TASTED AND TEMPTED

CHELLE BLISS     NINA LEVINE     RIVER SAVAGE     CARRIE ANN RYAN     SKYE WARREN     GOLDEN CZERMAK     CATHERINE GAYLE     TIA LOUISE     JENIKA SNOW     EDEN BUTLER

CONTENTS

Inside this eBook

Better When It Hurts

Delicate Ink

His

Homeward Bound

Incandescent

Losing an Edge

The Prince & The Player

Thin Love

Throttle Me

Storm

INSIDE

Better When It Hurts by Skye Warren

Delicate Ink by Carrie Ann Ryan

His by Jenika Snow

Homeward Bound by Golden Czermak

Incandescent by River Savage

Losing an Edge by Catherine Gayle

The Prince & The Player by Tia Louise

Thin Love by Eden Butler

Throttle Me by Chelle Bliss

Storm by Nina Levine

PREFACE

A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE about pain that binds us together…

Five years ago we lived in the same house. He was the ultimate bad boy.

And my foster brother.

Now he's back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It's payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no.

THANK you for reading the first book in the Stripped series! You can join my Facebook group for fans to discuss the series here: Skye Warren’s Dark Room. And you can sign up for my newsletter to find out about new releases at skyewarren.com/newsletter.

Enjoy the story…

There are all kinds of love in this world

but never the same love twice.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

CHAPTER ONE

I TRY NOT to scan the floor when I enter. There’s already a buzz in the air, the hunger and desperation of a strip club on Saturday night. I’m ready to earn money, ready to move my body.

Ready to pretend Blue doesn’t bother me.

He’s nowhere in sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief. A group of men are still gathered near the railing. They’d tipped me pretty well while I was up there, so I figure I have a good shot at a lap dance. I saunter over, my breasts barely contained in the red bikini top, my skin coated in sweat and glitter and the thick smoke of this place.

“Nice set,” says a low voice from behind me.

I turn to see Blue standing there, arms crossed so his muscles bulge, lids lowered in that intense way of his. Shit. “Thanks,” I say, but the only thing I’m really thankful for is that my voice doesn’t shake.

He’s the head of security at the Grand, which should make me feel safe. Except we have a history. And he hates my guts. So there’s no affection in his eyes when they scan me up and down. No kindness in his voice when he adds, “You look great.”

The way he says it, it sounds like a threat. He makes me feel like the scared little girl I used to be when I knew him before. And him? He’s like the big bad wolf, sizing me up before he swallows me whole.

I force myself to shrug at him, to toss my hair. “Thanks, sweetie.”

He circles me, surrounding me. “But then, you always look great. That’s what you like, isn’t it? Having men panting after you? Leading us along by our dicks?”

My throat gets tight. I know that’s what people think of me. They take one look at my lipstick and my short skirt and assume the worst. God, they’re right. But it’s worse to hear it from him. Worse because he once believed in me. “Do you expect me to apologize for earning a living?”

His lids lower. “Not for that.”

I can’t meet his eyes. I know exactly what he wants me to apologize for. And he’ll never believe me. Even showing weakness in this game is enough to get me killed. “I don’t apologize to anyone.”

“Of course you don’t,” he says, his voice full of loathing. “But I don’t want your words.”

I can’t help but whisper, “What do you want?”

That makes him smile. It’s not a nice smile. “I think you know the answer to that.”

He wants to hurt me, to use me. He wants to fuck me. I swallow hard. “That isn’t for sale.”

“I wasn’t planning to pay you.”

This should be easy. Tell him no. Make him believe it. I’ve done this for a thousand men before. Somehow he’s different. Maybe because I don’t really believe it myself.

I know he’s watching me. I know he’s hatching his plans. My heart speeds up every time I turn away from him, wondering if this is the time he’ll pounce. One of these times, he’s going to dig into me with his teeth and his claws. He’s going to hurt me, and I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

Not tonight, though. Not now.

I take a step away from him. “If you aren’t going to pay for my time, I think I’ll find someone who will.”

His eyes darken. “Your call, gorgeous.”

I hear the unspoken message beneath his words, steel under velvet. For now.

FROM THE STAGE, the men seem small. It’s a form of power, dancing above them, light where they are dark, being thrown money just to show myself. I know that what I do is sordid and degrading. I feel sordid most of the time. I feel degraded. It’s just a natural state for me, as easy as breathing.

But there are a few seconds when the entire room is looking at me, panting over me, desiring me—and I feel like a goddess. Those seconds make what’s about to happen bearable.

Then I’m on the ground again, mortal and low.

The men turn as I approach, already catcalling the way they did when I was onstage.

“Hey, there’s our sexy girl, come to give us a kiss.”

“What a hot bitch. Look at those tits bounce.”

“How much for a night, baby?”

There’s no power left in me, no goddess in sight. The men loom over me now, crowding me as I stand between them. I cock my hip and thrust my breasts in front of me, the picture of female sexuality. I am a lamb in a pack of lions. I wear my confidence like a mask. It’s the only way I’ve survived. But their smiles, cocky and sure, say they can smell the real me underneath. They can smell their prey.

Two of them step aside for another man, one with a sloppy drunk smile and a cruel glint in his eyes. I hear one of them call him Travis.

My throat squeezes tight. No, no. My gut is too good at picking out the genuinely violent guys from the generic asshole. Except I’m not paid to say no.

“Let’s get a private room,” Travis says, the slur scraping down my spine. “Do I get a discount? It’s my party. I’m getting married tomorrow.”

It’ll be a miracle if he’s even conscious tomorrow, but that’s not my problem. My problem right now is with a mean drunk who wants to buy my time. I have a lot of experience with mean drunks. I know that no amount of pleading or negotiating or fighting back will work.

But all that knowledge, all that experience doesn’t stop me from trying.

“I’ll give you a dance right here,” I say, drawing myself up close to him. Even if I could turn away a customer, I can’t lose out on the money he can give me. I’m already a few hundred bucks in the hole when I start the night, after my house fee and tip outs. And I know exactly how much I need to make, especially on a Saturday night, to pay the bills. And there are a lot of bills.

He grabs my ass and squeezes hard, pulling me flush to a small, hard erection. “Your ears broken or something? I said let’s get a fucking VIP room.”

Panic beats in my chest, and it’s familiar, almost soothing. If I’m not half-terrified, I don’t even know what to feel. My gaze scan the room, searching—always searching. What am I looking for? And then I meet Blue’s eyes. His eyes narrow. He must have been watching me.

I could call him over. I could get him to help me, tell him this guy is being rough.

Except that would be a lie. Technically all he’s done is put his hands on me, and I haven’t even told him to stop yet. I’d give a courtesy warning—or two or three—before getting security involved. So I make myself smile, both for Blue’s benefit and the man right in front of me.

“Mmm, whatever you say. I’m going to show you a great time wherever you are.”

“That’s right,” he says. “You’re damn right about that for what this shit is gonna cost me.”

Not going to be a great tipper, obviously. But then I could have already guessed that. At least security will make sure he pays me the hourly rate. As long as I come out with my fake smile in place and not too many bruises, I’ll consider it a win.

His buddies clap him on the back with send-offs like “cop a feel for me” and “this is your last night of freedom, don’t waste it.”

Charming.

The Grand used to be a nice theater before the city’s economy tanked and they ripped out the seats. Now there’s just a stage for us to dance on and gilded balconies that are kept dark. The VIP rooms are the old ticket booths with the front walls ripped off, replaced only by musky velvet curtains that don’t cover the small space.

We stumble our way across the floor toward the VIP rooms in the corner. He can’t walk straight, and apparently I’m his crutch. I pretend not to notice Blue’s gaze following us as we go.

CHAPTER TWO

A LAP DANCE may seem like a broad, blunt stroke—twisting my body right in his face, shaking my ass against his erection, almost dry humping when the rhythm is right. But really it’s a fine line. I want them worked up enough that they’ll pay for more time, but not so intense that they demand things I can’t give them.

I don’t fuck for money.

It’s not a question of right or wrong, of being a whore or a goddamn angel. I’ve known exactly what I was since I turned fourteen, and that’s not going to change because he puts the tip inside or not. I don’t fuck because it’s not safe, for a lot of reasons. I don’t fuck because I don’t have to. I make enough money through stripping to cover Mrs. Owens’s bills—even the medical ones.

I start the dance off slow with the soon-to-be groom. I sit him down in the creaky wooden chair and step back as far as the hollow gray walls will let me. He’s already more tripped out than I can handle, so I spend a lot of time against the wall, posing and touching myself and hoping that’ll be enough.

“Stop wasting time,” he says.

In the end I’ll have to grind up against him. That’s the promise our bodies make when we shake our asses on the stage. That’s all we are in this building, a warm body to rub against. But I just give him my practiced sultry smile and continue to dance.

There’s a tight feeling in my gut. Every time I’ve felt it, I end up getting hurt. It’s a little like falling, though. Knowing doesn’t help you stop. There’s no way I can avoid getting close to him. I’m already close to him. There’s no way I can avoid shoving my ass against his dick, dry humping him for a handful of bills.

That’s when he grabs my wrist. I freeze.

“No touching,” I say, my voice low in case one of the bouncers is walking by. They keep a pretty tight watch on the VIP rooms. That’s what I like about this club—at least, I did before Blue became head of security here.

It doesn’t matter that I tried to keep it down, because his voice booms in the small space. “What the fuck do you mean, no touching? What’s the fucking room for if not touching?”

It’s true I’m more likely to let a little groping slide when we’re in private. Especially if I know the tip is going to be nice. But I don’t let anyone grab me. I don’t let anyone hold me down. I’m not a scared foster kid with nowhere to go.

“No touching,” I say again. “Or you can take it up with one of the bouncers.”

Of course that only makes him hold me tighter. He yanks me off balance, and on these heels, I don’t stand a chance. I fall right into his lap, into his arms, in a sick parody of a romantic embrace.

Then his hands are on my breasts, squeezing, twisting, pinching.

I gasp in shock—and then pain. Other than that, I don’t make a sound. My brain is shutting down on me. My body too. I know he’s touching me, hurting me, pinning me in place.

But I also know how to block it out. My body does that automatically now, almost against my will. I could shout and scream. I could fight. But when has that ever helped me?

Not ever.

Some part of me is made of steel—a small, dark part. I’m a metal pipe covered in blood at my core. My arms are pinned, but I can still reach down. I reach for his lap, and it makes me laugh, almost, the way he moans when I touch him. As if he thinks this will get better for him. As if he thinks I will give in. I grip his dick through the cloth of his pants and then squeeze as hard as I can.

He yelps and jumps up, knocking me to the floor. I land hard on my ass, my head knocking against the wall. The chair hits the other wall with a thud.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarls. He’s coming at me.

With one hand on my throat he drags me up the wall.

That’s how Blue finds us. The look on his face is pure rage.

He slams Travis back, pushing his elbow against the man’s windpipe. There’s hardly room for two people in these tiny rooms—and not three. Definitely not three when one of them is bellowing breaths like a bull, when his muscles are bulging and he looks like he’s about to charge.

Without a hand on my throat, I slide to the ground, sitting my bare ass flush against the cold concrete floor. I’m trembling. How am I trembling? I have enough experience for this not to affect me.

There will never be enough experience.

This is my life, but I’m still not used to it. I’m still afraid.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Blue says, his voice deadly even, belying the wild look in his eyes. “If it were up to me, you’d leave this club crawling on your fucking hands because I’d have taken a bat to your knees. Understand?”

He waits until the guy gives a quick, wide-eyed nod. The sound of his choked gasps fill the space.

“Instead I’m going to let you walk out of here. Your ass. On the street. Got it?”

There is a pause where I imagined the guy arguing with him. No way. It’s not fair. It’s my fucking party. I’ve heard every one of those excuses. I know Blue has too. Maybe that’s why he seems to lean in, pressing his forearm harder on the guy’s throat until he chokes and sputters and nods his head.

“Good.” Blue steps back, and the guy slumps against the wall. “Now get out your fucking wallet.”

Now the guy does argue, his voice thin and wheezy. “I’m not paying her. She didn’t finish the fucking dance."

“You should’ve thought of that before you put her in a choke hold. Now pay up.”

The guy must realize he’s lost, especially when Blue looms in the opening, the only way out. A handful of bills are tossed around me like confetti. I watch one land on my knees with a sense of unreality. It’s all so strange—being hurt, being used. And Blue coming to save me. So strange and yet familiar too.

Blue drags the guy outside and disappears for long minutes. Only when Candy appears to help me up do I realize he’s not coming back.

CANDY LEADS me through the floor, ignoring the curious stares of the customers.

She’s one of my fellow strippers at the Grand—and my only friend. When we started here, we were both young and hustled hard. On top of the fucking world. Just a few years can change all that. Maybe I was still young in years, but it felt like I’d been dancing and fucking and fighting off men all my life. And really, I had been.

She knows almost everything about my past, more than I know about hers. So she wasn’t surprised to find me practically catatonic on the floor of a VIP room. It didn’t used to bother me—when men grabbed my wrist, when they forced me. They’d have to really hurt me to get a rise. But lately I’ve been getting more sensitive. In this profession, that could be dangerous.

Because the Grand had once been a fancy theater, there’s an enclave with a musty sofa between the dressing room and the showers. Candy settles me there and covers me with some kind of blanket. I don’t even know where she got a blanket—maybe it’s a cape from someone’s outfit.

She leaves my side for a minute, and in her absence, I hear the chatter from the girls.

What’s wrong with her?

She think she’s too good to work?

Someone fucked her up.

They know better than to talk about us where Candy can hear. She’s the queen bee, and I wouldn’t exactly call her a benevolent ruler. But I can’t blame them for wondering. Yeah, someone fucked me up. It shouldn’t matter if a customer touches me. If they rough me up. I should be able to shake it off, but I can’t. So I guess I do think I’m too good to work. At the very least, I’m too broken.

And as for what’s wrong with me? That list is too fucking long.

Candy returns with a glass of something that’s definitely not water. “Drink,” she says, pushing it into my hands.

It burns on the way down. “Shit. What is this?”

Then she puts something else in my hand—a small white pill. “Swallow.”

“I charge extra for that.”

She gives me a faint smile. “Come on. You’ll feel better.”

“That’s what they all say,” I grumble. But I take the pill, swallowing it down with whatever liquid’s in the cup. I don’t know what either of them are, and it doesn’t really matter. Candy always has the good shit. That’s what I need right now—good shit to make me feel human again. To make me forget.

I feel the warmth spread through me almost immediately. It’s like she’s taking care of me, giving me milk and cookies in the form of alcohol and drugs.

The girls in the dressing room are quiet again, only murmuring to each other or back out on the floor. After all, we’re here to work. And even if they wanted to gossip, Candy remains by my side.

“You can go,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “For what? The crowd’s too fucked-up tonight. It’s not worth it.”

That’s a lie. It’s always worth the money to work a crowd that’s hot. Even if it’s a little dangerous. Fuck, this job is always dangerous. That’s why we show up night after night, because it’s worth it.

She’s staying for me, because she knows I don’t want to be alone right now. How does she know that? Why does she care? Even though I know we’re friends, it’s hard to trust that. It’s hard to believe in it.

“How’d you know to come find me there?”

I can’t read the look she gives me. “Blue.”

“Oh.” I shiver. “He handled the guy who messed with me. Can you give him a tip out from my stash?”

Tip outs are money paid to the bouncers and other staff members for helping us. Like if the DJ cuts you out of the lineup so you could work the floor longer or if a waitress brings extra drinks around to get a client spending. The client wouldn’t exactly tip the staff extra for their service—they especially wouldn’t tip a bouncer for throwing them out. So the girls say thank you with cold hard cash.

Curiosity fills Candy’s blue eyes. “You can’t do it yourself when you see him?”

“I don’t want to see him tonight.” Or ever, but that’s hoping for too much.

Hoping for anything is too damn much.

“Then don’t. Blue isn’t going to stop doing his fucking job because you didn’t pass him a twenty.” Her smile is sly. “In fact I don’t think he’s going to stop watching over you like a hawk no matter what you do.”

I shiver. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The Grand doesn’t have mandatory tip outs per night. It’s optional. The owner, Ivan, is a scary fucking dude—but he’s fair. For that reason and many others I won’t strip at another club. Even so, we still sometimes tip the staff for going above and beyond, and I definitely want to pay Blue for what he did.

I don’t need to owe him anything more.

She shrugs, one slender shoulder rising and moving the pale pink silk ruffles of her bikini top. “Why are you so sure he hates you? From where I sit, it looks like he wants to fuck you.”

“What’s the difference?” Hating. Fucking. They’re the same thing. I swallow hard, forcing down my fear. And my desire. There isn’t much difference between those two either. “We have history.”

“Oh no, honey. You can’t tell me that and then just stop.”

I sigh. “It’s not a pretty story.”

“Those are the best kind.” She pats my feet, and I scoot them out of her way so she can curl onto the couch next to me. It feels good, having her close, feeling her body heat. Comforting.

I was never the girl with a bunch of friends in school. I got moved around too much for that, foster home to foster home, wearing clothes that didn’t match and didn’t fit. I learned early on that if a boy liked me—if the toughest, meanest boy in the school liked me—then no one else could touch me.

So I learned to make that boy like me however I could. Until Blue.

“He was in one of my homes. My foster homes.”

Candy says nothing, just strokes my ankle lightly, her gaze on the empty dressing room we can see from the sofa. Maybe she knows it’s easier to talk if she isn’t looking at me. I wonder what secrets she’d have to tell if I stopped looking at her.

My throat gets tight as I think about those first days when Blue showed up. I’d been scared of him. Turned on by him. Confused by him. And by the end, he’d made me the happiest I’d ever felt then or since.

“I got him in trouble,” I whisper.

“What, like you told on him?” Candy’s words are challenging, almost mocking, but her voice is soft—like she knows. She knows that whatever happened between us, it was more than pulling pranks and sibling rivalry. “Was he doing something bad and you told someone?”

“No, just the opposite,” I say, my voice thick. “He didn’t do anything wrong. But I said he did. That’s why he hates me. Because of me, because I lied, he got sent away. And one of these days, he’s going to pay me back.”

CHAPTER THREE

I GUESS it’s an acquired taste because by the second glass of this stuff, I’m feeling really good. I’m almost floating; that’s how good it feels. Though maybe that’s because of whatever pill Candy gave me.

That stuff should just be…breakfast. I should have it every morning and go through the rest of my day like this, seeing beautiful things everywhere. Even the crack in the wallpaper in front of me looks beautiful. The corner of this sofa cushion with stuffing poking out looks beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell Candy.

She giggles. “And you’re drunk.”

That is probably true, but her laugh sounded very drunk too. I think we might both be drunk, and that seems like the greatest thing ever. Every day men are coming in here getting wasted while we work our asses off. Now it’s our turn to get drunk.

I sigh with total relaxation. “I never want this night to end.”

“We should just not end it,” she says seriously.

“God, that’s a good idea.” It’s actually the best idea I’ve ever heard. I never want to leave this couch, never want to stop floating, never want to crash. “Let’s just stay here.”

“It’ll be like a sleepover, except without the sleeping.”

I raise my glass, which is now sadly empty. “And with alcohol.”

She tilts her head. “Did your sleepovers not have alcohol?”

“I never had a sleepover,” I confess. “I also never had friends. Or, you know, a house where they could sleep at.” Not unless I wanted them getting pawed by whatever foster father or brother happened to live there. Which I did not.

“That’s sad,” she says, sounding like she’s about to cry.

Suddenly I feel like I’m about to cry. And then I am crying, tears wet and thick down my cheeks. God. I’m so drunk. “No, really,” I say, sniffling. “What the hell did we just drink?”

She just smiles with her eyes closed, head leaned back on the sofa like she’s sunning on the goddamn beach. “Happiness.”

Silence fills the small lounge for a brief moment before we both bust out laughing. I don’t even know what’s funny, except that it is. The dressing room is quiet and dark. All the girls have packed their shit and left. It must be late. Or early.

I squint toward the doorway as if I’ll somehow be able to see outside that way.

And then I can’t see anything. There’s just a broad chest filling the opening. A chest I did not want to see tonight.

Even if it is a very nice chest. Beautiful, even.

I want to cry again.

“Ivan wants to see you,” he says.

Candy stiffens beside me. We both know he’s talking to her. Ivan is the only person, man or woman, who intimidates her. And I think he might enjoy doing it.

She pouts. “We’re having a sleepover.”

Blue’s lips twitch. “Is that what I should tell him?”

“Of course not. That would only make him jealous.” She stands and crosses toward the door—somehow steady even though I can’t sit upright. Blue steps aside, and she turns back to wink at me. “Don’t wait up.”

My cheeks heat as Blue studies me. Could she have been any more obvious? I don’t want to give him any ideas. Not that I think he’s struggling for them. No, I can feel him thinking, calculating, weighing what I’ve done every time he sees me.

I don’t even see him cross the room. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of me, his eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”

“God,” I say. “No.”

I’m not sure why I say that when I must smell like I bathed in whiskey. And he doesn’t exactly believe it. If anything his expression becomes more severe. “Are you high?”

“Nooo,” I say, drawing out the word as if that will convince him. Or at least make him stop looking at me. Because it’s uncomfortable in a twisty, hot, itchy way. “I would never do that.”

“Liar.” His voice is mild, but I know he’s not just talking about right now.

“I don’t owe you anything,” I shout. Then I cringe, like he might slap me. Tears sting my eyes. I need to get control of myself, but whatever was in that bottle and that pill, whatever happiness means, I can’t seem to think straight.

“Christ,” he mutters.

“Don’t hurt me.” My voice is small and weak, and I really wish I’d stop saying everything I feel.

He just studies me, judges me. Another man might reassure me. I’m not going to hurt you. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t lie. We both know he’s going to hurt me, even if he hasn’t yet.

And if I’m really honest, he already has.

“Let’s get you home,” he says instead.

“I don’t need your help.” But when I try to stand and tumble into his arms, I prove myself a liar. He’s strong and firm and warm. Like a bear. I think he’s like a big beautiful bear. And even in my drunken state, even now I know you’re never supposed to run from a bear.

“You can barely stand up, much less walk.” He sounds disgusted. “I can’t believe she got you high knowing you’d have to walk through one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city.”

“We were having a sleepover,” I sniff.

He doesn’t respond to that. Instead he leans me against a wall and finds some clothes in my bag. He holds them out to me. “Get dressed.”

I don’t take them. Clothes seem so complicated. I mean, I’m a stripper. What’s even the point? Taking them off, putting them on. “Why?”

“Because if you go out into the street like that, you’ll start a fucking riot. Now get dressed.”

He shoves the clothes at me, and I catch the shirt while the sweatpants fall at my feet. It’s not that I want to philosophize about clothes right now. It’s just that all the holes and directions seem like a puzzle. And I can’t really bring myself to care. Or stand up straight.

“Christ,” Blue says again, but with more anger. I like that because it seems more honest.

And beautiful. He’s so beautiful when he’s angry.

He takes the shirt back and helps me put it on. Then he puts my legs into the pants and pulls them up.

It takes me a few moments to process that. He just dressed me like a doll. And now he’s talking to me, saying something like, can you walk?

“Duh. Can you walk?”

He shakes his head, but I don’t think he’s saying no. I think he’s frustrated with me. “God, Hannah.”

I flinch, because that’s not my name anymore. I’m Lola now, fierce and sexy. On top of the fucking world, that’s me. Hannah is my old name, the old me. The one who gets pushed around. The one who gets touched.

Like I got pushed around today. Like I got touched.

“I want to go home,” I whisper.

“I’ll take you there.”

He doesn’t know that I don’t really have a home. Not one that’s mine. Nothing much has changed after all. Lola’s just a name. She’s not a real person. In the end I’m still dumb little Hannah, with nowhere to go and no one to care.

Except Blue.

CHAPTER FOUR

“DID you see the new boy?”

I don’t look up from applying lipstick at the mirror. It’s not my lipstick. I swiped it from one of the older girls before she ran away. It’s also not my mirror. Nothing here is mine except the vacant eyes staring back at me. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

Lucy smirks. “They say he’s dangerous.”

I have a lot of experience with dangerous boys. “I’m not afraid.”

“You will be.” She lowers her voice. “They say he killed another kid at his last home.”

My eyes widen. Okay, that’s new. I’ve been in the system a long time. I’ve been in homes with a lot of strung out, violent kids. But I’ve never met a murderer. “What for?”

A shrug. “Dunno.”

It’s enough of a mystery to propel me to the window. I look downstairs where a maroon town car sits in the driveway. Mrs. Moreno is my caseworker too. She stands with a clipboard, her gray hair frizzy in the summer heat. A boy lounges against the hood of the car, his body relaxed, his expression bored. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and black boots.

Was he wearing the same thing when he killed a boy?

All I can think about is if the blood spattered on his white T-shirt.

HE DOESN’T WALK me home. I guess that would be too sweet, some twisted version of wholesome. We could have held hands as if we were coming back from a date instead of leaving a strip club. I would have pretended the Grand was still a theater and that my whole life was just a show, something I could leave behind at the end of the night.

That was just a fantasy. In reality he led me to his beat-up truck and pushed me inside.

“Which way?” he asked as he turned out of the parking lot.

“Toward the freeway.”

A mechanical click from the door makes me jump. The locks. Right.

The Grand isn’t that safe, but near the freeway, where I live, is closer to a war zone. I don’t have much of a choice. It isn’t even my house. Stripping pays for the electric bill and keeps the fridge stocked, but I can’t move. Not yet.

He drives with a cool efficiency I envy. I’ve never driven a car. I don’t even have a license. Driving lessons aren’t exactly a priority when you’re living on the streets. But Blue knew how to drive when I first met him. He’d told me about the way he used to race the cars owned by his previous foster dad before he got kicked out.

There’s a new alertness to him now, a competency born of experience. He’s been to the military, driven through a real war zone, and I imagine he looked just like he does now, focused and calm.

“Why’d you come back to Tanglewood?” I ask softly. The alcohol has worn off, along with the laughing, blustery high I’d been on. Now I’m just thoughtful and curious—and uninhibited enough to act on it.

“Where else would I go?” His voice is bland, as if he doesn’t care where he ends up.

“And the Grand? Why work there?” I don’t know why I’m pushing him. It’s like pressing on a bruise. I know it’s going to hurt, but I can’t help myself. As sick as it is, I crave the pain.

And at least if he tells me why he’s here, at least if he pushes back and holds me down—that will be honest. It’s worth a lot to me, honesty. After a life of lies, it’s worth everything.

He grunts, and I think that’s all I’ll get, a caveman answer. A refusal. After a beat, he adds, “The pay is good.”

That makes me smile. “Yeah, it fucking is.”

His glance is dark, expression intent. “So that’s why you do it?”

My defenses go up fast and hard. “Do what? Fuck men for money?”

“You don’t fuck them.”

I hate how sure he sounds. I hate how right he is. “How would you fucking know what happens in the VIP rooms?”

“Because I watch you.”

I cross my arms to hide my shiver. We go under the big freeway bridge, the wide shadows smoothing over us like we’re underwater. “Take a right at the next light.”

He nods and keeps driving. I watch his profile in the moonlight, how hard it is, how fierce. I imagine him on a mission like that, heading off to kill someone. I wonder if he’s killed a person. No, I know he has. I just wonder how many. Maybe he’s on a mission right now. Maybe he’s planning on taking me down. Not by killing me. That would be too easy. He’s going to make me suffer.

Candy thinks I’m wrong. She thinks I’m overstating how much he hates me, that he doesn’t want to hurt me at all. Some days I want to believe her. He just wants to fuck you, she says, and some days—God, some days—I think I wouldn’t mind that at all.

But then I see those big hands grip the steering wheel, relaxed and powerful. I see his forearms flex. I see the memories in his eyes when he looks at me. And I think he can’t possibly forgive me. Not when I can’t forgive myself.

I point in silence at the remaining turns, one after another, rats in a maze.

He pulls into the driveway, so cracked down the middle we dip and roll in the seat. Before I can get out or even reach for the door, he has the engine turned off. Then he’s stepping out of the truck.

“No,” I say. “You don’t have to…”

It doesn’t matter. He can’t even hear me until he opens the door beside me. By then I’m too shocked to speak. No one has ever opened the door for me. It feels like some kind of extravagant gesture, one that can’t possibly be real. And definitely not sincere. It’s like he’s mocking me with it, making me see how it would be if we were actually dating, if he actually liked me, if I actually deserved for him to.

I step out of the truck quickly, stumbling in hurry and shame, still drunk but mostly sad.

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I just walk quickly to the door. His footsteps follow me. His heat follows me. Even his musky scent follows me, and I duck my head as if that will help me escape him. The door is blocking my path. To get through I’ll have to dig through my purse and find the key.

I’ll have to face him.

When I do, he’s standing two feet away. He has his hands in his pockets. It makes him seem strangely vulnerable. At the same time it makes his arm muscles thicken, and I can’t help but be aware of his strength, the inherent threat of his body.

“Good night,” I whisper, because I want him to leave.

“Hannah,” he says, his voice so low I barely hear it.

“My name is Lola.”

He sighs and steps closer. “Hannah, you and me, we have unfinished business.”

My throat tightens. I’m not ready for this. I’ll never be ready. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe so. But I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten how we were together. Or what you did. Have you?”

There’s a stampede in my heart, thundering loud enough and hard enough I think I might pass out. God, I want to disappear. I want to melt onto the warm night’s pavement. “Blue, I—”

The door opens behind me, and I gasp. I don’t like things sneaking up on me. Nona is standing in the doorway, a confused look on her face. “Hannah? What’s going on out here?”

It scares me to think she doesn’t know, that Blue could be any strange man and she still would have opened the door. That’s probably true. I could be getting attacked in an alley and she’d come to my defense. She’d get herself killed to protect me, and in this neighborhood, that’s a reasonable outcome. But I can’t leave her here. She needs someone to make sure the stove is off and the doors are locked. She needs someone to pay the bills.

Blue is looking at her, speculating. He puts his hand out. “Blue Eastman.”

Nona studies him for a moment. She doesn’t get lucid very often—and it’s worse in the middle of the night like now. But the hand extended must trigger an automatic response. She shakes his hand with a pleased smile. “Nona Owens.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Owens.”

And then suddenly it does feel like that imaginary date, that twisted version of wholesome where he brings me home at the end of the night. And here he is meeting my parent. Except Nona isn’t my real parent. She was just my foster mom for a few months. The only one to give a damn.

And Blue definitely isn’t my date.

“Go inside, Nona,” I tell her softly. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”

Her expression is worried. “Will he come too?”

“No, of course not. I’ll lock the door when I come in.”

“And turn off the stove,” she says as if reciting a poem.

Alarm flares inside me. “Did you cook something today?”

“No,” she says, a little wistful. “But I wanted tea.”

“I’ll make you tea,” I promise her. “Go inside and wait in the living room.”

She complies, and I sigh in relief. Having her face-to-face with Blue makes me nervous. Not that I think he would hurt her just to get back at me. He’s too fucking honorable for that. No, I don’t want him seeing her because it reveals too much about me. This run-down house that still manages to be the nicest building in a two-block radius. What must he think of me?

Then I don’t have to wonder anymore; he’s going to tell me.

He takes a step forward. Then another.

He’s looming over me, this big, beautiful, terrifying man. He looks like an avenging angel, and I’m the devil who needs to be slayed.

I’m backed against the door that was just open. I close my eyes against the sight of him.

“Hannah,” he murmurs. “You’re so gorgeous.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment. Not when he says it. Not when any of the men at the club say it. That’s because it’s not really a compliment. I don’t want to be gorgeous or sexy. I want to be loved.

“Why are you helping me?” I whisper. “Why’d you defend me?”

Some part of me can’t help but wonder if Candy was right. Maybe he does just want to fuck me.

His job is head of security, but we both know he could’ve let it go a lot longer. He could have waited until I cried out for help. He could have kicked the guy out without putting him in a choke hold. His voice is quiet when he responds. “Like I said, we have unfinished business. You owe me something.”

No, I’d been right all along. He wants to hurt me. He wants to fuck me. I’m sure he’ll end up doing both. My throat is dry. “Your pound of flesh?”

He curves his hand around my jaw, cradling me. Threatening me. Promising. “I’ve earned that much, don’t you think?”

A tear snakes down my cheek. “Yes,” I whisper.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.” He leans close, his breath warm against my neck. “I wasn’t going to let him slap you around, Lola. The only person who’s going to mark this pretty skin is me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

I WAKE up with a pounding headache. The sun is too bright against my eyelids, and I turn my face into the pillow. What the hell happened last night? I feel like I got wasted, but I barely even drink, much less get drunk.

As I lay there, breathing in against my lumpy pillow and worn sheets, I start to remember. The night comes back to me in hazy underwater scenes—getting pushed around in the VIP room, being rescued by Blue. And then lying on the couch while Candy hands me a pill.

That explains a few things.

My memory is fuzzier after that. Did we hang out at the club until closing? How did I get home? I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing. Especially if Blue was there. I didn’t even want to think of how I looked when he walked in on me in the VIP room, clothes twisted, body held down. No hint of the confident vixen persona I used onstage.

“Don’t think about that,” I mutter.

I keep my eyes closed as I sit up, partly from lingering embarrassment and partly because I’m worried I might throw up. I make my way to the bathroom by feeling along the wall. The room is small and familiar. I’ve only lived here a few years, but it’s the longest I’ve lived anywhere.

I leave the door open and shower in the dark, with only the faint light from the room itself to light the way. After standing under hot spray for ten minutes, I feel almost human again.

By the time I leave the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body, I’m fully awake. There’s still a lingering headache, but I’m guessing that will stick with me all day.

At least I don’t have to work tonight.

I freeze at the sight of something small and square and black on my bed. I don’t recognize it, but it was clearly in bed with me while I was sleeping. I inch closer, my heart in my throat because I can already tell what it is.

A wallet.

I just don’t know who it belongs to. Or where I stole it. Or how. But why…oh, I know why I stole it. Because I’m a thief. Some of my earliest memories are of hiding in the closet holding a tube of my mom’s lipstick while she tore the place apart looking for me.

Who was I kidding? She was looking for the lipstick, not me.

The habit had continued even when she’d died. Stealing shit from other kids was a great way to get beat up in a group home, and it was only by latching myself on to the biggest, baddest boy I could find—by giving him my body so I’d have his protection—that I survived. I don’t even mean to steal. In fact, I despise doing it. But I don’t always realize it until after the fact, when I’m left all alone, holding something that doesn’t belong to me.

I clutch the towel like it’s a goddamn lifeline and stare at the wallet. I wish I could throw it under the bed and pretend I’d never seen it. Instead I force myself to sit though I’m still two feet away from the small square of soft-looking leather. It’s so intimate, a wallet. Money, identity. So intimate that people wear it on their body. And that’s what I stole.

My stomach lurches, and this time I can’t hold it in. I run for the bathroom again and barely manage to grasp the edge of the bowl before hurling inside. The towel falls down around my knees, and I’m naked, chest heaving, stomach clenching, staring into a swirl of stale liquor and my own acid.

My legs are shaky as I stand up and brush my teeth. It’s not a great start to my day—and it’s only going to get worse. Because I’ll have to find whoever that wallet belongs to and return it. There was a time I wouldn’t have done that. I would have actually used the cash and then tossed it. Or later, when I started to hate what I’d done, I would drop them in the same place I’d stolen them, hoping some good Samaritan would call the person up to come get it.

God, it had been so long since I’d stolen anything. Six months. I’d hoped it was over.

I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I approached the wallet like it was a snake—and it was, coiled to attack, teeth filled with venom. I knew exactly what had driven me to steal last night. I’d been so freaked out by that customer. And then Blue…

He’s wearing me down without even touching me. Without even hurting me.

Just knowing he’s there, biding his time, makes me clench.

I slide my forefinger into the fold and flip the wallet open. And there, staring up at me, is Blue. My heart pounds. He isn’t smiling. It looked more like a military ID than a driver’s license—he was intense, intimidating. Threatening.

Without meaning to, I take a step back. Away from the thing I stole. Away from him.

This is so much worse than I’d expected. If it had been some random guy on the street, I’d have to worry about how to find him. If it had been a customer at the club, I’d have to worry about whether Ivan would find out. But Blue? He was the worst of all. I knew exactly where to find him, and I suspected he wouldn’t tell Ivan.

No, he wouldn’t want Ivan to know. Blue would rather punish me personally.

I’m already in enough trouble. Really I shouldn’t make this worse. But curiosity drags me back to the bed, back to the clues about a man I’d once loved, about a boy all grown up.

He has a couple hundred in cash. I never see him spend money at the club, not on drinks or on girls. Even though the bouncers are pretty good guys, they’ll take an opportunity for some fun when it happens. Not Blue.

I wonder what he does spend his money on.

My finger runs over the raised numbers on his credit card.

My phone rings, and I practically fall off the bed. My blood races. Christ, I have a guilty conscience. I shouldn’t be looking through this.

I find my phone on the bedside table, half expecting to see an unknown number on the caller ID. Half expecting that it will be Blue demanding his wallet back.

Instead Candy’s smile flashes on the screen.

Just her smile, because she took the picture on my phone and set it to show up when she called. All those pretty white teeth and everything else in darkness makes her look like the Cheshire cat, playful and smug.

“Hello?” I say, more breathless than I intended.

“Are you alive?” she asks.

“Barely. What was in that pill you gave me?”

“It’s better that you don’t know. I know you get weird about illegal shit.”

I groan. “You’re right, don’t tell me.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Wait.” I rub my forehead. “That’s all you called for?”

“Pretty much. If you ended up dead, Blue would never forgive me.”

It was like a fist around my throat, squeezing every time I heard his name. “Look, about him. Did something happen last night?”

She laughed, the sound both innocent and sexy. A neat trick, that. “You tell me. You’re the one who took him home.”

“What?” The question came out as a squeak. My gaze wildly takes in the tiny room, the shabby furniture, the tattered, somber vibe of the whole house. And I’d brought Blue for some kind of one-night stand? The idea makes me flush hot with humiliation—and something else too.

“I think he was just trying to make sure you didn’t fall into a ditch. He had some words to say about me giving you pills.” She snorted. “Corrupting you. As if you’re some innocent little girl.”

I close my eyes, but they’re hot with tears. I’m just glad she isn’t here to see me, glad she can’t see the drops on my cheeks. My voice is hollow. “Far from it.”

“I told him you could take care of yourself.”

My gaze lands on the wallet. Yeah, real good job I’m doing taking care of myself. “I need to find him.”

“Blue? That good, huh?”

“Not like that. It’s because…I just need to see him, okay? Do you have any idea where he lives?”

“No…” She draws the word out in a singsong way. “But I do know where he’ll be tonight.”

“The club?”

“Of course not, silly. But I’ll take you to him.”

I want to demand she tells me where he’ll be, to find out what she knows, but I already know she’ll hold that secret like a goddamn lollipop—licking away at it all day long, dragging this out with perverse pleasure. But I don’t want to wait to give him the wallet longer than I have to. And neither do I want to risk handing it in at the club and Ivan finding out. If he got suspicious of me stealing from the customers, I’d be out on my ass.

“Fine,” I say, my head falling forward.

She’s silent a moment. “Lola, don’t you know why he’s not working tonight?”

“Time off for good behavior?”

“Oh, sweetie. You really don’t know. He’s not working tonight because you’re not. He’s only ever there when you are. The only reason he works at that club is to see you.”

I tighten my hands around the phone. My stomach twists, threatening to send me back to the bathroom. Because she’s wrong about one thing—I know he’s there for me. I’ve always known. That’s why I’m afraid.

FROM THE OUTSIDE it looks like a warehouse. No streetlamps are nearby. We glide through the night air like I imagine fish in dark water, unseeing, using our senses to feel for sharks. The only way I know it isn’t abandoned is the hum of noise. It’s too thick to separate into voices, too steady to be any kind of music. It’s the buzz of a hive—this one made of people.

There’s a single man standing outside a door at the side. Not much security for a place as big as this, even if they have more guys on the inside. But I don’t doubt he is holding down the door. His body looks as wide and as tall as the building itself, made of concrete and metal, his expression as cold.

“Can I help you ladies?” His tone makes it clear he’s saying the exact opposite—go the fuck away.

Candy smiles her megawatt smile that somehow lights up the space. Of course, it’s not hard to command attention in an empty freaking sidewalk. Clearly we are late, and I’m pretty sure Candy did that on purpose. She always likes to make an entrance.

“We heard there was a party,” she says. “I love parties.”

He looks bored, but I can tell he’s interested in her. All men are interested in her. “It’s a private party.”

She takes a step toward him. “That’s the best kind.”

There’s a pause where he could kick us to the curb. Something flickers in his eyes. Interest. Lust. A taste for danger. A man doesn’t get his nose bent like that because he likes to play it safe. No, this guy wants a piece of Candy in the back of a warehouse when he should be doing his job. It’s a rush, and he takes it.

“Don’t make trouble,” he tells me.

I don’t bother explaining that the girl voted most likely to cause trouble has her hands on his chest and her mouth on his neck. He wouldn’t have heard me anyway. He’s already dragging her into the shadows. Her giggle floats back to me, and I sigh, knowing I’ll owe her one.

And Candy doesn’t collect easy favors.

No one even looks my way as I open the door. They’re packed in like the club on a Saturday night, but it isn’t girls dancing onstage. No, those are men—big, brutish men with muscles bulging and skin glistening while they beat the shit out of each other.

Underground fighting.

No wonder the guy didn’t want to let us in. The fight itself is probably illegal, not to mention the betting and drug use that is no doubt rampant. I’m not judging. I have no right considering what goes on in the VIP rooms. And I wouldn’t want to judge anyway. I learned long ago that people needed to fight to survive. Sometimes they needed to fuck to survive too.

I’m just wondering why Blue would be here. And why Candy thinks he would be.

Is this some kind of hobby for him, watching fights the way he watches me dance? There’s a sea of people, of shouting faces, of angry faces, of drunk and grinning faces. They blend together in a macabre oil painting, my own vision gone skewed and sideways. I can’t possibly hope to find Blue in this mess.

Someone bumps into me, and just like that I’m falling into the crowd. I land on another person—he shoves me off, and I bounce around like a pinball until I manage to stand upright.

I’m pretty sure I got groped on the way, so it’s a typical night. Damn, I can’t see anyone. The smoke is thick, and there are barely any lights. Only spotlights focused on the fight, where a giant of a man is pummeling the other one…

I go very still and squint my eyes to focus. Is that…? No.

Another hit sends the fighter spinning toward the metal cage, and I gasp. It’s Blue in that goddamn death trap. What’s he doing in there? I can’t even believe that the guy is bigger than him. Blue towers over me and the other bouncers. And he has the muscles to match his height. He’s one scary son of a bitch, but the man he’s up against is like a mountain. A very angry mountain, and he’s raining down blows on Blue’s face.

Next thing I know I’m shoving my way through the crowd.

“Watch it!”

“Stupid bitch.”

All I know is I have to get to the front. There are still three rows of people blocking me, and now that I’m close, I can’t see the stage. Where are my stilettos when I need them? But I can hear the stage, the smack of flesh against flesh, bone against bone.

I shove people aside and end up at the makeshift railing. I’m not even sure this metal is supported by anything but the crowd itself—it sways with the movement, with the tides of the fight, leaning in as they smell blood.

Blue is wearing long shorts and scuffed-up tennis shoes. His gloves are worn and fraying at the edges. He looks like he rolled into his neighborhood gym to go a few rounds on the weekend. It’s amazing he’s held his own this long, but still, he’s going to get himself killed.

The other guy’s got glossy red-and-black shorts, almost like silk, and shoes so high and thick-toed they look like boots. It seems like that should be against the rules, but then a place like this probably isn’t huge on rules. From here I can see the guy’s face as he growls at Blue. I can see the smugness in his eyes, the deadness. He wants to make Blue hurt.

I reach for the metal fence. Hands grab me and yank me back. “What the fuck are you doing?” a voice shouts in my ear.

I tear myself free but stand behind the barrier. I don’t know what I’d planned to do anyway. It’s not like I can climb the cage and crawl inside. It’s not like I can stop the fight.

My stomach is a knot of worry, of dread. I may not be close to Blue anymore, I may even fear him, but I don’t want him killed. This kind of shit can escalate fast.

Blue ducks his head, almost resting his hand on one knee. He looks tired, worn down. He said he wasn’t going to let anyone kick him around ever again. Except that’s exactly what’s happening.

Oh God.

The opponent sees his chance. He charges like an actual bull, Blue’s weakness a red flag. Then even the man behind me can’t hold me back. I’m reaching for the cage, holding metal wire in my hands, shouting words even I can’t make out. No! Blue!

In the moments when Blue would be crushed, when he’d be killed, he suddenly spins and turns. A blow to the side sends red-and-black silk into the cage just a few feet away from where I’m clutching the side. The impact shoves me back. Hands catch me before I hit the concrete.

The crowd goes wild, their sound like a physical assault. It bears me down, and I can barely see, barely move. There’s just a glimpse of Blue’s hand being raised in the air, worn glove and all.

The man behind me pushes me into the crowd.

“Hey, what are you—” I look into the face of Oscar, another one of the bouncers at the Grand. Shit.

“Blue won’t be happy you’re here,” he says, too low for me to hear. I have to read his lips. It’s easy because I already know what he’ll say. Of course Blue won’t be happy to see me. He’s never been happy to see me since five years ago. That much will never change.

We’re almost to a door at the side—the dressing rooms?—when I tear myself away from Oscar and look back. Blue is still onstage, but he isn’t looking at the crowd. He’s looking at me, his body terrifyingly still. For once our roles are reversed. He’s the one in the spotlight, and I’m just a girl looking on.

I wonder if he feels powerful now. I wonder if he feels safe.

I wonder if this is why he stepped into that ring tonight—to kick other men around in a way that’s socially sanctioned and almost legal.

A girl in a bikini top and short shorts wraps herself around him, and just like that the spell is broken. Oscar drags me into a room that turns out to have lockers and benches. There’s a couple making out in an open shower stall, but Oscar bangs on the lockers with his fist and they make a run for it, half-dressed.

“Stay here,” Oscar says grimly.

Then I’m standing alone in a room, waiting for a man. Just like every night of my goddamn life.

CHAPTER SIX

THERE ARE NO OTHER EXITS.

I know because I check the entire locker room after Oscar leaves me here. I’m sure he’s standing guard at the only way out. There are three shower stalls with only bricks dividing them—no doors or curtains for privacy. The urinals are also out in the open, up against the wall. Lockers line the other two walls with benches made of scarred wood and dark metal.

The door slams open, and Blue strides into the room. A burst of sound follows him in the seconds before the door swings shut. I shrink back against the lockers before I can help it. That doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t even slow him down as he steps right into my space, just inches from my face, still breathing hard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His eyes are still wild from the fight, violence and victory mixed together.

I try not to flinch. “I wanted to…to talk to you about something.”

“How did you know I was fighting tonight?”

I’m not going to tell on Candy, even if he’ll figure it out as soon as he sees her here. Instead I bite my lip and try to remember the speech I was going to give him. “Congratulations?”

That wasn’t it.

He shakes his head. “No, Lola. This isn’t one of your little games. I’m not one of the men you can lead around by my dick. Not anymore.”

And then I do flinch, because the reminder of our past is too painful not to. “I’m not trying to lead you anywhere,” I whisper.

His lips curve into a cold smile. “No? You brought me here, didn’t you? Just you and me and the rest of the world locked out. You made that happen.”

Something pricks my eyes—tears. No no no. I can’t possibly cry in front of him. I don’t know why I’d cry at all. This is my life. I’m long past wishing for something different, aren’t I? I look down at the concrete floor so he won’t see me struggle.

Of course he doesn’t accept that. His fingers—sweaty and gloveless—lift my chin. “Why’d you come here, Lola?” His voice is suddenly lower and strangely seductive. Maybe that’s how fucked-up I’ve gotten, that cruelty turns me on. “What do you want?”

My fingers fumble as I pull the wallet from my back pocket. It’s still warm from my body as I hold it up. “This is yours. I stole it. I—I took it by accident.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all. I’d meant to explain the situation like it happened—that I’d woken up with the wallet in my bed. That I had no memory of it, but obviously there had been a mistake. I’d taken nothing from the wallet, no harm no foul.

Instead I’d stuttered like I was thirteen again, stealing everything I could slip into my pockets, confessing to my foster dad before he whipped me with his belt.

Blue takes the wallet from me, his expression speculative. It’s almost as if he’s never seen it before, even though I know it belongs to him. I rifled through his things, touched the stone-faced plastic image on his license. And he knows I invaded his privacy that way, just like I invaded his pocket when he brought me home.

He tosses the wallet onto a bench behind him, dismissing it. His hand lands on the locker beside me, blocking me in. His eyes meet mine. “You still steal.”

“No,” I say, but his wallet calls me a liar. Naturally he’d remember the worst thing about me. I’d helped him remember. “Not anymore. Not usually except…I must have been drunk or something.”

“You didn’t used to drink.”

“A lot’s changed.” I used to hate the taste of beer. It reminded me too much of foster brothers with groping hands and tongues. I still couldn’t touch the stuff, but every now and then I used alcohol to try and numb the pain. It was just a shame it never worked.

His gaze scans my body, unapologetic as it measures me, probes me, demands all my secrets. “I can see that.”

I shrug, pretending to be unaffected. No, I am unaffected, damn it. “You see more than this every night.”

“Less. When you’re naked up there onstage, that’s what you show to every man.” His eyes are hooded. “This is what you wore for me.”

My breath catches. I’d picked a white tank top and jeans because I’d had no idea where Candy was taking me. If I’d been to see any other man, needing a favor, apologizing, I’d have played up the sex-kitten act. I may have been the one on my knees, but he’d be the one begging. With Blue, I knew better than to try. There would be no power for me. Sex was just another tool he could use against me.

“Please don’t tell Ivan what happened, okay?”

One eyebrow rises. “Getting drunk?”

I snort. “As if he’d care about that, especially since Candy is the one who got me that way. He’d probably pay to watch.”

A smile curves those cruel, sinful lips. “Doesn’t he?”

Any amusement I’d felt fades away. “No. He doesn’t. No one gets to see me that way.”

I didn’t fuck around. Not for any amount of money.

Blue leans close, so close I can smell the sweat and heat of him, so near that his bulging shoulder blocks my view. His mouth is inches from my ear. “Not even if I tell Ivan you stole from me?”

I stiffen. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m just figuring out the boundaries here.” His other hand slides over my hip and cups my ass. I let out a gasp before catching myself. “I want to understand exactly what you’re offering.”

“I’m not offering a damn thing,” I snap.

His laugh is low and sexy and frustrating as hell. “I think that’s exactly what you’re doing with those tight jeans and your tits like fucking heaven. You think I don’t see it? You think I’m fooled?”

I want to insist he’s wrong about me. I want to tell him to go to hell. But I can’t because he’s right. Even if I hadn’t dressed up for him, I would have for some other man. I’m exactly the kind of girl he thinks I am. I’ve already sunk that low.

So I let myself sink against the cool metal lockers behind me. I press my heavenly tits up toward his face. He wants a taste of this? Fine. Then maybe he can feel better about the fact that I stole his wallet, even if I gave it all back. And maybe then he’ll feel better about what happened all those years ago.

Even if nothing can ever make that right.

He grunts in approval. “Gorgeous. They look gorgeous naked and gorgeous with clothes on. How fucking unfair is that? That someone like you could look like this?”

My heart stops for a beat at the insult, my heart like a raw wound. Then his hands are cupping my ass, lifting me up against the lockers. His mouth is open and hot against my skin, sucking on the tops of my breasts, making me squirm against him. I’m off balance, up high, and I grab on to him for support. He’s slippery with sweat but somehow solid too, his shoulders massive, his body warm and unmovable.

I know I should hate him, but I can’t. I loved him too much as a girl. And even though he’s colder now, bigger and meaner now, he’s still the same boy I loved.

He finds the hollow at my throat, and just like all those years ago, he flicks his tongue against it. I shudder and rock myself against him, shameless and hungry for him. Only he knows about that spot on me. Only he has ever bothered to find it.

His hands are rough on my thighs. “Gorgeous,” he mutters as if to himself.

He hates me.

No matter what I said, no matter how much time has passed, I’m still the same girl he once loved. I deserve every bit of hate he has for me, considering what I did to him. Deserve the red marks he leaves on my skin with his stubble and his teeth. Deserve the crude way he rocks against me, thrusting his covered cock against my belly, getting himself off like I’m a fucking doll.

It’s degrading and humiliating—and still a disappointment when he sets me down and steps away. With him I want to be degraded. I want to be humiliated. Just being with him is its own sweet agony, and that alone makes my cheeks flush with tormented want.

That shouldn’t have turned me on, that little punishment make-out session. He didn’t even kiss me on the mouth. But now it’s done—I’ve paid my dues. He isn’t going to tell Ivan about me.

My breath coming in pants, my tank top askew, I turn to leave.

A hand on my wrist stops me. “Not so fast,” he says.

Trembling, I look back at him. His eyes are dark and terrifying. “I didn’t mean to steal it.”

“I know,” he says simply, and I believe he does know.

“Then let me go.”

“I’m not keeping you for that, Lola.” He pulls, and I fall off balance, landing in his arms in an awkward, painful sprawl. His other hand fists in my hair, pulls back. I stare at the harsh overhead light while he murmurs in my ear. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than whatever’s in my wallet, and I think you know that. So don’t give me any trouble. Or you know what? Do. Go ahead and fight. It’ll just make me hotter.”

I REST my chin on his chest, fingers playing in his hair. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“What they say about you.” I don’t need to spell it out, but he’s making me. “That you killed a kid at your last school.”

His eyes are dark. “People talk too much.”

My heart lurches. “So it’s true.”

He shrugs, which shifts his large body underneath mine. He’s cradling me, one hand on my back, the other on my ass. We’re nestled in the attic, hidden away. I feel completely safe—the exact opposite of how I should with what he’s just admitted.

I’m scared too. I don’t know what he’s capable of or why. I don’t know what will set him off. For now he seems to like me. And for now, that’s enough.

“Is your name really Blue?”

He makes a face. ”Really?”

I like this lighter side of him, the one that isn’t so serious. The one who isn’t about death. The one who isn’t dangerous. “I just want to know something about you. Something real.”

“Then tell me something real about you, Hannah. That’s my price.”

“Okay.” I play with the bristles on his chin, distracting myself. “My mom killed herself.”

Surprise registers in his eyes. “That’s heavy.”

I look away. So much for keeping things light. “Yeah, well, it’s real. Now you tell me something.”

“Eugene,” he mutters.

My gaze snaps back to him. “What?”

“My name is Eugene Blue.”

I can’t help it—I laugh. It’s dangerous to laugh at a boy like this, one who’s killed, one who admits it without even looking guilty. But the corner of his lip turns up.

“Can I call you that?” I tease him.

He tries to look stern. “Not if you want me to answer.”

It’s a little piece of him, his name, something only for me. I nuzzle his chest, and he lifts my chin. His eyes are serious. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

I swallow hard. “Thanks.”

He leans forward, and his lips touch mine. He doesn’t move them or push his tongue inside. We stay like that, lips against lips, breath mingling.

When I pull back, he touches his forehead to mine.

“Why did you do it?” I whisper.

This time he doesn’t make me spell it out.

“Because he called me Eugene,” he says with a straight face.

It’s wrong, but I laugh. He is the only boy who makes me laugh. “For real though.”

His expression gets hard. “It’s real simple. The people outside—the judge and the jury. They don’t know what it’s like. It’s kill or be killed, and fuck if I’m going to let anyone touch me.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wish I had that kind of conviction.

I wish I had that kind of strength.

“Why aren’t you in jail?”

He shrugs. “I’m a minor and there were mitigating circumstances. That’s what they call it—mitigating circumstances.”

“Oh,” I say, not really understanding.

“They’d been kicking me around and it was documented by the caseworker. So it got labeled self-defense. I just have to keep my nose clean until I’m eighteen. Then I can get out of this shithole town. And I’m never coming back.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

HE’S STARING at me like he’s going to devour me when the knock comes. I jump at the sound, because it pounds through the wall to be heard over the steady din outside.

Blue mutters a curse and pushes away from me.

I immediately breathe in deep. Having him surround me, crowd me, had been stifling. Having him gone feels like a loss. Will I always feel this conflicted about him? Will I always want to push him away and then miss him when he’s gone?

Oscar says something to Blue that I can’t hear, but I get the message. People want to use the locker room, and it’s becoming a problem keeping them out.

I force myself to stand and straighten my clothes with as much dignity as I can find. Which isn’t much considering the red scrapes all over my breasts and probably my neck. My whole body feels stretched and twisted, set on fire and then left to burn.

It’s my Lola persona that smiles at Oscar over Blue’s shoulder and winks. “I was on my way out anyway. I think I got what I came for.”

Blue growls in his throat. “You’re not getting away that fucking easy.”

Oscar’s eyebrows rise. I know he hasn’t seen Blue talk to other girls like that. Blue wouldn’t tolerate a bouncer under his command treating one of us that way.

He makes an exception for me.

“Give me a couple more minutes,” Blue says.

Oscar looks doubtful. “Hey, man—”

Blue closes the door in his face. When he turns to me, his eyes have gone completely black. He’s like a panther as he prowls around me, pressing me back against the wall. “You think we’re done?”

“Yeah, I do.” It would have sounded better if my voice hadn’t been shaking.

“No, baby. Not even close. I didn’t get what I wanted all those years ago. Remember that? Remember waiting?”

Tears spring to my eyes, because I do remember waiting. I remember how respectful he was even while he was horny out of his mind. I remember how cherished he made me feel. Of course he didn’t know then that I’d already lost my virginity. That scared me more than anything back then. How was I going to explain to him that I’d already fucked a guy? How was I going to explain that I fucked any guy that I needed to, that would protect me, but that Blue was different?

It didn’t matter, because before we could have sex, he was already gone.

“I’m not that girl anymore.” My voice sounds rough, gritty. That’s how I feel inside—like dirt.

“No, you’re a woman now. But are you still a goddamn tease? Or are you going to give me what I’ve been waiting five fucking years for?”

Apprehension runs down my spine. “Is that why you came back? Is that why you’re working at the Grand, because I wouldn’t give it up to you all those years ago?”

He laughs softly. “Is your pussy that good?”

My pussy clenches like he invoked the goddamn devil just by saying her name. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is. I think you owe me a taste of that. I’ve been giving you time, letting you get used to the idea, but I’m done waiting. Especially when you came walking in here, in my place, when I’m already strung out and fucked-up and blue balled. It was either fight or fuck, and I’ve been fighting every Saturday night.” Those dark eyes meet mine. “Until now.”

“Blue,” I say, warning in my tone. Fear too.

“Next Saturday night, I’m not gonna be in the lineup. Instead I’m going to be at my place, trying out that pussy for the first time.”

I stare at him, somehow shocked. I hear men catcall me, hear them proposition me, hear them swear at me every night. No amount of dirty words can surprise me, but somehow hearing him promise to fuck me does just that.

“Say yes, baby.” His eyes are some kind of magic. I can’t look away. And I can’t say no.

Maybe this is what it will finally take to atone for what I did. Maybe this is some kind of perverted redemption for me, a way to make him whole. Or maybe I’m just making excuses, because I don’t know what else to do. Years ago I’d find the strongest boy in school and let him fuck me for protection. Now the strongest boy is Blue and the strip club is my school—and the only man I need protection from is him.

“Last,” I say, my voice so gravelly I can barely make it out.

“What?”

“You said you’ll be trying my pussy for the first time. And it will be the last time too.”

A slow smile crosses his face. “We’ll see, gorgeous. We’ll just fucking see about that.”

I MANAGE to get through my routine the same as always. The hoots from the men are just as loud. The tips are just as good. I keep up appearances because I’m too damn good at it.

Inside, I’m rattled.

When I exit the stage, I don’t even hit the floor. That’s where I can make the most money, but I head for the back. Maybe I’m a little freaked out after what happened in the VIP room last time. Or maybe I just don’t want to see Blue watching me, judging me, while other men paw at me.

My breasts bounce a little as I walk. I’m naked except for my G-string.

I should be comfortable this way. I’ve definitely walked this hallway naked many times before. Only this time I can’t help thinking about a certain man I’ve passed here before.

We’ll just fucking see about that.

A looming shadow appears before me, like something supernatural—only it’s no ghost that I bump into, bare breasts and all. I stumble, clumsy, and his hands reach out to steady me.

“Careful.” Blue.

It’s like I’ve summoned him just by thinking of him. He touches my arms, just my arms, but my skin gets goose bumps as if it’s more. My nipples harden into points. I cover them with my hands, somehow modest even though he would have just seen me onstage. He doesn’t release me, so I stand there, cupping my breasts, my arms held by his.

I’ve been fondled and spanked. I’ve been mauled in the goddamn VIP room. But this is the most intimate position I’ve been in for a long time. It’s the most intimate position I’ve been in since he last held me five years ago.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice wobbling. Even then he takes his time releasing me. I stumble back against the wall. “I’ve been thinking about Saturday.”

“Me too, gorgeous,” he says, his voice low in the dark hallway. “It’s all I can think about.”

Shit. I’d been hoping it was some adrenaline-fueled fantasy, that he’d change his mind once we were back at the club. “I don’t think—”

“You’re not going to cancel on me, are you?”

The warning in his tone doesn’t give me much choice. Still I have to try. “It’s not a good idea to get involved with someone at work.”

He laughs. “We’re already involved.”

“Right, well.” I’m almost stammering—how does he do this to me? “This would be more involved. And Ivan wouldn’t like it.”

“Ivan doesn’t have to know.” He steps close, pressing me against the wall with his body, and I gasp. The concrete behind me is cool. His body is a furnace. “Besides, Ivan isn’t exactly focused on playing by the rules.”

“Maybe I like following rules.”

“That’s not the way I remember you.” He nuzzles my temple, almost the way an animal would scent another one. “I remember the wild girl I couldn’t get enough of.”

“That was me then. I was…troubled.”

“You’re working as a stripper. Most people would call that troubled.”

Hurt lashes me. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. I know where you came from. I know what made you this way. I know why you like a man who’ll push you around a little.”

Shock and pain are like a cold fist around my heart. “How dare you bring my father into this.”

I hate that I ever told him. Honesty makes you vulnerable. Most foster kids would know never to share that kind of information. They’d know not to make themselves weak. But I’d lost myself when it came to Blue. I told him about my father, a member of a local MC gang and all around lowlife. He’d got himself locked up after an armed robbery. Things didn’t go much better for him after getting locked up. He got into fight after fight, ending up hospitalized more than not.

And my mother—she hadn’t been able to handle life without him.

Blue leans close. “Am I wrong?”

It makes too much sense to be wrong. It’s sick if I’ve been seeking out men like my father—common criminals and assholes alike. Sometimes I feel sick.

And sometimes I feel like pushing back. “Are you proud to be like him?” I ask. “A fucking criminal? He rotted in that jail cell until someone stuck a shiv in him. Is that what you are?”

He pulls back enough to let me breathe. I can tell I’ve shocked him.

No shock comes through his voice. He speaks in a lazy drawl. “No, sweetheart. As hard as you tried to get me locked up, it didn’t work.”

I never wanted him locked up. “You enlisted.”

I hadn’t known where he’d gone then, but I recognized the military bearing when he showed up again.

“They didn’t know what to do with me, so they shoved a gun in my hand and shipped me overseas. That’s kind of like what you did to me, isn’t it? I guess you were both hoping I’d get myself killed. That I wouldn’t come back.”

I love and hate that he came back. “Blue, I’m—”

“Saturday. No backing out.” He stalks off before I can answer.

It’s probably for the best that he interrupted. For the best that he left. I was about to say I’m sorry.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“SUGAR?”

Honor shakes her head. “None for me.”

Mrs. Owens smiles vaguely. I think she’s already forgotten the question she asked.

I pour from the china teapot with the chipped lid. It’s a beautiful piece. Maybe it would even be worth some money—money that we desperately need. I couldn’t do that to Mrs. Owens, though. She’s so proud of them. They’re her one indulgence, the one thing she remembers every day.

Sometimes she doesn’t even remember who I am.

“Were these passed down to you?” Honor asks.

Mrs. Owens stares into space.

I answer for her, hoping the words will bring her back to the present. “These came from an estate sale thirty years ago. That’s where she got most of her sets. She used to check the obituaries to see if someone rich had died so she could get the best stuff.”

“How mercenary,” Honor says. “I approve. And the china is beautiful.”

Mrs. Owens doesn’t even blink.

I’m losing her. I feel her drifting farther away every day. That’s bad enough, but I worry about her safety when I’m gone. I unplug the stove, taking away her only comfort—her ability to make tea. But I worry that she’ll figure out how to squeeze back there to plug it back in. I worry that she’ll find some other way to light a fire in the cooktop.

I worry that she’ll wander down the street and never come back.

“How are you two doing?” Honor asks softly, breaking me from my reverie.

“I don’t know. Some days it’s just like before, when I was a kid. They were the best six months of my childhood.” Except for my time with Blue.

“And other days?”

“Other days I know she needs to be in a facility with nurses who can care for her around the clock. Who have locks on the doors and a button to press if she needs something.”

Sympathy is clear on Honor’s face. “Can I help? I have some money saved up from the Grand.” Her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Kip still refuses to let me help pay the bills with it. I think he’d rather burn it.”

A few months ago she was just like me, stripping and struggling to get by. After she met Kip, things changed quickly. Her past caught up to her—and Kip was there to protect her. She was there to protect him too. Since then they’ve been living together in his home.

“Oh hell no,” I say. “You worked your ass for that.”

She laughs. “Literally. I’ve gained a size since I stopped dancing.”

“Well, you look fabulous.” It’s not a lie. She’s practically glowing. It could just be general happiness—or maybe a kind of sex glow, since I know how much Kip was into her. Her stomach still seems pretty flat, but I wonder if there is another cause for that happy glow.

Her shoulder lifts. “Well, it’s just sitting there, so if you needed…”

I make a face. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. I looked into a few places, and the costs are just crazy. I could work at the Grand every night for a year and just cover the cost of a month.”

“Damn.” She glances at Mrs. Owens, who seems to have drifted off to sleep. “And she didn’t…”

Have savings, she means. “Just the house, which she owns. But it was in major disrepair when I found her again and moved in. I’ve been fixing things up when I can and keeping up with the bills, but that’s about it.”

I’ve been drowning, that’s what I mean to say.

From the sober look on Honor’s face, she knows it. Her next words come out slow and careful. “What about Blue?”

Alertness zings through my body, just like every time I hear his name. “What about him?”

“It seemed like you two had a thing.”

My laugh is hollow. “Yeah, I guess you could say we had a thing. A long time ago.”

“Oh.” Her gaze hits the table before meeting mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing really to talk about. I ruin everything good I ever have. Which was really only him. He was the only good thing I had, and I broke him.”

Her eyes fill with concern. “He doesn’t seem broken to me.”

“Not anymore.” I remember how he looked the last day I saw him five years ago. Hurt, angry. Like a man vowing revenge. I had a feeling he’d be getting that someday soon.

“I don’t think you could have hurt him, Lola. Not if you cared about him. That’s not you.”

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” I say, my throat raw, my chest tight. “But I did—and the worst part is, I wasn’t even sorry. Even now, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“HOLD STILL.”

The words are whispered into my ear, hot and faintly wet. I close my eyes. Tears squeeze down onto my cheeks. I’m bent over the bed, inhaling the dank scent of the bare mattress. There are stains I don’t want to contemplate.

Some of them probably came from me.

There’s a hard thrust, and I can’t help but whimper. I clamp my mouth tight and taste blood.

“Do you like that?” comes the breathless voice from behind me. “Does your boyfriend do it like that?”

I shudder at the stabbing pain, holding myself still and closed. I only have to get through this. I only have to survive.

“Hannah?” The voice comes from outside the room—familiar and beloved. No.

He can’t come in here. He can’t see my like this. I try to call out, to tell him not to come inside, but only a croak comes out. I’m too broken to even speak, too lost.

The door opens, and I only have seconds to glimpse the surprise in his eyes. And the rage.

Then he’s flying across the room. There’s no more invasion in my body, no more hands holding me down. Only the smack of flesh on flesh, the grunt of animals locked in battle.

I know this is a fight to the death.

CHAPTER NINE

I STARE at the glass doors that open and close. Of all the places I could imagine Blue living, it’s not here.

I would have thought a run-down apartment building with rent by the week. I would have imagined sour milk and a stack of empty pizza boxes for a coffee table. Not that I think he’s broke. Ivan takes good care of the bouncers, just like he does for the girls. If my money wasn’t getting sucked into dialysis and a gas bill for a forty-year-old house with no insulation, I’d be rolling in the dough too. As it is, there’s a twenty in my pocket that’s going to be cab fare home.

It’s just that Blue seems like the quintessential bachelor—down to work and to fuck.

Not the kind of man who has a doorman who nods to me as I step up to the desk. “Ms. Bowman?”

My heart jumps in my throat, and it doesn’t go back down even when the kind-eyed old man smiles.

I force myself to chill the fuck out. No matter where Blue lives, whether it’s on the streets or a goddamn skyscraper, Blue is just another horny guy. I’ve known so many of them. Too many of them.

“That’s me.”

“Mr. Blue is expecting you.” The man nodded toward the elevators. “You can go on up. Twelfth floor.”

I don’t meet his eyes as I murmur my thanks. I can’t imagine what this man thinks of me, showing up here at night when I’ve never visited before.

Actually, I can imagine. I’ve heard the words flung at me a million times since I was a teenager. Slut. Whore. At least those times I did what I needed to survive. In a way that’s still what I’m doing now.

My red heels click on the smooth tile surface. Gleaming elevator doors reflect a woman in a pretty dress and a cheap jacket. All flash and no substance. It’s a relief when the doors close behind me, locking me in, leaving me alone as the elevator whooshes up. I shut my eyes against the mirrors around me and focus on my breathing.

There’s still time to back out.

I could go downstairs, hide my face and my shame from the kind-eyed doorman, and walk back onto the street where I belong. Blue wouldn’t follow me. He wouldn’t force me.

At least, I think he wouldn’t.

He’d been pretty forceful in that damn locker room.

The truth is that I owe him. He knows it. I know it. The only question is whether I’m going to pay up. Five years ago I was the kind of girl who’d shove him out the door without even a goodbye. Now I’m the girl who returns his wallet when it would be easy to shove it in the garbage and pretend I never saw it. I’m the girl who pays what I owe—I need to know I’m not the girl I was before. I need to know I’m worth anything at all.

The elevator doors slide open with a hushed sound. The quiet of the hallway rings in my ears. Everything is grayscale—the muted walls and the plush carpet. The silver knockers on every door. This place is a kind of bachelor pad, one made for wealthy men.

The kind that don’t need to be working security at a strip club, no matter how much Ivan is paying.

I’m standing there, confused, paralyzed, when a door opens.

“Hannah?”

My heart bangs against my chest. His voice sounds so sweet, so familiar. God.

I can’t take it. I can take his hands on me or his dick inside me, but I can’t take his voice saying my name. I can’t stand him thinking I’m that girl, the one too innocent and too broken, the one who loved him and the one who sent him away.

I turn and run for the elevator, which slides closed, just out of reach. My heel snags on the carpet, and I stumble. I’m falling, flying, the world a blur of gray and silver and tears in my eyes.

Strong hands catch me.

“Watch it,” he says in that same voice he uses to threaten me, to compliment me. They’re the same thing when they come from him. Everything about him warns me away and draws me close. I’m tearing apart just to be near him, breaking under the weight of my fear and desire.

“Let me go,” I whisper.

He doesn’t. His hands tighten on my arms. “Where are you going?”

“Away from here.” Away from you. “This was a mistake.”

“Ah,” he says. Just that, and then he tugs me gently toward him. The heat of his chest is solid against my back, supporting me and holding me in place. “Are you afraid of me, Hannah?”

My teeth clench. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

He pauses as if I’ve surprised him. “Why does it matter, with just you and me here?”

I force myself to take a deep breath. Straightening, I turn to face him. His eyes are curious, his stance wary. And he isn’t wearing any shoes. That’s what strikes me about him. The gray T-shirt snug around his arms, the worn jeans. They’re more casual versions of what he wears at the club every night. But he always has on thick shoes, almost like boots, when he works. Even at the fight, with no shirt on, he had slipped into big, unlaced sneakers before coming into the locker room.

Only now, standing in the hallway of his apartment building, is he standing without shoes. It makes him seem somehow more real—a real man, with real hopes and dreams that I can never be a part of. The future is for some other girl. I’m just the tease he needs to fuck to forget, the bitch he needs to punish. I’m the sentence, and this night, this is a period.

My feet carry me backward. Somehow I manage not to trip. My hands grope the smooth wall and find the button—and press.

His eyes narrow. “Lola?”

I hate that he gets it right this time. That he respects me enough to call me what I want.

But not enough to let me leave.

He steps forward. “You’ve come this far, gorgeous. You’re going to finish this.”

I raise my head. Never mind if my whole body is trembling—I will meet his eyes, those dark pools of lust and resentment, like windows to the past. “And if I say no?”

The windows frost over. “That’s not an option.”

Elevator doors slide open behind me. I glance at the empty mirrored box.

“Don’t,” he says.

I close my eyes. I’m not sure how I found the strength to come here.

I don’t think I have the strength to leave.

He steps toward me slowly, casually. His hand is tight when it fists in my hair. I remember he used to love my hair. He used to stroke it, to play with it, to press the strands between his blunt square-tipped fingers. Now all he wants to do is pull it, use it like a leash to yank my head back. I stare at a chrome light fixture. Yellow light clashes with the stinging tears in my eyes, making a kaleidoscope, something pretty in the face of an ugly past, an ugly present.

His voice is low in my ear. “You’re going to walk down that hall and go inside my apartment. Then you’re going to strip. I don’t need to watch. I see you do that any night of the week. What I want is what comes after. You. On the couch. Facedown, ass in the air, ready to take whatever I give you.”

HE SAID he didn’t need to watch, but I still thought he would. It’s somehow more unnerving to get undressed when I’m standing alone in the living room.

It makes me feel ashamed, which shouldn’t even be possible after what I’ve done at the club. Blue is just gifted like that—gifted at making me feel like shit. I take off my dress with quick, efficient movements and toss it onto a chair in the corner. My heels get kicked off to the floor underneath. My bra and panties come next. Then I’m naked in a room I’ve never been in, my skin pebbling under the cool air from the vent above me.

Blue returns from the kitchen with an amber bottle hanging from his fingers.

Only one bottle. Of course he hasn’t offered me a drink. I’m not here to enjoy myself, and he’s not my host. We aren’t going to pretend this is a date. I haven’t forgotten what this is about, but if I ever do, he’ll remind me with the subtle digs.

He nods to the couch. “Bend over. I want to see what those fuckers don’t get to.”

And the not so subtle digs.

My skin is covered entirely in goose bumps. Even my nipples are stiff and proud, like some cruel parody of arousal. I’m not even wearing my heels anymore, but my legs are wobbly when I cross the small space.

The carpet is softer than anything I’ve ever felt. This is the floor where he walks with those bare feet. This is the floor he might lounge on or do push-ups on. This is the floor he might fuck some other girl on, a girl he actually likes, one he doesn’t order to bend over.

The leather of the couch looks worn—artfully worn, like rich people have. Even in my shame and my nervousness, I have the sense to wonder where he got all that money.

And why he’s corralling drunk assholes at the Grand if he doesn’t have to.

“Now, Lola. Stop stalling.”

His voice sends a shiver down my spine. Cool leather kisses the fronts of my thighs. I bend at the waist, using every ounce of grace, of strength I’ve built up while stripping. He wants to see something those fuckers don’t see, but that’s all I show him—the smooth descent, the blunt display of my ass, as if I were onstage and he were standing two feet away with a twenty in his hand.

It feels like a victory, that small defiance. Like I’ve held something back.

Especially when I hear his breath catch at the sight.

Confidence steadies me as I dig my heels into the soft pile. My hands stroke the buttery leather before settling into place, fingers spread.

The heat from his body touches me first. It breaks through my defenses, invisible and undeniable. A hundred men have touched me, have grabbed me, have ground their dicks against me. And just the whisper of his body, the evidence of his nearness makes my heart pound.

His finger is featherlight against the small of my back. He touches me like I’m delicate, breakable, when we both know I’m anything but. He touches me like he’s tracing the lines of me, drawing the curve of my ass, dipping into the tender space between my legs.

“You’re shaking,” he says as if remarking on the weather. “And you’re wet.”

Of course his words only make me shake harder. They only make me wetter.

He leans down, his forefinger notched to my pussy, barely invading me, casually possessive. His mouth is close to my ear, his whisper low and gruff. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” I lie.

Two fingers shove inside me, deep and fast. My body is lubricated, but not enough. I flinch and hop up on my toes. It presses my face into the cushion—and I think that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Tell me the truth,” he says, the spider to the fly.

I’m already caught in his web. There’s no way out.

My voice is muffled even to my own ears, mouth half-smashed against a leather couch that probably cost more than my car. “Candy says you’re not really going to hurt me. She says you…you just want to fuck me. That you’re not really mad.”

His fingers stroke me deeply, intimately, soothing me after the rough burn of entry. “Five years would be a long time to hold on to a grudge.”

Part of me wants him to agree, to say that all this was some strange seduction, to assure me that I have nothing to fear. But if he told me that, it would be a lie. He may hide his anger well, especially if Candy couldn’t see it. I can see it. I can feel it as he adds a third finger before I’m ready.

I rise up on my toes again, breath held in my chest, cheeks hot with embarrassment. He touches the inside of me as easily as another man might hold my hand. No, this is less intimate than that. This is a man reaching inside his car to twist a knob. This is a man touching something he owns.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I whisper.

There. I’ve asked the question, and I know that if he does answer me, it will be honest. Whatever his answer, I can take it. I’ve felt pain before, felt hate and rage. Even if it seems like it will be different coming from him—sharper and more personal. I’ll survive. If there’s one thing I know I can do, it’s survive.

His hand stills. I imagine him looking directly at me, staring at the pink skin stretched around his fingers. It’s humiliating being this open to him while he’s still dressed. Humiliating with the light on. Humiliating when he takes a swig from his beer bottle with one hand while the other is still pressed inside me.

“And ruin the surprise?” he asks mildly.

My jaw clenches tight. My eyes shut too. “I’ve never been a fan of surprises.”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I can’t say that I’m a fan either.”

I cringe knowing he’s thinking of that awful night. It had been one hell of a surprise when I’d accused him of raping me. He would hardly be a fan of them after that.

“So I’ll tell you the answer,” he says, pulling his fingers from me with a wet sound. Those damp fingers press against my back hole in an answer more eloquent than words. “Yes, you’ll probably be hurt tonight.”

I swallow, knowing I shouldn’t feel disappointed. And definitely not scared. I knew what I was getting into when I came here, didn’t I? And if I had clung to some stupid fairy-tale idea of him, something clearly false, at least when it came to me, that was my own damn fault.

He leans forward, resting his arm on my back. I feel like a piece of furniture, like an extension of this sofa, something soft and sturdy for him to rest on.

“And tomorrow night,” he adds. “I took you out of rotation.”

I gasp in shock and indignation. “What the hell?”

“And the next night after that.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Three nights, Lola. I don’t think that’s too much to ask after what you did. I don’t think it’s enough, actually, but I can be lenient.”

I struggle, I fight. I want to be standing when I yell at him for doing this. I want this to be an even playing field, but he’s already resting his weight on my back. I went over the arm of this couch willingly, and now I’m trapped. “You had no right to do that. Just because I agreed—”

“Unless you want me to tell Ivan about those sticky little fingers of yours? He’s lenient with you girls, but I don’t think he would like thinking you’re stealing from the customers. Or from him.”

“I don’t,” I gasp. “I don’t steal from him or from—”

His body moves as if in a shrug. “Who can say? And to be honest, I don’t give a fuck.”

I fight again, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. One that’s resting comfortably, casually on my back. The anger seeps out of me, replaced by worry, by sadness that we’ve come this far. I turn my forehead into the cushion, hiding and self-soothing. “I can’t go three nights without getting paid,” I say into the leather.

There’s a long pause. “I’ll make up the difference.”

He’ll pay me for sex? God, even when he’s being cruel, he’s kind. “No.”

The thought of it makes my stomach turn over. If this is about a debt, then we need to be square at the end of it. I fucked him over once, and he’s giving it back. It’s supposed to hurt.

“No money,” I say, staring at the blur of light and black leather. “If we do this, we do it on my off days—like today. I work my regular schedule. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

This pause is longer, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he going to try to force me to miss work? Is he going to force me to take his money? I think that would be the worst punishment, to be made his whore as well as his plaything.

He strokes a hand over my back like I’m an animal—petting me. “One night a week.”

My skin tingles, and I force myself not to arch into his touch. “How many weeks?”

He doesn’t answer. He just grabs me by the hair and lifts.

CHAPTER TEN

“THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT, Hannah. Mrs. Moreno has the pictures of your bruises. We need to know who hurt you.”

I refuse to look up, to meet his eyes. My voice is a whisper. “I told her.”

“We have her statement, but I need to hear it from you.”

After a long beat of silence, I look up into the kind eyes of a judge. He looks sorry for me. Everyone is sorry for me. They just can’t help me. Isn’t that what Blue told me? That they don’t understand what it’s like in the system. They shove us around like dolls in cardboard houses.

I grasp the wood handles of the chair, already slick from my palms. “What will happen to him?”

The judge looks tired. “That depends on a lot of factors.”

“Like what?”

He doesn’t want to tell me. I can see that much. “It depends on if there’s a trial or not.”

This isn’t a trial. It’s just a hearing to figure out if I should be left at the house or removed. Blue probably has a hearing just like this one. Of course Matthew won’t have one, because he’s not a foster kid. He’s one of the actual kids who live at that house.

“There won’t be a trial.” I don’t say it like a question. I may be young, but I know that much. I’m just a stupid little girl from the wrong side of the tracks. A girl whose daddy ended up in jail. A girl whose mother took too many pills and never woke up.

Girls like us, we don’t get trials.

The judge looks down at his papers. He shuffles them around. He doesn’t want to tell me the truth, but he doesn’t want to lie. I appreciate that, at least.

His voice is severe when he repeats, “Hannah, we need to know who hurt you.”

“It was Blue,” I whisper. “Eugene Blue.”

If I say it was Matthew, they’ll remove me from the home. And Blue too. But they won’t be able to prosecute Matthew. He won’t go to jail. He won’t be punished in any way—except by Blue.

He’ll go back and finish the job. It took two of the older boys at the home plus Matthew’s drunk-ass dad to pull Blue off him. And I’m grateful. They’re the only reason Blue isn’t standing trial for murder.

It doesn’t matter that he’s a minor. There’s no way they’d let him off a second time. And if they let us out, Blue will finish the job. He’ll get himself in prison—I know it.

If I say it was Blue, if I say he hurt me, they’ll send him away. Far away. Exactly where he wanted to go.

He won’t be able to come back.

I already know he doesn’t want to.

THE WHISTLE of a belt coming off follows me into Blue’s bedroom. My breath stutters in my chest. I hear the threat of the movement, the speed and power behind it. It’s more than a man getting undressed.

There’s a hundred ways a belt can be used to hurt me. I know them well.

I turn my head to the side, addressing him but showing deference too. It’s an instinct now. It’s survival. “What are you going to do with that?”

“I’d rather show you,” he says, approaching me, prowling around me.

I don’t want him to hit me with that belt. Not because I can’t take the pain. I know I can, because I’ve done it before. I don’t want him to hit me because I might start hating him.

“Wait,” I say.

He doesn’t wait. One hand takes my wrist. Standing behind me, he leans close. “What do you think I’ll do with this? Make your pretty skin all red? Make you cry?”

I tense, twisting my arm. It only hurts me, and I’m still held tight. “Don’t.”

“I’m going to do both of those things before we’re done here, Lola.” He pauses, loosening his grip slightly. “But I’m not going to whip you with this.”

There’s only a second where I can feel relieved before I feel him drawing my other hand behind me. It’s a mistake to relax around him. Whatever I’m thinking, he’s doing something different. However much I brace myself, it’s still going to hurt.

He wraps the soft leather around my wrists, binding them together behind my back. It pushes my breasts out in front of me. Cool air brushes over my skin, tightening my nipples.

There’s weakness in this pose, being held, being open.

And there’s strength too, the pride of being wanted, the power of desire.

“On your knees,” he says so softly I almost don’t hear him.

I don’t know what he’s thinking. Whether he sees me as an object he can use or as an enemy he can conquer. I’m a little off balance, lilting to the side as I sink to the carpet. His hands cup my arms, helping me down, guiding my gently. It feels more like worship than anger, more like kindness than cruelty.

At least until the sharp sound of his zipper rips through the air.

His voice follows. “Candy doesn’t think I’ll hurt you.”

I shiver at the foreboding underneath the words. “Yes.”

He undresses slowly, methodically, exposing rough skin and dark hair and a thick, jutting cock.

I have seen his cock before, but only in the dark, holding it in my fist while I jerked him off, shadows and motion. Now I see the skin like the dark side of a peach, almost the color of a bruise. I see the curve of a vein underneath. I see the head of his cock, fat and proud and already glistening at the tip.

I see everything clearly because the saturated late-afternoon light still streams through his window. Our hours are all backward and twisted. Where another woman would do this at midnight, would expose her shame to the moon, mine comes open at five o’clock.

“She thinks you’re safe with me because I protect the other girls.” He approaches me, his cock near my face, his eyes looking down on me. “I even protect you.”

I choke out the words. “Because only you get to touch me.”

He nods approvingly. Candy doesn’t understand, he means. I understand. He’s showing me that we’re together on this, like some perverted joint mission where I agree to be hurt. And haven’t I? I showed up here of my own free will. Maybe I do want what’s coming to me.

And still, there’s a part of me—a weak, scared little girl curled up on a flea-infested bed from the past—who wants it to stop. Who digs her heels into the train tracks as if that might fortify her, as if that might stop the train that’s speeding closer.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I say because it is the awful, painful truth. Because I failed.

Because I’m weak and scared, and if he knows I never meant to hurt him, maybe he won’t hurt me.

He tastes the words, letting them roll on his tongue. “You never meant to hurt me.”

I’m already on my knees, hands bound behind me. Naked. All I have to protect me is his mercy, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have any where I’m concerned.

I am sure of it when his hand lands in my hair, squeezing tight, pushing my head back. His eyes meet mine, and I see there a dark promise. A quick shake and I’m backed up against the side of the bed, fallen against it and unable to right myself.

“I’m just wondering when exactly that was.” He brushes the head of his cock against my lips. “When you told me you’d be my girl, when you held my hand and smiled at me, was that when you didn’t mean to hurt me?”

It’s a trick question; I know that. It’s designed to tear me apart. I know that too. And still I answer, “Yes.”

When my mouth opens on the word, when my lips are parted, that’s when he shoves his cock inside.

“When you decided to fuck another one of your foster brothers, was that when you thought to yourself, I don’t want to hurt Blue?”

My head shakes no—and I’m not sure what it even means. I wasn’t thinking about him in that moment. I was trying to protect myself, and maybe that’s worse, the selfishness of fighting for me instead of us. Maybe that split second was why I lost him after all.

He pushes his hips forward, and his cock slides over my tongue. It leaves a trail of salt and musk, something to follow him down my throat. He’s full and large. My head jerks back, but he’s got me in his grip. The sharp pain on my scalp brings tears to my eyes. Then I’m being choked, throat fucked, by the man—the boy—I once loved.

“I guess it was later,” he says conversationally, as if his cock isn’t down my throat, as if the flat plane of his abs isn’t bumping my nose with every deep thrust. “When I walked in and found you with your panties down, bent over the bed. That was when you decided you didn’t want to hurt me.”

He’s moving faster now, and it’s affecting his speech, words coming on a punch of breath. It’s a sharp contrast to me, those rapid breaths, because I can’t breathe at all. My arms are aching, twisted back and wrapped in leather and pressed against the wall of metal and mattress. My jaw burns from being stretched open. My throat feels bruised from the invasion, and he only digs deeper.

“And I was worried. That’s the worst part, that I thought he might be hurting you, might be forcing you, because it looked that way. And because I believed you wouldn’t cheat on me.”

He presses in deep, stealing all my air. I can only open my eyes wide and look up at him.

“But it turns out you just like it rough, isn’t that right?”

I’m not looking at him anymore. I’m looking at a kaleidoscope of him, his face in a million shards, swirling sideways through my tears. I never liked it rough, and I never wanted to hurt him. Those things are true, but of course he wouldn’t believe me. Couldn’t believe me, after it all ended.

“I just didn’t give it to you hard enough,” he says, stroking my hair while he leaves his dick pressed deep. “So that’s probably why you decided to tell everyone that was me with you. That’s why you decided to tell everyone that I raped you. So that I’d be sent away without you even having to break up with me. Because you didn’t want to hurt me.”

The lights dim, at least in my mind. I’m a second from passing out when he pulls back. I cough and sputter spit and precum onto his abs. He presses my face against the wetness, against his heat, soothing me as I breathe again.

“Is that right?” he asks softly. “Did I explain it right? Is that why you did it? Is that why you got me sent away from the last fucking foster home I had? Is that why I ended up in a goddamn interrogation room, wondering if I was going to jail for the rest of my miserable fucking life, all because the only person I thought gave a shit about me was a liar? Is that why I spent the next four years in the army, always looking over my shoulder, wondering if your lies were going to finally catch up to me?”

I can’t tell him why I did it. He knows it doesn’t really make sense, but he can chalk it up to my being young and stupid and awful. “Close enough,” I say.

He nods. His voice sounds a little sad when he says, “I thought so.”

His hand clenches tight against my scalp. That’s the only warning I have before he lifts. I stagger to my fight, legs weak and wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, he sends me facedown on the bed.

Then he’s on top of me, body heavy and hot, cock pressed against the soft flesh of my ass.

“Then it’s lucky for you I can be harder now. Rougher now.” His cock pushes inside me, splitting me open. I gasp against the bedspread, and he laughs low. “I had a lot of time in a fucking war zone to think about how I’d fuck you when I got the chance.”

A whimper escapes me as his cock impales me and his weight crushes me. Even my face is pressed to the bed, smothering me, making it hard to breathe. “Blue.”

“I know,” he says, stroking my back. “I know it hurts. I’d tell you to hold on, but I think your hands are tied at the moment.”

The fabric by my face becomes hot, then cold as tears slide down my cheeks. “Blue,” I say on a choked gasp.

He pulls out and shoves back in, and it feels like tearing. It feels like coming apart. “Just hold on to me instead,” he says, and then his hands are holding mine. Even tied up by his belt, even fucked hard, he’s holding my hand, and maybe that’s what hurts worst of all.

I don’t know how long he fucks me. It feels like forever that he’s sawing in and out of me, his hands harsh on my hips, his breath hot on the back of my neck. Long enough that I should burn up from the friction of us, set alight by the strike of his cock, turned to ash where I stand. But I’m not dry, I’m not dust—I’m drenched. Wet from fear, from shame. Is that possible? Our juices trickle down the inside of my thigh. I feel the tickle of it despite the pounding he’s giving me, my skin oversensitized, my body attuned and alert.

He pulls out, and my body doesn’t know what to do. It clenches around nothing—and it hurts. It hurts to tighten like a fist, to hold on to something that isn’t there.

He rolls onto the bed, taking my body with him. Then he’s lying flat, and I’m above him. Being on top means control, except when your hands are tied behind your back. He has to be the one to line up his cock and push inside. He’s the one to slap my hip and tell me, “Ride.”

My eyes close, hiding me, shielding me, but I do what he says. I roll my hips in a movement I know too well, fucking him. I jerk him off with my pussy the same way I could with my hands or my mouth. I ride him to the peak until he’s grunting on every downward slide and following me with his hips when I lift up.

And then it does feel like control.

I’m still at his mercy, hands behind my back, breasts bouncing on every rocking movement, lips open on hungry breaths. But it’s him who’s looking up at me with fierceness, with longing. It’s him who’s groaning as if his world is breaking apart.

His eyes are half-glazed with pleasure now, and I know his orgasm is minutes away—seconds. He reaches for my neck, and for a moment, with his large palm against my throat, his fingers wrapped around, it’s like he’s choking me. He is choking me, using my neck to hold me still while he fucks up into me.

But then he reaches around to the back of my neck and pulls me down. It’s a kiss, unexpected and tragic, that makes the tears finally fall. It’s the sweetness that makes me come. It’s the rough groan against my mouth, vibrating through my lips, over my skin, running all the way down to my clit, that tells me he’s finally let go.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HIS BREATHING EVENS OUT. Mine too. He’s quiet long enough that I think he’s sleeping. My hands are untied now, but I haven’t run away. I’m still here. His hand is heavy just below my breasts, a possessive claim, a junkyard dog with a bone he’s keeping.

“When did you leave?” he asks. “After me?”

I tense, because anything to do with him leaving is an extremely sore subject. It’s just another opportunity to attack me. He got sent back to group and then shipped off to the military. Meanwhile I got to stay in the foster home, one with enough food and clothes to go around. He thinks I screwed him over—because I did. He’ll never let me forget. He’ll ruin me, remembering.

His hand strokes my hair gently, almost absently. Maybe he’s just curious.

“Just a few months after,” I manage to say, wondering how much I’ll reveal. Wondering how much he’ll make me reveal.

He stiffens beside me. His eyes snap open, intent and questioning. “Why’d they move you?”

“They didn’t. I left.”

Silence for a beat. “You didn’t turn eighteen for another year.”

I shrug, wishing I felt as nonchalant as I sound. “I didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“So where did you go?”

“Here and there. Nowhere.”

I give him enough to figure it out. Where did I live? The street. What did I do to survive? Everything. I don’t really want to talk about it, least of all with him.

His voice is low when he speaks again. “Did you get your diploma?”

No. My cheeks burn. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal from where I’m sitting. You were all about school when I was there. You knew it was your ticket out.”

I laugh darkly. “I think we both know how that turned out.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Lola. Why did you run away? You had a good thing going there. I thought…I figured you sent me away because I was too much in your business. More into you than you were into me.”

My breath catches. It’s like a stab wound, hearing him talk about my deception so casually. But what twists the knife is that he’d somehow rationalized it, like I might have had a quasi-self-protective reason for doing it.

“It wasn’t like that,” is all I can say. I don’t need the excuses he’s giving me. I don’t want them.

His voice is musing. “But if you left right after…”

My heart pounds. I can’t let him figure the rest out. I can’t let him know the truth. He may not have hurt me, but someone did. That’s the only reason I’d have chosen the cold regard of the streets over a warm bed. That’s the only reason I’d have danced on a pole for food instead of grabbing an apple from a kitchen counter. He lived that life with me. He knows what can happen to a girl unprotected. He just never knew it happened to me, that it happened while he was there, all along.

No, it would break me for him to find out. It would ruin me more than rough sex ever could.

I distract him the best way I know how. The only way I know how. With my hand on his cock and my breasts pressed against his side. He responds instantly, growing hard and still.

“We aren’t here to talk,” I whisper.

“We can do both,” he says, but I already hear the lust in his voice. I already feel it creeping over his curiosity like thick, choking vines.

“This isn’t about catching up,” I say. “It’s about saying goodbye.”

His breath catches, and then he’s turning me over, spreading me wide, agreeing without words that this will be over soon. That the truth would only hurt us both. That some secrets are better left unspoken.

It should be impossible, but he’s rougher with me than before, fucking me harder and faster and deeper. He pushes moans out of me. I’m caught in a whirlwind, his whirlwind. It feels like a punishment, as if he’s angry at me for telling him that much. As if he’s angry at himself for asking.

He slows suddenly, pupils large and dark, almost alien, as he stares down at me. “How much will you do for me, Lola? How far will you go?”

I thought it couldn’t get worse than before—the humiliation of him inspecting me, fully clothed. Fucking my mouth with my hands behind my back. I thought that was the most he could degrade me, the worst he could do.

Apparently not.

I whimper on a powerful thrust. “How much do you need?”

I don’t mean it as an offer. It’s a plea. I can’t believe he wants more from me. And I know it will never be enough.

His smile sends a sliver of fear to my gut. God, it shouldn’t be handsome when he looks at me that way. He should have two horns on his head and a tail. His skin should be red. Instead he’s every dream I’ve ever had, my own perverted guardian angel.

“Open your mouth, Lola,” he says softly.

I’m already open to him in every way possible. My legs are spread as he fucks my pussy. He’s already kissed and licked and fucked my mouth. What else is there to do?

The light in his eyes tells me I’m about to find out.

Hesitantly, tremulously, I open my mouth. It’s awkward like that, mouth open with nothing inside. I’m meant to be filled with him, but he lets me sit that way, his gaze dark with anticipation. It’s terrifying to think what might excite him like that. What might humiliate me enough to please him.

One large hand gathers my wrists above my head before I can think to protest. His other hand cups my jaw, opening it wider.

He bends his head—for a kiss?

A rough sound comes from his throat, and then he slowly, methodically spits into my mouth.

It lands wetly on my tongue, surprising and foreign and tasteless. I swallow reflexively, and then it’s gone—but the aftereffects linger, the shame in my belly and the heat in my cheeks. A shudder racks my body, and his eyes flicker.

“Fuck,” he says. “Everything I do to you makes me want you more.”

I close my eyes. I don’t know how much more I can take.

My hands are still above my head when he reaches between our bodies, where we’re joined. His other hand rubs my clit, and I’m way too tender. I let out a shriek because it hurts.

“Shhh,” he says, rubbing harder.

I struggle to get away, to get relief, but I’m well contained, completely under his control.

It takes me a minute to realize what he’s doing, that he’s wringing spasms out of my body, that he’s clenching my inner muscles around his cock with every harsh stroke of his thumb on my clit.

He finally releases my hands so he can cup my breast, and that too is for him. Not me. He’s not trying to make me feel good, he’s just using me—my pussy, my breasts, my mouth. Every part of me a soft place to wrap around himself, to rub off on.

His face twists in ecstasy, and he finishes himself off in three fast, hard thrusts. Hot seed bathes me inside, stinging all the skin he’s rubbed raw.

Even then he doesn’t let up rubbing my clit.

There’s a wet sound as he pulls out. He dips two fingers inside my pussy and scoops his come out. With a cold glint in his eyes, he pushes those fingers inside my mouth. Salt and arousal spill onto my tongue, made rough by the calluses of his hands. I know for sure it’s a punishment now, and it’s working. I want to repent, but all I can do is lick his fingers clean and come against his other hand, choking and gasping his name, too garbled to understand.

I collapse back on the bed, spent from my tears and my orgasm, boneless.

Time passes, and I drift on the waves of pleasure and degradation. They’re more alike than I would have thought possible. He must think I’m sleeping, because he moves a lock of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“How much more?” he mutters as if to himself.

And maybe that’s the scariest part, that even he doesn’t know where the hard edge is. He’ll just keep pushing and pushing until I fall. And I’ll let him, because all my life, I’ve craved that wind on my face.

I WAKE up feeling warm and safe. It’s strange, like something out of a dream—only I don’t feel safe in my dreams. My eyes blink, adjusting to the darkness, focusing on the unfamiliar shadows.

This isn’t my room in Mrs. Owens’s house. It’s not a room I’ve ever had. I’ve had twenty-four bedrooms that I can remember. Some of them shared with foster siblings, some of them no bigger than a closet. This isn’t any of them.

I grow very still. There’s an arm slung over my hip. My heart begins to race. Where am I? Who the fuck is this? And since I know I’d never agree to sex with one of the creeps at the club, how did I get here?

Then I remember.

Sleep is a cold bastard, holding me underwater only to laugh when I sputter. How could I have ever forgotten, even for a second? I’m the enemy, someone to be hated and pitied. Someone to be used and fucked. Never loved. Never again.

It’s Blue’s arm slung over me in a cruel parody of protection. It’s Blue’s chest rising and falling at my back. Blue’s cock hard and hot against my thigh. He’s sleeping now, but I don’t know how long that will last.

Carefully, slowly, I slip his arm off me. I immediately feel cold without its presence, especially when I leave the shelter of his body and stand up.

He doesn’t stir.

His face is painted with shadows, darker where scruff covers his jaw, lighter where his eyes are closed. He looks peaceful this way, no longer angry. How will he feel when he wakes up to find me gone? He can’t expect me to stay. Or maybe he can. Maybe that is part of my punishment, to be near a man I’ll never have.

I put on my clothes quickly. Undressing is my job, both ritual and art form.

Dressing is simply the aftermath. It’s rolling up the mat or cleaning the brushes. Putting things away.

I give myself one last look at him, his strong body still curved around an empty space. He’s beautiful and terrifying. He’s everything I loved and everything I’ve come to hate—a man who takes what he wants. Even if what he wants is me.

In his kitchen I find a notepad with some groceries scribbled down. Milk. Peanut butter.

My heart clenches. It’s ordinary and somehow sweet.

I use a blank sheet to start a note to him. Same time next week.

I’m all the way to the door of his swanky apartment, one hand on a brushed-nickel doorknob, before I stop. One night of fucking can hardly make up for the lie I told, for what it put him through. Nothing can ever make up for it. It’s a sick penance—as sick as sending him away had been back then. Two wrongs don’t make a right.

I walk back to the counter. I tear off the note, crinkle it up, and toss it in the trash can.

Which means I need a new note. I pick up the pen and write, I’m sorry.

This time I only make it two feet away before I stop. And turn around. And throw the note away.

One last note. This one will stick.

The pen feels heavier this time as I write, We’re done here.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I’M BACK to my old self again—sexy, sultry, men eating out of the palm of my hands. I’m everything Blue accused me of, but I’m not ashamed. This is my job, and I’m damn good at it.

“So hot,” the man slurs, staring at my breasts.

I give him a secretive smile. “Want to see what else I’ve got? We can go to the VIP rooms.”

He’s already reaching for his wallet. Hook, line, and sinker.

Suddenly I see the whites of his eyes and a shadow darkens him. I whirl to see what’s spooked him. There’s Blue, looking like he’s ready to pound someone into the ground.

Me, probably.

“She’s on break,” he snaps before dragging me away by my wrist. I’m too shocked to even protest at first. It’s one thing to fuck around in private. Entirely another to interrupt work. Everyone here knows what we do. Everyone knows time is money.

“What the fuck was that?” I yank my arm away and rub my wrist.

“What the fuck was that note?” he counters.

I flush. “You got plenty out of me in one night. That ought to cover you.”

“Well, it doesn’t,” he says between gritted teeth. “You’re coming back next week.”

Anger rises up, swift and righteous. “Why?”

His voice goes soft. “Why what?”

Even the sound of the club seems to dim, like a forest quiets when a predatory is near.

We’re tucked into a corner. There’s no way everyone is seeing this, but they feel it. Unease makes my throat dry, but I force past it. There’s too much at stake. “I know what I did was…” Wrong. Terrible. “Inconvenient. But come on, you went into the military. You became a fucking war hero. And your job here is obviously lucrative, judging by your apartment. No matter what I did, your life didn’t turn out so bad.”

“Not so bad,” he says, his eyes glinting dangerously. “You threw me in a fucking ditch, gorgeous. The only reason I’m not still in it is because I clawed my way out. Want to know what I did in the six months between getting accused and enlisting?”

I don’t want to know. “Where?”

“In county lockup. The judge didn’t know where to put me. He thought I was guilty but knew the charge wouldn’t stick, so he fucked up the paperwork so bad I was basically convicted and sentenced without a trial. The public defender couldn’t do shit and didn’t care anyway.”

I shiver. I hadn’t known any of this. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He laughs, hollow and cold. “I would have preferred to get sent to prison. County lockup is a revolving door. I was stuck in a cell with a different fucker every night, most of them drunk, all of them violent, sleeping with my back to the wall and a sharp plastic knife in my hand. Still think I had it good, gorgeous?”

Tears are in my eyes, imagining him like that. The hard man he is now would make any man think twice. But for all that he’d been tough back then, for all that he’d already killed someone, he was still just a boy then. And he’d been thrown to the wolves.

I’d thrown him to the wolves.

“The honorable judge made a deal with me that he’d let me go if I enlisted. I signed the army paperwork while I was still in a cell. And when I got overseas, it wasn’t much better. I got to huddle in a tent and walk around the fucking desert and hope I wasn’t stepping on an IED. When other soldiers got care packages and naked selfies from home, I had nothing. Nothing but the thought of how I’d make you pay.”

“I can’t.” My hands are tight fists. I want to fight every person who ever hurt him. I want to fight him. I want to take on the world, but I’m helpless—just like I’ve always been. I can put on lipstick and heels, but I can’t change that one painful fact.

“One week,” he says flatly. “I want you under me again in one week. I’m going to get what I’m due if I have to drag you there with my bare fucking hands. Don’t cross me, gorgeous. I’ve been waiting too long to be denied.”

IT’S BEEN three days since Blue confronted me in the Grand. He’s been ignoring me ever since.

If you don’t count the way his gaze follows me everywhere.

It’s a relief to be out of the club, to be free of his intensity and his desire. It’s also strangely a disappointment, almost as if I miss him. That can’t be true. I can’t miss the way he hurts and humiliates me. I can’t miss the way he hates me.

I walk home from the grocery store, both hands full. I speed up along the cracked sidewalk as plastic presses into my fingers, cutting off circulation. My fingertips are already red, but I don’t like leaving Mrs. Owens alone for too long. Especially when I’m not working.

My next shift is tonight, in about two hours. I’m hoping I can give her dinner and put her to bed, as long as she doesn’t wonder too much about why it’s still bright outside. That way I can dance without worrying about her.

I manage to turn the doorknob with my hands full and shoulder my way inside. I’m busy dropping the grocery bags—gently, slowly, there are eggs inside. So I don’t see someone else at the dining table until he speaks.

“Hi, Hannah.”

I stumble, almost tripping over the bags. “Blue? What the hell are you—”

The question dies in my throat as I see Mrs. Owens, her face flushed and smiling, a light in her eyes that’s becoming more and more rare.

“I didn’t know you had a gentleman,” she says, sounding positively charmed.

I manage not to laugh at the term. Gentleman? Hardly. I think he wants to tear me apart. He wants to fuck me, to bruise me. He definitely doesn’t want to pull the chair out for me.

She comes from a different generation, a time when chivalry wasn’t dead. And she wants the best for me. She believes the best of me. She has no way of knowing he despises me. No one could tell that from the way he smiles at me, as if he’s genuinely pleased to see me.

He stands. “Let me help with those.”

“Sit,” I snap. I have no idea why he’s here or what the hell is going on, but the last thing I need is him looking through our bags, seeing the bags of noodles and the cheap store-brand stuff. Only the tea is expensive, imported, because it’s the only thing Mrs. Owens still remembers.

“Let me pour you some,” she says, reaching for the teapot in the center of the table.

“Allow me,” Blue says.

And I watch, dumbfounded, while he lifts the delicate china pot and pours water into a teacup. I’ve walked into some warped parallel universe where big, surly, pissed-off men have tea parties in the afternoon.

“We couldn’t get the stove to work,” he says as if that explains anything.

I sit down in the chair—because I need to. My legs are giving out. Confusion and a strange emotion like tenderness presses down on me. “I unplug it,” I respond, almost absently.

“Huh.” With one blunt finger, he pushes the saucer and cup in front of me. “This works just as well. And won’t keep you up at night.”

“Here here,” Mrs. Owens says. “I’m always telling this girl not to stay up so late. Sometimes it’s the middle of the night and I can’t find her anywhere.”

My gaze snaps to Blue. His expression doesn’t change, but I feel his awareness. Of course Mrs. Owens doesn’t know what I do for money. She doesn’t even know I pay the bills—or that we have bills. Most of the time she doesn’t know anything that doesn’t relate to her tea.

And apparently she does look for me at night. My heart clenches.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, taking a sip of water. “I thought you would be sleeping.”

She waves her hand. “I’m sure I do plenty of that too. And then sometimes I’m sitting there in the middle of the day, thinking, how am I going to make tea? The stove never works. So I go and look for you, and you’re sleeping. At two o’clock in the afternoon.” She looks at Blue. “What do you think of that?”

Blue’s expression is serious. “I think she must work too hard.”

That seems to please Mrs. Owens. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, forbidden pleasure and regret rolled into one. “You can wake me up anytime, Mrs. Owens. I’ll make you tea whenever you want.”

“Of course I’m not going to wake you up. You need your sleep. If I could only figure out that darned stove.”

I bite my lip, on the verge of tears. I don’t want to cry in front of her. And I sure as hell don’t want to cry in front of him.

“Excuse me,” I manage before shoving away from the table.

I leave the groceries on the floor of the kitchen, waiting to be unpacked. I leave the teacups filled with water. I leave the strange man at the table, both hateful and kind, a symbol of everything bad about me—and a beacon of hope all at once.

The hallway is a blur, and I almost run into the wall. Hot tears sting my eyes.

I push into the small bathroom and shut the door, leaving the light off.

There’s only a second of peace before I hear footsteps.

He doesn’t call my name. He doesn’t even knock. He simply comes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, locking us inside.

“Why are you—”

I don’t have a chance to finish my question. Why are you here? Why are you being nice to Mrs. Owens?

Why are you being nice to me?

Before I can get the words out, his mouth is on mine, his hands are in my hair. He’s breathing me in, sliding his tongue against mine. I let out a shocked breath before my body betrays me—returning the kiss with the same ferocity, the same hunger. It feels almost like an apology, this visit, this kindness. This kiss. Like he’s sorry he was cruel to me, but he’s not planning to stop.

“This is why you dance,” he breathes against my lips.

It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. I pant against the wall, waiting for him to make me strip, make me touch him, make me get on my knees and suck him off. That’s the only reason to be in a dark bathroom with the door closed. That’s the only reason he’d follow me here, the only reason he’d be in this house at all.

He runs his hands over my shoulders, my arms. My breasts. The touch is sexual and possessive but also sweet, as if he’s assuring himself that I’m all there. That I’m all right.

That he didn’t hurt me too bad.

“Wednesday night,” he says gruffly. Then he’s gone. From the bathroom. From the house. Gone from Mrs. Owens’s memory just minutes later.

Leaving only an empty teacup to prove he was ever there.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE SAME DOORMAN greets me at the shiny apartment building. There’s no sneer in his smile, no coldness in his eyes. I see a lot of men, most of them with wads of cash in their pockets. It’s strange to see one with any amount of respect.

He must think I’m Blue’s girlfriend.

My stomach twists, fast and hard. It’s a mix of embarrassment and guilt and a hope that will not die. There’s a part of me that wishes that were true. The doorman doesn’t know that Blue would never date me. He wouldn’t even be seen fraternizing with me at the club. The only reason he lets me come to his place is because it’s more convenient for him to fuck me here.

The elevator ride feels way too short. Before I can breathe again, I’m standing in front of his apartment door. It doesn’t open on its own this time. He’s not there to push me away and drag me back. It’s only me standing there, only me deciding to knock. Only me waiting for his footsteps with dread and anticipation.

He’s wearing a T-shirt again, well-worn and snug around his chest. He’s got jeans and no shoes—perfectly comfortable at home. There’s something deceptively casual about what he wears and the way he holds himself, so distinctly different than the hard, intimidating front he has as head of security of the club. And yet I know this man is more dangerous to me, more willing to hurt me in ways he wouldn’t at the Grand, more pleased to see the results of his work.

Dark eyes scan me from the blue eyelet blouse to the white skirt with bold-colored flowers.

No surprise shows at all. “You look gorgeous,” he says in that same conversational way he’d tell me nice set or be careful out there. The same voice that means he thinks the opposite.

“I didn’t have time to change.” I don’t tell him where I’m coming from, that I just spent four hours on a cramped plastic seat while Mrs. Owens gets dialysis. There are places that’ll come to your home and nurses that work around the clock, but stripping doesn’t pay for any of that. It just keeps us warm and dry and fed.

My life isn’t about luxury. It’s about survival.

He stands back, leaving the door wide open. “You hungry?”

My stomach chooses that moment to grumble. “No,” I lie.

He raises one eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as I walk past him.

The dining table is set for two. I freeze, staring. Uncomprehending. Actually I’m starving. The last thing I ate was a package of roasted peanuts from the vending machine at the dialysis place. Mrs. Owens doesn’t like to eat after she’s had it done, so I settled her into her bed at home and came directly here. The idea of eating sounds amazing. The idea of eating with Blue, that he would have set up some kind of meal for me, that he would have planned this, feels like a dream.

I whirl on him. “What is this?”

His expression is unreadable. “Dinner. If you want it.”

“Is this some kind of date?”

“Does it look like a date?”

I look again at the place settings for two, the low candles in between. My mind rejects that, like an optical illusion that you can’t stop seeing. “It does, but I know that’s crazy.”

There’s a pause where he seems to weigh how much to tell me. I don’t know whether he decides to tell me a lot or a little, but when he answers, his voice is grim. “It’s just food. Something to keep up your strength because you’re probably going to need it.”

There’s the Blue I know and fear. Of course you don’t need candles to eat. “Is that all?”

“What else would there be, Lola?” His lids are lowered, his mouth set in a flat line. The displeasure on his face makes it clear how dumb my idea about a date would have been.

“Nothing,” I say, feeling sullen and hurt even though I know he’s right. He never promised me anything. Actually he did promise me things. He promised to get me back. And that’s what he’s doing. The disappointment shouldn’t feel like acid on my wounds.

“Then get in the fucking chair.” He nods to the far end, where I guess I’m supposed to sit. And be served food? His expression turns hard. “And take that fucking top off. I want to look at your tits while I eat.”

HE MADE lasagna and warm breadsticks. He pours me wine. It’s the most romantic thing anyone has done for me. And through it all, my bare breasts make it painfully clear that this is not a date. This is not because he likes me and wants to please me.

This is for him—either to fulfill some fantasy of his or simply to humiliate me.

Maybe to him, those are the same things.

“How do you know Mrs. Owens?” he asks.

My gaze snaps to him. I don’t like him asking about her. I don’t like him even knowing about her. She’s personal. Far more personal than my breasts, which men see all the time. Hell, he sees them all the time, even if it’s only part of his job. “How do you know her name?”

One large shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “Simple to find out.”

“So you were snooping.” I can’t help but make a face. Emotion is showing weakness, and he is my kryptonite. “If a guy at the club did that, you would kick them out.”

Amusement flickers across his face. “Guess that’s a benefit of being in charge.”

My eyes narrow. “Speaking of that, why did you decide to work at the Grand? You knew I was working there.”

“Had to do something after I left the army.” His expression hardens. “I imagine it’s for much the same reasons that you work there.”

I snort, looking at the crown molding and modern chandelier above us. He was obviously doing very well, not counting pennies to make the mortgage. Strippers made a lot but supporting even a small house and medical bills was expensive. “I doubt that.”

Something shifts in the room, and in him—an alertness that’s too subtle to see. Only feel. “She’s not your mother.”

Foster kids learn not to share much about their pasts with whatever new foster brother or sister is around. It makes you vulnerable to people who have their own issues and may very well lash out. Besides, you’ll most likely get shuffled around soon.

I was pretty much the same, except with him. I told him how my mother had died, the way she’d braided my hair and let me play at her makeup table. I told him how my father had been in a motorcycle gang and gotten himself thrown in prison. So when she killed herself, I entered the system. There was one important detail I hadn’t told him.

“My mother was a stripper.”

Shock reflects in his eyes for seconds, so swift I wonder if it was even real. For half a second it looked like he cared. I expect him to ask if that’s why I strip, even though the answer must be obvious. So maybe he’ll just mock me for it, a verbal version of humiliation to match the nakedness of my breasts. I’m flushing, my neck and chest pink from embarrassment of what I’ve already admitted.

It’s not much of a legacy she left me. It’s all I have.

Instead he prompts, “So Mrs. Owens?”

He’s like a dog with a bone. And well, I’m the bone. “One of my foster moms.”

That alertness again. “After?”

After he left, he means. After I sent him away. After I lied. “Before. I would have stayed there longer, but she was already old. I was the last foster she had. They removed me after her official diagnosis.”

“Kidney disease?”

My hands clench. He’s done more than a little snooping if he knows about that. “Dementia was the main problem. She’d forget to go to the store, forget to meet my caseworker.”

So they’d removed me from the home, but no one had thought to help her. It was a wonder she’d survived as long as she had before I’d turned eighteen and found her. Though the heat had been turned off and rats had made nests. I’d gotten the biggest paying job I could find—at the Grand—and moved in to help her ever since.

She may not have been very capable by the end, but she’d genuinely cared about me. Don’t let them get you down, she’d tell me when I came home with bruises on my arms and a split lip. They can never touch you on the inside.

She didn’t know I sought out boys like that, ones tough enough to protect me. Even if that protection was just a twisted form of ownership. A dog with a bone—like Blue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft enough to be sincere. His eyes hard enough to make me shiver.

“She’s doing fine.” Despite what the doctors say. “She’s stronger than they think.”

Those cold eyes soften by a small degree. “So are you.”

It’s strange to be talking about any of this while I’m naked from the waist up, while he can see my breasts—even if he’s mostly been looking directly into my eyes, as if he can see deep inside, as if he’s uncovering my secrets brick by brick. Even after all the time I’ve spent naked, being exposed, I’m still not comfortable this way.

“They always think I’m strong,” I tell him, lumping him in with every client, every man. “I’m not like Honey was, or even Candy now. Men come to me because they know they can be rough with me and I won’t break.”

The words hang in the air between us, a challenge I didn’t mean to make.

His lids lower. “No, you won’t.”

My breath catches at the promise in his voice. Mine comes out as a whisper. “I’m doing everything you ask me to.”

Sometimes I don’t know why I’m doing that, but the fact is that I am. And this is a form of asking for mercy, of placing myself in his keeping.

His gaze flickers to my breasts. “Yes, I think you’ve been very obedient. You’ve been sweet, even. That’s what I thought about you all those years ago. Did you know that?” He laughs. “That you were sweet.”

A current of shame runs over my skin, making goose bumps appear over the hills of my breasts, turning my nipples into tight buds. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough.” His eyes are ice now, a dark lake solid all the way down. “You’re doing everything I say? Then get on the table. We’re done eating. It’s time for dessert.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THERE’S no room on the table. That’s the excuse I tell myself as I stand very still, staring at the plates and the candles and the strips of dark wood where he wants me to sit.

“Go on,” he says, the spider to the fly.

My stripper persona has deserted me now. Lola is nowhere to be found. I’m almost Hannah now. I don’t know how he’s stripped me down this quickly. A little kindness, a faux date, and suddenly I’m reduced to the girl who’s scared and naked and turned on when she shouldn’t be.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“Do you need me to help?” he asks almost gently.

It’s his hands I focus on, the way they clasp the back of his chair, how large and strong they are. Something about them makes me feel secure, even knowing how much they can hurt me. Even knowing how much they will.

A jerk of my head. Yes.

I need his help with so much more than this task. I need him to forgive me, to redeem me. I need him to hurt me at the same time as I fear it. That’s why I’m here—as much for me as for him. I shake with wanting it, with needing him, with longing for release.

I watch his hands clear the table, steady and competent. Gentle enough on fine china not to break it. Hard as iron when he turns them into fists. He even takes a dish towel and runs it over the wood, leaving a shine in its place.

“How do you want me?” I ask.

“On your back.”

My throat feels tight when I swallow. On my back is how he wants me. It’s the only way he wants me. So why shouldn’t I give it to him? Why shouldn’t I be what he wants? It feels good, even twisted and perverted and wrong.

I push the skirt down my waist. My panties follow.

Lola would have a sexy striptease. Hannah can only shove them rough and fast, keeping her eyes averted from his. He’s seen all of Lola’s moves anyway. He’s never seen this.

I stumble and almost fall onto the table. He doesn’t catch me. Just watches, arms folded, muscles straining at his T-shirt, jaw set in hard square lines. Then I’m awkwardly sitting on the table, legs dangling off, feet not touching the ground. Small like a child.

The only sign that I’m not is the bulge in his pants.

He steps close and runs his hands along the outsides of my thighs, so light my skin pebbles. “Lie back,” he says softly.

And I do.

The table is cool against my back, smooth and hard. His hands are hot on my thighs as he spreads them wide. Air rushes over my tender flesh, making my private muscles clench. A small sound of protest escapes me. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he says, his large hands smoothing over my inner thighs. “This part isn’t going to hurt.”

His eyes hold a promise, and I know what he means to do. Heat pulses in my clit, anticipating what’s to come. At the same time, I’m afraid. Being pleasured by him is almost scarier than being hurt, like the dinner and candles in the form of sex. Being licked by him might damn near kill me.

He doesn’t lick me—not at first. His head dips low, just his warm breath kissing my skin. I try to hold myself still, to let him direct me. I don’t want to be eager, not for the pleasure I don’t deserve. Not for the pleasure that will only draw me closer to him, bind me harder. But my body shakes, almost vibrates with tension and arousal, like a tuning fork humming his song.

“Blue,” I whisper.

“Gorgeous?”

The word makes my breath catch. I know it’s only skin-deep. He doesn’t think I’m gorgeous on the inside. No one thinks that. No one cares. Even so, this is different than before. Not as hateful. More like I imagined regular sex would be, if I had ever let myself have it.

“I’m afraid.” The admission is about more than oral sex, and he seems to know that. His lids are low, eyes a million years wise.

“No one’s ever licked you here?” He doesn’t give me time to answer before he shows me exactly where, a long and slow lick from the base of my slit to the very top.

Heat courses through me, and I stifle the groan I would have made. “No.”

“Or sucked your pretty little clit?” he asks.

And just like before, he shows me exactly what he means, his lips warm against my most sensitive skin, his suck hard enough to bring my hips off the table.

“God.”

His voice has gone low and husky, thick with something like hunger. “No one’s ever fucked you with their tongue? No one’s tasted your cream?”

My inner muscles clench at his words, already anticipating, already pulsing and slick with cream for him to taste. His eyes close as he shoves his tongue against me, as if he’s doing something incredibly pleasurable, as if he’s getting off as much as me.

His tongue feels foreign and impossibly good, my whole body suspended between ache and orgasm. Between pain and what comes after, the precipice razor thin.

“Why?” The question slips out, more admission than wonder. “Why are you making me feel good?”

This is supposed to be punishment. If it’s not about hurting me—then what?

He doesn’t answer right away. I think he won’t answer at all. His mouth is open, kissing and licking and sucking me, languid and slow. Only when I’m shuddering on the brink does he pull back. “I never stopped wanting you. I fucking dreamed about tasting you. Even when I was overseas, when it had been years since I’d seen you, when I fucking hated you, I still wanted to lick your clit until you came, until you poured your cream on my tongue.”

The admission shouldn’t surprise me. Isn’t that what Candy has been telling me? And maybe I always knew. It wasn’t an accident that he ended up at the Grand. He came to make me pay, and there was only one way to do it. I always recognized the lust in his eyes, even though it made me feel different than every other man. More afraid, more helpless. More strangely hopeful.

It isn’t his desire that surprises me, though. It’s the fact that he admitted it, that he made himself open and vulnerable. The way he almost humbles himself as he focuses on my clit, sucking and licking until I’m moaning, as he shoves his fingers inside and curls, as he seeks my pleasure with every part of his body.

My orgasm slams into me like a tidal wave, powerful and devastating. I rock through the spasms, crying out his name. And he answers me with soothing touches, soft sounds while I collapse on his dining table, spent and utterly limp.

In the Grand I’m always active, always working, always dancing and twirling and shaking my ass. At the club I’m a sex object, something plastic—like a dancer in a jewelry box made to dance whenever it’s opened.

Blue turns everything upside down. He doesn’t make me dance. Doesn’t let me do anything. He turns me into a woman again, one who’s hurt and betrayed him, one who’s been hurt and betrayed. This is the last thing I wanted—to feel again. Physical pain I accepted, almost craved. What he does to me is deeper than that. He roots out every old wound I have. And the salt is the tender way he kisses my mound, an intimacy that has everything and nothing to do with sex.

I WAKE up in the dark, warm and naked and alone. Satin sheets enfold me, still cool against hot skin. Sleep swirls around me, threatening to drag me under again. It’s too comfortable here, as if I were tucked in. Except that would be a dream. No one has ever tucked me in. Until now. That’s the only way I could have gotten here, carried by the man who’s still here.

There’s another presence in the room. Enough nights spent hiding in the closet have taught me to tell when I’m alone or not, have taught me to measure a threat in the feel of the air.

I don’t feel threatened, but it’s not a surprise to look sideways and see Blue there.

The way he’s sitting, though—that’s a surprise. He’s shirtless, his broad back curving as he rests his elbows on his thighs. His head rests in his hands. He looks defeated. It’s the pose of a man vanquished, and I ache to see him that way.

“What’s wrong?” The question pours out of me without thought, like water rushing to fill a void.

His awareness of me fills the air. I think he stiffens slightly, the broad muscles of his back shifting beneath shadow-dark skin. He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t respond.

I push up and throw the covers off. Nakedness doesn’t bother me. The way he looks bothers me. A man bent too far.

Broken.

He doesn’t move as I approach him from around the bed. He doesn’t even look up.

Every time I’ve stripped for him in this apartment, I’ve been rushed and afraid. The opposite of how I am in the club—confident and sensual. Here in the dark, I find a new way to dance. It’s not quite Lola, the seductress. And it’s definitely not the scared Hannah from before. It’s someone new that slides my hands down my body, moving for him, touching myself.

I know what moves he likes from watching him at the club. From watching him watch me.

I cup my breasts and plump them like an offering. His head lifts only enough to watch me through hooded eyes, the angles and shadows of his face severe. I take my nipples between thumb and forefingers, pinching until it hurts, twisting until it feels good again.

“What you do to me,” he mutters, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment.

Even so, pleasure fills me. I know exactly what I do to him—but even if I didn’t before, I hear it now in the lust-filled husky voice. I see it in the bulge of his loose-fitting sweatpants.

I turn to give him a view from behind, dropping low and working my way back up so he can see the darker skin between my legs. When I turn back to meet his eyes, he still looks haunted. Maybe more so. I’m turning him on, but it’s not enough to chase away whatever demons found him tonight.

The carpet is plush on my knees, so much more forgiving than the concrete in the VIP rooms.

I half expect him to push me away when I kneel. This isn’t on his terms anymore. It’s on mine. He lets me run my hands down his body, over the ridges of his abs and the hollow spaces pointing down. His cock flexes at my touch, and I push the loose band down to free him.

Only when his cock is in my hands, bared and dripping wet, does he speak again. “I thought I could fuck you and not feel anything again. I thought I could have you and forget you. But that was impossible from the start. I’ve never been able to forget you. And you make me feel everything, Lola. You make me feel alive.”

A soft sound escapes me before I silence it on his cock. My lips press against the head, half kiss, half caress. His whole body jerks, and I grasp his erection in my fist.

“That’s right, gorgeous,” he groans, cupping my head in his large hands, guiding me. “Make me yours.”

I obey him, and this doesn’t feel like a punishment. It feels like praise, like pleasure, especially when Blue shudders as if helpless. I pull back long enough to coax him, letting him hear the hoarseness of my voice, made raw from sucking him deep. “Come down my throat,” I tell him. It’s an offer and a plea.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” He doesn’t come right away. He lets me work him, holding him out. His cock is slick from my mouth and throbbing with every firm, knowing stroke.

His voice is rough and urgent in the dark, surrounding me. “Take me, baby. Fucking take me. I can’t let you go after this. I can’t let you go at all. You know that, don’t you? You’re mine now. Learn the taste of me, the feel of me, because this is the only cock that’s going to be in your mouth. I’m the only man you’re going to fuck.”

I shouldn’t feel turned on by that, by the possession and the crudeness, but I am. I squeeze my legs together to ease the ache between them.

“Touch yourself,” he urges, more breathless. He’s so close, and I can taste salty precum on my tongue.

No. I can’t get off like this. The words are useless with my mouth full of his cock. And they’re a lie anyway. When I shove my hands into my folds, I find them wet. A few slick rubs and my clit pulses with need.

I rock my hips, grinding my pussy against my hand. He takes over the blowjob, holding my head steady while he gently, inexorably fucks my face. I relax my throat and let him invade me, let him use me while I use him right back, fingers rubbing hard, juices spilling over my hand.

His come is a shot of salt against the back of my throat, surprising and so damn hot I come a second later. He keeps thrusting, using my tongue to drag out his orgasm while I fuck my hands to do the same.

When he’s done, he pulls away carefully, his hand tight in my hair.

It’s the same dark eyes that look down at me, the same severe expression. But there’s no anger in his voice this time, not even a threat. Only surety and a hint of sadness when he says, “You’re mine now, Lola. For better or for fucking worse. You sent me away all those years ago, but there’s nothing you can do to me now.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHEN I WAKE up the next time, sunlight streams through the window, lighting the heavy arm draped over me. His breaths are even and steady against my cheek. His leg is slung over mine, pinning me down. It feels both suffocating and sweet, like the tight hug of quicksand.

My body tenses without meaning to. I don’t have time to prepare. There’s no makeup or stilettos to shield me here.

He makes a sleepy snorting sound that’s endearing. His hand brushes over my body and cups my breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay,” he mumbles.

I don’t know if he’s fully awake, if he knows what he’s asking.

The answer is no.

My breathing becomes shallow as I prepare for some kind of maneuver to slip away. I don’t mind him touching me. I don’t mind him fucking me. But I mind very much the possessive shit he said last night. I mind him thinking he has some kind of claim over me. What we’re doing is an apology, a nostalgic trip down fucked-up lane. It’s not real. And it’s sure as hell not forever.

I only get as far as the edge of the bed before he grabs my wrist and hauls me back. My legs splay awkwardly, the opposite of sexy. I freeze as his hand finds my thigh. Calloused hands smooth up the inside of my leg, heading for my sex.

He finds me wet.

His groan is pure approval. “Every morning,” he says, fingers slipping inside.

The words are like ice to the heart. I jolt up from the bed, hopping and fighting to get away from him.

He blinks, his eyes still cloudy with sleep. “What the fuck?”

“I have to go,” I say, stumbling over to a pile of clothes on the floor. “I have to…have to leave.”

By the time I have my skirt on, he’s sitting up. He doesn’t leave the bed, but I don’t underestimate him for a second. If he wants me to stay, he’ll make me stay. He could be out of bed in two seconds flat. His hand would be on the door, blocking me in, just three seconds after that.

There’s no sleep left when he narrows his eyes. Only intense focus. “Want to tell me why?”

I’ve gotten hundreds of proposals.

It’s a professional hazard, common enough if I’m doing my job well. The thing people don’t know is how real the proposals seem, how earnest they can be when a man is horny and desperate and sad.

And none of them have meant a single thing, not nearly as much as those two words.

Every morning.

He comes to me like it’s inevitable that he’ll have me. He presses his forehead to my chest like I can stave off the world. The nakedness, the money—they wrap us in a cocoon that’s strangely meaningful. At least for two minutes in time. I’m used to being promised more than I’ll ever get, which is a fat tip if I’m lucky. I don’t want any more than that. I can’t have any more than that.

“Mrs. Owens needs me. Needs someone,” I say, stumbling over the explanation. Technically it’s true, but it’s not why I’m running. Judging from the way his eyes narrow, he knows that. “If I’m not there when she wakes up, she worries about me.”

“All right,” he says slowly. “Give me a second to throw on some clothes, and I’ll come with you.”

I take a step back. “Why?”

He stands up. “To spend time with you.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal. I said I’d come here, said I’d fuck you. That’s all.”

He shrugs, completely undisturbed. “Then fuck me there.”

“In front of Mrs. Owens?”

He grunts. “You don’t have your own room?”

“That’s not the point. I live there to take care of her. Not to bring customers back to her house.”

It’s like waving a red cloth, watching a bull’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He charges me, backing me up against the wall before I can even protest. “I’m not a client,” he says softly, his face inches away, eyes locked in mine.

Nervousness makes my breath come in pants. I wish I had on cherry-red lipstick and a tight skirt. I wish I were Lola, able to seduce and to manipulate. I wish I were anyone but me. “You can’t come over,” I whisper.

His jaw clenches, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “I meant what I said last night. You want to be Lola, I’ll call you that. You want to strip at the Grand. I’ll put up with that too, if it fucking kills me. But you’re mine. That pussy, that mouth. Every inch of you.”

“This is insane. You hate me. You despise me.”

“Yes,” he says slowly, as if thinking it through, wondering. “I do hate you. I hate what you did. I hate that you take your clothes off for other men, showing them what should be mine. I hate that you’re trying to walk out of here as if I mean nothing to you, the same way you sent me away all those fucking years ago.”

I close my eyes as he leans close. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. Hit me? Bite me? He seems almost feral enough to do it. So the soft press of warmth to my eyes is a shock. His lips. He’s kissing me, one after the other. Another kiss on my nose. And lower, on my mouth.

“But I want you too, the same way I wanted you back then. Your body, your heart. The way you look after Candy. The way you take care of Mrs. Owens when you don’t have to.” His smile is half-sad, half-dark. “The way you gave yourself to me so sweetly.”

My voice is hoarse. “That was to say I’m sorry. It’s over now.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, gorgeous. You gave yourself to me because you wanted this as bad as me. It’s not ending now. It’s not ending ever. It took me five goddamn years of fucking my hand, of dreaming of you, of hating you, to find my way back. And now that I’m here, I’m not letting go.”

“It can’t work,” I say, but that’s a lie. I want it to work.

I want him to make me be with him.

“It will be hard. It kills me to see another man look at your body, your breasts. To watch you dance for him. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. All I know is that I need you.”

My breath catches in my chest. “I hurt you, Blue. I lied about you. I sent you away.”

He’s silent for a long moment, his eyes dark with pain and fury. And regret. “I held on to the anger, but I think in some way I was holding on to you. Anything was better than letting go.”

“So you’re just going to forgive me? How can you?” Especially when I haven’t forgiven myself.

“I think I already have,” he says, almost thoughtful now. “I know what things were like, how hard things were for you, moving from house to house, all the asshole foster kids fucking with you. Including me.”

“You weren’t like them,” I say, fierce.

“Wasn’t I?” he says sadly. “Every boy in that house wanted under your skirt. I wasn’t that different.”

He was completely different. “You didn’t deserve what I did to you.”

Even if I’d only done it to save him.

“I don’t want to live in the past anymore. Give me a future, Lola.”

I shove against him, but he’s immovable. A mountain. “You don’t deserve a stripper for a girlfriend. You don’t deserve a shitty job at a strip club either. You’re better than all of this.”

His eyes take on a painful light, a raw intensity that’s reflected in his voice. “That’s where you’re wrong. All this time, all these years, I’ve been nothing. Only when I’m near you am I anything at all. I don’t deserve you, but not because you’re a stripper. I don’t deserve you because of what I did to you, how I’ve treated you. But even knowing that, I can’t let you go.”

“I can’t,” I say brokenly. I can’t be with him, can’t pretend we’re okay. I can never tell him the truth about that night long ago, and that means we’ll never be together. “Please. Let me go.”

For the first time, doubt enters his eyes. He can be demanding and forceful. He can be cold. The one time he asks for something, when faced with the answer no, he doesn’t look mean. He looks at me with longing, as if I’m miles away instead of trapped by his body. As if I’m years away—because really I’m still just a scared little girl with no one to turn to.

THE SUN IS ALREADY high by the time I reach home. In broad daylight it’s clear how much I haven’t done. I can pay the taxes and the water bill, but I can’t bring the plants in the flower box back to life. I can’t turn this run-down house in a scary neighborhood into home.

For now.

Blue’s parting words echo in my head, relenting for the moment, promising so much more. I don’t know how to tell him why we can’t be together. And sometimes, when his hands are on me, when his scent is in my lungs, I don’t know myself. But then I see this house and the Grand. I remember who I am again. I’m the unwanted child and the cheap slut.

I’m everything men told me to be. All the men I’ve known except Blue.

The sidewalk has a thousand cracks, the concrete pieces slanted. It’s like there’s been a tiny apocalypse on the ground of this neighborhood, leaving only rubble. As many times as I’ve walked home, I have to watch my step. I have to choose each step carefully, gaze trained to the ground.

I see the shadow first—something swooping in. A bird overhead, that’s my first thought. Only there’s a hand on my wrist. There’s a rough voice in my ear. Then I’m tripping, falling, landing in the rubble where I belong.

“Little bitch thought you could ignore me?”

I gasp as a hand circles my throat. It’s hard to speak, to breathe, but I force out the words. “What…are you…”

“Then you sent your guard dog after me.”

He drags me along the sidewalk. My feet kick against broken rock.

Attacked. I’m being attacked.

I’m in broad daylight. My gaze whips over the neighborhood, but it’s empty. The middle of the day and it’s fucking empty because everyone here is like me—working nights and sleeping days, hiding inside as much as possible. I think a curtain moves behind a window across the street, but I don’t have hope that they’ll come help.

I don’t even know if they’ll call the police. Cops are crooked enough to bring their own kind of trouble, and the people here know that.

Which means I’m on my own.

I land against the slatted wood panel on the side of the house. The world is spinning, but I push up, ready to fight. One look behind me and my eyes go wide. “You?”

It’s the client from the club, the one who hurt me. The one who waited for me.

And apparently followed me home.

Travis’s eye is swollen, and his lip is split. Then you sent your guard dog after me. Who did that to him? But I already know the answer. It’s Blue.

I clench my hands into fists. Blue is taller than me, heavier. Stronger. He could beat up this man and not have to worry. I’ve never had that luxury. I’ve only ever had my tits and my ass and the clench of my pussy to win them over.

Judging by the look on Travis’s face, he’s not looking for a lap dance.

He sneers. “You think you’re too good for me?”

I swallow, mind racing. How the hell am I going to get out of this? I’m not, though. I’m not getting out of it this time, just like I didn’t that night long ago. “No,” I say, voice low and trembling.

Good. Let him think I’m afraid.

Doesn’t matter if it’s the truth. He’ll underestimate me, and I need every advantage I can get. I may not get out of this, but I’ll go down fighting.

“Think you’re too good to suck my dick, but you’ll spread your legs for that fucker?”

I flinch at the mention of Blue, the realization that he could be in trouble. Because of me. Fucking history, always repeating. If Travis told on Blue to the police, that could cause trouble. If not with the cops, then definitely with Ivan. It doesn’t look great if the head of security gets arrested. Ivan may get involved with some shady stuff, but the Grand has always been by the book.

Maybe that would be the best, if Blue got fired. This kind of neighborhood, this crazy man? Blue shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. And I know now that he’s here because of me. He came back for me.

My voice trembles. “I’ll make it up to you.”

His smile is cruel. “I know you will, sweetheart. I fucking know.”

Five years later and I’m back in the same place, under the thumb of another man. Five years later and I’d still do anything to keep Blue safe.

The same fucking place.

“On your knees,” he says.

Oh God, I can’t do this.

I have to do this.

It’s an impossible choice, a war against myself. I hate how familiar it is, like a well-worn sweater. This is who I am—and this is why Blue and I could never have been together.

Slowly, painfully, gracefully, I sink to my knees. My lips move into a pout. “Whatever you want.”

I can be Lola for him, in a way I never could for Blue. She was made for this.

The blow to my face isn’t a surprise. He doesn’t want to get off. He wants to hurt me. He wants to humiliate me. I land on my hands. Pebbles and old metal cut into my palms. My cheek is burning with the pain of impact.

“Look at me,” he demands, and I do.

It’s seductive and angry, sensual and fucking depraved. “You’re a pig,” I tell him, because that’s part of the game.

He laughs, his yellow teeth shining in the sunlight. It’s twisted, being attacked in the middle of the day. Twisted and just right for a woman who makes her living at night. “Yeah, I’m a pig who’s going to come down your throat, so what does that make you?”

The same thing I’ve always been—a whore. A fuck doll. I’m nothing at all.

So why did Blue want me? It hurts that he might want me, as if he doesn’t know who I am. Imagining the shock and disappointment he might feel when he finds out.

“Is this how you give it to that fucker?” he asks. “Out back when you’re on break?”

Something inside me turns to ice. This isn’t how Blue treats me. He’s rough and hard and even mean, but he’s never made me suck him off while I’m on break. He could have. I would have let him.

Or he could have made me, by pushing me down, by punching me. By forcing me, like this man.

Except I’m not going to let him.

“No,” I say. “I give it to him at his apartment, in his bed. Like we’re a goddamn couple.”

That makes him laugh again. He thinks it’s part of the game. He doesn’t realize I’m done. All my life I’ve chosen survival over dignity. I’d let a man fuck me if it meant staying safe.

Being fucked by those men wasn’t safe.

Blue thinks I’m worth more than that. Even if I don’t believe him, if I can’t believe him, I don’t want to disappoint him this time.

I stand up to move away. Surprise registers in his eyes for a brief second before anger resurfaces. His fist comes at me hard, and even though I move to block him, it’s no match. He punches me in the jaw, and I stagger back, hitting the wall.

“On your knees,” he says again, louder.

I think about that person across the street, peeking through their window. Are they still watching? How far would it go before they came to help? I think they’d wait forever. I think they’re just like me, doing anything to survive.

Not anymore. “Fuck you.”

Rage flashes across his face. That’s the only warning I have before his knee slams into my stomach. I double over, choking, gasping. I’m not going to survive this. My palms slide on loose gravel.

“That’s right,” he says, smug. “On the fucking ground where you belong.”

His spit lands on the back of my head.

Slowly, painfully, I stand up. I’m not steady, and I have to lean against the side of the house to do it, but I’m upright. Every part of me is trembling, afraid of death like I’ve always been. I don’t want to die here, but I will. I’ll do anything to fight this time. Blue gave me that, a cold kind of strength.

His face is a mask of fury. “I’ll grind you into the fucking ground,” he says, and I believe him. “Now get on your knees and open your fucking mouth.”

My chin lifts. “Put your dick in my mouth and I’ll bite it off.”

He comes toward me, and I brace myself for the final, killing blow. I don’t know if he even realizes how hard he’s being on me, how little I can take. I’ll be dead before he can fuck me, and I don’t think he’ll be happy about that. It doesn’t matter, though. This is the choice I made. This is the end.

A screech of a screen door rends the air.

The telltale thump of Mrs. Owens’s cane hits the porch. “Hannah?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I DREAM of gold that night. A dragon brings me to his lair, a shiny piece of treasure to add to his pile. I dream of fire as his anger consumes me, as he singes my skin and leaves me breathless. I dream of an awful sound—it sounds like pain, and I think it might be me.

The sheets are tangled around me, holding me tight when I wake up. I’m panting, sweating, half-mired in my dream. I push damp hair from my face and try to calm down. I remember the attack. I remember Mrs. Owens coming out and stopping it. I remember going to bed, thinking it would be just fine if tomorrow never came.

Then I realize the sound wasn’t only in my dream. It’s a real sound, something I can hear from my bed in Mrs. Owens’s house, loud and screeching.

When it registers, I bolt from the bed, tripping on the twisted sheets as I cross the room.

The burning smell reaches me first, acrid and harsh.

My blood feels like a living thing, beating to get out of my chest, pounding through my veins. It only takes seconds to reach the stove and twist the knob. To grab a dish towel and move the pot of hot water to another burner. It feels like years. I’ve aged a lifetime when the screech cuts off, leaving only ringing silence in the room.

You have to scoot between the stove and the counter to even see the plug. I stare at it, the plain black cord plugged into the skeletal socket without a cover.

Did Mrs. Owens figure out to plug it in?

Or did I forget to unplug it?

I’d have already cut the damn wire and saved us both the trouble, but there’s no microwave here. A steady diet of cheap noodles, of beans and rice, means I need to be able to cook sometimes.

She’s not in the kitchen or the dining room. I find her in the living room with her tea set already laid out. She was ready for the water to boil when she must have fallen asleep.

I can’t help the anger that comes. How long I dance, how fucking hard it is to let them touch me—even accidentally. Even when they pay extra. And all of it could come crashing down, burning down because she can’t wait until I’m awake to have tea.

The anger fades away, leaving only sadness.

Why should she have to wait? She’s a grown woman, a strong woman. She was once the only person to give a damn—besides a certain boy who’s better not named. I messed things up with him, but I won’t do that with her. She deserves the loyalty I didn’t have for him.

I wake her gently. “Mrs. Owens, it’s time for bed.”

She blinks, taking in the teacup, the little pot of sugar cubes. And the afternoon light. “It’s daytime.”

“I know, but my work schedule is strange, remember? I need to sleep during the day. And you like to take a nap.”

She does need rest, but it also helps to know she’s occupied while I’m asleep.

She looks at me, and her eyes widen. Surprise registers, and I know she doesn’t remember seeing me this afternoon with blood on my face. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “I fell down.”

Deep understanding crosses her face. She may not remember, but she knows. “Let me get the first-aid kit.”

“I took care of it.” What little I could do. “I really need to sleep now, and you do too. We can have tea when we wake up, I promise.”

Her gaze drops to the empty tea-cup in front of her. A vague smile crosses her face. “I’ve already made tea.”

It takes another ten minutes to convince her to go to bed without it. Another ten minutes where the responsibility I feel toward her—the fear that I’ll fail her—sits like an anvil on my shoulders. When I have her tucked in for a nap, the curtains drawn tight, I find my way back to the kitchen.

It still smells awful, like something died in here. I don’t know how water and metal can burn like that, like flesh. I pull out the plug and shove the wire underneath the stove so at least it’s hidden.

Something glints at me from the kitchen counter.

A watch.

I reach for it, then pull back. No, it can’t be.

It’s definitely not mine. And I know it’s not Blue’s either. He wears a sleek black digital watch. This one is gold and garish. Cheap but trying to look expensive. I don’t know whose it is or how it got on the counter. Unless…

Unless I stole it. Unless it belongs to Travis.

Oh God, I’m so, so fucked.

I sit on the floor in the dark and cry until I’m as dry and as done as the pot of water.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I SWIPE foundation over my cheek.

The swath of beige is stark against the bluish color of my skin. There’s really no hope of covering up the bruise. Even if I could change the color, I can’t hide the swelling of my eye. Or the limp when I walk.

I shouldn’t even have come to the Grand tonight, but I needed to leave the house. I needed to get the watch away from there so I can figure out what to do with it. I’ve told Mrs. Owens to stay inside no matter what she hears. She knows to lock the doors. That won’t hold him off forever. Eventually he’ll come back looking for it. Looking for me.

The watch is nestled among my perfume and makeup. I can’t bear to touch it. I hate that it’s even touching my things. Infecting me. I can’t throw it away, but I can’t give it back. I’m trapped with it.

I stare at the bruises under the harsh theater lighting around my mirror. It’s a lot worse than it looked in the dim bathroom at home. Worse than my reflection in shop windows as I walked here tonight. I look damaged. Broken.

“I have to go,” I say to no one. It doesn’t matter. I have nowhere to go.

Candy approaches from behind. She sits at her station beside me and begins applying hot-pink liner. She doesn’t stare at my bruises even though they’re obvious. She doesn’t act surprised, because she’s not.

“Did Blue do that?” she asks, still running the pencil tip along her eyelid.

“No.” Whatever happens, it’s important that people know Blue didn’t do this. I couldn’t lie about that again, not even to protect him.

“Then who?”

“Who else?” I say, bitterness creeping into my voice. A client. She’ll understand. But even if it weren’t a paying client, it would be the same. Another man, another fist.

They’re all the same except Blue.

“You can’t dance like that,” she says.

I shut my eyes and squeeze, ignoring the shot of pain. “I know.”

“You’ll have to talk to Ivan. Explain why.”

“I think the why is obvious,” I say drily, staring at my messed-up reflection. I look like a public service announcement.

“He’s going to want more information than that.”

I make a face, frustration and a little bit of fear. “He doesn’t want information. He wants me to beg.”

Candy smiles faintly. “I’m sure you can do it pretty for him. He’ll like that.”

Sure, she’s not afraid of him. She’s the only one in the goddamn city who isn’t. He’s always been fair enough to me, but I’m also careful not to cross him. I keep my head down, my tips high, and don’t cause trouble. At least until Blue showed up.

As if I’ve summoned him, he appears in my mirror, his expression severe. “Lola.”

“Bye,” Candy says, hopping off her stool with a little wave.

My eyes narrow. “Did you call him?”

She blows me a kiss. “Thank me later.”

I will definitely not be thanking her for this, but I can’t focus on her now. She’s flouncing out the door, and Blue is advancing on me like a shark scenting blood. His dark gaze takes me in from the failed makeup job to my bare feet. I’m still in street clothes—jeans and a tank top—but it feels like I’m wearing nothing the way he takes me in, like he can see every mark and ache underneath.

“Who did this to you?” he growls.

I don’t know what to tell him. All I know is that I can’t tell him the truth. I catch myself eyeing the gold watch on the vanity and force myself to look at the ground. “It’s none of your business.”

Wrong answer.

He backs me up until I’m flush against my vanity. Lip gloss and eyeshadow tumble to the concrete floor. The bulbs around the mirror illuminate his face with harsh light and stark shadows. He looks menacing—not a man to be crossed.

He’s rough and hard, but when he puts his hand on me, he’s gentle. His finger traces the bruise on my cheek, careful not to touch where I’m swollen and purple. He trails down my neck and runs his forefinger along my collarbone. When he gets to my shoulder, where my shirt covers my skin, I let out a small whimper.

His eyes darken, and he pushes my shirt aside to reveal a red abrasion. “Fuck.”

“It’s just a customer,” I say quickly, like fighting the tides. “It happens all the time to girls like me. You know that.”

“Not in my fucking club, it doesn’t happen. And not to you.” His voice is threatening, and it makes me feel somehow safe because I know he doesn’t mean this toward me. Even though he should.

It’s my fault men hurt me. It has to be my fault, because they always, always do. “It’s nothing.”

His nostrils flare. “I don’t like them touching you. I don’t even like them looking at you. But this? This isn’t nothing. This is way over the fucking line. Tell me exactly which bastard did that to you, because he’s a dead man.”

My breath catches in my throat. This is everything that happened before. This is history repeating itself. The way it ended last time broke me. And it sent him far, far away. I want to rail against the inevitable, to hold him close. That’s selfish, though. To want to keep him. If he goes away, he’ll hate me even more, but he will be safe.

“No,” I whisper.

His lids lower. He leans in close, his mouth touching my temple as he speaks low. “I will find out who did this, and I will crush the fucking breath from his throat.”

“Am I interrupting?”

The crisp voice of Ivan breaks through the haze, and Blue straightens. His gaze remains intent on me. He doesn’t jump back to break apart like I do. I’m shoved against my vanity, completely trapped by two men who have power over me. I’ve fought so hard against this, against weakness, against ownership, but here I am again.

Blue speaks through gritted teeth. “Someone hurt her.”

Ivan walks casually into the room and leans against the wall. He studies Blue. “Was it you?” he asks with deceptive mildness.

Surprise and anger flash across Blue’s face. “Fuck no.”

“No?” Ivan says, not seeming concerned at all. “You seem to have taken an interest in our pretty girl.”

“She’s not yours,” Blue growls.

Ivan’s gaze flickers over our bodies, the way Blue has me pinned. “I suppose she’s not. I’m surprised someone would touch her if she belongs to you now.”

A rough sound of fury comes from Blue’s throat. “They won’t touch her again. They won’t touch anyone again, as soon as she tells me who it is.”

That makes Ivan raise an eyebrow. He looks at me. “Who are you protecting?”

Blue. He would kill for me, die for me. He’d get himself locked up for me. He’s the only man who’s ever cared about me, and I can’t let him do that. He would put his life on the line to protect me—and I will do the same for him. I don’t do it with my fists, though. I do it with my body and my lies. I protect him with everything I have, even if it hurts him too.

“It’s no one,” I say, my voice hoarse. “A man on the street.”

Ivan cocks his head. “A stranger?”

Not a stranger. “You don’t need to get involved.”

In a sudden movement, Blue slams his hand against the wall beside me. “I’m already fucking involved, gorgeous. I’ve been involved since five years ago, and God help me, I can’t fucking stop.”

Ivan doesn’t look surprised at this admission. “Even after she accused you of raping her?”

Blue narrows his eyes. “I never hurt her.”

Ivan shrugs. “She said you did.”

“She lied.”

“Then why would you believe her now?”

Blue’s gaze snaps to me. “Is that what this is? Some kind of twisted payback? Some kind of game?”

It’s not a game, but it’s better if he believes that. It’s better if he goes far away and never comes back. I shrug, copying Ivan. “So what if it is? You know I like it rough. You couldn’t give it to me hard enough, so I found someone who would.”

I see the realization hit him like a blow, that I fucked another man after him. He pushes off the wall and stalks away from me, to the other side of the room. To the other side of the moon, for how far away he feels. He runs a hand over his head. “Fuck, Lola.”

I smile, more comfortable now as Lola. As the seductress. The whore. “I told you we didn’t have anything special. I told you I wasn’t yours. You refused to believe me. That’s not my fault.”

Ivan stands and straightens his suit sleeves. “It appears we have our answer. What she does on her own time is her business. Unless, of course, it interferes with my business.” His cool gaze meets mine. “Obviously you can’t work the floor like that. You have two days to get yourself cleaned up. Show up like that again and you lose your spot here.”

He heads for the door.

“Wait.” Blue puts a hand to his forehead. “No. This isn’t fucking right.”

Ivan stops. “She told you she wanted it. You heard her.”

Blue’s dark gaze meets mine, accusing and pain-filled and relieved all at once. “She’s lying. She’s fucking lying, just like she did before. I don’t know why, but I know I didn’t hurt her then. And I know she didn’t ask for this now.”

I make one last attempt. “Why would I protect someone else?”

Shock fills his eyes before he closes them. “You’re not protecting someone else.” He laughs without humor. “You’re not even protecting yourself.”

His eyes snap open, and he walks closer to me. I look toward Ivan, hoping he’ll stop Blue. Hoping he’ll claim that I wanted this once more, that I’m just the slut I look like. Except he’s gone, apparently leaving me to my fate. And my fate is a seriously pissed-off Blue.

“How fucking dare you?” he breathes.

“I—”

“No, not right now. I can’t even listen to your excuses right now. Your lies.” Pain flashes across his face. “All those years. I just need to—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but I can fill in the blank when he drops to his knees. He pushes down my jeans, flinching at the bruise on the outside of my thigh. He undresses me carefully, methodically, and I can’t stop him. I can’t tell him he means nothing. I can’t lie, not when he spreads my legs and looks at me bare.

He swallows, and I hear it in the silence. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, gaze trained on my pussy.

Briefly, I wonder if someone will come in and interrupt us. And then I don’t care anymore because his warm breath brushes my clit, his hands grasp my pale inner thighs. He gives me a kiss that’s sweet, almost chaste if it had landed on my forehead or nose—anywhere except my clit. But it is there, and heat courses through me, shocking and sudden and strong enough to make me gasp.

“This is the only way you’re honest with me,” he says, his eyes dark as they look up at me. “If this is what I have to do to get you to tell me the goddamn truth, then this is what I’m going to do.”

I shiver from worry, from apprehension, knowing he’s right. Knowing he’s determined enough to do it. I don’t want to lie to him anymore, but the truth might break me.

His tongue might break me, sliding down my slit, sending shocks of pleasure through my body.

He fucks me with his tongue, shoving it inside me and then back out, lewd and slick and so good I almost cry. My hips want to thrust, but I’m held up by the vanity—it’s already shaking with the force of us. All I can do is hold myself still while he teases me into madness.

Then he stops. “Why did you lie, Lola?”

I’m half-dazed with lust, confused and needy. “Please.”

“You want my mouth on you again, you’re going to tell me the fucking truth. Why did you lie to me? Who did this to you?”

It’s a relief to realize he means the present—not the past. Still it’s hard to tell him. I can’t tell him, at least not until he leans forward to give my sex an openmouthed kiss. He slides his lips over me, grazes me with his teeth, makes me rock upward to reach for him.

And stops again.

I whimper. “God, Blue, please. I can’t take this, please.”

“Then tell me what I want to know, baby. Tell me who put their hands on you.”

His voice is hypnotic, and I’m almost there. At the brink of orgasm. On the verge of breaking down. “If I tell you, you’ll hurt him.”

He doesn’t look surprised—or hurt or offended. It’s understanding that crosses his face, sympathy for me. “I know it’s hard. I know you’re afraid.”

I shudder, because it’s so rare to be known that way. Only him. He’s the only one who’s ever tried. “It’s the guy you threw out that night. The one who was…hurting me in the VIP room.”

His hands tighten on my thighs almost painfully, and I know he’s holding back violence. “We’ll look up the receipts and go through the security feed. We’ll find out who he is,” he says roughly. “He won’t touch you again, Hannah.”

I flinch but don’t correct him. Changing my name won’t help me here. This isn’t a stage. “And then what? You’ll go after him. You’ll hurt him. You’ll…kill him. This isn’t some underground fighting ring.”

“No, this is fucking real.”

He already beat up Travis for touching me. What will he do when he finds out he attacked me at my home? “And then you’ll go to jail. How does that help anyone?”

His expression is dark. “I’m not your father.”

“Why, Blue? Because you don’t get caught? Is that what makes you different?”

He shakes his head. “And you’re definitely not your mother. You’d never let a man bring you low.”

“You think so? I don’t know what I’d do if you went to jail, Blue. If you went to jail for me. I don’t think I’d be able to survive it.”

His expression is intent—and wondering. “You always take what I give you.”

I can take the rough sex and cruel words. I can take him leaving. I can’t take knowing he’s in trouble because of me. I can’t take knowing he’s locked up. “Not that,” I whisper.

I half expect him to walk away from me, leaving me bared and wanting.

Instead he leans forward. This time he doesn’t stop. He licks my clit with a kind of tender ferocity, both gentle and insistent, until I’m shaking on the table and bottles rattle with the vibrations. “Blue,” I cry.

He doesn’t pause, not even for words. He just licks and licks with a firmness that will never tire—between the two of us, I’m the one who breaks first. Climax washes over me in hard, almost painful waves, and I rock my hips against him, moaning helplessly into the empty room while the heavy beat of a dance song pounds against the walls.

When he’s done making me come, he leaves.

It’s only later that I notice the gold watch is gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I DON’T SEE Blue the rest of the night. Or the next.

He has Oscar escort me home with strict orders not to come back to work. Of course I go back anyway, but Ivan has told the bouncers I’m not to work. Blue isn’t there.

I’m worried about him. Did he take the watch?

I know he did.

He turned my own weakness against me, stealing what I’ve stolen. Except I only steal in mindless, desperate moments of stress. He is methodical and stone cold. What will he do when he finds the man who owns it?

Mrs. Owens asks about the nice man who visited us. “Did you invite him over for tea?” she asks.

I don’t have the heart to tell her no, but the truth is I don’t know if I’ll see Blue again. The oral sex he gave me may very well have been goodbye. He doesn’t owe me anything. I should be happy if he doesn’t hate me anymore—that should be reward enough.

If he isn’t killing another man on my behalf, that will definitely be reward enough.

It’s Candy who finally tips me over the edge. We’re talking on the phone in the morning, her voice tired after a long night of dancing. “Don’t fall for his bullshit,” she says in warning.

“What?”

“He’s going to feed you some line about taking care of you, protecting you, et cetera.”

“He’s not feeding me any line, Candy. He’s not even speaking to me.”

“That’s just because he’s busy being all vigilante. Men have one-track minds, you know. Once he’s done with that, he’ll come for you.”

“What do you mean, vigilante? Have you heard anything?”

She snorts. “I don’t have to hear anything. No one gets to touch you. Hell, he’d probably kick my ass if we did the Double Trouble routine.”

Nerves twist my stomach. “He’s going to get himself in trouble. A guy like Travis isn’t going to take it lying down. He’ll tell the cops.”

“Blue would rather be in jail than sitting at home, knowing that the asshole who hurt you was still walking around.”

Fuck. “Well, I wouldn’t rather that. Don’t I get a say in it?”

“Not really,” Candy says more softly. “It was sweet of you to try and protect him. I understand why you did it.”

“And for nothing.”

“Not nothing. Blue knows how much you care about him. It’s like a fucking declaration of love, you being like that. He understands that. He came from the same place you did.”

Yeah, Blue did. He knows how little words mean. I love you. I care about you. They don’t mean anything. It’s actions that count—and protecting him, letting myself be hurt to keep him safe, meant the most. I was afraid for him to find out because he’d know how I felt about him. He’d use it against me.

That was what men did, use things against me. Their bodies, their words.

I expected that from Blue, but instead he just licked my clit until I came.

“I need to find him,” I say suddenly, decisively. I need to convince him that Travis doesn’t matter. I’ll move out of this neighborhood to get away from him. Somehow I’ll do that, even if I have to accept Blue’s help.

If he still wants to help me.

I have to try.

“He’s going to want you to quit,” Candy says. I can hear the pout in her voice. “Then who am I going to have to annoy at the club?”

“Umm, all the other girls? And he’s not going to want me to quit. I mean, he is, but I’m going to say no.” That is, if he’s still a free man after whatever he does to Travis.

“The other girls don’t stand up to me.”

“That’s because you’re mildly terrifying.”

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “And he’s going to convince you to quit, just watch. Men are very convincing with their dicks. It’s why I don’t let them inside me.”

I snort, thinking of Ivan. He may not have put his inside her yet, but he’s thought about it. “I’m not going to quit. I have to bills to pay.”

“I mean, obviously he will help with that. I’m all for saying no, but if you’re going to let one fuck you…”

“No, Candy. That’s not how relationships work.”

“It’s how some relationships work.”

I picture Blue with his lust and his anger, fire and ice. I remember him that last night at the club, the sweet way he kissed my clit before making me come. I don’t know how it can work while I’m stripping. I don’t know how it can work if I’m not. “All I know is that I want him. I want something real. For the first time in my life, I want something better.”

I PUSH the glass doors open and send a small wave to the doorman. I expect him to give me that genial smile and press the button so the elevators work. Instead his expression is serious as he steps out from behind the desk.

My stomach drops. Has Blue banned me from coming to his building?

“Ms. Brown?”

I almost feel like crying as I stare at the doorman who once believed I belonged. What does he think of me now? “That’s me.”

“If you have a moment, I’d like to add you to our systems.”

I blink. “What?”

“If I can take down your information, I’ll add you to the system. That way I can give you a key card and the guards on other shifts will know you’re allowed up.”

“Oh.” A question is forming, and I’m afraid to give it a voice. “Did something change? I mean, we didn’t do this before.”

And then I get the gentle smile I’ve been missing, almost fond. “Actually, Mr. Blue notified us that you’re to be given complete access to his apartment. If you’re busy now, we could do it another time.”

“No, I think…now would be best.”

Because depending on what I find upstairs, what I say—Blue may very well throw me out. And he might forget to notify security when he does. At least then I’d have a way of getting back in.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

IT TURNS out I don’t need the key card to get in. The elevator doors open on a quiet hallway, everything beige and silver and sleek. From a few yards away I see the crack in Blue’s door.

It’s open.

I slow down but keep walking. My eyes narrow as I take in the strange state of the door—and the smudge of something dark on the handle. Blood?

I’m probably overreacting. It’s probably just dirt or paint. And the door is probably propped open because he needed to carry something heavy. I can’t shake the dread in my stomach though, especially after our last conversation.

I put my palm on the door and push. It’s heavier than I expect.

The apartment looks normal enough. The furniture is in place. No horror-movie pools of blood. No body on the couch, still warm but long gone—that was how I’d found my mother. That vision has haunted me for most of my life. It still does, but now I’m moving past the empty leather couch. Now I’m searching for someone else.

The bathroom door is cracked open, yellow light streaming through.

I don’t knock or call out. The bathroom door lists open as soon as my fingers brush against it. Then I can see him—all of him. He’s standing at the sink, scrubbing his hands. There’s no paint on them, no dirt. And definitely not any blood.

The water that runs down the drain is clear.

“Blue?” I ask.

He doesn’t look up. He just keeps washing and washing his hands, running his fingers over clean skin. “What are you doing here?”

I bite my lip, unsure what to say. He must have thought I might come. That’s why he added me to the list. He must want me here.

He doesn’t seem to want me here, though. It’s a private moment I’ve walked in on.

I step into the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

After a second, he turns off the faucet. Silence rings in the small space. He sets his hands on the edge of the counter and hangs his head. He looks defeated. Broken. I didn’t do that, did I? Was he okay before he came back?

Has he ever been okay?

I want to go to him, but the lines of his shoulders are rigid. “Blue, whatever you did—”

His mouth is on mine before I can answer. It’s not a kiss, it’s a fusing of him and me—it’s rough and invasive. It hurts, and I never want him to stop. His hands sink into my hair, still wet from the sink, sending droplets onto my neck.

“What?” he asks, nipping at my lips, not letting me speak. “If I killed someone, you’ll forgive me? If I have a body in my fucking fridge, you’ll help me hide it?”

I shiver. I know he’s trying to scare me—and it’s working. I’m afraid.

Fear doesn’t control me anymore. It doesn’t define me.

“Yes,” I say softly. “That’s what I’d do. I’m on your side. Now and forever. I’ve always been on your side.”

A shudder racks him, and he presses his forehead to mine. “It’s not safe for you with me.”

And then I can’t help it. I have to touch him. I put my hands on his big shoulders, feel him vibrate with tension. It’s like touching a wild animal. There’s power and ferocity and intelligence. I could never control him. I only want to follow where he leads.

“It’s never been safe for me, Blue. Except when I’m with you.”

My words seem to unlock something within him. They unleash him. He comes at my mouth like he’s going to consume me—teeth and tongue, harsh and relentless. Strong hands lift me onto the counter, and I hold on to him for balance.

He kisses his way down my jaw and over my collarbone. He touches me all over, his hands mapping every inch. It’s a claiming, with his mouth as the brand and his body holding me in place.

He reaches between us, and I brace myself for his fingers. They’ll be blunt now. They’ll hurt.

Instead I hear a zipper as he opens himself up.

My dress rides up easy, and he shoves aside my panties. His cock lines up, and I tense. I know how it feels going in dry, but I don’t try to stop him. He needs this from me, and I need him to take it.

I’m slicker than I thought. He slides in quick, but it still stretches me out.

My mouth opens on a gasp, and he takes the opportunity to kiss me hard. He fucks me from both sides, his tongue thrusting, his cock deep inside. He doesn’t relent until I’m fighting him, struggling for breath and for relief, the ache in my sex so strong I’m clenching around him, milking him while he moans into my mouth.

He speeds up fast enough that I can’t keep up, I can only stay open to him, battered by him, shoved over the edge by him. It’s like falling, and he’s the only thing holding me up. Only his cock keeps me grounded while I climax around it, breaking into pieces, coming back together in his arms.

HE PUTS me in the shower—literally strips me down completely and lifts me into the shower. I’m not a doll, because he checks the temperature before pushing me gently under the spray. I’m not a child, because he washes me slowly, sensually, lingering on my breasts and between my thighs.

My legs shake as he plays with my folds, fingers slick with water and soap and arousal.

He holds me against him, my back to his chest, supporting me. I’m not standing anymore, not holding on to the walls of the shower. There’s only his arms holding me up, his fingers inside me. There’s only the low murmur of his voice in my ear, reassuring me, soothing me. “Let go, gorgeous. Let go.”

I think he means more than this shower, more than my body.

He wants me to let go of everything I’ve been fighting to keep—control and security. This wall I’ve been building around myself, each brick made from scarlet lipstick or high heels, paved with a fuck-me smile. It’s the only way I know how to be safe.

Even that it’s never actually made me safe.

Safety is a dream, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. If I smile enough and dance enough and take off my clothes enough, maybe one day I’ll reach it. Except it doesn’t exist.

I whimper, and Blue murmurs to me, “Shhh.”

My eyes fall shut, letting him pull me from the shower, trusting him completely as he guides me onto a plush mat. He dries my body with a towel, lifting my arms and kneeling at my feet. It’s a form of service, what he’s doing, the way he’s caring for me—an apology and promise all at once.

“I know you’ve been worried about me,” he says, breath warm against my temple. “I know you’ve been protecting me all this time. Let me protect you.”

The words strip me bare.

When you really think about protection, what it means, it’s a cruel thing to accept. If he is my shelter in the storm, then he is the one battered by wind and lightning. He is the one taking away my pain. I’ve never wanted to let him do that.

It hurts him that I don’t let him do that.

He lifts me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck. I curl myself up in him, knowing that if any harm will come to us, it will come to him first. I let him give me what my mother never had—a man who cared more about her than himself, someone who would fight for her, someone who would stay.

His lips are soft against my forehead, a gentle kiss before he lays me down on his bed.

The sheets are white, the walls bare. I’ve been in this room before, been fucked here and used. Being cherished is almost harder to take, more foreign. More of a risk, because if I lose this now, if I lose him now, it will break me. I will be as lost as my mother, like I swore to myself I’d never be.

“Did you take the watch?” My voice sounds loud in the dark room.

He pauses in the act of getting into bed beside me, sheet raised. Then he slides in, the hair on his legs a lovely friction against mine. His arms wrap around me, underneath and above, a cocoon of cotton and man, a dark space for just us two.

I drop my voice to a whisper. “Did you kill him?”

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he says softly. “I thought about it. I’m still thinking about it.”

At this I can breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

He shifts me so I’m on his chest, and when I move my hands under my chin, it’s just like before. We’re teenagers again, and he’s whispering his secrets. I’m whispering mine.

“I don’t care about what a judge says is right or wrong,” he says. “You know that about me. You’ve always known that about me.”

“They don’t understand,” I say, but that’s a lie. Sometimes they do understand and just don’t care. Sometimes their hands are trapped just as much as ours.

And sometimes a killer is born.

A boy who needed to fight to survive. A teenager thrown into war. I don’t blame Blue for what he is. A judge can’t help him any more than one could help me. We were both cast out of society long before we thought to leave, both told we were wrong before we knew what was right.

He washes his hands even when they’re clean, because some part of that little boy is still inside.

I trace circles over his chest. The sparse hair, the sheer size of him. He’s filled out since the last time we were like this. He’s grown, and so have I—not only my breasts and my hips. I’m a woman now, and a woman chooses her own path.

Blue is my path.

His eyes are dark. “I’ve taken care of him. I can tell you how, but—”

A sound of protest escapes my throat before I can rein it in.

His smile is wry, so much like the teenager from all those years ago that my heart squeezes. “All you need to know is that he’s been invited to leave the city. I very much think he will. He doesn’t have a job or a fiancée here anymore.”

It feels like a shadow is over me, from Travis and my past. From everything I’ve done. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I fucking did. That’s what you don’t understand. It’s not a choice. You’re a compulsion for me. A goddamn obsession. Even back then, I would have clawed my way back to you except that I—”

“Except what?”

He presses his lips together, and I know he’s said more than he meant to. “Except that I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you wanted that. I fucking believed you.”

I flinch, because he’s still angry about that.

His eyebrows furrow. “No, gorgeous, not like that. I fucking believed you instead of protecting you. I let you send me away just to keep me from pounding him into the ground. I would have done it too. But I thought you wanted him. I would have done anything to make you happy. Even let him live.”

His words are harsh and primal and strangely beautiful. He cups my head in his hands and kisses me, lips devouring mine, tongue insistent.

“You’re gorgeous.” He plants kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, my mouth—and starts all over again. The word that had once been an insult has become a form of worship. “Gorgeous for protecting me. Gorgeous for sacrificing yourself. Gorgeous for forgiving me.”

I pull back. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I left you there.” He closes his eyes as if remembering. “And then I came back, like a fucking pit bull, snarling at you every chance I had. And you forgave me for that, every time, didn’t you?”

My eyes are hot with tears I can’t hold back. “It wasn’t even a question.”

“You knew.” His voice is rough. “You knew I came back for you. Even when I hated you. Even when I thought you fucking hated me. I couldn’t stay away.”

I can’t answer him, can’t do anything but return his kisses—on the slashes of his cheeks, on the plane of his forehead. On the angry line of his mouth. I don’t stop there. I kiss the stubble of his jaw and his Adam’s apple. I kiss my way down his chest, stopping only to lick a flat copper nipple. He grunts in answer, his body shifting to press his erection against my leg.

I have more kisses to give him, five years of them. One for his abs and another for the indent pointing down. One for the tip of his cock.

“Fuck.”

He’s fucked my mouth before, he’s made me suck him off, but we’ve never done this. He’s lying flat, exposed to me, his cock standing both proud and vulnerable. I take him in my fist and my mouth. I suck him deep until he’s groaning, until he’s thrusting wild and without rhythm.

Until he’s shooting into the back of my throat, fists tangled in the sheets. The tendons in his neck stand out as his whole upper body lifts off the bed. His whole body is a picture of agony, writhing and desperate. The groan he makes raises the hairs on my neck—an animal sound of defeat.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“SUGAR?”

“Please,” I say, pulling the small ceramic sugar pot from the box.

Mrs. Owens uses the tongs to add a cube of sugar to her tea and mine. Tanglewood Home has done a lot to make Mrs. Owens comfortable, but they drew the line at installing a large glass cabinet for her antique teapot sets. So I bring a complete set every time I visit.

Blue enters just as I’m taking a sip. His expression softens even though we’ve only been apart ten minutes. “They said the larger room just opened up. She can move in early next week.”

“Oh, that’s great.” I make a face. “Or maybe we shouldn’t be celebrating.”

Blue says nothing, just kisses the top of my head as he sits beside me—confirming that someone did have to die for her to get the room. It makes sense, considering where we are. It makes sense wherever we are. Death has always followed me, from the time I was too young to understand.

That hasn’t changed now that I have Blue by my side. He’s a killer and a soldier. He’s a fighter in every sense of the word. And I love him just the way he is.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. He’s really asking how Mrs. Owens is doing today.

She can hear us, but she isn’t listening. Her eyes are far away, the cup clattering against the saucer as her hands tremble. I take them from her gently and set them on the table. In a few minutes she’ll come back to us. The moments happen more frequently, but they bother me less. As long as she’s happy and comfortable, then I am too.

“I was just telling her about your new company.”

He stretches his legs and leans back on the sofa. He wraps his arm around me, the picture of a relaxed male. I’m glad he comes with me to these visits. I didn’t even have to beg—or fuck him, which was Candy’s helpful suggestion. Of course, we mostly do that every night anyway.

Sometimes mornings too.

“Think I can cut it?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. I can’t help but smile. “If you get scared, you can always come to me for help.”

He’s just digging for compliments. Only weeks after putting feelers out for security services, he had a full roster of clients. Apparently being skilled and stone-cold in the military had earned him a reputation. It turned out he hated working at the club more than I did—but he insisted on watching over me. Only when I quit did he consider leaving too.

Ivan is a little pissed to lose his head of security, but he was the first one to sign the contract with Blue Security to staff and train the bouncers at his club.

“You should,” Mrs. Owens says suddenly. “Hannah’s the strongest person I know.”

My eyes heat with tears. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

A trembling hand covers mine. “The strong ones never think they are. They’re too busy surviving.”

And I think that just might be true. It’s definitely true for Blue. He knows he’s strong physically—skilled with his fists and with guns. He made himself that way so he’d never be kicked around again.

He doesn’t always know he’s strong inside. He thinks that part of him was crushed long ago, that he’s been dead inside for five years. I know different. He was waiting—just like me.

I take his hand in mine, and for a brief moment all three of us are connected, the past and the present and hope for the future. Then Mrs. Owens smiles blandly and turns to Blue as if she’s just noticed him. “Sugar?”

“Please,” he says.

We stay and drink tea for a few more minutes and promise to return soon. I have more time to see her now that I’m studying for my GED. I hope to take some classes at the community college in the fall.

The sunshine blinds me when I step out of the building. I haven’t seen this much sunshine in years, always arriving and leaving the Grand when it was dark outside. It’s given my skin a new golden hue that Blue enjoys exploring with his tongue. And it’s given me hope.

“What are your plans for the day?” I link my arm in his as we head down the sidewalk. We’re two blocks away from his apartment. Our apartment now. “Work, work, and more work?”

I’m teasing him because he’s been flooded with interest. Which means lots of meetings with CEOs and city politicians. And that means I get to see him in a suit and tie. He fills them out beautifully but finds them stifling to wear. He’s always eager to tear it off when he gets home—and I’m happy to help.

“Some of that,” he says. “Mostly phone conferences. I wasn’t planning to go into the office today.”

“No?”

“Well, I knew we were coming here so I deferred the in-person meetings until tomorrow. And besides, I had the most important job waiting for me here.” He’s got that look on his face, a little shy, a little proud—it means he’s going to say something sweet.

“What’s that?”

We stop in front of his building, the broad expanse of glass reflecting sunlight and the clasp of our bodies. He rests his hands on my hips, bending his head so only I can hear. “Protecting you.”

I smile. “Silly, I’m already safe.”

“Are you?” He kisses a line along my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure?”

“You could check,” I say, already breathless. This is how he starts—and he doesn’t stop, not until he’s kissed every inch of me. There’s a place between my legs, pulsing, desperate for his mouth.

“I think I should,” he says with complete seriousness. “I wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of slacking on the job.”

I roll my hips forward, pressing myself against the outline of his cock. “There’s nothing slack here,” I whisper.

He groans. “Fuck, you can’t. I’ll never make it upstairs.”

Teasing a man with an erection is really the best thing. At least, it’s the best thing now that I have one man, this man, to do it with. I’m done stripping. I’m not sure where I’m going next, but I know Blue is going to be by my side.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He makes a strangled sound. “God, baby. That’s not helping me cool down.”

I laugh, a little watery.

His hands wrap around my face, thumbs brushing away my tears. “I hated you once. And needed you. And I almost died from not having you.”

“And now?”

“Now I feel all of those things. They don’t go away; they just add up until I can’t think of anything else. I don’t want to think of anything else. Lola. Hannah. You’re both of them. You’re fucking everything.”

My breath catches in my throat, and it’s a close thing that I don’t let out a sob right there on the sidewalk. He makes a rough sound and pulls me through the lobby. Only when the elevator doors close us in does he back me up against them. Only when the tears are flowing freely and his cock is hard as iron against me does he whisper, “I love you. Love you, love you.”

He hitches my legs around him, and I cling to him as he lifts me up. His cock is hot and hard against my clit, pushing and pushing and pushing in a rhythm just like fucking, so steady that even with our clothes between us I’m almost coming.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs against my neck. “Come and gush on me. I want to see you fucking wet through your panties. I want to lick them like that.”

I shudder and rock my hips against him, but it’s hard to move. He’s thrusting against me so hard, almost fucking me into the steel doors. He’d be so deep inside me if we didn’t have clothes on. Instead I feel him throbbing and insistent, the pressure hard enough to hurt.

We move faster and faster, our panting the only sounds in the elevator.

It happens all at once. He bites down on the space where my neck meets my shoulder, the sting sharp enough to make me gasp. A ding sounds as the elevator arrives at our floor. Then I’m coming, shaking, shattering around him. The doors slide open behind me, and he holds me tight, my legs still wrapped around him as he carries me down the hall and brings me home.

“TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN,” Candy says.

Her legs swing from her perch on the stage. It adds to her innocent image, along with her blonde ponytails and off-the-shoulder Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. Of course her thigh-high lace patterned stockings and panty set give her the sexy edge that makes men salivate. For now the club is closed, the lights a little brighter on the brass fixtures and damask wallpaper. You could almost forget that this was a strip club if it weren’t for the shiny pole onstage.

“You were right,” I concede. “But I’m just going to get my GED and take a few classes. I don’t know if it will go anywhere. I might end up here dancing again in six months.”

“Ha! Blue would never let that happen.” Her eyes narrow at the far wall, as if she can see right through brick. As if she can punish him with just a look. “I’m the only one left.”

I snort. “There are twenty girls working here.”

She brushes them off with a wave of her hand, showing off pink nails with white polka dots. “They don’t understand me.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I don’t understand you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, but they don’t like me.”

“They’re just afraid of you because you perform weird voodoo on the men so they all love you. And because you have a thing with Ivan.”

“Why do people think that? He only talks to me because I’ve been working here a long time.”

I glance at the balcony. I can only see dark velvet curtains, but I thought I saw a shadow shift. Only one man would have access to be up there. One man with a very particular interest in the girl swinging her legs from the stage.

“For being smart about men,” I say, “you’re stupid about him.”

That makes her laugh. Her face lights up, and for that moment, she does look like a child. It’s disconcerting, because I know exactly where we are. No matter how pretty the building or how cultured its owner, the Grand is a dirty strip club. It strips all of us—taking our clothes and our dignity, turning men into base animals.

Her smile goes sly. “Maybe that’s true, but I know he gets off on scaring girls like me. And I refuse to be scared.”

I thought that way about the men who came here, but Blue tore me down with a single glance. He still tears me down with a glance, full of lust and longing. Full of love. “Be careful,” I tell her. “Men like that don’t give up easy.”

“No, they don’t,” she says, her voice wistful. “But I’ve already seen the biggest monster, the one at the center of the maze. There is nothing Ivan could do as bad as that.”

I shiver at the certainty in her voice. There are men that would take that as a challenge.

The balcony is dark and still—and empty. It’s just a feeling more than a visual cue. He’s gone now, but he was there before. Watching. Listening.

Waiting.

The front double door opens, leaving a tall, broad man in silhouette. I know the shape of him intimately. I’ve traced his whole body with my hands. Blue.

He crosses the room quickly and takes me in his arms. “Need more time?”

I glance back at Candy, still sitting on the stage. For a second she looks almost forlorn. Then her usual smile slides into place, sunny and sardonic all at once. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Guilt tugs at me for leaving her behind. “Come with me.”

Her smile is faint. “I belong here. You, on the other hand, have a whole life waiting for you.”

My heart clenches, because I thought I belonged here once too. I thought my life was wrapped around a pole, clad in red lace, with only the heavy beat of a song to carry me forward. Now I have something else to wrap around, something else to cover and carry me.

Blue’s body is warm and solid next to mine. I lean into him, turning my face toward him to catch his scent. “Let’s go,” I whisper.

His lips are gentle on my forehead. He guides me away, out of the dark, into the golden afternoon light. I’m blinded by it, but I don’t slow down. I know he can see, and I’m content to let him lead. More than content, I’m happy in my surrender. Forever fulfilled in the calloused hands that will hold me and hurt me, calm me and keep me, love me and never let me leave.

THE END

Thank you for reading Better When It Hurts!

I hope you loved it!!

Want more Blue and Lola? The next book in the Stripped series is Even Better, when an old military friend comes to visit. It’s dirty and sexy and dangerous—because three is a crowd.

Or you can read the next full-length novel in the Stripped series, about Candy and Ivan…

“Dark, perverse, and unbearably erotic, Pretty When You Cry is Skye Warren at her gritty best.” ~ Anna Zaires, USA Today bestselling author of Twist Me

I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.

My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.

That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.

READ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY >

INTRODUCTION

ON THE WRONG side of thirty, Austin Montgomery is ready to settle down. Unfortunately, his inked sleeves and scruffy beard isn’t the suave business appearance some women crave. Only finding a woman who can deal with his job, as a tattoo artist and owner of Montgomery Ink, his seven meddling siblings, and his own gruff attitude won’t be easy.

Finding a man is the last thing on Sierra Elder’s mind. A recent transplant to Denver, her focus is on opening her own boutique. Wanting to cover up scars that run deeper than her flesh, she finds in Austin a man that truly gets to her—in more ways than one.

Although wary, they embark on a slow, tempestuous burn of a relationship. When blasts from both their pasts intrude on their present, however, it will take more than a promise of what could be to keep them together.

Delicate Ink

A Montgomery Ink

By: Carrie Ann Ryan

© 2014 Carrie Ann Ryan

ISBN: 978-1-62322-110-2

Cover Art by Scott Carpenter

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

For more information, please join Carrie Ann Ryan’s MAILING LIST.

To interact with Carrie Ann Ryan, you can join her FAN CLUB.

To Shayla Black: Thank you for your encouragement and push through this novel. You helped me more than you could ever know.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

With each book, my circle of friends and helpers grows leaps and bounds. Delicate Ink wouldn’t have been written without the encouragement of my assistant Charity and my husband Dr. Hubby. Thank you both for being patient with me.

My editors Devin, Saya, and Sir ramped up their own talents this time and I appreciate it. Especially Saya who held my hand when I was afraid to venture too far into a past I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Sir, thank you for loving Austin as much as I do.

My writing group—we still need a name ladies!!—helped me out so much with this book and I hope my future books as well. You guys were fantastic with our writing sprints, squirrels, addictions to Witches of East End and Scandal, and our coffee fixes. So Shayla Black, Lexi Blake, Kennedy Layne, Angel Payne, Jenna Jacob, Carly Phillips, Stacey Kennedy, and others, thank you. I totally needed that push and wouldn’t have been able to finish Austin and Sierra’s stories without you all.

As always, I need to thank my readers. Thank you for finding me here for the first time with Delicate Ink and thank you for keeping with me as I jump full speed ahead into being a contemporary and paranormal author. You guys made this series hit the New York Times and I will forever be grateful.

CHAPTER ONE

“IF YOU DON’T TURN that fucking music down, I’m going to ram this tattoo gun up a place no one on this earth should ever see.”

Austin Montgomery lifted the needle from his client’s arm so he could hold back a rough chuckle. He let his foot slide off the pedal so he could keep his composure. Dear Lord, his sister Maya clearly needed more coffee in her life.

Or for someone to turn down the fucking music in the shop.

“You’re not even working, Maya. Let me have my tunes,” Sloane, another artist, mumbled under his breath. Yeah, he didn’t yell it. Didn’t need to. No one wanted to yell at Austin’s sister. The man might be as big as a house and made of pure muscle, but no one messed with Maya.

Not if they wanted to live.

“I’m sketching, you dumbass,” Maya sniped, even though the smile in her eyes belied her wrath. His sister loved Sloane like a brother. Not that she didn’t have enough brothers and sisters to begin with, but the Montgomerys always had their arms open for strays and spares.

Austin rolled his eyes at the pair’s antics and stood up from his stool, his body aching from being bent over for too long. He refrained from saying that aloud as Maya and Sloane would have a joke for that. He usually preferred to have the other person in bed—or in the kitchen, office, doorway, etc—bent over, but that wasn’t where he would allow his mind to go. As it was, he was too damn old to be sitting in that position for too long, but he wanted to get this sleeve done for his customer.

“Hold on a sec, Rick,” he said to the man in the chair. “Want juice or anything? I’m going to stretch my legs and make sure Maya doesn’t kill Sloane.” He winked as he said it, just in case his client didn’t get the joke.

People could be so touchy when siblings threatened each other with bodily harm even while they smiled as they said it.

“Juice sounds good,” Rick slurred, a sappy smile on his face. “Don’t let Maya kill you.”

Rick blinked his eyes open, the adrenaline running through his system giving him the high that a few patrons got once they were in the chair for a couple hours. To Austin, there was nothing better than having Maya ink his skin—or doing it himself—and letting the needle do its work. He wasn’t a pain junkie, far from it if he was honest with himself, but he liked the adrenaline that led the way into fucking fantastic art. While some people thought bodies were sacred and tattoos only marred them, he knew it differently. Art on canvas, any canvas, could have the potential to be art worth bleeding for. As such, he was particular as to who laid a needle on his skin. He only let Maya ink him when he couldn’t do it himself. Maya was the same way. Whatever she couldn’t do herself, he did.

They were brother and sister, friends, and co-owners of Montgomery Ink.

He and Maya had opened the shop a decade ago when she’d turned twenty. He probably could have opened it a few years earlier since he was eight years older than Maya, but he’d wanted to wait until she was ready. They were joint owners. It had never been his shop while she worked with him. They both had equal say, although with the way Maya spoke, sometimes her voice seemed louder. His deeper one carried just as much weight, even if he didn’t yell as much.

Barely.

Sure, he wasn’t as loud as Maya, but he got his point across when needed. His voice held control and authority.

He picked up a juice box for Rick from their mini-fridge and turned down the music on his way back. Sloane scowled at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if he held back a laugh.

“Thank God one of you has a brain in his head,” Maya mumbled in the now quieter room. She rolled her eyes as both he and Sloane flipped her off then went back to her sketch. Yeah, she could have gotten up to turn the music down herself, but then she couldn’t have vented her excess energy at the two of them. That was just how his sister worked, and there would be no changing that.

He went back to his station situated in the back so he had the corner space, handed Rick his juice, then rubbed his back. Damn, he was getting old. Thirty-eight wasn’t that far up there on the scales, but ever since he’d gotten back from New Orleans, he hadn’t been able to shake the weight of something off of his chest.

He needed to be honest. He’d started feeling this way since before New Orleans. He’d gone down to the city to visit his cousin Shep and try to get out of his funk. He’d broken up with Shannon right before then; however, in reality, it wasn’t as much a breakup as a lack of connection and communication. They hadn’t cared about each other enough to move on to the next level, and as sad as that was, he was fine with it. If he couldn’t get up the energy to pursue a woman beyond a couple of weeks or months of heat, then he knew he was the problem. He just didn’t know the solution. Shannon hadn’t been the first woman who had ended the relationship in that fashion. There’d been Brenda, Sandrine, and another one named Maggie.

He’d cared for all of them at the time. He wasn’t a complete asshole, but he’d known deep down that they weren’t going to be with him forever, and they thought the same of him. He also knew that it was time to actually find a woman to settle down with. If he wanted a future, a family, he was running out of time.

Going to New Orleans hadn’t worked out in the least considering, at the time, Shep was falling in love with a pretty blonde named Shea. Not that Austin begrudged the man that. Shep had been his best friend growing up, closer to him than his four brothers and three sisters. It’d helped that he and Shep were the same age while the next of his siblings, the twins Storm and Wes, were four years younger.

His parents had taken their time to have eight kids, meaning he was a full fifteen years older than the baby, Miranda, but he hadn’t cared. The eight of them, most of his cousins, and a few strays were as close as ever. He’d helped raise the youngest ones as an older brother but had never felt like he had to. His parents, Marie and Harry, loved each of their kids equally and had put their whole beings into their roles as parents. Every single concert, game, ceremony, or even parent-teacher meeting was attended by at least one of them. On the good days, the ones where Dad could get off work and Mom had the day off from Montgomery Inc., they both would attend. They loved their kids.

He loved being a Montgomery.

The sound of Sloane’s needle buzzing as he sang whatever tune played in his head made Austin grin.

And he fucking loved his shop.

Every bare brick and block of polished wood, every splash of black and hot pink—colors he and Maya had fought on and he’d eventually given in to—made him feel at home. He’d taken the family crest and symbol, the large MI surrounded by a broken floral circle, and used it as their logo. His brothers, Storm and Wes, owned Montgomery Inc., a family construction company that their father had once owned and where their mother had worked at his side before they’d retired. They, too, used the same logo since it meant family to them.

In fact, the MI was tattooed on every single immediate family member—including his parents. His own was on his right forearm tangled in the rest of his sleeve but given a place of meaning. It meant Montgomery Iris—open your eyes, see the beauty, remember who you are. It was only natural to use it for their two respective companies.

Not that the Ink vs Inc. wasn’t confusing as hell, but fuck, they were Montgomerys. They could do whatever they wanted. As long as they were together, they’d get through it.

Montgomery Ink was just as much his home as his house on the ravine. While Shep had gone on to work at Midnight Ink and created another family there, Austin had always wanted to own his shop. Maya growing up to want to do the same thing had only helped.

Montgomery Ink was now a thriving business in downtown Denver right off 16th Street Mall. They were near parking, food, and coffee. There really wasn’t more he needed. The drive in most mornings could suck once he got on I-25, but it was worth it to live out in Arvada. The ’burbs around Denver made it easy to live in one area of the city and work in another. Commutes, though hellish at rush hour, weren’t as bad as some. This way he got the city living when it came to work and play, and the option to hide behind the trees pressed up against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains once he got home.

It was the best of both worlds.

At least for him.

Austin got back on his stool and concentrated on Rick’s sleeve for another hour before calling it quits. He needed a break for his lower back, and Rick needed a break from the pain. Not that Rick was feeling much since the man currently looked like he’d just gotten laid—pain freaks, Austin loved them—but he didn’t want to push either of them too far. Also, Plus Rick’s arm had started to swell slightly from all the shading and multiple colors. They’d do another session, the last, hopefully, in a month or so when both of them could work it in their schedules and then finish up.

Austin scowled at the computer at the front of shop, his fingers too big for the damn keys on the prissy computer Maya had demanded they buy.

“Fuck!”

He’d just deleted Rick’s whole account because he couldn’t find the right button.

“Maya, get your ass over here and fix this. I don’t know what the hell I did.”

Maya lifted one pierced brow as she worked on a lower back tattoo for some teenage girl who didn’t look old enough to get ink in the first place.

“I’m busy, Austin. You’re not an idiot, though evidence at the moment points to the contrary. Fix it yourself. I can’t help it if you have ape hands.”

Austin flipped her off then took a sip of his Coke, wishing he had something stronger considering he hated paperwork. “I was fine with the old keyboard and the PC, Maya. You’re the one who wanted to go with the Mac because it looked pretty.”

“Fuck you, Austin. I wanted a Mac because I like the software.”

Austin snorted while trying to figure out how to find Rick’s file. He was pretty sure it was a lost cause at this point. “You hate the software as much as I do. You hit the damn red X and close out files more than I do. Everything’s in the wrong place, and the keyboard is way too fucking dainty.”

“I’m going to go with Austin on this one,” Sloane added in, his beefy hands in the air.

“See? I’m not alone.”

Maya let out a breath. “We can get another keyboard for you and Gigantor’s hands, but we need to keep the Mac.”

“And why is that?” he demanded.

“Because we just spent a whole lot of money on it, and once it goes, we can get another PC. Fuck the idea that everything can be all in one. I can’t figure it out either.” She held up a hand. “And don’t even think about breaking it. I’ll know, Austin. I always know.”

Austin held back a grin. He wouldn’t be surprised if the computer met with an earlier than expected unfortunate fate now that Maya had relented.

Right then, however, that idea didn’t help. He needed to find Rick’s file.

“Callie!” Austin yelled over the buzz of needles and soft music Maya had allowed them to play.

“What?” His apprentice came out of the break room, a sketchbook in one hand and a smirk on her face. She’d dyed her hair again so it had black and red highlights. It looked good on her, but honestly, he never knew what color she’d have next. “Break something on the computer again with those big man hands?”

“Shut up, minion,” he teased. Callie was an up-and-coming artist, and if she kept on the track she was on, he and Maya knew she’d be getting her own chair at Montgomery Ink soon. Not that he’d tell Callie that, though. He liked keeping her on her toes. She reminded him of his little sister Miranda so much that he couldn’t help but treat her as such.

She pushed him out of the way and groaned. “Did you have to press every button as you rampaged through the operating system?”

Austin could have sworn he felt his cheeks heat, but since he had a thick enough beard, he knew no one would have been able to tell.

Hopefully.

He hated feeling as if he didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to use a computer. He wasn’t an idiot. He just didn’t know this computer. And it bugged the shit out of him.

After a couple of keystrokes and a click of the mouse, Callie stepped back with a smug smile on her face. “Okay, boss, you’re all ready to go, and Rick’s file is back where it should be. What else do you need from me?”

He bopped her on the head, messing up her red and black hair he knew she spent an hour on every morning with a flat iron. He couldn’t help it.

“Go clean a toilet or something.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go sketch. And you’re welcome.”

“Thanks for fixing the damn thing. And really, go clean the bathroom.”

“Not gonna do it,” she sang as she skipped to the break room.

“You really have no control over your apprentice,” Sloane commented from his station.

Because he didn’t want that type of control with her. Well, hell, his mind kept going to that dark place every few minutes it seemed.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“I see your vocabulary hasn’t changed much,” Shannon purred from the doorway.

He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Okay, maybe he’d lied to himself when he said it was mutual and easy to break up with her. The damn woman kept showing up. He didn’t think she wanted him, but she didn’t want him to forget her either.

He did not understand women.

Especially this one.

“What do you want, Shannon?” he bit out, needing that drink now more than ever.

She sauntered over to him and scraped her long, red nail down his chest. He’d liked that once. Now, not even a little. They were decent together when they’d dated, but he’d had to hide most of himself from her. She’d never tasted the edge of his flogger or felt his hand on her ass when she’d been bent over his lap. That hadn’t been what she wanted, and Austin was into the kind of kink that meant he wanted what he wanted when he wanted. It didn’t mean he wanted it every time.

Not that Shannon would ever understand that.

“Oh, baby, you know what I want.”

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As he took a step back, he saw the gleam in her eyes and decided to head it off at the pass. He was in no mood to play her games, or whatever she wanted to do that night. He wanted to go home, drink a beer, and forget this oddly annoying day.

“If you don’t want ink, then I don’t know what you’re doing here, Shannon. We’re done.” He tried to say it quietly, but his voice was deep, and it carried.

“How could you be so cruel?” She pouted.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Maya sneered. “Go home, little girl. You and Austin are through, and I’m pretty sure it was mutual. Oh, and you’re not getting any ink here. You’re not getting Austin’s hands on you this way, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting my art on you. Not if you keep coming back to bug the man you didn’t really date in the first place.”

“Bi—” Shannon cut herself off as Austin glared. Nobody called his sister a bitch. Nobody.

“Goodbye, Shannon.” Jesus, he was too old for this shit.

“Fine. I see how it is. Whatever. You were only an okay lay anyway.” She shook her ass as she left, bumping into a woman in a linen skirt and blouse.

The woman, whose long honey-brown hair hung in waves down to her breasts, raised a brow. “I see your business has an…interesting clientele.”

Austin clenched his jaw. Seriously the wrong thing to say after Shannon.

“If you’ve got a problem, you can head on right back to where you came from, Legs,” he bit out, his voice harsher than he’d intended.

She stiffened then raised her chin, a clear sense of disdain radiating off of her.

Oh yes, he knew who this was, legs and all. Ms. Elder. He hadn’t caught a first name. Hadn’t wanted to. She had to be in her late twenties, maybe, and owned the soon-to-be-opened boutique across the street. He’d seen her strut around in her too-tall heels and short skirts but hadn’t been formally introduced.

Not that he wanted an introduction.

She was too damn stuffy and ritzy for his taste. Not only her store but the woman herself. The look of disdain on her face made him want to show her the door and never let her back in.

He knew what he looked like. Longish dark brown hair, thick beard, muscles covered in ink with a hint of more ink coming out of his shirt. He looked like a felon to some people who didn’t know the difference, though he’d never seen the inside of a jail cell in his life. But he knew people like Ms. Elder. They judged people like him. And that one eyebrow pissed him the fuck off.

He didn’t want this woman’s boutique across the street from him. He’d liked it when it was an old record store. People didn’t glare at his store that way. Now he had to walk past the mannequins with the rich clothes and tiny lacy scraps of things if he wanted a fucking coffee from the shop next door.

Damn it, this woman pissed him off, and he had no idea why.

“Nice to meet you too. Callie!” he shouted, his eyes still on Ms. Elder as if he couldn’t pull his gaze from her. Her green eyes never left his either, and the uncomfortable feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away.

Callie ran up beside him and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Callie. How can I help you?”

Ms. Elder blinked once. Twice. “I think I made a mistake,” she whispered.

Fuck. Now he felt like a heel. He didn’t know what it was with this woman, but he couldn’t help but act like an ass. She hadn’t even done anything but lift an eyebrow at him, and he’d already set out to hate her.

Callie shook her head then reached for Ms. Elder’s elbow. “I’m sure you haven’t. Ignore the growly, bearded man over there. He needs more caffeine. And his ex was just in here; that alone would make anyone want to jump off the Royal Gorge. So, tell me, how can I help you? Oh! And what’s your name?”

Ms. Elder followed Callie to the sitting area with leather couches and portfolios spread over the coffee table and then sat down.

“I’m Sierra, and I want a tattoo.” She looked over her shoulder and glared at Austin. “Or, at least, I thought I did.”

Austin held back a wince when she turned her attention from him and cursed himself. Well, fuck. He needed to learn not to put his foot in his mouth, but damn it, how was he supposed to know she wanted a tattoo? For all he knew, she wanted to come in there and look down on the place. That was his own prejudice coming into play. He needed to make it up to her. After all, they were neighbors now. However, from the cross look on her face and the feeling in the room, he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to make it up to her today. He’d let Callie help her out to start with, and then he’d make sure he was the one who laid ink on her skin.

After all, it was the least he could do. Besides, his hands all of a sudden—or not so suddenly if he really thought about it—wanted to touch that delicate skin of hers and find out her secrets.

Austin cursed. He wouldn’t let his thoughts go down that path. She’d break under his care, under his needs. Sure, Sierra Elder might be hot, but she wasn’t the woman for him.

If he knew anything, he knew that for sure.

CHAPTER TWO

SIERRA ELDER THREW her handbag on the counter and stomped her heels on the tile. The nerve of that man. The freaking nerve.

Seriously? That bearded mountain of a man thought he had the right to judge her? What right did he have to sneer at her and look down on her with those gorgeous blue eyes, and make her feel like she didn’t belong in his shop?

Wait.

Gorgeous blue eyes?

What the hell was wrong with her? He’d judged her and found her wanting, and yet she thought he had pretty eyes?

She was twenty-nine for freak’s sake. Not a teenager. Pretty eyes shouldn’t matter. But they were gorgeous.

Apparently, she needed to eat since she was clearly lightheaded and not thinking straight. That man had thrown her off her game, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. It had taken all her courage to walk across the street and into the black and hot pink shop.

Dear Lord, the courage.

She’d lived with the consequences of her actions, of Jason’s actions, for ten years, and in some respects, it hadn’t been long enough. Not enough time to wash away the taint, the nightmares.

She couldn’t think about that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

That Montgomery, Austin, according to her friend Hailey, had pushed her back, and now she knew she needed to buck up and figure out her next step. If she was honest with herself, she would say that she’d just been looking for an excuse to run away from her plans of ink and recovery, but she didn’t want to be honest with herself. She wanted to blame Austin of the gorgeous blue eyes for her problems and fear. If only for a moment. It was the coward’s way out, but she’d take it for the afternoon.

Then she’d find a way to walk back in and talk to the sweet apprentice, Callie, about finally getting her tattoo. Until then, she’d think of interesting ways to beat the crap out of Austin since she was too small to actually do it herself. Plus, violence wasn’t always the answer. Not always.

Great. Now she didn’t know what to think, but she was still hungry. She looked around at the almost finished shop she loved and shook her head. She was too angry, confused, and hungry to deal with the little details that remained until her opening in a few days. What she needed was a sandwich, fresh iced tea, and the smile of her new friend, Hailey.

Luckily, Taboo, Hailey’s café, sat right across the street from her own boutique, Eden. That also meant that Taboo was right next to Montgomery Ink, but that couldn’t be avoided. Sierra thought the café even had a side door right into the shop, which must be nice for the artists. Lucky bastards.

Lucky Austin Montgomery.

Nope. She wasn’t going to think about him anymore. Not even her rabid curiosity about just how much ink he wore and where it led would move her from her position. She did not want Austin Montgomery, and she did not want anything having to do with his tattoos, thank you very much.

And enough about bearded mountain man’s tattoos.

It wasn’t just the tattoo, however. Just his presence made her yearn for things she’d long since buried.

She picked up the purse she’d thrown on the counter and left her shop, locking it behind her. After a good meal and a pick-me-up conversation, she’d get back to it. There were numerous details left for her to handle, but she’d mapped out a whole afternoon off so she could talk with a tattoo artist.

Now it seemed that would all be for naught, but she wasn’t going to think about that. Not until she talked with Hailey and had a turkey and provolone club in her belly. She’d been so stressed for the last few months working on getting Eden ready, putting all her hopes and dreams into a store that could crash and burn on the streets of Denver, that she hadn’t been eating as much as she should. Luckily, Hailey took care of Sierra and made sure that she had food in her system, at least when she was downtown.

Sierra didn’t have the curves she’d always craved when she was younger. She might have filled out some from her all-limbs and flat-chested youth, but not much. She still had harsh angles and barely a handful of breasts, though Jason had never complained.

No, she wasn’t going to think about Jason.

Not twice in one day. There was only so much she could take without trying to find a drink before five at night. She had standards and rules after all.

She purposely kept her gaze from the front of Montgomery Ink. Their large windows made it easy to see in and watch the artists at work. She couldn’t trust herself not to find the one man she shouldn’t find in the first place, so she kept on walking. The man angered her, made her feel like she wasn’t wanted, and yet her damned libido still wanted him.

It was just her dry spell, and he happened to be an oasis in the desert.

A mirage.

That was it.

“There you are,” Hailey called out from her place behind the counter. “I was about to call you and make you come over here for food. God knows you haven’t eaten yet.” Hailey smiled, her red-painted lips bold against her pale skin and white-blonde bob with blunt bangs. The other woman always reminded Sierra of a starlet of a forgotten era mixed with the undeniable energy and spunk of the current one.

Hailey also made kick-ass soup and sandwiches. The woman was a dream with coffee, despite the fact that during peak hours, when she didn’t have time to wait in line for better coffee, Sierra went to the other coffee shop that sat right beside Eden. She’d seen Austin meander in with those long legs of his to the place next door to Eden as well.

Not that Sierra watched him move.

She disliked him, she remembered. Disliked him and his attitude.

“I’m here, and I’m starving. Your famous club, please.” Sierra leaned over the counter to brush a kiss on the other woman’s cheek, the soft scent of Hailey’s perfume calming her. Hailey might have secrets that Sierra could never pry out of her, but she listened and helped Sierra move on from the pain she’d so long hidden from the world.

When she thought about it, she knew their friendship would seem one-sided. However, Hailey knew that Sierra would be there for her when the other woman shared her past. Sierra herself had only just recently done so. In fact, Hailey was the only person in her new life that knew even a fragment of the journey that had sent Sierra from Boulder down to Edgewater and Denver, Colorado. The miles down the highway might not seem long to some, but the mileage and wear on her body and soul were far from short.

Hailey set the sandwich and iced tea in front of Sierra then walked around the bar to sit down next to her. “Tell Momma Hailey what’s wrong, darling.”

Sierra snorted her tea then wiped her chin. “Warn a girl before you start calling yourself Momma Hailey.”

Hailey wrinkled her nose and stole a sweet potato fry. “Yeah, that so doesn’t work. I was trying out a new thing. Maybe if I dye my hair a different color and nod sagely it would work.”

Sierra tried to think of the other woman with a hair color darker or even brighter—if that was possible—than what she currently had and came up empty. “You’re a bleach-blonde girl, Hailey. I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”

Hailey tugged on a strand of Sierra’s hair and frowned. “I would try something like yours, that darker chestnut with honey highlights, but I don’t think that’s me.”

“The highlights aren’t natural; I’ve paid good money for them, but I like them.” She squinted and tried to picture Hailey with the color of her own hair. “I can see you in them if you tried, Hailey. You’d be beautiful no matter what color your hair is. The blonde, honey, that’s your personality as I know you.”

“Did you just call me an airhead?” Hailey winked, and Sierra rolled her eyes.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, dork.”

The bell above the door tinkled, and Hailey stood, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ve bothered you enough. Now eat while I take care of these customers. Then you can tell me what’s going on in that head of yours and why you look so lost.”

Sierra nodded, unnerved that Hailey could read her so well, though Sierra had tried to hide her nerves. Sure, it could be because of Eden’s grand opening in a few days, but she had a feeling she looked as if it was something more. After all, it was something more.

When she took a bite of her sandwich, Sierra’s eyes almost rolled back in her head. The burst of spicy mayo on freshly carved turkey and cheese made Sierra want to kneel at Hailey’s feet. She might have knelt at another’s feet in her past due to more personal reasons, but she’d never done it for food before. Hailey would be so worth it.

Wow, she had no idea where that memory came from, but she needed to bury it like she had all the others. Jason was gone, and she was moving on. She’d even looked into finding a way to cover up the evidence of her past that afternoon.

“You’re scowling,” Hailey remarked, thankfully pulling Sierra out of her thoughts.

Sierra took another deep gulp of her tea then cleaned off her mouth, surprised to find she’d eaten every last scrap of her sandwich and sweet potato fries while she’d been lost in the tangled web of her thoughts.

“I’m not scowling,” she lied. She may have been scowling for all she knew. She’d been thinking of men with blue eyes and a lost love she didn’t want to remember.

“You were, but I’ll let you think otherwise if it helps. So, I might have gone off track when you first walked in with that Momma Hailey stuff, but I’m here now, and people are taken care of. What’s wrong, dear?”

Sierra licked her lips, surprised to find herself nervous about telling Hailey what had happened that day. The other woman didn’t know everything that had gone on in Sierra’s past but knew enough that whatever Sierra said next would hold meaning rather than pleasant nothings and murmurs. That, above all else, told her to let it all out. Maybe not then, not in Taboo, but soon. She needed friends, needed confidants. She needed to step away from the cage that was Boulder and her own memories, and find a new way to live.

That, after all, was why she was opening Eden in only a few short days.

“I went into Montgomery Ink for a tattoo and met that oaf of a man, Austin.” She hurried through her sentence and looked over Hailey’s shoulder to ensure the door between Taboo and the tattoo shop was indeed closed. The last thing she wanted was for that bearded crazy man to walk through and listen to her speaking of him.

Thankfully, the door hadn’t opened, and she was in the clear.

“A tattoo! Really?” Hailey squeezed her arm, once again bringing Sierra’s thoughts out of delicious scruff and into the present. Maybe she needed more caffeine. “What are you going to get?”

Sierra blinked. “So we’re just glossing over the oaf-of-a-man part of my statement?”

Hailey narrowed her eyes as she pursed her lips. “If you want to only talk about Austin, we can do that. I don’t quite think of him as an oaf, so you’ll have to elaborate.”

“He’s a rude, inconsiderate oaf.” And she wanted to crawl up his body. Damn it. She would not allow herself to think like that. Not again.

Hailey frowned. “What did he do? Do I need to go kick his ass? I might work right next to him and have known him longer, but that doesn’t give him the right to be rude. What did he do?” she repeated.

Sierra closed her eyes, annoyed at herself for even bringing it up. Hailey was a good judge of character, and if she hadn’t had a problem with Austin before, it was probably just Sierra. Oh goody, she just brought out the best in people, didn’t she?

“I went in for a tattoo, something I’ll talk about with you later—when I’m ready.” Hailey gripped her hand, and Sierra opened her eyes to see the other woman’s knowing gaze. “I promise. It took enough for me to even walk over there and try. I’ll explain it all eventually. That’s if I go through with it. As soon as I walked in, Austin was there, glowering at a woman talking about their sex life. I mean, really.”

Though she didn’t want to press it, that odd kernel of something akin to jealousy had rankled her. That was why she’d been as rude as she had at first. She hadn’t meant to talk poorly about the shop. No, she’d heard great things about it, so that wasn’t her intent. The woman with the sultry walk and plump lips had annoyed her. Before Sierra had opened her mouth, she’d seen the same emotion running through Austin’s eyes. Not that she’d given either of them time to understand it.

Crap. Maybe it was all her fault that Austin had acted like that—dismissing her without just cause. To him, her careless words could have been construed the same way. Damn it. She wasn’t going to apologize. Not when Austin was worse. She might apologize to that nice girl, Callie, but that was it. She didn’t need to speak to Austin. Ever.

“That would be Shannon,” Hailey said then raised her brow. “The woman talking about their sex life. They broke up months ago, and from what I hear, it was mutual.”

“Then why is this Shannon walking into his place of business discussing the lack of flair in their sex life?”

Hailey snorted, her grin wide. “Oh really? She said that? That’s a whole different tune than what she was singing when they were going out. It was all ‘Austin’s hung like this’ and ‘Austin can get her off in two seconds flat.’ ”

Sierra’s eyes widened. “She said that? To you?”

Hailey stood and cleared off the counter, a spring in her step. “Hell, yeah. She said it to any woman who’d listen. After all she was with the Austin Montgomery.”

“He’s a the?” She could see that. No. No she couldn’t. Damn it, that man needed to get out of her fantasies.

Hailey looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Oh, honey, he’s the the.”

An uncomfortable wash of envy…or something much worse filled her. “Did you and he ever…”

Hailey threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, God no. I wouldn’t say he’s like a brother to me, not like he is with Callie or his three sisters, but he’s like a first cousin or something. So not on my radar like that.” An odd look crossed her face, and Sierra perked up.

“Is someone else on your radar that I should know about?” Hailey was notoriously single and quiet about it. Sierra just wanted her friend happy. After all, one of them should be.

Hailey shook her head, stopped, and then shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Her gaze went to the closed door between the shop and Taboo, and Sierra’s interest sparked.

So, it was someone at Montgomery Ink that had captured Hailey’s heart. It if wasn’t Austin, it could be any one of the other artists or apprentices there. Sierra wouldn’t push and pry. At least not then. Maybe when they were liquored up, she’d pry it out of her.

“Also, we were talking about sexy Austin,” Hailey said, her eyes too bright, her smile too wide. Yes, there was something there, something that Sierra would do her best to help with when she could.

“Sexy Austin?” That bad-boy biker look had been in her past, and she’d thought she’d gotten over it. Apparently she hadn’t. Not by far.

“Don’t tell me you don’t see it. I saw your eyes light up even when you called him an oaf. But I digress. Back to Shannon. The two of them broke up, and I thought everything was fine. Shannon, from what I can tell, doesn’t like to let anything go. She probably went along with the breakup because she thought she could find someone with deeper pockets or a bigger cock. It looks like she didn’t find it.”

Sierra’s mouth hung open at the description then laughed with Hailey. “Well then. That’s good to know.”

“Is it?” Hailey teased.

Blushing, Sierra stood up and left money on the counter. “Shut up. And take the money, Hailey. You can’t keep forcing me to keep my money and not pay for my meal.”

Hailey curled her lip in a snarl. “If I want my friends to eat for free in my own shop, then I should be able to. You need the money for Eden anyway.”

True, but that wasn’t the point. “You need the money for Taboo as well. Just come over and buy a sexy bra and panty set when we open.”

Hailey raised a brow. “It seems to me that’s quite a bit more than a sandwich.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to buy a few more sandwiches. Now I’m off to the store to work on a few last-minute displays before I go into inventory again. Thanks for talking to me and for the food.”

“We really didn’t talk about anything, Sierra.” Hailey met her gaze, and Sierra saw the concern there.

“I know, but it’s exactly what I needed. I’m going to work my tail off for the next few days to make Eden ready for the best opening ever. Then I will go back into Montgomery Ink—Austin Montgomery or no—and get my tattoo.”

“That’s the spirit. And when you do get yours, let me know, and I’ll hold your hand. You’re not alone, Sierra.”

Sierra nodded then left on her way to Eden. Hailey might be in her corner, but Sierra knew the other woman was wrong.

She was alone.

And that was the way it was meant to be.

CHAPTER THREE

I WANT to suck your cock. That big, meaty dick that filled me up so much I couldn’t walk for days. I miss the sound of your voice as you come inside me. I miss the feel of your silky, white cum in my engorged pussy.

So not the message he needed to be reading during the Montgomery family outdoor barbecue. Engorged? Can we say hell, no?

Austin deleted Shannon’s text and groaned. That woman just wouldn’t take a hint and leave him the hell alone. He thought they’d broken up because they were bored with each other. Apparently he was wrong. No matter how many times he told her they were over—something he was pretty sure had been her idea in the first place—she kept coming on to him. She texted him shit he certainly didn’t want to see or read, came by his house and shop, and was on the verge of stalking him in every sense of the word.

He wasn’t worried she’d hurt him, or anyone else around him; that wasn’t her style, but he was getting tired of it. Plus, if he wanted to actually move on and date another person, well, he didn’t want to think about what she’d do about that. She’d always been jealous when it came to his past. He hadn’t thought about how she’d react to his future.

That would teach him to try to have a good time rather than settle down.

He closed his eyes as he put his phone back in his pocket. Settle down? Was that what he wanted to do? The idea held merit considering the way Shep smiled and laughed every time he was near his Shea, but Austin also saw the strain of marriage on two of his siblings. Sure, his parents made it look effortless, but Alex’s and Miranda’s respective marriages never made it look like it was something he wanted to do.

Though he didn’t know the whole story, he never saw either of them as an incentive to getting married in the first place.

He was getting old. He’d thought he’d be married by now with a couple kids. That hadn’t happened, and as forty quickly approached, he was afraid he’d lost his chance at that forever.

Images of honey-brown hair and big green eyes filled his mind, and he had to swallow hard. Sierra might not be his usual type, but she wouldn’t leave his mind alone. That didn’t mean he wanted her. Not like that. She wasn’t the answer to whatever marriage questions he had on his mind. She was just a woman who might want a tattoo and probably thought he was some dirty biker tattoo artist.

That was fine with him.

“Why do you look like you just smelled something rank?” Wes, his brother closest in age, asked him. Wes might have been only three minutes older than Storm, but he’d used that small time frame like no other for the past three or so decades.

“One word. Shannon.”

Wes raised a brow and tucked his hands in his dress pants. Though they were at their parents’ house in Westminster, Wes hadn’t changed into jeans and a T-shirt like the rest of the family. He still wore a long-sleeved button-down and his work attire, but he’d at least taken off the tie. Wes was a contractor and head of Montgomery Ink. Yes, his twin, Storm, also ran the company with him, but Wes was the idea man. Storm liked to hide in the background. If anyone asked the two of them, they’d say their administrative assistant, Tabitha, was the glue that held them together, but that was another story altogether.

“Did someone say Shannon?” Storm asked as he walked up to the two of them, three beers in his hands. He handed them off and took a sip of his own. Wes and Storm were identical twins. Years and personalities had made them easy to tell apart. Storm had the rugged look down pat with his long hair, never-quite-shaved face, worn jeans, and bulkier frame. Both men were strong as hell to do their jobs, but Storm had filled out more over time. It didn’t matter that he was the architect of Montgomery Inc. He used his hands more often than not.

“Yeah. She keeps texting me and shit,” Austin explained after he took a sip of his beer. Storm had brought Fat Tire to the party, and Austin couldn’t have been more grateful. Nothing like a Colorado beer to make him feel better.

“I told you she’d be trouble,” Wes said sagely.

Austin flipped him off then leaned against the side of the house, his back aching from a six-hour session on his client’s back piece. Maybe he’d get a massage from the spa down the street. He’d long since given up on the idea it was sissy. They worked wonders on his back—and nothing else, unlike what his brothers teased him about—so he could work long days and do what he loved.

Maybe if he was lucky, he’d find a woman to massage him at home as well.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself. Dating just for the moment was what got him into this mess with Shannon. He needed to keep a tighter rein on his dick it seemed. Maybe he’d head to the club with Decker and find a sub to help. That might relieve the tension. But even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn’t be good enough. He wanted long-term, though he’d never admit that out loud at this stage. Helping a sub for only a night or two wouldn’t be enough for him.

“You never said Shannon would be trouble,” Storm argued. “You said she would wrap Austin around her little finger and fuck him over.” His brother grinned at Austin. “Well, maybe that means trouble after all.”

“You’re a laugh riot. Both of you. Now I’m going to go and bug Meghan about the tattoo she wanted, and still hasn’t gotten, and leave the two of you to your own devices. God help us all.”

Sasha, Meghan’s daughter, squealed as her brother, Cliff, chased her around the backyard. Maya followed them both with her friend Jake trailing behind her. Between the eight siblings, extended family, various friends, spouses, children, and neighbors, the barbecue was in full swing and loud as hell. He loved it. This was his family, his home. Sure, he was about fifteen minutes away from his real home, but this was where he’d grown up, where he knew he’d always have a place to return to even after living away for twenty years.

The six-bedroom house was a two-story dream for anyone with a large family. Since there were more kids than rooms, everyone, at one point or another, had shared a room with someone. It was just the way it was, and despite the fact they complained and yelled as kids do, it hadn’t killed them. His dad had built on to the house as time passed, expanding the kitchen and living areas and giving his mother the deck of her dreams. Well, that wasn’t exactly right. She’d done some of the building as well. She might have started out as Montgomery Inc.’s administrative assistant, but she learned to use a hammer and nails like the rest of them. The basic structure had remained the same, and it was perfect for them. They were on the end of a cul-de-sac but were far enough away from the actual street that they, like Austin, had plenty of land around them—something coveted in the suburbs.

Austin grinned and left his two knucklehead brothers talking to each other—most likely about him—and found Meghan in a quiet argument with her husband, Richard. Sadly, this was not the first time he’d seen it, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. She wouldn’t like him to interfere, but that would be her problem. His little sister, the eldest of three Montgomery daughters, was his blood, and that meant he had the right to protect her from the world. Even if the world included herself.

“Hey, little sister,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders. “I’ve missed seeing you around these things. You’ve been missing a few.” Subtle, Austin.

Meghan gave him a look that would have felled most men, but he was not most men. Seeming to catch herself from showing too much, she gave him a fake smile and leaned into him for a hug. She was the tallest of the M&Ms—the nickname their father had given his three daughters, Meghan, Maya, and Miranda—but still didn’t come up to his nose.

“Cliff’s soccer practices and Richard’s business parties have happened to be running at the same time as the folk’s barbecues. So we’ve been missing a few, but we’re here now.” She gave her husband a pointed look that didn’t seem to help the situation.

Richard smiled coolly at his wife before nodding toward Austin. “Yes. We’re here at the Montgomery clan barbecue. As you have enough of them, I assumed it would be fine to miss a few. Plus, we’re Warrens now. It’s okay to not show up to all of them.”

Austin clenched his teeth at his brother-in-law’s words. The bastard had been married to Meghan for eight years, and yet Austin never learned to like the man. What was there to like? A smile too fixed, hair too gelled, a look of disdain that never quite went away. In fact, Richard blatantly looked down on tattoos, blue-collar workers, and anything that remotely resembled honest manual labor.

Not that Austin would give the other man a piece of his mind. He was the father of his niece and nephew, and husband to one of the women in his life Austin loved more than anything. It wouldn’t do any good to beat the shit out of him.

It might help Austin’s mood, so he’d put that off as a maybe for later.

“Once a Montgomery, always a Montgomery,” Austin shot back with a bite.

Meghan elbowed him in the gut, and Austin let out an oof. She was stronger than her slender frame implied.

“Can you give Richard and me a moment, Austin? We were just finishing up a discussion.” Her eyes pleaded with him, and he leaned down to brush a kiss over her brow.

“Anything for you, Meghan. Remember that.”

He glared at Richard as he left and nodded at Maya and her friend Jake on his way over to Griffin and Alex. Griffin was the quietest one of the Montgomery clan, but since he was a Montgomery, he wasn’t all that quiet. Alex had recently been giving Griffin a run for his money in the quiet department. Austin didn’t know how to fix that. As the oldest Montgomery sibling, Austin felt it was his duty to take care of and protect his brothers and sisters—no matter the cost.

“What are you two doing on the sidelines of all the action?” he asked in greeting.

Alex just shrugged, his gaze off in the distance, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand rather than a beer. It was just shy of five o’clock, but considering the day his brother could have had with his job as a photographer and his wife, who hadn’t even bothered to show up, Austin wasn’t going to judge. Yet.

“We’re just watching the action,” Griffin responded, taking a drink of his own beer.

“Where’s Jessica?” Austin asked, speaking of Alex’s wife.

Alex’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t turn to meet Austin’s gaze. “Not here. As you can see.”

Austin raised a brow, and Griffin just shook his head slightly. Well, hell. Austin didn’t know how to fix this—whatever this was—but he knew if he had a chance, he’d try. He didn’t like to see this cold version of his brother, the only one who looked alone in a sea of people, which, when she was there, included his wife and high school sweetheart.

“Well, look who just showed up,” Griffin said with a smile.

Austin turned to see their friend—Griffin’s best friend in fact—Decker stroll into the backyard. His beat up leather jacket looked like it had seen better days, and his hair brushed his collar. He wasn’t a Montgomery by birth, but he was one by heart.

“Decker!” Marie Montgomery ran across the backyard and jumped into Decker’s arms.

Decker’s face broke into a smile and caught her with ease.

Austin couldn’t hear what they said to one another, but Austin knew it was only for the two of them. His mother loved Decker like one of her own, and when Decker’s father had been in prison, he stayed with the Montgomerys more often than not. Sure, Decker’s mother was still alive—barely, it seemed, after Decker’s father got through with her—but she hadn’t been strong enough to raise a boy on her own. The Montgomerys had taken him in when the law allowed, and if they could have, Austin was sure they’d have adopted him to make nine instead of eight.

“Did someone say Decker?” the youngest sibling, Miranda, asked as she came up to Austin’s side.

Austin automatically lifted his arm so she sank into his side like they’d done since she could stand. Even before then, he’d placed her on his hip and taken her around the house, the age gap between them creating a stronger bond.

“Mom found him, so don’t worry, he’ll have food in his belly soon,” Griffin teased.

“He works for Montgomery Inc. so I don’t know why you’re acting like you haven’t seen him in ages,” Alex grunted.

Miranda stuck her tongue out at Alex, acting like they were children again rather than grown and out of the house. “He’s been out of town for six weeks working on that satellite project for Wes. Now he’s back. Plus, I’m finally back from school and starting my new job, so it will be nice to have him around.”

Something about the way she said that made the hair on the back of Austin’s neck stand on end, but he didn’t have a chance to think about it too hard, as his mother let out a sharp whistle that made his teeth ache.

Well, she had to do something to wrangle eight rowdy children.

“Now that we’re all here, I want to make sure you all enjoy your food, drink, and conversation,” his mother boomed, her hand firmly in their father’s hand. “Stay as long as you’d like, eat as much as you can, and live life. Now, for my own children, we’re having a family meeting at the end, so you don’t get to go. You know I love you, so stay.” She gave them a bright—almost too bright—smile then lifted her drink. The others around them lifted their drinks in unison then began talking again—albeit a little nervously.

Austin frowned. There was something in the way she spoke that put him on alert. He looked at their father and let his gaze trace the lines on the large man’s face. Something was up, and Austin didn’t like it. He wanted these other people to leave so he could find out exactly what this family meeting was about. It wasn’t unusual to have one at these things, as it was the one time they were all in one place other than a holiday. Since it was the first one where they were all together in a long while, he hoped it was just a family meeting to reconnect, but he had a feeling it was something more. He met his siblings’ gazes one by one and knew they were feeling the same thing.

Something was off, and he didn’t know what.

It took less than two hours for people to leave, yet Austin felt like it had been years. He hadn’t been able to pry anything out of either parent, no matter how hard he tried.

He found himself wedged between Meghan and Decker on one of the couches in the living room. The rest of the family sprawled on the various other pieces of furniture while Miranda and Maya sat on the floor together, their hands firmly clasped as if they, too, knew something was wrong. It didn’t surprise Austin to find Decker within the group as he was as much a Montgomery as anyone, just as it didn’t surprise him that Richard had left with the children. Richard made it clear he wasn’t a Montgomery, but the children were Montgomerys by blood. Sure, maybe the kids didn’t need to be there for a family meeting for other reasons, but this seemed different.

“Why did Richard take the kids?” he whispered to his sister.

Meghan narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. “Don’t, Austin. Not now.” He opened his mouth to speak, and she shook her head again. “Please.”

He sighed then nodded. “For now, baby girl.” He gripped her hand, and she tangled her fingers with his.

Dad came in, his body larger than life, but something was off in the way he carried himself. Something that Austin would have caught on to sooner if he hadn’t been focused on illicit texts, a honey-haired woman he shouldn’t want, and his siblings, who meant the world to him. Harry folded himself into his armchair that had been part of the house for as long as Austin could remember. Mom followed quickly, concern in her gaze, then sat in her own chair right beside her husband.

“What is it, Mom?” Maya asked. “You’re scaring us.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the room, and Meghan’s pressure on Austin’s hand tightened.

Marie gave them a sad smile. “I’m so happy to have my babies home.”

Austin swallowed hard. “Tell us, Mom.”

Harry cleared his throat then leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him, his forearms resting on his thighs. Both of his parents were forces of nature. Neither would let the other stand alone; they either took turns in the lead or led together. That’s what made their marriage as rock solid as it was. The fact that they both looked uneasy and couldn’t form words made Austin want to bolt. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what they had to say.

Harry met each one of his children’s gazes, one by one. “Well, kids. I have cancer. Prostate cancer in fact.”

Austin’s world broke in half, the silence in the room an overwhelming vacuum of confusion, pain, and loss.

“What?” he breathed. Or he thought he had. No sound had come out, and from the lack of voices around him, his siblings were as shocked as he.

It couldn’t be. This strong man, this man who had raised them with a strong back and open heart couldn’t have cancer. Cancer killed. He knew that. Cancer couldn’t take his dad. Not now. Not ever.

“What’s the prognosis?” Decker asked, his voice devoid of emotion. Austin looked over as his friend leaned down and ran a hand over Miranda’s hair. His sister leaned into Decker’s hold, tears streaming down her face.

In fact, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room other than his and Decker’s.

He didn’t know why he wasn’t crying. It didn’t make sense. The words coming out of his father’s mouth about prognosis, treatment, and what it would mean to the family didn’t compute. He’d ask later in detail and find out how he could help, but right then, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

His father, the center of the Montgomery family, had cancer.

Nothing else mattered.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THANK you and enjoy your night out,” Sierra said with a smile. Her two middle-aged customers grinned and blushed at each other as they made their way out of Eden. Sierra held back a happy sigh at the sounds of laughter, teasing, and murmurs.

Eden was officially open for business.

It had been only two days, but those two days had been some of the best of her life. Sure, she wanted to scream, throw up, or shake uncontrollably whenever she thought of the monumental chance she was taking in opening a slightly above average boutique in the middle of downtown Denver. She’d read the statistics for opening a small business in the metro area and knew the risks and pitfalls. That didn’t mean she could just walk away. She hadn’t come from money, but she’d come from comfort. It wasn’t naive of her to think she could provide that for herself in the future as well.

Eden sold clothes for the city girl in Denver. It wasn’t a New York boutique with the odd angles and daring choices that some could pull off, but not those here in the wild west. She grinned at that. Contrary to popular belief, the only horses in the city pulled carriages and there wasn’t a five-gallon hat to be seen. Okay, maybe on that last part she lied a bit. There were a few cowboys, but none of them had said darlin’ to her in the past twenty minutes. Most of them worked the land and didn’t come near her boutique.

The clothes, lacy undergarments, and scents she sold were things she’d wear herself. Or things her two assistants, Jasinda and Becky, would wear, as they were a few years younger and had slightly different taste and body shapes. She did her best to sell clothing in a wide variety of sizes, colors, and styles. So far, from the steady stream of people who had entered her doors, she knew she’d struck a chord. If that chord continued to ring for longer than a few days, she’d happily do a jig right on the 16th Street Mall.

Her phone chirped, and she bit her lip. The morning had passed too quickly, and now her scheduled afternoon off—one the girls made her take—was upon her. She’d worked that morning and would work late into the night to make it up. Maybe she’d cancel her appointment and work some more. She couldn’t leave Eden alone when it was in its infancy. It would be irresponsible.

“Go, Sierra,” Becky said from beside her. “Jasinda and I can handle whatever comes our way. Plus, if we need you, you’ll be right across the street. You haven’t left the store but to sleep and hopefully eat for almost a week. You need to see sunlight for a moment and then do what you need to so you can feel like a human again.”

Sierra opened her mouth to start her excuses, but Jasinda, with her big red hair and her smoky eyes, shook her head. “Don’t even try to say we can’t handle it, darling. Go get your tattoo, piercing, or whatever you’re planning since you won’t tell us what it is and let us handle the register for a few hours. We all know you’ll be back in the morning to lead the charge.”

“I can’t leave Eden as soon as I opened it,” Sierra complained. “What was I thinking?”

“You’re thinking that if you don’t leave this building right now, you’re going to tire yourself out to the point you won’t be any use to us.” Becky crossed her arms over her chest. “Get a coffee from Hailey since it’s after the lunch rush then go take your appointment.”

“But what if—”

“Go, woman,” Jasinda cut her off.

She threw her hand up then picked up her purse. “Fine, but you need to come to me if there is anything wrong. You understand? Eden…Eden’s my baby.”

Jasinda gave her a small smile then leaned into her to brush a kiss over her cheek. Becky did the same on Sierra’s other side, and Sierra relaxed.

“Go,” Becky ordered. “We’ll care for your baby. It’s what you hired us to do after all.”

With one last look at her happy customers and the store that was the result of her blood, sweat, and tears, she walked out into the sunlight and made her way across the street to Montgomery Ink. She didn’t stop for coffee at Hailey’s, as she was already running on enough nerves and any caffeine would make it worse.

Sierra took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. She wasn’t on her way to the guillotine or about to walk the plank with a smarmy pirate at her back. It was only a consultation with an artist. Nothing too drastic. She wouldn’t even have to take her clothes off.

Okay, so that sounded odd even to her, but she let it go. It had been six days since she last stepped into Montgomery Ink, and once again, she found herself on the precipice of something more—something that scared the crap out of her.

Since she last saw Austin and the others, Eden had opened to the public, running her ragged. The man with blue eyes and a beard she wanted to feel on the intimate silk of her thighs filled her mind more often than she wanted him to, but she did her best to push that aside. Eden needed her full attention, and any life-altering decisions—whether about men or tattoos—had to be put on hold so she could live her dream.

Eden had been up and running for two days—and would hopefully run for much, much longer—and Sierra had an appointment with an artist she hoped could help her deal with the part of herself she’d tried to hide for so long.

When Callie put her name in their electronic appointment book, Sierra hadn’t asked which artist she’d have. From what she’d heard about the shop, she trusted all those who worked there with her skin. Or at least she tried to. Hopefully, she would find out who her artist was today and she’d start the next step in her healing. Just the thought of showing them where she needed her ink made her shudder. She wasn’t quite ready for that, but she knew she would have to be soon.

She wasn’t a coward, but dear God, she wanted to be. Just once.

“Sierra! You made it.”

Callie’s welcoming voice soothed Sierra’s nerves immediately. The other woman had such a young, vivacious energy about her, though when Sierra looked closer, she could see a bit of an old soul in those bright eyes.

She’d learned the last time she was there that Callie was Austin’s apprentice, learning art and technique, and gaining experience from, as Callie put it, the best of the best. With the way Callie seemed to bounce from word to word, Sierra thought that Austin had the best of both worlds. He could stand in the back and act all broody and rude while Callie brought in all the clients. No, that wasn’t nice. She knew from her research that Austin was a very talented artist, sought after from all over the world if reviews could be trusted. His sister Maya was much of the same.

Sierra licked her lips nervously then gave in to Callie’s exuberant hug.

“Nice to see you, Callie,” she said, trying to keep it polite considering the war within her made her stomach want to heave.

“It’s good to see you too. Your artist is almost ready for a consult, so go ahead and take a seat on one of the comfy leather couches. Can I get you a coffee or water? Maybe a juice?”

Sierra tilted her head, amused. “I’m good, thanks. Are you the Montgomery Ink receptionist as well?”

Callie blushed, shaking her head. “We keep running out of those. We hire college kids mostly who need to pay for their tuition at UCD or the other Auraria campuses right off Spear Boulevard, but they get flaky over time between deadlines, parties, and the fact that the campus just built a freaking dorm right off the highway.” Callie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we’re between receptionists right now so I’m doing my best. Hopefully, Austin and Maya will hire someone soon so they don’t have to deal with the Mac of Doom.”

Sierra’s eyebrows rose. “Mac of Doom?”

Callie gestured toward the computer on the corner desk, leaning over to whisper. “Maya bought that because she wanted everything on the desk or whatever instead of a whole tower, and now no one knows how to use it. If you ask me, you should say goodbye soon because, between Sloane and Austin, there might be an ‘accident’.”

Sierra snorted then took a seat. “Poor guys.”

“Hey, poor me. I’m the one who has to fix whatever they mess up. Now if you’re sure you don’t need anything, I’m going to go work on a sketch for tomorrow’s client. Your artist will be by in a bit.”

It wasn’t lost on her that Callie still had not mentioned the artist’s name. Maybe it was an artist-temperament thing. Sierra’s gaze traveled over the large room where eight stations sat against walls filled with artwork—photos, paintings, sketches, and a few ceramics and metal sculptures. There were a couple of people Sierra didn’t immediately know, but she’d seen Sloane and Maya around enough to know them by their faces. Each of them was working intently on their client. Sloane had his head down over a middle-aged man’s thigh, working with a red color that mixed with his blood. The sight made Sierra a bit queasy, so she turned her attention to Maya. Austin’s sister flicked her tongue ring in and out of her mouth as she focused on the line work on her client’s foot.

Just the thought of someone digging a needle into her foot made Sierra wince. No thank you, not for her first tattoo. First? Was she planning on getting a second or third? Maybe she should just focus on getting through this first one without passing out or weeping uncontrollably.

“Callie?” she asked before the other woman headed off completely. “Who is my artist?”

“That would be me.”

Sierra’s heart sped up, and she clamped her thighs together at the deep rumble of Austin’s voice. Oh no. Austin couldn’t be her artist. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if this man had his hands on her. She didn’t him want to see exactly where she wanted her ink. That was too personal. Too personal for a man that invaded her space by just breathing. She also reminded herself she didn’t even like him. He was a rude, overbearing oaf. It didn’t matter that her body seemed to want him.

Her mind did not.

“Okay then, I’ll leave you both to it.” Callie ran away, and Sierra narrowed her eyes at the woman. Oh, Callie knew exactly what she was doing.

Great.

“I thought you told me to leave,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to whisper, but it was all she’d been able to force out.

Austin nodded, his eyes full of pain. Pain she hadn’t seen before in those deep blue eyes. She would have remembered.

“I apologize for the way I acted before. Shannon, the woman who was leaving as you came in, put my back up, and I acted harshly.”

Surprised he admitted to his rudeness, she could only forgive him. After all, she wanted—no, needed—to know what had put that broken look on his face. She wasn’t vain enough to think it was about her and his need to apologize. No, this was about something far deeper.

“I’m sorry for my words when I first walked in. I’ve heard great things about Montgomery Ink, and I want a tattoo, not to judge who gets one.” There. She’d said it.

Austin nodded but didn’t smile, didn’t do much of anything. “Come on to my station in the back, and we can talk about what you’d like.” Again, his voice was devoid of emotion. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something there, something that made her yearn to reach out to him and make it better.

She took a seat on the bench he offered her as he sat down on a stool, picking up a sketchpad and pencil. “Tell me what you’d like.”

Sierra searched his face, unable to focus on any type of design. “What’s wrong, Austin? What’s put such sadness in your eyes?”

She cursed herself for asking such a deeply personal question of a man she didn’t know, but there was something there, a connection she had no right feeling.

Austin blinked then swallowed hard. Her gaze traced the long line of his throat and his beard. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You just look so sad, and I wanted to know if there was anything I can do. Silly, right? I don’t even know you.”

Austin set down the sketchpad and pencil, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not in the right frame of mind to draw anyway. Or, rather, I’m in the perfect mindset if you think about it. I know you came here for a consult, and I’ll get to that. Soon. Okay.” He met her gaze, that agony a sharp slice across her heart. “My dad has cancer. He told us the day after you walked out of here, and I haven’t been able to deal with it. I don’t know if I can.”

Sierra sucked in a breath and gripped his hand, the shock of the connection surprising her, but she pushed past it, thoughts of Austin’s family in the forefront of her mind.

“I’m so sorry, Austin. Oh God, I had no idea it was something like that. I know my words are paltry, but I’ll be thinking of your father and the rest of you. I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Her eyes filled with tears for the man in front of her and the man who’d raised him, a man she’d never met but knew Austin cared for a great deal.

Austin cupped her cheek, an action that startled them both. “Thank you, Sierra.” He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat. “He’ll be okay. He has to be. And if I only focus on just him and what’s going on, I won’t be able to function, so let’s talk about your ink.”

Her cheek was still warm from his touch, and she wanted more. Wanted his hands on her, wanted his gaze on her as she undressed for him. She wanted to kneel at his feet as he brushed her hair back, letting her know everything was okay.

She pulled back at that thought. That wasn’t her anymore. Those thoughts weren’t hers. They couldn’t be. She’d grown from the woman she’d been with Jason, and she couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, be that woman with Austin. He was the one who would lay ink on her skin, not lay claim to it.

That was if she could find the courage to do so in the first place.

“Sierra? Your ink? Callie said something about flowers, but that means so many things. I need to know more.”

She sucked in a breath, her lower lip trembling. “I…I want daisies on my right side. I don’t know how many, or how large or even what color, but I need them to…cover up, or rather go around, something.”

Austin furrowed his brow. “I’m covering up other ink?”

She shook her head. “This is my first tattoo.”

Austin gripped her hand softly, his touch soothing, calming, an anchor. “What am I covering up, Sierra?” His voice had lowered, as if he was talking to a frightened lamb on the edge of a precipice.

Though that was an apt description at the moment, she didn’t want to be that person.

Not anymore.

“I have a couple scars.” Oh, what a lie, but she’d tell the whole of it soon. She’d need to. “I’m…I’m not ready to show them to you yet, so I know you can’t design anything.”

Austin squeezed her hand, and she cursed herself.

Jesus she was an idiot.

“I’m wasting your time today, Austin and I’m sorry for it. I thought I’d take it one step at a time, but that was stupid. You’d need to see my side so you can design.”

Austin nodded then pulled back. “If you’re not ready to show me, then we can take it one slow step at a time. I don’t mind, Sierra. I will say that doing a cover-up on scars isn’t possible, not in most cases. It’s an art form in itself that we don’t do too much of here unless we know the scars and can trust your ink won’t fuck up in the future because of them. The skin that’s scarred is too different and puckered usually, and the ink will end up spreading out over the scar, rather than being where we wanted it in the first place. However, we can do something around the scars.”

“I researched that. But your time is valuable.”

“So is your recovery and healing.”

Touched, she blinked up at him, licking her lips. “Then what can we do today?”

He grinned at her then, his eyes filling with a touch of laughter for the first time since she’d walked in. That alone made her feel as if coming in that day was worth it.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll trace your side so I can get an idea of the size of canvas we’ll be working with. Then I’ll work on a few daisy types and show you the next time you come in. Hopefully by then, I’ll be able to see exactly what you mean by scars, and then we can move on to the next step.”

Her hands shook, but she nodded, knowing in order to fully do what she wanted she’d need to show him. It was a no-brainer, but it still didn’t make it any easier.

“That sounds like a plan then.”

“I can tell you want ink, Sierra. If you didn’t, then we wouldn’t be sitting here. I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready. And when we do start actually tattooing, and even when you show me your scars, I’ll put up the curtain we have so it’s just you and me. No one else. What do you say?”

That idea appealed more to her than it should have, and she nodded readily.

“Okay then, stand up and lift your arm. Show me exactly how large you’re thinking and then I’ll trace you. Like I said, I won’t know exactly what I will be doing until I see everything. Even if this is just for show today, it’s still a step. You know?” He met her gaze. “That means I’ll have to put my hands on you. You okay with that?”

More than okay.

Instead of saying that, she nodded again and stood.

She turned so her side faced Austin and she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. As soon as he put his hands on her, she jumped.

“Steady, Legs, I’m not going to bite,” he teased. “Well, not unless you ask me to.”

Despite herself, she snorted. “Stop calling me Legs.” It was insulting…and made her want to dissolve in a puddle at his feet. Damn the man.

“I like the look of your legs, so I’m going to keep doing it. Now, how big are we thinking?”

Big. Thick and long.

Wait, that wasn’t what he was asking.

Austin gave a deep chuckle. “I can see from your face where your mind went, and yes, big is a good word for it. However, I was talking about your tattoo.”

Sierra refused to meet his gaze but lifted her chin. “Confident of yourself. And I’m thinking the entire ribcage, side of my stomach, and down over my hips.” Her scar covered most of that, but since she would have to have ink around it, she wanted something to remember. Something that was worth the pain and memories.

“That’s big, but I think with your curves there, it’s going to look great. So hold tight and let me trace you.”

The pencil traced over her side, and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. They both gasped, but neither commented. They needed to stay professional for both their sakes. His calloused fingers pressed through her shirt and she held back a sigh. She had recovered most of the feeling in her side, and his hands were so large, so…male…that she new she’d never forget his touch.

“Ride with me.”

Sierra turned, confused. “What?”

Austin gazed into her eyes, intense. “Ride with me. On my bike in the mountains.”

Sierra broke out into a cold sweat. Visions of flames, the squeal of tires, and the smell of burnt flesh caused her knees to give out.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” Austin murmured, his hands on her hips then her cheeks. “You don’t have to ride with me, not if you’re going to react like that. You don’t have to tell me why, but you can if you want. I’ll listen.”

She sucked in a breath, embarrassed for reacting like that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Sierra.”

Damn it. She didn’t want to be locked away in her past, unable to take a step into any kind of future. Eden had been a step, as had coming into Montgomery Ink, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

She needed to be a big girl and learn to breathe again.

Her gaze met Austin’s concerned one, and she swallowed hard. “Yes, Austin. Yes, I’ll ride with you.”

He looked like he didn’t believe her, but she’d show him. She was ready to move on, even if she had to force herself. She wouldn’t be hidden and caged. Not anymore.

If Austin could help her, well, then she’d take that step.

Finally.

CHAPTER FIVE

SHEP MONTGOMERY IGNORED the dagger eyes aimed at him, taking it as par for the course with this particular client. When Lisette came in for any ink, her man, Mathieu, came with her. And by came with her, Shep meant guarded her like a pit bull and practically growled at Shep for daring to touch his woman.

With a roll of his eyes, he cleaned off leftover ink and plasma so he could finish the shading on the koi fish. Lisette had come in with those flirty eyes of hers and her easy smile, begging Shep to draw a koi surrounded by a field of flowers and cool water over her hip and thigh. Shep loved working with her since she was so easy to please once they got the right design.

Shep guessed that Mathieu would cheerfully rip Shep’s arms off for where he had to place his hands during the process. And Shep knew his own wife, Shea, would probably do the same thing if anyone touched him like that. Actually, Shep might hurt anyone who thought they could ink Shea too, so he didn’t blame Mathieu in the slightest.

“You feeling good, Lisette?” Shep asked, his attention on his final shading and not on the man looming over the both of them. Seriously, Mathieu was one big motherfucker.

“Mmm,” she hummed, and Shep had to smile. He loved it when his clients fell into the bliss that was tattooing rather than tensed up the entire time. Lisette was a pro at this.

He added one last stroke then wiped the area, sitting back to appreciate his work. “All done. You need help up to see it in the mirror?”

“I’ve got her,” Mathieu grumbled.

Shep held back a brighter smile. He’d known that’s what the big man would say, but he liked to egg him on anyway.

Lisette let out a little gasp, and Shep knew his work was done. They went over the aftercare instructions that he knew she was aware of since she had a half sleeve of flowers already, but he never let anyone leave Midnight Ink without hearing it and agreeing to it on Shep’s terms. As he watched Mathieu carefully walk his woman out of the shop, Shep bounced on his feet, antsy to get back to his own woman. Lisette was his last full client of the day, and after he finished the next consultation with Chavon, one of his favorite people in the world, he’d be able to go home to his wife.

His wife.

He’d never get used to that, but God, he loved the sound of it. They’d courted quickly, got engaged even faster, and then married at the justice of the peace because they couldn’t wait any longer. He’d thought Shea would have wanted the big wedding with the even bigger dress, flowers and all the trappings, but he was wrong. It’d been Shea who wanted the small wedding in the little office so she could call him her own. She’d been the one to pull him from the coffee house on the warm day with a smile on her face. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

He’d do anything for her, and saying ‘I do’ in that cramped office was only the small part of it.

By the time he finished the consult for Chavon’s latest ink—this one not on her ass contrary to what her man thought Shep did only when it came to her—he was beyond ready to head home to Shea.

“Say hi to Shea for me,” Sassy, the Midnight Ink receptionist and one of his closest friends said as he packed up.

“Will do,” he said back. “And don’t tire your men out too much.” Sassy was engaged to not one man, but two—Rafe and Ian—who thought she was the center of their universe. “Let me know when you have a date for the wedding. Shea’s been asking.”

Sassy nodded, an odd light coming into her eyes, and turned away. He sighed, knowing he’d have to deal with that if she’d let him. That was a big if.

He said goodbye to his ‘family’ at Midnight, then headed home, that odd gnawing in his gut coming back. There was something up with Shea, and he couldn’t figure it out. They hadn’t been married long enough for him to learn every tic and look, but he was enjoying figuring them out. However, he knew something was wrong. She didn’t act any differently. She’d still smile brightly at him, but sometimes, it would be a little too bright. Her normal, quiet personality hadn’t changed, and she truly let herself go only when it was just the two of them. She was ice to his fire, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. But he needed her to be happy.

He’d figure it out. He always did.

As soon as he stepped into the house, he opened his arms, and Shea rocketed herself against him like she did every evening. Seriously. Best. Thing. Ever. He hoped this would remain something they did every day no matter how old or busy they eventually became. Okay, so maybe when he was older, he might break a hip doing it, but it’d be worth it. He worked later hours than Shea because he started later in the day, so she was always home first. If it had been the other way around, he knew they’d end up in the same embrace. He inhaled that sweet scent of hers, crushing her to his body then slanting his mouth over hers. She tasted of tea and grapes.

“God, I love you, Shea Montgomery.”

He’d never get over hearing her new last name. The name, however antiquated the practice of her taking his name, reminded them both that she was his…and he was hers.

Shea pulled back, breathless. “I love you too, Shep.”

She smiled, but it took a second longer to reach her eyes than it should have.

There. There was something in her eyes. Something wrong. He’d asked her about it before, and she’d waved it off, saying he was just seeing things. He wouldn’t ask again. No, he’d find it out on his own. He’d just do his best to make her happy no matter what. He’d hate to think he was failing at this marriage thing right out the gate. That was not something he would allow.

“I was just getting everything out for dinner. Want to help?”

He kissed her nose then nodded. They cooked dinner together most nights, the dance around the counters as their bodies brushed against one another a type of foreplay that made the rest of their nights even better.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out, one arm still around Shea. “It’s Austin,” he said after looking at the screen.

“Answer it,” Shea said. He’d introduced Austin to her when they were dating, and the two of them hit it off easily.

“Hey, bro’, what’s up?” Shep kissed the top of Shea’s head as they made their way to the kitchen.

“Hey, do you think you can come up to Denver for a bit? You and Shea.”

Shep froze, squeezing Shea’s arm at Austin’s tone. The other man’s voice didn’t sound like the warm, yet broody man he’d grown up with. Something was off. Shea looked up at him at his touch, worry in her gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his throat choking up.

Austin sighed. “I…shit. I don’t know how to say this. Damn it. I shouldn’t have to say this at all. It’s not fair.” He took a deep breath while Shep held his. “Dad has cancer, man.”

Shep staggered back, using Shea as support. “What? You’re serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” Austin said softly. “He’s starting treatment soon, and I think he’d like you there. You and Shea. He’s never met her, you know,” he said, stating the obvious.

He swallowed hard, blinking away the tears in his eyes. Shep’s parents had moved to Oregon when he moved to New Orleans over a decade ago, but he’d grown up in the big mess of Montgomerys in Denver. The idea that bigger-than-life Harry was sick just didn’t compute.

There really was only one answer to give.

“I’ll be up there as soon as I can, for as long as I can, Austin. You can count on me.”

Austin let out a breath, and Shep wanted to reach through the phone and grip his cousin hard. “Thanks, man. You can stay at Griffin’s place since he has the guesthouse. You and Shea. That way you both have some privacy for as long as you need it. I have the guest room, but I know y’all are newlyweds and all that shit. I don’t know why I’m even rambling on like this, but fuck. I’m lost, man. I…I know all the siblings are here, but I could use you too. You know?”

Shep sucked in a breath then kissed Shea’s temple. “Anything, Austin. You know it. We’ll make the arrangements, and I’ll get back to you on the when.”

“Thanks, Shep.”

“See you soon, cousin, and breathe, okay? Harry…Harry’s stronger than all of us.”

“That’s what I thought too. See you soon.”

His cousin hung up, and Shep stared at the phone in his hand. Shit. Harry had cancer. Fucking cancer. That didn’t make any sense. Cancer wasn’t supposed to touch his family. It was something that happened to others and he donated money for treatments and cures. Crass and cruel, but that’s how his mind dealt with the things that made no sense while tearing a hole in his gut. He didn’t know how to work with this.

“I heard most of that, baby.” Shea cupped his face, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry. Let me call work and take time off. What I can’t take off, I can do from my computer anywhere I go. Then I’ll look up plane fare and all of that. We’ll stay in Denver as long as we can. Okay?”

He kissed her then, his lips a soft caress before sinking into her fully. She moaned into him even as their tears mixed together.

“I love you, Shea. Never leave me. Please. Just be by side forever.”

His wife licked her lips even as that odd light shot over her eyes again before she blinked, clearing her gaze. “Of course, Shep. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He held her close, knowing that he needed to be strong for Austin, for Shea, for Harry, for the lot of them. He might be only a cousin in this, but he was family. He and Shea would head up to Denver and do what they could. And while he was there, he’d find out what was up with his wife. There was only so much a man could take, and he didn’t want there to be anything between them that could harm their relationship.

Life was too short for the kind of pain that could be healed.

CHAPTER SIX

AUSTIN GRIPPED SIERRA’S HIPS, keeping her steady as she blinked up at him, her gaze drunk with pleasure, but still on him. Only him. He licked his lips and could practically taste her sweetness on his tongue. God, he couldn’t wait to have the sweet cream on his taste buds.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, Legs,” he growled, his body shaking as he fought for control.

“Take me.” She lifted her chest, her breasts standing out like a succulent feast. Her nipples looked like fucking ripe berries in the clamps he’d put her in, begging for his tongue.

Austin let his cock drag along her swollen pussy, taking in that quick catch of her breath. His gaze traced her breasts then up to where he’d tied each of her arms to the bedposts using the brand-new rope he’d bought her.

Seriously the best image ever.

He couldn’t wait to plunge deep within her and have that tight pussy of hers clench his cock, milking him down to the last drop. Just as he pulled back, his eyes opened, and he cursed himself.

Great. A dream. Another fucking dream.

And he spent on his stomach before getting to the good part.

Austin rolled out of bed, his body groaning from a restless sleep and vivid dreams. Thankfully, he slept naked so there would be less clean-up, considering he dreamed like a thirteen-year-old boy. He staggered back, his body not quite awake and in desperate need of coffee. He pulled on the sheets, careful not to get any of his mess back on him.

He stumbled naked to the laundry room and stuffed the sheets into the washer, starting it and adding the soap with one eye open. He’d probably regret doing this half-awake later, but he had enough experience cleaning his own clothes he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t end up with water and soap on the floor. Maybe.

Damn it. He couldn’t believe he’d come in his dreams like a young kid first learning the shape of a woman. He was almost forty for God’s sake. Apparently he didn’t need a little pill to put a hop in his step and a mess in his sheets when he had Sierra and those long legs of hers on his mind.

At the moment he’d rather have them around his hips as he drove into her.

His cock filled again, and he cursed himself. Really? It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and he already had another hard-on after coming in his sleep because of a fucking dream. It was just one more reason he needed to get laid and get a rein on that control he was so famous for.

With a sigh, he jumped in the shower, ignored his aching cock, and then made a cup of coffee. Thankfully, today was his day off and he didn’t have anywhere special to be. Normally he’d go for a ride on his bike up into the mountains and maybe even to Estes Park, but he wasn’t in the mood. Decker would be over later that day for food and beer, and on any other week, his brother in everything but blood would ride with him on his own bike. This week, this month, though, was different. Neither of them had gone riding since they heard about Harry’s cancer.

Shit.

Cancer.

Austin still couldn’t wrap his head around that. He’d buried his head in the sand actually. While the rest of his family had either tried to not leave his folk’s sides or done as much research as they could, Austin had stayed away, saying he’d be there if anyone needed him.

Fuck, that made him an ass.

He was just too freaking scared to look up things like treatments, prognoses, and other medical terms that left him in a cold sweat at just the thought. He was the oldest brother, the oldest Montgomery kid, yet he was failing.

Austin rubbed the area over his heart with his fist then went to his porch to watch the sun finish rising. He loved his house and his views. He had a wraparound porch so he could see the sun rise or set depending on where he sat. Here, he could ignore what went on around him and focus on absolutely nothing, a fucking ridiculous way to live.

He needed to get his head out of his ass and think about what was actually going on in his family. He needed to stop dreaming about a woman who looked so scared at having anyone touch her skin she practically bolted like a frightened rabbit at his gaze alone.

Austin sat there for another hour, finishing his coffee and feeling the cool mountain air slowly warm as the sun rose higher.

His phone buzzed on the corner table on his deck, and he picked it up, his heart racing. What if it was his parents telling him something worse? Shit. Thinking about what was coming rather than actually putting together a plan was making him crazy. First thing after Decker left, or maybe even when the man was there, he’d do his research. It wasn’t like him to be so out of it when things mattered. He hated himself for putting himself into this situation in the first place. There was no point in worrying himself sick over nightmares with no evidence. He had a feeling that once he really went into it he might have even more nightmares.

His father deserved every ounce of Austin’s strength and determination, however. And hiding in his house wasn’t what Austin had been raised to do.

Without looking at the screen, he answered the phone and immediately regretted it.

“Austin, baby.”

He was so over this. So fucking over. “Shannon. Stop calling. I tried to be nice, but we broke up months ago. A mutual decision I might add. I’m not normally such an asshole, but if you don’t stop clinging and practically stalking me, I’m going to have to take action.” Calling the cops for a stalker? Not what he wanted to do, but Shannon wouldn’t leave him the hell alone no matter what he’d done to stop her. He’d never fight with a woman physically, so he’d have to give up and have someone else deal with it for him.

“We had something, baby. Please. Please don’t leave me, sugar.”

Austin closed his eyes and pinched his nose. “No, we didn’t, and we both know it. You loved me even less than I loved you. Which was next to nothing.” Harsh, but the truth. “Find yourself someone you can actually love and care for, and find that future you want, Shannon. It’s not me.” At her silence, Austin sighed. “Goodbye, Shannon.”

He pressed End on his phone, but he had a feeling he wasn’t through with whatever she wanted. He just hoped she didn’t take it any further than she already had.

His morning even more tainted now, he got up off his chair on the deck and made his way inside. His house was situated on the edge of a small ravine; even though he couldn’t really see his neighbors, they were there. He actually lived in a cul-de-sac with a dirt road at the end that led to his two-story house. Well, two stories and a full basement that could be seen on the back end since his house was on a slope. The entire two top floors on the back end that faced the ravine were all glass so he could see a closer foothill, some of the Rockies, and any wildlife that found themselves walking about.

He loved it. He got city and country all in one with just his house. Plus, he could blare his music up as high as he wanted and not have a problem.

After he ate breakfast, he went through his normal day off routine of cleaning and puttering around. He might live alone, but he didn’t want to deal with the mess of it all. He wasn’t as much of a clean freak as some of his family members, but he liked to be somewhat clutter-free.

As he checked his mail, he put the bills aside for later then went through the rest of it, throwing out the junk mail that seemed to accumulate faster than even the bills. On top was a thick envelope from a company he didn’t recognize, and he frowned. A lawyer? Maybe it was for the shop or even Montgomery Inc. Given all the Montgomerys, sometimes people sent things to the wrong addresses. Luckily his immediate family lived close enough that it wasn’t a problem to hand the mail to whomever it belonged.

“Austin, you around?”

Decker walked in without knocking, and Austin set the mail aside. He’d deal with whatever it was later.

“I’m in the kitchen. You want coffee?”

Decker strolled in, wearing his worn jeans low on his hips and a black cotton T-shirt that looked like it’d seen better days. Austin looked down at his own clothes and snorted.

Apparently they’d be twins that day.

Black T-shirts and worn jeans were their uniforms—days off or no.

“Coffee. Please. I only had enough for one cup at home and wasn’t about to spend five dollars on bitter coffee on the way here.”

Austin rolled his eyes. “You drink Starbucks and Hailey’s coffee all the time. Don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Decker’s brows rose. “I did not just hear you call Hailey’s coffee bitter.”

Austin winced as he poured a cup for Decker. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant Starbucks. Crap. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Decker grinned, taking the cup then blowing over it. “What’ll you give me for my silence?”

Austin flipped him off. “I won’t kick your ass.”

“You can try, old man.”

“You’re getting closer to the big number, too.”

Decker grinned. “I’m twenty-nine. You’re thirty-eight. Those are two different big numbers, bro. Just saying.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks. I prefer my bedmates with a little less chest hair.”

Austin grinned. “Only a little less? Is there something you should tell me? You know we’d all love you no matter your preference.”

Decker groaned. “Shut up.”

Austin rolled his eyes then went to his living room, knowing Decker would follow when he wanted. There would be a game on so they’d relax and do nothing. Maybe research if he got up the nerve, but nothing too taxing.

In reality, Decker was Griffin’s best friend, but Austin got along with the younger man just as well. Decker had been living with his family off and on for most of his teens so he’d become close to every Montgomery. As evidenced from that conversation that had changed their lives, he was included in family meetings as well without a second thought.

“So I hear Shep and Shea are on their way to Denver?” Decker asked after a few moments of peaceful silence.

“Yeah. I called him up and asked for them to come.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but it clearly did to all of them more than they wanted to admit. “Dad hasn’t met Shea yet, and though Shep’s parents are in Oregon now and he’s been in New Orleans for going on ten years, Denver is home.”

“I get it, man. He’s needed here, even if it’s just for a smile and a hug. Besides, I can’t wait to meet the woman who tied Shep down.”

Austin ran his tongue over his teeth. “I would’ve thought Shep would be doing the tying.”

“Ha ha,” Decker said dryly. “You know he isn’t into kink as much as we are. But I meant with the marriage thing.”

Decker wasn’t wrong when it came to kink, but the idea of marriage being a burden? Austin wasn’t sure about that anymore. Not that he’d recently had a good experience with women, considering Shannon was his latest girlfriend.

Sierra came to mind, and he frowned. He hardly knew the woman, and yet her face came to mind when he thought of forever. Not something he wanted to think too hard about. Or did he?

“What’s that frown for?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Marriage, I guess.”

Decker whistled softly. “Thinking about giving up the single life then?”

Austin slid Decker a look. “You’re complaining a bit much about marriage if you ask me. Don’t tell me you’re planning on living the single life forever?”

Decker shrugged then looked away uncomfortably. “You know where I came from, Austin. You think I really want to force that on a woman I love?”

Austin cursed under his breath. “You won’t become your father if you marry someone, Deck. Your dad’s a drunk, abusive asshole, but you aren’t. You’ve never raised your hand to a woman, and you never would.”

Decker shook his head. “And that’s the crowning example of what a man I am? Or why I should be married? Mom always said Dad never hit her when they were dating. It came afterward.”

Austin stood up, towering over Decker. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Your dad was always a mean son of a bitch, and you know it.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No I wasn’t, but you don’t just grow into that kind of mean overnight.” Austin sighed then gentled his voice. “You’re not your father, Deck.”

Decker met his gaze. “And you’re more yours than you know. Have you talked to Harry since he told us he was sick?”

Austin looked away, the twisted ball of guilt in his stomach rolling at the change of subject. “No,” he muttered.

“Fuck, Austin. Talk to him. He’s going to be okay, damn it. We aren’t going to lose him to this. He’s starting treatment in two weeks since they had to wait until the next cycle started and had to get him ready for it. He’s not alone, not with all of us around him, but you can’t hide from him. Got me?”

Austin nodded then went to the couch, resting his head in his hands. “What if he doesn’t make it, Deck? What if he’s not strong enough?”

“He’s the strongest man we know.”

“Yeah? Did you see him in that living room? I’ve never seen him look like that. He looked so…small.”

Decker let out a breath as they sat there in silence. Austin hadn’t voiced his fears to anyone yet, though he’d almost done so to Sierra in the shop when she’d begun to voice her own. Decker would listen to him and not rail on him too hard. Or maybe just hard enough for what he needed. If Austin spoke to any of his siblings about his thoughts, well, he wasn’t sure what would happen. He needed to be the strong one like he’d always been, and right then, he wasn’t acting like it.

And he hated it.

“Don’t kill your father, Austin. He’s not dead. He’s not going to fucking die. We’re going to beat this, and then we’re going to kick your ass for putting him in the grave before you even talked to him.”

“Fuck you, Decker. I’m not killing him. How could you even say that?”

Decker met his gaze, a fire in his eyes Austin didn’t quite understand. “You’re thinking about the worst before letting what’s in front of you happen. That’s a kind of killing in my book.”

Austin ran his hand over his face. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes. Yes, you are. But you’re also a scared idiot. What do you say for dinner we head to your folk’s? You know they won’t care if we just show up. We can talk to them about plans and things. You know they’ll want to see you, and I’ll be there if you need to run.”

Austin raised a brow. “I’ll call Mom just in case. They might not care if we just show up, but she’ll like us better if we give her notice.”

“Sounds good to me. So, you want to tell me what else is going on? You’re wound tight like a spring right now.”

Austin shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. What’s up? Is it that Shannon woman? She still giving you shit?”

He groaned, thinking of her phone call that morning. “That’s part of it. She won’t take a hint. Hell, that’s not right. I’ve given her more than a hint. I don’t know what her problem is. She didn’t like me this much when we were dating, and the fact that I have to keep telling her no is making me feel like an ass.”

“You are an ass.”

He flipped his friend off. “Shut up. She’ll find someone else she actually likes and get off my case soon. I just don’t like feeling like I did something to hurt her when we were dating when we all know that wasn’t the case.”

“She’s just bored, and we all know it,” Decker added. “You said she was only part of it. So what else is there? Oh wait, is it that honey-brown-haired woman who opened… What’s the name of that shop? Eden?” At Austin’s arch look, Decker grinned. “Maya was telling me about her. She said while you started off as your normal, overbearing self, the second time this woman came in, you were all soft growls and soothing words.”

“Your words or Maya’s?” He didn’t like the idea of Maya talking about him and Sierra as if there was a him and Sierra. Thankfully, his sister didn’t know about the date or ride or whatever they had called it coming up. For some reason, he wasn’t ready to share Sierra.

That made him a bit uneasy, but he’d live through it.

“Maya’s of course, and from the look on your face, you’re not ready to talk about her. Well, shit, I had planned on coming over here to talk to you about the scene, and now you’re in knots over a woman. Very cool.”

“I’m not in knots over her.” Lies, but he wasn’t about to tell Decker that. “And what about the scene? I haven’t been to a club in ages, Decker. and I know you haven’t either. That’s not really me.”

Decker leaned forward. “I thought you just needed to get laid or at least use that pent-up energy to help a sub in need. But maybe I was wrong.”

Austin ran a hand over his face. He and Decker, as did other Montgomerys and their friends, had a kink of their own. When he was younger, he used to take to the scene and help subs who wanted subspace for the night or to feel his floggers. It was a connection that worked inside the club alone, and he’d never had a sub outside the place. That wasn’t for him.

Austin sighed. "I’m not the club guy. I'm not a Dominant in my every day life. I'm my own type of man. I like sex how I like it. If that happens to be with me telling her what I want, sure. If that means I want to flog her because that's what she wants, perfect. That’s who I am. I like what I like.”

“I know, man. But it’s something to think about.”

Austin let out a breath. Yeah, it was. But he couldn’t get Sierra out of his mind, and she couldn’t even show him the skin she wanted inked. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he damn sure didn’t know what she wanted.

What he was sure of was he needed to get off his ass and start being the Montgomery he was meant to be. That meant taking care of his family and, if things worked out, Sierra as well. He had a feeling she wasn’t going anywhere, and for some reason, Austin perked up at that thought.

Only time would tell, but Austin couldn’t wait.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE DREAM STARTED out like it always did. In each instance, Sierra knew when she was dreaming, just like she always knew she’d never be able to pull herself out of it. She lived through each agonizing cry, each burn, each break over and over again then woke up screaming.

Her dream-self wrapped her arms around Jason’s waist, her head resting on his back. Her helmet blocked the feel of him from her cheek, but that was okay. She could still feel his warmth through their leather jackets. That alone calmed her.

It shouldn’t have.

Sierra knew that.

The dream never ended well.

He reached down with his free hand and squeezed her hands clasped on his belly. She sighed happily, even as, in the back of her mind, she knew this was it. This was how it all ended.

The screech of tires came first then the pounding along her head, the searing pain on her side. Screams came from deep within and around her. She didn’t know which was which anymore. Fire licked across her skin, and even though this was a dream, the memory of each nerve ending bursting in pain came back, and she felt it all again.

She sucked in a breath, reaching out to Jason’s limp form, praying this time it would be different. Praying this time he’d wake up.

Only it wouldn’t happen.

It never did.

Two figures stood above her, their faces in shadow. They hadn’t been there the night she died inside and didn’t play a part in every dream she faced.

They poured gasoline over her body, the smaller shadow lighting a match. In that instant of light, she saw the narrowed eyes, the rage and pain held within that gaze manifesting into a nightmare she’d never shake.

As the match dropped and her body caught fire, she woke up, her chest pounding, her sweat-slick body shaking so much she thought she’d fall out of bed.

On unsteady legs, she made her way to the bathroom. She barely had time to flip open the toilet lid before she emptied her stomach, the acid burning up her throat. By the time her nerves settled, she was sure she’d lost any food she’d had the day before and the only thing she’d do next was dry heave. God, how she hated that.

She flushed the toilet, wiped the lid with a bleach wipe she had on hand, then stood on somewhat steadier legs. After she brushed her teeth and washed her face with cool water, she was finally ready to wake up fully.

The nightmares had plagued her for years with the latter part of the dream showing up more often than not recently. Those shadows had been the reason she’d left for Edgewater and Denver to begin with. Not that she’d voice that aloud. She didn’t want to say she’d run from her problems, but staying there and taking them with no ability to defeat them hadn’t helped her. It had only made things so unbearable she’d been unable to heal fully.

Not that she was sure she’d ever be able to heal.

Her fingers skimmed the puckered skin and pale white lines along her side, but now that she was free of the chains that had bound her for so long, she might be able to find a way to live with the scars that marred her body as well as her soul.

She met her gaze in the mirror and cursed herself for trying to push herself too hard too fast. Wasn’t it enough that she’d moved to a new place? She’d opened a business, one she loved that would hopefully succeed. She even went to her consult with Austin for a tattoo to help ink around the scar that had marked her for so long.

Yet Austin was precisely the problem.

He’d stepped on her toes and pushed something within her to the front. She wanted him, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She wasn’t ready for a man so large, so strong when she knew she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Then he’d asked to take her for a ride, and she panicked like someone had thrown her into a tank full of sharks. He’d seen the pain in her eyes, the panic in her gaze, and hadn’t thought twice about taking back his offer. He must think she was weak, though he hadn’t said as much. She hated being weak. She’d been that way for so long she wasn’t sure how to be anything else.

At least that’s how it seemed.

Damn it. She wasn’t that person anymore, but she also knew her limits. Going on a ride wasn’t on the list of things she needed to do right then. The nightmares had gotten worse in the days since Austin mentioned it. Maybe once she got her tattoo and Eden had been open for longer than a week, she’d be able to do it. Throwing herself into fifty changes at once wasn’t helping anyone. She might be the type of person who needed to raise her chin and get on with life, but she knew better than anyone when enough was enough.

She’d just call Austin and cancel the ride.

The sliver of disappointment that slid through her surprised her. Was it the idea of riding itself that she wanted? Or the fact she’d have to wrap herself around Austin’s strong body in the process?

Her breasts ached at the thought, her nipples hardening.

Austin was a big man with an even bigger presence. The idea that after so long being alone and not finding another man she wanted made her think. Throw in the fact this man was so attractive physically and emotionally that she wanted more than a casual date or two and she was a goner...

It wasn’t that Austin wasn’t good enough for her—God no. She wasn’t the type who thought beards, tattoos, and the dangerous look of leather were somehow a representation of who a person was. In the grand scheme of things, it honestly didn’t matter, but she also knew that Austin had more hidden depths than she was ready to deal with.

In her mind, she could feel his calloused hands on her skin, the roughness of his beard on her inner thighs as he feasted on her. She let out a shaky breath. She needed to keep Austin out of the forefront of her mind. She had so many other things to think about, to worry about, that wanting Austin in her bed and in her life shouldn’t be so high on the list.

She also knew Austin had his own worries. She’d never met the senior Montgomery, but her heart ached for him and his family. Cancer was such a scary word, and even though the media talked about it now more than they had before, the public still didn’t know enough about it to truly understand.

She’d done some research on prostate cancer when Austin told her about his father. She knew it was so far out of her scope and probably very invasive of her, but she wanted to know what Austin would be going through as a son and what Harry would be going through as a patient. Not that reading a few lines on a computer connected her to the family in any way, but it was a step in a direction she wasn’t sure she should take.

Austin had said he didn’t know much about the prognosis or even what stage his father was at because he’d been too dazed to really comprehend. She just prayed the cancer had been caught early enough that the Gleason grading was low. If Austin was still too worried to research or deal, then she’d be able to help him that much anyway. It was the least she could do for him after she freaked out over the ride and his hands on her skin.

Speaking of the ride, she needed to call Austin and cancel. It hurt to think about, but she wasn’t ready, and she knew it. Sitting on the back of a bike while having a panic attack would be downright dangerous, and no matter how slow Austin might go for her, she wouldn’t risk their lives because she had to push herself.

She quickly showered and dressed for her day. She didn’t open that day because it was Jasinda’s turn to open and Becca’s to close, but Sierra never had a true day off from Eden—even in the planning stages. And she loved it.

It gave her purpose.

She glanced down at her phone then stuck it in her purse. Instead of calling, she’d tell him face to face that she couldn’t go. He deserved that much, and then she’d be able to see him.

Damn it, she needed to stop acting like a dreamy-eyed schoolgirl.

Once she finished her makeup and put her hair up in a bun at the base of her neck, she headed out to Eden. She lived in Edgewater, a little square ’burb of Denver that sat right against the city proper. If she stood on her street, she could even see downtown easily. While the small ’burb was nice, her apartment wasn’t. In fact, the building was rundown, sketchy, and full of drug dealers who were very nice to her for some reason, but it was cheap.

She’d put her heart, soul, and bank account into Eden, and the rent in Edgewater was all she could afford. Hopefully after the one-year lease ended, she could find a better place to live where she didn’t feel the need to lock her windows at night even when the air conditioner was broken.

By the time she made it to downtown and parked in the special lot behind Montgomery Ink—how they’d lucked into that she’d never know—she had convinced herself she’d meet with Austin for two minutes and leave without feeling anything special.

She didn’t want to want him; she didn’t have time for that. She barely had time for her daily life to begin with. Instead of heading directly to see Austin, she went to Eden first. She’d talk to him during the lunch break the girls forced her to take daily. That way she had an excuse to rush back afterward and not get caught up in his gaze. Not that she would get caught up in his gaze. She was stronger than that.

Maybe.

The girls weren’t surprised she was there an hour earlier than scheduled. A couple hours passed quickly as she rang up purchases and helped customers find their perfect outfit or special nightie. Her goal was to be as personal as she could get without freaking her guests out. She had a gift, as the girls called it, to find out exactly what someone needed. Whether it be a scarf, a cocktail dress, or a special push-up bra that a woman’s partner could take off with their teeth, Sierra could usually find the perfect match. There was nothing better than watching a pleased customer leave her shop with a hop in their step. That meant not only were they happy, but they might come back and shop again. Perfect.

Her phone chirped quietly and she excused herself from the counter where Jasinda was ringing up a purchase. She’d set the alarm to force herself to go over and speak with Austin. Jasinda had already taken her break while Becky had just arrived, so it would be Sierra’s turn.

She said her goodbyes, telling them she’d be right back. From the looks on her girls’ faces, she had a feeling they knew exactly where she was heading first. How they could possibly know that, Sierra wasn’t sure, but she ignored them. She had a job to do. First, she’d say no to Austin as calmly as she could and back out of their date. Because it was a date. From the sparks between them and the look in his eyes when he’d asked—no, told her that he would take her for a ride on the back of his bike, their outing couldn’t be construed as anything but a date.

The bell over the door rang as she walked in. Callie sat on a stool behind the computer, a sketchpad in her lap, her head bent over her drawing. She looked up with a scowl that turned into a bright smile.

“Hey, Sierra. Austin is in the back sketching. He just finished with a client, so he should be free for you.”

“He’s free,” Maya said on Sierra’s other side.

Sierra studied Austin’s sister and couldn’t tell if Maya was happy he was free or not. The woman didn’t smile, but smirked, her eyes twinkling. Sure, that could be happiness in there, or maybe she wanted to push Sierra over a bridge or something. The other woman came off as abrasive, but from the way Austin had spoken of her, Sierra knew there was more to her than the piercings, tattoos, and attitude.

“I’ll just head on back then,” Sierra said coolly. When she didn’t know how to act in a certain situation, she always reverted to the ice princess. It never failed to keep people at a distance—well, almost never failed. Austin was another matter altogether.

“Do that then, princess,” Maya said, just as coolly.

Well then. Sierra knew exactly where she stood. And, honestly, she didn’t care.

“Stop being a bitch, Maya,” Callie called out. “You’re just in a mood because Jake is out of town.”

“Is Jake your boyfriend then?” Sierra asked and could have immediately smacked herself. Why was she asking personal questions of a woman who clearly didn’t want Sierra to have anything to do with her brother?

“He’s just a friend,” Maya said with another smirk. “Jake and I don’t need to have sex to be in the same room. Unlike some people I know.”

“Bitch,” Callie sneered then smiled. “Go on back, Sierra. He’s just in the office.”

Sierra looked between the two women then made her way to Austin. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she had enough on her plate as it was. When she made it to the office, she stopped and held back a sigh.

Austin had his head bent over his sketch, his forearm flexing as he drew. His side was to her, and she could see the long lines of his body bunched in the chair—a lion ready to strike.

His head whipped around to face as her as she let out that sigh. When his gaze reached hers, he smiled, and another bit of that sadness that had been present in his eyes when he told her of his family went away. If she could do that for him, then maybe it would all be worth it.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were stopping by today.” He stood up, those long legs of his stretching out his jeans nicely.

Not that she was staring at his jeans. Much.

She licked her lips, holding back a blush as his eyes darkened when she did so. Damn it. She wasn’t some naive virgin. Oh, hell no. The things she’d done, the things she’d craved…well, she wasn’t an innocent. She shouldn’t be blushing at a man when he stared at her. She was stronger than that.

Centering herself, she rolled her shoulders back. “I just came by to say in person that I don’t think I’ll be able to ride with you.” Why hadn’t she done this over the phone? It would’ve been so much easier, but she wanted to do it face-to-face so she wouldn’t be rude. Plus, she wanted to see him because she couldn’t get his face out of her dreams and his presence out of her system.

Damn Austin Montgomery.

Austin frowned, moving toward her. She forced herself not to take a step back. She wouldn’t run. Not anymore. But she didn’t know if she could keep up the denial if he got any closer.

He ended up standing right in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. The act reminded her of her dream of Jason, and she held back a shudder. It wouldn’t do her any good to compare the two men. Her past and her…whatever this would end up being.

His hand came up so he gripped her chin. He searched her face, and she just stared up at him, unsure of what to do or say next. He hadn’t spoken, and it threw her for a loop.

“Okay, Sierra,” he said finally, his voice low, deep. So deep it went straight to her core, and she had to keep from sighing. Again. “If you don’t feel like you’re ready to ride yet, then we won’t.”

She let out the breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. “Thanks, Austin. I’m sure we’ll see each other around then.” What was she doing? That hadn’t been the plan. Or had it? Honestly, she didn’t even know what her plan was anymore. She wanted him, she was clear on that much, but she wasn’t sure she could handle more. This wishy-washy thought process wasn’t doing her any favors. She needed to buck up and either give in fully or step back.

Taking half steps would only hurt her in the end. Didn’t she know that? Hadn’t she lived that?

“Oh really? I don’t think so. That’s not how this is going to play, Legs.”

“Excuse me?” The ice was back in her voice, but she didn’t know how to control it, not when he was so large and…Austin around her.

“You don’t want to ride? Fine. I get that you aren’t ready, and I don’t want to force you into something you aren’t comfortable with. Hopefully, you’ll be able to talk about it soon, and we can figure out how to get you on the back of a bike. Because, Sierra, you want to. I saw the look in your eyes after the fear. You want to ride again, and we’ll figure out a way to make that happen.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So, you know what I’m thinking, do you?” She didn’t like it when people made decisions for her. Not at all.

“Yeah. In this case, I do. I’m not saying I know everything. Far from it. But I get this. Now, on that note, just because we aren’t riding doesn’t mean you’re out of my life for good. You get me? We’re going to date, or whatever, or find a way to see each other again because I want you, Sierra. And from the way you licked your lips and looked at me when you first walked in, you want me too. I get that, right?”

“Bastard,” she mumbled. “I don’t like this alpha thing.”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Yeah, Legs. Yeah you do. Now, I’m going to pick you up tomorrow for lunch. Sound good? A real date and all that shit.”

“So romantic.” Yet she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away. “You think you can just tell me we’re going on a date?”

He grinned at her. “I asked you, didn’t tell you. I could have told you, and I think from the look in your eyes, you might have liked it just as much.”

How could he see that deep inside? How could he know what she’d been in the past? It had to be just her imagination. That wasn’t who she was anymore anyway.

“Fine. Dinner. I’ll text you my address.”

He smiled full-out then, leaving her breathless. Damn man. “Good, baby. Good.” He lowered his head; she knew what he was going to do.

And she let him.

His lips brushed hers, once, twice. She closed her eyes, melting into him. He reached up and cupped her neck and the back of her head. She moaned, parting her lips. His tongue tangled with hers as he deepened he kiss.

This kiss, this man. Oh, God was he potent…dangerous.

He pulled back when she would have begged for more. Only the promise in his gaze stopped her.

“We’ll do that again soon, Legs. I promise you.”

That was exactly what she was afraid of.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AUSTIN WINCED as his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t heard from Shannon in four days, and it was starting to scare him. Hopefully she’d back off, but who knew with her? He hadn’t thought she was that possessive and monumentally crazy when they’d gone out, but apparently, he hadn’t looked too deeply beneath the surface.

A mistake he wouldn’t be making again.

He looked at the readout and saw a text from Miranda letting him know that dinner was off because she had a date.

A date?

Seriously? Who the fuck was dating his sweet, innocent baby sister? She was only…wait, she was twenty-three. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d been doing at twenty-three, but, shit, Miranda shouldn’t be dating.

He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Meghan was married and had kids. Maya was out and doing only God knew what since she was proud of her body and sexuality. Her words. Not his.

He should get over it and let Miranda date. Not that she needed permission, per se…

Austin rolled his tongue over his teeth. Nope. Not gonna happen. He quickly texted back that no, that would not be okay, and she should cancel her date. He didn’t add that she could cancel all dates, but that would be implied.

He was a force to be reckoned with and authoritative. She would listen.

When his phone buzzed again, and he looked at the response, he cursed.

No can do, big brother. I’m dating. Get over it. Love you! XoXo

Didn’t his sister know anything? He was the eldest brother. His siblings should listen to him. He closed his eyes and knew it would be a lost cause. Plus, now he could see if his lunch date with Sierra could turn into something more.

It was Sunday, and they both had the day off, meaning they’d planned to spend the afternoon together. He already had plans with his sister beforehand or he would have made a dinner date with Sierra in the first place.

Now he had a chance to do both.

He quickly called her to set it up, just in case she’d thought of getting out of it. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about this. At his age, he’d dated countless women—not that he ever wanted to really think about that vast pool. He should have been on familiar ground, but when it came to Sierra, nothing was common, and nothing was at all familiar.

For some reason, he truly liked that.

“Hey you. I was just about to call.”

Her voice, usually a soft purr that went straight to his cock, sounded distracted. “What’s up, Legs?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she said absently. What was up? She usually put more effort into her denial of his nickname.

“What’s wrong, Sierra?” There. He could learn. Besides, she didn’t sound like she’d appreciate his teasing.

“I’m going to have to cancel lunch.”

He frowned. He’d let her cancel their ride because she wasn’t ready for that—frankly, he didn’t blame her—but he wasn’t about to let her cancel again. Not when they had something. He knew they did, and he knew she knew it, too.

“Why?”

She sighed. “Because some kid broke my window. It was an accident, and his mother already made him come over and apologize, so I know it could have been much worse considering where I live…I mean…”

He clenched his jaw. He knew she lived in Edgewater, and while it wasn’t the nicest ’burb of Denver, it wasn’t the worst either. From the sound of it, he should have been much more worried.

“Are you okay? Were you near the window when it broke?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” She gave a rough chuckle. “I was in the bedroom, and the broken window is in my kitchen. I cleaned up the glass, but maintenance said they couldn’t fix it until next Friday so now I’m stuck having to figure out how to put a board up or something. I can’t leave my house because of the broken window, you know? So, no, I can’t make lunch, but it’s not because I don’t want to. You get that, right?”

He was already grabbing his keys and passed by the mail that he’d, once again, forgotten to check. He needed to get on that. Damn.

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are, and I’ll bring a sheet of plywood I have in the garage. Then I can work on the window myself once I do some measurements.”

“Austin. You can’t come and fix my window.”

She kept telling him not to come over and help, so he mumbled and grunted as he went to his garage for supplies. He jumped in his truck after putting the sheet of wood in the back. “Yes. I can. You said yourself you can’t leave your house to go find something to block it, and this way I can still see you.”

He hadn’t meant to say the last part, but from her happy sigh, maybe it was a good thing he had.

“I’ll be there in less than twenty minutes. Don’t walk out of your house to get away from me or something. Okay?”

“Okay. Austin?”

“Yeah?” He put his phone on Bluetooth and sped up the driveway. She’d given him her address the day before so he had a relative idea of where she was. He knew Denver well enough it wasn’t a problem.

“Thank you,” she whispered sweetly.

“Anything, babe.”

He hung up and drove on, antsy to see her and help.

Damn. He had it bad, but right then, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

WHEN HE PULLED UP, he wanted to curse, then pick up Sierra, pack all her shit, and head back to his place. Why the hell was she living here? Sure the place didn’t look dirty, but it was a hell of a shithole compared to Eden and his own home. There were couches on lawns, people smoking weed out in the open. It might be legal state-wide to own it, but smoking it out on the street corner wasn’t the smartest idea.

However, in Sierra’s neighborhood, apparently, it didn’t matter.

He pulled into what served as her parking lot. Well, it was mainly a lot filled with beat-up cars and potholes, but he found a spot near her car anyway. He got out, locked his truck, then pulled the plywood out of the truckbed. He knew she was on the first floor and cursed yet again when he saw the window.

Austin needed to get her out of this neighborhood as quickly as he could. However, telling her, not asking her, to move into his house before they’d officially had their first date would probably be pushing it. Plus, he knew she was saving for Eden. He could remember the lean times he and Maya shared when they’d first opened Montgomery Ink.

Yeah, it rankled that he couldn’t fix everything for Sierra, but he had to live with it. He’d just find a way to get her to stay at his house more often than not. He had two extra bedrooms, and she could stay in one if she didn’t want to sleep in his bed.

The image of her in his bed went straight to cock, and he took a deep breath. There was no way he could fix her window and find a way to get her to his place when he had a hard-on the size of Texas.

She walked out onto her back porch—more like a cement slab she shared with four other units—her feet in sandals and a frown on her face. “You got here fast.” Her gaze searched his, and he wished to hell he had free hands to brush that lock of hair from her face.

“I’m not too far away.” He said that part loudly in case of any of her banger neighbors decided to poach on Austin’s territory. Call him an alpha asshole, but Sierra was his now, and they’d all just have to deal with him if they got too close.

“Thank you.” She walked closer and put her small hand on his chest. He sucked in a breath. “Really. Thank you. I honestly wasn’t sure what to do since I don’t even have a vehicle to put the wood into anyway.”

There was a dirty joke in there somewhere, and if Sierra had been one of his siblings, he would have been the first to call it, but he held it back.

From the way Sierra’s eyes widened, she thought it too.

“Uh, I mean… oh, whatever. Now, what can I do to help?”

Austin grinned. “I’ve got this. It’s pretty easy here. Just make sure all the glass is cleaned up since you’ll be walking around barefoot in your house, I presume.” Unless he got her to move in. Nope. He had to stop thinking along those lines.

“It’s all cleaned up. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?”

“We’re good. My brothers are contractors, remember? They do this for a living.” He started to work, grateful the board was the right size, so he wouldn’t have to cut it down with the tools he had in the back of his truck.

“Yeah. They are. You’re a tattoo artist.”

He looked over his shoulder and scowled. “You saying I can’t fix something like this? I learned with them, right alongside Dad. Just because I went into ink doesn’t mean I can’t work with my hands.”

She blushed hard then, and Austin’s cock filled. Again.

Damn dick.

“You’re great with your hands. Oh, shut up. I get it. Hands. Sex. Whatever. You’re an artist, Austin. I don’t want you to hurt your hands and not be able to work.”

He finished up quickly, shaking his head as he did so. “If I bang my thumb, it won’t kill me. I’m good at what I do.”

“Don’t I know it,” she mumbled, and Austin grinned again. “Want something to drink?”

“Sounds good to me.” He followed her into her small apartment, not surprised that she had nice furniture in a shitty place. From the way she walked and talked, he figured that she hadn’t always lived in a place like this.

They drank in silence for a bit before she finally let out a breath.

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me asking you here.”

Austin tilted his head. “Wrong idea? I asked you on a date, and I came here to help on my own accord. Not sure what wrong idea I can get.”

“I don’t know what you’re looking for here. Relationship-wise. I mean, I don’t even know what I want.”

He set down his glass on the high counter then brushed his lips over hers. “One day at a time, Sierra. One day at a time.”

“What does that even mean?” She scowled then set down her own glass. “One day at a time? For what? What are we even doing, Austin? I thought we didn’t even like each other when we first met. Now you’re asking me to ride with you, kissing me, and fixing my window.”

Austin frowned then took her chin in a hard grip. Her eyes widened a bit before her pupils dilated. Ah, that’s what he wanted to see. So she liked him in control, did she? He’d have to be clear about what he was and what he liked before they went further, but if his instincts were right, she’d be perfect for him.

Fuck. He couldn’t wait.

“I’m too old for games, Sierra.”

She didn’t pull away from his hold. Good.

“I’m not playing games. I’m honestly confused and wondering how we got here. How are you in my apartment with your hands on me? I don’t know what happened.”

He took his other hand and collared her throat as he let her chin go. She sucked in a breath, her pulse fluttering beneath his thumb.

“I want you, Sierra. That much is obvious. Tell me you want me to.” He lowered his voice at the end, putting as much order in his tone as possible.

“I don’t know,” she lied. Oh yes, he could tell it was a lie.

“Be honest. Don’t lie to me.”

“I…I want you too. But I don’t know what that means. Want you for how long? For what? We need to talk it out first because I’m not jumping into bed with you only for you to leave right after and never see me again. I’m not that person.”

He brushed his thumb over her pulse again, narrowing his eyes. “You think I’d leave you right after I’ve tasted you? You don’t know me as well as I thought.”

She finally pulled away, and he let her. She crossed her arms over her chest, and shook her head. “See? That’s exactly the point. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel this heat between us. That much is obvious, but I don’t know if I can handle more. Do you understand that?”

He nodded, getting a clearer picture of the woman he wanted in his bed, and from the direction things were going, in his life as well.

“You don’t want this to be only for a night, but you don’t know if you’re ready for everything that comes with it if we last longer.”

She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging. “I didn’t come to Denver for a relationship. In fact, I’ve done my best not to be with another person in so long that I don’t even remember what it’s like to be in one.”

He let out a breath, then brushed her cheek with his knuckles. She leaned into his touch, and he held back a groan. Oh yes, she would be perfect under his dominance. He only hoped she knew that. Or would at least be open to it.

“I’ve tried to be in serious relationships, but they haven’t worked out. I’m not the kind of person to love ’em and leave ’em, but I haven’t been serious about anyone truly.”

“And do you want that? A serious relationship?”

He nodded even as her eyes widened. “Yes. That’s what I want. But me saying that doesn’t mean we have to jump in headfirst. Sierra, it’s okay to start off as exclusive then work our way toward what we become rather than focusing on the end and dreading the way there.”

“So you’re saying we see each other and find our way, knowing it might end up in tatters because I don’t know what I want?”

He shook his head then cupped her face. He brushed his lips against hers, craving her taste. When he pulled back, her eyes had darkened again. “I’m saying that we take it one day at a time. Stop worrying. Just know that I’m not going into this with an end date in mind. I’m not going to leave like a fucking bastard. I’m not that man.”

“I don’t believe you are,” she whispered, and he held back a fist pump. Well, at least he was getting somewhere.

“Then we can date, get to know one another, and find our way. Freaking out about a future we can’t control won’t help us.”

She rolled her eyes then ran her hand through her hair as she pulled back. “Tell me about it. I’ve been trying to control my destiny for so long, it seems like no matter what I do, life happens the way it wants.”

He wanted to know more about what she was saying and find out all her secrets, but he knew it wasn’t the time for that. He’d find out. Soon.

He was done with the Shannons and Maggies of his past. He’d known that before he went to New Orleans to see Shep. Now he had a future with Montgomery Ink, a fucking scary path to travel with his father, and now this.

If he was saner, he’d pull back from Sierra and focus solely on his job and his family, but he never claimed to be sane. Although he was through burying his head in the sand when it came to his dad, he wasn’t ready to face it fully. Not without someone by his side. That was fucking crazy to think, but for some odd reason, he was ready for that.

Now he just had to get Sierra to agree.

“I’m going to feed you, and then we can come back here and…talk.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back and laughed. “Talk, huh? Is that code for something?”

Well, he needed to talk to her about his needs and what he saw of her needs as well, but yeah, code worked. He didn’t answer, merely kissed her again, this time a bit harder. He nipped at her lip, and she sighed and flowed into him. He nibbled at her jaw, wrapping her hair around his fist so he could tilt her head to gain better access. She shivered in his hold, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her nipples pebbled, and he held back a groan. He couldn’t wait to feast on them, biting and licking until they reddened. Maybe she had darker nipples that would fill to a nice plum color. As soon as he could, he’d make a study of her breasts and explore every inch of her.

Austin damn sure needed to know the color of her nipples.

The color of the blush of her pussy.

He couldn’t hold back a small groan at that thought and pulled back, his chest heaving. Sierra breathed hard as well, her cheek resting on his forearm since his hand was still tangled in her hair.

“We need to do that again,” she whispered, and he chuckled deeply.

“Yeah...yeah we really do.” He pulled back, releasing her hair. The tousled look made her look even sexier. He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like after a long night of him buried deep inside her.

“Lunch.”

Austin blinked, his gaze moving from her mouth to her eyes, which were filled with need and humor. “What?”

“Lunch. Take me to lunch, and then we can come back and…talk.”

He grinned then. “Lunch it is.”

He took her hand, and she stepped readily into his space. This could be good. Fucking good if he let it. He just hoped when they talked for real his needs didn’t screw it all up. He might not need to be in control every time he was in bed, but with Sierra and this connection, he knew he couldn’t ignore it.

Only time would tell, and from the way his cock tented his jeans, he knew lunch would be a fucking long one.

She smiled up at him even as she raised a brow at his hard-on.

Yeah, the wait would be worth it.

CHAPTER NINE

LUNCH AT GREGORIO’S was surprisingly relaxed. Sierra had expected to sit through an achingly long lunch while shifting in her seat. She’d been aroused, yes, her body begging for release even from the small touch of Austin’s hand on her chin, her neck, her lips, but Austin made lunch…pleasant.

He hadn’t touched her under the table beyond tangling his legs with hers. They sat across from one another, the distance helping cool her down slightly.

Not that she’d ever be completely cool when she was around Austin. Oh no, that ship had long since sailed. Sure, she could be the serene, put-together owner of Eden with others, but as soon as she got near the bearded man, she wanted to melt.

Or kneel and lower her gaze.

That had been ingrained in her from her time with Jason, and it seemed that her inner need found what it wanted in Austin.

There was no denying Austin was a Dominant. While that should have scared the hell out of her, she found herself curious as to how he’d handle the situation.

How he’d handle her.

While she’d never be a twenty-four/seven sub who trusted her Dom to make all of their choices, she had enjoyed giving Jason control while they were in the bedroom. She liked being his first priority and the way he cared for her before, during, and after their scenes.

They’d never visited a club or ranch or anything like that. They preferred to do things in private, and that was exactly how she liked it. They also didn’t play every time they had sex. Sometimes it was just the two of them and their own needs. She hadn’t needed to give up control and relax—if one could call it relaxing—each time they made love.

Everyone’s kink was different. Needs changed as the person changed. As long as it was safe and consensual, it could work.

However, she hadn’t participated in anything like that in ten years. It had taken five years after the accident for her to even have sex again. Even then, it hadn’t been worth it. Yeah, it scratched an itch, and the two men she’d slept with since were nice but nothing to do cartwheels over.

If she let herself think about it, then she’d worry it was her and her lack of heat, but she’d been good to herself. It was a lack of chemistry, a lack of true desire beyond a need to comfort that led her to those mediocre couplings.

Austin, however, would be anything but mediocre.

They made it back to her place after having, in her opinion, the best burritos in town. They had reached an unspoken understanding that whatever needed to be said, whatever would be done, would be in her place first. She might not love her place—she hated it—but it was hers. For their first time—even if it was just talking about what they wanted—she needed it to be in her own place.

Yes, that was clearly her not giving up the control, but it had been so long since Jason…

She mentally slapped herself. This wasn’t about Jason. This was about her and Austin. No matter where their future ended up, she needed to keep Jason firmly rooted in the past. He was gone. Austin was not. The girl she was all those years ago wasn’t the woman she was now.

She was stronger, scarred, and had finally come into her own.

And now she was alone in her living room with Austin Montgomery of the gorgeous blue eyes that saw far too much.

“Where did your mind go just then?” Austin asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Everywhere and nowhere,” she answered honestly.

He raised both brows then sat on her old wood coffee table, pulling at her wrist so she sat on the couch directly in front of him. Their knees brushed, and she wanted to pull away and scoot closer at the same time. Yes, they truly needed to talk.

“That is an oddly cryptic answer, but I’ll let that go. We need to talk anyway.”

If anyone else had said those words she’d have thought it was the clear sign of a breakup. However, they hadn’t been dating for more than an hour. Well, maybe longer considering she’d been territorial over him since the first time she saw him, but that wasn’t something she was going to think about. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted to discuss.

There was no hiding the alpha in Austin Montgomery.

“Okay, then. I’m ready.”

He searched her gaze. “I think you are.” He cleared his throat then took both of her hands in his. “Do you know what BDSM is?”

He looked so worried. Yes, his face was set and relaxed, but she could see in his eyes he wasn’t.

She squeezed his hands. “Yes, I know. And before you start to worry if you’re scaring me away, I was in a D/s relationship before.”

The shock that crossed his face wasn’t a surprise, but the jealousy was. Seriously?

“Really?” he growled out.

She sighed but didn’t pull her hands back. She had been the one to jump right in, so she’d have to deal with the consequences.

“Yes. It was over ten years ago. I haven’t played since.”

He pulled his hand back, and for a moment, the loss made her ache until he cupped her face. “Not in ten years?”

She swallowed back the pain, the memories of what she’d lost because of one careless action. “Jason—that was his name—and I were a couple, and I was his submissive while in the bedroom. We weren’t twenty-four/seven, and that’s how we both preferred it. I can’t give up complete control, but I think you know that about me.”

He narrowed his gaze, his thumb running along her cheek. “On the one hand, it’s good to know that you’re aware of the lifestyle and have experience. I could tell you were a sub, but not about all of your experience. That’s probably because it’s been so long.”

Ignoring the memories, she rolled her eyes. “You have sub-dar, do you?”

His grip tightened on her chin, and she sucked in a breath. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this. Damn him if this went sour. Damn them both.

“Sub-dar? It’s a thing, but it’s not like you glowed or I heard little pinging sound when you were near me.”

She snorted then rolled her eyes. “Good to know. I think I’d have to get that checked out.”

“Insolent,” he muttered then leaned closer. She could scent him, the musk that was Austin and pine. “It’s the way you lowered your eyes when I touched you, the way you came closer in certain ways and pulled away in others. Your body, your soul was made to trust a Dom to take care of you in bed.”

“Not all the time,” she added in. She needed to make that clear.

He nodded, understanding filling his gaze. “I understand. I’m wired the same way.” He grinned then, and she held back a sigh. He really was a gorgeous man. Not that she’d tell him. He was already too sure of himself as it was.

“So it seems we’re on the same page,” she whispered.

“It seems. But we’re not done talking yet. Open communication in any relationship is important, but even more so in this case. I don’t need to inflict pain or control on my partner unless they desire it. That need is what drives my own. So every time we’re making love—because Legs, we’ll be making love soon—we don’t need to be together in a D/s way. We won’t need the flogger, the nipple clamps, or the way I want to tie you up each time.”

She shuddered out a breath, her pussy growing slick at his words alone.

Dear God, she wanted all of that.

She hadn’t known how much she wanted that.

“Sometimes, Sierra, sometimes I’ll want you to be on top as you ride me, rocking your hips as you take my cock deep inside that pussy of yours. Other times I’ll be soft and on top, pumping into you as we just let ourselves go, no control, no dominance, just us.” He paused, and she held back the need to squirm. “Does that sound like something you’ll need? Something you’ll enjoy?”

She nodded.

He shook head. “Say it, Sierra.”

“Yes…Sir?” She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to call him.

He grinned then, cupping her face. “I’m just Austin, Sierra. I don’t need to be called Sir or Master for you to be under my gaze. That works for some, but it’s not my kink. If you need to call me that, then you can, but I want to hear my name on your lips as you come.”

She licked her lips. “Austin.”

He grinned. “Good. Right now, since I don’t have any of my things and I know we both want to ease into that part of our relationship, I’m not going to tie you up, flog you, or make you scream.” He paused. “Oh, I might make you scream, but only when I’m thrusting inside you.”

“What if I make you scream?” she teased.

He snorted. “I intend to shout your name, Sierra. I promise you. Now, before we start, we need a safe word.”

She raised her brows. “I thought you said we weren’t starting that part yet.”

He shook his head. “But it’s always good to have one. You know that.”

“I think the standard red, yellow, and green will work.” It was what she’d used with…no, she wouldn’t think of him. Not here.

He narrowed his eyes. “You need a strong one, Sierra. There’s a ghost between us. One you’re not ready to talk about.”

She sucked in a breath.

“Pick a different safe word.”

There was only one word she could use, and they both knew it.

“Motorcycle,” she whispered.

Austin nodded, his eyes carefully blank. Had she hurt him? Maybe, but he’d asked for the safe word. It was something they’d both have to deal with when they were ready.

He stood then, holding out his hand. She took it and stood so her chest brushed his, her body flush to him.

“I want you, Sierra Elder. Say you want me too.”

She knew this was big. A step she hadn’t been sure she was ready to take as late as that morning. However, she’d been hiding for so long, neglecting what was inherent to her being that she knew she needed to take this risk.

“I want you too.”

“Good.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, and she moaned. His hands were in her hair, forcing her head to stay in one place as he devoured her mouth. His tongue pressed against hers, controlling the kiss, and she gave in. They might not get into the truly D/s things this first time, but she wanted—no, needed to let herself give in and see if she could trust him.

Not fully.

Not yet.

But soon.

His lips trailed along her jawline, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his lips, teeth, and tongue on her skin. He bit her earlobe then placed small kisses right behind it, sending delicious shivers down her spine, her knees going weak.

“Austin,” she whispered.

“Yes, that’s my name,” he growled against her neck, one hand on her head, the other on her lower back. “You’re going to be saying it over and over again soon.”

Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers again as he cupped her breast. She gasped as he rolled her nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t matter that she still wore her shirt and bra, the exquisite pain and sweetness went straight to her core, and she shuddered.

Oh, how she missed this.

“I want to suck your nipples, learn their taste.” He pulled up her shirt, and she lifted her arms, letting him strip it off her head, leaving her in her tank and bra. “Earlier, I was mesmerized by just the thought of them. I wanted to know their color and what they’d look like after I’d sucked and nibbled on them. Then my thoughts went to your pussy, and I wanted to know what you’d look like swollen and wet, ready for my cock.”

“If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to come without you touching me.”

He grinned and sucked her bottom lip between his teeth. “That would be fine with me. After this first time. I need to see you.” He pulled back, meeting her gaze. “All of you.”

She licked her lips and felt her whole body stiffen. In all of this, she’d forgotten her scars. How could she forget what had plagued her for so long?

“You don’t have to tell me right now how it happened. I don’t want to ruin what we have at this moment, Sierra.” He pulled up the bottom of her tank, and she let him, knowing if she didn’t do it now, she’d never do it at all. “No matter what scars you have, Sierra, you’ll always be beautiful. No amount of ink or scars will make your skin anything but perfect to me.”

Tears filled her eyes at the beauty of his words, and she refused to close them as he looked down at her side. She sucked in a breath as his fingers gently traced the puckered scars and fine white lines that used to be so much worse.

He knelt before her, and she choked on a sob.

That this man would kneel before her…

She would never get the image of his dark head at her stomach, her scars, out of her head for as long as she lived.

His lips brushed the nearly numb areas on her skin, and a tear slid down her cheek. Her hands rested on his shoulders as he kissed every inch of her marred skin , caring for her in a way no other had ever done before. He finally looked up at her, his eyes dark and full of promise.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

And she was lost.

He stood then, cupping her face so he could kiss her. He tasted of warmth and strength, and she wanted more. Oh, how she wanted more. His denim-clad erection pressed into her belly, and she grinned at the size of it. Yeah, it would hurt at first, but she couldn’t wait; she wanted it badly.

Austin pulled away from her mouth but didn’t let his lips leave her body. Instead, he gently set her down on the couch so he could kneel between her legs. At some point, he’d pushed the coffee table back so he had more room. How had she missed that?

His lips moved to her collarbone, her sternum, then over each breast through her bra. She sucked in a breath as he licked along the lacy edge of her cup.

“Let’s see what color your nipples are, shall we?”

His hands expertly undid the clasp at her back, and he slid the straps off her shoulders His gaze met hers as he removed her bra, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She swallowed hard as he lowered his eyes, his gaze on her nipples. As if they knew they were the center of his attention, they hardened into sharp points, ready for his tongue.

He reached out and caressed her breast. The globe slightly filled his palm. The sight itself was one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen.

“Jesus. Like little pink berries. You’re going to redden up so fucking nice when I suck on them. One day, when I use clamps, they’re going to be so hard they’ll beg for my tongue.” His gaze met hers. “Are you going to beg for me, Sierra? Beg for my tongue? My cock? You want my dick between your tits as I fuck those then your mouth?” She licked her lips, squirming for release.

“I love your voice.” It was so deep, so rough. It went straight to her clit, and she knew if she tried she could get off on the sound of it alone.

“Don’t move, Sierra. Save your clit for me.”

She froze at his tone, her body as tight as a bowstring. She ached for him, but on another level, she knew if she sat still for him, he’d make it better soon.

That was the kind of trust she held for him so early in their relationship. It boggled her mind, but she pushed it to the side. She wanted this. Wanted it right then.

“Good girl.” Then he pinched her nipple.

Hard.

The sting shocked her system, and she sucked in a breath, using everything within her power not to move. If she moved, he might stop, and she didn’t know if she could take that. She wanted his touch, his everything.

She’d worry about the consequences later.

“Get out of your head, Sierra.” He pinched the other nipple just as hard then laved the sting with his tongue. “It’s just you and me. Nothing and no one else. Just think of me. That’s all you have to do. I’ll do the rest. You get me?”

She nodded.

He pinched her nipple again. “You get me?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Good girl.”

He lowered his mouth to each breast and feasted, his tongue and teeth devouring one as his free hand palmed the other, rolling and pinching her nipple. She let her head fall back as he gave special attention to each nipple, she loved the way the scrape of his beard made it even more erotic. Each scrape, each lick sent waves of pleasure through her body, pooling in her clit so that it hummed, needing just a little more pressure so she could get off.

Still, she didn’t move her hips.

She wanted Austin to do it.

Trusted him to take care of her need.

He pulled back, his gaze dark. “Just like I thought. Red berries. So fucking hot. Ass up.”

She blinked, confused.

“Ass up, Sierra. I’m taking off your pants so I can eat your pussy before I take you into your bedroom and fuck you hard. Ass. Up.”

“Yes, Austin,” she said and smiled as his nostrils flared. Oh yes, he liked it when she said that. She’d be sure to say it again…or not if she wanted his hand on her ass.

Well, it seemed that this hidden part of her, the part she thought she’d buried so deep, wasn’t so hidden after all. She lifted her hips and bit her lip as he undid the button on her jeans and slowly unzipped her zipper. Then he gripped her jeans and panties in his fists and pulled. She helped him with each leg, keeping her ass above the couch, her weight resting on her forearms.

Austin groaned. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. You can rest now, baby. “

She sank into the cushions, her legs spread around Austin as he studied her. She could have felt self-conscious, but she didn’t, not with the look of pure pleasure and thirst on Austin’s face.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered before lowering his body and licking the long line of her pussy straight up to her clit.

Her body rocketed off the couch, and he clamped his arm over her waist. “You were doing so good, baby. Don’t move.”

She licked her lips. “I need to, Austin. I need…”

His gaze met hers. “I know what you need. And if you keep still, I’ll give it to you.”

Well now, that was incentive...

With that intensity of his, he lifted the hood then lowered his head again, sucking her clit into her mouth. She almost moved off the couch toward his face but stopped herself. He flicked it against his teeth before stroking her entrance with his finger. When he breached her, she sucked in a breath. It had been so long, and a vibrator wasn’t as good as Austin’s hand…or anything else on Austin for that matter.

He pumped one finger into her then two, slowly, then faster as he teased her. He kept his mouth on her clit, humming and growling against her. The feel of his beard scraping her thighs was the last straw, and she came.

Hard.

Her pussy clamped around his fingers, but he didn’t relent. Instead, he curled his fingers on her G-spot and massaged the bundle of nerves until her body shook and she came again, this time screaming his name as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

By the time she opened her eyes, Austin stood at her feet, licking his hand, one finger at a time. Her juices coated his beard, his hand, his fingers, yet he looked so pleased she didn’t care. God, she wanted to do that again.

If she could walk.

“You taste so fucking good, Sierra. Like nectar I can’t get enough of. Now I’m going to fuck you until we both pass out, then wake up for dinner, fuck you again, and repeat. How does that sound?”

She licked her lips, her body languid even as it thrummed for Austin. “I just hope I have enough condoms.” She’d bought a whole box before on a whim and was damn glad she’d done so.

He grinned at her then. “One day we’ll talk about other forms of birth control and getting tested so I can make love to you bare and feel every sweet inch of you. For now, I hope you have enough rubbers, too.”

He lifted her up, her naked body resting against his clothed one. She smiled up at him. “It’s not fair you’re not naked you know.”

When he kissed her brow, she sighed contentedly. “Give me a moment, and I’ll be just as naked as you.”

He sat her on the edge of the bed then stood in front of her. When he stripped off his shirt, her jaw dropped.

Dear. God.

Ropes of corded muscles, hard lines of strength, sex, and everything in between covered his body. He had some chest hair, enough to enhance the beauty of his ink, but not too much.

And, sweet baby Jesus, his ink.

Tribal, skulls, flowers, and other symbols covered his arms and chest. A dragon went down his side to his hips, flaring out over part of his back.

And the nipple rings.

How on earth had she missed those in those tight shirts of his?

He grinned down at her. “Glad to see you like it.”

“You’re like a rock, Austin.”

He looked down at his cock then raised a brow. “Seems so.”

“I meant your body…” She looked down at his crotch. “Oh. Well then.” She licked her lips. “I didn’t realize you had nipple rings.”

He reached up and flicked one, and she wanted to do the same with her tongue. “I don’t always have them in. Sometimes I just have the spacers.”

“I like them.”

“Good.” He undid his pants then shucked them and his boxer briefs down his legs. His cock jutted out, so erect it brushed his belly.

Without giving it a second thought, she slid off the bed and knelt at his feet. Her legs were spread, and she put her open, up-turned palms on her thighs, the submissive pose so ingrained in her she didn’t have to give it a second thought.

Austin’s nostrils flared, and he took the two steps between them toward her. His hand cupped her chin to raise her eyes. His cock brushed her cheek, and she had to hold back from turning and sucking the thick head into her mouth.

“That is the most achingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m honored, Sierra. Honored.” He stroked her cheek then pulled away. The loss was almost overwhelming before he held out his hand.

“Let me lay you on the bed and make love to you. I want to feel you wrapped around me as we both come. We’ll explore everything else next time.” She stood up, using his arm as support. “There will be a next time.”

“Yes, Austin. Yes, there will be.”

He walked her backward then laid her on the bed. She scooted so her head was on the pillow, and he hovered over her.

“Condoms,” he bit out.

“The nightstand.”

He nodded then left her to get the box from the drawer.

The whole box.

Ambitious.

He tore open a packet and rolled one over his length. She swallowed hard as he worked his cock, the girth of it a little intimidating. When he came over her again, her body shook, from anticipation or nerves she didn’t know.

“Ready?” he asked, his body shaking as well.

“Yes, Austin. Please.”

He lowered his head, kissing her softly. She could taste herself on his lips and was only disappointed she hadn’t been able to taste him as well. Next time, he said. She couldn’t wait.

“Put your hands on the headboard,” he ordered, and she shuddered.

When she did so, keeping her hands close together, he wrapped his hand around both of her wrists. God, he was big everywhere.

He settled between her legs, his body pressed against hers as he kept his weight on his other arm. Then he pressed against her opening, his cock sliding through her juices. Thank God she was so wet for him because, hell, he was big.

Much bigger than anything she’d experienced before.

He slowly stretched her, filled her inch by inch until they were both sweat-slick and panting. “Jesus, baby, you’re so fucking tight.” He let his hand drop from her wrist as he moved to his knees. The action brought him that much deeper, and she cried out in pleasure, not in pain. It must have shown on her face because he slid his hands down her sides, gripping her hips.

Then he moved again, thrusting in and out of her slowly at first, then harder.

Her gaze met his, wanting that connection like her next breath.

“You feel so good around my cock, Legs. I can’t wait to take you from behind and push even deeper. Then, one day, you’ll be above me, your tits bouncing as you ride me. Maybe I’ll tie you up, your ass in the air, and fuck that sweet ass of yours. You want me to do that? You want me to fuck your ass like I’m fucking your pussy?”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

He lifted her hips up with one hand even as he continued to fuck her, and then he slapped her ass. Hard.

“You want that, Sierra? Answer me?”

She nodded. “Yes, Austin. I want it all.”

“What do you want, Sierra?”

“I want everything. I want you to tie me up, spank me, fuck my ass. I want it all.” Later she might blush at her words, but right then, with Austin’s intense gaze on hers, his cock deep inside her, she wanted nothing but him and everything he had to offer.

“You’ll get it all, baby. You’ll get everything.” He lowered himself again, his body resting over hers as he put his weight on his forearms. He kept thrusting in and out of her, the sensation of his cock hitting her in just the right place sending her over the edge even as she stared at him.

She couldn’t breathe, but she could see him, see the way his jaw clenched, and then he growled her name as he came, filling the condom. He kept thrusting, pushing them both over the sweet edge of ecstasy into the warm comfort of afterglow and contentment.

More than contentment, so much more.

When they became more aware of things around them, he pulled out, took care of the condom, and came back to bed. He wrapped his body around hers, pulling the sheet over the two of them.

She wiggled closer, turning to rest her head on his chest. He held her shoulders to him, his head buried in her hair and his other hand on her ass, patting and massaging almost as if he couldn’t stop touching her.

Sierra couldn’t blame him because she was doing the same to him.

“Perfect,” he rumbled before falling asleep.

She smiled, pushing away all thoughts of the trials and complications to come that had been forgotten in the moment.

“Perfect,” she whispered back.

Perfect.

CHAPTER TEN

SHEA MONTGOMERY MIGHT BE a new Montgomery, but she was part of the family nonetheless. At least that’s what she told herself as she stood on Harry and Marie’s porch, her hand firmly in Shep’s.

“You ready for this?” Shep asked, his face a little paler than normal.

She wanted more than anything to pull him into her arms and never let him go. She had no idea how to make things better, and she wasn’t sure there was a way to begin with. Someone Shep loved more than anything in the world might be dying, and there was nothing she could do.

Shep had grown up in Denver with the rest of the vast Montgomery clan. He had three sets of cousins, plus his own siblings. Sure, many of the cousins and others had moved away from Denver over the years, but the core group, Harry and Marie’s, all still lived within the Denver limits. Shep said they were noisy, loving, and always into each other’s business.

He loved it.

Shea wasn’t so sure.

She’d grown up in a family where being in another’s business meant telling them what to do and belittling them while they did it. Her father had cheated on her mother for years, using mistress after mistress to bury the pain of being married to her mother. Her mother? Well…her mother was an icy bitch of epic proportions.

It had taken years for Shea to feel free enough to even think that, let alone say it.

She’d finally gotten out from under her mother’s thumb—she’d never truly been on her father’s radar since she wasn’t a son.

Now, she had a job she enjoyed, a husband she loved to the depths of her soul, and a new large family she was about to meet. Yet she felt like she was out of control, on the verge of something she couldn’t name, something she couldn’t vocalize, not when there were more important things to worry about—namely Harry and Shep.

Her own fears and secret desires would have to wait. She’d tried to hide from Shep what was going on in her own mind, but she wasn’t sure she was doing a very good job of it. In fact, she knew she sucked at it. Hiding things from her husband was nearly impossible. It wasn’t as if she was hiding something truly horrible; it was a dream and a nightmare at once that she couldn’t control, not the end of the world. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t stop the damn worrying.

Strong hands cupped her face, and she blinked.

“Shea? Baby? I asked if you were ready.”

She licked her lips and leaned into his hand. “I am. Just lost in thought I guess.”

His gaze searched hers, and he sighed. Damn it. She was doing this all wrong. It was getting harder and harder to conceal her worry and concerns. Without thinking, she put her hand over her stomach, praying everything would be okay.

“I wish you would tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. We should go inside or knock or something. Standing out here loitering probably isn’t the best first impression I can make.”

He frowned then kissed her softly. “I love you, Shea. You can tell me anything.”

She smiled at him then, loving him more than she could ever have thought possible. “I know. I love you too.”

The door opened, and Austin stood in the doorway. “You two done making out on the porch, or should I let you keep at it for a bit?”

Shea turned in Shep’s arms, blushing, with a small smile on her face. Austin grinned at her, his expression lighter than she’d ever seen it. Something had happened to him since his time in New Orleans, something good that might not completely outweigh the bad, but good nonetheless.

“It’s good to see you, Austin,” she said as she slid from Shep’s arms into his cousin’s. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.

Austin was the only Montgomery she’d met, and she liked the fact that he’d be a familiar face in what would surely be a sea of people, whose names she would never get right.

He kissed the top of her head then moved back, his arm still around her waist. “It’s good to see you, too. I don’t know why you didn’t let me pick you up from the airport.”

Shea rolled her eyes as Shep shrugged then went in for a hug with Austin. Shea moved away for them to embrace in a hug that wasn’t one of those male hugs where they clapped each other on the shoulder and all that crap. No, this one was one between brothers and cousins who were both in pain.

“We wanted to rent a car since none of you have an extra one,” Shep explained. “We have all our crap in the back, so we’ll just head to Griffin’s place after dinner with the folks.”

Her husband looked as exhausted as she felt, and she sighed. This was going to be a very tiring trip, but they needed to be there. Austin had asked, and they had come with no second thoughts. It didn’t mean it would be easy.

“Are you going to make them stand in the doorway for the rest of the night, or are they allowed to come in?”

Shea turned to see an older version of Austin—sans beard and visible tattoos—walk toward them. He didn’t look sick. That surprised her. Austin had told Shep that Harry looked smaller than he had before, sicker.

That could be the case, but Shea didn’t see that. She saw a man who looked vital and ready to fight.

Good for him.

Harry held his arms out with a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There. That was what Austin must have been talking about. Well, okay, she’d do her best to be there for all of them. They were her family now, and she’d be damned if she’d be the weak link.

“Well, girl, come here to your Uncle Harry and give him a hug.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she did as he asked. He wrapped his arms around her just as Austin had, holding her tight. The man might be in his sixties and in the early stages of cancer, but he hadn’t lost his strength yet.

“You look good, Shea.” He smiled down at her when they pulled apart. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the wedding.”

She bit her lip. It had been her idea to not wait for a large wedding and forego having family there. She just wanted Shep to be her husband, and he hadn’t complained. She thought now that she might have made a mistake.

“Hey, don’t look like that, dear,” Harry said as he tilted her chin up. “You get married for yourself and your partner. You don’t do it for others. We didn’t need to be there, but you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He cleared his throat, and Shea held back tears. “You’re here now,” he whispered.

Shea pulled away as Shep said hello to his uncle, blinking quickly so she didn’t cry.

“Shea, honey, I’m so glad you’re here,” Marie said as she came into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. She set the towel down on the side table then opened her arms as Harry had.

Shea sank into the other woman, the softness over steel will not surprising her in the least. Marie was a mother of eight and countless strays. It was no wonder she was so strong. As Marie ran her hand down Shea’s back, Shea relaxed, that little ball of anxiety in her belly soothing.

God, was this what it should have been with her own mother? A hug that took out some of the sting, some of the pain?

She was officially an emotional mess, but at least she’d held back her tears. So far.

“Well then, darling,” Marie said as she wiped her own eyes. “Now that we’re here, let’s have some food, get settled, and then we can visit a bit.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Shea said. “Is there anything I can do?”

Marie shook her head. “No, I’ve got this down to a science. It’s on the table, and we’re ready to go.”

Shep came over and took her hand, leading her into the dining room. Soon, she was eating a generous helping of roast chicken stuffed with oranges, plus mashed potatoes, and lemon asparagus. She hadn’t been eating enough recently and, in the mornings, had been having trouble keeping things down. Right then, she ate every bite and relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Shep ran his hand over her knee, and she leaned into him. Yes, she’d tell him what was going on soon, but first she needed to figure out what was wrong with herself emotionally and how to help Shep’s family.

As dinner wound down, they made their way into the living room. She sank into the couch, her body relaxing against Shep’s. Austin sat on the other side of her, as if he knew they all might need the comfort.

“So…we’re here,” Shep started, running a hand over his face.

“You’re here,” Harry said. “You’re here because Austin asked that of you, and I’m grateful.” He met Shea’s eyes then Shep’s. “As you know, I have prostate cancer. We caught it early because my wife makes me go to the doctor to catch things like this.” He let out a breath then gripped Marie’s hands.

Shea let a tear fall. It would be no use holding them back now.

“Can you tell us more about it?” Shep asked. “Where you’re at? What treatments? I want to make sure we understand so we can help out and know all we can.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll tell you everything I can. I don’t want to hide this from you, nor do I want you to go in thinking the worst…or even the best. I’m in the very early stages of the disease with a slow-growing, low-grade tumor.”

“That’s good, right?” Shep asked and Shea squeezed his hand. “Shit. I mean better. Not good. There’s nothing good about this.”

“He caught it early, and that’s a good thing,” Austin said quietly.

“Yes, son. That’s exactly it. It’s low-grade, as I said. That means we’re looking at external beam radiation therapy and not a radical prostatectomy. However, if the doctors think I need that, then we’ll do it. I’m not going to risk my life and forego treatment because of cost—not yet.”

Shea didn’t think Harry meant the cost in terms of money.

“Sierra and I were looking at the types of radiation and how it would work while we were researching,” Austin began then coughed. “I hope that’s okay.”

For the first time, Harry looked truly bright. “Sierra, is it?”

“We’re just starting out, Dad.”

Shea smiled as Austin squirmed in his seat.

“Why didn’t she come tonight?” Harry asked.

“She had to work at Eden, her shop across the street from Montgomery Ink. I’ll bring her next time, okay?” Austin grinned a bit, though he looked like he’d rather not be subjected to his parents’ stares.

Good for Austin.

“Good,” Marie said sweetly. “I want to meet this woman that Maya speaks of.”

Austin groaned. “You know better than to listen to what Maya has to say.”

“Austin Montgomery, you be nice to your sister,” Marie ordered with a smile. She looked over at her husband and sighed. “Now where were we?”

“They’re still prepping me for radiation,” Harry said after he let Austin sweat a bit. “I start it in three days, and it will probably kick me in the ass, but I’m not going to let it keep me down.”

Shep let out a shaky breath, and Shea ran her hand down his thigh.

“We’ll be here for a couple of weeks or so,” Shea said. “I can do most of my work from home at this point, and Shep’s coworkers at Midnight Ink don’t mind picking up the slack while we’re here. That means we can help with whatever you need.”

“You rented a car, did you?” Harry asked, and his brow rose.

“Yes, we wanted to be mobile,” Shea answered.

“Well, you can return the damn thing,” Harry said. “Take my car. I’m not going to be able to drive anyway.” Shea knew it had taken a lot for Harry to admit that, and she wanted to hug the man hard.

“Uncle Harry…” Shep began then shook his head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now let me hug that wife of yours again because it looks like she needs it.”

She did, but it looked like Harry needed it more. She hugged him again hard then pulled away as Austin and Shep did the same. Marie wrapped her arm around Shea’s shoulder and both women stood off to the side, still as stone.

It was clear to anyone that Harry was the center of the Montgomery family. If they lost him…well, Shea didn’t want to think about that. She put her hand over her stomach again, that worry sliding through her like it’d never left.

One thing at a time, she whispered to herself. One thing at a time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MIRANDA MONTGOMERY MIGHT BE the youngest in the family, but she wasn’t a kid anymore. Getting that idea into the thick skulls of her brothers and sisters, on the other hand, might take a miracle.

Forcing the man she’d loved for years to see that would be even harder.

Well, considering she was currently on a date with someone else so she could get that other man out of her head probably wasn’t helping things.

But there was only so much little-sister babying she could take.

She was twenty-three, done with school, and on the prowl.

She couldn’t help the grin at that thought. On the prowl? More like on a slow, steady march toward what she wanted. Right then, she was on a pit stop to make sure she wasn’t being an idiot though.

Just because she happened to love her big brother’s best friend didn’t mean he had to love her back.

Oh no. Decker Kendrick didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, and loving her wasn’t in the cards. Seeing her as an adult woman with needs seemed so far out of his scope that Miranda was just about to call it a lost cause.

“Miranda, darling, are you listening?” Edward, her date, asked, that pleasant smile on his face getting on her nerves.

It wasn’t that he tried to be annoying; he couldn’t help himself. Everything about him was pleasant. His not-too-tight and not-too-bright smile, his suit that wasn’t designer—but neither was it bargain priced—his job as an accountant that was middle of the road, his voice that wasn’t too deep, wasn’t too high, or anything else she could name. He was just…pleasant.

What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to this date?

Oh, yeah...that Decker hardly looked at her as anything more than a little sister and she hadn’t been on a date in months.

Miranda shook her head then calmly put her napkin down on the table. They’d gone out to a nice dinner that wasn’t too fancy, nor was it all that casual, either. The man had a theme for sure, and he wasn’t about the get off course.

“I’m sorry, Edward. I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to go home so I can make sure I’m ready for work in the morning.”

A Thursday evening date. Seriously? What had she been thinking? She had class in the morning and would have even more papers to grade after that. But she was trying not to be a homebody, and Thursday night dates with pleasant, boring Edward had been her answer.

Or not.

Edward frowned but not too deeply. “I’m sorry to hear that. You drove in. Are you able to drive yourself home?”

She’d driven in because she’d had a feeling she’d have to cut the date short. Also, her brothers would have killed her for going on a first date without an escape route.

“I’m good. Thank you for the evening.” She stood up, and he stood as well, gently kissing her hand.

And nada.

No spark.

“Rain check?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.

Instead of answering, Miranda gave him a small smile then said goodbye. She wasn’t about to crush his hopes in the middle of a restaurant, but she couldn’t go out with him again. Not when she was beyond bored.

She made her way home, then kicked off her heels and flopped on the couch. She’d get out of her dress and makeup in a bit. It was only seven thirty, so she had plenty of time.

Seven thirty.

Dear Lord, what a dull evening.

Miranda shouldn’t have said yes when Edward asked her out, but she’d wanted to get out of the house and get her mind off of the torment that wouldn’t go away.

Her dad had cancer, and she didn’t know how to deal with that. Others had made lists, done research, made food and brought it over, even though Mom could cook just fine at the moment. Miranda had hugged her dad and said she’d be there no matter what. Just tell her what to do.

It still scared the hell out of her.

She looked down at her phone and bit her lip. Austin might be done with dinner at the folks’ house with Shep and Shea. She’d just see how it went. Her big brother always knew what to do. She sent him a quick text asking how it went and smiled as he answered right away.

Good. As good as it can get. We just got to the house now, and I’m settling Shep and Shea in for the long haul. They’ll be here for a bit.

Miranda had to roll her eyes. For a man with fingers as big as his, her brother sure did type a lot in a text. Even as she smiled, she warmed. Shep was Austin’s age, so she hadn’t grown up with him as a sibling, but he’d been in her life for the whole of it. He still joked that he’d helped change her diapers.

Not something she liked to hear about, considering he’d once said it in front of her prom date.

I can’t wait to meet Shea.

You’ll like her. She’s tiny but powerful. We’ll be around, hon. Get some sleep. You have school in the morning.

Once a big brother, always a big brother. It didn’t matter that she was the teacher, in this case, and not the student. School came early in the morning anyway.

However, it wasn’t even eight yet, and she wanted to talk to her family. She dialed Meghan’s number, knowing the kids would be in bed by now and she’d have a better chance of reaching her sister.

“Hey you. What are you doing on the phone? I thought you’d be on your date.”

Miranda sighed at her sister’s words. “Edward was dull and boring. I’m home now.”

Meghan gave a soft laugh. “Honey, his name was Edward. You told me yourself you only thought of the sad sparkly vampire when you said his name.”

Miranda chuckled. “He wasn’t emo, Meghan. He was just…boring.”

“Well, you’re home now. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

I’m not. Edward wasn’t Decker, but Miranda wasn’t about to tell Meghan that.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, the usual...cleaning up vomit off the floor of the bathroom because Boomer decided to try to eat one of my shoes, and it didn’t agree with him.”

“Oh, poor Boomer,” Miranda said through held-back laughter.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Miranda Montgomery. That puppy might be the cutest thing ever, but he’s a devil. And Richard has had it up to—”

Her sister cut herself off, and Miranda wanted to scream. She hated Meghan’s husband, but she couldn’t voice it. She’d done it once, and her sister had told her not to judge what she didn’t understand.

So, she’d be the good sister, hold back, and be there for her no matter what. She’d just say bad things about Richard in her head…or to her other siblings.

Someone yelled on the other end of the line, and Miranda winced.

“Crap. Richard just found another puddle. I need to go. Love you, honey.”

She hung up before Miranda could say it back. Damn it. She was worried about Meghan just as she was about her dad. It sucked being the little sister where she couldn’t help, only stand back and pray that things would work out, being there if needed.

If only she was what Decker needed.

No, she wouldn’t think about that. Not now.

She knew love was hard. She’d seen it her whole life…but she’d been in love just as long. What was one more day?

CHAPTER TWELVE

SIERRA FELL ONTO HER BACK, her body sweaty, shaky, and sated. Her eyes threatened to close, but she forced them open. Morning sex—even great morning sex—meant she needed to get out of bed and rush to get ready if she wanted to make it to work.

Morning sex with Austin… Well, thankfully, he woke her up early pumping into her from behind; there was nothing quick and easy about the man.

“Don’t fall asleep, Austin,” she mumbled, her own body ready to rest again. She wouldn’t allow herself to curl into him for petting and care because she needed to get up and get ready for work. If she hurried through her shower—solo—she’d have time to eat before she went.

He sat up, running his hand over his beard. She blushed as she remembered the feel of his beard on her breasts and her pussy just a few moments before.

Dear Lord, she loved that beard.

His gaze caught hers, and he raised a brow. “I thought you said you needed to be at work. If you keep looking at me like that, we aren’t getting out of bed any time soon.”

She tried to jump out of bed but staggered since her legs were still a little jelly-like from that thorough wake-up call.

“Yes. Keep your hands off of me. I can’t think when you touch me.”

“Aw, Legs, that’s one of the best compliments you’ve given me.”

Sierra rolled her eyes then strolled naked to the bathroom, picking up her overnight bag on the way. She wasn’t ready to leave clothes or anything else at his house, as they’d only been dating for a couple weeks, and she wasn’t ready for that step. Packing an overnight bag, however, was good enough for her. There was no use lying to herself and saying she wouldn’t be sleeping over and then dealing with the fact she wouldn’t have any of her things the next morning.

“I’m going to jump in the shower and then blow out my hair.” She narrowed her eyes. “And, no, you can’t join me because I want to eat before work so the girls don’t yell at me, and if we shower together, we’d take twice as long since you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Austin grinned then stood up, naked and so freaking sexy Sierra had to keep her mouth closed lest she start drooling. His cock was only semi-hard considering they’d just finished coming less than five minutes ago, but, damn, he was big. Lucky her.

“You know, we’d save water if we share. Think of the planet, Legs.”

She rolled her eyes even as she walked into the bathroom to turn on the water and get about her morning business. She closed the door behind her, but he walked right in. Well then, apparently they were past privacy in their relationship.

That was fast.

She jumped in the shower while he did his own business, and Sierra thought about where her life had been and where it was now. Here she was in a pretty freaking serious relationship even though neither of them said it, and now she was sharing a bathroom with the man.

“By the way, Legs, the girls aren’t the only ones who’ll be pissed if you don’t take care of yourself and eat.”

“I’m going to eat as soon as I get out. Promise.” Her body warmed at the thought he cared for her in more ways than just in bed. They were slowly becoming more entwined in certain ways outside the bedroom. They ate lunches together during the day and had meals together at night. He’d fixed her window, and she helped him pick out curtains for, of all things, his living room. He made sure she ate, and she made sure he had a game plan when it came to helping his father deal with what was to come.

They were a couple, and there was no way she could deny it.

Not that she was sure she wanted to anymore.

By the time she got out of the shower and blew her hair out so it was decent for work, Austin was in the kitchen wearing only a pair of jeans and pouring oatmeal into bowls.

She smiled then walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey, Legs, you smell good,” he rumbled as he added fruit to hers and brown sugar to his. “I figured oatmeal would be better than bacon and eggs. I don’t have any yogurt, or I’d have made that for you.”

Sierra took the pot from his hands, set it down, and then stood on her tiptoes to cup his face. “Thank you.”

His gaze traced her face, then he lowered his lips to brush along hers. “You’re welcome, Legs. Now eat so we’re not late.”

“Don’t you need to shower?” she asked as she sat at the bar next to him.

“Yeah, but I can do that quick while you put on your makeup or whatever you need to finish up.”

They sounded so much like a married couple that Sierra had to take a step back. They hadn’t been together that long, but they sure were acting like it. One day at a time, she reminded herself. She wasn’t ready for marriage and babies—she wasn’t sure she’d ever be—but sitting there that morning she thought it could be a possibility.

“Did I fuck up the oatmeal?” he asked, and she blinked.

“What?”

“You just went pale for a second. You okay?”

She shook her head to clear it then smiled. “I’m fine.” Really. She was. For the first time she thought she could be. “What are you plans?”

“I have a couple consultations, then I have to work on a client’s leg for most of the day. I’ll be free at noon for an hour or so for lunch and then will be busy until I get off work. You?”

She nibbled on a strawberry. “I need to go over the books while I’m not up front. I’ll have lunch off, but I’ll probably be working late since books take forever.”

Austin licked his spoon then stood up, taking their empty bowls to the sink. “I should be done by seven or so for a late dinner if you just want to come over here. I’ll pick up Chinese, and we can just relax.”

“Two nights in a row?” she asked.

“You got a problem with that?” He stood right in front of her, his body big but his presence bigger.

She thought about it then shook her head. “No. Actually, I like it. Pull me out of the books when you get done, or I’ll end up there all night. I’ll have to stop by my house and pick up another change of clothes while you get the food.”

“You know, it would be easier if you just left things here.”

She let out a breath. “True, but I’m not ready for that. Okay?”

He nodded then kissed her again. “Okay. I’m going to go jump in the shower. I’ll be quick.”

She smiled up at him and wondered how the hell she’d ended up here and, at the same time, didn’t want to leave.

By the time lunch rolled around, Sierra’s nerves were fraying. It had been a non-stop morning with customer after costumer needing one-on-one care. While that normally would have made her feel like she was on top of the world, her books were calling her name. Jasinda had the flu, and that meant Sierra was on her own for the day.

Not something she could have handled if it wasn’t for sheer perseverance.

Lunch with Austin had been hurried since they both had to get back to work. She ignored Hailey’s pointed look followed by mouthing the word “oaf” over Austin’s back. So, Sierra had gotten it wrong before. Whatever. She’d judged, and so had he, but they were past it.

Now, thankfully, there was a lull, the store being empty, and Sierra could catch her breath. Eden was still going great in this first month of opening and she knew she’d have to hire another person soon so she wouldn’t burn out. There was only so much she could do.

The bell over the door rang, and Sierra turned to see who it was, only to have her smile freeze on her face

She remembered that woman and her prey.

Shannon.

Austin’s ex.

Oh, goodie.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” she clipped out through a false smile. The ice princess was back, but she didn’t give a damn. From the gleam in Shannon’s eyes, the other woman wasn’t there for a scarf or dress.

No, she was there for another reason entirely.

Whatever.

Shannon lifted a lip in what might have been a smile but was more of a smirk. “I’m just browsing. I’m not sure you’ll have anything that appeals to my…taste and quality here.”

So it was going to be like that, was it? Good to know. Sierra really didn’t like jealous women who gauged their self-worth by the men they snared in their web. Shannon was one of those few who gave women a bad rep, and she had no use for her.

“I’ll be around if you need me then. Enjoy.”

Shannon lifted a red-tipped finger. “Actually, sugar, I have something to say.”

Sierra folded her hands in front of her. “Yes?”

The other woman’s eyes narrowed. Sierra wouldn’t back down though. This woman meant nothing to her other than being in Austin’s past. In fact, if it wasn’t for Shannon being who she was and Sierra’s muttered comment when they’d first met, she and Austin might never have met the way they did. Who knows what would have happened otherwise?

“I don’t know who you think you are walking into my town and acting like you’re the shit, but you’re not good enough for him. You’ll bore Austin in another week or less, and then he’ll be back to me. He always comes back to me.”

Well, that was a lie in so many ways that Sierra wouldn’t even bother to contradict her. “If that’s how you feel, you can keep thinking that, sugar. However you’re boring me, so you can go now if you’re not going to purchase anything. Claim whoever you’d like, but you won’t be chasing me away.”

She’d done enough running in her lifetime as it was.

“You’re an ice-cold bitch, you know that?”

Sierra raised a brow. “I’ve heard that a few times in my life.” From Jason’s parents actually, but she wasn’t going to think about that. “If we’re done, I have a business to run.”

Shannon snarled then stomped out of the store. Well, that was dramatic and not worth her time. She’d have to tell Austin about it so it wouldn’t come as a surprise later, but it wouldn’t be worth the time. The other woman had thrown away something special, and Sierra was just now beginning to realize what she could have if fate worked her way.

Fate hadn’t worked her way in the past, however, so she knew better than to get her hopes up.

Becky ran through the door at that moment, her face red. “I’m here. I’m here. Traffic was horrible. Accident on 70, but I’m here now. Go in the back and work on the books, and I can handle it here.”

Sierra snorted then hugged the woman hard. “Thanks, honey. I don’t want to think about numbers right now, but I don’t have a choice.”

Becky wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want to either, but that’s why you’re the boss and I’m the lowly peasant.”

“Peasant my butt.” The bell rang again, and Sierra stepped away. “Have fun; I’m going to go drown in numbers.”

“Better you than me,” Becky mumbled before sighing and greeting the two women walking in.

Sierra went to her small office in the back, sat down, and took off her shoes. She stretched her toes and cursed the person who invented stilettos. It must have been a man.

Her cellphone buzzed, and she picked it up, not looking at the caller ID. “This is Sierra.”

“There you are. I knew we’d find your number. There’s no use hiding from us. We will always find you, you murderer.”

Sierra almost dropped the phone at the cruelty and anger in the voice.

The voice that shouldn’t have been able to find her so quickly, but there was a restraining order in place for this.

“Marsha, you know you shouldn’t be calling me.” She swallowed hard, her palms clammy, her vision blurring.

“You think I care what a little piece of paper says? You killed my son, you little bitch. You killed him, and yet you get to walk away free and open your little shop like you don’t care. You weren’t good enough for Jason, and you turned him into a freak with your trollop ways.”

Sierra closed her eyes, trying to find the strength not to yell back, not to do anything but hang up and call her lawyer. Marsha and Todd couldn’t hurt her anymore. They couldn’t take anything else from her that she hadn’t already lost because of one careless action.

“You need to leave me alone, Marsha. Jason is gone, and we can’t bring it back. But I didn’t kill him.” If she kept saying that, maybe she’d believe it.

“You killed my son!” Marsha screamed into the phone, and Sierra couldn’t hang up.

She deserved some of the taint on her. The scars on her body hadn’t been enough.

The familiar echo of thoughts she’d thought she destroyed went on a loop in her.

Murderer.

Killer.

Slut.

Freak.

Tainted.

Whore.

All the words Marsha had used over and over again when they’d lost their son would never be banished from Sierra’s memory no matter how hard she tried to scrub them clean.

She’d always be dirty.

Scarred.

“Sierra, this is Todd.”

She held back a sob at Jason’s father’s words. The man never yelled, never showed any other emotion except clear indifference.

“Yes, Todd?” God, why was she subjecting herself to his? Why was she allowing this man and woman to ruin her life again?

She didn’t deserve it. She tried to tell herself…but it didn’t ring true.

“Marsha made the unfortunate decision of allowing her emotions to rule her call today; however, none of what she said was false. You are the one who laid false claims on the memory of our son. You were the one who led him down the dark path of the sickness that is Dominance and submission. I realize now you’re truly mentally ill and need a man to tell you what to do to live. In order to do that, you ruined our boy. You made him believe he had to hit you, and in doing that, you hurt him. That would have been cruel enough, but then you killed him that night.”

Sierra’s body shook, the familiar refrain slamming into like a lethal blow. It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe Todd’s words. The fact that the man and his wife believed them beyond any degree of doubt made it matter.

“We are not done, Sierra. We will never be done until we have justice.”

He hung up then, and Sierra stared down at her phone, her body going numb. She’d thought she’d been so safe, so free. She’d tried to find a place to call her own, a man to do the same.

Yet it would never be enough.

Damn it. She wasn’t this person. She wasn’t weak or something to be spat on because people didn’t understand. What they thought was evil and tainted they fought against.

After she wiped her face with a scarf she had in her drawer, she called her lawyer, ready to fight. Or at least put on a brave face when she lied to herself.

A woman answered the phone, and Sierra cleared her throat, holding back the tears that would take over if she didn’t find the way to be stronger than the person others had made.

“I need to speak to Mr. Trust,” Sierra said, surprised that her voice was so clear. Flat maybe, but not shaky.

“He’s in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Tell him it’s Sierra Elder, and I need to talk to him immediately.”

“Oh, Ms. Elder, Mr. Trust told me you might be calling. He said to put you through right away. Please hold.”

Well, it seemed that Rodney was expecting her call. What could she make of that? Clearly. something was going on that meant Jason and her past were far from over.

“Sierra, damn it. I was going to call you after I got more information, but from this call, I guess I was too late?”

Rodney was a middle-aged man who’d never been married because he’d married his job long ago. He might have put on a little weight around the middle, but other than that, he still looked like he was her age. He’d been on her side from the beginning, her only friend when everything had gone to hell.

If she had been ready for a lover when they’d first met, she knew they’d have found each other in bed. By the time she was ready, though, they’d passed into the stage where they needed each other more as friends than a causal fling.

The man worked like a dog and had protected her when no one else would.

Now it seemed he’d have to do it again.

“Marsha and Todd called me,” she whispered. She didn’t need to be as strong for Rodney…much like she didn’t need to be around Austin.

She’d deal with that thought later.

“Damn it. You have the restraining order in place.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They didn’t call from their number, and I didn’t record it. What can I do? I don’t care anymore, Rodney. I just want to move on.”

He let out a breath, and Sierra wanted to throw the phone. “They’re not going to make that easy, honey.”

“What are they doing now?”

“They’ve tried criminal suits out the ass, and that hasn’t worked. They don’t have a leg to stand on. Now they’re going through the civil courts and trying to find a way to make you pay. If they can’t get you in jail, they’re going after everything else you have.”

“Eden,” she breathed.

“Eden. Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m working on what I can, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop this one from going to court. If they base it on emotional damage to themselves rather than what happened to Jason and get a sympathetic judge, they could find a way in.”

Her stomach revolted, but she held down her lunch. God, her lunch? It seemed like ages ago that she’d sat with Austin and seen his face and those gorgeous blue eyes.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to try to find a way to fix this, Sierra.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Just because they might get it to court—honestly, they don’t have a legal leg to stand on—doesn’t mean they’ll win.”

“They lost their son, Rodney.”

“You lost him too,” he snapped back. “You lost so much more.” He let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m working on it and will keep you posted. Live your life, Sierra. Try to find a way to make it. Okay?”

“I’ll try.” They said their goodbyes then hung up.

It seemed the past would never leave her. It would always lurk in the corner like a shadow. She looked down at her books and shook her head. She wouldn’t be able to think tonight. They would have to be put off until tomorrow.

She would just go home, take a bath, drink a glass of wine, and try to forget it for a moment. Wait, no, she couldn’t do that. Austin was expecting her at his place.

“Sierra?”

Speak of the devil.

She looked up at Austin and lost it. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she let out sob. He was on her in an instant.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” He picked her up like she was nothing and held her to his chest before sitting down in her chair. It creaked, and she prayed it didn’t break under their combined weight.

He soothed her while she cried, kissing her softly and running his hands down her side.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she was done.

“Baby, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” She would she realized. She’d tell him everything. He’d seen her scars, yet he’d never asked her about it. He’d trusted that she’d tell him eventually and now that time had come.

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go to your place, and then we can talk.”

He searched her face then nodded. “I don’t want you driving though, okay? I’ll have Maya and Jake take your car home when they get done, if that’s okay. We’ll get your stuff and then head to my place.”

She nodded, feeling drained. “I’ll tell you, Austin. I’ll tell you everything.”

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay, then. Let’s get you home.”

Home.

She liked the sound of that.

She just prayed that when she told Austin her story he wouldn’t ask her to leave.

The world might have shattered around her before, but if Austin sent her away, she knew she’d find only a broken piece of herself left behind.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AUSTIN LET the wheat taste of his beer slide down his throat as he watched Sierra out on his deck while he leaned against the opening of the sliding glass doors. She stood at the railing, her hair free and blowing in the wind. The sun was just setting, and the orange and pinks in the sky reminded Austin of why he loved his home and his city.

He was surrounded by nature even though he could drive two minutes and find civilization.

Right then he wanted to clutch Sierra to his side and protect her from the world. Something had scared her today. Something so bad she’d easily given in to his orders and control. She hadn’t batted an eyelash when he took her car keys away and drove her to her place. He’d packed up her things while she told him what she wanted. He hadn’t wanted her to lift a finger.

The fact that she let him spoke volumes.

They ordered Chinese and had it delivered, though both of them only picked at their food. He didn’t want to pressure her to tell him what had spooked her since lunch, but if she didn’t start talking soon, he just might do it.

He dominated in the bedroom, not in everyday life, but when she looked so lost, so broken, he’d do what he had to in order to keep her safe.

Sierra Elder had come to mean more to him than he’d thought possible in such a short amount of time.

To hell with it.

He set his beer down on the outside table then went to her. When he pressed his front to her back, caging her in, she leaned into him. She tilted her head up, and he took her mouth in an easy kiss.

“What happened after lunch, baby?”

She turned in his arms then wrapped hers around his waist. He didn’t hesitate and hugged her close, resting his cheek on her head.

“I don’t know how to start.”

He pulled back then tugged on her hand, picked up his beer and led her to the living room. He sat down on the couch and pulled her into his lap.

“Start with right after lunch. Who bothered you?”

She blinked at him then snorted. “Oh, well, before I go into what the, shall we say, bad part, someone did come in after lunch and bothered me.”

Austin narrowed his eyes. “Who?” he growled.

“Now don’t freak out because I handled this part on my own. I just thought you should know.”

“Who?”

“Shannon.”

“That fucking bitch. What did she say to you?” Hell. He’d call the cops and get a restraining order at this point. He could take it just fine, but no one was allowed to bother Sierra. No one.

“She did her whole song and dance about how you’re hers and all that crap. It didn’t bother me other than it happened in my place of business. I handled it, Austin. I honestly think she’s just bored and will go away once she finds something new. She just needs something—or someone in this case—to do. Don’t worry about it.”

He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, pissed that his past was coming out to bother his present. “I don’t have that many exes, but it seems one I do have is trying to fuck it all up.”

“Trying, but not doing it. It’s fine. She’ll get bored when she gets ignored, and we’ll move on. On that note, do you have any other exes I should hear about?”

Austin blushed a bit. “Uh, not really. I haven’t heard from any of them. I think Maggie is in town, but it’s been years since I’ve seen her. Most of them are married, I think. I mean married now. Not that they were married when we were together. You know what I mean.”

Sierra kissed his bearded cheek. “I get it.” She let out a breath, and Austin tensed. “Now, about my ex.”

“Jason?”

She nodded. “Jason. Damn it. Okay, so you know about my past with him a bit in terms of our relationship, and you’ve seen my scars.”

She closed her eyes, and Austin held still. If he moved or breathed loudly, she might stop speaking, and he knew she needed to get this out.

Not only for him, but for herself as well.

“They’re connected.”

“Did he do this to you?” he ground out.

Sierra’s eyes opened, and she shook her head. “Not in the way you think. We were in an accident. And it was my fault. I killed him.”

Austin’s heart stopped.

“You what?” He shook his head. “Just tell me it all. Tell me about what happened and why you think you killed him. Then tell me how that relates to how I found you in your office today.”

“He had an old Harley he loved,” she said then licked her lips.

“Riding,” he muttered. “Oh damn.”

“Yeah. Damn.”

Her gaze met his, and he had to suck in a breath. The strength he saw there made him want to hold her close and never let her go. She might feel she was weak, but she was wrong. He’d do whatever was in his power to make sure she understood.

“We rode everywhere,” she started again. “We were young, in love, carefree. You know how that goes.”

Not exactly, but the burning knot of something he’d rather not delve too deeply into started to tighten. “How old were you again?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Nineteen.” When his eyes widened, she snorted. “Yeah. I know. Nineteen and in love. We were both in college going for business degrees. He was going to work for his father, and I was going to open my own boutique, and we’d have babies and ride into the sunset. Damn, those dreams were so big for teenagers, but I thought it could happen. I truly thought we could take over our part of the world and live happily ever after.”

Jason had been the center of her life back then. Sierra was a full nine years younger than he, something Jason never really thought about, but she’d been in love and lived in a way Austin would never understand.

Now that she was in his life, though, Austin was just starting to comprehend that kind of feeling, that kind of need, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on it, not when she was in the past with the man she’d loved before him.

“We worked well together. At least I thought we did.”

“What do you mean?”

“My in-laws, well, those people I thought of as my in-laws since Jason and I were only engaged and not actually married, hated me.”

He cupped her face. “How could anyone hate you?” The irony that he’d tried to hate her before he even met her didn’t escape him, but that had been his own prejudice.

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t good enough for their precious baby boy. They had money. Lots of it. I didn’t. I came from the middle class. My parents worked their asses off to get me money for college, and I worked on the side to pay for room and board as well. CU is expensive.”

Austin nodded. He knew that, though he’d never gone to college. All of his siblings who’d gone to school went there. He’d taken business classes at UCD, the offshoot of CU, so he could be ready for Montgomery Ink, but that was it. He’d never felt like he needed more, and honestly, he still didn’t.

“My parents were older when they had me and died about five years ago. Well, my dad did from a heart attack and my mother three months later with a brain aneurysm. So now I’m all alone, but I’ve moved off track.”

Austin cupped her face. So much loss in such a short time. “I’m sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. “I’m okay now. I know they’re together, and I had started to move on, but now I’m really off my story.” She took a deep breath. “So Jason. Him. We rode together on the weekends when I wasn’t working. He didn’t have to work since his parents took care of him. I hated it a bit at the time since he could go off and do what he wanted and I had to work my ass off serving tables, but it really didn’t bother me too much. Money didn’t matter to me other than to save it. Jason was always a little spoiled, I get that now, but he couldn’t help it. Not with the kind of parents he had.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“They hated me. God, how Marsha and Todd hated me. Still hate me. Not only did they think I wasn’t good enough for him, but right before he died, they found out about the D/s part of our relationship.”

“Shit,” he mumbled. He could only guess how they’d reacted. A lot of people didn’t understand the lifestyle. He wasn’t out in the open with it unless he trusted people because he didn’t want it to hurt his family and business.

“Yeah. Shit. They called me a whore and said I was abusing him. They said that I was some sick pervert that needed to be hit so I must have tainted their poor son and forced him to flog me. They even went to the cops and said I made Jason choke and cut me.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I was never into breath or blood play. I’m still not, but they went to the cops with the most taboo things they could find on the Internet and tried to get me out of Jason’s life.”

“Fucking bastards.” To take something so precious between a Dom and sub and turn it out into the public like that? Fuck, he didn’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Pretty much. The cops couldn’t do anything, thankfully. Jason and I were open and honest with them, and we got lucky in the fact that one of the cops was also a Dom. He took care of us and kept an eye out just in case Marsha and Todd tried a different tactic.”

“Thank God for him then.”

“I know, right? So, the bad part.” She shook her head as if trying to clear the cobwebs. “We took a day off to ride up to the edge of Pike’s Peak. We didn’t like to ride all the way up because that’s freaking dangerous and cold, but we liked the drive through the Springs and such.”

“I get it.” If he kept her talking, she’d eventually get to the bad part and then to why she’d freaked out when he saw her in her office. Jesus, even with what she’d told him, it was enough to make anyone have a breakdown.

“So we were on our way back, and the sun had set so we had our lights on and our night glasses on for the wind and glare. We even had helmets on, though Jason hated his. I wouldn’t let him on the bike without it or his leathers if we were going for a long ride. I was a little mouthy back then, so I got my way.”

He didn’t mention that she still was, but he liked her that way. He didn’t want a doormat in his life; he wanted fire and ice.

“What happened, baby?”

She closed her eyes and flinched, as if she was reliving whatever had happened. He brought her closer, letting his lips rest on her brow. His hand caressed her back, letting her know he was there.

“We were on a side street on our way to the highway since we didn’t want to deal with all back roads in the dark. There were a couple of cars, but not that many since it wasn’t rush hour and it was the weekend. It had been an amazing day and ride. We’d stopped for lunch and even made love in the forest on the way up there. We almost got caught but got lucky. It was seriously the perfect day. I had just wrapped my arm around his waist and yelled that I loved him. You know how you can’t hear a thing over the wind, so I yelled. Right in his ear.”

Fuck. He didn’t want to hear the rest because that meant she’d have to tell it, but they both had to go through with it.”

“Jason turned to me and yelled it back. He shouldn’t have, but we weren’t thinking. We were just…happy.”

A lone tear slid down her cheek and he kissed it away. He didn’t want to see her cry and didn’t want to see her in pain, but he couldn’t kiss it all away.

“We didn’t see the train tracks until it was too late.”

“Fuck, did you…”

“There wasn’t a train, but the tracks were at an angle to the street. So instead of going at the ninety-degree angle you need to on his bike at our speed, we hit it awkwardly. The bike went down, and we both flew off of it. I skidded down the right side of the road and shredded my leathers. Jason ended up in oncoming traffic.”

Dear. God.

“A semi on the way to the highway hit him at full speed. He didn’t have a chance. The back tires slammed into the bike and caused an explosion. I had just turned over to see my fiancé die, hit by a truck, and then parts of the bike that were on fire slammed into my side. It was only a small part, but the burns and impact crushed three of my ribs and tore into one of my lungs. I don’t remember much after that.”

“Oh baby, oh fuck.” He gently held her close, as if she was still as broken as she’d been the day of the accident ten years ago.

She wrapped her arms around him and hung on tight, tighter than he held her. Taking that as encouragement, he gripped harder, never wanting to let her go.

Her shoulders shook as she sobbed in his arms, and he felt his own tears track down his face into his beard. She’d been so young and so fucking lucky that she’d lived through that. To have to watch her fiancé die like that…hell…he didn’t know how she survived.

“You’re so fucking strong, Sierra. You lived, and you’re still here. To do that…baby, you’re so fucking strong,” he repeated.

She pulled back, confusion in her gaze, before she kissed him softly. “Thank you for that. I don’t always feel it, and back then, I knew I was weak. That’s what I kept telling myself over and over again. That’s what Marsha, Todd, and their lawyers kept saying.”

“You were never weak.”

“Thank you,” she whispered then cleared her throat. “Jason died on impact. He was still alive when the semi came because I remember him looking up at me one last time, but he would have died quickly after that according to the doctors. I was in a medically induced coma for four days before I finally woke up.”

He ran his hand up and down her back, feeling incompetent. He didn’t know how to take her pain, but he could do his best to comfort her.

“It took months of surgeries, skin grafts, and agony before I was able to leave the hospital and not have a home nurse. By then, I had dropped out of college and moved back in with my parents.”

Sierra bit her lip then shook her head. “I eventually went back and got my degree, but it took a hell of a lot longer than I’d planned. My parents died before they could see me graduate.”

“Oh, baby.”

“I know, but they were there for me when I really needed them. Not with just the healing and PT stuff. You see it was an accident according to the cops. At first.”

She met his gaze, and Austin held back a curse.

“I told you Todd and Marsha had money. Well, they used that money to stir their grief and found a judge who looked into the case. They did all they could to find me criminally responsible for his son’s death. They even tried to sue the semi driver, though he’d done nothing wrong. He called the police and saved my life by putting pressure on my wounds, but Jason’s parents didn’t care. In fact, I think they blamed the man for saving my life.”

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head. “No. No I’m not. They told me flat-out to my face that I should have died in that accident and not him. They told me, and had the judge convinced, through money or idiocy, that if I hadn’t forced Jason into the lifestyle, he would have been in the right mind never to get on the death trap of the bike in the first place. They told everyone they could that I must have done something on the back of the bike—sexual or violent depending on who spoke, Marsha or Todd—to cause the accident. They went on and on, trying to get me in jail.”

“None of that would have brought back their son,” he bit out.

“I know that. The cops knew that. The other judges knew that. We never went to court, thank God. They didn’t have a case. It took years and many threats, but I was finally able to move on. By then, my parents were dead, and I had scars on my body that weren’t as deep as the ones on my heart. The cops on the scene ruled it an accident, and though it was, it took me a long time to see that myself. In fact, I still don’t believe it some days. I still feel like I’m the one who killed him.”

He cupped her face, anger running in his veins at the situation and the idea that she’d think that and blame herself for something so far out of her control; it was crazy.

“You did nothing wrong. You loved a man, and you both had an accident.”

“That’s not all,” she whispered, the darkness in her gaze forcing Austin to hold himself back.

“What?”

“I was pregnant when we went down.”

“Fuck,” he grunted then tugged her close. “Oh, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I didn’t know it at the time and lost the baby due to the trauma. When Jason’s parents found out—I’d been drugged up because of the pain and let it slip—they blamed me for that death as well. I lost my baby and Jason all in one day and yet they compounded the whole situation.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sierra. There are no words, and yet all I want to do is hold you and try to make it better.”

“I know. And the fact that you’re here holding me makes it better in some ways. I’ve never told anyone about this, not the girls at work, not even Hailey, though she knows some of it.” She met his gaze, her shoulders squaring. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get pregnant again, Austin. I don’t know if babies are in my future.”

He let out a shaky breath. Yeah, he wanted kids, and the more time he spent with Sierra made him think that she was the one for him, but there were other ways.

“When, and if, we come to that, we will deal with it,” he said softly. “There are other methods of having children, and I’m not going to leave you because of something that might not happen. You get me?”

“I get you,” she whispered.

“Good. Now tell me how this connects with how I found you at work today.”

She sighed then told him about the phone call and what her lawyer had said. Each new piece of information set Austin’s teeth on edge. It took all in his power not to clench his fists and end up bruising Sierra in some way because he couldn’t control himself.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“No. It’s not over, and that pisses me off.”

“Good, an angry Sierra is better than the one who thinks she can’t do anything. I like it when you’re all icy and have your chin up. You can take on the world then.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and he wished he could take those words back. Maybe he’d been too honest.

“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.” She snorted. “I know that sounds crazy, but the fact that you believe in me means so much.”

He kissed her softly then pulled back so they were eye to eye. “Of course I believe in you. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve never given up. And one thing, you’re not alone. You get that? You’ve got me and the Montgomerys on your side. We’re not letting these bastards hurt you. You’re mine, Sierra Elder, and I’m not letting go.”

He’d never said those words to another person before, and he knew one day soon he’d also tell her the other three words he’d never uttered to someone who wasn’t his family.

“I…thank you,” she whispered.

“Anything, Sierra. Know that. I’ll do anything you need me to do.” Including kill those bastards who thought they could hurt her.

She looked him straight in the eye, her chin rising. “Make me yours in truth, Austin.”

He froze. “What?”

“You’ve done so much for me, but I’ve never done anything for you.”

“Sierra, just you being you does it for me.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean I’ve never served you. I want to take our relationship to the next level. I want to care for you the way we both need. I want you to do what you need as well. I want to find that trust and work toward something more.”

No sweeter words had ever reached his ears.

There was only one thing to say.

“Kneel.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SIERRA STARTLED FOR ONLY A MOMENT—the fact she hadn’t done this is in so long was almost jarring—before sliding off Austin’s lap to the floor. He’d ordered her to kneel, and just that one word sent shivers down her spine.

She’d opened up to him in a way she’d never opened up to anyone, and now she wanted more. From the look in Austin’s eyes, he wanted the same.

It should have been fear or anxiety running through her veins at the thought of giving herself body and soul to another man, but it wasn’t. Instead, the need and desire burning through her body ignited a torch she prayed would never be extinguished.

Still clothed, she sank to her knees on the floor, her legs spread and her hands palms up on her thighs. She kept her chin raised and her gaze downward. Normally, she would do this nude, but as this was starting something new for the both of them, they’d take it one step at a time.

Her breasts ached for his touch, her pussy wet and ready with just that one word from him. She would have thought that after everything she’d just told him she wouldn’t be ready for him so quickly, but she couldn’t help herself.

She wanted Austin Montgomery.

Now.

Austin stood up so he was in front of her. He cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze to his. “You look beautiful, Sierra. This gift you’ve given me…I’m going to take care of you. Do you understand me?”

She nodded.

“You understand?”

“Yes, Austin. I do.”

“Good. Now you say you want to serve me? Tell me exactly what you mean. This first time, while we’re still understanding each other, we’ll talk about each thing before we do it. We will eventually get to know each other well enough that words won’t be necessary, but for now, I need you to tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Austin.” She licked her lips. “I want to suck your cock and serve you.”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes danced. “Good. I want your mouth on my dick. What else do you want? What do you want me to do with your body?”

Everything? No, she couldn’t say that. She needed to be specific.

“I want you to play with my nipples.”

His hand went to her breast, cupping her softy even as his gaze remained on her. “I can do that. You want to go harder?” She nodded. “Good. I’m going to put you in nipple clamps. I want to see those reddened nipples. I want to see your eyes widen as I take them off and have to suck on them to help with the sting.”

Dear Lord, this man was good at dirty talk.

“What else, Sierra?”

“I…I want you to flog me.”

There. She said it. After all they had talked about, she needed the feel of leather on her skin. Austin had told her he was a master with the flogger, but they’d never played that way. Oh how she wanted his attention solely on her as he delivered those sweet lashes.

He growled slightly, and she grew wetter.

“I want to see my mark on your body.” Her eyes widened and he narrowed his. “My mark isn’t the same as your scars, Sierra. My mark will be something for the both of us, something to desire, to feel.” She let out a breath and he nodded. “I’ll flog your back, your sides, your ass. I want to see how red you get before I soothe your aches and fuck you hard. Tonight we’ll do both of those things after you suck my dick and swallow my come.” He pulled his hand back from her cheek, and she felt the loss.

“Undo my pants and take my cock out. Hold it in your hand but don’t let your lips touch it.”

Nervous, she looked past him at the open windows that covered the wall floor to ceiling.

Austin’s hand went to her hair, wrapping it around his fist. He pulled. Hard. “Don’t look at the windows. I didn’t tell you to do that. I told you to get my cock out. No one can see inside here even when it’s dark and I have the lights on. The windows are specially tinted so we can see outside, but they can’t see in. If you think I’d let anyone else see you on your knees in front of me, you’re disrespecting me.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes at the thought that she’d already messed up. She was out of practice, and Austin was so different than Jason.

Damn it.

Jason wasn’t allowed in her mind anymore. He was gone, and she wanted to serve Austin. She quickly undid the button on his jeans then slowly slid the zipper down. He was wearing boxer briefs, and because he already had an erection, she didn’t want to hurt him.

Her hands went to the waist of his jeans and slid them down over his ass so she could get a better angle. Then she took his boxer briefs and did the same. His cock sprang out, almost hitting her in the face.

If it had been any other situation, she would have laughed, but all she wanted was to taste him and have him fill her. She loved Austin’s cock. Loved the look of it, the feel of it in her hands, in her pussy. She wanted to know his taste. He’d yet to let her do that, and now she’d have a chance.

Sierra licked her lips then wrapped her hand around his erection. Her thumb and middle finger couldn’t touch, and her eyes widened. She knew he was big, had felt it, but hell.

“Good girl. Now run your hand up and down that way. Feel all of me. Then take your free hand and cup my balls.”

Eager, she did as he said, loving the soft feel over hardness.

“Let the head of my cock sit on your tongue. Just the tip.”

Yes. This was what she’d been missing. She opened her mouth and let the crown of his cock lay on her tongue. She kept her hands on him as well since he hadn’t told her to do otherwise.

“Suck on it.”

She closed her mouth and sucked, running the tip of her tongue around the edge then along the slit. Austin sucked in a breath so she knew he liked that.

“Swallow as much as you can then pull back. Then keep going. Get me as hard as possible and almost to the point of coming. Serve me.”

She held back a groan then opened her mouth, letting her jaw hang open. She swallowed as much of him as she could, even taking some of him down her throat, but she couldn’t take all of his cock. When she slid back up, she let her teeth gently graze him, but not too hard. Austin hissed, and she held back a smile.

“You don’t have a gag reflex?” he grunted out.

She pulled away, letting him go with a pop. “Not really.”

“Fuck, we’re going to have so much fun.”

She met his gaze then smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

His hand was still wrapped in her hair, so he pushed her closer to his cock. Taking that as a cue, she swallowed him again then pulled back. She licked, nibbled, and kissed down his length before repeating the process. Then she pushed his dick up so it pressed against his belly to give her better access to his balls. She let them fill her mouth one at a time, rolling them on her tongue. When he groaned, she went back to his length and sucked some more. She increased her pace and hollowed her cheeks, using all she could to get him going. When the first spurt of come hit her tongue, she squeezed his cock with her fist then opened her mouth wider. He shouted her name and came down her throat. She slurped him up, missing a few drops, but not caring. They slid down her chin, and she’d never felt more naughty.

Well, maybe, but right then, she didn’t care.

When he was done, he pulled away then stripped off his shirt. He wiped her chin then bent to kiss her.

Hard.

“You’re such a good girl, Sierra. You’re mine.”

“Yours, Austin.”

He stood straight then tucked himself back into his pants before holding out his hand. She put hers in his then stood up. “Follow me.”

He led her to the basement, each step she took sending shivers and aches down her spine right to her clit. When he took her into a room she’d never seen before, she held back a gasp. He had everything they would need in his small, personal dungeon. It wasn’t fancy or too expensively done, but it looked safe and sexy as hell.

“Stand in the center while I undress you.”

She did so, clasping her hands in front of her. Her chest hurt from her heart beating so hard. He stripped off her shirt, and she had to put her arms up to help him. Then he undid her bra and took off her pants, leaving her naked to his gaze.

He walked around her, inspecting her. She’d never felt so naked, bare in front of another person, yet so cared for at the same time.

When he came around again so he stood in front of her, he smiled. “You’re beautiful, baby. I love that you don’t shave your pussy but trim it. Your scars only make you look stronger. And your breasts? Fuck, I can’t wait to see them in clamps.”

Her knees shook as he left her to get the clamps from one of the drawers on a side table. He came back, and she felt like she could climax right then. He lowered his head, taking one nipple in his mouth. He sucked and teased until it was so hard she felt like she was breaking. When he put the clamp on, she sucked in a breath. Oh, God, it hurt, but in the best way possible. He did the same to her other breast, and she had to hold herself back from squirming. She was so wet she knew that if he looked he’d see it. That alone pushed her to the edge.

He kissed her again, a fierce show of strength and caring, nibbling on her bottom lip as he pulled back. “Go stand in front of the cross, facing the wall. Do you need me to tie you to it? Or are you going to be a good girl and hold on tight?”

Both ideas made her warm. “I can hold on.”

He raised a brow. “If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

Right then, she’d take it, but she wanted to see if she could do it.

She went to the cross and put her arms on the slats, facing the wall. She could hear him looking through something, but she couldn’t look back and see. He hadn’t told her she could.

When the tail of something soft and smelling of leather brushed along her back, she gasped, but didn’t let go of the cross.

Austin came to her side and gripped her chin so she could face him. “This is our first time, so instead of surprising you or letting you tell me what things are just by touch, I’m going to show you. This is elk hide and buttery soft.” He held up a yellow flogger that looked almost brand new. She must have given something away because he nodded. “It’s new. Everything I will touch you with will be new. You’re the first woman I’ve brought here in ten years.

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

“Now we’re going to go slow today. I won’t go too hard. I don’t break the skin nor will I use anything different than what is in my hand right now. Do you know your safe word?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Good girl. Face the wall.”

She did so and heard him move to her back. She closed her eyes, waiting.

The first touch of leather against the meat of her shoulder stunned her, the quick sting of pain receding into pleasure. He did the same to her other shoulder, then her lower back, ass, and thighs. He increased the pace slightly, never striking the same spot twice in a row. The pain gave way to warmth that went straight to her clit. Her breathing slowed, and she knew her pupils had dilated, the sweet pain becoming bliss.

Soon, she couldn’t remember how much time had passed until she felt his hands on her back, and her ass.

“Let go of the cross,” he whispered.

She let go and swayed on her feet, leaning into his hold. He soothed her, kissing her softly, running his hands over her body. He released each nipple clamp, sucking the nipples into his mouth before the hurt came.

“Come on, baby girl. You did so well. You look so fucking hot right now with my marks on you.”

He picked her up and pulled her to his chest. She closed her eyes, letting her body relax even further in his care. When he set her on the bed, she laid down, her legs spreading of their own accord.

She felt so good.

Austin came back and wiped her down with a cool cloth, caring for her like she was the most precious thing in the world. He brought a glass of water up to her lips, and she drank greedily.

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your submission to me, Sierra. I want to fill your pussy and make you come. Are you ready for me?”

She blinked up at him, her mind finally regaining focus. She hadn’t come yet because he’d been careful not to touch her clit.

“Yes, Austin. Make me come.”

He lowered himself to her, kissed her hard, and then spread kisses down her body until he reached her clit. He licked her once, and she came.

Her eyes shot open, and she bucked off the bed. He held her down and lapped up her juices. She was so wet that she could even hear him feasting on her. It was so fucking sexy that she was already on the verge of coming again. He nibbled on her pussy, spearing her with his tongue before fucking her with his fingers.

She came again when he pressed on that inner bundle of nerves, the muscles clamping around his fingers.

When he pulled away, she whimpered.

“Face down and on your knees. I want that ass in the air.”

She rolled over as he went for a condom. When she laid her cheek down on the mattress, she gripped the blanket. Before she could ask him for more, he filled her to the hilt in one stroke. They both called out and froze.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m going to fuck you hard. You ready for that?”

She moaned and then gasped as he smacked her ass. “You get me?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled out then slammed back into her. She screamed his name, her pussy clenching him. Austin pumped in and out of her, his grip punishing on her hips. Before she could come, he left her for a moment then flipped her on her back. She bounced once, and then as she hit the bed again, he was in her.

“Austin!”

He pistoned into her, his eyes on her face. “Say my name again. Say it.”

“Austin. Austin. Austin,” she chanted his name then gasped into his mouth as he crushed it to hers.

He rotated his hips once more, and she came, her body shaking under his. He threw his head back and shouted as he filled the condom. When he could, he rested his head on hers, their breathing heavy.

“Best. Ever,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Austin,” she agreed.

He smiled against her cheek then held her close. “My good girl.”

Yes, she was. She was his.

And nothing could take that from her.

Nothing.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“AGAIN,” Austin shouted. “Say my name again.”

“Austin,” she panted, her body bowing as she came one more time on his cock.

His hands came to her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “You’re mine, Sierra. Your pussy is like a fucking vise on my dick, and I’m going to come. You ready for that?”

“Please, please come inside me.”

He pushed up once more, and she gasped as he filled her. This time without a condom. Their first time without a condom.

They’d stayed up for hours after their time in the basement, making love and talking. They’d both discussed protection, and since she was on birth control and they were both clean, they were ready for him to go bare with her. Now Austin had woken her by making her sit on his cock.

She fell on top of him, and his arms went around her. One hand tangled in her hair, the other grasped her hip.

“I love being in you without a condom, Legs. Best. Feeling. Ever.”

She smiled against him. “I love it too.”

It was the first time they’d used that word in any way when it came to one another, and she wasn’t about to take it for granted.

“Let me stay here for a bit then I’ll pull out and clean you up.”

“I can just jump in the shower.”

He smacked her ass, the sting forcing a gasp out of you. “Let me take care of my woman.”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Good girl.”

Their exchange had almost become a joke between them, the way he always praised her for serving him. The joke had turned into something warmer inside her, and she knew she’d have to focus on that soon. Not right then. For now, she wanted to be lazy and enjoy their day off.

In fact, she had a plan for that, but she needed to build up the courage to ask Austin about it. It wasn’t bad, just something monumental in her life. As if anything monumental could be “just”.

Finally, Austin got up, pulling out of her. She clamped her legs closed, trying to keep him within her. It made no sense, but some primal part of her wanted him inside her. So weird.

He came back into the room with a warm washcloth and cleaned her up, his gaze never leaving hers. “Feel good?”

She smiled. “Yes. You take good care of me. Let me make you breakfast after I help you shower.”

He leaned down and kissed the side of her mouth. “You take good care of me too, Legs.”

She warmed at his words then took his hand as he led her to the bathroom. They took a very thorough shower, then she let him go make his calls for work as she went to the kitchen to make breakfast. She wasn’t the best cook in the world, but she could take care of her man’s needs.

All of his needs.

She blushed as she thought about what she and Austin had done the night before. She hadn’t let go like that, trusted another person, since Jason ten years ago. Even then, though, she wasn’t sure she’d fully let go.

If she was honest with herself, she would say that she’d never fully given in to Jason. There had always been that residual resentment between the two of them. He’d never held a job but had one promised to him since birth. She had to scrape every penny together just to go to school so she could have a future that didn’t include waiting tables for the rest of her life.

No matter how much distance Jason had tried to put between them and his parents, they had caused rifts throughout the relationship. He never did cut ties because it simply never occurred to him to do so. She didn’t trust him enough to make it an ultimatum. Now that Sierra truly thought about it, she knew it would have strained their relationship to the point they might not have made it. The idea that they would have brought a child into the middle of that worried her, but she would have shouldered that pain to have her baby back. She must have known something was off between her and Jason all along because she’d never trusted or given in to him as she had with Austin in just one night.

That might scare her, but she would just take it in stride.

She’d had it.

She was finished with running.

She’d been a child with Jason, but she wasn’t with Austin.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she leaned against her man. “Good morning,” she murmured as he kissed up her neck, his beard scraping her delicately.

“Good morning,” he growled into her ear. “Breakfast smells amazing. Omelets?”

She nodded then pulled away so she wouldn’t burn either of them when she finished plating everything. She couldn’t quite think straight when Austin’s arms were around her.

“You have the single coffee maker, so I didn’t start your cup. I did put the little cup in there so all you have to do is press a button.”

He smiled at her and did just that. “Always thinking. So, what’s the plan for today? I know you have to do the books and I have some things I need to do paperwork-wise, but I honestly don’t want to spend the whole day cramped indoors.”

She brought their plates to the breakfast bar then sat down as Austin pulled out her seat. “I was thinking about that. What do you say we work for a couple hours since it’s only six? We woke up early so that will give us until eight or eight thirty to work until we go out.”

Austin took a bite of his omelet and groaned. “This is good, Legs. I’m going to have to keep you around just for these.”

“I live to serve,” she said dryly, then almost choked on her coffee at the heated look he gave her.

“Good to know,” he whispered.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, at nine or so, I thought, if you were ready, we could go on a ride to Estes Park.”

She looked down at her plate instead of at him so she couldn’t gauge his reaction. The memory of how she’d freaked out at the shop when he’d asked her the first time was not lost on her.

Austin’s big hand went to the back of her neck, and she sucked in a breath before facing him.

“You sure you’re up for that, Legs?”

She nodded. “I think so. I mean we’ll know before we even leave the driveway, right?”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

She smiled at that. No, she didn’t. Not with Austin. He took her as she was, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything. “I know. I have something to prove to myself. Plus, I miss riding, Austin. I used to do it weekly, and now I haven’t been on a bike in a decade. I’m ready.”

He searched her face, for what she didn’t know, but he must have found it. “Okay then. I don’t have that much paperwork to do, so I can get the bike ready for us when you’re finishing up. A ride to Estes Park isn’t that far, but it’s not around the block either.”

“I know. I want to go in big.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “We will, baby. I have an extra helmet that my sisters use when they ride with me, so you’ll be good there. We’ll have to stop off at Maya’s and get you a leather jacket because it might get cold up there on the mountain in some spots.”

Sierra thought of Austin’s sister and the fact that the other woman didn’t seem to like her. “Why Maya?”

Austin winked. “Because she lives the closest, and since I know she’s not home because she’s working at the shop today, we can just go in and take it.”

Sierra held up her hands. “Oh no. I am not going to steal from your sister. A sister who doesn’t like me.”

His eyes widened. “Why would you think that?”

“Uh, because she’s always a little snarky to me.”

“She’s Maya. She lives on snark. It’s like oxygen to her. She likes you. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have let you in the back with me.” He grinned at her. “Not that I think that would have stopped you. You’ve got nerves of steel.”

“If that’s what you think, sure. But why are we stealing her jacket?”

Austin shrugged then started on the dishes. “Because she won’t care. I’ll text her just in case, but she’ll be fine. She’s not wearing it today because Jake is out of town, so she’s not riding.”

“I thought Maya would want her own bike.” She seemed the type of woman who wanted that kind of power between her legs. In fact, in the past, the idea of owning her own bike had crossed Sierra’s mind a time or two. She wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that right then.

“She’d rather daydream without having to deal with steering and all that. I see that look on your face. You want a bike of your own?”

She lowered her eyes then sighed. “I used to. I didn’t know if Jason would have liked it though.”

Austin put a wet hand under her chin. “If you feel like you can handle a bike, then get one. Let’s get through actually seeing if you can ride on the back of mine first. I think you owning your own bike would be fucking sexy, honestly. I’m not that much of a caveman.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Me Austin. Me want you.”

Sierra threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my God. Never do that again. Please. I beg of you.”

He rolled his eyes then smacked her on the ass. “Go get some work done while I finish the dishes. I’ll text Maya and see if I can get her jacket. If not, I have two more sisters and a mom who would have one to fit you. The only one of us without a jacket is Alexander’s wife, but seeing how she’s never even been on the back of a bike, there isn’t a problem there.”

Sierra caught his tone and raised a brow as she pulled out her work. “You don’t like her?”

He shook his head. “Can’t stand her. She’s a bitch, and since I try not to call women that name, that should tell you how much she bothers me. She treats Alex like shit and thinks our family is a bunch of inbred losers. Between her and Meghan’s husband, Richard, we Montgomerys haven’t had much luck with spouses.”

He left it at that, and she was glad. If he had made a joke about changing that, she might have freaked out. They hadn’t been dating long enough for marriage, but the idea that she could spend forever with Austin didn’t scare her as much now.

THEY WORKED side by side for an hour, and surprisingly, Austin’s presence didn’t hurt her concentration. She’d taken her bag with her when they went to his place, so she had her things with her to work on. Since they were both focused, she didn’t have time to worry about being nervous or anything like that. It was just…comfortable.

And nice.

Austin left her alone for a bit to get things ready for their ride. She finished up one set of numbers and felt good enough to call it a day. She packed everything up and then looked down at her clothes. Thankfully, she had on jeans and a tank and had brought boots, so she’d be properly clothed on the bike. Once she had a helmet and jacket, she was all set.

Yet her stomach threatened to revolt.

She could do this.

She wasn’t going to crash.

There wasn’t going to be fire and pain and screams.

She’d ride with Austin and be safe.

Austin would be safe.

He walked in, his boots squeaking on the kitchen tile. “We can back out, Sierra. We don’t have to do this.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m ready. Just having a little pep talk. Do we need to bring anything?”

He gave her a look then held out his hand. She went to him without question, sinking into him. “I have food and water and extra supplies in the saddle bags. It’s not that far of a ride up there, and it’s a tourist area so we can grab lunch and just hang out. We had a tough winter so the river and streams are going to be swollen. It should be a nice view. I have my camera in the bag, too, in case you want to take photos.”

The man thought of everything, and he was doing his best to make the destination worth it, rather than focusing on the ride to get there.

“Let’s go.”

“My bike’s out front. All we need to do is get on and leave.”

She let out a breath. “Okay.”

He cupped her face. “I’ll be there the whole time, and I won’t take my eyes off the road. You get me?”

She smiled softly. “I get you.”

“Okay then. Let’s ride.”

She followed him out of the garage, and he hit the panel on the side to close it. He put on her helmet then his. When they both had their sunglasses on, he leaned down and kissed her quickly.

“We’ll head to Maya’s then up to Estes Park.” He got on first and started the bike so she would literally just have to get on. The sound of the pipes roaring didn’t send her into convulsions, so she took that as a good sign. And his bike was freaking sexy. All black and chrome with the Montgomery Ink logo etched on the side. So very Austin.

She took a deep breath then walked over, careful not to touch the hot pipes. She put one hand on Austin’s shoulder then took another breath.

She could do this.

This was Austin.

He would protect her.

And she would protect herself.

She put one foot on the footrest then slung her leg over quickly so she didn’t knock the bike over. She needn’t have worried though considering Austin had his feet firmly planted on the ground.

As soon as she sat down behind him, she felt the vibrations of the bike. Where she thought she might have been scared, instead she was invigorated.

God, she’d missed this.

Missed the feel of the bike and its power between her legs. She’d missed wrapping her body around a man as they rode. Missed the air on her face.

Though the last thing she remembered doing on a bike was wrapping her arms around a man, she did just that now and wrapped her arms around Austin’s waist.

The world didn’t end.

She didn’t pass out.

Thank God.

Austin patted her hand but didn’t look back.

She was falling in love with him and didn’t want to stop.

He took off slowly up the driveway and into the neighborhood. Her grip tightened as they moved. It had been a long time since she’d ridden; it was like riding a bike.

She grinned at her little joke then let her body remember the motions. She leaned into the turns, didn’t throw her weight around, and let Austin have the control, just like she needed.

The disappointment when they had to stop at Maya’s to pick up the jacket surprised her, but she didn’t have to wait long. Austin ran in to get it, and then they were on their way up to Estes Park.

The road underneath them and the mountains to their west soothed Sierra in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She leaned against Austin for some of their ride, his body warm, large, and comforting. He never turned toward her, never turned to look at the mountains or land around them. Usually people could take a quick look at their surroundings and immerse themselves, but Austin didn’t.

He kept his eyes solely on the road for them.

For her.

She smiled, holding back tears, this time the truly touched and happy kind. When she leaned back—her hands were still on Austin because, frankly, she couldn’t stop touching him—she let her head fall back, and the sunlight and shadows danced across her face.

She’d missed this so freaking much, yet she hadn’t realized how much until they started out. Yes, there was still the little ball of nerves in her stomach, and she didn’t think it would be going away any time soon. When they first started out and were on the highway to get through Boulder, she’d tensed. Not only because Boulder was where her past wouldn’t go away, but semis would pass them and she’d have minor flashbacks. Thankfully, Austin didn’t pull his hand from the handlebars to soothe, nor did he look behind him, even when they stopped at a stoplight in the middle of the city. He did lean back, pressing his body against hers, showing her he was there.

He really knew how to care for her, and the fact that she felt like she was fumbling to take care of him in the same fashion made her want to try harder. He was her Dom. There was really no other way to put that. She trusted him in and out of bed, and he took care of her. She needed to be fully into being his sub. It wasn’t that she wanted to do exactly what he said outside of the bedroom and kneel at his feet when they were causally sitting in the living room—that wasn’t their kind of kink—but she wanted to ensure she was his the best way she knew how.

She’d just have to work on that.

When they moved into the mountains, Sierra was grateful they’d stolen—or borrowed she supposed—Maya’s jacket. The sun still beat down on them, but the wind was cooler, the air thinner. There was still some snow on the highest peaks. When they pulled into Estes Park, Sierra sighed.

The place really was a dream.

There was a large body of water and streams everywhere. The town played to tourists and history alike, so all of the buildings had a quaint feel to them that made her want to come back again and again. Austin quickly parked in one of the lots, and she got off the back of the bike, her legs a bit achy.

Austin took off her helmet then leaned down to kiss her softly. “You did good, Legs.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He shook his head as he put their helmets away and got out two bottles of water. “I don’t know about that. You’re strong on your own, but I like being here if you need me.”

Smiling, she put her hand on his chest and leaned in. He had to lower his head but brushed his lips over hers. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome. Now how about a walk and then lunch?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He took her hand then led her toward the taffy place first. He knew exactly what she wanted.

Of course he did. He was Austin.

Now she just needed to figure out what to do with that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

IF ONE MORE CRAZY-assed motherfucker walked into his shop, Austin was going to throw the damn chair at them. It had been one stupid idiot after another wanting shit ink that morning. These assholes were determined to ruin his good mood from the ride with Sierra the day before.

Fucking pricks.

The first person who walked in that day hadn’t had an appointment, and usually that was fine. Each of them tried to put an hour or two in their day for walk-ins and cover-up emergencies. If those hours weren’t filled, they could sketch or work on the other million things they had to do. What they needed was a damn receptionist, but they couldn’t seem to keep one for longer than a month.

No clue why, but the lack of one was killing his schedule.

That first person had wanted a dragon on his back. Sure, Austin could have done it, but the kid had wanted to start right then. A full dragon piece would take at least three or four sessions of three hours each. Probably more considering the kid kept shifting from foot to foot as if he couldn’t sit still. Moving during a tattoo meant Austin had to stop and start numerous times or bash the kid’s head in.

Not that he’d ever do that, but he’d thought about it.

So the kid had yelled and bitched about time and demanding it right then for a hundred bucks. Yeah, totally not happening. The next one that came in was some really skinny chick who wanted the undersides of her obviously man-made breasts inked up with Playboy bunnies.

Austin wasn’t even going to touch that one.

Well, to be sure he wouldn’t have to deal with her, he showed her what he’d be working with. The woman freaked out when she saw the needles and left. Considering all the needles that must have touched her skin when she’d had the surgeries to make her body the way it was, her phobia made no sense.

Besides, what did she think they used, Paint By Numbers?

It had continued on like that with idiot after idiot until Austin said enough and locked himself in the back. He would just sketch until lunch and then deal with his scheduled clients. Sierra couldn’t make it for lunch since she had to cover Jasinda, who found out it wasn’t the flu but a baby making her ill.

Seriously, Austin wanted to just go back home, throw Sierra on the back of his bike, and forget his troubles.

That wasn’t going to happen though.

His dad had treatment that day, and he wasn’t allowed at the house until the next morning. His parents didn’t want a crowd, and since there were so many Montgomerys, they would be nothing but crowd.

Jesus.

He didn’t think he could take another bomb, not after Sierra telling him her story and his dad dealing with the big C. His siblings were all dealing with their own shit, and their stress was bleeding into him.

Austin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to stop freaking out about things out of his control. He couldn’t fix everything, though he wanted to damn well try. He sucked in a breath then let it out slowly.

He would do what he came in here to do.

Work on Sierra’s ink.

He had an idea for the daisies on her scars, and since he knew her body under his hands now, he had a better place to start. They would put her ink on hold with her job and their new relationship, but he wanted to start on it soon. It might take a couple sessions, considering he didn’t know how her skin would react to the ink. They would have to play it by ear and work on it slowly.

He just hoped he didn’t hurt her too badly. She’d been through enough as it was.

Just as he bent over to start focusing, Maya slammed the door open. “What the fuck are you doing back here? We have people coming in, and I need you to get off your ass and actually work.”

“Fuck off, Maya.”

“No. I’m not going to fuck off. You’re in here pouting over some shit, and I can’t do everything out there alone.”

“Imagine that, you saying you can’t do something. And you’re not alone. You have Sloane out there.”

Maya stomped to his side, but he didn’t get up. “What is with you?”

“What’s with me? I had to deal with fucking idiots all morning, I can’t see Sierra until tomorrow most likely, and Dad is in the fucking hospital right now getting treatment that might kill him before the cancer does. So sorry if I’m not in the mood for fucking company.”

Maya hiccupped a sob, and Austin stood quickly. His sister never cried.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m an ass. Come here.” He opened his arms, and she threw herself into him.

“Dad can’t die, Austin. He’s not allowed to. He’s the strong one. Well, other than Mom, but they’re a pair. You know?”

He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I know, Maya. I know. He’ll be okay. I’m just freaking out and taking it out on you.”

“What do you think I was doing?”

He snorted then squeezed her hard before letting go. “We make pretty good punching bags for each other.”

She rolled her eyes then wiped away any remnants that she’d been crying. “That’s why we work so well together. We can yell and beat on each other without hurting feelings. Sorry I cried. I know you hate crying females.”

“Yeah, but if you need to cry, do it. I’m good at holding them when they need to let it all out.”

Maya tilted her head. “Sierra?”

“I can’t talk about it, Maya. If you want to know more about her, maybe you should actually get to know her. You know, instead of giving her the side eye whenever she walks in.”

“I didn’t think she was good enough for you.”

“Seriously? What the fuck, Maya? If anything, I’m not good enough for her. You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I still thought it, did I? She makes you happy, Austin. Anyone with eyes can see that. If she hurts you, I’ll kick her ass, but now? Now she’s cool.”

“She’d be cooler if you actually spent a few minutes with her not scowling.”

She rolled her eyes again then punched him in the shoulder. “I’ll try. If she’s going to be around, I guess I’ll have to get to know her.”

He met Maya’s gaze and nodded. “I think she’s going to be around for a long while, Maya.”

His sister’s eyes widened. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

“So…uh…she doesn’t think your kink is weird or anything? Not like that Maggie chick?”

Austin closed his eyes and groaned. How his little sister knew this, he didn’t know. Nor did he want to talk about it with her. “We’re good, Maya. And that’s the last we’re talking about that.”

“What? We all have kinks.” She winked.

He put his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening. La la la.”

“You’re a riot. I’ll leave you in here to work then get back in. We’ll just be closed to walk-ins for a bit since the crazies seem to be out in full force.”

“Thanks, Maya.”

“Welcome, big brother.”

She left him to sketch, and he felt better just for having said all he had out loud. His sister got him better than most people, and he knew he should have just told her what was on his mind to begin with.

He wanted the daisies to flow down Sierra’s side, delicate like her skin. It was going to hurt like a bitch, but he’d make it up to her. Maybe he’d let her help him sketch his next tattoo. That way she was a part of him always.

Always?

He liked the sound of that. Scary as hell, but good. He could see her at his side as they grew older, raising children—whether through adoption or through the usual method. Even a month ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible he’d find someone he could potentially spend the rest of his life with. Sure, he’d had an itch to settle down because he knew forty was quickly approaching, but it had been only a dream, not something as concrete as thinking of Sierra as a Montgomery.

Maybe she’d even get the Montgomery Iris tattoo like the rest of his family. Richard and Jessica had never gotten the ink. Richard because he didn’t think of himself as a Montgomery—and he was an asshole. Jessica because she hadn’t wanted to mar her figure—and she was a first class bitch.

Come to think of it, bringing Sierra into the mix was only a good thing. He’d be increasing their clan in a good way, rather than bringing in the idiocy Alex and Meghan did.

Well, that was just cruel of him to think. His siblings had each found someone they loved; just because their partners didn’t fit in with his family didn’t make them bad people. In Austin’s opinion, it was the way they treated their significant others that made them sketchy and not good enough for his family.

Sierra treated him right and trusted him with her past and her body. He had an inkling she trusted him with her heart and soul as well, though neither of them had said the words. Those would come though; he was sure. They were on the good path, and he just prayed nothing pushed them off.

“Yo, Austin, you have a visitor.”

Austin blinked at Sloane’s words and shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Damn it, he had to stop woolgathering. He’d never get this sketch done for Sierra at this rate.

Wait. Visitor? If it was Sierra, she’d just walk back, so who could it be?

A knot formed in his belly. Fuck, he hoped it wasn’t…

“Hello, Austin,” Shannon purred.

“I’m out of here,” Sloane said as he fled.

Fucker.

“What do you want, Shannon?”

She stood in the doorway, her dress too tight, her eyes too bright. He didn’t want to deal with her and was thankful they weren’t still together.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Austin almost cleaned out his ear with his finger at her words. He couldn’t have heard right. Sorry? Really?

“Seriously? You’re sorry?”

She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have gone to your girl like that. She didn’t do anything wrong but get the toy I wanted, and I acted like a brat.”

“Did you just call me a toy?”

She blushed. “I’m just using the words Tony used.”

“Tony?” She made no sense, and he wanted her out of his office, but if she got whatever she needed to off her chest, then hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with her again. He’d take the little pain to be free.

“My new man.”

Well, that was fast. And exactly what Sierra had said to him about Shannon needing a new man to get off Austin’s back. He’d just have to kiss his woman when he got to see her again. Hard.

“Good for you,” he mumbled.

She smiled. “Thanks. Tony is just so…well, you don’t care, and I won’t take up more of your time. So I’m sorry for coming in here, calling you, and bugging your girl. I just don’t like being alone, and I took it out on you. So, sorry for being a bitch.”

Austin let out a breath. “You weren’t a bitch, Shannon. You were just…clingy.”

She snorted and shook her head. “I’m a bitch, and I know it. I’m going to try and not be.”

Austin wasn’t too sure she could stop so quickly considering it had been all of two days since she’d acted like that. She couldn’t have been with Tony for long, but if he was going to change her for the better, then good for him.

Good luck with that, Tony.

“Thanks for apologizing,” he said. There really wasn’t more he could say, and he’d rather she left. Call him an ass, but he was over it all.

“Thanks for listening. I would go apologize to your girl, but I don’t think either of you would appreciate that.”

He nodded. “I’ll let her know.”

Tired of sitting at his desk and getting nothing done, he followed her out of the office; he wanted to make sure she was actually gone. Call him a cynic, but he didn’t trust many people these days. Apparently Maya felt the same way, considering she kept her eyes on Shannon until she was out the door. As soon as the door closed behind her, everyone in the room let out a collective breath—including the clients in the chairs.

“She gone for good then?” Maya asked, her focus on the man’s arm in front of her now.

“Yeah. So she says, but it might actually work this time. She apologized.”

“We know,” Callie said with a wink. She sat near Sloane, watching him work on shading for the day. “We had the music down so we could hear what she had to say.”

Austin opened his mouth to yell then closed it, snorting and shaking his head instead. If he’d been in their shoes, he would’ve done the same thing. The crew of Montgomery Ink was a nosey one.

“Brat,” he muttered as Callie fluttered her eyelashes.

“I try.”

He went back to his station and started getting ready for the next client. By the time he was done, they were in an odd lull where they had no clients waiting or in chairs. The next big rush of appointments would be soon, but for now, it was just him, Callie, Sloane, and Maya.

The door opened again, and Austin counted to three before turning. If it was Shannon or another idiot, he was going to scream.

Instead, a man in a nice suit and a briefcase stood in the doorway. God, he hoped they weren’t getting sued for ink. It hadn’t happened to him but it had to others in his profession. Some people were never happy no matter how hard others tried.

“Mr. Montgomery?” the man asked.

Austin frowned. Well, shit. “I’m Austin Montgomery. There’s a few Montgomerys around so you’ll have to be specific.”

The lawyer nodded. “Yes, you’re the one I’m looking for. In fact, it’s been pretty difficult to find you, Mr. Montgomery.”

Something icy went up his spine. “What do you mean?”

Maya came to his side, her arms folded in front of her. Sloane stood up with Callie by his side. They were united against whatever came, but Austin had a feeling they wouldn’t be enough.

“I’ve sent you a letter with what I need to talk to about.”

Austin racked his brain then cursed. There had been that letter from lawyers that he’d put aside because he hadn’t recognized it. Things had been so crazy with dad and Sierra that he’d forgotten about it. Fuck. What had he missed?

“Sorry about that, we’ve been a bit crazy here. What can I do for you?”

“We also couldn’t reach you by phone because your number seems to have changed in the past ten years.”

Ten years? What the hell was this about?

“And now that circumstances have changed, I needed to see you face to face, rather than discuss things through mail or over the phone.”

“Out with it already,” Maya muttered.

“And you would be… miss?” the man asked, his eyebrow raised.

Yeah, they were all tattooed freaks in his eyes, but what the fuck ever. “This is my sister Maya and my co-workers Sloane and Callie. They might as well be family, so say what you need to say. You don’t need to wait for them to leave.”

“If you’re sure. This is quite personal.”

Austin’s stomach clenched, but he didn’t let his nervousness show. At least he hoped not. “They’re family, so they’ll find out anyway. What’s going on? Why are you here for me?”

The lawyer nodded then walked forward, putting his briefcase on the counter. “You might want to sit down, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Call me Austin. Mr. Montgomery is my father, and I’m fine standing.”

“Okay then, Mr. Mont—I mean Austin.” He cleared his throat, and Austin was ready to throttle the man. “Do you remember a Miss Maggie Forrester?”

Maggie. Damn, her name had come up a lot in the past few weeks.

“Yes, I remember her. We dated over ten years ago. I haven’t heard or spoken to her since. What’s up with Maggie?”

Maya’s hand went to the small of his back, and he realized his body was shaking. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what it was.

“I’m sorry to say Maggie Forrester passed away three months ago.”

Austin blinked, an odd shock going through his system. He hadn’t thought about her often since she’d broken up with him after calling him a freak, but it still hurt to hear she’d passed away.

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“Car accident. She died on impact.”

“Again, I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know what that has to do with me. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Well, she left something behind, Austin.”

Maggie had left him something? Why they hell would she have done that? It made no sense. His confusion must have played on his face because the lawyer gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Austin, she left behind a son.”

He blinked then took a step back, then another. Sloane came up from behind him and helped him sit on one of the stools.

“A son?” he croaked. No, it couldn’t be. Maggie would have told him if he had a son. Wouldn’t she?

Images of her face when she’d screamed at him and called him an abuser filled his mind and he cursed. Maybe not. She might have hidden it from him because she’d been afraid.

Holy fuck.

“I can tell from your face that you understand. Leif is ten years old, and according to his birth certificate, he’s your son. Are you telling me you never knew?”

“Of course he didn’t know, you asshole,” Maya bit out. “You think he would have just stayed away if he thought for a second he had a kid out there.”

“I’ve seen a lot of terrible things in my line of work, Ms. Montgomery.”

“Well, your line of work sucks,” Callie said, tears in her voice.

“Leif?” Austin asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, his given name is Leif Forrester Montgomery.”

Montgomery. “She gave him my name? Why?”

“I can’t begin to go into the decisions people make, Austin. Right now, we don’t have DNA to certify her claims, but as you’re listed on the birth certificate, you do have rights.”

“Rights? Wait. Where is he? Where’s Leif? Is he with her folks?”

The lawyer shook his head. “I’m afraid they passed away when Leif was born.”

“So she’s been on her own this whole time. Raising a kid, my kid, this whole time. What the hell? Why didn’t she tell me?”

Tears filled his eyes, and he tried to come to terms with what the lawyer was saying, but he couldn’t comprehend it.

“Where’s Leif?” he asked again.

“We have him in a group home for now. Unless you claim him—and that’s not as easy as it sounds—he will have to find a foster family and stay in the system. As I said, it’s really your choice. Since your name is on the birth certificate, we can make the process easier. However, I don’t want you to make a decision now. Take your time, but remember, the life of a child is at stake.”

Austin couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“Give us your number and how to contact you,” Sloane said, taking charge. Everyone else seemed to be in shock. “We’ll figure it out and let you know. Do you need anything right now for the DNA test?”

“We can do a swab right now and get started.”

“Austin?” Sloane asked, standing right in front of him.

He blinked. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do that.” The kid was his. He knew it deep down in his soul though he’d never met him.

The lawyer swabbed his mouth, and he sat quietly through it. The lawyer said he’d be in touch and left, leaving a broken and confused trail in his wake. Austin didn’t like the idea of Leif staying in a group home while he had plenty of room at his place, but things hadn’t connected in his brain yet. He needed to tell his folks, needed to tell Sierra.

Fuck. Sierra.

Dear God.

What was he going to tell her?

“What are you going to do, Austin?” Maya asked. “Want me to get Sierra?”

He shook his head. “No, let her work. I need to think.”

“You sure that’s the best thing? This affects her too.”

“I know that, but I need to breathe. I can’t just let my kid, if he really is mine, be alone there when I can take him in, but what do I know about kids? Fuck.”

Maya shook her head then walked to the door, flipping the sign to closed. “Callie, call our appointments and reschedule. We’re going to go take Austin home and figure it out. Then when you’re ready, we’ll call the family. Mom and Dad will be at home, but they’ll be strong even with the treatments.”

“Fuck, the treatments.”

“I know, big brother, but we can do this. One step at a time, Dad.”

Dad.

He ran his hands over his head. Dad? What the hell was he going to do? There was only one thing he could do.

“I need to call Sierra.”

Maya frowned. “You can just go over there.”

“No, I can’t see her right now. I can’t…I need to talk to her, but I need time.”

He knew he was messing this up, but he was floundering. He dialed her number and sighed when it went straight to voicemail. Maybe it was for the best. She had enough to deal with without his drama.

He had a kid.

Everything had been looking up, and now it had all crashed down. Life certainly knew how to throw punches, only Austin didn’t know if he’d be able to get back up after this one. Not this time.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AUSTIN HADN’T CALLED AGAIN. He’d left a weird message saying that he would see her later then hadn’t called back all night. Sierra didn’t want to think it was a bad sign, but she was certainly worried. It had now been over twelve hours since that phone call, and Sierra had a bad feeling about it.

Something had happened, she just knew it, but Austin hadn’t answered his phone when she called, so now she didn’t know what to think.

The day before, she’d spent almost all of her time either on her feet dealing with a mad rush that might have made her pocketbook happy but not the arches of her feet, or she’d been in the back, bent over her books.

Being a business owner was not for the weak.

Well, being a successful one anyway. And she wanted to be successful damn it.

By the time evening had come around, even though she’d need to work for another few hours, she’d gone home with the beginnings of a headache. She and Austin had tentative plans of him coming over, but they hadn’t finalized them because of her workload.

Then her migraine had hit, and she’d lain in bed moaning before finally falling asleep.

That was when she’d missed Austin’s call and odd message.

Now it was morning. While Jasinda and Becky handled the store, she was going to get some coffee from Hailey and bring it over to her man. Not only did she want to see him, she wanted to make sure he was okay.

Not speaking to him for almost a full day made her a little uneasy, and that, in turn, made her freak out a little. They’d gotten serious extremely quickly, but she couldn’t say she regretted it. Austin made her feel whole again. Not that she needed him to feel human. It was more that she’d been missing something in her life. He looked at her scars and saw strength and beauty, and she believed him. He got angry for her past and then helped her breathe through the steps she needed to take in order to overcome it.

He was there for her, and now she wanted to be there for him. She just prayed that whatever was going on with Austin wasn’t something serious. God, what if it was about his father? She knew the older Montgomery had his first full treatment the day before, and she prayed that there hadn’t been any complications.

Sierra let out a breath. That had to be it on some level. Maybe Austin was just freaking out over his father being sick. Damn it, and she hadn’t been there. She’d been in bed with a migraine and not by his side like she should have been.

Well, that wouldn’t be happening again. No, next time she’d help him through it, even if she had to rest her head on a cool compress the entire time.

He’d helped her through her pain, and she’d be damned if she let him go through this on his own.

Shoulders rolled back, she said goodbye to her girls then walked across the street to Hailey’s. She glanced over at Montgomery Ink, saw a young boy sitting on the front steps in the corner, and thought it must have been one of their clients’ kids. It was still early, but the cool air from the morning dew still stung a bit. She hoped the kid kept warm because she wouldn’t want to stay outside long. It didn’t matter if it was in the dead of summer in Colorado, once you were in the shade and before the sun really hit, the mountain drafts went to work on the air.

She’d just ask Austin who the boy was as soon as she made her way over. Maybe she’d go the long way around, rather than through the connecting doors between Taboo and Montgomery Ink like she’d grown accustomed to. That way she could see if the kid needed anything. Honestly, she didn’t know why she cared so much about this kid who probably had two parents inside waiting for him or watching out for him, but she couldn’t help it.

As soon as she stepped into Taboo, she smiled at Hailey, who was doing some sort of wiggle behind the counter, dancing to the beat of the music as she filled coffee orders.

There wasn’t too much of a line thankfully, so Sierra didn’t have to wait long. Normally she might have gone to the coffee shop next to Eden in the mornings because of the rush, but she’d wanted to see her friend, and the line was worth it.

“Hey, girlie, good morning,” Hailey said as she continued to wiggle.

Sierra couldn’t help but snort. “You’re in a chipper mood.”

Hailey shook her head then made the two lattes for Sierra and Austin. “Not really. I just happened to be highly caffeinated. I tried a new bean for our espresso, and it has a punch.”

Sierra’s eyes lit up. “Oh really? Are you keeping it then?”

Hailey nodded. “Yep. It’ll be good for the early morning drag-ins. Plus, it doesn’t taste like burnt tar like some of the coffee houses.”

Sierra had the grace to blush. “You know when I go to the other place, I only think of you. It’s just faster.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say, champ. Two lattes to go. Say hi to Austin for me.”

“How did you know I was seeing Austin?” Sierra asked, her best ice-princess face on. “I just ordered two drinks. One could have been for Jasinda or Becky.”

Hailey snorted. “It could have been, but you came here during your morning to work on inventory, books, and other admin things, so it must have been important. There’s only one person right now that comes to mind. So tell him I said hi.” Hailey stopped dancing and gave Sierra a look she couldn’t quite understand.

“What’s wrong?” Damn it. Something was up, and she couldn’t shake that feeling.

“I don’t know, hon. Something’s up over there. They closed up shop yesterday before closing hours, and Sloane looked even more solemn than usual.” Hailey’s cheeks pinked at the mention of Sloane, but Sierra couldn’t think about that right then.

“They closed up shop?” she asked, her heart racing. “They never do that, do they?”

Hailey shook her head and started making the customer sitting at the counter a cup of coffee. “No, they don’t. Maybe if they had a family emergency, but I don’t know.” Hailey blinked back tears and shook her head. “Go over there and make sure everything is okay with Harry, will you? I’m worried. I know I was dancing earlier, but I’m trying to keep my mind off it, you know? Since I’m stuck here.”

Sierra nodded, swallowing hard. She cleared her throat then picked up her lattes. “I’ll find out. I’m sure they’re all fine.”

Hailey gave her a sad smile. “Yeah. I’m sure we’re just freaking out over nothing. Now go see those Montgomerys.”

Sierra gave one last goodbye then walked toward the connecting door before stopping and turning back to the front door. Even if her mind whirled at whatever could be wrong with Austin, she hadn’t forgotten about that boy completely. She wanted to make sure he was okay as well. She would have ordered him a hot chocolate or something, but since he wasn’t her kid, she didn’t want to encroach. Plus the kid could be allergic to sugar or something. That was a thing. Right?

Damn it. How could getting two cups of coffee make her mind go as crazy as it had? Now she had a boy she didn’t know to worry about—who she probably didn’t need to worry about anyway—and a man she cared for in need. Well, at least that’s what she thought. For all she knew, she was blowing everything out of proportion and he’d just laugh and call her Crazy Legs when she asked him.

Yes, that was what was going to happen.

But they’d closed the store…

Nope. Not going to dwell on that. Not yet.

The boy still sat on the front step when she got there. His brown hair looked tousled, like he hadn’t brushed it in awhile, and he had on a thin jacket and holey jeans. For all she knew, that was the style of boys his age, but the utter sadness on his face wasn’t.

He had his arms wrapped around his legs, and his chin rested on his knees. Now that she got a good look at him, she saw that he wasn’t exactly sitting on the front step. He was more off to the side and under the full windows so whoever was in Montgomery Ink couldn’t see him.

While she hoped that his family was inside, she had a feeling this boy had slept out here or near here the night before. She couldn’t see evidence of a nest nearby or any other evidence, but it was a feeling she couldn’t shake off.

What was she supposed to do?

Well, calmly talking to him would be the first step. Though she was a stranger, and he probably shouldn’t talk to her in the first place, she couldn’t just walk past him.

She put on a smile and tried to not look like a murderer or whatever a little boy would think some woman on the street might look like.

“Good morning,” she said brightly.

The kid, who had been staring off into space, jolted then turned to her, his eyes wide. “Good…good morning,” he mumbled then shut his mouth quickly, as if scared to say anything else.

Oh, this poor boy. Something was surely up with him. Or she just scared the crap out of him. Either way, she had to fix it.

Sierra bit her lip then said to hell with it. Careful not to spill her lattes, she took a deep breath then sat on the stoop next to him. The boy looked startled for a moment then shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t care.

“So, what are you doing outside Montgomery Ink this morning?” Too pushy? God, she didn’t know how to deal with kids. The fact that this child looked to be the same age as the one she’d lost would have been…well she wasn’t going to think about that. She couldn’t think about that.

The boy sighed. “I came to see my dad.”

Came? As if he hadn’t come with his parents? Was he a runaway? Oh damn. This was so far out of her scope. She needed Austin and maybe the police.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He looked over his shoulder then the other way as if he were hiding. And damn it, he was hiding. “I don’t know if he’ll like me being here though, you know?”

No, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to leave this kid out on the stoop to find out. “Is…is he in the shop?” That had to be the only answer considering where the boy hid. An odd prickling sensation went up her spine as the boy thought over his answer.

No. Surely not. There had to be a customer in there. Or maybe even Sloane. Right?

“He’s in there. I think. That’s what the paper said.”

She’d ask about the paper later. Right then, he was at least talking. She didn’t want to spook him.

“Do you want to go in?” she asked, her throat closing.

He met her gaze and she swallowed hard. Blue eyes. She knew those eyes but she had to be wrong. A lot of people had blue eyes and dark hair. Tons of them in fact. It was just a coincidence.

“I guess I want to,” the boy mumbled. “It’s why I’m here.”

Sierra nodded, her mind going blank. “What…what’s your name?”

The boy licked his lips then ran a hand through his hair on a shrug. “Leif. Leif Montgomery.”

Montgomery.

Oh shit. She was going to be sick.

Austin had a son. That had to be the answer. Holy fuck. He wouldn’t have kept a secret from her, not something like this, she knew that. Meaning he either hadn’t known about his kid or she was wrong about this whole thing.

Yesterday.

Oh, God. He knew now.

He knew and he hadn’t told her.

At least not that night. That had to be why he’d left the odd message. Why he’d closed the shop the day before. Dear God. What was she supposed to do? How as she supposed to deal with this turn of events? What was Austin going to do?

He hadn’t talked to her, but honestly, if she was acting this out of sorts, he had to be doing the same. He’d called her right away if she was correct on the timeline, meaning he’d tried. That had to be something.

She took a deep breath. Freaking out over something she wasn’t a hundred percent sure about wasn’t helping anything. She’d find out what was really happening and then take the next step. Hadn’t she just thought that she needed to be by Austin’s side no matter what? This was a true test of what she felt for him, and running away or being angry at something out of her control wouldn’t help anyone.

It clearly wouldn’t help the boy who started at her with sadness in his eyes.

Questions like how he’d gotten there, where was his mother, who was his mother filled her brain, but she set them to the side. First she needed confirmation. Then she’d deal with the outcome.

“Oh. Well.” What the hell could she say? “You’re in front of Montgomery Ink, so you must be in the right place.” Unless it was all a mistake. A very large one.

The boy, Leif, nodded. “I’m in the right place. That’s what the paper said. My dad works here so now I’m here to see him.”

Sierra swallowed hard. “Okay then. Let’s go inside and see him. It’s a bit cold out this morning to sit on the stoop for too much longer, don’t you think?” It was true, but as a good as an excuse as any.

Leif shrugged. “I’ve been out here and in the alley all night, so it’s actually warmer. But sure, let’s go in. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, but I told you, so that’s good. Right?”

“Right.” All night? An alley in the city of Denver? Leif was lucky to be there right then. Denver wasn’t one of the most dangerous cities, but it was still a metro area and Leif was still a young boy.

She held back a shudder at the thought of what could have happened to him. She’d ask the proper questions and get down to the heart of everything once they got inside. She just had to see Austin and everything would be fine.

Or everything would shatter around them but she wouldn’t know which until she stepped inside.

She stood on shaky legs, her cooling lattes in her hand. “Okay then. Let’s go inside.”

Leif nodded then stood beside her. His hands fisted at his side before he looked at her and the lattes. He scrambled to the door and opened it for her. Well, he had manners, that had to mean something.

Right?

Oh, God.

She stepped in first since he held the door open for her and looked around the shop, desperate to see Austin. Only he wasn’t in the front. Maya was in the corner, working on something on paper while Sloane had just walked out from behind the counter.

He froze at the sight of her…or maybe it was Leif behind her.

His eyes widened and Maya mumbled something under her breath.

It seemed Sierra’s guesses had been correct.

At least that’s what it looked like.

“Sierra,” Austin said from behind Sloane as he walked up from the back.

Her arms shook yet she couldn’t move. Sloane quickly came up to her and took the coffee from her hands, setting them down on the counter. She gave him a grateful smile. Well, at least she thought she did. From the look on his face, it had probably come out as more of a grimace.

“Austin,” she said after she cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

He frowned then looked behind her, his face draining of color. He saw it, too. He couldn’t miss it. What on earth were they going to do about this? What could be done about this?

“Who…who is your friend?” he asked, his voice level.

She turned around then did what was instinctual. She held out her hand and Leif took it quickly, surprising them both from the look on his face. He leaned closer, as if she could help him.

Oh, buddy, if that were only true.

She met Austin’s gaze. The only people in the building other than her and Leif, were Austin, Maya and Sloane—they were his family, both by blood and by choice. From the look on the latter two’s faces, they had an inkling of what was going on.

She didn’t let that hurt her—or she tried not to as a little slice went across her heart. They must have been there when he’d found out or something. After all, he’d tried to call. Once. No, she wasn’t going to be petty. She would help. There was no other choice.

Sierra looked down at Leif who had his gaze on Austin, his eyes wide, his lips pressed together tightly in a thin line.

“This is Leif,” she said softly, her eyes on Austin. “He says he’s here to see his Dad.”

Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t cry. Not then. There would be time to wrestle her emotions later.

“Leif,” Austin grunted out, seeming to come out of whatever trance that he’d been in. “Leif.”

Sierra squeezed Leif’s shoulder. Time for her to buck up and be strong. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about what is going on here. I don’t know anything at all, but I think I can guess. What do you say?”

Leif pressed into her harder, his whole body shaking.

She quickly knelt so she was at eye level. “Tell me what’s happening, honey. I can’t help if you don’t help me.” She’d said it to Leif, but it was for Austin as well.

Leif met her gaze and nodded, speaking to her alone. “I ran away from the group home. They were mean there. I don’t want to live there anymore. I know Mom is…dead…but that doesn’t mean I have to live there. Right? I mean, my dad is right there.” He didn’t look at Austin, but his words were a punch to the gut.

“You ran away?” Austin asked, suddenly closer than he’d been before.

Sierra looked over only to find Austin kneeling beside the two of them.

Thank God.

Leif looked over hesitantly. “Yeah. So?”

Austin shook his head. They would have to deal with this. Deal with all of it. “You’re Maggie’s son?”

Maggie. He’d mentioned that name before when they’d talked about ex’s. He hadn’t said they’d been too serious. Apparently they’d been serious enough.

“You shouldn’t have run away, Leif,” Austin said softly.

Leif’s eyes filled and Sierra held back a curse, glaring at Austin.

“Wait. I mean people would be looking for you. They’re probably worried. Not that I didn’t want to meet you, because I do kid. Damn it.” His eyes widened. “I guess I probably shouldn’t curse.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Sierra mumbled, and held back a sign as Austin ran a hand down her back.

That was something at least.

“So…you’re Leif,” Austin said, sounding like he had no idea what to say.

That made two of them.

Leif turned toward Austin and Sierra held back a breath. “I don’t want to live there anymore. Mom said you were my Dad because I had your name. If you don’t want me. Fine. But I don’t want to go back. I’ll live in the alley like I did last night.”

Tears filled Sierra’s eyes and she looked into Austin’s who had the same look on his face as she was sure she had.

“Alley?” he mouthed over Leif’s head.

She shook her head. They’d deal with that later.

Maya walked toward them, the phone in her hand. “We need to call the lawyer and then his social worker. They need to know he’s safe.”

“I’m not going with them!” Leif wrapped his arms around Sierra and hung on tight.

She gasped, not ready for his weight, but Austin steadied her. She wrapped her arms around his slight frame, soothing him as his body racked with sobs.

“Oh honey,” she murmured. Austin ran his hand down her back, but didn’t touch Leif. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t even know the full story.

Austin came closer, kissing her temple before whispering, “I’ll tell you everything soon. Trust me?”

She pulled away to meet his gaze and said the only thing she could say. “Yes. Always.”

Austin’s shoulders relaxed marginally. “Don’t leave me, okay?” he whispered again.

“Never,” she whispered then squeezed Leif tight. “Okay, honey. We need to call them like your Aunt Maya said.” Leif froze then looked over his shoulder.

Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say that, it just seemed natural. Well, hell, she was going about this all wrong but there wasn’t a guidebook for when your boyfriend’s secret love child came out of nowhere.

At least she didn’t think so.

“Then we’ll figure it all out,” she continued as if she hadn’t made the mistake.

“Okay,” Leif mumbled and Sierra let out a breath.

Austin couldn’t keep his eyes off Leif and Sierra felt for him. She had no idea what he was thinking or planning, but she knew she wouldn’t leave his side.

She couldn’t.

Not when she loved him.

Leif squeezed tighter and her heart lurched.

This had come out of nowhere but she wasn’t going to run away. Not again. She was done with running.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TWO WEEKS.

Two weeks and everything in Austin’s life had changed. He had a little boy under his roof, a woman he loved but hadn’t confessed the latter to, and a whirlwind of emotions that he didn’t think he’d ever untangle.

As soon as Sierra took charge the morning Leif had shown up, things had been rolling. Leif wouldn’t let her go, but that hadn’t stopped her. Austin had stayed by her side, trying to get ahold of his own thoughts and emotions but failing miserably. He was always the one in control, the one who knew what to do, but the last two crises in his life had shown him he hadn’t been as steady as he thought.

That scared him more than he thought it would.

Way fucking more.

Maya had called the lawyer, but Sierra had been the one to talk with him. His woman hadn’t even heard the whole story from Austin’s lips but took control when he wasn’t sure what to do.

He didn’t know what he’d have done without her.

While Leif had clung to Sierra’s side, refusing to let her go, she talked to the lawyer about what to do then handed Austin the phone when things turned to his choices.

The phone call had changed his life.

“Austin, I can push through and find a solution that will allow Leif to live with you now if that’s what the both of you want. But you have to tell me what you want.”

Austin had looked into Leif’s and Sierra’s eyes and realized there was only one thing to say.

“Push it though. He’s not going back there if we can help it.” Maggie had put Austin’s name on the birth certificate, meaning that Austin had the legal right to his son.

Leif had let out a breath while Sierra hiccupped a sob. Austin felt the sort of numbness that came over him when he had too much going on within himself. He had no idea if he’d made the best choice or even the choice that would be good for both of them, but he made the only choice he could.

Things moved quickly and slowly at the same time after that call. Sierra had to go back to the store, only to pick up her things. She’d left Becky and Jasinda alone at Eden, and that alone told Austin how much she’d do for him. Sure, she’d left them alone before, but they were about to open and she was on call. Eden was her rock, her baby, and she’d left it to take care of him and his son.

When the results from the DNA test came back positive four days after Leif had moved in, Austin’s world rocked once more.

This was his son.

His kid.

It wouldn’t be a foster care or adoption but a son returning to his father. And yet he didn’t know him.

His son.

Holy fuck, that still rocked him, and it had been two weeks of him saying it over and over to himself for him to actually understand what had happened.

The group home hadn’t been bad to Leif, despite the worst-case scenarios that had been running through Austin’s head. They’d just been, like most places that were state funded, understaffed and over capacity. Leif hadn’t been abused, truly neglected, starved, or beaten.

But he hadn’t been home either.

The kid refused to talk about his mom more than to say she was gone, and Austin understood that. Considering he was going through the pain of the possibility of losing his father, Austin didn’t begrudge the kid a bit.

He also had no idea what to do with a ten-year-old boy. His family and Sierra had stepped up to the plate and helped him though. He’d forced his mother and father to stay home and keep healthy while the rest of the family worked on setting up the house. Leif wouldn’t leave without Sierra, so Austin stayed home with the two of them, clearing out a guest room and letting Leif pick what he wanted. At the time, Austin wasn’t sure if this would be temporary or permanent, but it didn’t matter. Leif needed a home, and if looks said anything, Austin had been almost certain Leif was his son. The DNA results were a formality, confirmation for the lawyers and courts. He would find a way to make this work—for all of them. Sierra had been on her way to changing how he was thinking anyway.

His sister Meghan had pitched in first. She had two kids of her own and immediately brought them over. Leif was four years older than Cliff and even older than Sasha, but the kids kept him distracted enough that Sierra and Austin could breathe. It was awkward as hell at first, but Cliff had brought over his toys, which might have been too young for Leif, but the kids played together and got to know one another.

It didn’t surprise him that his sister hadn’t thought twice about introducing her children to their cousin.

Cousin.

Shit.

Miranda, Wes, and Storm had gone shopping for things a ten-year-old boy would need. Leif had a few things in storage, but until the judge ruled that Leif could stay permanently, he needed clothes and other things. Alex was off on assignment and couldn’t be there to help. Plus, Alex had his own issues, so Austin didn’t blame him for not dropping everything. Maya was running the shop and dealing with that other part of Austin’s life. Griffin had been the one to help with the lawyer and legal issues.

Sierra coordinated it all while Austin stood by her and tried to help where he could—even if it was just agreeing or putting his two cents in.

Austin didn’t know what he’d do without his family.

Without Sierra.

She hadn’t said a word about what had happened in his past, merely nodded, rolled her shoulders back, and dug in. They had discussed the probability that Leif was his son, but Sierra just shook her head.

“Wait until you’re ready to tell me the whole story. If you’re not ready and just trying to make me feel better, then it’s not helping anyone.”

“It’s not much of a story,” he said softly. He’d kissed her hard then relaxed.

She slept over each night, practically moving in. They hadn’t made love, but they’d spooned, holding each other deep into the night.

Sierra worked during the day and helped him at night.

Austin worked at getting Leif in school, dealt with lawyers during the day, and was learning how to be a father at night.

Taking care of the details and practicalities had taken over their lives, and now that those were somewhat under control, the emotional punch was taking its toll.

Now here he was, a father, a single one at that. Yes, Sierra was his in every way, but they hadn’t had the discussion they’d needed to. That would have to come soon because he wasn’t sure he could put any more of his own issues on her shoulders. He already felt like a heel for doing as much as he had so far.

Sierra was at work when Austin came home to find Leif sitting on the porch, staring out at the mountain range, his body language closed off. While Austin had been worrying out his own life, Sierra’s life, and that of his family, Leif was always in the forefront.

He’d always known that one day he’d become a father.

He just hadn’t expected to skip the first ten years of the child’s life. Now he had a ten-year-old on his hands and no idea what to do with him. How did one get to know one’s son when neither of them seemed to be very good at communication?

He saw his own eyes in that little face. Saw his chin, his hair, his cheekbones. Leif had Maggie’s nose, but that was it.

Leif was a Montgomery, and yet Austin didn’t know what the next step was.

“Go out there, son,” his mother said from his side. She’d taken the afternoon to watch Leif when he got out of school so Austin could try to catch up at work. Harry was doing okay considering and hadn’t wanted Marie around hovering. A new grandchild had been just the ticket for the both of him.

Funny how things happened.

“I don’t know what to say to him, Mom,” Austin said softly. He’d never felt the need to lie to his mother as an adult. Sure, he’d been a dumb kid when he was growing up, but now that he was older, he wanted advice and comfort. He didn’t hide things.

Other than what he felt for Sierra, but that was something he needed to process on his own.

Eventually.

“Go find out what his hobbies are. Find out his favorite color. Ask about his day. He finished his homework, but you can ask about it.” Marie cupped his face, and Austin sighed. “He’s a very bright boy, Austin. He smiles when he thinks no one is looking.”

“I know. I’ve seen that.” Hadn’t he been watching? Hadn’t he been trying to figure out what to do?

“I know, baby. You’re trying. This has thrown us all for a loop. I liked Maggie when you were dating her, though I didn’t know her well. It’s really sad that she’s gone.”

Austin nodded. “I know. I don’t know how Leif is dealing with that.”

Marie shook her head. “Well, thankfully, Sierra set up time with a counselor.”

Austin sighed. “She said hers helped her, and frankly, though I don’t like telling strangers my feelings, if it helps him, then sure.”

“Good for you, son. This is a blessing. I know it. The fact that we have a chance with him now is something we can’t take for granted. I’m just upset we lost ten years with him.”

His mother’s mouth thinned, and Austin pinched his nose. They’d been over this before. No one, including Austin and Sierra, was pleased that Maggie had hidden him. In fact, Austin was fucking livid. But right then, yelling and storming around wasn’t going to help Leif.

There had been no secret letter or notes to Austin in the case of Maggie’s death. There had been nothing but Leif’s last name and Austin’s on his birth certificate. The lack of answers raged in Austin to no end, but at this point, there was nothing he could do but move on and find a future with the son he’d just met.

“I know you’re upset, Mom.”

Marie let out a breath. “I’m sorry for bringing it up again. I’ll try to stop it, but I can’t right now. Go out on the porch with your son and get to know him. He’s not that scary, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t bite.”

Austin cracked a grin then kissed his mom on the cheek. “I love you. Thank you for everything.”

Marie smiled softly. “I love you too. Will Sierra be home soon?”

Home. Sierra technically didn’t live there, but he’d gotten accustomed to her being there. God, he didn’t find it fair that he was throwing all of his on her shoulders. She’d lost a child of her own, and now she was essentially raising his with him—one that was the same age as her child would have been.

It wasn’t fucking fair, and Austin wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it.

“Should be,” he said absently.

His mom studied his face, frowning. “See you soon, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said again as he walked her out.

He found himself watching Leif on the porch, his hands in his pockets just like his son’s.

His son.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to saying that.

“What are you doing out here?”

Leif turned around, his eyes wide. “Just thinking.”

Like pulling teeth, Austin thought, though he wasn’t much different. Like father, like son.

Fuck.

“About what?”

Leif shrugged again and sank down into one of the deck chairs. “Things. How was work, Austin?”

The kid called him Austin, not Dad, something they both probably weren’t ready for—not by a long shot.

Austin shrugged much like Leif had. “Good, I guess.” The kid blinked and looked away. Ah, yeah, maybe he should share a bit more to get Leif to do the same. The kid was a human being, and Austin had interacted with plenty of those. Why was this so hard?

“I had two consults today. That’s where I talk with clients about what they want.”

Leif perked up and turned. “Really? Do you tattoo them right then?”

Austin relaxed at Leif’s interest. Tattoos were something he could talk about. He might not look like the perfect dad with his sleeves, beard, and build, but tattoos weren’t taboo to him. Maybe he’d show Leif that too.

“Sometimes. It depends on the design and timeframe. A huge design might take more than one sitting. Plus, I like for the people I work with to go home with something like that and think about it just in case. I don’t want to ink them and have them freak out that they made the wrong choice.”

“Because tattoos are permanent.”

Austin nodded, holding out his arm. “Yep. I can do cover-ups, and there’s tattoo removal if they really need it, but that hurts like a bit— It hurts a lot. Plus, you’re just scarring the tissue then, so it’s not really the same.”

Leif studded Austin’s arm intently. “So you have it all tattooed?”

“Yeah. Both arms. I did some of it. Maya did the rest. They’re called sleeves.”

Leif looked up, his eyes wide. “You tattooed yourself.”

Austin grinned. “Yeah. I can’t do big ones on my own because the pain gets to me in a way that I get a little tired, and most angles are too hard, but I like to know I have my own artwork on my body.”

“That’s cool.” Leif held out a hesitant hand. “What’s this one? It’s the same thing on your sign.”

Austin sucked in a breath. “It’s the Montgomery Iris. Wes and Storm’s company has the same logo. It’s our family logo or crest. All of us Montgomerys have the same tattoo, just in different places and in different colors sometimes.”

“Really? Even Marie and Harry?”

Austin grinned. “Even Marie and Harry.”

“So what do you have to do to get one?” Leif asked, his gaze on Austin’s ink rather than his face.

Austin swallowed hard. “Be family. And eighteen.”

Leif looked up and grinned. “Do you think…”

Austin sucked in a breath. “I think when you’re eighteen and if you want one, then sure. But not in a place that shows if you want to work in a place that doesn’t like tattoos. We might like them and have no problem with them, but some people judge, and I’d rather you not have to deal with that when you’re eighteen.”

Leif blinked, his eyes wet. Austin knew his were the same. Must be allergies. “Only eight years then.”

Holy shit. Only eight years. He’d lost so fucking much. Yeah, it sucked, and he shouldn’t blame the dead, but he did. Maggie had taken something precious from him for one reason or another. She’d put his name on the birth certificate so yeah, he could be traced eventually like he had been, but she’d kept his son from him. Maybe deep down she wanted him to know about Leif, but he didn’t know if that was the case. She’d hidden him. Most likely because she thought he was a freak, but right then, he didn’t care about the reason. He just cared about the fact he’d missed Leif’s birth, missed his first words, his first steps, his first day of school.

He’d missed so much, and now he was missing more because they had a long road to figure out how the two of them would work together as a unit.

Life was short, and Austin didn’t want to lose any more time with his son.

“Hey, you two, I brought dinner,” Sierra said from the doorway, a box of chicken in her hand.

Austin stood and took the box out of her hands, leaning down to kiss her. “Thank you, Legs.”

She grinned up at him then looked under his arm at Leif. “You hungry, Leif?”

“Uh huh. Did you get the beans and rice? That’s my favorite.” He ducked his head and blushed.

Hell, he was falling for his own kid.

Austin looked into Sierra’s eyes, and he knew she was falling too.

They needed to talk.

Soon.

“Yeah,” she said after clearing her throat. “I got the beans and rice. It’s my favorite part too.”

“Mine three,” he added, noting how they were acting like a family.

The three of them.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he would take it one day at a time. It was all he could do.

“IS HE ASLEEP?” Sierra asked, running her hands over her hair.

Austin walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Leif had taken the room upstairs and across the hall, meaning it was the farthest from Austin’s first-floor master bedroom. It worked for now, and knowing what Austin wanted to do that night, he was grateful.

“Yeah. He went right out. Apparently, he had a field day during gym so he was tired.”

Sierra cocked her head to the side. “Did we know he had a field day?”

Austin shook his head. “No, at least you and I didn’t. I don’t think Mom did either, or she would have mentioned it. Leif said it was a small one though, just during gym and not a whole-day thing like we used to have when we were kids.”

She frowned. “If you’re sure then. That sounds like something we should have known, right?”

Austin ran a hand over his face. “I honestly have no idea, but we know now, and I think he’s opening up enough that if he has one in the future, we’ll know.” At least he hoped so. At this point it was a gamble if he got Leif to open up about what was going on in his life. Their talk about tattoos and family on the porch, though, had been decent, better than most of the talks they usually had.

Sierra stood next to the bed wearing one of his shirts and a pair of volleyball shorts. Shorts that made her legs look even sexier. His cock perked up at the sight, and he swallowed back a groan. It had been a long while since they’d made love. They’d been too afraid to do anything in the house with Leif around. Sure, it wasn’t a problem for most couples with kids in the house, but this was a first for him, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

As it was, he and Decker had quietly taken down the dungeon in the basement. It had been pretty easy considering Austin hadn’t had that much of a setup, but it was a little like saying goodbye to a part of him in the process. He couldn’t risk having a place Leif could easily find. What he and Sierra did in private wasn’t any of his business, but it was still irresponsible not to find a way to shield him from things he didn’t understand. In addition, nothing had been formally finalized when it came to Leif staying there. Yes, the kid was his blood, but the courts had to put their rubber stamp on it. People feared what they didn’t understand, and considering the reasons Maggie had left him, he wasn’t about to do anything that could disrupt Leif’s life yet again.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Sierra asked, walking to him slowly.

He opened his arms, and she sank into him, her head resting on his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

Sierra pulled back, her brow furrowed. “I’ve been here the whole time, Austin. How could you miss me?”

He let his hand fall through her hair. “You have been with me this whole time. I don’t know how to thank you.” He frowned. “Have I thanked you at all? Or have I just taken your help, guidance, and generally kick-ass attitude for granted?”

She smiled softly then cupped his cheek. He turned into her palm, kissing it gently. “You’ve said thank you. You’ve also worked your butt off in an impossible situation. You have a son, Austin. That is so freaking scary, and yet you raised your chin and said, ‘okay, let’s do this.’ ”

He shook his head. “I was only able to say that because you were there every step of the way. Sure, there was no other answer when it came to Leif. I wasn’t about to leave him in a group home when I had plenty of room here, but you did the same, Sierra. You put everything on hold and then changed your life for him. And for me. You accepted him without argument. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

She sighed. “You had room in your heart for him too, Austin. I believe that even if you can’t see it yet.”

Austin swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to do with his feelings when it came to Leif. It was all a little too surreal to contemplate.

“I can see you’re not ready for that yet, and I get it. As for repaying me? You don’t have to. I get to watch you two work together and figure out what it means for him to be here. I’m getting everything I need.”

God, she was perfect. She was giving up so much for him. They had started out just trying to have fun and see where their relationship went, and now she was practically living with him and playing house with Leif. She hadn’t asked for any of it, and Austin felt like he kept waiting for her to say it was enough and leave.

He couldn’t think about that right then though.

At the moment, he wanted to think about something else.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her. “Are you sure you’re getting everything you need?”

Sierra blushed, the heat of her skin scorching his. “Austin…”

“It’s been two weeks, baby. He’s across the house, and we can be quiet.” He raised a brow. “Well, I can at least be quiet. We might need to find a way to gag you to make sure you don’t scream too loudly.”

“Oh really? Gagging me now?”

He wasn’t a huge fan of ball gags because he liked to hear her say his name, but…no, not then.

“I want to slide into your heat while my body covers you. I want to go slow and quiet, and make sure you feel every inch of me. What do you say, Legs?”

Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating at his words alone.

“Are you sure you can keep me quiet?”

Austin groaned then pulled her closer. “We can try our hardest. I’m not about to stop making love to you because Leif is here. We’ll find a way.”

“Then make love to me.”

He slanted his mouth of hers, letting her sweet taste dance over his tongue. He walked her backward toward the bed, his hands in her hair, on her face, his mouth on hers. She moaned into his mouth, and he nipped her lip.

“Quiet,” he whispered.

Her eyes brightened. “You taste so good though.” Her hand cupped his dick, and he groaned.

“Quiet,” she whispered.

He snorted then stood back before stripping her quickly. She gasped, apparently surprised he could move so fast.

“Get on the bed and stay on your back.”

She did so, her gaze on his. Her pink-tipped nipples hardened, and he palmed his erection through his jeans.

“Spread your legs.”

When she did, he held back another groan. “You’re wet for me, baby,” he whispered. “So fucking wet. You want me to eat you out before I sink my cock into you? Will that help the ache?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

Austin quickly shucked his clothes then got on the bed. He wrapped her legs around his neck and licked her pussy in one long swipe.

When he heard a muffled scream, he looked up to see a pillow over her face. Well, that was one way to be quiet. He went back to his feast, nibbling and sucking on her lower lips and clit. She rocked into his face, moaning softly as he increased pressure on her clit. When he hummed against her at the same time he rimmed her ass with his finger, she came.

Hard.

“My Sierra likes it when I play with her ass?” he asked, licking her taste off his lips.

She moved the pillow from her face and nodded. “Yes. I like anal sex. Sue me. We can do that later though. Please put that cock in me.”

He raised a brow at her orders. Tonight was different with them, and they both knew it. They weren’t a Dom and a sub. They were Austin and Sierra making love. That was their kink, and Austin counted himself lucky he’d found someone who felt the same.

“I’m going to fuck that ass later then, Legs. Now let me get a condom first so I can make love to you.”

She gripped his wrist and shook her head. “No condom. Not ever again. I’m on birth control, and we both got tested. I want you in me.”

He held back a groan and crushed his lips to hers. “I can’t wait to be bare in you again, baby. I know we did it without one before, but this time it’s for keeps. Got me?”

“Then be in me.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, keeping his gaze on hers. As he pushed in, her mouth opened on a silent gasp. He slowly rocked into her, inch by inch until his balls rested against her ass and he could feel every sweet inch of her around his dick.

Austin swallowed hard, his arms shaking. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he whispered.

“I…I…” She blinked up at him then ran her hands up his back. “Move. I want to feel all of you.”

He nodded then pulled out before slowly thrusting back in. They kept their gazes on one another as he made slow love to his woman, the one he loved. When they came together, they whispered each other’s names, their bodies shaking.

He’d known what she was about to say before she’d told him to move. Just as he’d almost said it as well. There was a reason he wasn’t saying it yet, but he couldn’t get a hold on it. He loved Sierra Elder, but now that things had changed, he wasn’t sure it would last.

His heart did a funny lurch thing, and he kissed Sierra softly, trying to get the sting to go away. He needed her more than anything, but Austin wasn’t sure she needed him as much.

That scared him more than the thought of forever.

Way more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I STILL CAN’T GET over the fact that you’re a daddy,” Shep said as he sat on his aunt and uncle’s porch, enjoying a beer.

Austin snorted from his chair beside him. “I’m still not over it yet.”

Shep shook his head then took another sip of his beer. “What do you think, Grandpa, you believe it?”

Harry, who sat on the other side of Austin, took a sip of his water. “I do, only because I can see Austin in every little motion Leif makes. It’s funny that kid is so much like you when he had a full decade without you.”

Shep held back an angry response to that. He’d met Maggie once right when he’d left Denver for good so he could move to New Orleans. She’d been spoiled, selfish, and not at all like what Austin had now. He’d had to hold back a few responses when it came to Leif’s mom. It wasn’t fair to speak ill of the dead, but she’d deprived his cousin and the rest of the Montgomerys memories and experiences they’d never get back. And Leif had been forced to stay in a group home, not knowing what his own future would hold because she kept him a secret. That was a fucking huge sin in Shep’s book, and although she was gone, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive her for the look on Austin’s face.

His cousin might say he was over it and moving on, but Shep knew better. Austin had no idea how to act around his son, and that was a shame. Sure, the kid was starting to open up, but he hadn’t been around the whole Montgomery clan all at once yet. That was enough to scare anyone, let alone a kid who’d had only his mother for most of his life.

“Leif doing good in school?” Harry asked, his hands shaking.

Shep held back the stinging at the back of his eyes. The radiation was hard on the man, they could all see that, but Harry was strong. Plus with Marie by his side, he was stronger. The prognosis was good according to Harry, and though they were all worried, Shep knew that if they stayed positive, they could make it though.

It didn’t make it any less hard to watch Harry deal with the pain.

Shep met Austin’s eyes and saw his cousin was dealing with the same thing as Shep. It was awful to feel so helpless for those you loved.

“He’s doing good. He’s got a test today that we studied for last night.”

Shep smiled softly at that. The man sounded like such a dad—even though he knew Austin didn’t feel it.

They talked about Leif some more, and Shep soaked it all up. He wanted to know more about the kid’s life and how he was taking it all in.

“You think he’s ready for the barbecue tomorrow?” Shep asked when Harry fell asleep.

Austin stood, throwing a blanket over his father. “Leif? Yeah. I think he’ll be fine. If not, then we can leave. He’s met most of you guys individually, but never as a group.”

“We’re a bit crazy to people who know us, let alone newcomers.”

Austin snorted. “Sierra is coming too, and it’s her first barbecue with the Montgomerys.”

Shep let out a whistle. “Same for Shea actually. At least they’ll have each other when we throw them to the wolves.”

“True. Speaking of Shea, how is she? It’s been a month, and she still seems, I don’t know, off somehow.”

Shep let out a breath. “I don’t know, man. I’ve noticed it too and commented on it. All she says is that she’s fine. Fine. I hate that fucking word. It doesn’t mean fine. It’s a landmine of doom and tears.”

“Damn. You think it’s her mom?”

Shep sighed. Her mom was a first-class bitch and had tried to take everything from Shea more than once.

“I hope not, but the thought’s crossed my mind.”

“I don’t know what to say, Shep. I’m not much help if we can’t figure it out.”

“You have enough on your plate right now that doesn’t have to do with me. Worry about that, and I’ll figure it out. It’s got to be something because she isn’t fine. We both know that. Hopefully she’ll open up to me because it’s killing me that she doesn’t trust me enough to do so.”

Austin looked over sharply. “Trust? You think that’s it?”

Shep ran a hand over his face. “What else could it be? I thought we were open and honest about everything. I guess not.”

“Shep.”

“Whatever. I’m going to head out and back to Griffin’s. Shea is there working on something, and, well, I want to be there.” He met Austin’s gaze then looked over at a sleeping Harry. “We’ll probably head back to New Orleans soon. We’ve been here for a month, and though Shea can do everything from her computer and I’ve been working at Montgomery Ink, we need to get back.”

Austin nodded. “I know. I figured. You just let me know when, and I’ll help if you need me.”

He hugged his cousin, ran a hand over his uncle’s head, and then went back into the house so he could leave. Something was up with Shea. She wasn’t happy, and he could only think it was something he’d done.

He swallowed hard. There was no way he could let her get away with not telling him. He loved her more than anything on this earth, and he needed to know how to help.

Even if it broke him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“HOW MANY MONTGOMERYS are there going to be again?”

Austin didn’t answer her, and Sierra had to turn, narrowing her eyes. Her man grinned, his hands in his pockets.

“You sure look sexy in that dress, Legs.”

She held back her smile at his words. She did look good in her sundress, but he wouldn’t be let off the hook with nice words. Wait. Was she too sexy? She turned on her heel and looked in Austin’s full-length mirror on the back of his closet door.

“Is it too sexy?” Damn it. She wanted to make a good impression and couldn’t do it if she looked like some trollop on the hunt. Yes, she said trollop. It happens.

Strong hands wrapped around her waist as Austin came up from behind her. He tilted her head to the side and ran soft kisses up her neck. Shivers racked her body, and her knees went weak. Damn man and his prowess.

“You look amazing, Legs. Not too sexy,” he added as she narrowed her eyes again. “Your legs look hot, but that’s because they always do. In fact, the only way they could look hotter is if they were wrapped around my waist…or my neck.” He kissed behind her temple. Seriously. Damn man. “In fact, I might have you change into pants or a nun’s habit so my brothers don’t get a look at those legs. Those are mine, baby.”

She rolled her eyes. Territorial much? “They can look all they want, but I’m still coming home to you.” Oh, boy. That sounded more like a wife’s statement than a girlfriend’s. She didn’t meet Austin’s eyes just in case he took it wrong. She didn’t want to ruin their day before it even got started. “Now, you didn’t answer my first question. How many Montgomerys are going to be there?”

Austin moved back and patted her ass. “Just the siblings and their spouses. Oh, and Shep, Shea, and Decker. Some might bring a girlfriend or, in Maya’s case, Jake since he’s always around, but other than that, Mom and Dad didn’t want to overwhelm you, Shea, and Leif with all the extras right out the gate.”

“You do realize that since there are eight of you in that one family it’s always going to be overwhelming? There’s no taking you in small doses.”

He patted her ass again, and she rolled her eyes. “What can we say? We like the noise. It’s comforting. Now finish getting ready since I know you want to make sure you’re perfect—something that’s already done in my eyes by the way—while I go get Leif ready. He’s freaking out a bit.”

She warmed at his compliment even as she worried for the little boy who had come into their lives so unexpectedly. “Do you want my help with Leif?”

Something odd came in his eyes, but he shook it away. Weird. “I’ve got it. I need to get to know him better anyway, right?”

Huh. That reaction was…different. He kissed her on the corner of her mouth then left the room. What had she done? Said? Maybe she was just looking into everything too hard. It had been a rough few weeks.

She finished putting on her mascara and called it good enough for meeting the family. The whole family. All at once. No pressure or anything. Thank God Shea would be there in similar shoes.

Her phone rang from her purse sitting on the bed, and she stepped over to answer it. Her shoe got caught on shirt Austin had left on the floor, so she answered the phone without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

“Sierra, it’s Rodney.”

Her heart sped up, and she sat shakily on the edge of the bed. She’d heard from her lawyer and friend a few times since that horrible phone call from her in-laws, but not often. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard from Todd and Marsha again. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more that worried her. If they had nothing up their sleeves, they’d call and harass her like they used to when they were out of options. Now they’d left her alone. That could mean they’d given up, but Sierra knew better. They were up to something, and she had no idea what it was.

That ball of worry turned into stone in her belly, and she had to take a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Rodney. What is it?”

“Well, I have good news and bad news.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“The good news is that we haven’t received any court documents about their suit. The bad news is they are still trying to make waves.”

Her body shook. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re not out of the dark yet and they’re looking for ways to sue you. I’m sorry, Sierra.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I have to go now.”

She hung up before he could say anything back and tried to find her composure. Marsha and Todd wanted to sue her and take Eden. They wouldn’t be able to. There was no way unless they found a way to pay their way into that outcome. The fact they’d almost done that before worried her, but she had to breathe. She had a family barbecue to attend and a little boy who needed her.

A little boy who wasn’t her own, but she was damn sure acting like he was.

She put her phone back in her purse, straightened her dress, and then walked out of the bedroom, putting away her fears and what-ifs. She’d tell Austin about the call and what she was thinking after the barbecue. She didn’t want to ruin the party and Leif’s introduction with her own problems. They had enough on their own without adding hers into the mix.

Austin and Leif sat in the living room, both silent, not looking at each other. Well, they looked, but only when they thought the other wasn’t. She knew Austin was trying to get to know his son, but it was hard. They honestly didn’t know how to go about it and were failing in some respects. Yes, Austin had gone full steam into being a father and hadn’t pushed Leif away, and Leif had come to Austin in the first place, but it wasn’t enough. They were two strangers in an impossible situation.

“Ready to head out?” she said, startling them both.

Austin stood quickly, running his hand over his hair. She held back a smile as Leif did the same thing. The two of them were so cute she just wanted to hold them and never let them go.

“Ready,” Austin said gruffly.

“Ready,” Leif said as the same time.

Too. Cute.

THE NUMBER of Montgomerys in one place was a little startling—no, overwhelming and “of the oh-my-God variety.

“It’s like they multiply when they’re together,” Shea whispered from her side.

“Exponentially,” Sierra whispered back, grateful for the other woman’s presence, though she did seem a bit pale. “You feeling okay, hon?”

Shea met her gaze, her eyes wide. “I’m fine.”

Huh, Austin was right. Shea kept saying fine, and no one believed it. Poor Shep must be out of his mind.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. I’m going to go find Shep. You okay right here?”

Sierra nodded and watched Shea walk away toward her husband. Whatever was going on with that woman, she hoped she’d be better than fine soon.

A small body leaned into her, and she looked down at Leif, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“What’s up, honey?”

“Just looking,” he mumbled, and she rubbed his back.

Poor guy. There were a lot of Montgomerys congregated in Marie and Harry’s backyard. Thankfully, no one had brought any significant others that they weren’t married to, other than Maya who brought Jake. Sierra still didn’t understand that relationship other than the fact that the two were best friends who didn’t sleep with each other. If that worked for them, good; however, Sierra still didn’t understand the odd undercurrents. Not that it was her place to judge in the first place.

Well, that wasn’t quite right, Austin had brought Sierra. Since when had she thought of him as her husband? Must have been a slip of the tongue.

They stood together silently, watching the others talk and joke around. Leif had already made the rounds with Austin at first. She’d held back so she wouldn’t interfere. She’d make her own introductions later. It wasn’t like she hadn’t met them all before—Leif as well. This was just the first full family event for the both of them.

There was that word again.

Family.

She shook it off. Today was about Leif’s future, not hers. Her gaze landed on Harry, who sat in an outdoor chair, a smile on his pale face. God, the man had to be in pain, but he looked like he was just resting. Apparently, he was doing better than what they’d all thought, so that was good. However, she knew prostate cancer didn’t go away overnight. He was fighting, so that was all that mattered then.

Austin prowled toward her then, his gaze on hers, his shoulders wide, his stride strong. God, she loved him. If only she could actually buck up the nerve and say that. She didn’t know what was holding her back, but it was something.

His gaze left hers to Leif at her side, and a cold glint washed over his eyes before he blinked it away.

Yes. That. That was part of why she held back from telling him she loved him. Leif went to her first. Always. He trusted her and leaned into her hold more than he did with Austin…if he ever leaned at all.

God. Was Austin jealous of her? No, that couldn’t be it. She must just be imagining things.

“Hey you,” she said softly, shrugging off her feelings. She was blowing things out of proportion. That had to be it.

“Hey.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers. He pulled away, reaching out for Leif, then put his hand down as Leif burrowed into her side more.

The shattered look on Austin’s face broke her heart.

“Having fun?” Austin asked after an odd moment of silence.

Leif shrugged.

A clatter of feet on the deck and Cliff ran up to them, Sasha right on his heels, even at such a young age. That little girl wasn’t about to be left out of whatever her big brother got into. Sierra couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, Leif. Want to go play?” Cliff held a rubber ball like the one she’d used in gym for dodge ball or even kick ball.

“Play!” Sasha said as she clapped her hands.

Sierra’s ovaries—the ones she’d thought long dead—perked up.

Well, that complicated things.

“Can I?” Leif asked. Her. Not Austin.

She met Austin’s gaze, helpless. Leif wasn’t hers, no matter how hard she tried. She was only Austin’s girlfriend, not a replacement for Maggie.

Austin gave her a slight nod, his mouth drawn tight.

“Sure, honey. Have fun and make sure you let Sasha play without hurting her.”

Leif rolled his eyes and hugged her hard before running off with Cliff, Sasha trailing behind. There went those damn ovaries again.

“Be careful with Sasha, Cliff! And let her play,” Meghan called out as she and her husband, Richard, walked toward Austin and Sierra.

Austin turned, holding out his arm so Sierra nestled under it, resting against his side. Honestly, there were only a few other places better than where she was right then.

“Hey, little sister,” Austin said as the other couple came closer.

Meghan smiled and leaned into her brother, kissing his chin before coming over to hug Sierra too. This family sure loved hugging.

Well, most of them. Richard hadn’t even looked her way or bothered to say hello. She hadn’t liked him the first time she’d seen him, and that attitude hadn’t changed.

Nor did she think it would any time soon.

“Richard,” Austin said, his tone cooler.

The other man raised a brow. “I believe we already did introductions when you brought over that child about twenty minutes ago. Is there a reason we are doing this again?”

“Richard,” Meghan whispered.

Yep. He was an asshole.

“We like to say hello to people when we walk up to them,” Austin said casually, his body strung tight against Sierra. “You know, being polite and all that crap.”

“Whatever you say,” Richard said dully then turned to Meghan. “This is the second one we’ve come to in a row. I think we can call it a day.”

Meghan’s eyes pleaded for Austin to not say anything, and Sierra felt for the woman. There was clearly something going on here that Sierra wasn’t privy to, and Austin didn’t like it one bit.

“I see Griffin and Alex over there. Let’s go talk to them since I really haven’t seen them today,” Sierra said, blinking up at Austin.

Austin growled softly then sighed. “I need to go ask Mom a question, so you head on over. I’ll be there in a bit.” He glared at Richard. “Let me know if you need anything, Meghan. Anything.”

“I believe my wife is just fine,” Richard bit out.

“I’m fine, Austin,” Meghan said, her voice tired. “I just need to say goodbye to Richard and then I’ll mingle. Promise.”

“Excuse me?” Richard asked, his cheeks going red.

“You’re right, honey. If you’re busy, then head on home. I’ll take care of the kids, and since we came in separate cars, we’re fine.”

Sierra pulled Austin away as the couple fought. Meghan stood up for herself, saying she and the kids were staying at the barbecue at least, but Sierra had a feeling things weren’t about to end there.

“I’m going to kill that bastard for putting that look on her face,” Austin ground out.

Sierra stopped him then stood in front of him. “Don’t do anything here. Not in front of their kids. Not in front of Leif. Okay?” She stood on her toes and kissed the bottom of his chin along his beard.

Austin growled again then kissed her hard. Right there in front of the entire Montgomery clan. “For them and for you. If it wasn’t for that, I’d beat the shit out of him.”

“I don’t think that’s what Meghan wants.”

“Screw what Meghan wants. That guy is an asshole.”

Sierra snorted. “He is, but you not doing what Meghan wants puts you in the same lump with that jerk, so respect her wishes.”

He narrowed his eyes then nodded. “Fine. I need to go talk to Mom like I said I was going to. You gonna be okay with Griffin and Alex?”

She patted his chest and smiled. “Of course I will. They’re your brothers.”

“That’s what scares me.”

He left her laughing before she walked over to where Griffin and Alex sat on two lawn chairs. A third one sat next to them, empty.

“You mind if I join you?” she asked.

Griffin grinned at her and waved her to sit. “Of course. We’re just talking about random crap.”

Alex gave her a nod then took a sip of his drink.

“What Alex means to say with that nod is, hello there, Sierra, are you enjoying yourself?”

Sierra searched Alex’s face and held back a frown at the glassy look in his eyes. It was only the afternoon. Surely he couldn’t have drunk that much already?

It wasn’t her business, but from the worried look in Griffin’s eyes, it was going to be a family problem soon.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Griffin asked after yet another awkward Montgomery moment passed.

Sierra smiled. “Yes, you have a lovely family.”

Alex snorted but didn’t say anything, merely took another drink.

Griffin sighed then leaned forward. Since he was on the other side of Alex, he had to talk over his quiet brother in order to speak to her. “Have you heard any good Austin stories yet?”

Sierra perked up. “Austin stories?”

“Oh yeah. We have tons of them. Wes and Storm have more since they’re closer in age, but we have enough for blackmail.”

Sierra laughed and shook her head. “Are you sure Austin wants you dishing these out if they’re blackmail material?”

“Hell no. That’s why we’re going to tell you.”

Sierra leaned back in the chair and listened to Griffin tell her stories of Austin’s youth that included a trip or two to the ER. The kid might have wanted to take care of all his younger siblings, but he got in a lot of trouble with a younger Shep. God, she really loved this family. Even the grumpy people opened their arms for her. Well, maybe not Alex, but he didn’t spit at her at least. They were just getting to the really juicy stuff—Austin’s teenage years—when Wes and Storm joined them, bringing over their own chairs.

“There was this one time we caught him and what’s her name down in his truck near the train tracks,” Wes said. “Damn, what was her name?”

Storm smiled. “Susan. Susan Lady.”

“Lady? Hell, I forgot that,” Wes said on a laugh.

“What are we laughing at?” Maya asked as she strolled over with Jake by her side. The man didn’t talk much, but, damn, Maya had one sexy friend. Not that Sierra was really looking.

Much.

“They’re telling me Austin stories,” Sierra answered.

“I have a few of those,” Jake said, his voice low and deep.

Maya rolled his eyes. “We all do. You don’t get much privacy in this family. So, what do you want to know? I’m pretty sure we all know the night he lost his virginity since Mom freaked out.”

Sierra raised a brow, holding back a grin. “I’m good without knowing that.”

Maya shrugged. “Your loss. Hmm, there was the night he turned twenty-one and got really, really drunk. That was fun.”

“If you are all done making fun of the man who can’t stand up for himself, I’m here to rescue Sierra,” Decker said as he came over.

Sierra cocked her head. “I need to be rescued?”

Decker snorted. “No, but Austin does. Griffin, buddy, I expected better of you. What would you do if you brought a woman over and they told her all your stories?”

Griffin smiled. “I did. Once. Never again. Oh, the humanity.” He shuddered even as he laughed, and Sierra rolled her eyes and stood.

“I wouldn’t want Austin to feel bad, so lead the way.”

Decker held out his arm, and she linked hers with his. “Thanks for all the stories, guys. I’m glad I came.”

They waved her off then started back on Austin stories. Apparently when they had one, there were three more to be told. What a family.

“Are you really having fun?” Decker asked as he led her to Austin.

Sierra nodded. “Totally. Your family is a hoot.” She held back a wince.

“It’s okay, Sierra. They’re my family if not by blood.”

She relaxed, keeping her eye on where Meghan watched over the children. Leif was having a blast it looked like, so at least that was one less thing to worry about.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said then held back a reaction at the look on Miranda’s face. The woman stood by her parents but watched Decker move, never letting her eyes leave him.

Interesting.

Seriously, she loved this family.

“Hey, Legs, having fun?” Austin asked as he met them halfway, drinks in his hand. “Thanks for rescuing her, Decker.”

Decker smiled and shook his head. “No problem. Now I’m going to go back and tell them that story about you and the turkey baster.”

Sierra coughed up her drink. “Turkey baster?”

Austin blushed. “It’s not what you think.”

“I’m not sure what to think.”

Decker just laughed and left them alone.

“No really, what did you do with the turkey baster?”

“There was alcohol involved, but it wasn’t a sex thing. I promise. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Sierra’s mind went in so many different directions she shuddered at what else could have happened. “Nope. I don’t want to know.”

Austin wrapped his free arm around her then leaned down, kissing her softly. “Thanks for coming.”

She sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned into him. “I love this.”

He froze before relaxing as if he’d figured out exactly what she’d said. She swallowed her disappointment and let it go. Something was going on with him, and she couldn’t tell what it was. But whatever happened, it scared her more than threatening phone calls and the unknown.

Much more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AUSTIN GUIDED the needle across his client’s skin, paying extra attention to detail. He did not want to fuck up this tattoo. The man in the chair, Saint, was one big-ass motherfucker.

Scary too.

Austin knew he was part of the local Hell’s Legion MC, but that was about it. He didn’t know what else the guy did, nor did he particularly want to know.

While Austin was big, Saint was bigger. He didn’t have as much ink as Austin did, but it was cutting it close. Over the years, he’d worked on a few pieces on the man, but unlike what he normally did, he never asked what they meant.

He valued his life too much.

Not that he thought Saint was going to kill him or anything.

Maybe.

He finished up the shading of Anubis on Saint’s side, wiping it clean for the last time. The scary-ass dude hadn’t moved an inch during the entire five-hour session. The man hadn’t even groaned or twitched.

Austin even winced sometimes during his sessions.

Not Saint.

He went through the aftercare instructions as Saint stood, that bored yet I-will-cut-you look on his face telling Austin everything he needed to know.

Do not mess with this guy.

Saint left a roll of hundreds on the front desk then walked out, throwing his colors—his leather vest that told what MC he was part of—back on without wincing at the contact with his tattoo.

As soon as the man left, Austin let out a breath. Jesus, he didn’t know what it was about that guy, but Austin was never fully calm around him. In fact, when Saint made an appointment—or showed up randomly as he was prone to do—Austin made sure he cleared out the place as much as possible. The man seemed to want privacy, and Austin didn’t want to step on his toes.

“Is he gone?” Maya asked as she walked out from the back, her eyes on the door.

“Yep. He paid up front, though I didn’t quote him. Let me go see how much he put down.”

Maya sighed. “That man sure is built, and I wouldn’t mind taking a ride, but he scares me a bit too much, you know?”

Austin repressed a shudder. “Never say anything about riding Saint or any other man again. We may be friends, but you’re also my sister. Oh, and if you touch Saint, or think about touching Saint, I’m sending you to a convent.”

His sister snorted. “Yes, I can totally see me in a nun’s habit with my eyebrow piercing and ink. And anyway, I’m allowed to think of Saint in naughty ways without actually touching him. He's hot in a serial-killer kinda way. You see those blue eyes? Ice cold...but I'd sure like to warm them up. He looks like a buffer, hotter Spike.”

“Spike?” Where the hell did his sister come up with this crap?

She rolled her eyes before she turned away to get back to her station. “You know, Spike? From Buffy? All hot and spiky blond.”

“So he’s Spike because of his hair?” He was so confused.

“No, it’s more because of a thing with railroad spikes and blood I think. Anyway, Saint is hot, but I would never get involved with an MC. We’re a crazy enough family without that.”

“Thank God,” he mumbled as he put the three grand Saint had left in the till. He’d paid way too much as usual, but Austin took it anyway. He’d tried to give some back last time and had almost wept at Saint’s look. He wasn’t less of a man to cry because of Saint.

“So, what’s on the rest of the schedule today? Saint came in early this morning so we have the rest of the late afternoon and evening, right?”

Austin nodded, fumbling with the computer yet again. “Yeah. I have another session this evening that should only take an hour. Saint’s ink took a long time this morning, and I don’t want to hurt my back by doing any more.”

“Good to hear it,” Callie said as she walked in with a spring in her step.

“What’s up with you?” Austin asked.

“I just saw the hottest man ever outside. He looked just like Spike!”

“No!” Austin and Maya yelled at the same time.

Callie’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. The action forced a laugh out of Austin. “Sorry, honey. Don’t look at Spike again, okay? He’s not for you.”

Callie raised a brow. “Really? Because he’s hot, and telling me I can’t have someone just makes me want him more. Or at least to try since, once I get to know someone, it’s all about what I want and not what others don’t want. Make sense?”

“No,” Austin said, rubbing his temples. Jesus, Callie was just alike Miranda with a little Meghan and Maya thrown in. Whoever had the luck of having Callie as their woman in the future had a lot to handle.

“Honey, don’t taunt Austin. Saint is bad news. He might be hot, but he scares even me. Okay?”

Callie shrugged. “That’s fine. I wasn’t really going to chase after him and beg for a ride…on his bike.” She snorted as Austin clenched his jaw. “I like a man in a suit more than leather anyway.”

“Really? You?” Maya asked, and Austin had to agree.

“Sure. They can have ink, piercings, and other fun and tasty things under the suit. But there’s nothing like a man in a suit to rev my engines.”

Austin closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. “Please stop talking about revving anything. And for the love of God, Maya, don’t encourage her. And don’t talk about riding. Please. I can’t take anymore. You two are killing me.”

“Aww, poor Austin can’t handle his little sister having sex,” Callie said, teasing.

“I swear I’m going to fire your ass, Callie.”

“I’d like to see you try. You can’t get on without me.” With that, she pranced off to the back, humming a tune Austin didn’t recognize.

“Why didn’t I get a nice apprentice who happens to have a dick and doesn’t bug the shit out of me?”

Maya grinned. “Because Callie fucking rocks at ink, and she needed your help.”

“True, but I don’t think I can take any more sex talk for the day.”

“So I guess I shouldn’t ask how you and Sierra are doing?”

Austin sighed then went to his station, pulling out his notepad. He still hadn’t finished Sierra’s sketch. She also hadn’t asked about it. Had she forgotten? Or maybe had second thoughts?

For some reason he felt like if he finished this sketch, then a part of what he and Sierra had would be over. It didn’t make any sense, but Austin couldn’t quite place what was wrong there. It sucked to think that the initial burst of heat and attraction would be over and, in its place, a comfort he’d never had would remain.

No, that wouldn’t be right. He still got hard and wanted to fuck her up against any wall or surface he could when he saw her. Maybe this was what a real serious relationship felt like. Something different, something comfortable.

It didn’t make any sense then that he was still so fucking twitchy.

“Uh, earth to Austin, you okay?”

Austin shook his head, clearing out the thoughts that wouldn’t go away at Maya’s words. “I’m good. Just thinking too much.”

Maya came up to him. “About what? I mentioned Sierra, and you got all serious. Is there something going on there you need to talk about? I might joke and tease with you, but you’re my big brother, and I love you. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

Austin set the unfinished sketch on his pad down and sighed. “I don’t know, Maya. I just have an odd feeling, I guess.”

She sat down on the bench next to his chair, her teeth nibbling at her lip. “You guys really work well together. I mean it’s like you guys fit, you know?”

He nodded, knowing she was right. “I know that. It’s just…”

“This all happened really fast?”

He let out a breath, glad that Maya got the situation and him. “I feel like one minute we’re sniping at each other over Shannon and the next minute Sierra’s living with me and my kid.”

“Insta-family.”

“Fuck. Yeah. I guess. It’s not that I don’t want this to happen. I just didn’t think that it would happen within two months of actually knowing her.”

“And having Leif show up out of the blue doesn’t help either.”

“I don’t know what to do with him,” he whispered.

Maya punched him in the shoulder. “You’re not thinking of trying to get rid of him or anything? Because if you do, I’ll not only kick your ass, I’ll take that kid from you so fast you won’t even have time to blink.”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant. There’s not another alternative. There’s never been one. I’m not letting him go. I just don’t know what to do with him now that he’s here.”

“Be his dad, Austin.”

He growled, throwing his sketchpad across the room. “I fucking know that. I know I’m his dad, not that he actually says the words. No, he barely talks to me. Sure, he’ll talk to Mom and Sierra, but me? Nothing. I tried to talk to him, and it even worked a bit when we talked about tattoos, but that’s it. He just mumbles and looks like he’s ready to bolt at any moment. I don’t know what to fucking do.”

Maya sighed as Callie came out of the back room. She bent over and picked up the sketchbook, holding it to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose him, but do I really have him? I feel like I’m just standing here and making a home for him so he’s safe, but I’m only the landlord. He doesn’t need me.”

“Oh, Austin, of course he needs you,” Callie said.

“Really? Because it sure doesn’t seem like it. He needs Sierra for sure, but he doesn’t need me.” As soon as he said it, he felt like an ass.

“You can’t be jealous of your girlfriend, honey,” Maya said softly. The fact that she spoke softly and didn’t hit him spoke volumes.

“God, I’m so fucking jealous, and I hate myself even more for it.”

“He had Maggie before,” Callie added in, still clutching the sketchbook. “He had a mom and not a dad. Yeah, it sucks that he didn’t have it before, but he’s not used to men in his life. At least as far as I can tell. And, honey, there are a lot of male Montgomerys in the world. You all are a bit overwhelming.”

“You need to talk to Sierra about this,” Maya added. “She’s not going to judge you, but if you keep it bottled up inside, you’re going to end up resenting her for being an awesome woman, who not only deals with your surly ass but opened her arms to a little boy she didn’t know without even blinking. Don’t just talk to me and Callie. Talk to your girlfriend. I know you love her.”

“Who said anything about love?” he bit out.

“Oh shut up,” Maya snapped. “You love her, and she loves you. Just because you might not have said the words to each other doesn’t make it any less true. Maybe if you actually said it, you’d get over whatever is blocking you from feeling settled with her.”

God, he loved Sierra. He loved her more than he ever thought he could love someone else, but it all happened so fast. He thought he’d be ready for the emotion and all it meant when it finally came to him, but he didn’t know it would feel like getting hit in the head with a two-by-four. He’d wanted to settle down and find a wife and have a baby. Now he had a girlfriend who felt like she was already a permanent part of his life and a ten-year-old who wanted nothing to do with him.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

“I don’t know what to do, girls,” he finally said after he sat there silently.

“Talk to her,” Callie said.

The door opened, and Austin looked up to see a pale Sierra walk in with Leif in front of her. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong then got a look at his son’s face.

“What the hell happened?” Austin roared. “How the fuck did he get a black eye?”

“Austin, please,” Sierra whispered, shaking her head.

Austin stormed over to the pair, only to freeze, and Leif shrunk into Sierra. It was like a punch in the gut, and he wanted to scream. He swallowed hard, forcing his fists to relax.

“What happened?” he asked, softer this time. He knelt before Leif and held out a hand. When Leif didn’t flinch, he took his son’s chin and tilted his head. “Ouch.”

“Tell him, honey,” Sierra whispered.

Leif shuffled his feet then sighed. “Some kid called me a bastard, so I hit him. I broke his nose, so his friend punched me in the eye.” He sniffed. “But the first kid bled a lot.”

Pride and anger warred within him. If it had been only the two of them, he’d have said good job for hitting a kid who called him names, but he knew that wasn’t the right reaction.

“Hell,” he whispered. “You get ice on that?” he asked, not knowing what else to day.

“I did in the nurse’s office.”

“Hey, buddy, let’s go get you an ice pack next door,” Maya said from behind him. He heard the edge to her voice, the one that spoke of punching people for hurting their blood, but he wasn’t sure if anyone else heard it.

“Okay,” Leif said then turned to hug Sierra before walking away.

He didn’t even bother telling Austin goodbye.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Austin stood, running a hand over his beard. “What the fuck, Sierra? Why didn’t I get a call?”

Sierra narrowed her eyes. “We tried. Your cell is off, and your work number keeps getting a busy signal. Don’t snap at me for being there when you couldn’t. That’s why we put my name and number on the emergency list.”

He cursed and looked down at his phone. “Fuck. It must have accidently turned off.”

“And someone knocked the phone off the cradle,” Callie said as she hung the work phone back up. “That really sucks.”

“No shit.” It wasn’t lost on him that he hadn’t said thank you or even kissed Sierra, but he couldn’t. The fact that Leif had been hurt and he hadn’t been available made him sick. What kind of father was he? Maybe the kid was right for choosing Sierra over him.

“If you’re done. I need to go back to work. I was at my accountant’s so that’s why I didn’t stop by here on my way over to the school if you were wondering. Oh, and your son has in-school suspension for two weeks, and you need to meet with the other boys’ families with the vice principal. I wrote it all down.” She took out a piece of paper from her purse and threw it at him. “I’m sorry you feel like I hid it from you but don’t yell at me for helping. Leif was scared, Austin, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Damn it. He felt like a heel. “Sierra…”

“No, don’t. I need to go back to work, and then I’m heading to my place tonight. I need a breather, and frankly, it’s been so long since I slept in my own bed I don’t know if it’s even still there.”

Panic hit him hard, and he took a step toward her. She held up a hand, stopping him. “Just one night, Austin,” she said, her voice shaky. “Tell Leif I will see him tomorrow.”

She walked away, and Austin staggered back.

“Go after her, you idiot,” Callie barked.

“I can’t. She’ll just turn me away. I’ll make it up to her in the morning. I know I’m an idiot. I’m not going to lose her.”

“You might have already done that,” Callie said sadly then walked away.

Austin thought the same but pushed that away. He wasn’t going to lose her, but he knew he’d fucked up.

Badly.

With that thought, he turned back to Hailey’s to go see the son that didn’t want him. He wasn’t giving up on either of them.

That didn’t mean it would be easy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SIERRA’S STOMACH LURCHED AGAIN, and she forced herself not to freak out. She hadn’t exactly walked out on Austin the day before, but it was close enough to the truth that her palms went damp at the thought. Work waited for her, and the strained smile on her face hadn’t gotten past Becky, though her customers didn’t seem to notice she was breaking inside.

That was something at least.

Just a few more hours of work and she could go home—which home, well, she hadn’t decided yet.

When she’d gotten the phone call from Leif’s school, she dropped everything, leaving her accountant with an understanding look on his face. Luckily, Sierra had almost been done with everything so she hadn’t missed out on much, but she’d still put Leif before her other responsibilities and dreams.

Or at least the money side of her dreams.

And she’d do it again too.

The fact that Leif meant so much to her so quickly made things worse for her and Austin. She knew that, but now she’d just have to deal. The look on that little boy’s face when she’d walked into the office would be forever cemented on her mind.

At first he’d looked so…disappointed. That hadn’t hurt her, not in the sense that she felt she wasn’t the one he’d wanted. Leif, despite the fact that he didn’t know how to communicate it, wanted his father to be there. Because of a set of circumstances that seemed to be out against them, Austin hadn’t been there.

Leif had only looked that way for a moment before the relief had clearly hit him. At least he was happy to see her. The black eye had jolted her, but she’d pushed through, demanding to know what had happened and what would be done with the other boys. Bullying was not to be tolerated. Violence was not to be tolerated.

Leif had learned a lesson, and she’d be damned if those other boys didn’t learn one as well. The school had been on her side, but they needed Austin as well. He’d be there for the next meeting; she was certain of it. No amount of dead phones and odd occurrences would keep him away from Leif.

From her, however? Well, that was another matter altogether.

The look in his eyes when she’d told him how she’d gone instead…

God, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get that out of her brain.

It wasn’t rational for him to be jealous of her for how Leif connected with her so quickly, but that didn’t make it any less of a valid response. She knew something was bothering him, yet she hadn’t been able to fix it.

Just as he’d been angry at her and the situation, she’d also been just as angry. So she lashed out and walked away, determined not to let Austin dig into her like he had before. He might have had second thoughts and regretted the way he treated her, but she was right in that she needed a night apart.

Damn it, though, it had been tough.

She hadn’t slept without him in a month, and his side of the bed had been so cold. Her apartment felt barren and small, empty without his presence. Empty without the heat and care that came from Austin being who he was.

Although she’d told him it was only for a night, she was afraid it might be more. They hadn’t parted on good terms, and she wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing her again. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she would react at seeing him again.

They’d fought before, sure. Both of them were strongly opinionated, and it was only a matter of time before they clashed, but this one…this one was big. This wasn’t something that could be brushed under the rug and forgotten. In fact, she wasn’t even sure how to talk about it. Throwing a secret love child into a situation would never end up on an easy road. The rough and tumble paths to find a way to live with Leif and find out how Austin and Sierra could have a future seemed almost overwhelming to her.

They’d taken Leif in without a second thought, and now they were going to have to learn to find a way to cope with it. Letting the state have him had never been an option to Austin, and it sure hadn’t been to her, but having him blend into Austin’s family at the same time Sierra was trying to find a way to do the same wasn’t making things easy.

She and Austin needed to talk.

Well, that was the understatement of the year right there.

“Miss? Miss? Does this come in purple?”

Sierra blinked then shook her head, trying to clear it. Her customer took the movement as a no to the question and pinched her lips.

“Well, if you don’t have the color I desire, I guess I will go to another store. You have every other color here but the one I want.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, yes, we have purple in the back I believe. Someone must have bought the other one I had laid out this morning.”

“Then why did you shake your head?” the woman demanded. Sierra’s temple started to pulse loudly.

“I was clearing my thoughts, I’m sorry. Let me go get that for you.”

“She tells me you’re the owner,” the customer said, pointing over at Becky. “If you’re going to sit and daydream all day, I think you might need another job.”

Apparently this woman had no problem in voicing her opinions and kicking her while she was down.

“I’m so sorry. Let me get that scarf for you. I will be right back.”

The woman pursed her lips even harder. “Do so. Then we’ll see if I even want it. I have important things to do today, dear, so be quick about it.”

Dear Lord, that woman reminded her of Marsha in so many ways it was a bit jarring. Sierra had never been good enough, pretty enough, fast enough, and classy enough for Marsha’s precious, precious baby boy.

Now Sierra couldn’t be punished enough for it.

Wow. Where had that come from? She’d done her best not to think about her ex’s parents too hard, knowing there was nothing she could do about them until the next step was taken legally. However, they were always in the back of her mind, haunting her like the ghost of their son. If experience told her anything, it was to get that woman what she wanted and send her on her way as quickly as possible. It was impossible to please everyone, and pursed lips would never unclench unless people went a bit crazy.

Sierra quickly got the scarf and gave it to the woman, who sniffed then made her way to Becky, purchase in hand. Apparently she wanted the scarf more than she wanted to belittle the owner. Well, that was good for her bank account anyway.

As soon as the woman left, Becky hurried to Sierra’s side. “Dear God, that woman was something.”

Sierra shook her head, making sure no one was in the shop. They were in a lull since it was right before they were closing, but they could never be too careful.

“Something is a decent word for it,” she said finally as she went behind the counter to start the closing-out process.

“I would have said something worse, but I was afraid she’d be able to hear me through the glass across the street. You never know with those types.”

Sierra nodded, her mind on the task in front of her so she wouldn’t have to think too hard on what her next step was that night: Austin or being alone.

Walking out and not calling for a day wasn’t the most mature response, she knew that, but it had been the only thing she could do then. The look on Austin’s face when he’d heard the whole story was enough to break her all over again. She didn’t want to see it again. Having him apologize and say he would do better wouldn’t be enough. Things would have to change, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been trying to make things better in the first place. It was just a hard and awkward situation that needed time to settle. However, that didn’t mean Sierra wanted to be the emotional punching bag when things went wrong.

That would have to change.

She was already the outlet for pain, grief, and rage for Marsha and Todd. She couldn’t be for Austin when he had issues communicating with his son.

“Hey, what’s wrong, honey?” Becky asked as she switched the sign to closed.

“Nothing, I’m just a bit tired.”

“Well, yeah, you opened today and refused to leave. So go now. I can finish up closing the store and doing everything that needs to be done. You should have left hours ago, but you seemed to need to stay busy.”

To her horror, tears fill her eyes, and Sierra blinked quickly.

“Honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying, but if you don’t want to talk about it yet, I understand. Just know I’m here for you. Go see Hailey if you need to talk to someone and I’m not the right one. I would have said Austin, but from that look on your face and the fact that you didn’t do lunch with him today, he might be the center of whatever issues you have going on.”

Sierra wiped her eyes and nodded. “Thanks, Becky. I’ll go home and get some rest. I think I’m just tired.”

“I can handle Eden, Sierra. It’s what you pay me to do. I won’t let your baby fall to ruin. I might throw a large rave here tonight, but that’s another story altogether.”

She laughed, just as Becky must have intended, and then went to get her purse. She’d been on her feet for over twelve hours, and she could feel it in every step now that she let herself feel in the first place.

“Good night, love,” Becky called, and Sierra waved, making her way to her car behind Montgomery Ink. She refused to look inside just in case Austin was there. Or Maya. Or Sloane. Or Callie. Anyone that had seen her walk out of the shop the day before or could know about it.

By the time she got to her car and started up the highway, she knew what she needed to do. Austin’s home was farther away, but it was where she needed to be. The night before she hadn’t been able to sleep without his presence, and she didn’t want to do that again. Running away from her problems was not the answer, and she would face them with her chin held high, darn it.

She pulled into Austin’s driveway and got out of the car, her hands shaking. Austin had given her a key as soon as Leif moved in, the significance of that action paling in comparison to her taking care of his son.

She set her purse down on the bookshelf that stood in the foyer and took a deep breath. No one was home, the silence of the house deafening. Nothing had changed since she’d been there last. In fact, it was as if she’d never left, but something was…off. She didn’t feel like she quite fit in anymore. Leif’s shoes were by the fireplace, haphazardly thrown off and near a pile of books he must have been reading. Austin’s leather bracelet that he switched out for his metal one every once in a while was on the coffee table next to his tablet, sketchpad, and pencils. There were dirty breakfast dishes in the kitchen sink and crumbs on the counter.

That morning had been the first one where Austin had to get Leif ready for school on his own. She hated herself for not being there to see Leif off the day after he’d gotten in a fight. With all her own personal issues, she’d let him down. She knew that. She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye to him because if she’d waited around long enough to do so, she wouldn’t have been able to leave his father even for the night.

She was weak, and she knew it.

“Sierra?”

She turned on her heel, her hand going over her racing heart. “Austin,” she gasped.

He stood in the foyer by the door to the garage, his keys in his hand, his eyes full of pain. After staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “Hey, Legs,” he said, his voice falsely calm, “I was just coming home to grab a bag and head to your place.”

She licked her lips. “My place?”

Austin set his keys on the shelf then took two powerful steps toward her. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so she met his eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Sierra. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He might look sexy with that beard of his and the intensity in his eyes, but she couldn’t walk away from what had happened. Not fully. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“I can’t believe I got jealous of you and Leif. Because that’s what it was. It was petty jealousy because my son would rather go to you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t see his face when I walked in, Austin. He wanted you there. He doesn’t pick me over you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you he wants you. Just like you don’t know how to do the same to him.”

He looked like he’d been struck at her words, but he nodded. “I…I don’t know what to do, but I do know that I want you by my side when I do it.”

Her heart lurched.

“You’re mine. You get that? I was an asshole and scared about Leif, and I fucked us up. You had every right to leave me in the shop alone with my own troubles yesterday, but sleeping without you last night? Baby, that was horrible. I don’t want to do that again. You get me?”

“I get you,” she whispered. “But that’s not the end of it. Do you get me?”

Austin sighed, moving close to rest his lips on her forehead. “I know. I know, baby.”

Something inside her relaxed, and she leaned into his touch. They might not have fixed everything, nor had they said everything they needed to say, but she was in his arms, and that was a step forward.

“Where’s Leif?” she asked after they stood there a few minutes in silence.

“At Meghan’s. He wanted to stay with his cousins…and I wanted to be with you. To talk with you. To just be.”

She pulled back slightly so she could look into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I…I just need you.”

She couldn’t say her true feelings out loud, not right then. Not when she might have trusted him with her body, but her heart was fearful of what was going on inside his head.

He collared her throat, and she sucked in a breath, her body shaking in anticipation. “I want you in my bed, but tonight isn’t about sex. It’s about you and me talking and just being ourselves.”

She nodded, even though the disappointment of not having him inside her crashed into her. She wanted to hear his voice, feel his beard on her neck as he hugged her hard. He held her then, picking her up and cradling her to his chest. They laid in bed fully dressed, their legs entwined as they spoke of their days, starting with the small things and just listening to one another.

The major decisions would come and the challenges of being with a man who had a son he’d never met before would find their paths. Right then, though, her worries were voiced, and she could breathe again. It wouldn’t be easy, but she had Austin’s voice, his touch, and his body.

She just needed his heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SHEA PACED Griffin’s living room, running her hands through her hair as she did so. They were leaving Denver in three days to head back home, and yet she didn’t feel like she was ready. In fact, she felt like everything had taken a turn for the worse in her heart, rather than the actual reason they had come north in the first place.

Shep’s uncle was doing okay, but not great and nowhere near out of the woods yet, but alive and breathing. That counted for something when cancer was involved. She’d met Shep’s family and friends and had been welcomed with open arms.

If anything, that made what was going on within her even worse.

She had a clear example now of what a family was supposed to be rather than the farce she’d lived with. Her mother had attacked and emotionally abused her for her entire life while her father had cheated on his family and had ignored Shea since she was a baby.

Baby.

Damn it. She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about what was going on within her while there were more important things. She was being stupid and silly, and yet she couldn’t stop it. Shep was pulling away day by day because she wasn’t telling him what was going on inside her head and body, yet she couldn’t find the courage to actually tell him.

Maybe once they got back to New Orleans, everything would be okay and she’d be back to normal. That had to be the answer because, right then, she couldn’t think about what was going on. She couldn’t make decisions, and that was so unlike her. She’d spent her life doing what was expected her and following the path that others laid for her before she ventured out on her own. First with her job, then with leaving her ex—the same man her mother had chosen for her. Then Shea wanted a tattoo and found Shep.

Her happily ever after was supposed to be all roses and rainbows now.

Not pain, heartache, and nervousness.

“Shea?”

She turned on her heel quickly, almost falling in her haste. Shep put out a hand and held her steady, that ever-present worry in his gaze.

“You startled me.” And she couldn’t bear to look at him and keep this secret any longer.

“I can see that. Tell me what’s wrong, Shea. You’re killing me here. What did I do wrong? How can I fix it? I love you so fucking much, and you’re pulling away from me. Please. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Oh God, she was doing this all wrong. She was ruining something perfect because she was scared. Scared that she’d ruin it all.

“I…I…”

He cupped her face, kissing her softly. She leaned into him, letting his taste settle on her tongue. He anchored her. He was her first love, her only love, and she needed to be honest and open. She shouldn’t be afraid of him; she wasn’t.

No, she was afraid of herself.

“Tell me, Shea.”

“We’re having a baby,” she blurted out, her body shaking. The relief that should have come from telling him what she’d kept secret for far too long never came. Instead, she wanted to throw up, and she didn’t think that came from morning sickness.

Shep opened his mouth two or three times like a fish out of water then grinned. “A baby?” He picked her up, twirling her around the room. She clung to his shoulders, wanting to run away rather than search inside herself.

“We’re having a baby! Oh god, Shea. I’m so fucking happy about this. All this time you were worried we were having a baby? That’s it?” His eyes widened. “Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the doctor? Let me get my keys.” He set her down like she was fine china then patted his chest and pockets looking for his keys. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down? Do you want water? Or how about crackers? How are you feeling?”

The way he acted should have been cute. Instead, she could hear only her mother in her head. Her mother who had told her that she’d never amount to anything. Who had belittled her for her entire life, making her want to run away or find another more permanent end to the way things had been.

Shep had saved her life right then, and she couldn’t think of how to stop the pattern.

To stop the torment that had plagued her for decades.

Shep cupped her face again, and she blinked back tears. “What’s wrong, Shea? You’re not speaking, and you look scared. You’re pale, baby. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

She hiccupped a sob then pulled away. “You can’t fix it, Shep. I’m having a child. A baby.”

Shep frowned. “I know, Shea. You just said it.” His face went carefully blank. “Do you not want this child?”

The idea of not having this baby made her body turn to ice. The implication of his words forced her to say what she was thinking, rather than going around it.

“I…I want this baby. I’ve always wanted our baby, Shep. But…but you don’t understand.”

“I won’t understand until you tell me, Shea. I don’t know why you hid it from me, why you were so scared to tell me.”

“If I told you, then it would be real,” she whispered.

“And what is so wrong with it being real? We love each other, and we had said we wanted children.”

She remembered them talking, but when they’d brought it up, it had seemed like a dream. Now it was a reality. A reality she wasn’t prepared for. She didn’t have the life experiences needed to be a good mother. She saw the way Shep’s cousin Meghan cared for her babies, how Marie cared for her grown children.

Shea had never had that before.

How was she sure she wouldn’t end up like her mother?

“We did this so fast, Shep.”

Her husband’s face set to stone. “Yes. We did. We both decided to marry quickly without a wedding. We both decided to have me go bare within you and deal with what happened if the Pill alone didn’t work. Now tell me why you’re so scared because you need to be clear.”

“I don’t want to turn into my mother.”

Shep’s face softened, and he took a step toward her. She pulled back, but he didn’t let her stay away. Instead, he tugged her close, crushing her to his chest. He cupped her face, kissing her hard.

“You silly, thoughtful woman. I fucking love you.”

Irritation warred with anger in her veins. “Don’t call my fears silly, Shep. You don’t understand. You have this perfect family. What do I have?”

“Me.”

Her heart thudded, and she sighed. “Shep…”

“No. You’ll listen to me now. You’re scared you’ll end up like you’re mother? Bullshit. You stood up for yourself long before I came along and grew a backbone. You’ve seen what damage your mother did and know that’s not how to raise a family. Fuck, you have my family to show you how to do it. Not saying we’re perfect because God knows we’re crazy assholes some days, but we aren’t cruel. You are going to be a wonderful mother.”

Tears poured down her cheeks, and she sank into him. She might know his words were right in her mind, but her heart was another matter.

“You have me by your side. I’m not going to turn into your father. I’m going to be by your side every step of the way. I’m going to watch you grow round with our child then change diapers and help our baby take his or her first steps. I’m going to let our child know that, no matter their choices, we will be by their side. They don’t need to conform to our expectations but, rather, find out who they are on their own. Now kiss me, Shea. Kiss me then tell me you love me.”

She kissed him softly, her eyes closed as her body finally relaxed. “I love you,” she whispered. “I’m an idiot.”

“Well, yes, but you’re adorable when you’re an idiot.”

She punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “Patronizing much?”

“You love me. Now, I know we’re in the middle of something else right now travel- and life-wise, but I need to tell you I’m so fucking happy we’re having this kid. If she’s a girl, we might need to lock her away from all boys until she’s sixty, but that’s just because I know boys. If he’s a boy, well, we might need to lock him up as well since I know my brothers.”

She snorted, hugging him around his middle. She’d kept the idea of the baby from him for a month because she’d been scared about her own reaction, not his. That had been selfish and horrible, but she couldn’t go back and fix it.

She had another seven months to prove to him that she could do this. Prove to herself. With Shep by her side, she could do it. There was no other option.

“You’re thinking hard again,” he said as he rubbed her back, his hand dipping lower until she gasped into him.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“I’m sorry you felt you needed to deal with everything on your own. But that’s not the important thing anymore.”

“What is then?” she asked on a gasp as he kissed the side of her neck.

“The important thing is we’re going to have a baby…and Griffin won’t be home for hours.”

She rocked into him, closing her eyes, and he cupped her face with his magic hands. “Whatever shall we do?”

Shep pulled back, grinning. “Oh, I think we can come up with something.”

Shea stood on her tiptoes and kissed his chin. “Show me.”

“Always, Shea. Always.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“IF YOU KEEP STARING at the nail rather than pounding it in, you’ll be here for hours, man,” Austin said from Decker’s side, chuckling under his breath.

Decker growled then cursed as he slammed his thumb with the damn hammer. “Seriously, dude? You’re going to distract me while I’m fixing the freaking hole in your wall?”

“You talk to me while I’m doing a tattoo, so I don’t know what your problem is,” Austin said casually as he meandered back to his stool. Griffin sat in the chair, a grin on his face.

“Let’s keep the distracting of Austin on the low side, shall we?” Griffin teased. “He does have a needle in my skin after all.”

“You wouldn’t have this problem if I was doing it,” Maya said as she walked toward them.

Decker laughed at the familiar complaint. Maya and Austin were proprietary when it came to the Montgomery family ink. Come to think of it, they acted the same way about his ink as well.

Kind of nice.

“You have one side, Maya,” Griffin said, his voice calm even as Austin worked on his sleeve, doing the shading that sometimes hurt like a bitch. “Austin gets the other. Stop complaining that it’s his turn.”

Maya rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “Shut up.”

“You first.”

Ah, siblings. He was an only child and thankful for it. Though he’d been raised with the Montgomerys off and on during his childhood, when he went back to his birthplace, he was alone.

That was the way it had always been, and now that he was older, that was the way it would be. He wasn’t a Montgomery, and no amount of ink or wishing would make that true.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head before he got back to work. He needed to keep his mind on task instead of thinking about what was coming, what would never change. The churning in his gut didn’t make it easy, but he’d deal with it.

He had to.

Decker went back to work, trying to finish up so he could get back to his place and just be alone. He had come back to Denver, but he honestly didn’t know if he could handle all the Montgomerys all at once again.

The door opened, and he sighed. Hopefully it would be a customer, rather than another Montgomery. He didn’t know if he could deal with more family right then.

“Hey, family,” Miranda Montgomery said as she walked in. He turned quickly, caught by her smile and the way she winked at her brother.

Decker froze, his body tight like a spring, and he held back a curse. His dick pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and he wanted to run the fuck away.

He couldn’t get a hard-on for Griffin’s little sister.

No fucking way.

She was Miranda. Little Miranda who used to chase him around the backyard.

She wasn’t supposed to get his dick hard.

The object of his arousal and mortification turned to him and smiled. His dick perked up even more.

Traitor.

“Hey you. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He blinked then cleared his throat. “I’m not. Here I mean.”

Brilliant, Decker. Fucking brilliant.

She snorted as the rest of her family laughed. “Um, Decker, honey. You’re here.”

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Or at least trying to. “I just meant I’m leaving.”

Austin stood up and frowned. “You’re not done yet. What’s up, Deck?”

Decker quickly gathered up his things. “I’ll come back tomorrow and finish up. It needs to dry, and I didn’t bring the last of the tools I need.”

Austin’s look told him he clearly didn’t believe him, but Decker needed to get out of there. Fast.

“Okay, whatever. Thanks for coming and doing at least half of it.”

Decker nodded then took his tools and ran, lifting his chin at the others as he scurried out the door, his toolbox in front of his crotch. The last thing he needed was for Miranda’s big brothers to see his hard-on. He’d seen the look of surprise on Miranda’s face as he left, and he didn’t want to think about it.

Fuck. She was his best friend’s little sister.

So off limits.

He just needed to get laid. As he put his things in the truck, he got out his phone. When the person on the other line picked up, he tensed, trying to clear his thoughts of the Montgomery he shouldn’t want and could never have.

“Colleen, hey, you free tonight?”

Colleen was safe. Pretty. And not Miranda Montgomery.

The perfect combination.

SIERRA LOCKED up Eden and made her way to her car. It had been a long day of customers who hadn’t known what they wanted, blaming her and the girls for it. During that time, the customers from hell made their opinions known. Often.

All she really wanted to do was to go home—Austin’s place—and relax. She didn’t know when she’d begun to think of Austin’s place as home, rather than her small apartment in Edgewater, but she’d take it. Things were going well for them. Really well. She and Austin talked and worked with Leif together. They were happy, and she was ready to actually tell him her feelings.

She loved him more than anything, and she wanted a future.

A future she never thought she’d have again.

There was that tingling in the back of her mind that told her that her ex’s parents would still be there, but she wouldn’t be alone in facing them this time.

Her phone rang as she started on the highway, and she answered using her car’s Bluetooth. “Hello?”

“Sierra, it’s Rodney.”

Speak of the devil.

Her hands clenched the steering wheel, and she swallowed hard. “Hi, Rodney. What’s going on?” She took the next exit and pulled off to the side of the road. There was a field around her since she’d gone north to Austin’s place, but it was safer than being at the wheel right then.

“They threw out the case, Sierra. It’s over. For real this time. Marsha and Todd don’t have a leg to stand on.”

Sierra blinked, and she turned off the car but kept the battery on so her phone would still work. “What?” She couldn’t believe it. She must have misheard.

“Sierra. It’s over. The case was thrown out with prejudice, and this was their last chance. They can’t come at you again. You’re free to live your life the way you want to without having to look over your shoulder.

“Seriously?” she asked, her words raspy. After all these years, it was over?

“Seriously. Go home to Austin and celebrate. You won’t have this shadow over you anymore.”

Tears streaked her cheeks, and she bowed her head. “Thank you, thank you so much. God.”

“You’re welcome, Sierra. Live your life.”

After saying goodbye, he hung up, and she sat there, her body shaking.

She was free. Jason’s parents couldn’t hurt her anymore. She could love Austin freely and not worry about lawsuits and the past that wouldn’t take its claws out of her.

She was free.

Headlights blinded her from the driver’s side, and she turned, only to see a car coming right at her. She held up her hands, her mouth opened in a scream before the sound of crushing metal filled her ears. The darkness came over her as she thought of Austin one last time.

AUSTIN RAN his hands through his hair and sighed. “I hate math sometimes,” he mumbled, and Leif snickered at his side. “Don’t laugh. This is your homework after all.”

“Math sucks,” his son agreed.

He winced. Sierra wouldn’t like him teaching Leif to hate subjects in school. The fact that he thought of Sierra in a parenting position again scared him a bit, but he was working on it. Hell, the fact that he was a parent scared him.

“Math doesn’t suck. It’s just not the most entertaining thing most times.”

Leif raised a brow in a gesture so like Austin’s that he blinked. Damn, Leif looked just like what Austin had always pictured his son might look like. The DNA test might have been needed for the courts, but none of the Montgomerys had thought twice about accepting him into their fold.

He looked just like a Montgomery.

“Sure, Austin. Whatever you say.”

Austin held back the hurt at Leif still calling him Austin rather than Dad, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. They hadn’t known each other that long after all.

His phone rang, and he picked up, seeing an unknown number on the readout. “Hello?”

“Austin Montgomery?”

A chill ran down his spine, and he gripped the table. “Yes? This is Austin Montgomery.”

“This is Denver Medical. We have a Sierra Elder here.”

The floor fell out from under him, and he sank back into his chair. He felt small hands on his arm and looked over to see Leif standing, his eyes wide.

“What happened? Is she okay? Where are you located? I’m coming there.”

“Mr. Montgomery, take a breath. I can’t tell you her condition or the circumstances over the phone as you aren’t family, but she requested we call you so you can come here.” She rattled off the location, and Austin wrote it down on the top of Leif’s homework, the only piece of paper near him.

“I’m coming. Tell her…” I love her. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and stood on shaky legs.

“What’s going on?” Leif asked, his eyes filling with tears.

Shit. What was he going to do about the kid? Could he call his family and have them watch him?

“Sierra’s in the hospital.” There. He was honest.

Leif’s lower lip wobbled. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me. I’m heading there now to see her.” He picked up his phone. “I’ll call Meghan to come and pick you up or I’ll drop you off.”

“No. I want to see Sierra too. Don’t leave me.”

Austin sucked in a breath then awkwardly patted Leif’s shoulder. “Okay then. We’ll go.” There was no way he could deal with even hands-free calling with Leif in the back seat. He was too shaky as it was. “Grab what you need and let’s go.”

Leif scrambled off the chair and ran to the back of the house while Austin ran a hand over his hair. The doctor or nurse or whatever had refused to tell him what was going on. He got the legalities of that, but shit, couldn’t they have given him a clue?

Austin grabbed his wallet and phone, texting Wes quickly and telling him to meet him with the family at the hospital. It seemed like a better deal than calling and having to talk to people. He ended the text with “don’t call” since he would be driving.

Wes texted back right away saying he’d be there with the crew.

That was the Montgomerys. There, no matter what.

Leif ran back out with a Kindle in his hands and his shoes on his feet.

“What’s with the Kindle?” Austin asked as he went into the garage, Leif on his trail.

“It’s Sierra’s. She was reading it and left it here last night.”

Austin swallowed hard, nodding. That kid loved Sierra so much; that much was clear. God, she had to be okay. She had to.

He drove as fast as he could without endangering his precious cargo and made it to the hospital, parking in the lot and running toward the emergency room, gripping Leif’s hand so he wouldn’t lose him. Jesus, his life had changed so much since Sierra had first walked into the shop. He couldn’t lose it all in one fell swoop.

When he got to the front desk, he was shaking alongside Leif. “I’m looking for Sierra Elder.”

The woman nodded then raised a brow. “Are you family?”

“She’s my family,” he said instantly. It was true, just not legal. “I’m Austin Montgomery. You guys called me.”

She nodded again then started clicking on the computer. “You’re clear to come in.” She looked down at Leif. “I’m afraid he isn’t.”

He knew the woman was just doing her job, but holy hell, he wanted to push past her. “This is my son. He’s coming with me. Tell me where Sierra is.”

“Don’t get a nasty tone with me, young man. I’m only following the law.”

“Judy, I can handle this,” a man in a white coat said as he walked toward them. Judy huffed then went back to her computer.

“Where’s Sierra?”

“I’m Dr. Michaels, Sierra’s doctor.” He held out a hand, and Austin impatiently shook it. “Sierra gave us permission to tell you her condition in person, and since he is your son, you’re both welcome to come on back.”

Austin glared at Judy then walked beside Dr. Michaels. Leif gripped his hand hard, and he pulled him closer.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She was involved in a hit and run accident. The other car hit the driver’s side, but in the back rather than the front. The impact jarred her, and she had a few cuts and bruises and a mild concussion. However, since she wasn’t moving, and the other car wasn’t going that fast, the airbags were enough to keep her from serious harm.”

Austin froze, clenching his free fist. “But she’s going to be okay?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes. She’s very lucky.”

“And you said it was a hit and run? Did they find the bastard that did this?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was a woman. Apparently, she is the mother of Sierra’s late fiancé. That’s all I know, but you’ll be able to talk to Sierra right away. She’s a little tired, but other than that, she should be fine.”

Fuck. Marsha had done this? And just where was Todd? Holy fuck, that family was insane.

“She’s right in there, Mr. Montgomery.”

Austin nodded absently as Dr. Michaels walked away.

“She’s really okay?” Leif asked, his voice small.

Austin took a deep breath then looked down at his son.

“That’s what the doctor says. Let’s go see.” His entire world was on his arm and in that room. He knew that. It was like a shock to the system. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. God, he loved her so fucking much, and it scared him. He wasn’t supposed to love someone this much. He didn’t know if he could bear to lose her. He had his mind on his son and his father, two major life changes recently, and now he had the love of his life in a hospital bed.

It was just too goddamn much.

He took a step into the room and froze. Sierra lay on the bed, her hair tangled around her. Her eyes were open but turned the other way. She had cuts and bruises on her face and arms and he was sure in other places that were hidden by the hospital gown.

“Sierra,” Leif said through tears then ran to her side. He stopped right at the edge of the bed, his hand out but not moving closer, as if afraid to touch her.

She turned toward him, a small smile on her face. “Hey, big guy.”

“Are you okay?” Leif asked softly.

“Yeah, just a little banged up. I get to go home tomorrow. Don’t be scared, okay, honey?”

Leif cried then, lowering his head to the side of her bed. “Okay,” he whispered through tears.

Austin choked back his own tears. He hadn’t moved from his spot near the door, not knowing if he could walk closer. The love of his life was helpless in that bed, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened if the car had been moving faster or if it had hit her at another angle.

He’d almost lost one of the most precious things in the world, and he hadn’t been there.

What kind of man was he?

Sierra ran a hand over Leif’s back, murmuring to him. She met Austin’s gaze, and what he found there scared him.

There wasn’t love in those eyes.

No, they were blank.

Nothing.

“Austin.”

He turned on his heel to see Maya and Jake in the doorway, Maya’s eyes wide. “I’m here. It took sneaking in, but we’re here.” Her gaze moved to Sierra. “Hey you. How are you?”

Sierra looked stricken, and he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m fine,” the love of his life croaked. “Do you think you can take Leif out of the room for a moment? I need to talk to Austin.”

Maya gave him a look then took a sniffling Leif toward the door. Before he walked away completely, he ran a hand over his son’s hair then sighed as he was left alone in the room with Sierra.

“Baby, I’m so sorry this happened.”

Sierra raised her chin, tears filling her eyes. “Me too. Marsha can’t hurt me anymore though.”

“That’s not the point. You almost died, and I wasn’t there.”

“No, you weren’t. But you weren’t supposed to be.”

Something slashed across his heart, and he moved toward her, needing her touch.

She held out a hand. “You and Leif could have easily been in that car. My past could have killed you. I can’t let that happen. Marsha might be in jail, but Todd is still out there. I can’t put you in danger. It’s all too much, and I can’t do this anymore. I shouldn't have taken a chance because it hurts. It hurts so much, Austin. Just get out. Please. Just please go. I don't know what to do and having you here...it messes me up. I love you, Austin, but I can't do it.”

The first time she said she loved him and she was pushing him away. Pushing him away, and yet he wasn’t fighting back.

Why wasn’t he fighting back?

“Sierra…”

“Go, Austin. Please.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Yes. Yes you are. We aren’t a good fit, and you know it. You need to be with your father and son, and I can’t deal with it all. It’s not safe, and it’s not enough. Just leave me alone.”

He nodded then turned away, leaving her broken and bruised in her room. Why wasn’t he staying? Why wasn’t he saying anything? He knew he’d fallen for her too hard, too fast, but fuck, why was he leaving?

He was a fucking coward, but he was letting her push him away. He made his way toward the waiting room where Maya and Jake sat with Leif. His sister raised a brow, and he shook his head. He couldn’t deal with the questions right then. His world was falling down around him, and he let it. He needed to take a step back and think. He couldn’t do that with people crowding him.

“We’re heading home. Sierra needs rest.” The words were hollow, and the questions in Maya’s eyes made him want to scream.

“Why can’t we stay?” Leif asked.

“Because we need to go,” Austin said as he ran a hand over his face.

“Can we come tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so, buddy.”

Maya gasped, and Austin held back a curse.

“Why not?”

“We just need to go, okay?” He would have raised his voice, but he couldn’t come up with the energy.

“Austin,” Maya whispered.

“Not now, okay?”

He took Leif’s hand and left his woman in the hospital. She’d begged him, but he hadn’t fought hard enough.

Why?

That’s all Austin could say.

Why?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AUSTIN NEEDED A DRINK. It had been less than two days since he’d made the biggest mistake of his life and walked out of Sierra’s hospital room. She’d told him to go, and he’d listened. Since when did he do exactly what she told him to?

It was the other way. At least in the bedroom. He was her Dominant. Her support. And yet he’d failed her. Holy fuck how he’d failed her.

He’d let her set the rules and hadn’t taken care of her like he should have. What kind of man did that make him?

She’d been scared. Terrified. Just as he was. And he’d walked away. There was no amount of groveling that could make up for that, but he had to find a way.

“Dad?”

Austin froze then turned around to see Leif standing behind him, a frown on his face. He wanted to jump up and throw his arms around his son at the sound of Dad from the little boy’s lips, but he refrained. He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it; he’d let Leif think this was normal and okay, rather than shouting to the rooftops like he wanted to.

“Yeah, Leif?”

“When are we going to go get Sierra?”

Austin crouched down so he was at Leif’s eye level. “You want me to get Sierra?”

Leif rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. She’s our family. I know my mom isn’t coming back, but you’re my dad. You’re family. And since you both love each other, you should be together. I don’t know if I’ll ever call her mom, but she takes care of me. You know? She loves me, and I love her. I don’t want her to leave. I want to make sure she’s okay. Can you do that? Can you make sure she knows she can come home? Just fix it. Okay?”

Out of the mouth of babes.

Austin cupped his son’s head. “I’ll bring her home, Leif. Do you want her to stay here forever? Is that what you have in mind?” He and Leif were a unit now. He couldn’t make a decision that big without him.

“Just marry her, already. Okay? I like her a lot. She’s pretty, and she smells nice.”

“That’s true.” Marriage? Yeah. He was ready for that. He’d been ready but hadn’t been able to think past his own worries to actually see it. “I just hope she takes me back.”

Leif put his hand on Austin’s beard. “She will. She loves you. Old people are just scared sometimes about saying it. It’s okay. I’ll help.”

Austin let the old people comment pass and swallowed hard. “I love you, Leif. You’re my son, and I’m so happy you’re in my life.”

Leif smiled. “I love you too, Dad. Now go get Sierra.”

Austin crushed Leif to him, inhaling that little boy scent. Only he wasn’t so little anymore. “I’ll drop you off at Maya’s. She and Jake are having an Xbox tournament.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m packed already.” He blushed, and Austin raised a brow. “Aunt Maya is ready for me. She said some curse words about you getting your butt in gear.”

He chuckled then messed up Leif’s hair. “Your Aunt Maya needs to watch her language around you.”

“That’s what she said about you.”

“True. Okay, let’s get going.”

“So you can bring Sierra back.”

“I hope.”

BY THE TIME he left Leif at Maya’s house, darkness had settled over the mountains, and he sat in his car in front of Sierra’s apartment. He never should have let her get her way. He should have fought harder.

Fuck. He didn’t know what to say, but staying out in his car while people walking by stared at him wasn’t the way to go about it. He got out of his car, made his way to her door, and knocked softly. He heard her shuffle to the door, and then she opened it.

She stood there, her hair in a ponytail, her eyes full of sadness. Bruises marred her arms and legs, and he sucked in a breath.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry you’re hurt.”

Sierra took a step back, and he walked in. She closed the door behind him, and he put his hands in his pockets. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go. Right then he didn’t think that was the best thing for either of them. They needed to talk first.

“Why are you here, Austin?” Sierra asked, her voice weary.

“I love you, Sierra. I love you more than my next breath. I need you in my life. I never should have let you push me away. I was so fucking scared that you got hurt, and then I was more worried about how my own life was changing rather than dealing with what was in front of me. I never should have left. You’re my everything. I want you in my life, Sierra. I want you to grow old with me. Help me raise Leif. I want to marry you and have you take my name. I want to have babies with you and watch them grow up. I want to see you in my family and have you by my side as we deal with my father’s illness. You are my future, and I should have seen that clearer. Don’t leave me. Don’t let me leave. Don’t force me out. I love you. Please. Please let me stay.”

Sierra’s cheeks were wet with tears even as she shook her head. His body felt like he’d been slammed into a wall, and he took two steps toward her. He cupped her face, brushing her lips with his own.

“I love you Sierra. Whatever happens with Todd in the future will happen with me by your side. You don’t need to fear for me. You don’t need to fear for Leif. We’re not letting you go.”

Sierra hiccupped a sob. “They found Todd. He’d killed himself, Austin. It’s over.”

Stunned, Austin blinked. “You’re safe?”

She nodded, sobbing into him. “Safe, but not whole. I shouldn’t have pushed you away, but I was so scared.”

“I was scared too. So scared, I let you push me away. We don’t get to do that again, Sierra. We’re in it for the rest of our lives. I want you to marry me. I want you in my life, and I want you to be mine in the bedroom. I want you to trust me with your heart, your body, and your soul. I never want to ask you again to kneel for me because I want you to do it on your own. I want you to trust me with every fiber of your being to care for you and nurture what we have until it grows into what I know it promises to be.”

“Oh, Austin.”

“Marry me, Sierra.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He crushed his mouth to hers, knowing this was the first taste of their forever. His hand went to her hair, and she winced.

“Fuck. You’re too hurt for what I want to do to you, baby.” He narrowed his eyes. “I want to kill them for hurting you, Legs.”

She cupped his face, and he leaned into her touch. “It’s over, Austin. And while tonight we might not be able to go fully into some things, we can make love. We can do it softly.”

His cock pressed against her belly, and he groaned. “Softly,” he whispered.

She led him to the bedroom, and he slowly stripped her down, kissing each bruise and cut as he did so. He sucked her nipples, letting the peaks harden on his tongue, before kissing down her belly to her cunt. When he laid her down on the bed, she tangled her fingers in his hair so he could taste her.

Her sweet taste burst on his tongue as he licked her pussy, lapping up her juices. She moaned, rocking herself onto his face.

“Stay still,” he ordered, and she froze. The fact she did so without complaint made him want to push into her right then, filling her with his cock.

Not until she came.

“Austin.” She gasped as he pumped two fingers into her. Her channel clamped around them, and he flicked her clit. Her head hit the bed as she came, and he kept licking until she came down from her peak.

He pulled away, stripping quickly, before hovering over her body. “You ready for me, Legs?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice thick like honey. “I’m always ready for you.”

“Good,” he answered as he entered her slowly, his gaze never leaving her eyes. He made love to her slowly, not wanting to hurt her. The sweet ache of her body wrapped around him as he thrust in and out of her made him want to scream her name to the heavens. After they came together, their bodies slick with sweat, he rolled to the side, keeping her with him and his cock still deep within her.

“I love you, Sierra Elder.”

“I love you too, Austin Montgomery.”

Austin sighed happily. He’d found his future, his life, his woman. No matter what came next he knew he could handle it with Sierra by his side. He was one lucky bastard, and he’d count his lucky stars until the day he died.

Sierra Elder was his.

Finally.

SIERRA WINCED as Austin wiped down the area on her side again, the slow buzz of the needle grating. Apparently it was only when the needle was tattooing others that she thought it was sexy. The daisies Austin was inking on her side freaking hurt. Well, not the daisies, but the freaking needle piercing into her skin.

Not that she’d tell him that though. If she looked like she wanted to cry, he might stop, and then she’d have to sit in the chair again.

Okay, so it didn’t hurt that bad, but since he had to keep moving her scarred skin around to fully outline the area with daises, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience.

“All done, Legs,” Austin said, squeezing her thigh. “You did good.”

Sierra gave him a strained smile then tried to sit up.

“Wait, baby. Let me show you your ink and let you rest a bit. I know that hurt like a bitch.” He leaned closer so only she could hear. “I know you like pain, but only from my palm or a flogger. It’s okay.”

She winced then closed her eyes, and she kissed him. “It wasn’t that bad. Plus I have one more tattoo to get.”

Austin raised a brow then smiled broadly. “You’re getting the Montgomery Iris?”

“I’m going to be a Montgomery, aren’t I? It’s tradition.”

Austin patted her ass and smiled even wider. “Fuck yeah you’re going to be a Montgomery. I can’t wait.”

“I can’t either.”

He finished cleaning the area then went over after-care instructions. Luckily she was going home with her artist so he’d be there to help her. She had to admit, the daisies that cascaded around her scars were amazing. They hurt, but she’d wanted to go big for her tattoo, so she couldn’t really blame anyone.

Austin cupped her face then sighed. “I’m so glad you came into the shop that morning.”

“You were an asshole, but I love you anyway.”

“Legs, I’m still an asshole, but I love you too.”

“Dear Lord, stop with the mush already,” Maya sneered from her corner, though she was smiling.

“Aww, we love you too, Maya!” Sierra joked. Austin chuckled by her side, and she licked her lips.

“So, uh, how long until we can properly test out my flexibility with that tattoo?” she whispered.

Austin’s eyes darkened. “Soon, Legs. Soon.” He groaned. “You do realize I have a client in, like, thirty minutes, right? I can’t ink a dude while I have a hard-on.”

She patted his face. “Oh, poor baby. I’m going to Eden and will let you get to it. Leif should be getting out of school in a couple hours, so we can all eat dinner together.”

They sounded so normal. Like a family.

The idea made Sierra feel like she’d made the right choice, that she was the luckiest girl in the world.

In fact, she was.

She’d walked into Montgomery Ink all those months ago for a tattoo and had walked out not only with fresh ink, but a son, a future, and a man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

Talk about lucky.

A NOTE FROM CARRIE ANN

Thank you so much for reading DELICATE INK. I do hope if you liked this story, that you would please leave a review. Not only does a review spread the word to other readers, they let us authors know if you’d like to see more stories like this from us. I love hearing from readers and talking to them when I can. If you want to make sure you know what’s coming next from me, you can sign up for my newsletter at www.CarrieAnnRyan.com; follow me on twitter at @CarrieAnnRyan, or like my Facebook page. I also have a Facebook Fan Club where we have trivia, chats, and other goodies. You guys are the reason I get to do what I do and I thank you.

Make sure you’re signed up for my MAILING LIST so you can know when the next releases are available as well as find giveaways and FREE READS.

Delicate Ink is the first full length book in the Montgomery Ink series. I do hope you enjoyed Austin and Sierra’s story. Each of the Montgomerys will get their own book and a few non-Montgomerys as well. Next up is a novella called Forever Ink that will be in the Hot Ink anthology with Cari Quinn and Sidney Bristol. That should be out in Nov 2014. Forever Ink is about Callie and an older man named Morgan. It’s a super hot novella that is actually longer than most novellas should be! The next full length book will be called Tempting Boundaries and is about Decker and Miranda. Those two have a long road ahead and I for one can’t wait. I love Best Friend’s Little Sister stories!

If you don’t want to wait for more Montgomery Ink books, I also have my Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Dante’s Circle series going in full swing now so there’s always a Carrie Ann book on the horizon!

Montgomery Ink:

Book 0.5: Ink Inspired

Book 0.6: Ink Reunited

Book 1: Delicate Ink

The Montgomery Ink Box Set (Contains Books 0.5, 0.6, 1)

Book 1.5: Forever Ink

Book 2: Tempting Boundaries

Book 3: Harder than Words

Book 4: Written in Ink

Book 4.5: Hidden Ink

Book 5: Ink Enduring

Book 6: Ink Exposed (Coming November 2016)

Book 6.5: Adoring Ink (Coming January 2017)

Book 7: Inked Expressions (Coming June 2017)

Want to keep up to date with the next Carrie Ann Ryan Release? Receive Text Alerts easily!

Text CARRIE to 24587

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan never thought she’d be a writer. Not really. No, she loved math and science and even went on to graduate school in chemistry. Yes, she read as a kid and devoured teen fiction and Harry Potter, but it wasn’t until someone handed her a romance book in her late teens that she realized that there was something out there just for her. When another author suggested she use the voices in her head for good and not evil, The Redwood Pack and all her other stories were born.

Carrie Ann is a bestselling author of over twenty novels and novellas and has so much more on her mind (and on her spreadsheets *grins*) that she isn’t planning on giving up her dream anytime soon.

www.CarrieAnnRyan.com

Redwood Pack Series:

Book 1: An Alpha’s Path

Book 2: A Taste for a Mate

Book 3: Trinity Bound

Redwood Pack Box Set (Contains Books 1-3)

Book 3.5: A Night Away

Book 4: Enforcer’s Redemption

Book 4.5: Blurred Expectations

Book 4.7: Forgiveness

Book 5: Shattered Emotions

Book 6: Hidden Destiny

Book 6.5: A Beta’s Haven

Book 7: Fighting Fate

Book 7.5: Loving the Omega

Book 7.7: The Hunted Heart

Book 8: Wicked Wolf

The Complete Redwood Pack Box Set (Contains Books 1-7.7)

The Talon Pack (Following the Redwood Pack Series):

Book 1: Tattered Loyalties

Book 2: An Alpha’s Choice

Book 3: Mated in Mist

Book 4: Wolf Betrayed (Coming Oct 2016)

Book 5: Fractured Silence (Coming April 2017)

Montgomery Ink:

Book 0.5: Ink Inspired

Book 0.6: Ink Reunited

Book 1: Delicate Ink

The Montgomery Ink Box Set (Contains Books 0.5, 0.6, 1)

Book 1.5: Forever Ink

Book 2: Tempting Boundaries

Book 3: Harder than Words

Book 4: Written in Ink

Book 4.5: Hidden Ink

Book 5: Ink Enduring

Book 6: Ink Exposed (Coming November 2016)

Book 6.5: Adoring Ink (Coming January 2017)

Book 7: Inked Expressions (Coming June 2017)

The Gallagher Brothers Series:

A Montgomery Ink Spin Off Series

Book 1: Love Restored (Coming September 2016)

Book 2: Passion Restored (Coming February 2017)

Book 3: Hope Restored (Coming July 2017)

The Branded Pack Series:

(Written with Alexandra Ivy)

Book 1: Stolen and Forgiven

Book 2: Abandoned and Unseen

Book 3: Buried and Shadowed

Dante’s Circle Series:

Book 1: Dust of My Wings

Book 2: Her Warriors’ Three Wishes

Book 3: An Unlucky Moon

The Dante’s Circle Box Set (Contains Books 1-3)

Book 3.5: His Choice

Book 4: Tangled Innocence

Book 5: Fierce Enchantment

Book 6: An Immortal’s Song

Book 7: Prowled Darkness

The Complete Dante’s Circle Series (Contains Books 1-7)

Holiday, Montana Series:

Book 1: Charmed Spirits

Book 2: Santa’s Executive

Book 3: Finding Abigail

The Holiday, Montana Box Set (Contains Books 1-3)

Book 4: Her Lucky Love

Book 5: Dreams of Ivory

The Complete Holiday, Montana Box Set (Contains Books 1-5)

The Happy Ever After Series:

Flame and Ink

Single Title:

Finally Found You

EXCERPT: FOREVER INK

Next From New York Times Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan’s Montgomery Ink

Being bent over a table for long hours was only one of the perks in being Callie Masters. No, really...the ache that came from that position felt like nothing else. Since being bent over in just that way came from her inking a new client on her own with a brilliant—if she did say so herself—tattoo, she couldn’t wait for the ache again. In fact, if she was reading her boss right, she might just be in for more soon.

Today was going to be a kickass day. Callie did a little hip shake around the office, humming to herself. When her hands went up into the air, she closed her eyes, swaying to music only she could hear. She danced to the beat in her head, getting herself in the mindset to work. That wasn’t difficult since she freaking loved her job. I’m doing what I always dreamed of doing—and I get paid for it. How lucky is that? She was twenty-five and knew she was well on her way to actually having a career bringing art, happiness, and memories to those who asked for it.

Being an apprentice to Austin Montgomery, the co-owner of Montgomery Ink, was a dream come true for some tattoo artists, and she was the one who held the coveted spot. Austin had only apprenticed one other before her, and that had been a few years before she’d come to the shop in search of a new life. She did another hip shake and turned on her heel twice. Her earrings tapped against her jaw as she wiggled around.

Yes, she’d had just a bit too much coffee. She couldn’t help it though since her favorite place, Taboo, had a side entrance to the shop. Plus, her friend Hailey owned and operated it. Callie felt it was her duty to support the local businesses.

She shook her butt again.

Maybe she should lay off the caffeine. Just a bit.

“Seriously? Dancing alone in the office without any music is weird. Even for you.”

Sloane, her friend and co-worker, said it with a smile, but Callie still blushed right up to the roots of her black and red hair. She blinked up at the big bald man who didn’t smile as often as he should. He towered over her but she knew he was a big softie.

Okay, so he could probably crush someone’s head with his bare hands, but he was like her big brother.

Still, he didn’t have to make fun of her.

“I was alone. I’m allowed to dance if I want to.”

Sloane snorted. “Sure you can, sweetie. And when I walk in on you, I’m going to call you crazy. But we still love you.”

She punched him in the stomach and winced at the pain in her hand. Did all the men in Montgomery Ink bulk up to work here? She felt so puny next to them. Most girls would love that, and she probably would too if she didn’t work day in and day out with them. They all treated her like she was their little sister. It didn’t bother her much considering she felt the same way relationship-wise, but it would be nice if a man gave her a passing glance once in a while.

Whoa. Where had that come from? Apparently, coming down from a caffeine high led one down the path of loneliness, self-doubt and self-pity. Best to head that off at the pass and get more caffeine.

Her body begged for the stuff and she grinned. Yep, coffee could fix anything.

“How’s your hand?” Sloane asked, bringing her out of her coffee fixation.

She waved it in the air, then stretched her fingers. “Fine, but next time at least try to make it look like I could hurt you. Okay?”

His lips twitched and he patted her on the head. See? There was no way she’d find him attractive, not when he made her feel like she was his baby sister. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She loved her Montgomery Ink family.

She just needed to get laid.

Well then, more caffeine and new avenues of thought were needed.

Stat.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Sloane asked as he moved around her. He shuffled through a few blank notebooks before finding one that fit his tastes, then did the same with the pencils.

“Nothing.” She cursed. “I mean, nothing important. I think I just need a chai or something.” She shuffled her feet, not knowing what was wrong with her. She’d been antsy for a while now and she couldn’t figure it out. Yes, everything was going great—job, friends, and life in general— and she couldn’t complain, but for some reason, she felt as if she were on the precipice of something…waiting for something she couldn’t quite name. It was as if she were waiting on the sidelines for something to happen.

And she hated waiting.

Callie preferred action. If she hadn’t gone for what she wanted in the first place, she wouldn’t be where she was today.

It wasn’t like she could control that emotion though, so she needed to push it aside and actually get to work.

“What are you going to draw today?” she asked Sloane when he didn’t comment on her drink preference. He knew she was a caffeine addict and there was no changing her.

Sloane looked at her briefly out of the corner of his eye before running his hand over the blank page. She loved watching her artists work. They had a system, a way that was unique to each of them. And yes, she did consider them her artists. One day, she might even have a chair and a station of her own. One day.

“There’s a guy coming in tomorrow for a consult, ex-military.” An odd expression passed over his face, and she held back the urge to comfort him. She knew Sloane was also ex-military, but he never talked about it and she never pushed him. She knew better than that. “He said over the phone he wanted a hawk on his back so I’m going to get him a few samples.”

Callie nodded, her throat closing up. “And you want this one to be special,” she said quietly.

Sloane gave her a brief nod, then got back to work, his attention on the pad in front of him—or maybe in the past she and her friends could never quite reach.

She backed out of the office quietly, grabbing her own notepad, pencil, and wallet on the way. She loved her brothers- and sister-in-ink so much sometimes that it hurt. She wanted to fix all of them but it wasn’t her place.

“Hey, you going to Hailey’s?” Austin asked from his stool. He had one hand on a beefy dude in front of him and a tattoo gun in the other. Curious, she walked over to them to admire his work.

She held back a happy sigh at the look of the iguana wrapping itself around the man’s upper arm. Austin was a genius when it came to shading and coloring. He was working on the different shades of green, blending them in so well it looked like a photo, rather than ink on skin.

“Callie?”

“What? Oh yeah, I’m going to Hailey’s. You want something?”

“A small iced coffee would be great. I need a boost.” He glanced at his client. “You want a smoothie or juice from there? We have some things in the fridge, but if Callie is going next door, might as well get something better.”

His client gave Callie his order—a large strawberry smoothie—and she left the two of them to it. When she got back, she’d either sit with Austin and watch him work, or maybe take a walk. She was at the point where Austin and his sister Maya let her work on small tattoos with their supervision. Anything that took less than an hour was fair game and she loved it. She also knew she was ready for the next step, at least she felt like it, and she hoped Austin felt the same way.

Callie walked through the side door into Taboo, Hailey’s café and inhaled the rich aroma of soup, fresh coffee, and baked goods. Her mouth watered and she figured she should probably get a small snack while she was there. Caffeine only did so much.

Hailey stood behind the counter, talking to one of her regulars. Her friend’s bleach blonde bob shined under the lights, not a hair out of place. Callie didn’t know how the other woman did it. She looked perfect even after a long day of working with food, humidity, and customers who had long days as well.

Callie ran a hand through her black and red hair, knowing it probably looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. She’d used the flat iron over it that morning, but Denver was oddly humid that day. Considering the city air usually sucked the moisture right out of her skin most days, that was saying something.

“Stop playing with your hair. You look beautiful. As always. Lucky bitch.” Hailey winked, then came over to Callie. “Sit down and tell me what you need.”

“A man?” she blurted, then shut her eyes. Damn. Totally not what she meant to say.

Hailey threw her head back and laughed. “It’s about time you said that, although I don’t know if you need a man so much as to get laid.”

The other customer at the counter sputtered his coffee and Callie laughed, turning to him. “She meant that I don’t need a man in my life, just an orgasm. I’m not a lesbian. Well, I made out with a couple girls when I was, like, nineteen, but that was just experimenting. It’s good to make sure you’re sure about what you want, you know?”

The man blushed hard, put money on the counter, and scurried away.

Hailey laughed beside her. “If I didn’t know that man has probably heard worse coming in here and listening to Maya talk, I’d get angry with you for scaring away business.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “What? He was listening in to you talking about me getting laid. I just wanted to clarify.”

“You’re a dork, but I love you. Now, tell me what you want caffeine and food wise since I can’t help you with the getting laid thing.”

“Shame,” Callie teased.

Hailey tapped her fingers on the counter. “You know I’m swoon-worthy, but I’m not what you need. Nor are you what I want.” Her eyes drifted over to Montgomery Ink and Callie held back a retort. There were secrets friends kept for one another. Longing, unrequited love, and lust were just parts of it.

“I want an iced chai, Austin wants a small iced coffee, his client wants a large strawberry smoothie, and I think I’ll take a fruit salad too since I need sustenance.”

Hailey nodded, then turned back to start working on Callie’s order. “What about Sloane?” Hailey asked casually. Too casually.

Callie sighed. She couldn’t fix her friends’ problems even if she desperately wanted to. “He’s working on a project that’s probably going to take a lot out of him. I didn’t want to bother him by asking for his drink order when he was so focused.”

Hailey shook her head, mumbling to herself. “I’ll get him his energy shake and make him a cup of soup.” She looked over her shoulder. “Make sure he eats it. Okay?”

Callie nodded, knowing Hailey wanted to take care of Sloane even if she couldn’t do it personally. There was only so much she could do, and since Callie was sure she didn’t know the whole of it, she wouldn’t interfere. It wasn’t her place.

Hailey put the food in a bag, and the cups in a container when she was finished. “You need help getting everything over there?”

Callie shook her head. “No, I’ve got this. If there was another drink order, then I’d need help, but Maya is off today so we’re good.”

“She out with Jake again?”

Callie snorted. “Yep. It’s her day off so she’s off doing something with Jake. They’re just friends though, Hailey. I’m pretty sure they’ve never slept together since I don’t get those vibes.”

“You can’t just be friends with a man like that.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’m friends with him. In fact, I’m friends with the whole crew, and I haven’t slept with any of them.”

Hailey sighed. “Yeah, but you work with them and they treat you like a sister. Jake doesn’t treat Maya like a sister.”

“No, he treats her like one of the guys. I honestly think they’re good as friends. Plus she gets enough shit about it that I don’t want to tease her.”

Hailey threw her head back and laughed. “Honey, you tease her about sleeping with him all the time. You even call her out on it in public and joke about it. She jokes right back, so it’s just the way the two of you work.”

Callie blushed. That was true. Maya scared most people since she was brash, had more ink than some deemed lady-like, and spoke her mind. She used to intimidate Callie too, but then Callie had seen beneath the gruff exterior into the woman that cared for those she loved with all her heart. Now the two of them joked around and Jake was just more fodder. If Callie had ever caught a glimpse of pain in the other woman’s eyes, she’d never do it, but Maya took it in stride and teased right back.

“I’ll see you later, hon. Don’t work too hard.”

“I never do,” Hailey lied.

Callie rolled her eyes, then made her way back into the shop. She dropped off Sloane’s soup and drink in the office. He didn’t acknowledge her, his focus on the drawing in front of him. She didn’t sneak a peek though, since she didn’t want to pry, but she wanted to.

“Eat this or I’ll sic Hailey on you,” she said softly.

Sloane froze and slowly looked over to the soup. “Thanks,” he said gruffly, then went back to work.

Shit. Maybe mentioning Hailey’s name while he was in the zone wasn’t the best thing to do, but she couldn’t take it back now. She went back out into the shop and handed Austin his drink while setting his client’s smoothie in front of him.

“So how goes things?” she asked, taking a sip of her chai. Yummy cinnamon goodness.

The client mumbled something and she snuck a look at Austin.

“We’re almost done, Geoff is just in the zone.” Austin stopped and looked over at his client’s face. “You still good, bro?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt, but the vibrating is getting to me.”

Austin nodded and got back to work. The buzz of the needle calmed Callie at the same time as it excited her. The paradox was what made her a tattoo artist. She loved the idea of creating something new while knowing the act itself was something she could dive deep into.

“Getting close. I’m just shading the last bit now then we’ll cover you up. I know after a while the sound can be too much.”

“Thanks,” Geoff mumbled, his eyes closed.

“Anything you want me to do?” Callie asked as Austin worked.

Austin tilted his head toward the front of the shop. “We have a walk in sitting in the chairs looking at the books. Then later we have a consult that I want you to be part of. From what the girl said she wanted, you should be able to handle it yourself.”

Callie beamed, her fingers tapping along her thigh. She couldn’t wait to get started, but doing another dance probably wouldn’t show off the calm, cool, and collected persona most badass tattoo artists radiated.

“What’s the consult?” she asked, eager to start working on the girl’s tattoo even though she knew she should get all the information first.

“A friend of mine from while back. You’ll see. I think you’ll be intrigued.”

Callie’s brow raised at that cryptic comment, then sucked back more of her chai. “Okay, then. Where do you want me to work?” Since she wasn’t a full time tattoo artist, she didn’t have a station of her own. She had her own kit and tools that she’s acquired over time, but unlike the others, she didn’t have a chair and area of her own. She bounced around from station to station, usually sharing space so she could learn and be watched over as she did so. It didn’t bother her since most people had to work that way when they first started and she honestly learned a lot from just having someone there to help her if needed.

Austin looked up from Geoff’s arm. “Go take the empty one near Sloane. You should be done with what the girl wants by the time Morgan gets here.”

Her body stiffened at the mention of an empty station. That was new.

“Morgan?” she asked, trying to sound casual about what his other words meant.

“My friend with the consult.” Austin grinned. “And yeah, Callie. Take the extra station. We cleared it out for you last night.”

Callie froze, her eyes filling. “What?”

Austin, cursed, then patted Geoff’s back. “Give me a sec.”

“Sure thing. If you’re about do to what I think you’re about to do, then I’m glad I’m here to witness it.”

Callie swallowed hard, her gaze going from Austin, to Geoff, to the empty station, then back to Austin. “What do you mean?”

“You’re ready for your own space, hon,” Austin said softly. “You’ve been ready for awhile, but Maya and I wanted to be sure the shop was ready too. Since Tommy moved away when his wife got stationed in Texas last week, we’ve opened up a space. So it’s yours. We’ll talk business and what it all means when Maya gets back, but welcome to the family. You’re one of us.”

Callie threw her arms around Austin’s neck, crying softly. “Oh thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Austin patted her back and set her down. “You’re good at what you do. So go work on the star for that girl over there and then we can work with Morgan together.”

She nodded, a bit dazed, then kissed Austin on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Putting moves on my man?” Sierra teased as she walked in.

Callie blushed then stepped back from Austin. “He just told me I get my own station, so I was just saying thanks. He’s all yours.”

Sierra beamed and hugged her tight. Callie closed her eyes, letting her family in everything but blood celebrate with her. “I’m so proud of you.” She looked over at Austin. “Maya’s going to be pissed you didn’t wait for her.”

Austin shrugged. “Whatever. I want Callie to work with Morgan and Maya isn’t here. She’ll get over it.”

Callie winced. “I so don’t want to be here when you’re telling her that.”

“Whatever,” Austin mumbled, his attention on his work.

“It’s good to see you,” Callie said to Sierra.

“You too, honey. I’m just stopping in to say hi on my way out to see another boutique in the area.”

Callie raised a brow. “Problems?” Sierra owned Eden, a new boutique across the street. That’s how she and Austin had met.

“Problems? Oh no. Not at all. I just like to know what the other shops are selling. It’s good to know your rivals.”

Callie grinned. “Oh, good. Have fun and let me know how it goes.”

“Will do and congratulations, honey.”

“Thank you!” Callie bounced her way to the girl sitting in the waiting room, trying to act causal and totally failing. Whatever, she was a full-fledged tattoo artist now. With a station and everything. She could act perky and her age if she wanted.

“Hi, I’m Callie and I’ll be your artist today.” Yay. “Come on over to my station and we’ll talk stars.” Her station. Yay again.

The girl smiled at her. “I’m Jessica. It’s nice to meet you.”

Callie led Jessica over to her new station and talked stars and placement. Austin was right; this would be a super easy first tattoo on her own. The girl wanted it on the inside of her wrist, no bigger than a fingernail. Plus she only wanted the outline and no fill.

“Let me get my things and then we can get started,” Callie said then headed back to the office to get her kit.

By the time she got everything ready and started sketching in front of Jessica, she was jazzed and ready to start inking. She stenciled the star on the girl’s wrist, got approval, and started tattooing. The buzz went straight to her bones and she grinned.

God, she loved her job.

Jessica didn’t flinch as Callie worked. It really depended on the person and location if someone was going to move around a lot during a session. This girl didn’t seem too bothered by the needle and Callie counted herself grateful. A perfect client and tattoo for her first job all on her own. Sure, she’d done tattoos before, but never on her own. Never in a station she could make hers. Austin, Sloane, Maya and the others would be there if she needed them, but right then, she was all on her own.

And oh my, didn’t that sound amazing?

By the time she finished up the paperwork and said goodbye to Jessica, Austin was already done with another consult after Geoff had left. Sloane was at his station, working on a leg piece that she’d want to get a look at later and they had a nice flow to the room. Not too busy, yet enough people to make her feel like she was in the right place.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled and she shivered. She turned toward the door and blinked once. Twice.

The sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life stood in the doorway.

No, stood wasn’t a good word, not with the way his presence filled the shop. Dear Lord, was she panting? His broad shoulders were encased in a suit that had to cost more than her rent, but she didn’t care about that. His thick chest tapered into a trim waist and strong thighs. Just the thought of those thighs made her clench her own. He had his hands fisted at his sides, and oh God, those hands. Large, thick, and they looked so out of place compared to his classy suit. It looked as if he actually used his hands rather than merely sitting behind a desk as his attire suggested.

She let her gaze rake over his body and settle on his face. His attention was focused in front of him so she got his profile. He’d clenched his jaw, but damn, he looked amazing. He had to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had one of the expensive haircuts that made his dark brown strands look like they were perfectly manicured. With the way his hair had gone silver on his sideburns, it made him look even more dangerous.

He might be older her than her, but her hormones didn’t care. No, they screamed ‘fuck yeah, let’s ride’. Her nipples tightened and she thanked God she’d worn a bra that morning. Talk about embarrassing if that was the first thing he’d see.

He turned toward her and she sucked in a breath. Piercing blue eyes stared back at her, studying her like they would something they didn’t quite understand.

Not something she was unfamiliar with.

She wanted this man. Now. Later. More than once.

“Morgan, glad you made it,” Austin said as he walked up to the man with the sexy eyes. He held out a hand and Morgan clasped it.

“Thanks for sparing the time for me,” Morgan said, his voice low, gruff. So deep that it vibrated straight to her pussy.

Damn. This was Morgan. The man Austin wanted her to ink. It wouldn’t do well for her to lust after him. Sure, Austin had ended up engaged to Sierra after a consult, but sleeping with clients wasn’t the best way to start a career.

Her libido cursed at her and she pushed it aside. She’d just look from afar…even as she put her hands on him in a professional sense.

“Callie.”

She shook her head and looked up at the men again. It seemed they’d been trying to get her attention and she’d been off in her own dirty thoughts.

“Sorry, I was woolgathering.”

Austin gave her a curious look then motioned for her to come over. “Morgan, this is Callie Masters. Callie, this is one of my old friends, Morgan McAllister. From what you said you wanted Morgan, I really think Callie is going to do a great job on your ink.”

Morgan frowned. “Has she been tattooing long? I thought I’d come in and get you to work on me, not a new student.”

Callie bit back the frustration at the fact he talked about her like she wasn’t even there. “I’m experienced, Mr. McAllister. Don’t worry, I won’t screw up your tattoo.”

“Yeah, Morgan. She’s an amazing artist and exquisite with color. You’re going to be in good hands.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”

“He does,” Callie bit back. Normally she was a little more gracious when it came to clients. It wasn’t as if she’d been immune to people thinking she couldn’t cut it before. But he’d heated her up quickly then just as fast, cooled her down.

She might want to fuck him, or at least might have wanted—past tense—but now she wanted to prove to him she was good enough. He was way too rigid for her and that ‘student’ comment told her he thought she was too young.

Austin looked between the two of them then met her gaze. She nodded, telling him with her eyes that she could handle it. Later, when Morgan wasn’t there, she’d tell Austin how she felt. He seemed to understand, then took a step back.

“Okay then. I’ll let the two of you work together.” He squeezed Morgan’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t put you into hands I didn’t trust with all my heart. Got me?”

Morgan nodded, but didn’t lose the frown. Whatever, she’d prove to him—and herself—she could do this.

She led him to her new station and gestured for him to sit down. He did so, but didn’t lose the suit jacket, that rigidness never leaving his body.

“What is it you wanted?” she asked, trying to keep her voice warm. She wouldn’t let this guy rock her. She’d been through worse; she could do this.

“A full back piece that goes down the back of my arms, but also is easily covered up in a suit.”

Well damn. That was big. Really big.

“What do you want it of?”

He met her eyes. “A phoenix.”

A symbol for rebirth. For change.

She could do this. Her fingers itched to start sketching. Oh damn, she couldn’t wait to ink this on his body.

She smiled then. “That’s something we can do, Mr. McAllister. Don’t you worry, you’re in good hands.”

He raised a brow, but she didn’t blush. She’d give him the best tattoo of her life and then she’d let him walk away. Morgan McAllister and all his sexiness weren’t for her, but she’d show him what she could do with her ink.

She was Callie Masters. Kickass tattoo artist.

Find out more in Forever Ink. Out Now.

To make sure you’re up to date on all of Carrie Ann’s releases, sign up for her mailing list HERE.

AN ALPHA’S PATH

From New York Times Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan’s Redwood Pack Series

An Alpha’s Path

Melanie is a twenty-five year old chemist who has spent all of her adult life slaving at school. With her PhD in hand, she’s to start her dream job, but before she does, her friend persuades her to relax and try to live again. A blind date set up through her friends seems like the perfect solution. Melanie can take one night away from the lab and let her inner vixen out on a fixed blind date – a chance to get crazy with a perfect stranger. The gorgeous hunk she’s to meet exceeds her wildest dreams – but he is more than what he appears and Melanie’s analytical mind goes into overdrive.

Kade, a slightly older werewolf (at over one hundred years), needs a night way from the Pack. Too many responsibilities and one near miss with a potential mate made Kade hide in his work, the only peace he can find. His brother convinces him to meet the sexy woman for a one night of fun. What could it hurt? But when he finds this woman could be his mate, can he convince her to leave her orderly, sane world and be with him and his wolf-half, for life?

Find out more in An Alpha’s Path. Out Now.

To make sure you’re up to date on all of Carrie Ann’s releases, sign up for her mailing list HERE.

DUST OF MY WINGS

From New York Times Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan’s Dante’s Circle Series

Humans aren’t as alone as they choose to believe. Every human possesses a trait of supernatural that lays dormant within their genetic make-up. Centuries of diluting and breeding have allowed humans to think they are alone and untouched by magic. But what happens when something changes?

Neat freak lab tech, Lily Banner lives her life as any ordinary human. She’s dedicated to her work and loves to hang out with her friends at Dante’s Circle, their local bar. When she discovers a strange blue dust at work she meets a handsome stranger holding secrets – and maybe her heart. But after a close call with a thunderstorm, she may not be as ordinary as she thinks.

Shade Griffin is a warrior angel sent to Earth to protect the supernaturals’ secrets. One problem, he can’t stop leaving dust in odd places around town. Now he has to find every ounce of his dust and keep the presence of the supernatural a secret. But after a close encounter with a sexy lab tech and a lightning quick connection, his millennia old loyalties may shift and he could lose more than just his wings in the chaos.

Warning: Contains a sexy angel with a choice to make and a green-eyed lab tech who dreams of a dark-winged stranger. Oh yeah, and a shocking spark that's sure to leave them begging for more.

Find out more in Dust of My Wings. Out Now.

To make sure you’re up to date on all of Carrie Ann’s releases, sign up for her mailing list HERE.

CHARMED SPIRITS

From New York Times Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan’s Holiday Montana Series

Jordan Cross has returned to Holiday, Montana after eleven long years to clear out her late aunt’s house, put it on the market, and figure out what she wants to do with the rest of her life. Soon, she finds herself facing the town that turned its back on her because she was different. Because being labeled a witch in a small town didn’t earn her many friends...especially when it wasn't a lie.

Matt Cooper has lived in Holiday his whole life. He's perfectly content being a bachelor alongside his four single brothers in a very small town. After all, the only woman he'd ever loved ran out on him without a goodbye. But now Jordan’s back and just as bewitching as ever. Can they rekindle their romance with a town set against them?

Warning: Contains an intelligent, sexy witch with an attitude and drop-dead gorgeous man who likes to work with his hands, holds a secret that might scare someone, and really, really, likes table tops for certain activities. Enough said.

Find out more in Charmed Spirits. Out Now.

To make sure you’re up to date on all of Carrie Ann’s releases, sign up for her mailing list HERE.

Published by Jenika Snow

www.JenikaSnow.com

Copyright © July 2014 by Jenika Snow

First E-book Publication: July 2014

Cover design by Jay Aheer

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

WARNING: This is not a traditional love story. This book does not end in the normal “happily ever after.” There are no wedding bells at the end, no love being professed, or long walks on the beach. If that is the type of story you want this book probably isn’t for you. This book is fiction and contains material readers may find offensive. There is disturbing content, graphic sex, violence, and strong language.

BLURB

Bethany Sterling comes from a privileged family, one that believes in modern-day marriage arrangements. On the outside she plays the part of the perfect daughter, but on the inside she is looking for another way out. She hides what she really wants in life, because showing her dreams and aspirations is a weakness she can’t afford to reveal.

As soon as Abe saw her he knew that he would go to any lengths to make her his. He is trained to be lethal, stealthy, and have no remorse in his actions. His dark needs take control of him until he is nothing more than a machine intent on following his plan.

Bethany finally gets her wish for a new life, but it isn’t how she envisioned it. Now with Abe she realizes that his need for her runs deep. He looks at her as if he owns not only her body, but her soul, too. His possessiveness is something she should fear, but she is also compelled and attracted to him because of it. It is those turbulent emotions pulling her in different directions that will have Bethany deciding how far she is willing to go.

CHAPTER ONE

APRIL 2014

ABE WATCHED HER, had been watching her for over a year. Was it sick that he wanted her with this twisted obsession? No, it was sweet pleasure and anticipation that ran through his veins. Being so close to her and having the very depraved image of what he wanted to do to her playing through his mind was making him itchy. He needed her with him, needed to have her away from all of this saccharine falseness with the plastered-on smiles and the sick corruption.

On the outside he played the part, was the strict man that guarded her high-profile father. He was a trained killer, lethal in every way conceivable, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Emotion clogged ultimate goals and caused the most skilled person to make mistakes. He had no emotions, and was not capable of the love and compassion that others drowned themselves in. What he had was determination and need, and all of it was centered on Bethany.

His training had been unorthodox, but the world was cruel and unforgiving and if he didn’t take what he wanted then it would never be his. He was no military man, didn’t have a Purple Heart for his bravery and being wounded at war. The questionable training he had received at a young age had molded him into the man he was today.

Deadly. Calculating. Intelligent.

Abe had been called all of those and more. But he was just a machine working toward the ultimate goal. And the end result would be the sweetest release he had ever had. Bethany would be his, and with his release would come hers. She also played the part that was expected of her, but he could see in her eyes she was trapped in a gold-gilded prison.

She wanted a way out, wanted to be taken away from everything that was suffocating her. He would be the man to help her, to make her realize that she was just like him. Tonight he would make that happen.

He stayed in the shadows and watched the party guests arrive. But only Abe knew there would be no wedding. He blended into the darkness with his black fatigues and dark boots. He didn’t miss anything, and absorbed everything.

Alert. Prepared. Anticipating.

He took in the sound of the wind moving through the trees, of the tires from the approaching cars moving along the gravel driveway, and of the laughter and conversation from the people only feet away. He analyzed each syllable and took note of the minutest detail. When the last guest had entered the mansion and the valet had parked the final luxury car, Abe moved further into the shadows and around the back of the house. Security was stationed around the perimeter, but they didn’t have the training he had. They didn’t know the signs of a predator amongst them… when he was right in front of them.

Abe stopped in front of the large picture window that showed into the dining hall. A hundred guests sat at white cloth-covered tables and drank from their gold-gilded champagne flutes. But he didn’t need to scan the room to know where Bethany was. She sat at the head of the table in the front of the room, dressed in an innocent and delicate white dress. The tiny white lights cast a plethora of gold and rainbows around her, and everything inside of him tightened.

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and felt the darkness inside rise violently the longer he stared at her. He wanted her now, but he needed to be smart about this. Her long dark hair was piled high on her head and her delicate neck invoked images of him biting at her tender skin, leaving bruises and marks so he could see the proof of his ownership. He was hard, so fucking hard he could rival the strength of steel.

And then Abe trained his gaze on the man that threatened what Abe wanted. He was an abuser, a womanizer, and the man that used the façade of being noble and sophisticated to manipulate others. He was the one that planned on taking Bethany away from Abe, of using her in the most deplorable way and playing it off as what husbands did with their wives. Abe knew all about him, had watched him, learned his habits, and had stopped himself many times from taking matters into his own hands and ending the miserable bastard. Abe could say what he planned on doing was because of those reasons alone, but that would be a fucking lie.

He had originally planned on taking Bethany away from all of this solely because he wanted her. She would be his, only his, and anyone that thought of standing in his way would see firsthand exactly how deadly he was. And the main obstacle was her fiancé, Steven Michael St. Gerrard.

*     *     *

FEBRUARY 2014

“WHAT ARE you going to do?”

Bethany didn’t respond right away, and lifted her gaze from the cappuccino in front of her to stare at Madison. Her friend since grade school was just as prim and proper as every other person in Bethany’s life. Madison held her focus on her phone, and although she had acted concerned about Bethany’s situation, she seemed more concerned in texting her boyfriend, Blaine.

Bethany stared at her friend with the cream-colored cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, her taupe blouse, and her equally bland and neutral skirt. Madison was the epitome of the type of woman her father wanted her to be. But everyone in the restaurant was dressed in the same upper-class and snooty manner. Bethany looked down at herself and picked at her off-white cardigan. She hated that she was a sheep amongst the flock, but doing anything other than that would have had others look down on her. When she looked back at Madison she saw her friend now watching her.

“So what are you going to do?” Madison asked again as she grabbed her coffee. Bethany watched the droplets of condensation slide down the clear, smooth crystal, and knew that saying any more wouldn’t solve this problem.

“There isn’t anything that I can do. What choice do I have but to marry a man I don’t love, and live this lie of a life?”

Madison shrugged. “You’re being dramatic. You could have it much worse than becoming engaged to Steven. He is wealthy, a gentleman, and so very attractive. You could have been set to marry Marshall Booviaire.”

“Marshall?”

“Yeah, you know that Frenchman Clarrisa Harshton married. He was like twice her age, wasn’t nearly as wealthy as Steven, and he even smelled funny.”

“Oh yeah, I completely forgot about Clarissa and him.” Bethany reached for her tea and took a sip.

“So see, you could have it much worse.”

Bethany didn’t respond, didn’t really know how to respond in fact. She honestly didn’t even know why she had agreed to come to brunch with Madison or say anything to her. No, that wasn’t true. She had maybe thought her friend, the one she had known her whole life, might be able to sympathize with her.

“You didn’t go around telling anyone else that you don’t want to marry Steven, did you?”

“I talked to my mother and father. My mom was more dismissive of the whole idea, and kept talking about what a good match he was. My father…” Just thinking about that conversation left a bad taste in her mouth. “He more or less cut the conversation off before it started.” Even now she could hear her father’s deep voice telling her that she owed them this, that they had gone through a lot of trouble ensuring she was to wed a prestigious “stud” such as Steven. And yes, he had used the word stud like she was some kind of breeding mare. “I never said I didn’t want to marry Steven, Madison.” You’ve thought it every single day or every single second since you were told you’d be strapped with him.

Madison gave her the look that said it was a bunch of bullshit, and then exhaled loudly. “No, you didn’t, but I know what you meant regardless.” Madison leaned forward and rested her hands on the table. She rubbed her fingers along the pearl bracelet, and it was clear to Bethany that her mind was otherwise occupied. “You need to think about your family, your status, and not so much about what you would get from it.”

Bethany stared at Madison, aghast. “Listen to yourself.”

Madison leaned back in her seat and gave her a pinched expression. “And what should I be listening to?”

At twenty-two, they both knew what Bethany was talking about. They had lived the same life, gone to the same private school and the identical uptight parties, and knew that status and reputation were everything. “You know what I mean, Madison. What about marrying someone because you’re in love and not because it will better the family, or for political reasons? What about not having to watch what you say, what you wear, and always having to act like you are living someone else’s life?”

Madison made a scoffing noise, and instead of answering right away lifted her hand and snapped her fingers for the waiter’s attention. A small man, with a perfectly-ironed black and white uniform, hands behind his back and nose in the air, stepped up to the table.

“Yes, Madame, how may I help you?”

“Please box up a dozen of these glazed scones.”

The waiter nodded, turned to Bethany, and when she shook her head that she didn’t want anything he disappeared toward the back of the restaurant.

Madison was staring at her again, and then exhaled, overly dramatic. “Listen, I totally see where you are coming from. You think I want to be straddled with some random guy, especially if he is old as hell?” She shrugged. “But we were born into this life, and because of that we have to abide by certain rules and standards. You know that.”

Bethany kept her mouth shut. She had been foolish to think expressing herself like this would have the desired effect. “Everything is just moving so fast. I’ve just barely graduated, hardly even started my life, and my father pulls this shit on me.” She closed her eyes and scrubbed her hand over them.

“You just need to go with the flow. At least you are going to marry Steven. Just be grateful on that part.”

“One of these days I might just leave, Madison.”

Madison rolled her eyes. She picked up her napkin and dotted the edges of her mouth. “Who’s being dramatic now? Besides, you and I both know you wouldn’t just leave. What would you do for money? Work? Your father has all the connection, and leaving when you are all set to marry Steven would not only be disastrous, but also stupid. You’d lose everything.”

What Madison didn’t know, or failed to really understand, was that Bethany didn’t care about money or power, or even about her social standing. She had gone to school to be a social worker, much to her father’s distaste. But her father, Robert Maximus Sterling, didn’t derive pleasure in things that helped him gain power, money, or increase his social standings. She had been born to the wrong family.

“Everything will be fine. You think people have to be madly in love to be married?” Madison flicked her hand between them. “I guarantee you’ll be gushing about how wonderful it is to be married to Steven not long after the wedding.”

“Doubtful.”

“Let’s go to Angelo’s and get our nails done.” Madison lifted her hand and stared at her already French manicured tips. And just like that, the conversation that had been very important to Bethany had ended as if it had never really begun.

Ten minutes later they left the restaurant, but Bethany wasn’t in the mood to get her nails done. With her wedding only months away she was feeling the strain and stress of everything weighing down on her. The wedding planner took care of almost everything, but the most pressing issue was the fact she didn’t know Steven. Being around him, speaking with him, even going on dates hadn’t allowed her to even know who he was. He talked shop a lot, something she heard enough of when she was at home. But there was something underneath Steven’s exterior, something that had the hairs on the back of her neck rising and her heart racing, but not in the good way.

It was like a sixth sense that rose up when he was around. She pushed the discomfort away, focused on her own life, and tried to tell herself that this would all work out in the end. Yes, she was an adult and made up her own mind when it concerned her life, but she was also frightened of what the future held. If things went downhill after the marriage would she be able to leave unscathed, and still have her family’s support? The latter, she was sure, wouldn’t be the case.

She climbed into her car, shut the door, and just sat there for several moments. What money she did have was courtesy of her father, and because she had just graduated it wasn’t like she had a steady income. God, she didn’t even have a job yet, and as much as her father tried to push her toward a profession that wouldn’t have her “eating boxed dinners,” she was tired of this regimen that controlled her entire life. She started the car and pulled out of the lot. Home didn’t even sound welcoming or warm anymore—if it ever had at all.

For the next twenty minutes she left the city of Sinnerstown behind. The irony of living in a town that was named after the corrupt and disgusting things she had seen her father and their associates do, all for the name of bettering their families, was not lost on her. The gated entryway that led up to her family’s estate loomed in front of her. She hadn’t always felt this way, not to this extent, at least. But Bethany had always felt this sort of hollowness as she moved with the tide and did what was expected of her.

She had considered herself a “sheep” or a “doormat” and because of that hated herself more than anyone could have ever known. Once she typed in the security code the gates opened to allow her entrance. She drove up the long driveway, past the security stationed throughout the property, and pulled to a stop in front of the doors.

“You either need to go through with this, or shut the hell up. All you’re doing is making yourself sick.” Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out and took in the sounds around her: people speaking just a few feet away, the sound of shears clipping away at hedges around the perimeter of the house, and even water trickling into the pond from the fountain. When she opened her eyes and lifted her head she was staring at the man that made her feel uncomfortable. In fact, the way he watched her was what she noticed first.

Abe Sparrow had been hired to watch over her father, but he looked at her as if he could read every personal thought in her head. He was darkly handsome, in a kind of way that made her feel nervous. His black hair was cropped short and his equally dark eyes always seemed trained on his surroundings. She wasn’t privy to her father’s affairs, and didn’t know the details and backgrounds of the security he hired.

But she had overheard talk that Abe was lethally trained, and not in the conventional way. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that he didn’t know how to kill a man with his bare hands and without remorse.

She was the one to break eye contact with him, but she still felt his gaze on her. Bethany grabbed her bag and climbed out, but she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze lifted and locked with his once more. God, even from a distance he was big and imposing, and the dark clothing he wore didn’t hide the fact that he was built like some kind of deadly machine.

“Bethany, sweetheart.”

She gritted her teeth when she heard Steven’s voice, and then saw his car parked a few feet away. Her thoughts had been so jumbled that she hadn’t even realized he was at the house. When she looked back at where Abe had been standing, she saw that he was no longer there.

“We were just talking about you.” Steven was right beside her now, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

A chill of discomfort filled her, but she forced a smile when she saw her father standing on the porch, watching them. “I didn’t know you’d be home.” She spoke to her father, and moved up the steps so she was right in front of him. Thank God Steven had let go of her, because his touch was akin to acid on her flesh.

“I leave this evening.” He spoke around his cigar.

The sickening sweet stench of it surrounded her, but she held in her cough.

“Steven is going with me to close the Browne account.”

She nodded, surprised that her father was bothering to tell her something work-related.

“In fact, Steven, you should just tell your fiancée now instead of waiting.” Her father grinned, but it wasn’t one of those loving, happy ones.

Bethany glanced at Steven, curious as to what would be so important that her father wanted her to know now.

“I’ve made partner, Bethany.” Steven grinned, and before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms and he was kissing her. But the feel of his lips on hers was cold and not the least bit arousing. He pulled away, his grin right back on his face, and turned to look at her father. “Soon I’ll be part of your family by marriage, and even closer by business.”

Of course she didn’t miss how he had classified the business as most important, because to men like Robert Sterling and Steven St. Gerrard, there was nothing more important than that.

CHAPTER TWO

APRIL 2014

The atmosphere of the party would have been nice if she could have gotten over why it was being held. It was just another gathering that flaunted the kind of money her father and mother had, for the people they associated with that were just as narcissistic as they were. Steven had one arm wrapped around her waist, and she had her other hand entwined with his as they danced. He was talking about the wedding, and the plans he had for them as if she didn’t have a say in anything. The few dates they had gone on alone had been less than memorable, and with Steven trying to accelerate a sexual relationship, and her continuously turning him down, she could see and feel his impatience and irritation. She glanced around the room and saw her mother in the corner with several of the other wives of her father’s business partners. Dressed in silk, with her ears, neck and wrists dripping with diamonds, her mother looked like some kind of queen amongst her subjects. She acted the part, too.

“You look especially gorgeous tonight, Bethany.”

She pulled her attention away from the crowd. They were the same height, so she was eye level with him. “Thank you, Steven.”

He smiled, but it didn’t look genuine. His short blond hair was impeccably styled, and the tux he wore looked and felt stiff. “You’ve been acting different the closer we get to the wedding. Are you nervous?”

She felt different, but it wasn’t nerves about her upcoming nuptials that made her feel that way. Of course she lied, and it came very easily. “Yes.” Pasting on a saccharine smile, she felt him start to slide his hand lower down her back and curve it over her ass. Something snapped inside of her as disgust settled over her. It was as if her body was acting on its own, and she didn’t know if she could contain or control how she reacted. Steven smiled widely and glanced around, and she knew without him saying anything that he was embarrassed by her refusal of his touch. When he put his attention on her once more a dark mask slowly started to seep through the false veneer of pleasantry that covered his face.

He took a step closer to her, smiled, and said in a low voice, “You’ll do well not to humiliate me in front of the guests, Bethany. This marriage and the image we have to uphold is very important. Joining my family and yours is what is best for everyone, and you continuously trying to pull away and not giving me what I need physically does nothing but make a scene and piss me off.”

She lifted her hand and said, “Please, Steven, not now.” His face grew red. “I’m not sure what that statement was all about, and what we do and don’t do in terms of being sexual together is not appropriate right now.” Her mind and body were telling her to leave, and as she glanced around the room, she realized she was so out of her element. Bethany had always felt this way, like she had been dropped into some kind of Twilight Zone, or into another woman’s body. Without saying anything else she turned and made her way quickly, but without making a scene, out of the room. She didn’t know where she was going, just that she needed some fresh air and to get away from the discomfort.

Moving past the security stationed at intervals throughout the house, she passed guests, priceless paintings and vases, and finally pushed open the backdoor that led out to the gardens. Tears were on the verge of spilling down her cheeks and as she breathed in the fresh, crisp air she didn’t stop them this time. The back patio was made of imported Italian stone, and the gardens in the distance were lit up with what looked like thousands of tiny lights. She walked across the patio, her heels clicking against the stone, and leaned against the rock wall. If she was a stronger person with a thicker backbone, she would have told her father and everyone else to shove this wedding up their asses. But honestly she was frightened, scared of what her life would be without her family, and of being alone. That is what she would be: alone in a world where she was at the mercy of everyone else. Her mother and father might not be the most loving people in the world, but she wanted to believe they did care for her. They had their cold and stiff attitudes, but Bethany could recall the more memorable times, and the smiles and praise they had given her when she had done something that pleased them, but there was also a part of her that knew those times had also been false, their attempts to mold her into the perfect daughter.

ABE STAYED IN THE SHADOWS, watching as the guests gorged themselves on caviar and champagne, laughed and danced. But it was all a perfectly-played façade. He stared at the object of his obsession, the one woman that he had already deemed his from the moment he’d first seen her. That motherfucker had his hands on her, had her body pulled close to his as they danced slowly. But even from this distance Abe could see how uncomfortable she was. His blood boiled and his heart pumped harder when he watched Steven lower his hand down the center of her back and curl it around her ass, but before Abe snapped, Bethany was slipping from Steven’s hold. As it was this had been a long year, almost too long, as he’d formulated his plan and made the specific requirements to ensure the end result that he’d envisioned. Some might say his mind was not his own if they knew what he was going to do tonight, and they would be correct. He knew he wasn’t sane, but he could play a part just like the rest of them; and never had he wanted anything with as strong an obsessive determination as he wanted Bethany. She looked angry, lifting her hand and pointing to stop Steven. It didn’t take more than a second or two for her to turn and leave him standing there alone and in the middle of the dance floor, and Abe could see the anger that morphed Steven’s face. He watched as Steven got control of himself, how the redness of his anger dissipated when a man and woman came up to him. He played the part well, like they all did, but Abe was trained to see subtle changes, and Steven was a bomb waiting to detonate. He slipped back into the shadows and turned to calculate the surroundings. The ledge beside him held the two champagne flutes, and in his pocket was the powder that would make it easy to take Bethany without struggle. He looked at the men stationed at intervals around the edge of the tree-line. A thick forest surrounded the property, and that was where he would slip through. When they did their synchronized change, the one that he, as head of security, had planned and mapped out for them, he would make his move. Everything was planned, articulated, and so far falling right into place.

He glanced at his watch and realized he had to pull this off very soon for it to go unnoticed. The next shift would be happening within half an hour, and would happen every half-hour after that. He turned his attention back to the glasses of alcohol and reached into his front pocket for the vial of white powder. He might know her every move, anticipate her stepping out of the house for fresh air like she did at every party that was held, but drugging her was a risk that had to be left up to chance.

BETHANY CLOSED her eyes and inhaled deeply, leaning against the patio banister. Despite still being able to hear the party just feet from her, she tried to place herself outside it all. When she opened her eyes she stared at the twinkling lights in the garden. Her vision was slightly blurry, and she realized it was because she was crying. She hated that, and anger at her own weakness slammed into her fast and hard. Wiping away the wetness, she told herself that one of these days she wouldn’t allow others to dictate her life. She realized that she could just leave right now. No one would stop her, not even security. She could just step off the patio and walk across the lawn. Walking into the woods that surrounded the house would be so easy. In fact, she had the strength at that moment to do it, to just leave everything behind and say fuck it all.

“A young woman shouldn’t be out by herself at night.”

The deep voice that came from behind her instantly had her hart racing and everything around her stilling. She knew, even before turning around, that it was Abe who had spoken. His voice was unusually gruff, with a slight huskiness to it that sent a tingle racing up her spine. He didn’t even have to be directly talking to her, and in fact never had said more than a few words specifically to her in the past year since he had been employed by her father. She turned around, but didn’t see him right away. It was only when he stepped away from the shadows that wrapped around the house that her palms started to sweat and her pulse increased. He wore black fatigues—like he always did—but it wasn’t the fact she knew he was lethal that had her on edge. There was something dark about him, something that had her fight-or-flight instinct rising whenever she was in his presence.

“I am probably the safest I will ever be on this property.” She could see the security stationed around the house, but none of them made her feel like a sheep amongst a predator—except Abe. It was a frightening and exhilarating experience.

“When you think you are the safest—feel the safest—that is when you’re not.” He stepped fully out of the shadows and she noticed he held two champagne flutes.

“Drinking alone?” She was nervous, and her voice stuttered slightly. When he didn’t answer she pointed to the glasses, as if to prove her point.

“Not anymore.” He moved closer to her and when he was only a foot away held out the champagne glass.

Bethany eyed it, and then shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not much of a drinker.” His expression didn’t change from its stoic level. But then she realized that she desperately needed a drink, and that spending this small amount of time with a man that she didn’t even know, but who made her feel alive, was not something she was going to pass up. “On second thought…” Reaching out and wrapping her hand around the stem, her fingers brushed along his. They were cool from the weather, but the heat she felt in her body from that small touch had beads of sweat lining the valley between her breasts. “Thank you.” Bringing the edge of the glass to her mouth, Bethany took a long sip. The liquid wasn’t chilled, but it was cool enough that the bubbles still tickled her throat.

“Easy,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice.

She lowered her glass after drinking half of it, and felt her cheeks heat that he had noticed her all but guzzling it. For several seconds neither said anything, but it wasn’t that stilted, uncomfortable silence that she found herself involved in when in the company of the people around her. Her body was hyper-aware of Abe’s close proximity, and it was as if she had no control over it. He watched her, but the way he looked at her was so penetrating, so observant, that she knew nothing passed him.

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked low and evenly. He had yet to drink any champagne, but still held onto his glass.

“Define enjoying.” She smiled, already feeling the bubbles from the champagne move through her body. The flutes didn’t hold much alcohol, but already she felt the effects. Still he said nothing, just moved to the side and set his glass on the ledge of the banister.

“You don’t seem like you are comfortable during these gatherings.” Hands at his side, but posture straight and sure, Abe looked like a man that could singlehandedly level an army. He was so much taller than her own five-foot-six. Maybe not by a foot, but tall enough that she would have to crane her neck back just to look in his face if he stepped any closer.

She shrugged. “No, I suppose I don’t.” Finishing off the rest of her champagne, she turned and set her glass beside his. “You’re not thirsty?” A tickling started at the base of her spine, and slowly moved upward. When she turned and faced him again, the world tilted, and she reached behind her to brace herself on the banister.

He didn’t respond. He took a step toward her, but she noticed that his gaze was trained behind her, scanning from left to right.

“What?” Had she heard him right? When he moved another step closer she inhaled deeply and caught the scent of something darkly spicy. But her head swam, and dizziness slammed into her. She curled her fingers into the stone beneath her and closed her eyes. “You don’t drink?” The words were thick and slow, and when she looked into his face, having to tilt her head back just to stare into his eyes, dread and a certain ease filled her. It was a freeing sensation when he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest. But that was a sick and twisted feeling, seeing as Abe had clearly drugged her, and that realization pumped through her veins every time her heart beat. Placing her hands on his chest, she tried to push him away, knowing that this wasn’t right—even if escaping in this kind of way felt better than the life she had been living. “What are you doing?” That was what she thought, at least, but the words came out slurred and unintelligible.

“Everything will be okay now, Bethany.” He held her tighter.

Her head felt too heavy, and she found herself resting it right over his heart—one that was beating slow and steady. And that was the last thing she realized before everything around her drifted away into comfortable nothingness.

CHAPTER THREE

MARCH 2014

Bethany stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It was late, going on eleven, but she had needed to go for a swim to clear her head. Her mother and father had wanted to have a small intimate dinner with just them, her and Steven, but once her father and Steven started smoking cigars and drinking brandy she had excused herself. That had been hours ago, though, and she thought it safe enough to venture back inside. Surely they wouldn’t still be talking about the wedding and the firm, and of course making all these plans that concerned her going back to school for law; and getting rid of the “silly notion” that she was going to do a less than prestigious career. But that was her father, so snobby and callous when it didn’t please him, and Steven was from the same mold.

Once she was dressed she stepped out of the pool house and saw that most of the lights were off in the house. How could she get on her feet when she couldn’t even find a job in the field she’d studied for? Shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts, she padded around the pool and into the house. Everything was still and quiet and the sound of a clock ticking in the background filled the air. She moved through the dark sunroom and into the dining room, but the sound of a gasp stopped her. She stood there for a second, listening to see if she had actually heard it, and then there it was, a low, female moan followed by a male groan. But just as quickly as she heard it the sound stopped. Taking a left into the servants’ quarters, she noticed the pantry door partially open and soft light coming from the cracks. There was another moan, and then a grunt, and despite Bethany knowing she should leave, she found herself moving closer to the door.

She moved to the side and away from the light, bracing her hand on the doorframe. The sight that she was greeted with sucked the air from her lungs. There was one of the maids against the shelving, with Steven pressed flush with her. His pants were down around his ankles, and the maid had her legs wrapped around his waist. He was fucking her, right there in the kitchen pantry, and they were set to wed in only a few months. Bethany stepped back and moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs to where her bedroom was. Once in the room she shut the door and leaned back against it. She wasn’t upset, wasn’t sad…in fact, she wasn’t much of anything. Her father had been caught being unfaithful, but her mother had turned the other way, more than once. Revealing this to her parents wouldn’t do anything in her favor, and certainly wouldn’t result in the wedding being called off. She needed out, needed to escape, and the longer she put it off the harder it would be in the end.

SHE HEARD waves crashing into the shore, ascending and then retreating back into the ocean just as quickly. That was the sensation inside of Bethany, and when she opened her eyes that feeling intensified with a big dose of vertigo. Before she could stop herself she rolled to the side and emptied the contents of her stomach, which wasn’t much. Dry heaves followed the vomiting, and when her abdominal muscles ached and her throat burned she rolled onto her back once more. She closed her eyes once more, trying to process why she was so sick. Had she drunk too much at the party? Something cool and wet touched her forehead and she jerked back, opening her eyes. But the room was dark, and her vision had yet to adjust to the loss of light. What she did notice was the large looming body right in front of her, the very male presence that came from the person, and the fact that fear was like a living entity inside of her.

“Where am I?” Her throat was raw and her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and moved further away from him. When a tugging at her foot stopped her retreat, her heart slammed hard against her ribs. With her eyes now adjusting to the shadows, she looked down and realized a chain was attached to her ankle and tethered to the bedpost. She swore she’d have a heart attack, judging by how fast her heart was beating. Sweat started to form along her brow, and her throat closed up further. “What’s going on?” The shadows concealed his face, and he reached out again with the washcloth. She smacked his hand away, and the rag fell, making a splat as it hit the floor. And then the adrenaline started moving through her faster, and everything rushed back to her as if a dam had been broken. The party, the champagne…Abe. “You drugged me.” It wasn’t a question, but he hadn’t said anything so far and she was growing alarmingly frightened with each passing second. The moon peeked out over the clouds and made a swatch of light in the room. It illuminated his face, and she realized he was watching her like a hawk must watch a mouse before swooping down and snatching it up in its razor-sharp claws.

He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, and she moved over as far against the wall as she could. “You’re frightened,” he stated with that calm, cold voice of his.

Bethany didn’t answer, just licked her lips and tried to understand why this was happening. “My family will come looking for me.”

“Yes, I am sure they will.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around the ankle that wasn’t restrained. His hold was unyielding, and even when she tried to kick at him all he did was tighten his hold on her. “Calm down, Bethany.”

Despite all of the fear that filled her, and the horrid images of what Abe might do to her that were running through her mind, she couldn’t deny that there was a calming quality to his voice. It didn’t ease her in any sense, but she stopped kicking because she knew fighting right now probably wasn’t in her best interest, at least not until she figured out why he had taken her in the first place.

“I’m sure you are wondering why I have you chained to this bed.” He moved his thumb back and forth along her ankle bone, and she knew she should have felt repulsed by his touch. Maybe it was the adrenaline that consumed her, numbing the logical response she should have in a situation like this. Of course she was scared to death, and could only picture the lewd and twisted things a man would do to a woman that he kidnapped, but right now all she could do was stare at him.

She didn’t bother replying that yes, she did wonder, and had asked him, because right now she didn’t think she could have formed a coherent word. He continued to rub at her foot, and then leaned in an inch closer. All of the attraction she had felt for him over the past year seemed so sick now, like she should have sensed something dark inside of him, like maybe he was capable of doing this.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said deeply, and his warm breath teased the hair that fell across her cheek.

“I find that hard to believe.” The words tumbled from her on their own, but it felt good to say them.

He exhaled loudly and removed his hand from around her ankle. “Yes, I suppose that is hard to believe.” He shifted on the bed so his back was to her and stared out the window. The thought of bludgeoning him came to mind, but with what, her hand? The chain wasn’t even long enough that she could pull her legs up to her chest and therefore wouldn’t give her enough slack to knock him out with it. God, what was she thinking? This man was built like a mountain. Even if she put all of her strength into hitting him—which at the moment wasn’t possible since whatever he’d used to drug her had made her groggy—it would probably feel like an annoyance to him.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Nothing hurt except her head from the drugs, but that didn’t mean he didn’t plan on harming her later.

He turned just his head so he could look at her. “Do you think I will hurt you?”

“Is that a trick question?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. This man was deadly, and in order to be head of security she knew he had to be lethal. For all she knew he had some sick desire to see her hurt, like a sadist looking to inflict pain because that was what got them off.

“No. I assure you I am being very serious, Bethany.”

She shouldn’t like the way he said her name, and she felt like some kind of sicko that a little tingle settled into the pit of her stomach because he had spoken her name almost soothingly.

“Now, if you want me to hurt you, because that is what you like…” He shifted on the bed once more so his upper body was facing her. “I can arrange that. I’m not a sadist, but seeing you in pleasure, no matter how you get there, will most certainly get me off.”

Oh, God.

She shook her head, feeling even more fear after he spoke. “You’re sick, a psycho.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and he reached out as if he meant to brush them from her cheeks. She smacked his hands away from her on instinct, and as soon as she heard her skin slap against his, dread filled her. But he didn’t hit her like she might have assumed, and instead watched her with an unwavering gaze.

“I’m a lot of things, Bethany.”

His words were so cryptic that she felt a chill claim her. “Please, Abe.” She didn’t know what she was begging him for, maybe to let her go, to take her back home, or even to explain why he had taken her in the first place. It was all of those things, but once again he didn’t answer. It was like this was some kind of mind game for him, like he enjoyed hearing her ask these questions knowing he had no intention of answering any of them.

“You wouldn’t like the answer I give, Bethany.”

She didn’t respond, but stared at him like he was doing to her.

“I’ll make you something to eat to help get rid of the drugs in your system.” He stood and made his way toward the door. Once he left and shut it behind him, she finally looked around. The room was pretty bare, with only the bed she was on, a small dresser, and the window right across from her. All she could see out of the window was a thick forest. How close was she to her parents’ home? Was she even in California still? God, there were so many questions that she needed answers for, but it was too soon to wonder about the whys of it all. What she needed to focus on was how to get out of this mess. In the end it really didn’t matter why he had taken her, because the fact was he had taken her regardless. There would be a lot of reasons why he did what he did: blackmailing, ransom, or maybe just because he was a sick fuck. To think she had found him attractive made her feel ill, but what was worse was the fact that she still found him attractive. Maybe she was the sick one.

Bethany moved toward the edge of the bed and threw one of her legs over the side. Her foot dangled before she slid further forward, but the chain only gave her enough room to slightly bend her knee. The wood floor was frigid on her bare foot, and she realized for the first time that she wasn’t in the evening gown she had been wearing at the party. Now she had on a pair of plain sweats and a t-shirt—both fitting her perfectly. That realization was more unnerving than the fact that he had actually undressed her and put her in these new garments like she was some kind of doll. She still had on her underwear, but she hadn’t been wearing a bra, and she covered her breasts with her forearm. It was a bit late for that, but she felt so naked at the moment, despite being fully clothed. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the cold chain. After giving it a hard tug, she realized it wasn’t attached to the bed’s frame like she had assumed, but bolted to the wall right beside it. As soon as she let go of the chain the bedroom door opened. Abe stood in the doorway with a plate in one hand and a bottle of water under his arm.

He stared at her, and then looked at the chain. “You won’t be able to escape, but if you’re good I’ll give you more room to move around.” He took a step further into the room, but she was frozen in place. When he was right in front of her she tilted her head back and stared into his partially shadowed face. “And over time I have no doubt that you will come to realize that being with me is the best thing for you.” He leaned in and she snapped to focus.

“I’ll never realize this is best for me.”

He set the plate and bottle of water on the bed. He was bent, and looked over at her by just lifting his gaze. “You will, Bethany.” When he straightened he didn’t leave right away. The way he watched her was so damn unnerving that she found herself shifting on the bed continuously, trying to break free from the way he made her feel even though she knew there was no escape.

“I’ll come back in a little while and check on you to make sure you ate everything.”

She glanced down at the plate and saw that it was plain toast and what looked like cottage cheese and fruit. Her stomach roiled, but the emotion stronger than that was the fact this was the same breakfast she ate every morning—when she ate breakfast, that is. “You’ve been watching me.” It obviously seemed like a ludicrous statement, given the fact he was her father’s personal bodyguard, but, as with all the security her father hired, they were meant to not be seen. It seemed ridiculous that her father had made that “rule,” but she assumed it was because he was vain, and having anyone follow him around, even if to protect his life, would somehow cramp his appearance. She thought Abe might stay silent like he had done at every turn, but he surprised and frightened her with his answer.

“Yes, I have been watching you. For the last year I’ve seen everything you’ve done, learned your routine, and what you like and dislike. I know about the money you have in your bank account, that you are proud of that because you earned it and it wasn’t given to you by daddy.”

She had no response to that, but he didn’t let the silence stretch for more than a few seconds anyway.

“I’ve planned this moment for a very long time, Bethany.”

“But why?” Again, she said it on a whisper. This whole situation was surreal, or maybe more akin to a nightmare.

“Because I wanted you. Simple as that. I’ve made sure that even if they come looking for you it will be a lost cause, but what I have done is ensure that your future is set in stone…with me.”

“You’re sick.” He didn’t respond for several seconds, and she noticed the way his jaw clenched.

“I am many things, have done many things that some find questionable, but sick is not one of them.”

“Says who? You?” She started breathing heavily, more rapidly, and her head grew dizzy. “You took me, probably are going to rape and then kill me.” Tears now threatened to spill once again, but she wanted to be stronger. “You have me bound, like some kind of prisoner.”

“I like seeing you bound, and like that you’re mine.” He reached out and ran his finger along the chain that held her captive. “I like knowing that I could do whatever I liked, and there is nothing you could do to stop me.” He looked back at her, but his expression was still stoic.

“You’re going to rape me.” She didn’t phrase it like a question.

“No, Bethany. I am not a rapist—”

“No? I guess kidnapping and keeping a woman against her will isn’t nearly as bad as raping her.” A low sound came from him and she pressed her back against the wall. She needed to think about what going against him could cost her. What she needed to do was keep her mouth shut, or maybe play along until she could figure out how to get out of this mess. What she did not need to do was bait him, argue, or put herself further in danger. She’d had enough of that already, and she had been awake for less than an hour.

“I’ll tell you what will happen.” He started running his finger along the chain again, brushing slightly over the bone of her ankle until goose bumps popped out along her body.

She hated that she seemed to have no control over her reactions, that even though she hated this man for what he had done, she still found him attractive. It was as if her body didn’t care that she was chained up like some kind of animal. It wanted him in the worst way, and because of that she hated herself.

“You’ll grow to accept that what has happened was meant to be, that you being here is what you truly want.” He was so fast that before she knew what was happening he had her chin held tightly, almost painfully, between his finger and thumb. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bethany.” He lowered his gaze to her mouth. “In fact, I want to please you, give you everything you want.” She thought he would kiss her after he spoke, but instead he lifted his gaze back to her eyes. “You and I are one and the same. You are not like those people that walk around living in a shell and trying to be something they are not.”

Bethany didn’t bother correcting him that she had, in fact, played a part her entire life. She had worn a façade, acted the way everyone expected her to in order to survive. “Isn’t that human nature?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was too late.

He stared into her eyes for several long seconds, and with the darkness all around them she felt as if the oblique hardness of his gaze was swallowing her up. “Human nature is to survive. There is no survival in how you lived, or in the saccharine waste that your father and everyone that associated with him surrounded themselves in.” He pulled back slightly, but still held her chin. “You are not like that, Bethany. I could tell that as soon as I saw you, and that was when I realized you and I are the same. You try and hide what you want, even stay where you are unhappy because that is all you know.” He slowly shook his head. “There is so much more, and I am going to show that to you.” He moved his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip, and she exhaled as a shiver of awareness slammed into her. “And I’ll tell you something else, Bethany. You act like this chain disgusts you, and that you want to be free.” He leaned forward again so their lips barely touched. She was frightened, should have moved away, but she found herself holding her breath, waiting to hear what he would say next. “But deep down you like being bound, like the stability that it causes within you, even if you don’t realize or admit it right now.” With every word he spoke, his lips brushed ever-so-slightly against hers. Her stomach cramped and tears streamed down her cheeks. “And there will be a time—very, very soon—that you will beg me to fuck you while restrained.” He pulled away and let go of her chin so fast that she sucked in a lungful of air.

Vision blurry from her tears, she shook her head, not able to tell him that he was wrong. “Never.” She had wanted him before this, was drawn to the authority and dominance that came from him, but now she just wanted out. For the first time since she had seen him Abe grinned in response. But it wasn’t a smile that told her everything would be okay. It was a smile that told her he knew what she said was a lie. She’d said that one word with honest conviction.

He turned and headed toward the door, but before he left he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’m going to be very disappointed if you haven’t eaten by the time I come back in here.” And with that he left her alone once more.

After a few minutes she heard the sound of water moving through pipes, and knew he must be taking a shower. What time was it? Had she been in this place for more than a few hours? She supposed it was possible since she had been drugged, but she doubted it. Most likely it was the same night, which would mean it was very late. Bethany looked at the food, felt her stomach cramp at the thought of eating anything, but knew she had probably pushed him as far as he was willing to go tonight. This was about surviving, and she wasn’t about to be another victim—and least not in the figurative sense. Pulling on the chain once more, she exhaled and forced her tears to stop. Her throat was so damn dry, and she figured the water was a safe place to start. At least it was sealed, but then again she figured he would have no need to drug her by putting it in food. She was his captive, and like he said, could do whatever he wanted to her.

After drinking half the bottle, but having to stop several times because she was swallowing too fast, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She picked up the piece of toast, smelled it, turned it around, and finally took a bite. After she had half of that finished she did start to feel less nauseous, and so she went for the fruit and cottage cheese. Twenty minutes later she had eaten a good portion of the food, finished off the water, and didn’t feel as lightheaded as she had earlier. But she just wanted to sleep, curl up into a little ball and pretend none of this was happening. And on the heels of that thought she asked herself if she had really been better off at home. Sure, she hadn’t been a prisoner per se with her family, not in the chain-and-locks kind of way, but she had been a prisoner nonetheless. Just thinking about going back to the parties, the aristocratic bullshit, and people acting like they cared about her when they really didn’t, seemed like a nightmare. But wasn’t this a nightmare, too?

Her head started pounding and she closed her eyes. Suddenly she was exhausted, but it didn’t have to do with the fact it was late, or that she was in this very scary and bizarre situation. Bethany lay down on her side, and moved so her back was flush with the cold wall. Curling into a ball and reaching down for the blanket, all she wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about everything. With the blanket up to her chin and her gaze on the door, she heard the water shut off in the next room, and prayed he would leave her alone for the rest of the night. Maybe this was just a very bad dream. But even if it was and she woke up in her bed at the estate, she would still be living a nightmare.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FOLLOWING DAY Bethany sat on the couch in the cabin’s living room and watched Abe in the kitchen just a few feet away. This whole thing felt strange, like some kind of sick and demented version of playing house. He was fixing her lunch, and while he was occupied she took in her surroundings. This morning he had unchained her from the wall only to take her to the bathroom and chain her back up. There she had been able to take a shower, use the bathroom, and brush her teeth. He had all of the products she used, and even though she found that unnerving and creepy, she was thankful to have these things from her former life—albeit a life that she didn’t even like. But those products were ones she had picked out, lavender and honey scented shampoo and condition, lotion and deodorant. They were not fancy or expensive, and her parents hadn’t gotten them for her. But that had been hours ago, and once more she was in a fresh set of sweats and a t-shirt, clean underwear, and still no bra.

The whole house seemed constructed—internally at least—specifically to keep someone inside. The windows weren’t barred, but there were locks that looked a little more heavy duty than normal. The front door was also not the standard one she would have assumed she’d see in a cabin, and there seemed to be metal plates stationed throughout the house with rings to attach her ankle chain to.

“You like pasta?” Abe asked without turning and looking at her.

She could smell the tomato sauce and garlic, and even the butter on the bread he had just baked. “I’m not very hungry.” That was a lie, and her stomach chose that moment to growl, as if calling her out on it. Abe turned and looked at her over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was so penetrating that it was as if he had roared out loud he knew she was a fucking liar. He turned back around, and she looked at the fireplace. There wasn’t one going, but she could smell the remnants of a fire that had recently burned there. A crisp, smoky scent filled her nose, and she knew that from this moment on she wouldn’t be able to smell that aroma without associating it with this experience. She heard Abe approach and moved toward the edge of the couch, pressing herself to the arm while she kept her gaze on him. He held two plates, one in each hand, and set them on the coffee table beside them. He sat on the couch beside her, and although there was space separating them, she wanted to put more between them.

“Here, eat something.” He pushed a plate of spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread her way. He stood and went back into the kitchen, and when he returned it was to give her a glass of water. “You hardly ate anything this morning and the more you take in the more you’ll get rid of the drug in your system.”

She felt fine, but she had taken courses on drug counseling, addiction, and dependency in college, and knew that despite the feeling of being physically okay, what he had given her was still in her body. Bethany grabbed the water and drank some before putting the glass back on the table. The food did smell good, but she wanted to know what this was all about.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know as soon as you eat something.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

She watched as he picked up his fork and started eating. He looked intimidating even when he was just sitting there. Once again he was in black clothing: dark t-shirt, cargo pants, and dark boots.

“Eat, Bethany.” His voice went harder.

She looked down at her food for a second before reaching out and picking up her fork. She could use the metal utensil as a weapon, could turn and stab the prongs into his neck and watch as he died. But even thinking about doing that left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn’t a killer, but then again people did drastic things during drastic times.

Abe kept his head forward, but she saw that his gaze was on her hand. “And if you think about stabbing me with that, know that I am not against the idea of tying up your hands and feet and leaving you in the room until you realize that the only person you’re hurting is yourself.” He lifted his gaze so he was staring her right in the eye. “And you would be hurting yourself, Bethany. I am not the enemy here, even if that is too hard to believe right now.” He chewed slowly as he watched her, and then turned back toward his food.

She tugged on her leg, causing the chain to rattle. He didn’t turn her way again, but she saw the way his jaw clenched, which had nothing to do with the fact that he was chewing. But she turned her fork in a circle on the plate and collected the noddle, then brought it to her mouth. Who knew he could cook so well? The bastard. The last thing she wanted was to be grateful for anything because of this man. But she kept her mouth shut, didn’t fight him anymore right now, and ate as much as she could. She pushed the plate away when she was finished, leaned back on the couch, and kept her gaze on him. He had finished a few minutes before her, and she had been very aware that Abe had watched her while she ate. But Bethany wasn’t about to let him unnerve her, at least not any more than he already was. He turned so he could see her, and for several seconds all they did was stare at each other. Could he hear her heart beating so fast? It certainly felt like it would burst through her chest.

“So, ask, Bethany.”

The room grew still and quiet and she hated that he could look so unaffected. Why are you surprised? He wasn’t the one chained up like a rabid dog, and in fact this little situation was probably his disgusting fantasy. “Why did you do it?” That seemed like the safest question to ask first.

“I told you. I saw you, wanted you, and so I took you.”

God, he said it so icily that goose bumps rose on her arms. “You took me because you wanted me?” It was a straightforward answer, but it still didn’t make any sense.

“Yes.”

“But you’re my father’s head of security. He trusted you with his life.”

The sound of him grinding his teeth was overly loud in the room. “He is still alive, isn’t he? He was never harmed while in my protection, never so much as threatened.” His voice went lower, deeper, and she knew this was a conversation that was steering away from what they should be talking about.

“What do you plan on doing with me?” She hated asking that question because she almost didn’t want to know what he was going to say.

“This is what I plan on doing with you.” He leaned back on the couch and didn’t say anything after that for several seconds.

Bethany felt everything in her body grow cold and numb by his statement. “Your plan is to keep me locked away in this cabin?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I have planned.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “That is my plan for the time being.” He held her gaze with his own penetrating one. “Until I can trust you.”

“And then what?” Her pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.

“And then we’ll start our life together.”

She shook her head, but it was more of an automatic response than her responding to his statement. “I don’t want you. I don’t want any of this.” The last part was a gasp of air and words.

“You do.” He didn’t crack a smile, didn’t show any emotion, for that matter.

Bethany didn’t bother arguing that point, and instead decided on what she wanted to ask him next. “You said you wouldn’t rape me.” She stated it point-blank, and when she looked at him it was to see him nod once again. God, she wished she could read him, but he was as hard and cold as stone.

“I don’t rape women.”

“My family will come looking for me, and they’ll find me.” Bethany swallowed. She felt like she was just repeating herself, but when he would barely give her a straight answer she had nothing else to go on. “You know they have money, and they won’t stop until I’m found.” Sitting up straighter gave her the semblance of being stronger, but she felt weak inside. “Steven has money, and I’m set to wed in a few months.” At her words, a very dark cloud seemed to settle over him, and the room suddenly felt much colder. She knew she should just stop.

“I’m going to tell you who and what I am, and that even if they did find you, I wouldn’t let them have you.”

Everything inside of Bethany was at a standstill. God-awful thoughts of what secrets he held filled her mind.

“I was born to nothing, and grew up with nothing. When I was found in a dirty back alley behind a known whorehouse and asked to channel my energy to something else, I took the opportunity.” There was a sliver of emotion in his voice, but it was rage. “My mother was a whore herself, and my father the man that raped her. To say my mother loathed me and where I came from was an understatement. I was a burden to her, a reminder of the filthy life she lived, and the consequences of the path she had chosen.” He leaned in close, and Bethany felt her eyes grow wider. “When I say I don’t, and would never rape a woman, I mean just that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t urge you to open your eyes and see what is right in front of you.”

Bethany didn’t know what to say, because although she didn’t want to sympathize with the man holding her prisoner, she also was human, and could only imagine the kind of life and anguish a child born into that life would have led.

“I was trained by some men that others would consider very bad, conditioned and sculpted to not let my emotions come into play, and to handle their business.”

“And what business is that?”

He didn’t respond right away, but stared at her with his cold, calculating gaze. “This world will eat you up, Bethany, without even caring.” He reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair away. “I know what it is to feel like you were born to strangers, to live in a world that didn’t want you. I fought every day of my life to survive, saw death, violence, drugs and abuse the likes I will never want you to see.” He was opening up to her, showing her a side the past year had never revealed. This man had a lot of hidden things, been scarred in ways she would never even know. “Will I tell you I’m a good man?”

His eyes were so dark, so frigid and real. She loved and hated this attraction, but still found herself staring at him, looking at every curve and dip of his muscles, the way his short dark hair barely touched his forehead, and his square jaw that seemed so masculine. This man was so lethal in more than just the killing kind of way.

“No, I won’t because I’m not a good man, Bethany. In fact, I am the furthest thing from a good man as they come.”

“But I’m not yours. If you would have talked to me, maybe we could have started a relationship—”

He shook his head, stopping her from finishing her sentence. “Do I look like the traditional type of man that goes and asks women out on dates, smokes cigars and drinks scotch with their fathers?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, almost in a mocking manner. “I am a trained killer, Bethany, and I’ll keep telling you that until you fully realize the man that you are sitting in front of right now has already claimed you as his.”

She brushed a stray tear away, not knowing why she was crying. Her own emotions were wild and crazy. “No. I’ll never be a man’s that has to resort to this—”

And then he was on her before she could even grasp what in the hell he was doing. He used his upper body to press her back to the couch, and used the surprise of his attack to wedge his hips between her thighs. She parted her lips and screamed out, but he slapped a hand over her mouth. Bethany sucked in air through her nose, in and out, faster and faster until stars started to dance in front of her vision. “Calm down.”

She blinked the stars away, knowing she needed to focus because passing out while he was on top of her and clearly aroused was a frightening thought.

“No one can hear you, Bethany, so screaming is pointless.” He let those words sink in before continuing. “I’m going to remove my hand, and you’re not going to scream, okay?” Although he did phrase it like a question, she knew it wasn’t an option.

She nodded, and he slowly removed his hand. “If no one can hear me, than why stop me?” She was still breathing hard, but the need to pass out had subsided.

“Because I don’t like the sound of it.” He leaned in close and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. When their lips were only an inch apart she turned her head, but he must have anticipated the move because he gripped her chin and forced her head back so she was looking at him again. He ground his erection into her and she hated that her body started to warm. His dick was pressed right up against her pussy, and even with layers of clothing separating them she swore she could feel how big and long he was.

“Please, don’t do this.”

He ground harder into her, rotating his hips so he rubbed her clit, and hot tears spilled out of her eyes. “You like it, even though you’re crying, Bethany.”

She hated that he was right, wanted to destroy her traitorous body for becoming warm and wet, and so damn pliant under him. He pulled back just enough to look at her chest. With no bra on, her nipples stabbed through the thin material. She was humiliated, horrified, and started crying harder because her pussy grew wetter at the gentle yet persistent thrusting of his hips between her legs.

“I bet if I touched your cunt right now you’d be so damn wet for me.” He slowly lifted his gaze from her breasts to her face again. And then like the bastard he was, he slipped his hand between her thighs and pressed the material right on her moist panties. He leaned in close to her ear, pushed a piece of her hair away, and said, “I knew you’d be wet.” He started rubbing his hand in slow circles over her. “I knew you were waiting for someone to come and open you up, take you away from the world that you don’t belong in.” He applied just a little bit of pressure and she felt tendrils of an orgasm rising violently to the surface. “I know if I kept this up you’d come undone for me right now, wouldn’t you?” He continued to rub her clit until she knew that if he didn’t stop the orgasm that she didn’t want to have—at least she told herself that over and over again—would steal her and somehow make this seem okay. Bethany didn’t want to just roll over and surrender to him.

Snapping out of the haze of pleasure that was slowly starting to move through her, she pushed at his chest at the same time she brought up the unrestrained leg and was able to push him off. He had to be off his guard, or thought she wouldn’t try anything, because she was able to get him off a little too easily. But then she was still in the same situation of not being able to leave because of the damn chain. Everything seemed to happen so fast that she just reacted. Bethany grabbed her fork, and using all of her strength, flung herself at Abe, who was half on the couch and on the floor. But he was strong and grabbed her right before she could plunge the fork into his chest. Everything seemed to happen in the next fast, confusing and frightening seconds. He still held her wrist, but using his other hand gripped the edge of the coffee table and overturned it. The piece of furniture crashed against the fireplace, and a startled cry left her. He had her back on the couch in a matter of seconds. The low, fierce, feral, and purely enraged sound that left him had her thrashing harder.

“I don’t care that you had a fucked-up life.” Bethany pushed at his chest, struggling to keep the fork in her hand, but in the end the utensil clattered to the wooden floor. He had her arms above her head in seconds flat, and then pinned together with one of his hands, and moved in so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. “I don’t fucking want you, Abe. I just want to go.”

“Go back home?” he yelled out, so loudly she winced. “You want to go back to that fucking mansion, where you’re ignored, sold off like a piece of cattle to the man with the most money, and dressed and primped because if you look anything less than perfect you got reprimanded like a stray fucking dog?” The anger on his face was so scary that she shrunk back into the couch. His nostrils flared, and his chest rose and fell, and then just as quickly as he had been on her, he was off and walking toward the front door.

Bethany pushed herself up just enough that she could see him over the back of the couch. His body was stiff, and he held the doorknob without turning it. It seemed like minutes passed by before he turned the knob and took a step forward. The wind blew by with enough force that she felt it all the way where she was.

“I’ll be back.” He looked over his shoulder, and after staring at her for a second, turned back around and walked out. He didn’t slam the door behind him, and as she listened to him descend down the porch steps, she wondered how long he would be gone. Panic started to set in that maybe he was so angry he was going to leave her here, but she couldn’t freak out right now. He had left her alone, and she needed to try and find a way out. Would she run back home and stay in that situation, and marry Steven like nothing was wrong? No, this experience—even after only one day—showed her that she couldn’t take life for granted.

CHAPTER FIVE

ABE HAD LEFT her alone for the last hour, had walked the perimeter of the property he had bought years ago, and tried to control himself. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he was enraged by her lack of understanding that he had done this to help her. A part of him understood the fact that she was frightened, plucked from her home—even one she loathed—taken by a stranger. But that part didn’t have feelings, didn’t understand why she didn’t feel freedom from being gone. He might not empathize with her, but he did care about her in his own twisted way. Was he obsessed, possessive, and feeling proprietary of her? Yes, he really fucking was.

He grabbed a cigarette and lighter from the back of his pocket, put it between his lips, and lit the end. He only smoked on occasion, but right now he was pissed over how everything was playing out. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as forcefully. The sound of birds chirping in the treetops, of animals scurrying along the foliage, and of the wind moving through the branches filled his head. They were deep in the woods, despite being still in city limits. He would have preferred to take her far away from her former life, but this cabin had worked out perfectly for his plans. Later he would take her far away to a place where they could be together and not worry about any of this. He inhaled again and moved over to one of the trees. Leaning against it and letting the sounds of nature and isolation surround him did a lot to ease the annoyance and anger running high inside of him. He turned just his head to the left and stared at the cabin. He was a good distance from the house, and even though he could see the living room window, and knew she was right behind it, he couldn’t see her. There was no doubt that she was probably trying to escape, but she’d learn soon enough that she was his. He knew these woods better than she knew the home that had been her prison for far too long.

He pushed away from the tree and fully faced the cabin. Her family had most likely called the police now, but what she didn’t know yet was that he had packed her bag before he had taken her away. To authorities it might appear like she had fled, and had escaped her arranged marriage. She was an adult, had been miserable in her life, and he knew for a fact she had discussed her worries about marrying that motherfucker. His anger was spiking once more at the thought of that asshole, of the man that had meant to take her away from Abe. He snubbed the end of his cigarette on the bottom of his boot and flicked it away. Rage boiled in his blood at the thought of Bethany with another man, of someone else touching her, kissing her, and owning her body. He had wanted to let her take time to get used to what he had planned for her, but just thinking about whom she was supposed to marry had this beast moving through him. He took a step forward, stopped and closed his eyes, and then turned around. Trying to grapple with his control was a feat for a stronger man, but he didn’t want to frighten her any more than necessary. Without thinking, and continuing to feel a hard pulse of angry energy moving through him, he reared his arm back and slammed his hand into the side of the tree he had just been leaning against.

Pain exploded in his knuckles, but he welcomed it. When he looked down at his hand and saw the skin split open and blood covering his flesh, he felt a semblance of calm move through him. He turned back around and moved quickly toward the cabin. He was going to condition Bethany into realizing her fate sooner rather than later.

BETHANY HAD her hand wrapped around the chain, and used all of her strength to pull at it. Although she knew she wasn’t going to make any progress in her release, she couldn’t consciously sit here and wait for Abe to return. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her vision became blurry. Her hands ached and burned as she tightened them on the metal and pulled hard enough that the muscles in her arms strained.

“Please, God. Please just let me get out of this.” She hated that Abe knew how much she had hated her life, and loathed that she was aroused at his touches. This had to be some kind of mental defect on her part, because who in their right mind would like their captor’s touch? The sound of heavy footsteps on the porch right outside of the front door had her dropping the chain and turning around. She pressed her back to the wall, felt her heart start to pound fast and hard right behind her ribs, and feared what Abe would do. He had been so angry with her, and surely his short stint away hadn’t calmed him down that much.

The door seemed to crash inward as if the force of a mighty storm had crumbled it. But then there stood Abe, staring right at her with this anger that swirled around him like a living entity. He stepped inside, slammed the door shut behind him, but didn’t come toward her like she feared. He turned and went into the kitchen, grabbed a rag, and turned back around toward her. She saw now that his hand was bloody and swollen, with crimson drops falling to the floor. She swore she could feel his anger, and hear the rush of blood that pumped through his veins because of his rising emotions. But she didn’t speak, didn’t even move for fear of drawing his attention even more toward her. That sounded so silly, though, since he stared right at her, and she was currently chained to his wall. But then as they stared at one another for several long seconds, she actually felt this cord that was between them snap right in half.

He stalked toward her in angry, hard steps, but she was frozen in place, unable to move, let alone breathe. He wrapped the towel around his hand, and faster then she could even comprehend he reached down with his uninjured hand, wrapped it around her throat, and hauled her up. His hold was unyielding, but not tight enough that she couldn’t breathe. That didn’t stop her from clawing at his hand and trying to scream.

He leaned in close, bared his teeth, and she swore his anger surrounded her as well. “Go ahead and scream. I want you to realize that this is your life now, your fucking reality, Bethany.” He leaned in another inch and ran the tip of his nose along the side of her face. His breath was warm right by her ear, and she closed her eyes and stopped struggling. She tried to tell herself that playing along was possibly the only thing that could save her life.

“Abe…” She said his name softly, hoping that there was an empathetic part in his cold, hard body. She felt him tense against her.

“Say it again, Bethany. Say my name again,” he whispered into her ear.

She needed to use his emotions against him. That was the only way she could get out of this alive. “Abe.” It should have been harder to say his name, and harder still to press her body up against his. But it wasn’t, and she hated herself and him even more because of it. He was hard for her, and the product of his arousal was pressed right against her belly. She grew wet and, as much as she loathed her desires, she also knew that it would make all of this more convincing to him. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

He leaned back, gripped her throat a little tighter, and she knew that whatever she had been trying to accomplish here had left. His cold, dark eyes grew hard and unyielding. She thought he might kiss her in an angry, hateful way, but instead he placed his hand on her shoulder. He exerted pressure until she was forced to lower herself to her knees. The tears started up, but she didn’t know if she was crying because she was afraid of what he was about to make her do, or if she hated that she wanted it.

Using his hand that wasn’t injured, he undid the buckle of his belt, popped the button out of its hole, and slid the zipper down. Her mouth instantly went dry and her pulse filled her ears in a hard, frightened rhythm. It was erotic and sick the way he pulled his erection and gripped the base. He was so hard, so big, and he aimed the tip right at her mouth This felt cheap, but that didn’t stop her from getting even more turned on in a very demented way. Before he did anything else he reached out and brushed her tears away.

“Open your mouth, Bethany.” He said it without a hint of remorse, but then again he knew she would have to comply. She was, after all, at his mercy. “And if you bite me you won’t like the consequences.” He lifted his hand and ran the tip of his thumb over her bottom lip. She could smell the blood that soaked the rag covering his wounds, but she continued to stare at him, refusing to break eye contact.

“I said open that pretty mouth of yours and suck it, Bethany.” He moved an inch closer until she could smell his flesh and the scent of soap and sweat. It was an erotic combination of frightening proportions. She glanced down at his erection, and she felt her throat constrict at his large size. “Please, you’re scaring me.” What she left out was that she was aroused, too. Lifting her gaze to his face once more, she saw his stony composure.

“Good.” He leaned down until she felt his breath along her face. “I want you to be afraid. I want you to realize that I am the only person that you will ever see again.” He said it so calmly, so dark and low that she knew without a doubt that this was her fate.

She didn’t know what to say in response, so instead she slowly lifted her hands and braced them on his strong, muscular thighs. She felt his muscles bunch and clench under her touch. Taking a deep and hopefully steadying breath, she leaned in further until a sheet of paper couldn’t even fit between her mouth and his cock. “I’ll disappoint you,” she said, but didn’t look into his face. She was playing with his feelings for her, but she also meant the words. What if he didn’t like what she did to him? What if he realized that she was of no use to him because she couldn’t pleasure him?

Dig deep inside of you, Bethany. Find that pleasure that he brings out in you, the one that you don’t want, and use it to survive.

“Oh, you’ll pleasure me just fine, Bethany.” He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, and just having you on your knees before me makes me fucking hard.” He slipped his hand in her hair, grabbed a chunk of the heavy mass, and yanked her head back hard enough that she gasped in pain, but also in pleasure. “I guide your actions. Now, suck my cock, Bethany.” He pulled her head forward until the slick tip of his shaft moved along her lips, and then she opened her mouth and sucked the head inside.

A low sound left her, almost sounding needy as the flavor of his pre-cum bathed her tongue.

“Yes, that’s so very good, Bethany.” He sounded breathless and tightened his hold on her hair until pain and pleasure waged war inside of her. “Now move your tongue around.” She did as he said, and another gush of pre-cum filled her mouth.

She breathed hard and fast through her nose and gripped his thighs until she was digging her nails into him.

“Lick the underside of my cock, and reach underneath to cup my balls.”

She flattened her tongue and did as he said, and when she cupped his balls in one of her hands there was a surge of pleasure and strength that filled her. He groaned above her, and she knew she did have power over this man—this monster. She continued to suck him in and out, but he was far too thick and long for her to take completely into her mouth.

“Lick me, Bethany.” He tugged on her hair until she was forced to release him. She licked the underside of his cock, and couldn’t stop the moan that came from her. All she wanted was to please him in this moment, because making him feel good meant he would see her as something more than the girl chained up in his living room. At least she hoped so, and for some fucked-up reason, pleasing him made her feel good, too.

Letting her mouth do the work, she started sucking him with a passion. She closed her eyes, got lost in the moment, and didn’t let herself feel the heavy chain around her ankle that kept her his prisoner. She took hold of the root of his dick with her hand, and stroked what she couldn’t reach with her mouth.

“Christ, that’s it. Suck me until I come, baby.” He groaned louder this time. “Suck me until you have no choice but to swallow my cum.” He still had his hand in her hair, and kept her head stationary as he moved in and out of her mouth. He was now the one fucking her, pushing his cock deep until it hit the back of her throat, and then retreating until just the head was lodged between her lips. Looking up at him as he moved in and out of her, she saw his attention was on her mouth.

“If you could see what I see.” He picked up speed until tears moved in the corner of her eyes and her arousal grew. “You should see how stretched your mouth is around my fucking cock.” He increased his speed until the tip of his erection slammed against the back of her throat. “Christ, baby, that’s it.” He tilted his head back. “You take me so well. You were made for me.” He was always so hard and stoic, but right now he was wide open for her, and she swore she could see into his soul.

A deep groan left him and then he was coming in her mouth. Bethany didn’t even think. She just closed her eyes and swallowed every last drop. He kept her stationary with his hold on her hair. He stopped thrusting in and out of her mouth, and she felt his cock start to soften. He took a step back, slipping from her mouth, and she stayed on her knees and stared up at him.

Once he put his softening cock back into his pants he helped her to stand, and speared a hand back into her hair. He claimed her mouth, pushed his tongue inside and kissed her like a dying man. She had no choice but to accept his domination, but that dark and twisted part of her wanted all of it. He pulled away and she stumbled back, bracing her hands on the wall behind her. She wanted to claw at his face, wipe that stoic expression away until he felt as raw and open as she did. He was a bastard in the worst kind of way, but she was no better than he was, it seemed.

CHAPTER SIX

“I WANT to show you something.” Abe moved forward and dropped to his haunches before her to undo the lock that kept her hostage at the wall. With his hand holding the end of the chain, he stood and turned from her. She glanced at the door, but she had to stay with the act of caring for him. If she wanted to gain his trust so that he let her roam freely, then she had to continue to play the part. Without thinking, she reached out and took hold of his hand that was still wrapped in the rag. He stopped and looked down at where she held him, and then lifted his gaze to her.

“Your acting skills aren’t that good, Bethany, but I admire your strength.”

She let go of him as if he had burned her, but wasn’t going to be intimidated by HIS knowledge that this was a farce, and told herself to continue to play the part. He turned back around and tugged on the chain until she was forced to follow. He led her into the room that she had slept in and pointed to the bed. But he didn’t drop the chain, and instead tethered it to the wall once more.

“I hope one day soon I’ll be able to trust you, Bethany.” He looked at her over his shoulder for a second, and then made his way to the closet.

She was curious what he wanted to show her, but when he pulled out a suitcase—the Louis Vuitton suitcase her father had given her for her birthday last year—her blood ran cold. He tossed it onto the ground before her and bent down to unlatch it. And when he opened it she already knew what she would find. Her clothes were neatly folded on the inside of that suitcase, staring at her, taunting her, and telling her that no one would come for her. More tears spilled from her eyes and she looked up at him. “What have you done?” Of course she knew, and her question wasn’t literal, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“You know what I’ve done. I’ve ensured that your family will think you have deserted your duties to marry the suitor your father has chosen.”

She shook her head and ran the backs of her hands over her cheeks, brushing the wetness away. “You said you were hoping they would come for me.” What she didn’t say was that a part of her wanted that, but there was a stronger part that hated the idea. If someone did come for her that would mean she was a prisoner somewhere else.

“What I told you was that you were mine, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take you away.” He was by the wall with his arms crossed and a stoic look on his face. “I’m sure they have notified the authorities by now, and I have no doubt they will come and try to find you. But Bethany, if they think you left of your own free will then they will be more inclined to disown you rather than waste resources trying to locate a deserter.” He said it like he was so sure her father and mother would just forget about her. But what was the saddest part of all of this was she knew that was the truth.

She looked at her clothes once more and closed her eyes. Her dad was a strict man who thought highly of how people saw him or his family, and if everyone in his circle thought she had run away because she didn’t want to hold up her “duties” then she would be as good as shunned. “But you forgot about my bank account. Without taking money out they will know I didn’t leave.” A sick feeling settled inside of her when he didn’t respond. “You took care of that, too?”

“Bethany, I have secured every possible way to ensure that you’re mine. If someone does find out where we are, we will be long gone from this place.” He stayed by the wall, unmoving, and sounding unsympathetic.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could be lying to ensure that I cooperate.”

He shrugged. “Yes, I very well could be lying, but the end result is still the same.”

“Yes I suppose it is.” And it was. She was stuck here with him, and he could and would do whatever he wanted to her.

“Now maybe you will understand what I want from you.”

She fucking knew what he wanted. He wanted her total and absolute surrender, and although she still had a little bit of life and hope inside, she also saw that suitcase as a finality of her situation. Hopelessness was not something she wanted to let fester inside of her, but it was hard to not think of his new life as the ending of her old one. Or maybe it was the beginning of her new life? Either way she had to be a fighter or someone who gave in to this man.

He took a step closer, and then another one, and soon he stood right in front of her. But at the moment she had no fight left in her. He reached out, cupped her cheek in a touch that was painfully gentle, and leaned down so they were nose-to-nose. “I’ll let you change into something that is more familiar and comfortable.” He turned and left her alone in the room, and all she could do was stare at the suitcase.

Inside were clothes that had been bought with her father’s money, skirts and blouses, pants and undergarments that were worth more altogether than most people made annually. She slipped off the bed and sat on her knees right in front of the bag. Reaching inside and grabbing out an Egyptian spun-silk blouse, she ran the butter-smooth material between her fingers. She had always loved this shirt, loved how it felt on her skin, but at the same time hated the fact that her father had picked it out. She tossed it aside and grabbed another shirt, this one a cashmere sweater that her mother had insisted she wear for a dinner date she had gone on with Steven. It was one of the first arranged dates her mother and father had set up. She threw it to the side where the other shirt lay. Her emotions were running high with hate, anger, fear, and that lingering arousal for Abe. Screaming out, she tore through the rest of the clothes in a frenzy of motion. Pants and skirts went left and right, blouses and underwear lay in tattered remains on the bed behind her and near the door.

When there was nothing left, she sat there panting, wanting nothing more than to continue to tear through all of them. Seeing all the expensive and lavish items, smelling her father and mother’s money surrounding them, made her see how shallow and heartless her life really was. This time when she cried she did it because she felt a freedom inside her. It filled her soul and then exploded out of every inch of her body. She threw her head back and screamed again, so pissed now at everything that had happened in her life, how she had rolled over and accepted it all, and how she wanted to hurt someone. Standing and looking around the room as violence filled her, she saw the lamp on the table, and quickly moved toward it. Once in her hand she was about to throw it against the wall when the bedroom door opened and Abe stood there staring at her with a smug fucking look on his face.

“You bastard.” She reared her arm back and launched the lamp as hard as she could. But it didn’t hit his head like she had been aiming for, crashing into the wall beside him instead. He looked at the shattered remains of the lamp on the floor, and a fierce, horrid look of anger covered his face. He was already moving toward her before she could find something to defend herself with. He grabbed her throat again and squeezed enough for her to know he was serious.

“You want to hurt me, Bethany?” He let go of her only long enough to tear his shirt from his body. She could see the dark lines of a tattoo on his side. The lines were so sharp and defined that they looked like cuts, but she could see that they were in fact inked into his skin. He must have seen that she was looking at his side, because he reached out and grabbed her hand in a painful, unyielding grip.

“Let me go, you bastard.”

He grinned, but it was a sadistic smile that had her blood chilling. He lifted his other arm, his muscles and tendons bunching from the action. “You see these, Bethany?” He ran a finger over the long, dark lines that covered his entire side. “This was my gift for surviving and transforming into the monster I am today.” He yanked her close so she crashed against his chest. “Every line on my body is a dirty, foul life that I took.”

She breathed fast, trying to pull away from him, but feeling her traitorous body melt and grow warm and wet for him.

“I slit their throats, watched the blood arc out, and saw it fill the ground beneath my feet.”

He was moving his thumb back and forth along her pulse right beside her ear, and as much as she feared him right now, she wanted him to touch her in a way no other man had touched her before: carnal, hard, possessive, making her feel like she was the only one for him. He pushed her back on the bed, and in a matter of seconds had her pants torn from her body so that she was nude from the waist down. Bethany didn’t hide herself, didn’t cross her legs or shy away. She was angry and aroused, and her pain and rage seemed to fill the entire room. She stared at him, hoping he could see the wave of emotions that were moving through her. And when he smirked, she knew he had but that he didn’t care. She placed her feet flat on the bed and spread her legs wide so he could get a look at her.

“Is this what you fucking want?” She curled her hands into the sheets and pulled at them, keeping her gaze trained right on him. It was hard keeping her legs open like that so he could gaze at her private parts, and even though she was wet for him, she forced herself to stay keep her legs spread. He stood there, his gaze right on her pussy, and although she could see that he was hard, he didn’t move closer. “You bastard.” She gritted the words out. “You pushed me, wanted me to snap when I saw all of those clothes.” She knew he had planned this, whether he would admit it or not.

“I wanted you to remember what your life was like.” He took a step forward, but still didn’t touch her.

She wanted him to touch her, wanted him to act like the motherfucker that she saw in front of her. “Well, here I am, slutting it up for you. Go on. Fuck me, you asshole.”

“You’re pushing a very dangerous man, Bethany.” His voice was so low, so frighteningly low that goose bumps formed along her arms and legs. The sun shone through the blinds, and the dark and light lines that moved along his body only amplified the power that came from him.

“Good, because you’ve already pushed me.” She was crying so hard now that her vision was becoming blurry, and Abe’s form was almost undistinguishable. For several seconds they did nothing but stare at each other, and she could feel the tension and dangerous arousal climb to a suffocating level. And then he was on her, his mouth on hers, and his hand between her legs. She fought him off at first, tried to close her legs and bite his mouth. But he was the one that bit her lip, and the pain that encompassed her had her grabbing chunks of his hair and pulling his head back. They breathed hard as they stared at each other, and she could see a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth from when he bit her.

“I could take you right now and you wouldn’t say no.” He seemed so confident, as if he had no doubt whatsoever of the outcome.

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she would never willingly give herself to him, but the truth was she knew that if things kept progressing this way she would be the one begging him for more. He made her feel alive, made her realize how fake she had always felt—even if she had known deep down she was misplaced.

He started rubbing his fingers through her folds. “You’re so wet for me, so ready to take me into your body.” He continued to torment and humiliate her with his coarse but truthful words. “But I’m not going to take you. I’m not going to fuck you until you ask me for it.”

“I did ask you for it.” She pushed the words out as he moved his fingers toward her clit and started rubbing the nub back and forth.

He shook his head. “No, you are having a tantrum, exerting the strength you think you have over me.” With one more rub to her clit he pulled away, brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, and sucked them clean. He didn’t make a noise when he did the obscene act, and then moved away from her.

For several seconds she stayed there with her legs spread, pissed that he’d denied her this act of freedom when he had pushed her to the brink.

“Clean this mess up and put your pants back on.” And then he left her alone to do just that. She felt like a scolded child, like she had done something wrong and was being punished for it. And when he shut the door behind him there was a finality to it. She closed her legs and curled into the fetal position on the bed, and for the first time her tears were because she realized maybe Abe had done her a favor by taking her away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ABE GRABBED a few more jugs of water from the small shed by the cabin and walked over to his truck. It had been a few days since he had brought Bethany to the cabin, and although she was more docile then she had been since she first arrived he could see her calculating her plan. She honestly thought she’d escape him, and that he would allow anyone to take her. It was infuriating that she still couldn’t see what was right in front of her. But he also couldn’t deny that when she had broken apart at the sight of her suitcase and the clothes that represented her life, a surge of pleasure and power had filled him. And when she’d chucked that lamp at his head, despite being pissed, he’d felt pride that she was breaking down the walls she had so easily erected around herself. Oh, she knew what her life had been like, and clearly hated it, but she never did anything about it. Well, he had changed that for her, and took her away from the nightmare she was stuck in.

He opened his truck, slipped the key in the ignition, and turned it until his radio kicked on. As he waited for the news, he lit a cigarette and stared at the kitchen window. He could see her on the other side, staring out the window over the sink. No doubt she was contemplating how she could escape, although he admitted she was warming to him—at least that was the guise of the game she was playing. He had to give her credit, she was a smart and cunning woman, but what she should already know that he wasn’t a man to give up on what he wanted. He hadn’t meant to show her his tattoos, or tell her how many men he had killed. He had been vague up until that point, had wanted to make sure she was connected to him with no worry that she’d try and leave before he told her he had been trained to take out men by the organization that had taken him in. That life was not what he wanted to focus on now. Right now he wanted to only worry about his life with Bethany. When the news started playing he waited until he heard what he was waiting for.

“The search for Bethany Sterling, the daughter of millionaire Robert Maximus Sterling, is still underway. But sources say the young socialite who was set to marry Steven Michael St. Gerrard has left of her own free will. With clothing gone and a typed note left, Robert Sterling is using his resources to locate his daughter, who has apparently run away with no other word or contact to her family.”

Abe leaned against the side of the truck, continuing to stare at Bethany and smoke his cigarette, and listened to the news basically say there wasn’t shit they could do. Robert had an unlimited amount of resources, but thinking his daughter had left willingly would achieve what Abe had been going for, and that was Sterling turning his back on what he considered the embarrassment of the family.

“The authorities are still continuing their search at the request of Mr. Sterling, but with no leads and the assumption that Miss Sterling left on her own due to the evidence, the search is coming to a standstill. There is a person in question, an employee of Mr. Sterling that has gone missing as well. Although the note Miss Sterling left doesn’t speak of running away with someone, there is speculation that Bethany Sterling and Abe Sparrow may have had a forbidden relationship.”

Abe turned off the radio and took his keys out of the ignition. After snubbing out his cigarette, he grabbed the jugs of water that he had set on the ground and slammed the truck door shut. He walked up the porch and into the cabin, and instantly trained his gaze on Bethany. She leaned against the counter, watching him with an unreadable expression. He set the water down by the door and walked into the kitchen. He didn’t go to her, but instead grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, took two glasses out, and moved to stand beside her. Without speaking he poured the whiskey into both glasses and slid one over to her.

“Go on. I’m sure you could use a drink.” He didn’t look at her as he drank the two fingers deep shot of whiskey, and when he set the glass on the counter and refilled it he noticed she had yet to touch hers. “Drink, because I know you fucking need it after listening to the news.” He glanced over at her. She was watching him, but finally reached out and grabbed the glass, tossed it back, and breathed out through the burn. He lifted up the bottle and she nodded for another and held her glass out to him.

“How did you know I was listening to the news?” she asked and lifted the glass to her mouth to finish the alcohol.

He tilted his chin toward the small battery-operated radio on the counter. She looked over at it. The red light indicated that it was still on, and she reached out and turned it off.

“It doesn’t matter, because if I didn’t want you to listen to it I wouldn’t have left the radio out.” He drank his second, set the cup on the counter and pushed it away. “Besides, I planned on having you listen for yourself to what is happening. I mean, it is your life, after all.”

She didn’t respond. For several minutes they stayed there in silence. Although the cabin was being run off a generator and Abe could stay here for the rest of his life if it came down to it, he wanted more isolation than this place provided. There were close enough to Sinnerstown that he was still edgy, on alert and watching his every move.

“Can I ask you something?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked over at her. She continued to stare out the window, and he ran his gaze down to her ankle. He still had her chained, but he had lengthened it so she could at least walk the length of the living room and kitchen. But he wasn’t a fool. He had taken away anything that could have been used as a deadly weapon, and hoped soon he would be able to unchain her so they could actually walk the property. She turned and faced him then and he stared into her eyes, ones that he had dreamt about staring up at him as he claimed her body and her soul. He could tell she was nervous, could see it in the way her lips trembled slightly, and by how she gripped the edge of the counter.

“Do you see us getting married, having children, and living happily ever after?” The question wasn’t laced with her acidic tone, as it had been just days before. She sounded genuinely concerned.

He took that one step closer to her, reached out to cup her cheek, and was pleased when she didn’t shy away from him. “I am not a happily-ever-after kind of man, but I won’t lie and say I don’t have an image of what our life will be like.” He smoothed his hand over her cheek, and for a moment his heart picked up pace as she leaned slightly into his embrace.

“And what do you imagine our life like?” she asked softly, without hesitation.

“I just image you and me.” He leaned in and kissed her softly at first, but as he started stroking the seam of her lips, he felt her respond to his touch and open for him, and he became that animal that wanted her desperately. He pressed his body fully against hers, placed his hands on the counter beside her body, and ground himself into her. She resisted only marginally, and he had noticed that over the past several days that resistance had slowly been waning the more he talked to her, touched her, and told her that she needed to look good and hard at what she wanted out of life. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips along her jawline and over to her ear. “Just tell me this is what you want, tell me that we can move forward and put our pasts behind us.”

She was breathing heavily against the side of his face, and although she wasn’t touching him, he knew she’d be wet between her thighs for him. For several long, agonizing seconds she didn’t respond, and it was taking every ounce of strength and willpower he possessed not to tear her clothes away and spread her out on the counter. He wanted her, wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight, and although he told her he would never force himself inside of her, that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought of it too many times to count. The dark, nasty part of him pictured her under him, bound and struggling as he took what he wanted, and showed her that he already owned every inch of her body. It was only a matter of time before she gave in to him, but she had to know by now that he was a patient, dangerous man, and he had all the time in the world.

“Just tell me to ease the suffering and open you up to what else is out there.” He had never been loved, never felt loved by anyone. He was in essence a machine that was sent out to do another’s bidding, to watch over his charges and destroy anything that threatened them. But then there was Bethany, and he was enthralled with her to the point that he was an obsessed and possessiveness mess concerning her. Would he kill anyone that stood in his way, or tried to take her away from him? Yes, and he’d do it with a grin on his face, taking pleasure from watching them bleed out. He felt how stiff her nipples were under her shirt. As much as that pleased him, he was even more pleased that she was wearing the plain shirt and sweatpants he had stocked in her dresser instead of the designer outfits that had been in her suitcase. She lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders, and his fucking cock jerked at the feel of her willingly touching him.

“No.”

ABE HELD her for a few more seconds after she told him no, that she wouldn’t tell him to take her right then and there. Despite her body being on fire with this disgusting, misplaced lust, she was wet, her nipples were hard, and she was having a hard time not moaning for him to tear her clothes away and just push his cock into her. But she was trying to hold on to her strength. Yes, she realized how shallow and unfulfilled her life had been before, living under her parents’ scrutiny. And now, after being here with Abe for several days, listening him drill into her about how meaningless her life was before then, how she was a pawn, a puppet for others’ ultimate needs, she knew he was trying to wear her down with the truth. Did she believe that he really cared for her? There was a part of her that knew in his twisted reasoning he did, but it was this obsessive need that made him want her, and taking her away from her life hadn’t been the right way to go about it. But how did you try and reason with a psycho? And that was what he was, right? She wanted to believe he was insane, and that she was trapped at the mercy of a madman, but he hadn’t really hurt her…not really. He had frightened her, tried to make her see his point of view, but until she was ready to understand all of this and find out for herself that this was best, she was just his captive.

He pulled away, and the anger that came from him actually had her moving several steps back. He was breathing so hard that his nostrils flared out, and his chest rose and fell so violently that she held her breath. He frightened her at this moment, maybe even more so then he had any other time before. She had told herself to play along, to gain his trust so she could leave, but there was this stubborn part of her that wanted to go against the grain. She’d never been a fighter in her life, always a doormat for everyone around her. So she supposed she could thank Abe for opening her up to that fact, because with him she didn’t want to just submit. She wanted to fight and let him know that she was done with letting others dictate her life.

“You push my fucking buttons because you think you are safe from me.” He took a step closer to her, but it wasn’t his presence that scared her. The way he spoke so slowly, so deeply and menacingly, that was what had her blood running like ice. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and for a split second she thought he meant to hit her with it. He was certainly holding it tightly enough, and this physical show was clearly his way of letting her see the violence that he housed, but also that he had self-control. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

“I’m done cowering, Abe.”

His nostrils flared again as he breathed in and out, and she heard him grind his teeth. He turned and threw the bottle of whiskey so hard against the side of the living room wall that a surprised cry left her and she covered her head with her hands. She stared as the amber liquid and small chards of glass slid down the wall. He turned on her faster than she could even comprehend, gripped her around the throat, and pressed her up against the counter. He was cutting off her oxygen now, but when his wild gaze slipped down to her throat he loosened his hold and breathed out.

“I’m not one of those motherfuckers in a suit that will smile and look the other way, Bethany.” He moved in so close that she felt his alcohol-laced breath move along her lips. Maybe she could blame her boldness on the fact she felt the warm burn of alcohol move through her veins. Either way, the situation had escalated to dangerous proportions. She was dealing with the aftereffects of his anger—which she had brought on.

He let go of her with a growl in his voice, and started to pace just a few feet from her. He looked like a caged animal ready to attack, and Bethany was having serious doubts about exerting her figurative wings. The sounds coming from him were ones she would have expected to hear from a wounded animal, not from this man. She looked around the kitchen for something to use as a weapon—despite already having done that whenever he left the cabin—and knew there was nothing. Aside from a few cheap pots and pans, some plastic utensils and wooden spoons, Abe had successfully “prisoner-proofed” the cabin. He suddenly stopped and looked her way. She saw how he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, saw the healing wound on his knuckles from the last thing he had punched, and wondered if she was next. She also saw his erection straining against the fly of his black cargo pants. He was dangerous and pissed, and that was turning her on.

“If you’re going to do it, then just fucking do it.” She swallowed. “You don’t scare me.” That was an outright lie. He smirked, but it was one of those arrogant “I know you’re a fucking liar” smirks.

“If telling yourself that makes you feel better, than by all means—.” He took a step closer to her “—fucking scream it as loud as you can. But you and I know the truth.” He bared his teeth, and she started to shake uncontrollably, but it wasn’t just from the fear he was causing inside of her. He was arousing her by this peacock show of arrogance, dominance, and overall assholishness.

“Fuck. You. How is that for forgetting my past and accepting my future?” The words just came from her like she was a totally different person, and not chained to this man’s wall right now. He growled, yes, fucking growled at her, and then they were clashing together in a tangle of limbs, angry kisses, and hair pulling. He had his hands in hers, and pulled at the strands until pain sliced through her skull, but she did the same to him. His hair was too short to really pull, but she scraped her nails along his head, dragged them down the back of his neck, and loved when he growled once more and bit her lip.

“You fucking tease.” He yanked her head back with his grip on her hair, and a gasp left her. “You go from hot to cold, distant to…this.” He looked at her mouth, and then claimed it once more with his. “I should punish you by not touching your body, by not showing you how much I want you.” He took his other hand and reached up until he had her wrist in his hold. Then he moved it down until it was between their bodies and right over his shaft. “You feel what you fucking do to me? You’re nothing but a little cock tease.” He said it so angrily, like he wanted to hurt her for how she made him feel.

Well good, because she wanted him to hurt as much as she was.

“I should take you to the room and throw you on the bed.” Abe pulled away, but refused to let go of her hair. “I should rip your clothes off until your body and your fucking soul are bared for me.” He pulled her head back even harder until tears spilled down her cheeks. He leaned in and ran his tongue up her left check, and then did the same to the right. He licked at her tears, cursed every step of the way, and continued to grind his cock into her belly.

“I’m sick of your threats, sick of being chained up like a goddamn animal.” Now she bared her teeth at him, and the dark laugh he gave her sapped all of the strength she had left. “You can’t force me to do anything, you asshole.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bethany, and you’re about to realize that my threats were for your safety.” With his hand still tangled in her hair, he turned and started toward where the lock kept her tethered to the wall. He pulled her by the hair and she stumbled forward. She shouldn’t be wet from this or the degrading and sick treatment he was showing her. But she was, God she was so wet, and that just made her hate and want him even more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ABE HELD the chain in one hand, and had a bruising grip on her forearm with his other one. He led them into the bedroom that she assumed was his, not just because it was the only room in the cabin that she hadn’t seen, but because it smelled darkly like he did. He tossed her across the room with enough force that she stumbled forward and landed on her belly on the bed. But Bethany was not about to be in that vulnerable position willingly. She turned around quickly so she was sitting on the bed and gripped the thin comforter underneath her. Abe went back to pacing the room, but he had his gaze locked on her the entire time. She noticed he glanced at her breasts. She looked down and saw how hard her nipples were, and was surprised they hadn’t ripped through the material. Bethany quickly covered her chest with her forearm, trying to hide herself from him, even though she was aroused.

“Drop your fucking arm.” He growled out the words. “You don’t hide from me.”

“You said you wouldn’t force yourself on me.” She whispered the words, but it was more out of pleasure from this dark desire churning inside of her than anything else.

“And I won’t, but I told you that you’re mine, and that means I will look upon you however, and as often, as I please.” A moment of silence stretched between them. “No, drop your fucking arm.”

As if she were the puppet and he the puppeteer, she dropped her arm on his command. Her chest heaved up and down as she sucked in air, but could never quite get enough into her lungs. Every erogenous zone in her body tingled as he watched her, and when he took a step toward her the heat in her body intensified.

“Take your shirt off.” He stopped a few feet from her, clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides.

Of course there was that little voice inside of her that said to fight and not give in, but the strong voice, the one that wanted to be ravished by this beast, told that voice to fuck off. She gripped the edge of her shirt and pulled it up and off her head. The air was cool and her skin puckered with goose bumps. She was scared, of course, but the way he looked at her, as if she were the only woman on the planet, had a drugged feeling consuming her. She was high, drunk, intoxicated, and although all of those things were the same, she felt like each and every one was a living, breathing entity inside of her.

His gaze was penetrating, like he was actually reaching out and stroking her skin with that alone. There had to be something wrong with her that she desired this—desired him.

“The pants, take them off.” It didn’t even sound like him anymore, and she could tell in his voice alone that he was barely holding on to his control.

As if he controlled the strings to her she stood and pushed down her pants and underwear. She was so cold all of a sudden, but then a blast of heat filled her. Beads of sweat covered her flesh in dewy moisture, and only got worse when he took that last step toward her.

“If only you could see yourself right now.”

She heard the pleasure in his voice and heat slid through her. This was wrong on so many levels, but on the tail end of that thought she realized that only other people would think it was wrong. She felt so good, so easy and comfortable with him, and although it was a twisted situation, how could she lie to herself and deny how she really felt? He moved closer, bent down so he could grab the chain, and went over to the wall to restrain her once more. But this surge of excitement left her as she watched him close the lock, making sure she stayed right where he wanted her to be. The air stirred briefly and she smelled the dark and spicy scent of Abe. It was the aroma she always smelled when he was near, and the scent had always gotten her wet. Now was no different, and although she was already aroused, she grew even wetter.

The feeling was overpowering.

He moved back toward her and slid his hands up her thighs. A tingling sensation settled even more fiercely between her legs. He moved his hands in slow but demanding movements, and the air was literally sucked from her lungs. The urge to fight and submit at the same time rode her high. The slight pressure he added to her belly and the way he moved the pad of his index finger along her belly button had her nipples hardening. He was meticulous and careful as he touched her, but made sure to keep his gaze trained right on her face.

“Lay back and put your arms above your head,” he said and moved away from her.

She didn’t hesitate, although she knew she should have. He went over to the dresser and grabbed some kind of rope before moving back toward her.

“Wait.” That one word came from her on a breath, and she wasn’t surprised that he didn’t listen to her soft plea.

He smoothed his hands on her exposed abdomen again. “Your skin is so soft, and it’s the color of peaches.” He lifted his gaze to her face, and then while staring right into her eyes he cupped her breast. A tremor worked its way through her and her breasts shook from the sudden movement. Before she could tell him to stop, he was leaning over her. His breath was warm as it bathed her nipple. The peak hardened painfully, but pleasure also filled her. She involuntarily arched her back, causing her aching nipple to brush along his lips with more pressure added. He groaned deeply and she swore she felt the vibrations all the way through her body before the noise settled in her clit. Self-hatred, disgust, and searing pleasure filled her to the point that she gripped the headboard and dug her nails into the wood. In a move quicker than she could register he restrained her wrists to the headboard with the tie.

“I knew you’d be like this, so receptive to my touch, so needy for my mouth.” He moved lower and murmured against her chest right before he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Over and over he moved his tongue over the peak, and then gently tugged it and ran his teeth over it.

Bethany wasn’t a virgin, but she had never experienced anything this carnal and powerful before. “Stop. This isn’t right.” She couldn’t push him away, but she also wasn’t being forceful and even moaned slightly.

“You want this just as badly as I do.” He sucked on her nipple more furiously until arcs of pleasure and pain coursed through her body like lightning bolts.

She was going to come, but she didn’t want that, right? “No, please.”

He sucked harder and faster.

“Oh, God.”

He moved a hand between her legs. She was wet, embarrassingly so given her situation.

“You’re soaked, Bethany, so fucking wet for me.” He moved his mouth up her chest and settled at the crook of her neck. He panted against her throat, and applied more pressure to her pussy with his fingers. “I can tell you’re about to come, aren’t you, baby?”

A low, desperate sound left her when he applied even more pressure, moved the base of his palm against her clit and rubbed it against her in slow, powerful circles.

“Come for me, Bethany, let me see you unravel because of me.”

“Oh.” She opened her eyes wide as pleasure stole her breath. “Stop.” She arched her back, trying to get away—at least that was what she told herself, but the truth was it felt so good she wanted to stay in this moment forever. She was needy for him, desperate to feel him pumping inside her until she couldn’t move, couldn’t walk, and couldn’t even breathe. Even thinking those depraved thoughts should have made her vomit, but her pleasure just went higher.

He didn’t stop grinding his palm against her clit, and over and over he tormented her, giving her pleasure mixed with pain. Bethany felt like she was spiraling down the proverbial rabbit hole. When the pleasure started to dim she ached, feeling tender and exposed in such a way it was as if her very soul was on display.

“Tell me, Bethany. Tell me how that made you feel.”

She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him to leave her be, that she had to be experiencing some kind of mental breakdown to have liked what he had just done to her. When she didn’t respond, he pressed the weight of his body down on her and lowered his face so it was inches from her own.

“Stop fucking struggling and denying us both, Bethany.” He growled out the words and everything stilled inside of her. “You want this, you’re fucking wet for me, and yet you’re fighting me tooth and nail.” Abe ground his erection into her belly and a gasp left her. “You feel how hard you make me, how much I want you?” His strength was immense, and she felt like a small animal pinned under a massive predator. Grabbing her behind the knee and pulling it up and out, he took advantage of her surrender and nestled his waist between her legs. A small, needy sound left her when she felt his hard cock right up against her pussy. He was so big, so massive everywhere that she felt insignificant. Bethany wanted to escape it all—had wanted to live in some kind of fantasy world where nothing was laced with self-loathing and hidden behind stacks of cash. And although being kidnapped and held captive by this man was not what she had envisioned, Bethany would be lying if she didn’t admit, if only to herself, that she liked having the power taken from her. It was a type of freedom she would have never expressed in her lifetime, and she knew that for a fact.

For several moments all he did was thrust against her, and although only a few layers of clothing separated his bare flesh from meeting hers, it was still erotic and wrong, and so very good. With his mouth at her neck, and him running his teeth and tongue along her overly sensitive skin, Bethany could have envisioned herself in a different scenario. She could see herself willingly under this man, with no restraints around her wrists or ankles, and these turbulent emotions swirling within her.

“You think too hard on what you’re feeling. Just enjoy it, let yourself realize this is what you want.”

His scruff scraped her throat, and a small mewl left her.

“Maybe on some level I should know what I am doing to you is wrong, but I want you too fucking badly, and am too determined to make you mine that those weak emotions won’t stop me.” He spoke harshly, and she could tell that his anger, passion, and need to make sure all of that happened was what fueled him the most. He moved away and the chilled air slammed into her, making her realize exactly how hot Abe had gotten her.

Here she was, totally nude for him, and feeling like she was some kind of virginal sacrifice, and Abe was a god about to devour her. In a few quick moves he removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. Clenching her thighs together to try and stop the pulsing need that had settled between them, she shook her head, not knowing exactly why. But a dark look crossed his face, and she tightened her hold on the slats of the headboard even harder. He was mad, but what right did he have to be angry with her for not wanting this?

That’s a lie, Bethany. A damn lie.

“Maybe once my cock is deep in your pussy you’ll finally accept that you’re mine.” He didn’t phrase it like a question, and the clipped words somehow had a fresh gush of moisture leaving her. He was fast, hard, and clearly very upset as he all but tore open his pants and pushed them down. Once he was standing nude in front of her, with that long, thick hardness between his thighs nearly pointing right at her, she knew there was no stopping this. He wanted her, and was determined to make her know she had no escape and that she was his. “You’ll fucking tell me what I want to hear, Bethany.” He gripped the base of his shaft and started stroking himself. “Your cunt is wet, your nipples hard, and a blush covers your body.” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “You want to lie to me and tell me you don’t want my dick in your tight little body?” He might have phrased that as a question, but she knew better than to think he actually wanted her to answer.

Fighting back and telling him to fuck off and that she didn’t want this again was at the forefront of her mind. But she couldn’t say the words, couldn’t force them out. She wet her lips and took a deep, steadying breath. “I…”

His gaze was unmoving as he watched her with a stoic expression. Was he getting angrier at her indifference?

“How can you expect me to go along with this, to want you after you took me from my home, and are holding me here like this?” She pulled against her bonds, emphasizing her point. “I’m afraid of you, afraid of what you’ll do to me, but I hate that my body craves your touch.” The last part hadn’t been meant to be said out loud, but it was too late to try and take it back. He took a step closer and placed his hand right over her pussy again. He was a bold motherfucker, sure of himself and his actions. She hated him for that, and grew aroused because of it.

“I’m not asking you to be okay with this, and believe me when I say I have shown more patience with you than I ever have with anyone else in my life.”

She started breathing heavier when he rubbed his fingers up and down the lips of her pussy.

“All I am asking you is to finally accept me, what I have to offer, and forget about everything else.” He looked her right in the eye. “You lie to yourself every fucking day, play their little games, and now that you are free you want to play those games with me?” His voice sounded like it was getting harder, more volatile. “I told you I wouldn’t rape you, but I also want to stick my dick inside of you really fucking badly.” He moved a finger lower, plunging it into her body.

She opened her mouth wide on a silent cry. It felt good, but it also hurt. His finger was big and thick, and he was pumping it in and out with a forcefulness that stunned her. But she was going to come, could feel it starting to build at the base of her spine, and hated herself even more that she was about to come undone right before him.

“Say you’re mine.” He had moved his mouth to her ear and whispered the words to her. “Say that I own you, own this fucking body.” He thrust his finger harder into her, and hit something deep inside that sparked a deliciously wicked sensation. Involuntarily her pussy clenched around his digit, and he groaned hard against the shell of her ear. “Just give me what I want, and I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” He added another finger and a gasp did leave her this time. “I’ll release you, Bethany.”

And as if his words had been the trigger, she exploded around him. Eyes now shut tight, she cried and mewled at the same time. Heat suffocated her, filled her to the point she thought she would burn alive. Wetness trickled from her, and she knew she should have been embarrassed, but she couldn’t find that emotion in her. This orgasm was much different than the previous one. It was intense, and she felt the sheets grow wet beneath her bottom from her climax. The bed was moving slightly, and she realized he was pressing his hips into the mattress, dry-humping it because he was just as lost on this as she was.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” He had never been gentle in the way he spoke, but when he said that his voice was softer. She should have been grateful for that, but for some reason she didn’t take comfort. In fact, it almost felt like the calm before the storm.

She curled her nails into her palms until pain lanced through her, but did as he asked. She was sick, but then again so was he. Bethany could have fought, could have screamed and lashed out, but she was tired, her mind wanted to give up, and Abe was giving her that chance. He pulled back slightly and his gaze stayed on her face. And then only seconds later he looked down between her thighs.

“Spread your legs as wide as they can go, Bethany.” He said it with more force this time, and she did as he demanded.

Her heart thundered behind her sternum. The strain of unused muscles protested, but there was also a pleasure that mingled with that discomfort. She kept her gaze on him, watching for any clue as to what he might be thinking, but found none. He kept his composure on a leash, and that made her feel ten times as affected.

She could feel his thumb and finger on her labia, smoothing up and down her flesh right before he pulled them apart. Her wrists burned from the tie digging into them, but she continued to strain, cursing herself for enjoying it this much. His gaze snapped up to hers.

“Your pussy is pink on the inside, like a rose.” It was strange hearing him say something so…endearing?

The cool air circulated throughout the room despite the fact it was summer, or maybe she was just so overheated that the air around them felt cold. With his fingers still spreading her wide, he continued to watch her for what seemed like forever.

He shifted so his face was right between her legs now, and his warm breath teased her folds. A dark mask covered his face and he placed a hand on each of her inner thighs, stilling her. Even if she had wanted to close her legs his broad shoulders blocked her from doing that. And then he had his mouth on her pussy. He worked his tongue around her clit and then moved it along her inner lips. His hot breath felt exquisite along her cleft, sending her spiraling closer to oblivion. How was it possible to have already come twice, but desperately need more?

“Oh God, Abe.” She hated that she sounded desperate for him, and the words that he wanted to hear—that she wanted him to fuck her—were on the tip of her tongue. The sound of sucking flesh had her on the brink of completion, but just as quickly as he’d started, he stopped.

“I knew you would taste this sweet,” he murmured against her swollen flesh, and she felt a stab of desire spear through her. When he pulled away she felt bereft and disappointed, but she knew he wasn’t about to end this.

CHAPTER NINE

ABE MOVED AWAY from Bethany’s pussy with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. He was hard, so fucking stiff that he wanted to shove his cock deep inside of her without thinking any more about it. The sight of her tied to the headboard, every inch of her body on display for his visual pleasure, was slowly draining his self-control, and he had been using self-control around her. He moved away from the bed and over to the small dresser. Inside he grabbed a tie, one that had been here when he’d purchased the place years ago, and went back over to her.

Now that he had Bethany here, ready and willing—to a point—that urge to show her who was in charge reared its head. She fought him, but that was human nature, and of course she was frightened. He made no qualms over the fact that taking her the way he had was good, but he wanted her. That was enough for him to do whatever the fuck he wanted. In his miserable life he had never desired anything like he did Bethany. Fucking women for the sole purpose of getting off had been the extent of his relationships with the opposite sex. Then he had seen her, knew he wanted her, but as time progressed he watched the person she really was come out when no one was watching.

Her gaze kept bouncing from his face to what he held and he entertained the thought that she would most likely tell him she didn’t want it, but he was done playing games. She had been here long enough to realize if this was what she wanted. She might cry at times, and miss the only life she had ever known, but she had also wanted out of there as much as she wanted to take her next breath. Here she was, ready for his taking, and that was confirmed when he looked between her legs that were still spread, saw how red and wet she was, and knew she ached for him. He did admit it surprised him when he found out she was a squirter, and the fact that he had been the one to force that from her pleased him greatly.

He moved closer to her so he was now at the head of the bed.

“I don’t want that,” she said softly, but he could see the way her pulse beat rapidly at the base of her throat, and noticed the way she pressed her thighs together.

“Lift your head,” he said without breaking eye contact. He expected her to argue and fight some more, because although she wanted this she also was stubborn, and rightly so, he supposed. He wouldn’t have enjoyed it this much if she had just surrendered without showing him how strong she really was. But he was immensely pleased when she obeyed right away. He slipped the black tie over her eyes and secured it behind her head. He wanted her to have a little sensory deprivation, to realize that she needed to follow her body’s reactions. He wanted her to feel everything he did to her. He didn’t want her thinking about anything else, seeing anything that didn’t directly result from what he was doing to her. He noticed that her breathing increased and she sawed her legs up and down on the sheets slightly.

When he moved back on the bed he placed a hand on each of her knees and wrenched them open. She stiffened for only a second before she took his silent cue and relaxed. With her legs now open for him once more, he settled between them. Abe stared right at her cunt, felt his cock throb and his balls draw up. Shit, he wanted to fuck her, and claim her like some kind of wild animal. She was all smooth and pink, glistening with the wetness that he had caused. She was primed for him, so soaked that there was a wet spot on the mattress beneath her, but he was going to fill her up with so much of his cum that her pussy would be covered in it. It would be his mark on her body, and she’d smell just like him. The primal male part of him roared out at that thought.

“Your cunt is a pretty shade of pink, Bethany.” He moved his gaze from between her thighs to her heaving breasts. He lifted his hand and ran his finger down the center of her cunt. Her body visibly shook and he had to curl his other hand into a tight fist to try and grapple with his control. Placing his thumb on her clit, he applied pressure while he slid his index finger over her wet slit and circled it around the opening of her vagina. He slipped his finger into the wet, hot depth of her body, and grunted when she seemed to suck his finger deeper into her pussy.

He finger-fucked her in long strokes and rubbed her clit at the same time. Pre-cum slipped from the tip of his cock when he heard the breathy little cries that came from her. Taking hold of the root of his dick, he tightened his fingers around his aching member. He could have come just from watching his finger move in and out of her cunt. But he wouldn’t come, not until he was buried completely in her pussy, and she was begging him for more.

“Tell me, Bethany, fucking tell me what I want to hear.” He slammed his finger in and out of her, and then added another finger. She was tight, so fucking tight that he found himself jerking off. “Tell me.” He roared out the words, getting pissed and even more aroused that she was denying him this.

“God, yes, yes I want this.” She cried out the words. “I want you to help me escape all of this, to take me to another life.” He could see wetness slide out from under the tie, knew she was crying, but also knew it was because that confession had most likely opened up that realization inside of her. She squirmed on the bed, and her breasts were thrust out, her nipples hard as rocks.

He leaned forward and dragged his tongue over one of them. She arched into his mouth and he groaned against her flesh. It was so smooth, so sweet. While he sucked and licked at her, he continued to stroke his cock with fervor. “You’re so good. So mine.” He moved his mouth lower until he hovered right over her pussy. In a quick move he sucked at her soaked, swollen flesh. He circled her clit again, harder and faster, trying to draw out her pleasure.

Christ.

Abe didn’t know if he could have held out much longer. He broke away and latched his mouth onto hers. He swallowed her moan, and felt his own need to be buried inside of her mounting to an uncomfortable level. He pulled away from her, aligned his cock with the entrance of her pussy, and slowly started to push inside.

“Wait. God, wait.”

He looked at her face and saw the beads of sweat lined along her brow.

“What about pregnancy? STDs?” She swallowed loud enough that he heard it, and hard enough that he saw her throat work up and down.

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about, but you’re on the shot, and I’m clean.” He knew everything about her, and so even that small, personal detail didn’t go unnoticed by him. But he hadn’t fucked anyone for over a year, hadn’t even wanted to because she was all he wanted. He pushed forward, felt the resistance from her body, and from the fact she was pleading with him. “It’s good, Bethany. Christ, it is so fucking good.” He couldn’t go slow, and couldn’t be easy with her. This was a year in the making, and he had waited long enough. He placed a hand on each of her thighs and continued to push deep into her. “Shhh,” he tried to calm her. She moaned and thrashed her head back and forth, but she never told him to stop. He had meant it when he said he wouldn’t rape her, and maybe to some this was just the same—dubious consent. But she wanted this, and had finally told him so, too.

She still had on the blindfold and he had the urge to rip the fucking thing off so he could look in her eyes. He held off though, because he wanted her to feel the experience, and feel what the fuck he was doing to her. Even with the tie still wrapped around her eyes and the darkness of the room, he could see that her cheeks were flushed and that her hairline was wet from perspiration. And then he let loose and fucked her in long, hard strokes. Over and over he plowed into her, loving the sounds of pleasure and pain she made, how she asked him to stop, but begged him to go on. He was sweating, and the beads of wetness slid down the length of his spine and covered his forehead. He was going to come sooner rather than later, and it was going to be the sweetest fucking thing.

It was like an animal broke free inside of him and he reached out and tore the tie from around her head. She looked at him with a wide, frightened expression, blinked a few times, and when he thrust especially hard into her he loved that her eyes rolled back into her head. He undid the restraints binding her wrists together, and once her hands were free she let them fall to her side and bunched the sheets in her grasp. He pulled out only long enough to take hold of her hips, flip her onto her belly, and kick her legs apart again with his knee. Her ass was generous, and the fleshy mounds shook from the sudden movement. Abe slipped his finger through her slit, gathered her moisture, and used his other hand to spread her ass apart. Then he moved his cream-soaked digit to her anus, and ran the tip along the puckered hole.

“I’m going to fuck your ass before we are finished here, Bethany.” He placed the tip of his cock back at her pussy, held onto her waist, and thrust into her in one deep, hard move. Her cry was muffled because her face was pressed against the mattress, but he heard her nonetheless. Pumping into her fast and hard, he quickly undid the restraint around her wrists, grabbed her hands, and kept them bound to her lower back with one of his hands. She turned her head to the side, opened her mouth, and sucked in air.

“I want to fuck you in your tight little ass, baby.” He slammed into her, held his position for a second, and then pulled out slowly again. But Abe couldn’t stop staring at the puckered hole of her bottom, and couldn’t rid himself of the urges of sliding his cock inside of her. He slipped the same pussy-cream-slicked finger over her anus again, teased the hole, and then slipped it inside.

He couldn’t stop the strangled noise that came from him when she tightened her inner muscles around him. He pumped into her over and over again, slowing his speed as he watched himself fuck her asshole at the same time. He stilled completely and spread her ass as far as it would go. When he pulled out of her body, he immediately gathered more of her wetness and smoothed it over her anus until the hole glistened with her arousal. His cock was already soaked from fucking her, and he knew he had enough lube to not hurt her. He might have taken her against her will, but he wasn’t a sadist in the sense that he wanted her hurt solely for his pleasure.

“God, baby.” He slipped his finger inside of her until he was two knuckles deep and groaned. “You have no idea how much it turns me on seeing you this vulnerable.” He removed the digit and replaced it with the thick crown of his erection. He still had hold of her wrists, and to see her like this, her muscles straining from the position, and his dick right at the entrance of her bottom, had him about to come right there, before he even plunged into her. There was resistance as he pushed through the tight ring of muscle, and then he was fully in her. He only gave her a few seconds to adjust to his size before he started moving in and out very slowly. He didn’t want to cause any unjust discomfort, but he was barely holding on. After several minutes, when he felt her start to relax, he picked up his speed and plowed into her. His balls slapped her moist pussy, and every muscle and tendon in his body was strung tight.

He was crazed in his movements, pounding into her body like he owned it. But he did own her, every part of her. “Yeah, that’s so fucking it. I’m going to come, baby.”

He used his other hand and gripped a chunk of her hair, pulled her head back until her throat was arched, and groaned out. Her ass tightened around his cock and he growled, thrusting several more times into her before pulling out right at the last minute. He took hold of the base of his dick and stroked himself feverishly until white arcs of cum came out of the tip of his cock and covered her ass. His orgasm went on and on, and he watched in a euphoric, drugged-out haze as his semen slid down the crease of her ass and covered her pussy. He moved back on his haunches and looked at her body covered in his cum. As much as he wanted to have her stay like that, marked by him in the most erotic way, he bent over off the bed and grabbed a rag. She was trying to catch her breath, but her eyes were closed and she stayed on her belly. Once he had her cleaned up, he slipped into bed beside her and pulled her close. She didn’t fight him, and for that he was thankful, but he also didn’t trust her not to run off—not yet, at least. Over time he would gain her trust, but right now she still needed to be restrained. He moved toward the end of the bed and grabbed the leather cuff and chain that was bolted to the wall. Once he had the cuff around her ankle and locked, he moved back up toward her. She was staring at him, and he was surprised that she hadn’t tried kicking him, or running.

“What would be the point? You’d just catch me.” She said the words softly, and turned her head the other way while still staying on her belly.

She was right. He would have stopped her before she even left the room, but if by some miracle she got out of the cabin, he’d just find her. This place was in the middle of nowhere, despite it being only a few hours from her parents’ home. He pulled the sheets up and over them and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. After several minutes he turned onto his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen, had known this was going to be the outcome. She had been in the moment with him, but most likely she was thinking about what they had done and processing her reaction to it all. He pulled her close and tucked her against his chest. It felt so good with her this close to him, and finally having her in this way. But even being physical with her didn’t mean he had her heart, and ultimately that was what he wanted.

He smoothed a hand over her hair, and after several long minutes he felt her relax against him as her exhaustion finally won. But there would be a time when he unchained her and dealt with the fallout if she did decide to run. What he knew without a doubt was that he wasn’t going to let her go.

CHAPTER TEN

ONE WEEK. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. It all ran together in a motion of the sun rising and setting, and all wrapped around her time with Abe. Ever since they had been together, since she had caved and given herself to him sexually, she had assumed it would be sex constantly with him. But he hadn’t touched her again, and she felt like that was one of the stranger things that had happened thus far. Was he waiting for her to beg him again? She would have liked to say she would never do it again, but the truth was she liked being in his company, liked that he watched her so intently. Her father might have been overly protective of her, but his ultimate goal hadn’t been because he cared about what happened to her. He had men watch her, a security detail follow her, and had every minute of her life scheduled, despite her being an adult. All because it was for his best interest. After listening to the news on the radio all those days ago, she realized that her father would be humiliated at her departure. Anyone she would have talked to about her upcoming wedding, about how she had never wanted a life like this, had surely been contacted by the authorities. They would have told them how she had hated this life, how she just wanted to leave everything behind, and wouldn’t that just solidify the state of her missing clothes? She was good and well screwed, and after it being a week already with no sign of anyone coming for her, she knew that her father hadn’t tried nearly as hard as he could have to locate her. Surely if he really wanted her found he would have been able to. He had an abundance of resources at his disposal, and that was clear not by the amount of money in his bank account, but the fact he’d hired Abe—a lethal killer with an obscured past.

“You’re thinking about running?” Abe asked from where he was sitting on the chair across from her, cleaning a gun, of all things.

She should have been scared shitless as she watched him take it apart and clean it with expert motions, but she wasn’t—not in the least, in fact. He didn’t look at her as he ran the once-white rag, now a dingy brown color, over the barrel of his handgun. She stared at where he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows, watched as his forearms flexed with unrestrained strength, and everything inside of her clenched painfully. She didn’t answer, yet he still didn’t look at her.

“If not about escaping, then maybe about your family,” he said softly in that deep, masculine voice of his.

She glanced down at the chain still attached around her ankle. Over the last seven days of being in this cabin she had watched him and this routine he had. Ever since having sex with him he made her sleep in bed with him, and although he didn’t try to be with her in that way, he did hold her and stroke his hand over her hair. It was calming, and every time he did that—like a before-bed ritual—she would fall asleep peacefully in his arms. At first she had internally fought that comfort, but then she had just accepted and embraced it. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had any kind of comfort. Her mother might have done it when she was a child, but that had passed as soon as it had come, and obviously hadn’t made any kind of lasting impression. And then there was Steven, a man that was looking for a sexual relationship before she was saddled to him out of some kind of social obligation to her father. But she didn’t owe anything to anyone but herself.

He set the dismembered gun on the coffee table and looked up at her. For one week she had been with him, chained to one of the walls in this small cabin. For one week she had watched this man walk around like they were some kind of demented married couple. He leaned back in the chair, but stayed just as quiet as she did.

“No, I’m not thinking of leaving.”

He cocked a brow, but didn’t say anything, as if waiting for her to continue.

“I realized that no one is coming for me.” She glanced down at the chain, and lifted her leg, causing the metal to slide and clang against the wall. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact I can’t go anywhere.” She swallowed as he held his gaze with hers, and she hated and felt comforted at the fact that his stare alone could make her feel so exposed. Shifting on the chair, she realized that out of everyone in her life this man—her captor—was the only one that cared for her. His feelings might not be conventional, but they were real in their own way. It was a frightening and warming sensation. She looked back at his face, knowing that Abe’s methods of trying to change her life were unconventional in the most deranged way, but that they were the first real thing in her life. “My whole life I’ve been in this box that my family built around me. I acted how they wanted me to, did what they told me to do, and I think deep down it was also to gain some kind approval or love from them.”

He was unmoving and didn’t speak, but she knew he was listening intently.

“You’re the first person that looked at me and saw that I was unhappy.” Tears threatened to spill forth, not the kind she hated, but the kind she welcomed. They were the cleansing kind, the ones that made her feel like her soul was finally free, and it had taken this situation to have her finally open up and realize what she needed to do. Thinking about it for years hadn’t been the same thing, because she still had this noose of expectation around her neck. “I’m sorry.” She brushed away the lone tear that that slipped from her. “While I don’t agree with how you did it, I understand why.” At least she did to the extent that he wanted her to realize herself in a different life. Yes, right now this wasn’t living as she was his prisoner, and that was no different than the life she had led at her father’s estate, but there was a vast difference with how she felt in this situation.

Here she woke, was allowed to bathe and dress without the expectation of looking perfect for company, and wasn’t expected to abide by a certain structure throughout the day. Maybe this had been Abe’s plan all along, to brainwash her into wanting her to believe his reasoning. But she couldn’t say that all of these things hadn’t already consumed her more than once in her life.

Abe stood and moved toward her, and she pushed herself back against the chair. She didn’t know what to expect with him on most days. The routine was always the same, but his emotions seemed to become unhinged at the slightest provocation. He crouched in front of her, laid a hand on either side, caging her in, and stared into his eyes.

“What are you doing?” She whispered after he had been staring at her for several silent moments. He was so handsome, so masculine and dangerous, and maybe that was part of the appeal. Bethany didn’t know what was right and wrong when it came to how her emotions were growing for this man, but what she did know was that to others this would be considered toxic and a nightmare at best.

“I’m staring at you, Bethany.” There was no riddle in his words. The thing with Abe was he told her how it was, and didn’t mince his words.

“But why?” Again she said it so softly that if anyone had been in the room with them they wouldn’t have been able to hear her. She obviously didn’t mean it in the literal sense, because Abe did many things that she didn’t understand, but knew were genuine in his intentions. Whether that was right or wrong was debatable, but they were always done with honest intent.

“Because I am looking at a woman that has finally realized in here–” He placed his hand on her heart, and for as bad as this man was on many levels, there was this side that she had never witnessed before. It was soft, gentle. “—that your life can be so much more if only with the right person.”

“And that person is you?” She didn’t say it with any emotion in her voice.

He removed his hand and leaned back, clearly annoyed by her comment. “You have two choices.” He left a moment of silence between them, as if he were trying for a dramatic effect. It worked. “Accept me and everything I am going to give you, or stay chained.” He stood without looking at her again, and in a matter of minutes had successfully put the gun he was cleaning back together. He loaded it and her heart started pounding hard and fast. When he slipped it into the waistband at the small of his back, her palms started to sweat as well as the space between her breasts. He turned and looked at her, once again wearing his hard mask of indifference. Without saying anything he headed out of the cabin and shut the door behind him.

Where was he going? When would he be back? God, she hated that she worried, but he had left her chained without telling her what was going on. And then she heard the sound of his truck being started. She stood and moved over to the window, but stayed off to the side. Abe drove away from the cabin, and only when she could no longer see him and the dust had settled from his departure, she slowly turned around. The chain felt especially heavy right now. Even if Abe had made her realize that she was free, she couldn’t actually live her life the way she wanted to if she was chained up in this cabin. She searched around the small kitchen and living room, and although she knew there was nothing that could break apart the thick padlock, or cut through the chain, she needed to search. She had no clue how long he would be gone. It could be minutes or hours, and every second counted.

She opened every drawer, threw wooden and plastic utensils on the ground, and then deserted the kitchen to search the living room. Aside from the small end table where a lamp sat and the coffee table, there weren’t any drawers she could search through. No, he had done a fine job of removing anything that she could use as a weapon. She looked out the window again when she thought she heard something. Her heart was pounding so hard now, and maybe that had been all it was. But she didn’t have time to sit and contemplate, or wonder how long she truly was going to be here.

Picking up the length of her chain beside her ankle, she moved quickly into the bathroom. She had searched in here as well nearly every time she took a shower. It was one of the only times he allowed her to be without the chain. Even when sleeping he kept her tethered to the wall, and anchored to his body.

When the bathroom came up with nothing but the few plastic shower bottles and some hygiene products, she moved down the hall and stopped in front of his closed bedroom door. He kept it locked in the daytime, but this lock wasn’t thick and made of steel. It was one of those cheap-looking ones built into the handle with a hole in the center. The door was also old, and when she shook the handle the whole frame seemed to move slightly. With one more look behind her and out the window, she moved back into the kitchen and searched the utensil graveyard. There were a few bamboo skewers, nothing that could be considered lethal, not unless she aimed just right, but it was as good as it was going to get right now.

After grabbing a skewer, she rushed back to the door. God, she felt foolish for even trying to open a lock with a stick of bamboo, but what else was she going to do? She tried to work it in the lock, and although it fit, when she tried jiggling it around she feared it would snap in half. Her hands shook, and adrenaline coursed through her body. But then she heard that click of the lock becoming unengaged. She quickly turned the handle and pushed the door open. She didn’t even know if there was anything of use in here. Yes, he had locked the door, but he clearly didn’t care about how sturdy the lock was if she could easily open it. She took several steps inside, but when the length of the chain stopped her from going any further she could have cried from the emotions moving through her veins. But as she looked around at the bare room the tears finally did fall. It was no use. She couldn’t even contemplate a plan for getting the fucking chain off her leg. And then she heard the crunch of tires as Abe came back. For a moment she thought about just standing in the room and not caring if he saw the destruction she’d caused. But survival won out and she quickly left the room, shut the door behind her, and went into the kitchen. She was in the process of picking up the cutlery that was scattered on the floor when she heard the front door open.

“Bethany, come out from there.”

She wiped the drying tears from her eyes, and right as she was about to stand she saw another skewer on the floor by her feet. Grabbing it and tucking it against her side, she slowly rose. Abe stood by the still open doorway holding a small brown paper bag. “Hi, I didn’t expect you back so soon.” She tried to calm herself and appear nonplussed. “I mean, I didn’t know when you were coming back, but I thought…” she glanced around the floor. “I thought I’d make us dinner. I couldn’t find something, and then I dropped everything.” She was rambling, and although Abe said nothing in response, he also didn’t move away from the door and showed no expression. She laughed nervously, and told herself to get a hold on her emotions or she wouldn’t be able to do what she had planned on doing. The wood skewer was becoming moist as her palms started to sweat.

“You planned on cooking dinner.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He slowly shut the door behind him and moved closer to her.

But she held her ground and smiled. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and laughed nervously. “I, I um, thought maybe we could talk about stuff.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “I know you’re right, Abe, and I’m ready to be a part of this with you.” When she opened her eyes again she felt strength fill her.

He set the bag on the counter and the loud clank of what was clearly a bottle inside of it sounded obscenely loud. “I don’t know if I should feel pleasure that you are finally understanding and admitting that you belong with me, or angry that you’re clearly trying to plot something.” He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

She looked at the bag again and realized that he hadn’t been gone for more than half an hour, even if it had felt like only minutes. Was there a store close by? She reached out for the bag, but stopped right before she grabbed it and looked at him. He watched her silently, stoically. When he didn’t stop her she opened the bag and reached inside. What she pulled out was a bottle of wine. It wasn’t just any wine, but the kind that was only available at one of the stores in Sinnerstown. Did he realize that, or was this just a ploy that he was showing her she was so close yet so far away?

“My favorite.” She gripped the neck of the bottle tightly. “Can you get us some glasses?”

He turned after a moment and grabbed the cups, and set them in front of her.

“How did you know?” Her voice shook slightly, but she willed herself to continue playing the good girl he wanted.

He took hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her head so that she was forced to look him in the face. He was like this dark, fallen angel, all dressed in black, and looking deadly and dangerous. “What are you trying to do, Bethany?” he asked low and deep.

She swallowed and shook her head as much as his grip allowed. “I’m not doing anything, just trying to accept this.”

“You’re trembling.” He paused for a moment. “You’re even more scared of me right now than I believe you have been this whole time.”

Yes, she was, but only because she was trying to leave. She couldn’t stay here and let her feelings for him escalate any more than they already had. He was drowning her in this false comfort, or at least she told herself it was false. She wanted to be able to choose where she went and with whom. Maybe at a different time and in a different mindset she could have found her way to Abe alone. She could certainly see herself with a powerful, dominant man, being loved, cherished and protected. And Abe seemed like he was all of those combined in a deadly, mentally unstable package. But who was she to say he was sick in the head? Sure, look at the things he had done to her, and the weight of the chain around her ankle was a steady, constant reminder of that. But who was mentally stable in this world anymore?

Staying at a place that she loathed, with people surrounding her that she hated, most certainly wouldn’t be considered sane to anyone. But that had been her life, and she was about to change it right now.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ABE SAT BACK at the kitchen table and watched Bethany move closer to him with a pot of spaghetti. With only a generator running the electricity in the house, he had stocked the cabin with more nonperishable items than with things stored in a refrigerator. He knew she was up to something, but he didn’t know what that something was. Abe was a master at reading people, and when he had first come back with the wine and he found her on the floor with the kitchen in a total disaster, he knew she had been trying to find something to aid in her escape. But she wouldn’t find anything, not without hours upon hours of searching. He kept a key for the lock on the ankle, but he had a spare hidden in his room under one of the floorboards. If something were to happen he wanted to make sure provisions had been set in place. But then again he didn’t anticipate anyone coming for them. Of course he was a suspect in the search. He had up and left without resignation from the employment of Robert. The typed letter he had left for her family was vague, but it had just enough information to lead them to believe she’d left of her own free will.

She set the pot on the table and the scent of tomato and garlic filled his nose. He had never had a home-cooked meal prepared for him, and although she was doing this most likely as a way to escape, he reveled in this one moment.

“Sit down, Bethany.” He grabbed the bottle of wine and poured them both some. He pushed her glass toward her once she was seated. The sound of the chain she wore clanking against the floor shouldn’t have turned him on, but seeing her bound did do something wicked to him. Even when he knew she wasn’t being genuine right now, he grew hard as he looked at her. Her hair was long and dark, slightly wavy and falling over her shoulders. Her bone structure was delicate, fragile even. In fact, her entire body was willowy, and the images of her long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist as he slammed into her played through his head over and over again. She had been chained when he had taken her a week ago, and as much as he wanted to fuck her every night, he had kept his distance. He wasn’t some sick fucking pervert, even if she thought that.

“You’re not hungry?” She pointed to the bowl of salad, the garlic bread sitting beside it, and the pan overflowing with pasta. She had easily made enough to feed a houseful of people instead of just the two of them. She had made all of it while he sat here and drank straight from the bottle of whiskey he had also brought from the winery well before he had taken her. Most likely she had thought she was far closer to home than she’d initially assumed. Yes, they were close, but he had stored the alcohol as well as a few other supplies in a storage shed a few miles up on the property. “Is this your home?” Now she was starting in on the small talk, warming up to him in an attempt to make him let his guard down further.

He smirked, not about to remind her of the training he’d had for half of his life. He leaned forward and pushed the salad bowl toward her. He had a nice buzz going, but he was also always with it. Never would he get to the point that he couldn’t protect her and make sure she was safe. She was what he wanted, what he had worked for this whole time, and he planned on making it stay that way. “Eat.” She only ate when he ordered her to, and that wouldn’t do. He had always liked a thicker form on a woman, and hers was far too thin.

She swallowed audibly and reached for the salad. After placing some on her plate, grabbing a spoonful of pasta and doing the same, she handed it over to him.

“You’re nervous again, Bethany.” He took the spoon for the pasta. After getting some portions on his plate, he leaned back in the chair. The truth was he wasn’t hungry, not when he was curiously aroused as to what she planned on doing.

“I am.” She flicked her gaze to his. “You didn’t answer my question about if this is your place.”

He stayed silent for a moment.

“I just figured if we are going to be together I should probably know more about you.” She spoke without a hint of uncertainty, and he had to give her credit for keeping her shit together.

“I purchased this property last year under an alias. It isn’t attached to me whatsoever.” He waited a moment for that to sink in, but she didn’t even blink, and instead continued eating. “That is one of the benefits in doing the line of work that I do, Bethany.” He leaned in another inch and rested his forearms on the table. “I can be anyone I want, access systems that are locked up so tight they don’t even know I was there.”

“That’s how you got to my money?” She breathed out heavily. “How you orchestrated everything?”

He nodded slowly. “Working for your father was not a plan of mine to get to you. But then there you were, and I knew I had to have you.” He felt no remorse for what he had done, and wouldn’t. “I am who I am, do what I do because that is all I know and it works, and make no apologies. You want to leave, and I am not so twisted that I don’t understand why you want to, but you and I are kindred souls.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. He tugged on it gently. “Come here.”

She stood right away and a surge of pleasure filled him at her obedience. She moved over to him, and the strength and confidence that suddenly came from her filled his head like a sweet, addicting drug.

“I just want to make you happy.”

He wished she was one hundred percent genuine on that, but even though he knew she was still hesitant, he did sense her confusion. She felt something for him. He had seen it in the way she looked at him, in the way she brushed up against him, but then, as if she realized what she was doing, she would frown slightly and move away. He stood and cupped her cheek. Lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers had his cock twitching behind his pants. But she didn’t shy away, and instead slipped one of her hands around the nape of his neck and pulled him closer. He groaned deeply against her lips, slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth, and moved closer so that his shaft pressed into her belly.

“I’m scared of a lot of things, Abe.”

He moaned again, loving her truthful fear, and her admittance of it all. “Being scared is the only real emotion we have in this life, Bethany.” They kissed for long seconds, and then those seconds turned into minutes of panting, sucking, licking and nipping. “I’m going to fuck you tonight.” He ran his tongue along the swell of her bottom lip. “I’m going to have you hot, sweaty, and screaming out my name.”

She moaned and slipped her hand up the back of his head, pulling him even closer.

He moved his hands over her shoulders, down her back, and gripped her ass. She might only have been wearing the unflattering sweats and t-shirt, but God she made him harder than he had ever been.

“Take this chain off and let me really be with you, Abe.”

He loved the way she said his name, and how she added a little moan at the end when he squeezed her ass. He had to give her credit, she could be a seductress when the time called for it. He pulled away and cupped either side of her face. “I know you want me.” He moved one of his hands down her belly, slipped it under the waistband of her sweats into her panties, and felt the light covering of silky hair that covered her mound. “I bet you’re soaked for me, Bethany.” He lightly pressed his mouth to hers. He moved his fingers through her wet folds, and lower still to the opening of her body. “You’re fucking soaked for me, baby.”

She gasped when he slid his finger into her body, and instantly her inner muscles clenched around the digit.

“No one will ever love you the way I love you, Bethany.” He pumped his finger in and out of her slowly. “No one will make you feel this alive, or this good.” He ran his tongue along her lips. “And no one will protect you with their last breath like I will.” He tasted her tears as he continued to stroke his tongue along her mouth. She tasted good when she was crying. “For the past year my obsession grew to the point that I knew I loved you with everything inside of me. I would kill for you.” He pumped his finger deep into her. “I won’t let anyone else have you.”

“Abe, please.”

He felt her resistance breaking, her actual resistance and not this façade she was trying to fake. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good, that I don’t make you feel better than you ever have in your life.”

She gasped against his mouth and pulled slightly back from him so she could look in his eyes. “Abe…” She closed her eyes when he started pumping in and out of her harder and faster.

Yeah, she liked exactly what he did to her. “Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me, baby.” He went back to kissing her, showing her that they were two parts of the same whole, that she was his other half, and that their lives could be brought together to be perfection. But as he kissed her harder and faster, wanting to be buried so deep inside of her that they were no longer two separate people, but one person, he sensed a change in her. It was a resolve, a shift in the pressure of her mouth on his, and a change in her breathing. He heard the scrape of wood on metal right as he pulled back and started to turn his head. And then he saw the pan coming right at him.

IT TOOK a lot for Bethany not to throw up as soon as the pan connected with the side of Abe’s head. The sound of the metal hitting his skull made this sickening noise that filled her head. She was already running on adrenaline from when she’d first decided to do this and for a moment as he kissed and touched her she feared that she’d lose her nerve. He just made her feel so alive, and his words and the way he touched her enflamed her to the point that all she wanted to do was melt into him and forget about everything.

She had purposefully cooked so much pasta that her muscles strained from holding it. This was all a spur of the moment plan, one that she didn’t even know would work, but one she had to at least try. He fell to the floor, a low groan leaving him as he hit the ground. She expected him to get up right away, but when a trail of blood started to slip down his temple she knew she had only a few precious moments. She crouched and started running her hands over his pockets, slipping them inside, trying to find the key. He wore his standard black cargo pants and there were more than four pockets to go through. She was becoming even more frustrated and hopeless as she came up empty-handed. And then she found the key in his side pocket, quickly searched out the one that would fit in the lock at her ankle, and slid it in. The sound of that lock disengaging was music to her ears, but there was also this other emotion that moved through her, a different kind of fear, of what would be on the outside of this cabin. It wasn’t because of the woods that surrounded them, but of the life she was going back to. But she had to try, had to tell them she hadn’t left, that she was alive, and that she was getting the fuck away from them and living on her own terms.

She quickly kicked the chain away and all but ran to the front door. Abe was starting to groan and shift on the floor. She had caught him off guard, obviously, but he wouldn’t stay down for long. This was a lucky break for her. If he hadn’t have gone down she would have been screwed as well as not known what else to do. She all but tore the front door open and ran across the porch, down the stairs, and into the woods. She had on only a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of socks, but she didn’t care, because she needed to get out of here for her own sanity, safety, and livelihood. But the problem was it was dark, and she had no clue where she was. He had brought her the wine from the exclusive winery in Sinnerstown, but she realized very soon after she looked at it that just because he had it didn’t mean they were close to anything remotely familiar. But she had been grasping for a lot of things at the moment, and in the heat of it all had grabbed onto the hope that everything would be okay. She was a damn fool.

She ran hard and fast across the dirt-covered ground, but she knew she had to get away from the main path of travel because when he did come after her—which she knew he would—it would be easy for him to pick her off. You stupid fucking fool. Abe is a trained killer. You actually think you can hide from him?

“Shut up,” she whispered to herself and ran harder. The moon was high and bright, but the branches were thick on the evergreen and blue spruces, and only when they parted sporadically did she see the silvery glow on the ground before her. The rocks and sticks punctured her socks, and through the pain she pushed on further and harder. There were times when it felt like her heart would beat right through her chest when she heard a noise behind her, but no way in hell would she stop. She couldn’t, because although he’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, after what she had done she didn’t doubt she had pushed him over the edge.

It felt like she had been running for miles upon miles. Her lungs burned, sweat covered her entire body, and her arms and feet ached from the debris of the forest. She pushed away a branch and it scraped her along the forearm. Searing pain lanced up her arm, but all of that discomfort faded when she saw a road. She ran the last couple of feet, pushed away the overgrowth that blocked her escape, and when she finally broke free she nearly fell onto her knees. The asphalt felt incredible on her feet, but she wasn’t nearly safe. There were no signs where she was standing, but she also knew she needed to keep going and stay off the road. Being out in the open was dangerous. Now that she was on smooth ground she realized how painful the bottoms of her feet were. She limped across the way, and slinked back behind the trees on the other side of the road. For just a second she allowed herself to lean against one of the thick trunks and catch her breath. She tried to be quiet but she felt like she was so loud that Abe would be able to find her from her breathing alone.

Turning around and holding onto the bark, she peered around the trunk and scanned from left to right. She didn’t see anything, and didn’t hear anything aside from the obnoxiously loud noises coming from her. She looked down the road to her left, and did the same to her right. It was just a long stretch of darkness on either side of her, and she had no clue which direction town was. But standing here wasn’t going to get her any closer to anything, so she needed to keep moving. She took a right and kept to the trees, always scanning the surroundings because she knew at any moment Abe was going to come for her.

She walked, and walked, and walked some more until she felt the warmth of blood come from the soles of her feet and they became numb. Sweat still continued to pour from her, but she refused to slow, refused to give up, and refused to allow the thoughts of still wanting Abe to consume her. Why did she have to want him? Was she suffering from some form of Stockholm Syndrome? Was she that brainwashed after only a week of being in his presence, of feeling him touch her, stroke her, and kiss her, that she couldn’t think rationally? He had told her he loved her, that no one would ever love her like he did. But they hadn’t just been empty words. She had actually felt the emotion and truth as he spoke to her. But how deranged was she that she actually felt pleasure knowing her captor had taken her, touched her, and professed his love? Could she actually care about someone like that?

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” She gripped her head and pulled at her hair, trying to focus on what was really important.

She swore she had been walking for hours, and although the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, and the feeling of being watched was strong inside of her, she brushed it off as her nerves and the fear she felt. Surely if Abe was close and watching her he would have taken action already. No, she was paranoid because of the situation. She hadn’t seen any vehicles, but then again if she had she probably wouldn’t have asked for help anyway for fear that it might be Abe. Finally, after what felt like ages, she saw the lights of Sinnerstown. A choked sound left her, but she honestly couldn’t tell if it was joy or despair at the fact that she was close to her old life again. Her father’s estate was on the edge of town, closer than she even realized, but soon she stepped back onto the road and moved toward the long, winding street up to the mansion. It was another long and painful trek up the road, but then she saw the massive wrought-iron gates that blocked entrance to her father’s home. There were two guards stationed beside the gate, and although she couldn’t see any weapons, she knew they were armed.

“Who’s there?” one of the guards called out and took a step forward. The other man did the same, and they both placed their hands at their sides, by their guns.

“It’s me. God, please help me.” She swallowed the dryness in her throat and stumbled forward.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BETHANY FELT a kind of dread settle in the closer she got to them. The mansion stood in all its lit glory atop the hill beyond the gate.

“Miss Sterling?” one of the men called out.

“Shit, it’s Bethany Sterling.” Both men rushed up to her and grabbed her before she fell to the ground. “Marcus, call up at the house and tell them Bethany is out here.”

She reached out. “No, wait, please.” For some reason those words came from her on their own. She didn’t want them knowing she was here just yet, but she couldn’t understand why she felt that way. The men looked hesitant, but they both nodded and carried her to the gate. There was a small SUV parked to the side, and once they had her inside and the gates open, they drove up to the house.

“Miss, we should really inform Mr. Sterling you’re here,” said the man that was sitting in the backseat with her.

She shook her head, but kept her focus forward. The guard driving kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t speak. The drove up to the mansion was quick, and when they parked the SUV in front of the driveway and helped her out, she found the strength to hold herself up. There were a few young valet boys that stared at her with wide expressions, but they looked more frightened than anything else. They moved past the entrance, down the long ornate hallway, and into the sitting room just before the great room where most of the parties her mother and father held were located. She could hear music coming from the closed doors, and even though she couldn’t see that there was a party going on inside, she knew they were celebrating.

“A party.” She had meant to think that instead of say it out loud, but at her words both of the guards stopped and looked at her.

“Yes, Miss. Mr. Sterling landed a rather big account with his firm, and they are throwing a dinner party because of it.”

She stared at the man who spoke, but words failed her for several seconds as she processed it all. She had been missing for a week, and even though there had been a note and they had been led to believe she had run from her “obligations,” it had still been only a week. How hard had her father really tried to find her? Clearly he hadn’t used every resource at his disposal or he surely would have known she was at some obscure cabin in the woods. But strangely, after that revelation she had no tears or sorrow because a dinner party was more important to her father than making sure she was even alive. She pushed past the guards. After gripping the handles and taking a deep breath, she opened the doors and stared at the fifty-plus people in the great room. Some danced, others stood by the buffet or the bar, but her sight was riveted on her mother and father, who spoke with a group of people. Steven was amongst those men and women. The men were dressed in perfectly tailored and pressed suits, and the women in formal evening attire. And here she stood in ratty sweats, a disgusting and torn shirt, and covered in dirt and blood.

No one noticed her for several minutes, and she certainly didn’t make her presence known. All Bethany could do was stare at the falseness that surrounded her: the laughter, the ticking of expensive jewelry clanking against the crystal glasses, and the plastered-on smiles of the party guests. She had been so much better locked away in that cabin and chained to that wall. And then, as if the music suddenly stopped and the voices dimmed, one by one they turned and stared at her. The gasps that came from the women, and the deep murmurs from the men all spoke of the same thing: shock at her filthy and rundown appearance. When her mother and father turned and noticed her, the sound of glass breaking as her mother dropped her champagne flute filled the room.

“Bethany? Oh my word,” her mother said in a shocked voice.

Her father said nothing, just stared at her with a disgusted look on his face. No doubt her appearance would cause embarrassment to him. But no, don’t let him come closer, reveal that she was actually alive, and thank God that she was here. Steven also had a look of shock on his face, but she noticed he kept glancing at her father, as if waiting for the cue to react accordingly.

“Where on earth have you been?” her father asked in his ever-present cool voice.

Her mother stepped closer, but as if she, too, were disgusted over the leaves in Bethany’s hair, the dirt that covered her skin, and the blood on her arms and feet. She looked at her father, and then at Steven, and then ended on her mother.

“You’re hurt.” Her mother was like Robert’s puppet, doing as he said, when he said, and only taking her direction from him. But there was a glimmer of something motherly reflected back at Bethany. But then again that might just be her trying to find the good and right in this even more fucked-up situation.

She just couldn’t keep her mouth closed, couldn’t hold in these feelings of hatred and loathing that surrounded her. Maybe that was one of the good things about being with Abe? He had showed her that she could stand up for herself. “I am missing, but you throw a party for a promotion?” She kept her voice strong, refusing to show anyone that this was the last nail in the coffin of her fake life.

“Bethany, you’ll watch your tongue, young lady,” her father said harshly, and glanced around the room.

“I embarrass you,” she said without remorse. No longer would Bethany allow him or anyone else to suffocate her.

Robert said nothing, and made no move.

“Darling, where have you been?” Steven said and moved closer, but when she held up her hand to stop him she also glared.

“You don’t come close to me.”

“Bethany, honey, let’s go upstairs.” And there was her mother, trying to smooth everything out with that saccharine voice that was as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard.

All she did was nod, look at the three of them once more, and turn her back on them. She had come back for what? To tell them that she was alive, and hope against all odds that they would welcome her with open arms? Had she actually believed that they would see the life they had put her in? They lived in this the sheltered existence where selfishness consumed them. She was at the point that she would gladly go back to being Abe’s prisoner.

She pushed past the guards that looked as dumbstruck as she felt, and headed back down the hallway and up the ornate stairs. The sound of footsteps following her didn’t have her stopping and turning. Bethany wanted her shit and she wanted out. Once in her room she shut the door and walked over to small vase pushed behind her first-edition books. Her room hadn’t changed, and even looked as if they still had the maid coming in once a day to clean. Grabbing the vase and opening the lid, she breathed out when she saw the wad of money she had been saving for far longer than she could even remember. The bank account had been official, but this was her own stash, one that she had dreamt would be used for travels abroad, or for purchasing something that wasn’t approved of by her father and mother.

She went to her closet, grabbed one of her bags, and started filling it with clothes. She was in the process of getting underwear and socks out of her dresser when her bedroom door crashed open. She spun, saw her enraged father and worried-looking mother, and ignored both of them. She was getting the hell out of here and never looking back. She knew where she had stood in their lives, and this situation hadn’t changed their views on anything.

“You’ll tell me why in the hell you thought you could run off like that, and then suddenly come back looking like…” He scanned her form up and down, his disgust even more evident with each passing second. “…looking like you have been out screwing in the woods like a damn animal.”

A choked sound left her at her father’s cruel words. No questions of if she was okay, of where she had been, and why she had “left” the way she had.

“Well? No daughter of mine is going to come into my home—”

“Robert, please calm down. Your blood pressure.” And then there was her mother, placating and smothering her father because she was the perfect little Stepford wife.

Steven moved past her mother and father and smiled. “Bethany, sweetheart, what happened to you?” He reached his hand out toward her and she looked down at it.

She shook her head, grabbed the bag on top of her dresser, and shoved the money inside. She wanted no part of this. “You guys sit here in your designer clothes with your emeralds, diamonds, and Cuban cigars, and look down at everyone else that doesn’t meet your standards.” She was crying now, but they were angry tears, hateful tears, and they had been a long time coming.

“You expect us to approve of you leaving when you’re set to marry Steven? You shamed this family, and then you run out of fun on your little tryst and come back here looking like a vagrant.”

“Is that all you think of me, as some kind of pawn to do with as you please?” She closed her eyes, shook her head, and chuckled humorlessly. “Of course you do. What a stupid, stupid girl I have been to think you cared about me or what happened to me. I was better off at—” She stopped, cut herself off because something inside of her told her to shut up. These people didn’t deserve anything from her, let alone an explanation of where she had been.

“Where were you?” her father asked again, his voice just as hard as it had been when he’d first seen her. There was no warmth, no love…not like she had felt with Abe during her short time with him. God, if that didn’t open up her eyes to reality she didn’t know what would.

“Bethany, no one is angry with you. We just want to know that you were okay.” Steven moved closer to her.

No, they didn’t want to know that she was okay. They only cared about themselves. “Leave,” she said softly. No one moved. “Leave,” she said louder, with more force, and made sure to make eye contact with each of them. Her mother and Steven left, but of course Robert stayed, trying to exert his dominance. It was a very familiar situation.

“Shut the door, Steven,” her father said without taking his gaze off of her. When the door shut her father exhaled loudly, closed his eyes, and grumbled something under his breath.

“I have nothing to say to you. I have no explanation as to what happened.” Oh, she could tell him the truth, but what difference would it really make?

None.

“Do you realize your little exertion cost me a lot of money, put this family under the media spotlight, and humiliated the Sterling name?”

All she could do was shake her head. “For my entire life it has always been about you and the Sterling name.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t respond.

“Look at me.” She clenched her jaw at his bland expression. “Really fucking look at me, Dad.” Bethany had never cursed to her father, and she was pleased to see this flicker of his resistance lower because of it. “Does it look like I’ve been gallivanting around the woods, or playing house with someone?” She held her arms out. “I’m tired, dirty, and even where I was I knew that all that glitters is not gold. You are not my family, and everyone in this fucking house can go screw themselves. But especially you, Father.”

He scanned his gaze up and down her body once more. “I’ve been looking at you your whole life, Bethany,” he said once he was looking at her face once more. “And all I’ve seen is a disappointment to the Sterling name.”

She wouldn’t cry over his coarse words. “You won’t have to worry about me being a stain on your legacy anymore. Go back to your party, forget about me like you always did unless it suited you, and let others handle your dirty work for you.” To think she had felt any amount of love for this man. She had only been gone for a week, and even if he said he had people working on her case to find her, she knew he was full of shit. He thought she had left like everyone else had, and because of that he had put her out of his mind and gone on with his life. They all had.

He curled his lip, and although she had a feeling he had more to say, Robert Sterling was not a man that spoke out of place very often.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll pack my shit and go back to where I was.” That wasn’t really the truth. She didn’t think going back to Abe or the cabin was the solution to her problems. She was going to try the world on her own, and although she had only saved the few thousand dollars in cash, she could do anything she set her mind to.

Her father glared at her for several more seconds, and then without uttering a word he turned and headed out of her room. She saw her mother and Steven right on the other side, and when her mother acted like she was going to come forward and speak to Bethany, Robert grabbed her arm and steered her away. And of course her mother didn’t protest. Steven moved closer once her parents left, but didn’t enter her room.

“Steven, please just leave. I have nothing to say to you.” He was just as fake as the rest of them. He had yet to move, and so she glared at him the same as he was doing to her.

“You fucked up a lot of shit, Bethany.” His voice was just as icy as her father’s, but that was the real Steven talking. “You and I could have had a lush life.” She slowly shook her head. “You fucked up, and now Robert will cut you off, as he should. I hope you like living out of the circle, Bethany, because there is no way anyone will let you back in now.” He didn’t say anything else, just turned and stalked back to the party.

She slammed the door and walked over to her bed. For a moment she just stood there, staring at the shit that had been her life since the day she was born. She sat on the edge of the bed, and the tears that came from her this time were real, and painful, and from not having the love she had longed for since she was a little girl. But that was the past—even if the past had just been minutes before—and she wasn’t going to go there. Glancing down at her ankle, she saw the redness that circled it from the chain. It had been loose enough that it wasn’t painful, but she couldn’t count how many times she had struggled to get it off. That tug and pull had lightly bruised her skin. But looking at that mark on her flesh didn’t send a flash of disgust through her, but a sense of stability and pleasure, and a torrent of other emotions. She would feel it again, think about it a hundred different ways, but in the end she knew she had been freer during her seven days with Abe than she had in her entire life.

She stood and wiped her tears away, grabbed her bag, and got the fuck out of hell. Not looking at anyone, or speaking to any of the assholes that had strangulated her more times than she could count, she left the mansion and made her way down the long driveway. She knew she’d have to speak with the police, but she also knew she wasn’t going to tell them about Abe. There was just something in her that said telling them she was kidnapped and held against her will wasn’t the route she wanted to take. It wouldn’t matter either way, because even if Abe was conscious now, he was smart enough that he had probably already left town. A sick and dreadful sensation filled her, and she had to stop and hold her stomach as the feelings intensified. Why should she care where Abe was?

Because in your heart, hell, in your bones you know that you want him even through all of this.

That might be the truth, but she wasn’t going to go back into that right now. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced around, but only saw the darkness of the forest surrounding them. She looked over her shoulder, saw her father and Steven standing on the porch with cigars hanging from between their lips, and took a deep, strengthening breath. How foolish she must look to them, standing in front of this mansion in grungy clothing with a bag hanging from her hand. She turned back around, scanned the woods once more, and felt that sensation that she was being watched. Pushing those feelings away, she continued down the driveway and right through the front gate. Fuck them, and fuck everything they represented.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JUNE 2014—Two months later

Her life was no longer glamorous, no longer rich and filled with socialites and parties with gold and dripping diamonds. Her home was now a one-bedroom apartment, and compared to what she’d used to live in it was a hovel and a place her father and everyone that he associated with would call poverty.

She sat in front of the computer at the library and stared at the screen. Over the last two months she had tried to get away from everything that had to do with her parents. It was hard because she did love them, but the lack of compassion that they still showed made her realize that she was not a part of their world. Maybe she had been foolish to try and reconcile some kind of relationship with them after she left their house those two months ago. It certainly served them right, but after her mother contacted her, wanted to have lunch with her and talk, Bethany had thought maybe at least her mom had seen the error of her ways. But that lunch had just been a way for her mother to implore Bethany to apologize to her father. Hell, her mom hadn’t even told her father she had gone out to lunch with her own daughter for fear of his anger. That was it, when Bethany had called it all quits and moved out of Sinnerstown. She might only be in the next town over, but for starters that was good enough for her.

The police had come and talked to her, but it had been easy enough with her staying in the only motel in town. Of course they had wanted to know where she had been, and if she had left voluntarily. The interrogation—which was what it had felt like—hadn’t lasted long, because she had nothing to say to them.

“Yes, Officer, I did leave voluntarily.”

“I came back because I thought my parents deserved to hear it from my mouth as to why I had left, Officer.”

“No, sir, I was not kidnapped.”

“No, I don’t really know Abraham Sparrow, or where he has gone.”

Even as she told them she hadn’t been kidnapped, she had been able to tell they didn’t believe her. But they had no choice.

She hit print and listened to the map of the woods surrounding Sinnerstown being printed out. She turned in her seat and grabbed the piece of paper. It showed an aerial view of the land. There were a few houses closer to city limits, but it wasn’t those houses she was interested in, but the one more in the center of the land. It sat there like a lone stranger calling out for isolation and peace. Hadn’t she found a level of that there? She was still so confused about her emotions, but then again, she assumed that was normal, given the circumstances. Even though it had only been a couple of months, she knew what she ultimately wanted wouldn’t just vanish, and what she wanted was to see Abe again. What had surprised her was that Abe hadn’t come after her. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t tracked her down, why he hadn’t dragged her back to the cabin and professed his dark love for her. Had she killed him? That thought had played through her mind over and over again. It was like Abe just up and disappeared. She might not have told the police about who had actually taken her, but they knew. Obviously it was suspicious that Abe had left the same time she had, and the authorities weren’t stupid. But it was like he never even existed because no one could find out anything about him. And once again she hadn’t felt right giving them the information they would need to connect Abe to her kidnapping. It was strange to protect him in such a way, but the feelings had been so strong that she couldn’t ignore them. And then when she tried to find out where this cabin actually was, but the only reference was of one owned by a Mitchel Greenlocke. It could be an alias, or it could be that Abe had taken her to a place owned by another, and one he knew would be vacant for an extended amount of time. Who was to say what he told her in that cabin was the truth?

She folded the piece of paper, shoved it in her purse, and stood. She left the library, got in her used POS, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She certainly wasn’t living the plush life, but she didn’t care. Money wasn’t everything, and the sad, hard truth was that family wasn’t everything either. Robert had indeed cut her off financially. She had gotten a certified letter from his attorney telling her that all financial assistance had ceased. She had crumpled up that note and tossed it in the trash.

She grabbed the paper out of her purse and stared at the map once more. She was about an hour from where the cabin was, but she had been thinking about doing this ever since she’d left him. Now that she was on her own, had a job—albeit a crappy-paying one at the local bakery—she was doing this all on her own.

Three hours later Bethany was trying to navigate her way through the thick, overgrown woods. The road was narrow, and branches scraped against the side of her car. She was lost, that much was clear, and honestly she didn’t even know if that cabin was the one Abe had kept her in. She was purely going on instinct here, and despite her anxiety rising with each passing second, she knew she was doing the right thing. If she didn’t do this, that nagging voice inside of her would drive her insane. Did she think that Abe would still be at the cabin? Of course not, but she wanted to go back, like some kind of sick individual wanting to relive what at first she’d thought was a nightmare.

And then the trees parted and she saw the cabin up in the distance. She hadn’t seen the exterior when she’d escaped, which had been the only time during her week there that she had stepped outside of the structure, but in her heart she knew this was the right place. She pulled the car to a stop in front of the porch and cut the engine. Then she was unbuckling her seat belt and climbing out. It seemed like she was in another world, standing amidst the towering trees that blocked out the rest of the world. She felt no fear, no anxiety anymore as she stood and stared at the front door. And then she found herself moving closer to the cabin, stepping up onto the porch, and reaching out for the handle. It was cool and hard to her touch, but gradually warmed the longer she held it. She turned the handle and pushed it open. The scent of a house that had been locked up for some time filled her nose. Dust, age, and staleness surrounded her, and although they were unpleasant aromas, there was a calming sensation that moved through her.

She took a step inside and looked at the kitchen. Everything was cleaned up and in its rightful order. No pot of rotting pasta on the floor, and no dead body of the man she had whacked upside the head. Relief filled her that she hadn’t walked in to a coffin of death and decay. She glanced at the living room and her gaze focused right on where the metal padlock had been that had kept her prisoner for so long. It was gone, and as she moved through the house and inspected each location where Abe had kept her tethered to the wall, she saw that all of them had been removed. It was like this had never happened, like they had never been here. She couldn’t say she had dreamt all of this, and not just for the obvious reasons. She thought about Abe each and every day. He was the first thing on her mind when she woke up, and the last thing when she fell asleep. He consumed her even though she was no longer with him, and she felt this emptiness in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge that he was alone.

Moving into the bedroom she had shared with him, she looked at the bed, remembered what they had done on it, and actually felt herself grow warm and wet. He had touched her in a way that she had never even imagined, opened her eyes to this feeling of being alive and free, even when she hadn’t been in the literal sense. She took a step closer to the bed, and then another one, and when she could touch it she did just that. Reaching out and running her hands over the comforter that had covered their bodies as he held her, Bethany closed her eyes. And then she felt it, that light shift in the air, that feeling that she was being watched again. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and she turned around and stared at the man that had been consuming her entire being for the last two months. The room was shrouded in shadows, but she knew it was Abe, could smell that dark and spicy scent that had embedded itself in her nose, and she took a step forward.

“You’re here,” she whispered, but stopped after only moving forward a foot.

“I never left.”

He didn’t elaborate, but she knew he wasn’t speaking about staying in this cabin.

“You’ve been watching me this whole time.”

He nodded once, but made no move to come closer. “Did you think I would just walk away from you, Bethany?” He did move forward now. “Did you think that you running could keep me away?”

She reached behind her and gripped the metal slats of the bedframe. “You did stay away, though.”

He shook his head and moved closer yet. He looked like an animal about to tear her to pieces. “No, I never left. I watched and waited for you to do what I knew you would.” He stopped and reached out to take a piece of her hair between his fingers. “You are now free and alive…” he leaned in close so their lips were inches apart. “…but you’re barely living. Isn’t that right?”

She found herself nodding without even realizing she was doing the act until it had already been done. “Yes, I am barely living.” Did she need to tell him that it was because of his absence that she felt this hollowness inside of her? She knew she didn’t, because she could see the truth in his dark eyes. “I always felt this presence.” She closed her eyes and trembled as he brushed his lips across hers.

“You always felt me.” He grabbed a chunk of her hair in one hand, tilting her head back, and used the other one to reach around her body to secure her wrists in his strong hold. “I told you that you were mine, and that I wouldn’t let you go.” He pulled back enough that he could look in her eyes.

“You just disappeared,” she said on a shaky breath and clenched her hands into tight balls. “I tried to find you—”

“My sweet, sweet Bethany.” He kissed her lightly on the lips as he tightened his hold on her wrists painfully. That had a spark of pleasure and pain filling her. “You hurt me, ran from me, and went back to that life that I knew wasn’t really yours,” he said in a firmer voice, and his anger was becoming more tangible. “But I didn’t stop you, even though I tracked you the entire way, watched you walk through those gates to that prison, and even saw you come back out with your bag in hand.” He pulled her head back slightly so her throat was arched even further. “But I knew this is what you needed to realize where you belonged.”

He didn’t speak for several long seconds, and she knew what she wanted to hear, what she wanted him to say. “And where do I belong?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a dark, pleased smile. “You belong with me, with my restraints holding you down, keeping you prisoner but also setting you free.” He kissed her then, hard and demanding. “Tell me you believe this and we can start from the beginning, go wherever you please, and never think about the regrets of our past,” he murmured against her lips, and pulled back enough that she could answer.

But Bethany didn’t answer right away, didn’t know what to say. She wanted this, missed this with him even, but now that she was faced with it did she have the courage? He let go of her hair and gripped her chin. They stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds, and then she took a deep breath, and knew what she needed to say. “I want to feel alive, Abe.”

He smoothed a thumb over her cheek and lowered his gaze to her mouth.

“I want to feel alive with you.”

And then he kissed her again, took her in that hard and possessive way that she had grown pliant for when she had been taken away from her prison of lies and false love. She wanted to be here, with him, and let Abe release her in the dark and pleasure-filled way that he knew she desperately needed.

She wanted to be his.

EPILOGUE

A GASP. Cry of pleasure. A pull of the restraints that bound her. This was how her life was now, where she had ended up. This wasn’t a fairy tale ending. There were no birds chirping, no choir singing, and definitely no white wedding with loved ones surrounding her. This was Bethany’s life, and she was sharing it with the man that had kidnapped her, the man that had kept her chained up, the man she had fallen in love with.

It was months past now, and they were far, far away from the life she had once been submersed in. They were settled in their own cabin in the woods, a different one than the place Abe had first taken her to, and opened up her eyes that she needed to be more proactive with how she wanted to live her life. Abe pushed deep inside of her, and a cry of pleasure left her for the hundredth time. He was dragging this session out, thrusting deep and hard, but then right when she was on the precipice of coming he’d slow down and torment her.

“You’re a sick bastard.” Of course she said the words in the heat of the moment. They were not an insult, but a declaration that what he was doing to her was so, so good. Their relationship was certainly not conventional, and to others would most definitely seem fucked-up beyond repair. But to Bethany it was what she needed—what she had always needed. And for her that was good enough.

“You like the things I do to you.” He pumped into her hard enough that her back slid up the bed. “You like being my dirty girl, and like that I can do whatever the fuck I want to you.” He started moving faster and harder now, and she knew he was close to coming. Sweat lined their bodies, and she watched as a bead dripped from his hairline, moved along his temple, and dropped onto her breast. God, it felt so good that she could have come right then if she just let herself go. But she was greedy for what he was doing to her and she wanted it to last as long as she could.

“You want exactly what only I can give you, don’t you, Bethany.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He slammed into her, and a gasp of pain and pleasure came from her. “I want you to come, want to see you let go for me.” He was fucking her like a madman now.

In and out. In and out.

And then she came undone around him, exploding with so much force stars bounced in front of her vision and her entire body clenched. Abe came right after her but he pulled out, sat back on his haunches between her legs, and started stroking himself. His bicep flexed every time he moved his hand down the base of his shaft, and then he was coming all over her. Great white arcs of semen came from the tip of him, landed on her belly and breasts, and continued to come forth until his abdomen was clenched hard enough that his six-pack stood out starkly. He covered her with his cum, and when he wasn’t heaving any longer he reached out and smeared it over her lower belly, down the top of her mound, and pushed those cum-soaked fingers into her body.

She opened her mouth on a soundless cry as he pumped those digits in and out of her. She was helpless to his onslaught of ownership, but she tugged on the bonds that kept her hands tied above her head and spread her legs even wider. He slipped his fingers from her and lifted them so she could see that they were covered with their combined completion. And then he brought his open palm down on her pussy with an audible smack, and she came once again. He didn’t stop slapping her sensitive and swollen pussy until tears streamed down her face and she begged him to cease.

He leaned forward, pushed her sweaty hair away from her face and whispered, “You’re covered in my cum, smell like me, and get off just from me telling you to.” He ran his tongue along her lips. “If that doesn’t decree ownership of you I don’t know what else does.”

“Abe, you know I am yours.”

He leaned back and smirked. “Tell me again.”

“I’m yours.” She stared into his dark, turbulent eyes, and knew that this man could have crushed her without breaking a sweat. He was an animal in human flesh, a machine with a living heartbeat, and he was all hers.

He groaned and kissed her hard, and she arched her back. She pressed her breasts to his slick, hard chest, and she knew that she would never get enough of this agony and ecstasy from him. They were in this together, and what better way to experience life than to have every sensation given to her? Abe was the one that did that for her, and she was not going to look back now.

“You’re mine, Bethany.”

Yes she was, and it was a bittersweet feeling.

The End

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JOURNEYMAN SERIES ONE

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. All Rights Reserved.

In accordance with the United States Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, or sharing of any part of this work without the permission of the copyright holder is unlawful theft of the author’s intellectual property.

Cover Model: Caylan Hughes

Cover Photography and Design: FuriousFotog

Editor: Kellie Montgomery

Formatting: Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

WARNING: This book is for mature readers only. Not for children. It contains adult themes, violence, coarse language, sexual situations, nudity, and paranormal themes.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Eric, I could not have done any of this without you. From the tireless nagging about words and plot lines, to the countless days and nights spent away from you cultivating not only this story but the Furious brand in general - your patience knows absolutely no bounds. For that, and especially your love over the past 18 years, I am forever grateful.

FuriousFans, what can I say? There are way too many of you to name individually here, but I am frankly blessed, humbled, and amazed by all the support you have shown. It truly does mean the world to me and never would I have imagined being able to do any of this without it. The fact that there are, literally, millions of you around the world blows my mind each and every day. Here’s to new adventures, especially now with Gage Crosse, and of course more as the future becomes the present.

Last but certainly not least, Caylan Hughes. I think your sheer presence and personality are enough to explain to those that know you, but in case anyone reading does not: You. Are. Gage. Back in November 2014, I never would have imagined when that bulky (haha yes, I went there) red-haired model showed up in that massive white truck, that such a great friendship would be kindled both in front of the camera and in real life as well. We’ve only just started my man, with Gage and with all the rest. Thank you for your friendship, your inspiration, your love, and more.

CHAPTER ONE

ONE NIGHT IN HOUSTON

THE NIGHT WIND was biting as it gnawed through the drizzle that cloaked the rusty factory in gray. Lifeless leaves clung to withered trees while their skeletal branches tapped against the peeled metal and worn stone, rattled by the tormenting breeze. The place had a look of being long abandoned, but shadowed figures moving between the cracked panes of glass betrayed the dead air.

At a distant side entrance, a beat up truck crept off the county road onto the middle-of-nowhere property with its lights off. Mud squelched under its aged tires while lightning cleaved the sky, illuminating “Danger” and “No Trespassing” signs tucked in amidst the overgrowth lining the narrow driveway. Three indistinct figures were sitting inside the 79 GMC quad cab as it slid off into the cover of dense brush. Its doors swung open as the vehicle came to a slow roll, then stopped shortly after.

Joey Mosely was first out. He darted from the rear seat toward the back of the truck, light puffs of his steamy breath trailing behind like a train. The young man was in a wrinkled white tee, tight over his muscular chest, along with a pair of weathered jeans and a hand-me-down Member's Only jacket. Extending an arm, he pulled himself up into the truck bed, crouching in front of a large weatherproof box positioned underneath the rear window. Two additional boxes were on either side; all were tightly shut.

Fingers like chopsticks felt around in his jacket pockets, touching the all too familiar softness and crunch of wadded paper. A frown met the first ball of gum wrappers he pulled out, the disappointment growing with the candy ones that came next, and yet more so with the countless sticky notes that somehow fit inside too, all useless since the ink had bled out long ago. Flinging them aside, he dove back in and thankfully after a few seconds found the hard metal he was looking for, removing it before inserting the oddly notched cylinder into a round keyhole at the top of the lid.

Ancient glyphs of different shapes and sizes were painted along the outside. As the key turned and the tumblers moved, the symbols glowed with faint energy and the cool metal surface became warm to the touch. The lid slowly rose by itself with a whisper, like voices carried from long ago and a force blew through the opening into Joey’s chin-length hair, causing it to whip up briefly then flop back down to block his view.

Sweeping away the stray black strands, he reached inside where a plethora of arcane weapons, items, and technological devices waited – tucked haphazardly amongst rich fabrics embroidered with even more charms and symbols. The contents seemed to glimmer eagerly with each flash from the passing storm, waiting to be picked up and used.

Adrienne Elkins slipped herself out of shotgun position. The denim jacket she wore with her solid black top and jeans fit her late twenties figure quite well. She surveyed the area for any signs that their approach was noticed. The forest was dingy except for the now faint pricks of lightning and white light of the waning crescent moon that streamed down through the treetops. Thankfully, nothing indicated they were in any immediate danger; even the crickets chirped in chorus uninterrupted.

Grabbing her Cougars baseball cap from the glove box, she tucked up her long brunette hair and then reached back into the door's side pocket. Out came a pair of plain daggers, the first one placed in a small ankle holster while the other found a home securely on her belt. Adjacent to it a larger one already dangled, its silver blade etched with three circular Solomon sigils and the Elder Futhark runes Thurisaz and Uruz along the handle. She took a long, deep breath of crisp air before she returned her attention to the surroundings. The night was brooding, different than usual.

It was then that a beast of a man lumbered out of the driver's seat, his heavy black boots sinking into the soggy soil. Dressed in a tight gray tee and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off, his muscular yet intricately inked arms stretched as he swaggered toward the front of the truck in a pair of absurdly snug jeans. Glancing at his baby, a gloved hand ran fondly down the brown and white hood; she still had plenty of go left in her, the old girl. Halting to take in the gloom around them, he rapped his husky fingers on a thigh-mounted custom MK23.

“Gage,” Adrienne said softly, not wanting to jar him out of any deep thought. “Joey's got some new gear for us in back. He…” She stopped, noticing his right hand tapping on the gun. “Seriously? You brought it with you to a clearing… again?”

Without a word, he turned and winked a green eye at her.

She rolled her hazel ones in return.

Lifting his hand off of the holster, he ran it slowly through his thick mop of black hair. There was just enough wetness for it to fall perfectly into place when he was done and he looked over toward her, head cocked.

“I always thought that cap had a fitting description of ya written across the front, darlin’,” he said in a deep accented voice, a finger pointed squarely at his forehead.

“Untrue,” she shot back without any hesitation. “You know I like my men older, more experienced. I don’t think you know much about that, right? Experience? Perhaps with some, you’d manage to hit something with that weapon of yours.”

He glanced over, seeing a little more sass in her step.

“I can hit plenty of things with my weapon, gorgeous. Especially if they’re moving at the speed ya do,” he said casually.

There was silence as she shook her head, the slightest hint of a smirk escaping from beneath the brim of her cap. He moseyed to the tailgate as Joey greeted them, holding three sets of what looked like head bands.

“So my man, what do ya have prepped for us tonight?” Gage asked. Leaning forward, he rested those large arms on the edge of the truck like a big kid eagerly awaiting toys.

“Mostly the same old cutty, stabby, keep-the-biters at bay fare,” Joey responded, casting a lingering stare at Gage while he rubbed on his dark beard, much thicker than his own. His arms looked truly massive pressed up against the tailgate. Shaking his head, he coughed before struggling to continue. “But I… uh... thought we could give these new guys a whirl.”

He raised the gadgets to show them off in more detail. They were circular headbands, each outfitted with a battery pack, small microphone and several rows of light emitting diodes. “I’ve been working on these for the past few weeks: voice operated UV lights. Perfect for any tight spots we may encounter in there.”

“How do they work?” asked Adrienne, shifting herself over to the back of the truck next to Gage for a better view.

Joey handed them each a unit then flipped a switch on his battery. There was a brief pop and then a hum which lingered for a few seconds before fading.

“Well, as you know,” he said, “we always seem to get caught in some kind of close combat situation when fighting these guys. Hell, when we’re fighting pretty much anybody. With these, we should be able to loosen their grip if we get pinned and things get particularly… necky.”

“Some of us like necking,” muttered Gage, throwing a glance over towards Adrienne, “and being pinned. Isn’t that what ya told me the other day, Ady?”

Her middle finger shot up.

“Yup, I recall mentioning just that.”

Joey laughed then squatted, looking down at the truck bed.

“If you two kids are done,” he said, pulling his hair into a loose bun and placing the device on his head. “Now let’s say you do get caught in a tight spot, all you’ll have to do is say these magic words and you should be set: ‘light 'em up!’”

The unit beeped and in an instant the floor was bathed in an otherworldly blue light, the air buzzing gently.

“Oh, this is good!” Adrienne said, reaching in to pat his shoulder. “Nice one J!”

Yet again Joey didn't fail to impress with his tech prowess. He was always the hard worker, even more so since the loss of his dad about this time last year. She started to ponder: had it already been a year since that fateful night? The blue began to fade away at the edges of her vision and it grew dark as sights and sounds, horrible in memory, threatened to rush in.

Then came the screams… Noooo!

She snapped back and her gaze now twinkled in the moonlight. She brushed away what could have been an overflowing tear, wondering if anyone had noticed, and smiled.

“Thanks!” he beamed. “Deactivate.” The lights on his unit flickered, then faded and the area became bleak once again.

“Good work, my man,” said Gage, his words unexpected. Adrienne and Joey exchanged puzzled looks, waiting for a smart ass chaser to the compliment. It never came. Instead, Gage thumped a fist on the tailgate. “Now let’s finish up and get to business.”

They had come to rural Houston that night to complete a clearing of a local vampire coven, which was a focus-grouped way of saying ‘exterminate the damn place and everyone inside of it’. The Order of Journeymen, despite years of gradual dissolution and dwindling numbers, still prided itself on committee-approved correctness, often with a panache for the superfluous and verbose.

This particular coven was small, estimated at no more than six vampires, yet they managed to raise a host of questions being at the epicenter of seventeen unexplained deaths and three disappearances across the counties in the area. The attacks were getting more brash and the collateral damage drifted ever further into the public eye. The latest kidnapping was no exception, with County Sheriff Mike Blake missing for over a week.

Lucky for the team, the heightened awareness of a missing elected official along with an ample amount of local press investigations made things easier for them. With a little detective work and lots of greased palms, they were led to this derelict plant.

Joey removed a series of small grenade-like items from the box, passing a few carefully to Adrienne before clipping the rest to his belt. A couple of knives were also pulled out and he tossed Gage some ammo clips, painted blue, along with a few vials of holy water. Although most of the traditional folklore about supernatural creatures was false, some of the elements were tried and true.

Joey hopped over the tailgate and pressed a small button underneath the rear bumper. For a brief moment, the truck seemed to shimmer from within before returning to normal. He reached back into the bed and pulled a baseball bat off a side mount, a sharp blade slotted into the barrel.

“Hope ol’ Bolo gets lucky tonight,” said Gage.

Joey looked at him, slapping the handle to his palm and returned a thumbs up.

Gage turned his attention to the magazines, ejecting a spent gray one from his gun and slapping in one of the new blues, tucking away the spares in his holster pockets. He checked his phone for the time and noticed the battery had drained quite a bit before switching it into vibrate mode. That’s when he noticed Adrienne pacing in his peripheral vision.

“What're you thinking?” he asked, approaching her from behind. A large, calming hand touched her on the back.

She had just adjusted her belt for what had to be the hundredth time, then looked down the same path he had earlier. She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m not sure,” she said gently. “Something seems off. Not necessarily the situation…” she paused at that notion, letting out a scant chuckle: killing vampires had become the norm, “but the why”.

“If it makes ya feel better, I agree,” he said, folding his arms while also looking down into the dark. “It's been what, a couple months at least since we've heard of any blood-sucking in the area? In fact, the same amount of time since we’ve heard of any supernatural shit going down. It’s been all quiet, then outta nowhere we have this beastly feast right in our backyard.” He shuffled, looking uncomfortable even for the mighty Gage Crosse. His knuckles cracked as he went on. “Hell, I thought we had driven them all out west toward Pine Springs…”

Joey stepped up beside the two of them and Gage took in the faces that were with him, looking to one, then the other. Who would’ve thought he would be with anyone, especially a team, for over a year? Certainly not the self-expressed loner himself.

It hadn’t been all rainbows, roses, and unicorns by any means (well, there was that one unicorn about eight months back). The nights were still as long and as harsh as they’d ever been, though he supposed notably less than the pre-company days. They had all been through much together and he was certainly glad to have them by his side. He gazed at Adrienne for a moment longer.

Especially her.

“But,” he snapped, “we can dwell on all that afterwards.” He strode to the back of the truck one last time. A serrated steel machete lined with combat sigils caught his attention. Yanking the blade out of the box, he closed it up tight and tossed Joey the key.

“Ya both ready?”

They nodded and looked to him for direction.

“Alright then! Let’s do this!” he said, taking point as they walked together into the dark.

CHAPTER TWO

THE VAMPIRE COVEN

AFTER A SHORT HIKE, the trio arrived outside the crusty building, more ominous up close than it was from afar, searching for the nearest way in. Much to Gage’s disappointment there wasn’t a gaping hole they could simply waltz through, but Adrienne soon spotted a door off to the right in a smoker’s area. It was coated in brown vines and rust.

Joey knelt in front of the entrance while the others covered him. He reached into a side pocket in his jeans and pulled out several lock picking tools, nimbly working to refine his breaking-and-entering skills.

“This is so much easier with a video game controller,” he said in frustration as the door didn’t yield right away.

A rustle came from the bushes; Gage honed in on the sound, but it turned out to be just the wind.

“Voila!” Joey said proudly after a few more moments. “Master lock picking skill achieved.”

Gage pushed the corroded door open slowly to minimize the sound of moaning metal and ushered them inside once there was a gap large enough. One after the other they entered the darkened room.

A few windows lined the crumbling walls, damp and sweating with black mold, while rows of benches and tables ran down the center. Refrigerators and microwaves on the far side rested against flaking safety posters and corporate notices that had long gone unread. In the corner stood two vending machines, one full of expired snacks and the other stuffed with cobwebs and spider spawn.

“This is definitely the right place,” whispered Adrienne as she pointed to the open fridge doors. Inside were trays of blood and assorted body parts, marinating at room temperature on the powerless shelves. If anyone had been hungry, they definitely weren’t now as a bitter stench of vinegar and death wafted into their noses and stung their throats.

Joey made his way toward a hallway to the left of the entrance, rounding the corner straight into a massive spider web that completely covered his face. Its maker dangled right at the corner of his eye and quickly he shoved it into the wall, smearing bug guts across the factory’s posted injury record. From the looks of that weathered document, this place hadn’t won any awards for a safe work environment. Ever.

That's when the distant patter of footsteps echoed from the silence ahead.

Without words the team split: Adrienne holding back in the break room while Joey slid into a supply closet midway down the hall. Gage, in typical fashion, stayed put with arms patiently folded across his chest.

A man, outwardly in his early forties, walked around the corner. He was tall but thin and dressed in plain, everyday clothes that were dirtied from a distinct lack of washing. Groaning, he tried to light a cigarette with a stubborn lighter that was only delivering sparks. He took a few more steps down the hall before noticing Gage blocking the way ahead.

His breathing labored as their eyes met. Those long arms fell to the side, protruding out as yellowed fingernails inched their way into sharp claws. His eyes narrowed as the cigarette fell from his mouth, now agape as if to scream. But no sound came. Instead, his teeth became razor-like and deadly.

The two stood facing each other like a standoff in the Wild West.

“Well, ya gonna make a move?” Gage whispered impatiently. “Time’s wasting and we ain’t all undead.”

The vampire charged down the hall, surging off the ground onto the walls. As he rushed by, the supply closet the door opened and Joey stepped out, Bolo in hand.

The vamp’s charge was met with a power jab to the gut. Winded, he stumbled before engaging with Gage in a furor of fists and talons.

Gage knocked the creature into the left wall, then to be fair sent him into the right, dislodging flecks of paint and debris that threatened to cause a sneeze. But there was no time to lose focus. The beatings continued, ending with a heavy boot to the chest that sent the biter flying back down the corridor on his back.

Sliding to a stop, his large brown eyes locked in on a passing streak of silver.

“Night night!” said Joey as he swung the bladed bat down like an axe. With a single strike, the vamp’s head was hewn.

Gage finally let loose a sneeze.

“Man, it’s fucking dusty in here!”

Adrienne came chuckling from the break room and walked past the two of them to the end of the hall. She turned to say something sarcastic at them, but cold, dead hands yanked her around the corner before she could get a word out.

Gage and Joey bolted down the passageway and rounded the corner. They met with the sight of …

… Adrienne standing over the hunched body of a female vampire, middle aged with curly blonde hair.  She was wiping blood off her silver dagger with her shirt, the vamp’s neck cut clean from side to side. The wound shimmered with a faint yellow light.

They both gave her a startled look.

“I guess you’re good then, no need for a dashing rescue from two handsome men?” asked Joey with half a smile on his lips.

“Good for now, studs,” she said, pointing at the center sigil on the blade before twirling it in her fingers and sliding it back onto her belt. “Trusty number fourteen.”

“No need for the extended warranty, Solomon guarantees product effectiveness will last three thousand years or more after one's death,” said Gage as he kicked the vamp’s limp legs. He gestured toward the next set of doors. “Badass ladies first.”

Pushing through, she led them into the main factory area. It was a jumbled mess of machinery from ages past, cracked and entangled with vines which were likely the only thing still holding everything together. Mills and lathes sat beside things so degraded and unrecognizable that their original purpose was long lost to history.

The ceiling above stood broken, pillars of cascading moonlight peppering the floor while dust motes danced in the coolness. Despite an abundance of flakes, the air in here was fresher and less rimmed with rot.

To the left stood another set of double doors, a faded sign split in two overhead saying ‘Reception’. Straight on were the supervisory offices and conference rooms and to the right was the factory proper, complete with boilers, furnaces, and danger.

“Well, this definitely checks the mark for a warm and welcoming post-apocalyptic vibe,” said Joey. “Remind me to get a postcard before we leave.”

“We should look in the offices first,” said Adrienne, pointing to the shadowed hallway ahead of them. “See if any are holed up inside before hitting the main area.”

Gage nodded.

After few steps, their plans changed as a brawny female vampire strode in from the black and stood in the center of the entryway. Her fangs were bared, ready for attack. She was a big beast of a woman, probably extremely slow and ungainly and -

She came at them with a quickness they had never seen before. In an instant she was upon them. Adrienne and Joey barely had time to dart out of the way as she rushed by, a near invisible streak.

“What the hell!” exclaimed Adrienne, hitting the unwelcoming dirt. “This one’s been drinking some top shelf red. Everyone watch out!”

She rushed by again and Gage swung his machete, slicing through nothing but air. He scowled as a claw grazed his back and tore into his jacket. A follow up punch sent him to one knee, then another scrape came across. Grimacing from the sharp heat now radiating across his back, his blade clanged on the ground.

Adrienne looked up and saw another vampire running toward them from the factory floor, shifting deftly around and over the equipment. His features were as sharp as the teeth he bore.

She stepped in front of Joey as the vamp leapt high and grabbed hold of her shirt, sending them both careening into a stack of wooden pallets. Several splintered under their weight and the rest scattered across the floor as the duo clamored for the upper hand. The monster made his way on top first, straddling her. As she was immobilized, he wasted no time moving in for the kill.

Joey drew one of his knives and ran toward them, thrusting it deep into the vamp’s back.

He recoiled in agony, knocking Joey away.

The attacker loosened his grip on Adrienne’s arms and she used the opportunity to strike. Her fist connected with his jaw, sending several teeth flying. Shuffling to her feet, she flipped the blood sucker onto his injured back and in the same swift motion released a dagger from her belt. It pierced his undead skin, pinning his hand to the wooden boards.

Meanwhile Gage unleashed another flurry, whipping the air to no avail. A flash surged by, bumping his shoulder hard.

Frustrated, he tried again.

“Will… ya…”

And again

“Stay… still…”

and -

Thunk!

The edge bit into something solid and a thin cloud of red floated by.

“Gotcha at last, Helga,” said Gage through his gritted teeth, twisting the blade in place.

She squirmed as it continued to hack and saw its way through the rest of her.

Gage flicked the machete at the end of his volley, sending her head soaring from her body like some sick, deflated balloon.

The other dagger came off Adrienne's ankle like a bolt, piercing her attacker’s remaining hand. The vamp was now secured to the pallet, contorting his back and legs in all manner of unnatural shapes, underscored with even more abnormal sounds. She took out her final blade and thrust it deep into his heart. A golden glow pulsed from the wound and a loud shrill escaped before the sounds of gurgling took over.

The three of them took a moment to catch their breath, but if this mission was telling them anything, such time was fleeting. How true that was.

In the ever-dark ahead of them a new shape emerged: smaller, younger, and more agile. He stepped forward, extending claws so far out they looked like kitchen knives attached to his fingertips. With a single unwavering swipe, he cut through nearby pipes as if they were putty.

“The fuck kind of freak show is this?” asked Gage.

These were not normal biters; so far from them.

“You have got to be joking!” exclaimed Joey, fishing one of the grenades off his belt. It hummed through the air, landing close to the monster’s feet before exploding in a fountain of dazzling purple.

The vamp screeched as his skin peeled from the radiation and the corrosive light blinded him.

Joey took the chance and grabbed Bolo off the floor, dashing forward to cleave.

The vamp stopped and sniffed the air. He knew something was headed his way fast. Sure enough, as Joey swung he seized the bat by its handle, flinging both it and its owner down the length of the hall.

Joey tumbled into a dingy restroom, crashing between the single sink and a lidless, sludge filled toilet. It smelled atrocious. The area was very small, with little space to swing and absolutely no places to hide. Even if he wanted to fight he was weaponless, the arsenal he was carrying scattered down the passageway.

Hunching like a big cat, the vamp ran at him, scraping the floor with those massive talons and leaving deep lines in the concrete.

“Light…” said Joey.

The vampire jumped, landing atop his next meal, sending the air straight out of Joey’s lungs. He couldn’t get a deep enough breath to say anything more.

The vamp reared those sickles back to strike but suddenly began to convulse, digging feverishly at his own chest. Unable to retract the claws in time, it began cutting into its skin while something undulated beneath the surface as if alive. From the writhing bulge, a shower of maroon gave birth to the tip of a machete blade.

Gage withdrew the sharp end and with a powerful lunge, jabbing it into the vampire’s neck. Grabbing hold of the creature’s head, he started to pull while pressing down on the machete for leverage. The veins in the vamp’s temples threatened to explode from the pressure. Bones began to shatter like tinder and before long the beast’s body crumpled to the ground. His head followed a few moments later with a soft thud.

Joey breathed hard as he filled his lungs, looking up to Gage towering above him – godlike with fists clenched in the faint light that spilled in from the doorway. It highlighted every striated detail as he looked down and extended a bloody hand to Joey, pulling him up onto wobbling feet.

“Ya okay, big man?” asked Gage, pulling him closer for stability.

Joey placed a hand on Gage’s large chest, feeling a little heat swell in his cheeks. A bit more ‘added balance’ was apparently needed so he moved in a touch closer. “Definitely am now.”

Gage raised the corner of his mouth, turning to see Adrienne approaching. His smile widened as she arrived.

“Are you both alright?” she asked through her huffs.

They nodded, Gage taking a moment longer.

“Good to hear,’ she said, noting all of their cuts and bruises. She rubbed her shoulder to calm the fiery pain before adjusting her gloves. “Glad you guys look as good as I feel. I don't know what the hell these things are on, but thank God that should be most of them if our count was right.”

“Yeah, these fuckers are much more powerful than ones we’ve dealt with before.” Gage looked around cautiously. “There should be one more in here somewhere and they'll likely have answers. We gotta find ‘em.”

“Well,” said Joey. “I can assure you of one thing.” He pointed behind as he reluctantly stepped back away from Gage. “This bathroom right here, is clear.”

Adrienne handed him his fallen gear. “Let’s go.”

They proceeded in step down the deserted hallway, checking out each decayed office. They were empty save the undusted furnishings and paperwork, caked with years’ old layers of filth and squalor.

Then a lone cry pierced the silence.

“What was that?” asked Joey.

“It sounded like a child,” answered Adrienne. “It’s coming from the conference area.” She extended her dagger to indicate the way.

“You know, wouldn't it be nice to fight something in the warm, midday sun one of these days?” Joey grumbled as they set off into the gloom.

“Keep on dreamin’,” said Gage. “In fact, I'm laying out tomorrow and getting a tan.” He extended his arms ahead, inspecting each one in turn. “Could almost pass myself off as a ghost.”

“Hate to disappoint you but it's going to rain, Casper,” Adrienne whispered.

Gage replied with something indecipherable under his breath just as the cries grew louder. They continued the further down they went, peaking outside a set of three doors. The main conference room was ahead, two smaller ones at either side. All were shut and locked from the outside, but thin, rectangular panes allowed a look inside.

They each took one and looked in.

Joey slowly glanced through the murky glass. It was a standard conference room on the other side with a long mahogany table and cracked leather chairs around the outside. Bland and commonly corporate, nothing else was of interest.

In Adrienne’s, the furniture had been removed and body parts were stacked in the middle of the room, a veritable vampiric buffet. She gagged a bit at the sight of the carnage; this part never got any easier. As she looked on, she was extremely thankful that she couldn’t smell it.

Gage looked in his room. Most of the windows were blocked by several large conference tables that had been upended and hurled against the far wall. The accompanying chairs were haphazardly strewn about, yet a definite circular space was left clear in the middle. There, dead center, knelt a little girl dressed in pink. She was turned away from them, long blonde hair curled halfway down the back of the frayed dress.

The cries continued.

Joey got to work picking the lock and the door soon creaked open. The trio entered slowly and approached the girl with weapons in hand. She hadn’t budged despite the obvious sounds they were making.

The cries were now much louder now, too.

“I don’t like this at all,” said Joey. “Creepy supernatural children are the worst.” He and Adrienne inched around to the front, Gage hanging back with his gun drawn and pointed squarely at the back of her head.

“Careful Ady,” said Gage as she stepped forward.

The girl didn't move, despite tears streaming through the dirty fingers covering her tiny face.

“What’s your name?” asked Adrienne, scanning for bite wounds. She couldn't see anything and there was no reply, so she asked again.

The sobbing faded and the girl’s arms sank to her sides. “Why do you want to know?” she asked through dark and narrow lips. Her eyes were closed, still wet from the tears falling moments earlier and her skin had a porcelain glow.

“Because we want to -”

“Help?” she sneered, turning to the side. “Helping me… it’s far too late for that.”

As her hair fell away, Adrienne noticed two distinct puncture marks on her neck. “So, you've already fed?” she asked.

There was no reply.

Gage was already growing tired of this exchange, shifting from one leg to the other and back again. To keep from having an aneurism, he sent his eyes to drift around the room: what a dump this place truly was. However, something caught his eye. In the corner he spotted a long length of rope amongst some fallen tiles and signaled to Joey.

Adrienne was unfazed and continued her line of questioning. “What is your name? Have you already fed?”

“Nancy,” she snapped. “But I don't see why that's important. My last name is Hardy too, in case you wanted to ask me that particularly stupid question.”  She paused and took in a deep breath. “Mortals. Oh and yes, I have fed.”

“On what?”

There was a long stretch of silence before she leaned toward Adrienne.

“Those missing persons,” she whispered, flinging her bloodshot eyes wide open. “All of them.” She lunged forward, grabbing Adrienne by the throat. Her timid mouth smirked as it split into two fleshy petals, each lined with rows of fangs. Adrienne was transfixed in horror.

Finally, Gage thought, nodding to Joey. Like a whip, he threw a lash of holy water across her back, tossing the empty vial aside. She seized up as he reached around to empty more down her throat. She coughed as it sizzled its way into her stomach.

Joey rushed in to bind her hands, avoiding her deadly bite. Before long the guys had secured her from above. While she stood with arms overhead, choking smoke continued to belch amidst her attempts to scream, which changed from childlike to monstrous with unsettling ease. However, as Gage approached all fell silent when he pressed the barrel of his gun to her forehead.

“Ya done flapping those jaws?” he asked, not really looking for a reply. “You're on my time now princess, so let's chat.” He holstered the pistol, grabbing a nearby chair. Flipping it upright, he fell into the old leather and stared at the apparent eight-year-old ahead of him.

“So lil’ miss Nancy,” he said. “You’ve done a pretty good job here with this coven of yours. Those seventeen deaths make a lot more sense now, your squad of roided up vamps tearing up the streets.”

She shifted her arms, straining against the ropes before staring into him, sniffing the air. “You're so… intense,” she said, sniffing the air as if to pick up on a whiff of his manliness. “Here I am, at a disadvantage. A studly, tattooed man stands in front of me and knows my name, but sadly hasn’t even told me his before tying me up for a little bit of bloody fun. How rude.”

He cringed hearing those words come out of her, although she was probably far older than she looked.

“Gage,” he said, scowling.

“Interesting,” she noted, eyeing him from head to toe. “You wouldn't happen to be THE Gage Crosse now, would you?”

“The one and only.”

She giggled, managing to make it sound malicious.

“Well, Gage, your reputation precedes you. In all my years I’ve never sensed someone as… wild as you. It certainly doesn’t strike me as a quality the Journeymen would seek out for their ranks, at least the order of old. But then again, that may explain why they are now in such rapid decline.”

“This ain't about me sister,” he said, pointing to her bound hands, “or the Journeymen.”

“Oh but it is,” she countered, realizing they had no idea what was going on. She giggled again. “You and your fellows are so in the dark about what is happening right now in the world.”

“That's why I have ya here. Enlighten me.”

“Now, where would the fun be if I did that?”

“Fun?” he asked. “Well, let's see. It seems this dumb J-man has you by the balls.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you actually had any. You’re the one all tied up, princess.”

“For now,” she replied, her mouth stretching into a wide smile.

Gage rose from his seat, pulling another vial from his pocket. He un-stoppered it and dripped some holy water on her wrist, sending a burning trail along her forearm all the way down to her elbow. She winced when he did it again on the other arm.

“See? Now there's the fun! So, do ya have anything to tell us?” he asked, slumping back in the seat.

“Color me disappointed, Gage. I was expecting better. Where's that champion of champions who slayed over a hundred vampires during the raid to rescue that gutter trash?” she said spitefully, nodding toward Joey and Adrienne. “Oh, I've heard the stories. Now, here you stand, alongside this bitch vampire-slayer and her pet nerd. All three of you apparently impotent in extracting information from a mere child.” Her childish giggle frolicked in the silence. “It’ll be fun sucking the marrow from your pathetic bones.”

Gage had reached his limit. He kicked away his chair and cocked his gun, shoving it right in her face.

“Darlin’, I’d like to see you try.”

There at last was a hint of the legendary Mr. Crosse. She leaned in closely, seeing the fire in his eyes and his finger calmly resting by the trigger.

“Ok. I'll bite,” she whispered. “The demons are on the move, the Noctis planning something huge. All monsters are mobilizing in response.”

Gage grew a shade paler when he heard mention of the Noctis; those bastards. That ever growing band of demons had taken away his life, his everything, three years ago. This life on the road for revenge was all that he knew now because of them.

“Mobilizing?” he asked, not sure that he wanted to hear the answer. “For what?”

She sat still for a moment before continuing, “To fight against them… or to join them. A war is coming unlike any we have seen before.”

“And the vamps?” Gage asked, looking down the bridge of his nose at her smug face. “What are you blood suckers planning on doing?”

“Well, us vampires aren't into being the play things of demons. The werewolves though, I hear they love to wear collars.”

Gage looked to his teammates, who had already cast their tense eyes his way. “We need to talk,” he said, walking over to a corner for privacy. Adrienne and Joey were two steps behind.

“You heard what Princess Plaque said,” he whispered. “We apparently got some serious issues coming over the horizon. If the Noctis are actually moving, then something big is about to go down.”

“That’s assuming she is telling us the truth,” noted Adrienne. “What reason do we have to trust anything she says?”

“Good point. I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her… which could be pretty far so never mind that,” he said. “But the fact is, she has these mega-vamps under her control and it makes me think there is definitely more here than just a regular clearing. We need to -”

A loud snap cut through the silence.

They spun to see a segment of rope careen through the air and a pink streak bolting for the exit. Gage drew his gun and fired several shots. One after another the glowing rounds hit with indigo shockwaves, but he had missed. The bitch was fast.

"Dammit!" he hissed, jerking his head as Adrienne and Joey gave pursuit.

The two reentered the main facility on the hunt. Nancy was so small, easily obscured by the equipment and impossible to spot on ground level. Adrienne took to a nearby ladder and climbed, careful not to lose footing on the greasy metal. She scanned the area keenly, spotting their target as she bolted between two grinders.

“Over there!” she shouted, pointing toward the front of the building.

Joey raced in that direction.

Adrienne started to dismount and noticed Nancy wasn’t going to exit through any of the main doors. Instead, she hung left and took a concealed set of stairs, presumably down to a lower level.

Both pursuers now sprinted toward their target but stopped cold when they heard her scream. Such a horrific scream, brimming with pain. As quickly as it began it was silenced, a distinct growl rose in its place, low and terrible.

They both knew what was coming.

Sweat formed across Adrienne’s forehead, stinging her eyes as she drew the silver dagger.

“No, it can’t be,” she beseeched.

Joey shuddered. He hadn’t heard this sound since that horrific day. Misty eyes appraised the room, floating down to the ground beneath them. A tear rolled off his cheek to the floor. He hurled his eyes toward Adrienne, whose gaze was already waiting.

That's when the seventh one showed up, breaching beneath them in a blast of concrete and splintered boards.

Joey fell to the chamber below and hit the bottom with an ankle first, then his head. Bolo fell from his grip, rolling a few feet away. All became blackness.

Adrienne was flung like a rag doll over forty feet into nearby machinery. She tumbled and struck metal but fate had kept her conscious. The runed dagger waited nearby. Wincing, her labored breaths churned dust into the air as she crept its way.

That’s when the creature came into view. A monstrosity much taller than a human stood before her. Pale like milk, skin stretched sickeningly thin over its skeletal body and a pair of membranous wings were folded on its back, fingers moving like spiders at the joints. Golden eyes with dark circles stared pitiless into her from the shadows while drool poured from its fangs. This was a primal vampire. Rare, deadly, and uncontrollable.

Why in hell would the coven have a primal?

She crawled closer to the dagger; it was a necessity if she wanted any hope of survival. The ones she still had would have no effect against this powerful of a thing.

It began to inch toward her. Tattered were its beige clothes and on its left side, a tag caught a gleam off a shaft of moonlight. A gold star was upon it, inscribed with ‘County Sheriff’ and the name Mike Blake off to the side. He wasn’t going to be arresting anyone soon.

She stretched for the blade. It was still too far away. She slithered further across the floor and he took another step. Then another. Before long, he was running full speed toward her, claws scraping against rusty mills. Mangled metal convulsed in his wake.

The dagger still lay out of reach.

Fucking hell!

Closing her eyes, she waited and withheld a scream and he leaped into the air, claws ready to tear her apart.

A whirl of silver propelled across the room, striking Mike. He collapsed into a boiler and both fell to the floor with a thunderous noise. Pulling himself up, a large machete stuck out from his side. Shrieks let loose when he yanked out the smoking blade, tossing it aside. Blood so dark it could be mistaken for oil spewed onto the floor. His eyes narrowed when he saw the attacker, ire rising with each flap of spread wings as he barreled towards Gage.

He braced himself for impact and they crashed through the door frame back into the conference room.

Mike grabbed Gage’s left shoulder and started to sink his talons into the ink, but something went wrong. The pentacle tattoo smoked and his ashen skin bubbled as if acid were on it and a rancid stench rose to fill the air.

Gage continued to pound Mike’s face and body.

Howling, Mike wrenched his injured arm back then powered Gage into the wall, free arm upon his chest and wings tightly clamped on his wrists. Bones cracked as his jaw unhinged, rows upon rows of fangs hung from the grotesquely wide maw. As he roared, shreds of flesh and dress flung themselves over Gage’s body.

A clawed hand rocketed toward his face. Gage knocked back hard, jostling Mike enough for a miss except for a single hook that carved deep into the flesh above his left eye. The sting was insufferable. His vision became a crimson blur.

Mike lashed out, throttling Gage’s neck. The beast slammed him several more times against the wall, causing it to crack and rubble to fall from above. His grip tightened and Gage grimaced from the pain.

Darkness encroached. Blood drenched teeth filled what little view remained. It was inevitable, Gage was going to die.

But not today.

“Light ‘em up!” her angelic voice cut through the darkness.

The room became bright like a blue fire that burned from all sides. Mike’s putrid flesh seared and his grip waned. No longer was Gage contained, Mike scratching at his own face in misery.

Gage reached down and drew the gun. In one swift motion he raised the barrel and pressed it hard against sizzling forehead.

“Ya marked my face,” Gage said, placing a finger on the trigger.  “Lemme return the favor.” He pulled it back and in a cobalt flash Mike was ended, collapsing to the ground in a headless mass. A moment later black blood rained down on the convulsing heap.

Adrienne stood behind, tending her side while Joey was propped against what remained of the door frame…or maybe it was the wall, it was hard to discern.

Gage let out a long sigh.

“Good timing,” he said.

“That was an awful line, Gage. Just awful,” she replied. “Deactivate.”

All their units turned off in unison.

They bent over and each grabbed Joey by an arm and staggered from the remains of the room. As they exited, her hand touched Gage’s arm and they both felt themselves stir. Gage glanced in her direction. Funny, he never really noticed over the last year how beautiful and graceful her features were.

Until now, like some switch had been flipped. Another monster had awakened and this one made it very difficult to walk.

“Something wrong Gage?” asked Adrienne, catching him limping along.

“No, nothing,” he deflected, voice slightly shaking. He thumped his thigh. “Just the ol’ leg. Must’ve hit it hard in there.”

The trio soon emerged from the darkness they had entered, looking worse for wear but alive. They ascended the hill and tossed their gear into the back seat of the truck, gently helping Joey inside.

Adrienne climbed back into shotgun and removed her cap, her head sinking back into the seat. Finally, a breather.

Gage trudged over and got in the driver’s side. He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them again, he glanced to his phone and oddly the battery was nearly drained. Without a second thought, he plugged it in then grabbed hold of the rear view mirror to study the gash above his eye. It was deep, likely to leave a scar.

“Dammit,” he said, lightly touching around it with his finger. “Fucking vamps.”

The keys jangled as he cranked the ignition, reversing the truck back along the driveway and onto the main road.  This particular job was completed, though it had raised further questions about what the vamps were doing across the state. Not to mention the Noctis, who’d obviously started enough of a scare to mobilize sharpened teeth and God knows what else across the nation. But all these great questions could be addressed a little later that morning.

Now was time for the morphine of music, which blared through the truck speakers and filled the cab. Joey sat alone in the rear seats, turning bat in hand. Adrienne nursed the back of her head while staring out into the passing fields. The monochromatic blur was hypnotizing. Gage looked to her, then back at Joey. He raised the corner of his mouth, catching one more glimpse of his newly earned scar before pressing down hard on the gas. The engine roared in reply, rocketing them down the empty road as the wind rushed in through the open windows.

The biting air had lost its teeth and the simplicity of motion was exhilarating.

CHAPTER THREE

REST STOP

THE LONE TRUCK crept its way down empty, potholed streets and the sounds of classic rock rode the otherwise silent breeze. Ahead, the cold light of Montgomery’s Gas and Convenience spilled out through the sprinkling rain into the long night, a beacon of color amidst a perpetual sea of gray.

Joey propped himself up in between the front seats and reached out to the radio, turning the volume all the way down. “Hey, they’re open! We need to stop.”

Gage took a look at the fuel level; there was still plenty of go left and he really wanted to get back to base. Exhaustion was setting in and the sweet call of his downy pillow made it that much more difficult to keep his eyes open. “The gas is good man, ain’t no need.” He reached back for the radio.

“But I’m hungry and need to pee,” Joey persisted, bouncing slightly as he slunk back into his seat.

Gage looked back at him.

“Seriously, what are ya, five? Ya couldn’t have taken lil’ J for a walk while we were in the woods?” He grumbled something more under his breath and begrudgingly flicked on the turn signal. Joey was glad he couldn't make out what was said.

The cab jostled as Gage hurriedly drove over the chasm masquerading as a drainage dip. It could have easily knocked out the wheel alignment of any other vehicle, but the GMC was already so far gone that the jolt might have even fixed it. Thankfully the early hours also ensured there were plenty of parking spaces to choose from, so naturally Gage settled in diagonally across several at the front of the store.

“You okay to walk?” asked Adrienne, looking to the back seat. Joey had taken quite a fall earlier.

He nodded as he started to change shirts.

“Oh yes. One can always find strength when on a quest for donuts.”

She shook her head.

“But these are boxed convenience store donuts, J. You know, basically cardboard. They’re nothing like the ones from Humphries.” It was hard not to let her mind drift on a cloud of sugary splendor. It had been some time since they last ate.

Joey looked as if she had slapped him clean across the face. “Um… So?” He shifted in the seat to take a more studious posture. “Granted all donuts are not created equal, and you have the cake versus yeast debate, and I’m not saying that I wouldn't love the warm, fresh taste of Gage right now.”

His eyes shot open. What the fuck Joey!

Adrienne blinked and mulled over what she thought she just heard. Her head cocked to one side, to the point it looked broken, and she gave Joey her ‘Oh my God you didn't’ face.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Greengage plums,” interrupted Gage nonchalantly. “It's one of their best flavors. What's it those fancy reviews say? ‘So complex in taste and texture’. Isn't that right Joey?”

By now Joey was redder than the blood stained shirt he was still entangled in.

“Yeah… Yeah it is,” he stuttered, finally getting the soiled shirt off and a clean one on. “I’ll be back in a few. Either of you need anything?” he asked, desperately trying to shift the focus off of himself.

“Nah, I'm good man,” Gage replied.

Adrienne was holding back a massive laugh, taking great pleasure in watching Joey squirm awkwardly.

“Teriyaki beef jerky would be great. Oh, and snag me some gum please. I doubt they have greengage plum flavor, but if so, make that priority number one.”

Joey narrowed his eyes, but avoided looking directly at her while darting out of the back seat. He couldn't get into the store fast enough, nearly colliding with the slow-opening automatic doors. If they didn’t know better, it was almost like he hadn't been injured at all.

Both shook their heads as their bottled up laughter finally let loose.

“You know there hasn’t been a plum flavor on the Humphries menu in nearly six months,” stated Adrienne, confirming the count on her fingertips.

“Oh trust me, I know,” said Gage with a chuckle. He turned his attention to his cell phone, the corner of his lips turning down. “That's weird.”

“What is it?”

He showed her the screen, pointing to the upper right corner. It had charged a whopping five percent since they left the coven. “Huh, I guess something is wrong with it. Should've done more than that in a half hour, right?”

“Here, let’s see,” she said, taking his hand and gingerly sliding out the phone. She risked a lingering touch. His skin contradicted his gruff exterior and was invitingly soft, save the fresh scuffs across his knuckles.

He peeked over her way and she pretended to be none the wiser, pulling on the charger. Smiling at him, she inserted it into her phone and all seemed to be well. It chirped and the charge icon popped in as usual.

“We’ll see how it goes with mine. You've always had bad luck with things…” She paused, realizing what she said wasn't necessarily in the best taste, given his history. “...especially with tech,” she added.

“You ain't kidding,” he said as relief fell across her face.

“Sorry for saying that,” she said after a brief pause.

“What, about the bad luck? No worries, gorgeous. We’ve all had our fair share of it. It’s a nasty world out there.” He looked out his window at the stars beyond the store canopy. “Full of teeth, claws, tentacles, and hell, a thousand other hurtful ways of taking anything ya value away.” He looked her way again, now fighting his own thoughts. He definitely cared about this little team of his. They’d become close, like family, over the last year. They kicked ass together and he would stack them up against any of the finest Journeymen still out there. Yet something was dangerously itching for him to want more, to be more, with her. “Surprised it hasn’t gotten worse than it already has. Guess that’s a testament to the job we manage to do.”

“Yup,” she said, her voice a little unsure. “Even so, it’s hard to care about things in this line of work, isn't it?”

Her words betrayed her mind. It was incredibly easy to care for things, like the rugged man beside her. She had been developing more robust feelings, those waters rising during the lull in supernatural activity in recent months. The team was able to get to know each other more personally, day in and day out without the imminent threat of being eaten or worse, hanging overhead. Those emotional floodgates were now exceedingly close to breaching. She looked from his beard down across his right arm, well-lit under the fluorescent lights. It was covered from shoulder to wrist in roses, intricately detailed in black and white shading.

“I've never asked you what your ink actually meant, have I?” she asked.

“No, but you've certainly burned a hole in me staring so many times.”

She bumped his arm.

“Whatever, you ass. Like you've never stared at me before.”

“Only that hat ya wear all the time, cougar queen.”

Her eyes had to be the strongest part of her body, always getting a workout around him. From the rolling of course, not the gawking. At least that is what she had convinced herself of. “So, going back to this tattoo of yours.”

“The roses,” he said softly. “They were Momma’s favorite flowers. Back during the days that I traveled alone, I would close my eyes thinking on the past and I swear I could smell their sweet scent – as if I were standing right there on the front porch of the house we lived in. Silly as it sounds, those nights felt a little less cold because of that. I got this tattoo after a while, as a reminder that Mom is always with me and that I would never have to close my eyes again.”

Something was certainly awakening between the two of them. Gage had never seemed vulnerable before, yet here he sat opening up. Adrienne didn’t know if that was for the better or worse. Regardless, she continued.

“That’s amazing, Gage. My mom nearly killed me when she found out I had a tattoo, even after explaining it had something to do with her.”

Gage quickly perked up. She had ink? How was this so? If he hadn't noticed before, that meant it was hidden, very well hidden.

“I had no idea ya had tattoos, Ady,” he said, not so casually searching her visible skin.

She raised a finger saying, “Tattoo. Just one.”

“You'll have to show me sometime ya rebel, since I showed ya mine,” he said, leaving his mouth open with a hint of those perpetually white teeth. “Oh and don’t get Momma wrong. The sentiment is great but if she saw me today, all inked up like a thug, I probably wouldn’t be her favorite son anymore.”

“You have a brother?”

“Nope, only child. I'm her favorite and only,” he stated matter-of-factly.

A little laugh escaped her smile.

“I’m sure she would still care about you, Gage,” Adrienne said faintly as she found a prominent vein which rose above the detailed ink work. With a finger, she traced the ridge across the bloom on his imposing shoulder.

That felt unexpectedly good. He labored to hold his eyes open, but his feelings were amplified with them closed. The artificial glow slipped away, wrapping him in a momentary blanket of nothing but her touch.

The vein road-mapped into his bicep, which she rode without hesitation, detouring along the way to other floral sights across his arm. This was simply incredible, a nurse’s wet dream that was quickly becoming her own. She was soon back on the main highway, riding down into the dense cluster of petals on his forearm.

They laughed again when she reached his wrist, lifting her finger before both fell into a pit of silent stares. Thoughts began to mount as their heartbeats started to climb.

Should I try to kiss him? No. That wouldn’t be right. But if I did, maybe it would feel right…

Why have I never noticed how gorgeous she is? That hair, my God… Those lips… Fuck my life.

Adrienne, would this really work? He’s like a brother to you. But just look at him.

Gage, do you really want to go through with this? You know the life that we live. Love leads to one thing. Pain.

“What is taking him so long?” asked Gage, breaking the hushed exchange that threatened to spill over into action. There was always something he could be impatient about.

She pointed ahead into the store. “That right there. I don't think he'll ever grow up.”

They both watched Joey make beelines up and down the aisles from one delicious junk food delicacy to the next. During his mad dash, he rounded a corner too quickly and knocked over an end cap display, sending assorted flavors of chips flying across the floor.

That sent the portly shop keep trundling over, flamboyantly waving his arms in a fit while Joey haphazardly threw a few items back on the display.

Gage chuckled. “That's what makes him special.”

Joey filled up his bags then reached into his pocket, tossing some cash on the counter. “Keep the change!” he shouted, bounding out of the store and back into the vehicle.

“Good God!” said Adrienne. “Got yourself a bit of a boost?”

“What?” asked Joey, tossing her a bag of beef jerky. He had already demolished a pack of chips, starting in on some cookies. An empty energy drink can made its way into in the plastic bag tied around his wrist. Thankfully for him, a tinny clang indicated there were more full ones inside.

“I swear that guy’s wife is a beard,” said Joey, a cookie hanging from his mouth as he rifled through the bag for something to wash it down with.

Adrienne nearly choked, since she agreed.

“Ya fuckers set?” Gage cut in; bed was calling his name. “Let's roll, and gimme a damn cookie for waiting on your ass.”

Adrienne nabbed a chocolate chip one for him and took a fleeting look down at her cell phone as they set off. The indicator showed that it had already increased fifteen percent. Something was certainly wrong with Gage’s phone, which had since died.

CHAPTER FOUR

A MEETING AT MONTGOMERY’S

THE PORTLY EUGENE MONTGOMERY was counting the money left on the store counter, snorting under his breath when the front doors dinged.

Better not be that little prick again, he thought, having only just cleaned up about half of the mess left by the whirlwind that was Joey Mosley. Sexy as he is, that boy is a menace.

That’s when a pungent odor stabbed at his piggish nostrils.

“First you trash my store, boy, and now you try to smoke in here? Take those damn matches and your cigarettes outside,” he snapped, looking up with a snarl.

It wasn't Joey.

There, instead of the young man, two uniformed police officers stood in front of him, imposing like statues.

“Oh! My apologies officers,” he said with a tinge of surprise and a frown. The coins in his hand fell through his stubby fingers, dancing noisily on the glass. “I didn’t mean… Crap… I thought you were someone else.”

They said nothing as the shorter officer removed his cap, placing it over the clattery change. His buzzed hair, stocky build and gruff expression weren't putting Eugene at ease one bit. If the guy hadn't been wearing a police uniform, he could just as easily have been there to rob the store.

Eugene peered over to the other man. He stood at least six inches taller and was far ganglier. His expressionless face and cold focus added to the unease that pervaded the room.

“So, can I help you two fine gentle…” his voice trailed off as the doors chimed yet again. Eugene shuffled over and craned his neck to see who was coming in. Sweat had begun beading on his brow and he took a large, salty gulp when he saw who had stepped inside.

A middle aged man with sharp features had waltzed in, his scuffed boots crunching over the array of candy bars and chip bags still strewn on the floor. Dressed in torn skinny jeans, his white wife beater had yellowed from months of accumulated stains. On one wrist he wore a luxury watch, dulled by fictitious gold and on the other a pair of handcuffs dangled loose and free. As he sauntered closer, his steely eyes gazed down a beak-like nose, never leaving the rotund man behind the counter.

Eugene wrenched his eyes away, noticing a large red smear on the man’s chest as he settled in between the two policemen. A smell like natural gas followed.

“Good… evening…” Eugene stammered. “Can I help any of you?”

The prisoner spoke. “Are you the purveyor of this fine establishment?” he asked in a raspy voice. As he gestured with his arms, the handcuffs reflected the overhead lamps, sending their light dancing uncomfortably across Eugene’s face.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then indeed it is your lucky day,” he said coldly. The prisoner continued, pointing a finger toward Eugene. Something told the shop keep that this wasn’t the kind of luck one wished for. “I have a couple of questions that need answering and you… well, you are the man for the job.”

He waved his pointing hand and the policemen fell back a few steps.

Shorty broke away and walked toward the door. After a quick look around, he found the switch for the “OPEN” sign and flipped it. The letters faded as he returned to the other officer’s side.

Eugene felt a rumble in the pit of his stomach and his heart began to pound in his chest. He couldn't focus on any one thing, desperately needing some comfort in this extremely uncomfortable situation. Maybe if he could move his hands beneath the counter and press the silent alarm or maybe if he could snag his shotgun to pepper these assholes, he would feel better and safer. All was for naught when the effort was stopped before it even began.

“Ah ah ah,” said the prisoner as both cops reached for their weapons. “I know what you're thinking. We’ve no time for company just yet. You and I still have to chat.”

The sweat stung as Eugene tried to watch the detainee through squinted eyes, still catching brief flashes of light from off the cuffs.

The man leaned forward. “So my good man, have you had any visitors tonight?” Good lord his breath was terrible, as if strips of meat were trapped between his teeth since the days his shirt was pure white.

“No,” said Eugene amidst a cough that brought up a little bit of sick with it.

The prisoner’s look screamed liar.

“No… one of any importance,” Eugene corrected, coughing once more.

“Hmmm,” pondered the convict. “Is that so? I’ll be the judge of that.”

Just my luck, Eugene thought. What kind of gangland crap has that son of a bitch brought on me?

“So this ‘nobody important.’ Who was he?” The man picked up a quarter and started to tap the glass with it.

“Some kid” he told him, “maybe in his early twenties. I didn’t catch a name.”

“A shame,” he replied, pausing to look at the coin in detail. He placed it back on the countertop before picking up another, shiner one. “Paid by cash did he? Well, it's a good thing he wasn’t all that important.”

Eugene fell silent, as if he stopped breathing.

“So, was he with anyone else?” the man pressed, continuing to knock the countertop with his fresh coin.

“Nobody in the store,” Eugene replied. The tapping grew faster and he wiped his forehead with a sleeve; was the heating unit on? The air was notably hotter and patchy sweat stains had formed under his arms and across his lower back.

“There was someone out in the vehicle, well two actually: a man and a woman. I couldn’t see either of them very well.” The non-stop tapping was getting to him, now beating against the inside of his skull. “Stop it!” he exclaimed before dialing his voice way down, “please?”

The prisoner flicked the change toward Eugene, striking him on the chin. “So there were three total,” he said, looking over his shoulder. With a head jerk the cops promptly stepped up to each side. “The vehicle they were in, was it a truck?”

“Yes,” he answered curtly. Maybe a shift in tone would get these men to leave. “Are we close to being done; I was quite busy beforehand…”

Ignoring him, the questioning continued. “So do you know where were they going? Where they live?”

“What the? How am I supposed to know that? I have no goddamn idea!”

Who are you guys? What do you want? Just get out!

The con frowned. “Listen -”

“Look! You listen!” Eugene shouted.  “I told you! I! Don’t! Fucking! Know!”

“No you listen here you bloated meat sack, things are about to get really messy for you.”

“Go to hell!” he snapped, sending a glob of spit onto the man’s face.

Wiping the phlegm that caressed his cheek, the prisoner blinked. His gray eyes were suddenly black with a flowing ring of deep crimson.

“Been there already and hated it, as you’re about to find out.” He swung his arm, the handcuffs crashing into the countertop and shattering the glass.

The officers rushed in and grabbed Eugene, holding him firm as he attempted to get free. They were so much stronger than he was. Unnaturally so. They yanked him hard across the demolished counter, scraping his body over the hundreds of razor edges inside and like a limp doll they hurled him onto the floor before going to scoop him back up.

The prisoner surveyed the splintered glass like he was shopping for jewelry, looking for the largest and most beautiful one he could find. There it was. Reaching in, he removed a long, knife-like shard and turned to face Eugene, who was still struggling with his little bit of might.

“Please…” he quivered, shaking uncontrollably on his cracked legs as fear overtook him. “I’ll do anything. Just let me -”

His eyes met those empty, red rimmed pupils as a thin line of prickly heat glided over his neck. Warmth flowed from the gash and over his chest, oozing down his body like a broken egg.  He had no choice but to continue looking at the unforsaken gaze drilling into him, gasping for breath before his round body toppled.

The man removed his boots as Eugene expired, a faint whisper of breath skating across the shiny pool. He stepped into the brackish liquid, still pleasantly warm, and used one of his bare feet to shove the body out of the way.

“Spiritum meum, victor erit,” he uttered in an abyssal tone that shook the walls. “In malign positus, loquar!”

The store lights flickered and showered the room with sparks as the blood snaked under his clothes all the way up his body. Rushing from his collar, the tendrils wormed their way around his lips as he continued to speak in a long lost, guttural language.

“Onoskelis, it is I,” he said demonically.

A few minutes later a voice boomed, coming from all directions. It was fathomless, forceful, and feminine. “What news do you bring, Stolas?”

“Tonight we have confirmed that the Hardy coven was, at last, decimated.”

“Excellent work,” she said. “You and your company will be rewarded. That little bitch learned what a mistake it was to turn against us, as will they all in time. Now, we must focus our attention to the north and the wendigos -”

“Your grace,” he interrupted. “The coven was decimated, but not by us.”

It grew eerily quiet.

The buzz of the freezers took over, echoing in Stolas’ ears as he remained outwardly calm. However, the shadow inside strove to maintain composure. His host’s skin became itchy and it was impossible to remedy.

“Onoskelis?” he said nervously. The long pause remained for nearly a minute more. Cautiously, he carried on with the report. “Based on the use of Solomon weaponry, scientifics, and other trace evidence at the scene, we believe the attack was carried out by a small team of Journeymen. Specifically -”

“Gage… Crosse,” her voice resonated, toppling boxes from the shelves. Gage had managed to find a way to be at the epicenter of nearly every major supernatural event over the last couple of years. He was certainly a man on a mission after the death of his parents and that made him extremely dangerous, especially to demonkind. She could respect that, but also knew that if he was involved then there was a definite threat to their immediate plans.

“Yes,” Stolas confessed meekly. “We have reason to believe he is based somewhere in the Houston area with this team of his. We are working to find out where that is but it is heavily warded, as is his transportation.”

“Is there reason to suspect he knows anything of our plans?”

“Well, not in detail. There were also no prisoners taken but, there is no way for us to know what Hardy told him before her demise.”

“Hmmm,” she replied. “We cannot afford to have that behemoth poking around. You are to keep your distance and remain where we are at our strongest: in the shadows. Our plans are making considerable headway and any suspicion about or attention on us shall be kept to an absolute minimum. Is that clear?”

“It is, your Grace.”

“That brings me to the manner of your contact with me, Stolas.”

He swallowed hard, noticing the shorter cop had stepped forward a few paces, fitting gloves over his hands.

“How did you come about finding enough blood to use this spell?”

“The… shopkeeper,” he disclosed.

“The shopkeeper,” she repeated. “Who happens to own the store that infamous demon slaying menace had just… fucking… visited?”

A hand latched onto his arm, spinning him around. Shorty had him, brandishing a small iron blade resembling a railroad spike. Demonic seals were engraved down its entire length.

A few feet away, the spindly cop murmured with his head bowed and Stolas realized what was happening too late. He attempted to step out of the pool of now stale blood, but his feet were frozen, the liquid around them crystallizing into icy clamps. He was trapped like a rat in a cage.

A coughing fit followed as the taller cop’s whispers picked up pace. Umbral mist laced with red belched from Stolas’ mouth with each uncontrollable hack.

I need to get out of this sack of skin! he thought while closing his eyes as he tried to eject from the host. There was no guarantee that there was anyone nearby to repossess in time, but that was a risk he was willing to take and it was certainly better than the permanent fate he knew was coming.

The shadowy form of a night raven spawned briefly, ready to take flight, but suddenly glitched back into the body that now anchored him.

“You have made some mistakes in the past, my not-so-wise feathered friend,” Onoskelis chastised. “Perhaps those herbs you’ve been so fond of have clouded your judgment. But knowing that particular Journeyman is so close to us and our plans, we must be far… far more careful. We can afford no more mistakes like this and we cannot afford your grand levels of stupidity any longer. Vale, Stolas!”

The store rumbled once more and she was gone.

Before he could get another word out, the iron spike made its way into his chest. Shorty smirked as he turned the blade and Stolas convulsed; sooty vapor wafted out of every pore yet was heavy and sank to the floor. Holding onto the weapon, Shorty pushed Stolas backwards.

Hell did not await him, nor Heaven. The unmitigated dark of the abyss swallowed his corrupt demonic soul before he hit the floor, utterly and unquestionably dead.

The gangly cop then walked over to the counter, grabbed a shard of glass, and placed it into Eugene's hands. He turned back to his partner. “I’ll prepare in here,” he said peacefully.

Shorty nodded, exiting the store. He walked to the police car parked under the filling station awning and settled calmly into the seat, lifting the radio. Pressing the button, he spoke with authority, “This is Officer Sullivan. We have a coroner's case at Montgomery's Gas and Convenience.”

CHAPTER FIVE

YOU KNOW the time of the morning where if sleep evaded you, none of the options laid out on the proverbial table for rest were going to pan out? As luck would have it, that's exactly the time Adrienne found herself in. The sun was still well below the horizon and she couldn’t sleep if she wanted to.

I bet Joey is still awake too, she thought as she walked down the hall, poorly trying to justify her own insomnia. That was a lot of sugar, caffeine, and whatever else shoved into those slender cans he was knocking back like a crack whore turning tricks.

On the other hand, Gage was probably sawing enough logs to add a third story to the Lodge. That goddamn grizzly tease, innocently snoozing up there while she was down here, wide awake with him fully on her mind.

She stumbled her way into the kitchen, her vision blurred by fatigue and the annoying flickering above the sink. A certain man was tasked with fixing that light and he had obviously made it a top priority. Squinting between its random flashes, she looked out the tiny window.

The GMC was parked caddy-cornered to a gold ‘80 Z28, its classic American lines making Gage’s baby look downright clunky in comparison, kind of like its owner.

Beyond the vehicles pitting themselves against each other, the trees swayed with a trance-inducing dance and just past the grassy expanse a section of the metallic ring that surrounded the property shone in the moonlight. The rain had also started to pick up; still a drizzle, it would likely be a steady downpour within the next hour.

Parched, she sluggishly opened the cabinet where the drinking glasses should be, only to find there were none inside. A glance down at the sink showed her where they had gone: swimming in a cesspool of dirty dishes while a large air bubble belched at her with a pop.

Sigh.

As she started cleaning and cursing under her breath, a huge mass entered the room and loomed behind her. Stepping up, it grabbed hold of her shoulder and she twirled, flicking off the dagger that was still on her belt. She quickly raised it high and let the tip sink in, releasing a small trickle of blood.

Fuck, it was Gage – no third floor construction project was going on tonight.

He wiped the stream of red off with a single swipe from his thumb and then rubbed his beard with the other hand, all while letting out a beastly yawn. He stood there, shirtless as usual, in another pair of tight, low riding jeans that looked nearly identical to his countless other pairs.

This pair seemed to have the magical ability to get tighter the more he moved, showing off all the goods both front and back. She idled on his barely contained behind before reality threw her back.

“Really?” she snapped.

“What?” he replied, reaching into the sink to pick up one of the used glasses. “It's just moi, gorgeous.”

She pushed him hard, knocking the glass back into the dishwater, sending some of it splashing across her already grimy tank top.

“Oh I don’t know,” she said with another Gage-induced eye roll. “Maybe the fact that we just cleared that coven full of…” She paused as her mind wandered between the circus of vampiric freaks they fought and the primal that nearly killed her. “Sorry, I just haven't had a chance to chill out yet or get rest like some people. I mean shit, I can't even get a glass of water for my parched soul without having to navigate my way through a level of hell left behind by you and Joey.” She waved her hands frenetically over the pile of dirty dishes before crossing them in an attempt to look imposing. Her head was cocked to one side.

Gage wasn’t taking the bait; in fact, he had some of his own.

“My bad, my bad,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. “After all this time I thought you could handle the stress of monstrous beasts.” He calmly turned his fingers downward.

“Most beasts I can,” she said. “Yourself included.”

He shifted a bit closer to her, turning her away from the sink and pressing her against the central island. He leaned in toward her ear.

“I doubt that,” he whispered. “Certain monsters were made to make people scream.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you make all the ladies scream with this,” she said while darting her hand out to grab the front of his jeans. There was much more there than she realized; than she wanted. Her eyes shot up to his as he raised an eyebrow in agreement.

“Not just the ladies darlin’,” he corrected. “People scream. Better watch yourself. Don’t get lost and become… prey.”

It was suddenly very warm. She found herself looking straight into his eyes, unable to pull away, eagerly wet underneath her jeans.

“I don’t get lost easily,” was all she could manage to say.

“We’ll see.”

At that moment, Joey walked by the archway separating the kitchen and dining room. He was carrying a couple of empty bags to the storeroom for supplies. As he passed, he stopped about halfway and saw two silhouettes; Adrienne pinned with Gage looming over her. His hulking back and shoulders were easily twice her width, arms triple the thickness. Joey spent some time studying them, transfixed by Gage’s shape for what seemed like forever. He realized he should leave before he was seen, but as soon as he started again, the floorboards turned him in.

In the low light Gage looked up and he zoned in, eyes drifting from Joey's disheveled hair down the open flannel shirt laid over a lightly furred chest, past the bulging jeans all the way to his muddy boots and right back up again.

Oh how he loved to make people scream. He tossed Joey a wink, which sent him on his way.

ADRIENNE LAID BACK in her comfy bed wondering what had happened earlier.

She had heard a little creak and soon after, Gage had pulled himself away from her and went back upstairs. She took a moment alone at the kitchen table to finish off a glass of water before somehow ending up back in her room. The journey back up here was a blur as he would not leave her mind, filling it with an endless cycle of thoughts and possibilities.

The rain beat against the roof, the normally restful sound causing a calamity in her soul. Part of her was outside, dancing by herself joyously in the rain. Another was tucked up underneath a tree locked in a passionate kiss, while yet another was here in her room gazing out at all the dancing and kissing going on. She focused in on that piece, searching for an answer.

As she looked upon herself from the outside, she had the most difficult time understanding what feelings she could read on own her face. Was she content to be up here alone? Was she sad? Did she long for the time under the tree with another, or for a solo number in the rain?

Why was this so damn difficult?

Speak to me Adrienne!

There was no reply.

Frustrated, she got out of bed and propped herself up against the window sill. The steady beat of rain drew her attention back out the window where she found herself again, dancing solo. As she watched, she felt pretty satisfied. That is, until a figure walked up to her and a hand grabbed hers, bringing her close. It was Gage, soaking wet from the rain as well. Together they held each other in the deluge, perfectly still with no other motivation to move. Immediately all felt right.

That was all she needed to know.

She crept down the hall as to not wake Joey up, though the heavy roar of the storm would have muffled any noise she would make passing by his door. Before she knew it, she had arrived outside Gage’s room. The door was cracked open and there was a small amount of lamplight coming from inside.

She pushed the door open and peeked inside. She was nervous that she was even in his room, especially so when she saw the sight of what sat on the edge of the bed. Gage was there with arms rested on his thighs, looking down in deep thought.

This is a mistake, she thought, inching back out of the room. While she retreated he happened to look up; little did she know he had been wrestling with the same things.

“Hey there,” he said softly. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, um. Just checking to see if you were alright. You left in a bit of a hurry downstairs.”

“I’m good,” he said, leaning back onto the bed. His body looked amazing in the soft light, every single cut and line calling out for attention, especially those tempting v-lines that receded into his jeans. “How about you, darlin’?”

“Me? I’m okay,” she replied, wanting to touch him everywhere.

“Ya sure?”

“Yup.”

He slowly laid himself all the way down on his back. “Well, I think the door frame can hold itself up. Come on in,” he said while patting the open space to his left.

Part of Adrienne still contemplated leaving, but her desires pushed her forward. She closed the door behind her and moved across the sparsely decorated room, bachelor-like in its level of simple and clean. The lines of the furniture were straight like the picture frames on the wall, each holding vintage images of construction workers on beams high above New York City. After a few strides, she sat down gently beside him as he laid there perfectly still.

He looked up at her beautiful brunette hair and skin, dewy like the morning, while she looked down at his ruggedness, so hard and captivating. The veins she had traced earlier in the truck were apparently only the tip of a very large iceberg; they criss-crossed everywhere on his body. As she pondered another road trip along them, she saw a large lump forming in the front of his jeans, growing with each passing second.

He raised a hand to run her hair through his fingers. It was luxuriously soft and when he withdrew, the smell of tea tree and mint trailed behind.

“Did ya get lost on your way here?” he asked her.

Adrienne thought she would be ready for this. Part of her wanted to bolt out the door right then but as she continued to look down, she saw that the bump had grown a significant way down his pant leg. She knew that he went commando from his all too frequent plumber impressions and this must have been the reason why. But no way was it that large. Was it? How did it even fit in there? She had to know, primal instincts hastily taking over.

“I must have taken a wrong turn,” she replied, resting a hand on his left leg. No sooner than she touched him, a wet spot formed at the end of the bulge.

Good lord.

“Well, I did warn ya about what would happen,” he said with a pulse that made the spot grow a little more. “I'm about to show ya a lot of things, darlin’. Best be ready.”

She wasn't.

His stare, rooted and green, commanded her to stay put. A sudden heat formed at the back of her neck as he stood up in front of her and unbuttoned his jeans, motioning for her to do the rest as he placed his hands down into his back pockets.

The zipper began its way down, a forest of veins and thick lines plunging into the confines. She had seen these jeans so frequently over the last year, never once imagining she would be getting inside them. Yet here she was.

He was still pulsing as the zipper fell, the spot in his jeans growing larger.

Once the jeans had been unfurled, she grabbed each side just above the front belt loops and pulled down. They didn’t move. She tried again and slowly but surely they lowered, fighting her along the way.

A few seconds later they were stuck again.

She reached around, grabbing his tucked hands. He resisted a bit, forcing her to lean dangerously close to his still caged monster. With her head mere inches from him, he finally moved his hands with hers over his ass, and the jeans were free to move again.

They had slipped down far enough for her first glimpse of the beast: the base was so wide with thick veins roping down the shaft. Her heart leapt while she backed her head up and continued to drag the jeans downward, his large balls swinging free along with the rest of him. There was certainly no shortage of Gage anywhere.

All of this was so surreal and in a world where garden gnomes were alive, that was saying something. She wanted to touch it so badly, just to see if it was real, but that wasn't going to happen right now.

As she reached out her hand, he firmly grabbed hold and lifted her up to his face, pressing her hard against his body. Each one of his striations was hard as marble, his skin soft to the touch. It was difficult to describe the feelings coursing through her at that moment, but dizzy with excitement was probably the most accurate.

Gage didn’t wear cologne, yet had a natural musk that she had caught faint whiffs of before. Now that she was so close to the source and not in a life or death battle, she simply wanted to be drenched in it. Needing more of the intoxicating scent, she tucked herself in closer to his neck and drew a long breath.

That’s when he leaned in, pulling her back by the hair to bite her lower lip, transitioning into a kiss. His lips and beard were supple and the trace of peppermint on his breath mingled with her own. It was a kiss that seemed to last a century, setting her legs to tremble while she shivered uncontrollably.

Seeing the effect, he was having on her was like a drug and he powered on.

He took time to undress her, placing her back onto the edge of the bed while slowly pulling off her top. He savored the moment, running over her velvet skin with the tips of his thick fingers. Her bra soon joined the shirt on the floor and he caressed each of her breasts in his hands. As he looked at them in the golden lamplight, he spread his fingers and went in to tease a nipple between his teeth. And so the other would not be jealous, he followed suit and did the same to it.

She let out a low sigh that forced him to stand up. He squeezed his sizable self in between those voluptuous mounds for a couple of slow strokes. Responding like a faucet, he knew that he needed to slow down before he cascaded over the point of no return.

There was no way she was going to get out of screaming.

He pushed her back onto the bed and she bounced a couple of times. Bending over, he grabbed hold of her jeans and they came down along with her panties.  As they fell he saw her tattoo on the front of her hip; a small heart was laid on a bed of olive branches in the shape of the infinity symbol. No wonder he’d never noticed it before tonight.

Her jeans continued to rolling off her slender hips as Gage took the chance to sample her, his beard tickling between her legs as he enjoyed playing with his long tongue. She tasted good, so good the beast wanted some of its own.

Adrienne watched as he stepped over to the nightstand, bouncing in all the right places, coupled with that perfect amount of swagger. He pulled the top drawer and opened a wrapper, setting the torn packet off to the side. She caught glimpse of an ‘XL’ emblazoned across the front of it and swallowed hard as he kicked a hip out, flexing his glorious buttocks in a way that defied gravity.

She still shivered with excitement and perhaps now a hint of fear.

Sheathed, he walked back in front of her, his thigh tattoo catching the light as he grabbed hold of her legs, setting them around his neck. He flexed and countless lines danced across his muscular quads.

Don’t look down, she told herself as the quivering subsided. Of course that meant she instantly took a peek at what was coming. The condom strained against the entire length of his rod, every ridge looking as if it was going to burst.

Holy shit! she thought as his broad head rested right against her door and she was about to let him in. When he starting swirling it around, the shivers kickstarted again.

At last he entered, pushing his power tool into the welcoming warmth. It was a tight fit and she writhed in silent, agonizing joy after only a couple of inches. Double digits still remained. This was going to be an incredibly long… oh my God!

Her firm hold sent waves of pleasure down his shaft. He looked over her naked body as he throbbed in reply, wondering why they had waited so long for this. The feelings were beyond incredible and she was even more so.

But she wasn’t going to control him. Each time it looked as though comfort was setting in, he taunted her by sliding in a fraction deeper, her wetness making it easier the longer they went. He definitely loved being in charge of the situation, but noticed that he was now over halfway in. Nobody had ever lasted to the end of a battle with this beast before yielding a scream.

Unbeknownst to him, Adrienne had been screaming since the first moment they became one. As he continued to press on, the exhilaration of the night became too hard to contain and she overflowed onto the covers.

It was time.

Her flow allowed Gage to push himself deeper and as he plowed all the way in, he grabbed her and rolled completely over. Now on top, she screamed as he went balls deep, pulling back before charging in once more.

And again.

Oh Gage!

And again.

Ahhhhhhh!

Her eyes couldn’t focus as the world became a blur.

He flipped her back over and furiously drilled her, grinding away until the pressure built so much he couldn’t hold back. Waves of euphoria overcame them both as he surged, unleashing a carnal bellow before pulling out and collapsing in a massive, meaty heap at her side.

Her vision slowly returned to normal as he laid there utterly spent.

Soreness began to take over the lower half of her body as she looked over to Gage, now facing her way with an emerald fire in those eyes. Sweat had beaded across his back and forehead and he breathed heavily.

“Was that a scream I heard from you?” she asked, tapping his nose lightly with a finger.

His brow furrowed. “I dunno what ya speak of,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said back, looking at the ceiling.

Gage loomed into view, pressing his chest against hers while his hair had molded into the textbook definition of bed head. “I don’t scream,” he said with a underlying growl. “Now take that back or there may be some punishment.”

“Well,” she said. “Fortunately someone has me immobilized.”

He leaned in for another welcomed kiss.

CHAPTER SIX

THE LODGE

THE BIRDS CHIRPED their melodious morning vocals despite it being another dreary and overcast day. Per Adrienne’s weather prediction, the sun worked to burn its way through the thick mist and cloak of gray drizzle that did not want to leave.

The Lodge, as it was know by the team, sat quietly on its grassy mat nestled amongst the trees. It was a plain but spacious two-story wood cabin, inviting at first glance if not overly rustic. A separate garage, which also doubled as a workshop, was a leisurely stroll from the main house. It was dubbed Joey’s Supernatty Funhouse by Gage, even though he was frequently in there using the makeshift gym set up in the front.

From there and other spots around the property, glints of metal could be seen snaking in and out of the ground like a shiny thread. The power of iron being ancient and fundamental, Joey’s father Arthur created the continuous barrier from thousands of molten railway ties before they moved in to use the land as their base of operations. The setup was sufficient enough, when coupled with masking and renewal sigils, to keep the place off of the map while physically repelling most supernatural beings.

Along both sides of the dirt path between the two buildings were less arcane stacks of lumber to fuel the cabin’s wood burning stove and fireplaces. Gage could often be seen out there chopping after his workouts, getting in his cardio while keeping the place well stocked.

Overall the place was simple, but it was home.

Upstairs in the Lodge, Joey had awakened earlier and sat alone beside his bed with the lights off, the room cast in a monotone shade not far off from the ink shading along his left forearm. He could have sworn he heard muffled screams from down the hall overnight, wishing it was his imagination but suspecting it wasn't after what he had seen in the kitchen.

Gear of all shapes and sizes found itself scattered all over the comforter and floor, while gadgets at various stages of completion adorned multiple rows of shelves lining all four walls. Resting peacefully in the corner of the room, a set of radios sat atop a small desk, their displays dark from inactivity. Beneath their tiny peg feet, a collection of scribbled notes offered some cushioning for the already scratched, antique surface.

Joey’s room, similar to the JSF, was a “chaotic mess of ordered purpose,” meaning that from the outside it looked as if a hurricane tore through on a nightly basis, but he knew exactly where each and every item was, or at least where it should be in those cases when Gage came in for an unsanctioned raid.

Joey cleared an area in the center of the bed, his nerdy if not somewhat twisted sense of humor evident in the zombified arm print clawing its way around the edges of the blanket.

He lifted his phone from its charging dock on the nightstand and slung himself on his back, head landing squarely in the center of the fake blood splatter that was printed on the pillowcase. Teasing some of his long, dark hairs between the fingers of his right hand, he clicked on the photo gallery with the other and navigated to a special folder that he had dedicated to Gage. One at a time, he began to flip back through the pictures.

He paused briefly on a selfie that caught his eye; this was one he had been sent after Gage had finished a wood chopping session back in June – God what a tease. Covered in sweat with his trademark eyebrow lift, sunlight glistened off the moisture pouring from Gage’s tight body. The unique angle of the shot instantly made Joey think of the view one would have should they be… engaged in nightly cardio, so it was easy to imagine the tree canopy that was in the shot dissolving away to become a ceiling. Perhaps a bedroom ceiling. If he had to admit it: his bedroom’s ceiling.

He stirred a little before carrying on, stopping at a photo of Gage and himself after their last vampire clearing several months back. Joey’s full sleeve hadn't been finished yet, so the black inks that were peeking out of his bloodied shirt stopped just above the elbow. The both of them stood next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders, cheesing hard. A quick swipe showed a nearly identical shot, but Gage had playfully stuck out his tongue.

Smiling loosely, a chuckle worked its way out as he brought a piece of hair down to his mouth and nervously chewed on it. He wondered if he was reading too deeply into things between the two of them.

Could there ever be anything but friendship here, Joey?

Gage always seemed to up the level of flirting between the two of them when he needed something - be it some tech to tinker with or a task that needed to be done.

Would this amount to anything other than an emotionless fling? Do you want it to?

Joey didn't mind however, since he enjoyed feeling wanted and needed during those times. After all it was Gage, and his friendship meant a lot to him.

Should something happen, would your friendship be irreparably changed?

He continued to ignore the voice nagging in the back of his mind, shutting his eyes and sending himself into a world of what could possibly be. The drab melted away and the room was now full of warmth. Gage came in and settled beside him on the bed, wrapping those burly arms all the way around him. It felt like it was going to be good, forever.

Joey… stop ignoring me. Do you love him?

He finally took notice of his own questions, pondering on the last one for a while. Gage was someone who managed to hold his attention, oftentimes for way too long a stretch. For some reason, he would keep him high on a pedestal, whether it be his personality, the way he made him feel, the unknown of whether or not he felt the same way, or maybe because he showed a dominant side Joey found intriguing. Whatever it was, Gage was the one making him think ‘wow, this guy talking to me… and we are friends… and I like it.’

But sadly, forever wasn’t going to start today. Joey’s eyes cracked open and the stodgy gray of the ceiling welcomed him back to reality.

Bummed, Joey sighed as he looked around the empty room. Gage hadn’t come in, wasn't there, nor was he holding him. Perhaps if his brown hair was longer and more tousled things could be different, but he wasn't that girl.

His mind was far from the chaotic mess of ordered purpose he knew how to handle. It had become plain chaos in there and the trips he was making down Feelings Avenue would most likely remain one way. Gage wasn't coming toward him in the opposite direction and his life was certainly going to keep on trucking whether or not Joey was in the other lane.

So with that, Joey tried to evict him from his thoughts, or at least keep things focused on the platonic. But shit, before long he was once again thinking about his ripped body, chiseled jaw, and gruff but characteristic manscaping. That's when he found himself reaching to unbutton his jeans in order to ease some of the growing tightness. If the statues of Perseus and Poseidon tattooed on his forearm could close their eyes, they surely would right about now.

Gage had walked out of his room and was stepping down the hall when he paused in front of Joey’s cracked bedroom door. He was about to knock and check on him, when through the thin gap he noticed him lying down on the bed. Retracting his hand from the distressed door frame, he watched for a moment as Joey made his way into the front of his jeans and his head slowly slid back into the soft pillow. His left pec flexed, striations cutting across the musical score and red flowers that adorned it.

Gage debated watching the entire thing as his eyes followed the few petals drifting down from his shoulder to elbow, but his stomach heeded the call of breakfast and took back over.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Joey's hands shot back up toward his chest, the jolt nearly sending his phone into his face.

“Morning, bossman,” said Gage without the slightest indication he had noticed what was going on mere moments before.

“Oh! Um… hey! Hey there G,” Joey stuttered awkwardly as he casually stretched, then buttoned up his pants.

“Are ya getting up to anything?” asked Gage.

“Nothing. Just um… chilling a little.”

“Ya can't beat that first thing in the morning,” Gage said with an amused smirk.

Joey caught on to Gage’s not-so-subtle wordplay, replying, “Yeah, it's such a stress reliever. So what’s the deal? You seem more chipper this morning than usual. Did you have a good night?”

“Oh yes,” he responded, “I had a great night. After the downright exhausting fun of the last few days, it was nice to finally unwind. Plus, I have nothing official on the calendar today, so it's a win all around.”

Yeah, I bet you had such a great night unwinding with her, didn’t you? Joey thought callously.

“That's just plain awesome,” Joey said, careful not to let his thoughts slip. “I think I'll take the opportunity to play around in the Funhouse today and see what kind of coolness I can devise for our future missions.”

“Hell yes,” said Gage with a massive Cheshire smile. He took a quick glance out the window and noticed the sun hadn’t peeked out from behind the cloud cover. “Oh and since I can’t tan today thanks to the weather, figured I would get more wood chopping in at the lean-to after breakfast. Speaking of, Ady’s already downstairs whipping us up bacon and eggs. Ya hungry?”

Joey’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food, but the thought of Gage chopping wood wouldn’t leave. “More wood?” he asked, knowing full well there was more than plenty of it stockpiled. He looked down, catching a glimpse of the photo that was still pulled up. Quickly he closed it, hoping Gage hadn't seen anything.

Of course he already had. “Well, it’s decent cardio as you know and also great practice for sport fucking,” the big guy replied with a wink.

“What?!” said a bewildered Joey. He looked up to where Gage was just standing, only to find him already gone.

How the hell could that moose of a man move so fast?

Just then, one of Joey’s radios began chirping, followed by another, then another. Soon they were all sounding off, the instrument panels flared up like slot machines as Joey rushed over to see what was going on. He quickly scanned over it all, not knowing where to focus until the flickering amber light on the smallest radio drew his attention. His heart was in his throat as he flipped over the comm switch and listened.

“Oh damn!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

AN UNEXPECTED CALL

SHORTLY AFTER, Joey bounded downstairs, rounding the corner into the kitchen. The smell of bacon greeted him along with the pleasing warmth from the wood burning stove. His pleasant mood was short lived when he noticed a similar sight to the night before. This time there were no silhouettes.

Gage clearly stood behind Adrienne with his hand on her hip. He gently rubbed it before leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek. Nabbing a glass of water, he headed over to the breakfast table and sat down.

“Ah there’s my man!” Gage said, smiling large.

Joey nodded, giving a half-assed grin in return before walking over to the cabinets himself.

“Excuse me,” he said to Adrienne as he reached over for a large tumbler.

“Morning there J,” she said happily. Her mood was quite elevated as well.

“Morning,” he replied lightly, filling his glass to the brim with pulpy orange juice. He popped the container back in the fridge and kicked the door closed with his foot.

He took a seat across from Gage, visibly excited. Guzzling down most of the juice, he then thrust his elbows on the table, hands gesturing at a hundred miles per hour, narrowly missing the glass with each pass.

“Guys! Get this! The channels are lit up about the Noctis. Like all of them… even Gold!” he shouted energetically.

Adrienne nearly dropped her spatula. Setting it down, she turned to face Joey. “Really? That hasn't happened in a little while. Never too soon though, if you ask me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, last time it happened was the Incursion of 2010 and before that way back during World War II with the occult stuff the Nazis were dabbling in. Dark times, the both of them.”

Gage appeared at a loss. “The… Incursion? My bad. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in dealing with these damn red eyes since getting introduced to this world I forgot to attend my supernatural history lessons.”

Joey’s face lit up like a beacon. “Well -” he began.

Adrienne jumped in before he got anymore out, picking up her utensils. “The Incursion was a huge deal for the Journeymen five years ago. You know that the Order is far from perfect these days, a lot of that due to major losses in numbers. A lot happened gradually but most occurred during the Incursion. It all started when there was some internal strife amongst the powers that be on the Council -”

“When isn't there?” Joey horned in.

“And one of them,” she continued, “feeling as though his voice was being suppressed, went rogue. He was a powerful archmage, a human named George Thurston. He had some pretty wild ideas on humankind and how we fit in the hierarchy of things.”

“Yeah,” said Joey, crossing his arms. “Right on top with the any supernatural at the bottom of his grimy boot. Didn't do much for the relations between them all. The wiz then had the bright idea he should steal away with the Grimoire of Shadows from the deepest recesses of the vaults. The shit stored in there you just don't mess with; they're locked away for a host of reasons, none of them good.”

Adrienne loaded their plates with hot bacon from the pan. “He used the book and coupled it with his own magic in an attempt to gain more power for himself, enough to try and punish the Journeymen for what they'd supposedly done to him and bring his vision of an enslaved supernatural world to fruition. However, his plans backfired when he found a complicated spell that could open a doorway to ultimate power and used it.”

“Which was his dumbass move number two,” Joey interjected. “Those dusty grimoire spells are incredibly powerful and even their names are meant to scare you away from casting them. It takes genius level talent to do that and an even greater mind to understand what it is those spells are actually doing. Most, if not all, of the incantations and recipes were sprinkled with unequal dashes of riddles and consequence. Of course that time was no different, Georgie taking what the spell was at face value. Again, his dumbass move numero dos. A little humility over hubris would have gone a long way.”

Adrienne continued, her voice dipping into sadness. “Yup. After the doorway was opened, it quickly became evident to Thurston that it was a massive mistake. We really don't know what it was, but it called itself Andhakara, a name or creature that nobody has found referenced in any of the lore books. It was dark, gruesome, and pitiless, some accounts saying it was so appalling that looking upon it could drive you insane. Now I don’t know if that’s just exaggerated writing from one of the chroniclers, but we all knew that it desperately wanted to be here, in our world. That's when shit hit the fan. Thurston was killed almost immediately trying to placate it and thankfully the Order knew he had the book, so mustered a quick response to the situation. Only a small part of the being managed to manifest itself here before it was stopped using everything the Journeymen had brought to bear upon it. Sadly though, not before there were a lot of casualties and an even longer list of lasting impacts. You’ll notice if you ever see the present day Council: humans are outnumbered on it these days.”

Joey shot a sideways look toward her while she heaped scrambled eggs onto their plates. Thanks for your input, he thought with a hue of rancor. I'm the knowledge base, bitch. He got up from the table and went to the fridge for some more juice.

“The icing on the cake?” he said as the liquid poured into his glass. “Andhakara was never actually destroyed. It was only banished back to where it came from, taking the book along with it. So, it's still out there, along with its brethren. We can thank Thurston for yet another opportunity for an apocalypse, as if we didn’t have enough options already waiting.” He looked over to Gage as he sat back down in his seat. “So you can see big guy, Gold channel being active again means the Order is concerned about the Noctis in a big away. Something is definitely happening with these demons up in the North, along with other movements in Eastern Europe and Australia. Not to mention the mobilizing of monsters in response even here in Houston. Whatever is happening, it’s global and it’s scary.”

Adrienne came by to set their plates down, returning to grab hers and another cup of coffee before joining them.

“I thought they were big trouble,” Gage said as he started eating. “But damn, this is bad news.”

Joey nodded. “What I was able to gather from what I heard upstairs is that they – the Noctis – are positioning themselves for something massive based on the scale and distribution of their activity. They haven't made any offensive moves yet, appearing to be on hold. Nobody seems sure what they are waiting for, but I would not be surprised if the Order called an Assembly within the next few weeks, my guess would be around Halloween, to address the situation.”

Gage crammed more food into his mouth, freezing at the mention of a meeting. “Say what?” he murmured. “I guess I missed that class too. We have mandatory meetings?”

Adrienne let loose a titter, as did Joey. He slapped the tabletop before taking another drink. “Dude, you have definitely been kicking ass off the grid since day one.”

“Um, yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “That's what we do as Journeymen out here in the field; aka the real world. I thought this was more of an ‘individually owned and operated’ type of thing anyway, doing things my own way, how I like it, to help people.”

“Yeah that's sort of how it works, most of the time,” Adrienne replied, lifting a bit of crispy bacon and teasing it between her teeth. “But it's like a franchise and we sort of have to keep within the lanes of the brand. Mandatory meetings are rare though and normally only happen when a big deal like this is going on.”

Gage snatched the bacon from her fingers and ate it, rolling his eyes mockingly. “Well shit. Where's the fun in that?”

Joey chuckled. “No fun at all but I'm sure they'd make an exception for you, after all the action you've seen… and caused first hand.”

Gage was unamused as he scraped up the last bit of food off his plate. He glanced over to their plates and noticed they had barely begun eating. Slow pokes.

“Yeah,” affirmed Adrienne. “Maybe you could just conference call in.”

Joey laughed and actually slapped his knee. “Special exemption granted to the world record holder for the number of ass kickings delivered over the three years since his unofficial induction.”

“You two can fuck off,” Gage said with a fat finger pointed toward each of them. Yanking his phone from his pocket, he tapped the corner on the table. “Calling in would be just peachy, if only this piece of shit would stay charged. It’s deader than a double tapped zombie… again.”

“Ugh, no idea what's causing it?” Adrienne asked, shifting from humor to concern. She was still puzzled by the issue, but maybe it was just a simple hardware issue.

“Other than it being a POS?” he responded. “Nope. I changed out the battery with a spare. No effect. Rebooted. No effect. I'm thinking after I flog on some logs I’ll pop into town and get another one. That way, I can be sure keep tabs on you two bastards and also conference in when the suits call their manda -”

Suddenly, the sounds of Don’t Fear the Reaper blared from the mobile phone, cutting through through the conversation and suppressing all the sounds in the room.

Slowly, Gage turned the screen and watched as it continued to ring.

What the hell?

There was no telephone number displayed as the screen flashed briefly, followed by several rolling glitches. His thumb hovered over the jittery answer button, but the phone died right as he brought it down.

Everyone sat quietly.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” asked Joey.

“It was,” said Gage to his reflection on the shiny screen.

“Well, something’s definitely up. Want me to take a look at it today?”

He pressed the power button a few times to no avail. “Yeah… sure thing J. Work your magic on it because it’s dead again. Would be nice to know what the hell is going -”

As if he were being mocked, the phone sprang to life again at full power. The screen jumped around but this time Gage was quick to answer it.

“Hello? Who is this?” he asked sternly, lifting the speaker to his ear.

Patiently he waited for a reply, but only the static spoke, accompanied by heavy riffs of bass.

“Hello!” he repeated again.

The interference continued as the undertones became more profound.

“Gage?” Adrienne asked while reaching out an arm. “What do you hear?”

He pulled his arm back, raising his index finger before placing it into his open ear, listening intensely.

The base continued to rumble over the static, yet patterns seemed to be forming. Were they words? He continued to listen, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out all other stimuli.

A few moments later distorted words arose out of the noise, interlaced with bursts of static.

“Gage… you must…”

The voice was sharp and deep; the words hurried yet commanding.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

“Gage you must… go… Gage you must go!”

“Wait… where do I have to go?”

Joey looked over to Adrienne and mouthed, “EVP?”

“Seems like it,” she whispered. “But there’s no way a ghost could be here at the Lodge.”

“This is really weird,” Joey muttered as they returned their attention to Gage, who was still shut off from the world in concentration.

“Where do I need to go?” he repeated.

The crackle and fizz of static filled his ear until one word boomed out from its depths.

“HOME!”

His eyes sprang open as he let out a short gasp.

The words repeated over and over, getting louder with each successive mention.

He pulled the deafening phone away from his ear as Joey and Adrienne exchanged fast glances, her arm now clenched around Gage’s forearm. He was visibly disturbed.

The words sank back into the ocean of static before the phone went dead once more.

“You okay big man?” asked Joey, noticing the intensity of Adrienne’s concern.

“Yeah,” he said, breathing deeply. “I’m alright.” He set the phone on the tabletop and pushed it away, sniffling. “Fuck.”

“What?” asked Adrienne.

“It told me to go home.”

“Back to Denver?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Haven’t been there in over three years since… that day.”

Something didn’t feel right about any of this.

“Why on earth would you have to go there now, because that voice told you to?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“It could be a trap,” said Joey. “It almost screams one to me.”

Gage was still trying to figure all this out for himself. Why home? Why now? It made no sense.

Joey elaborated, “We have no idea what that was; for all we know the Noctis could have found a way to hack into your phone and are trying to lure you into a death zone. You do have a reputation of being a demon slayer after all. One of the best.”

“If not the best,” said Adrienne in agreement. “I mean, why would you get such a mysterious call to go home now? After all this time? It seems incredibly smoky to me, especially since the activity on the radios just flared up.”

“Smoky. Haha. I like that,” Joey said with a chuckle. “But seriously, look at it this way too. If this is an actual supernatural event and not a technological one, whatever did it had to be incredibly powerful in order to get past the defenses here. Hell, I’m not sure how that's even possible now that I've said it. Now I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be toying with anything that could do that. We have a lot of crazy stuff happening right now with these monster alliances and movements. It’s just dangerous out there man, especially without a plan.”

“So yes,” Adrienne said. “We agree it’s a trap.”

“You could be right, darlin’,” Gage said, but something gnawed at his gut, pulling him toward the road. “But, what if it’s something else?”

She closed her eyes, folded her arms on the tabletop, and collapsed her head between them. “Like what?!” she asked, shooting back up in amazement that Gage would still consider going.

“I dunno. All I know is something's telling me I need to go to Denver.”

Her hands flew through the air, slamming back on the table. “Exactly! ‘Something’! You’ve no idea what it is, Gage. So you’re just going to take off? Just like that and go home? With all this shit about to happen here.”

Oh boy, thought Joey. Lover’s quarrel in three… two…

“Geez, I ain’t going to be moving there Adrienne!” he shouted. “I’m just looking into this.”

“By yourself,” she countered. “You don’t even know where to start looking. Or how long this will take.”

“Oh for the love of all that’s holy. Home. The fucking voice said ‘go home’ so I’ll start there.”

She shook her head.

“What if this could help with the Noctis?”

“What if it is the Noctis!? I swear Gage, you can be so fucking reckless!”

“Excuse me?”

She crossed her arms and shot him a silent glance.

Well this is awkward, thought Joey as he stared into his empty glass, wishing he had more orange juice.

“Fine,” she said. “If you’re going, then I’m going to go with you. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“Oh no, no,” he said. “First you said this was too dangerous and now you want in? Can’t have both, sweetheart. Plus, I work best traveling alone.”

Damn those words cut deep. Even to Joey they stung a little bit. “Hey now!” he said.

Gage let out a loud groan and slammed a fist on the table, shaking the plates. One danced its way off the edge and onto the floor, shattering into several pieces.

“I guess the past year of working with us has held you back then?” asked Adrienne coldly, with a stare that could freeze her cup of coffee should she glance at it. “The mighty Gage Crosse being forced to drag a team around with him.”

Ady don’t drag me into this, thought Joey as he bent over to pick up the pieces of plate.

The chill of her words fell on Gage’s broad shoulders and he pinched them together. “That isn’t what I meant Ady…”

“Sure sounded like it to me.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“It’s -”

Ugh, enough of this! “Look you two,” Joey cut in. “Just shut up and go else we will be here all week! It's obvious you both like each other. Shit, it’s so drippingly obvious that it’s pooling on the floor and I'm gonna slip on it. You both should look at this as a means to get to know each other better. After all, that's what road trips are best for.”

A look of embarrassment fell across Adrienne’s face while Gage sat unfazed, his arms now crossed tightly over his chest.

“Plus,” Joey continued as he walked over to the trash can and placed the broken pieces of plate inside, “it'll give me a chance to get caught up here; listen in on this new demon chatter and talk to some old buddies of mine to see if there's anything we can do to either stem the redeye’s activities or to help the Order prepare for what’s to come.”

Gage lowered his head and ended up blowing a raspberry. “Fine,” he said snidely in Adrienne’s direction. “Guess we have some packing to do. So much for an event-free day.”

With that, the team ate the rest of their breakfast until the scraping of silverware on plates became the dominant sound in the room. Soon after, the kitchen emptied out in record time.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MAN’S BEST FRIEND

THE STREETS of Whittingham had grown gloomy in the wee hours of the morning; the sun still sleeping, yet to burn away the ample fog that had rolled in off the green hills.

Through the mist, the sounds of quick footfalls rose as two figures raced down Eaves Green toward its intersection with Ashley Lane. A small farm was nearby, bleakly taunting with opportunities and places to hide, but a solid stone wall blocked their way. Rows of tall evergreen hedges grew right up against them, all working together to keep the riffraff out.

“Dammit,” spat one of the men as a cockerel crowed, the eastern horizon growing brighter. Time was wasting and he quickly glanced across his shoulder to check if anything was on their heels. Nothing living was there, but a gray shroud masked everything including their pursuers; there was a moment to figure something out, but it would not last long.

He snapped his head forward, searching high and low for any break in the irregular cobblestone, or perhaps a thinned out part of the hedge that could be pushed through. If so, they could then hole up somewhere on the property - in the barn, under equipment, anywhere but the open road - until it was safe to slip away. He knew that continuing to run, especially with the coming dawn, would guarantee their capture.

The man grew a bit frantic when he couldn’t find a way in. Stress was on his face though he was fairly fit, displaying no real signs of fatigue beyond the nervous panting building from his chest.

Dressed in a dirty but tailored black suit and dingy cream shirt, the lack of entry gave him little choice but to resume dashing along the road, all the while looking as his fancy shoes pattered lightly against the asphalt. Unfortunately, nothing but solid rock continued to greet his efforts.

No, he thought, adamant about not going back to 2 Eaves Green. The two story detached house right sat off the road and was so typically British on the outside, but it was the inside that terrified him so. The torture that he endured there was… memorable to say the least, forgetful the most. It was the closest thing to experiencing actual Hell on Earth, right there between the home’s beige stone walls.

As he ran, he gripped the strap of a fashionable canvas shoulder bag tightly as it bounced around his right shoulder with each lengthy stride. He had managed to steal it away when they fled.

If anyone were looking out their windows at that moment, they'd likely think it quite an odd ensemble for a man to be wearing out in rural England while jogging in the middle of the night. Yet when one is kidnapped, a change of clothes isn't normally an option that is offered.

The man’s wardrobe paled in peculiarity to the person he was traveling with and should those same people still be watching from the safety of their homes, peeking coyly through their window shades, they'd likely think themselves drunk or dreaming.

“Would ye stop fretting, Henry!” came a low and assertive growl from behind, the words spoken with a defined West Country accent, “yer making things difficult. That there’s a farm we’re passing, not a castle, so there's bound to be a drive nearby. Methinks there’s one just east, up on Ashley.”

The gravely voice didn’t come from a man, but a large bipedal wolf that rushed past toward the crossroads ahead. Around his neck was a chain collar with tremendous links, the swinging end molten and issuing sparks as he went by. When he arrived at the intersection, he dropped to the pavement onto all fours and sniffed at both the air and ground.

“Way ahead is clear,” the wolfman stated, raising a long arm eastward as he rose back up on his hind legs. There was a wound on his left one, causing him to stagger a little when weight was placed on it. “We need to head up that direction.”

“My apologies, Geirolf,” Henry responded with much needed relief as he strode up to him, patting his furry shoulder. However, as his canine partner turned to face him, there was no comfort to be found in the face staring back.

Henry gulped before asking a question, knowing full well what the answer would be. “Is it them?”

Geirolf’s face indicated that indeed, their time was up. He snarled as his arms flared out to the side; claws flicked out like switchblades brandished for an attack.

Quickly Henry turned about, just in time to see six monstrous shapes at the fringe of the mist. The shadowy forms looked for all intents human but stood twice as tall, with twisted animal-like shapes attached to their silhouetted bodies. Yet out of the curtain of fog ordinary men emerged, their irises ablaze with red set against scleras darker than the night.

“The demonic bastards,” Geirolf muttered between his gritted teeth. “They've already discovered our absence.”

That was too fast, Henry thought. How did they see through the charm so quickly?

The six men, different sizes yet all considerably huge, charged at them with great speed. There was no time to think, only act.

“Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos,” Henry began, extending an arm out to help him focus before continuing the passage, “Regna terrae, cantata Dea psallite Aradia. caeli Deus, Deus terrae…”

As he continued to speak the incantation, all six suddenly decelerated as if their energy were being drained away. However, the power of the words was weak, spread across them all when it was only meant for one. This was not going to hold them for long.

Geirolf knew that Henry would only be able to slow them for a little while and could not stop speaking the invocation. With no other options, he took a breath and thrust a hairy hand into Henry’s bag. The protective enchantments on the bag seared his supernatural form and the smell of burning hair filled his nostrils, but he rejected the urge to scream, pushing it deep down inside. A short time later, he found what he was looking for, pulling out three palm-sized stones between his singed claws, still smoldering. They were flat like coins, each marked with a pentacle on one side and lines of invocation on the other.

With haste, he brought them all to his snout and breathed over them. The symbols awakened, sparking between the etched lines as he targeted the three closest demons, now kneeling on the ground, and flung the stones their way.

They twirled and whistled through the air, landing at the knees of each possessed man. The sparkling trails shot off to form stars before encircling them, each in their own individual traps.

“Goodbye, ye filth,” the werewolf said calmly but with antipathy. “Exorcizamus.”

The glowing pentacles leapt to life on the command, closing upon their hostages like massive bear traps. The human receptacles were unharmed by the gnashing teeth, but the smoking darkness that poured out of their orifices broiled under the onslaught of lightning. The vapors sank to the road and then beneath it, sizzling as the earth drew them back down to Hell.

The remaining possessed men were still upright, but with fewer numbers the invocation had doubled in strength and their movement slowed as if they were running through molasses.

Henry knew that soon he would need to choose only one to complete the exorcism. He looked to Geirolf, who had reached down into his wounded leg and removed a set of iron braces. Inserting the bloody metal into his mouth and over his teeth, he licked off the blood and nodded to signal that he was ready.

Henry selected the burliest of the group on which to pour all his focus. The others, now freed from the effects of the spell, immediately sped up and leapt into the air.

“... Benedictus Dea, Matri gloria!” Henry stated, finally completing the ritual.

A force thrust the massive man to the street and he writhed as an antlered form was ejected. Dark and terrible, it ascended no less than twelve feet above them, lunging toward Henry on hoofed feet, trying to possess him by force. With its shadowy talons mere inches from his face, a breeze whooshed all around them, catching the smoke and gently dissolving it away.

Henry choked as his fears were allayed; he was less than two seconds away from emptying the entire contents of his bladder down the front of his suit pants.

However, there was little time to compose a complete thought as the others had engaged Geirolf in battle. Their attack met with his sharp claws and powerful teeth crushed bone, fists flew, and serrated silver slashed its way through fresh dog meat. The back and forth continued for several minutes until Geirolf, wounded heavily by the argent blades, took hold of one of the men and clamped down on his neck.

The body shook uncontrollably as the host died and a gigantic black mass in the shape of a chimera was cast out by the iron surrounding his teeth. It had the traditional lines of a wolf, but spread out huge bird-like wings and whipped its serpent like tail. After roaring so loudly that anyone within a mile would have been woken, it dashed off toward the north for reinforcements.

“Blast!” Henry snapped as the shadow melded back into the mist. He reached into the bag and pulled out a banishment stone, shouting “Daemon Ejicio!”

The stone pulsed and red swirls of light spiraled out toward the man, held a good way off his feet by one of Geirolf’s considerable arms. He continued to stab at the hairy limb with his blade, even as the lights struck him and wrapped around tightly like ropes. The wolfman then released him, allowing the spell to continue carrying its prisoner off to the west and out of sight.

“Are you alright?” asked Henry, concerned by the amount of blood pooling beneath the pads of Geirolf’s feet.

Grabbing the silver knife sticking out of his arm, Geirolf jerked it out and threw it to the ground. The pain was indomitable and he couldn't hide a grimace. “I'll be fine,” he lied, “but we should get going while we can.”

“I agree,” came a strangely welcoming female voice from behind, “oh but wait, on second thought, I think not. Your luck and your time have run out.”

The two saw a tall woman standing in the middle of the street, dressed in black leather pants and a short but matching jacket covering a dark maroon shirt. She glared callously at them with her demonic eyes, thick blonde hair floating down her neck to her shoulders. She remained silent with an arm raised as if about to give a signal.

A small army of goblin-like creatures appeared out of the fields to the south. It dawned upon Henry with the rising sun that there had truly been no means of escape this day.

A large ogre, hideous and bloated, approached from the west. “I take back,” it said, words barely formed over its grunts.

“No,” the woman forbade, “the overseers at Number 2 failed in their simple obligations, unable to keep this unimpressive man and his… pet from escaping.” She looked back at the outlying hills; there in the distance a little over a mile away was a massive construction operation. “When you want something done right these days,” she said faintly, “you have to do it yourself. I'll take them.”

Geirolf and Henry were bound in warded chains, crisscrossed around their hands and feet, and set in the center of the goblin ranks as the mysterious woman confidently led them onto the site. It was desolate and dirty, all remnants of what had been there long erased by the vehicles and machinery parked haphazardly around the property.

Her feet crunched along on the brittle mud, which transformed quicker than a blink into tufts of dead grass that pushed up between the spaces in scattered debris, like stubble on a scabby chin. She had walked through a hole in the force field that encased the entire site, which also had an illusion spell over it to conceal what was beyond.

The prisoners were quickly ushered in as the goblins filed away into the fields, the ogre bringing up the rear and following all too closely for Geirolf; its stench was foul enough at a distance, but it was downright unbearable when the closeness of its breath teased his ruddy hair.

Once the four were inside, a group of hooded figures robed in black and gold rushed in and began chanting a guttural mantra. The hole began to shrink in response and within moments was closed firmly.

Henry raised his head, having kept it down since departing the farm. There were huge piles of rubble strewn around numerous derelict buildings, all aged from years of neglect and decay.

There was a large structure to their right; two stories of mottled brick that had once been a sanitarium, having declined and since closed after allegations of abuse and fraud putrefied its reputation throughout the community. It was primarily an institution for the mentally unstable, although a hospital ward had been in place for more traditional medicines and treatments.

Sweeping sets of broken windows set in off white frames wrapped around all sides, while a set of four dank columns lined the chunky, cracked steps up to the entrance. There was no door to the building, only an opening where one should have been.

That would not be their destination, the woman veering sharply to the left toward an old church on the grounds. Built of heavy stone, it was brown and weather-beaten, the once colorful panes of arched glass reduced to thin, jagged edges. A craggy steeple rose up through the dead shrubbery, its godforsaken presence towering over the rest of the area.

As they approached, a distant scream cut through the eerie silence from across the courtyard, catching in Geirolf’s ears. He looked over to see if anything could be made out. There was no one or thing to be seen, yet the wretched sounds continued to come from behind the facade of a deserted shack that stood all by itself on the far end of the property.

Poor soul, he thought without much more time to dwell on matters. Before long they had reached the bottom of the church steps, which rose up to a pair of doors, firmly shut.

“My God,” said Henry, bringing a hand over his mouth.

Aghast, he realized the lights at the base of the stairs – which he thought were adorned with cast metal heads – were capped with real ones, impaled right through the bottom. They cast a sickening orange glow on the walls and a wash of red spread out on the ground beneath them.

He wondered if they had been tortured prisoners, demonic soldiers that had failed their master’s bidding, or mere innocent souls from the town nearby. Knowing what he knew about these foul creatures, the last option was the most appealing. Desperately, he wanted to look away from the macabre sight, but could not bring himself to do so. He wanted to be far away from there, in the security of a safe house, but there was no means of escape.

Summoning what strength he had left in him, he managed to tear his watery glance away and bow his head. With few to no options left, he cupped his hands and began to pray silently; his words sending itches down to the woman’s bones.

“I don't think any of your gods will hear you here, Mr. Abington, ” she interrupted. “Especially the one you're trying to speak to.”

Defiantly, he continued and with a smirk she waved a hand, the doors creaking open by themselves.

The ogre grunted, pushing them forward and into the pew-less nave, still dark with the remnants of the night. The faint smell of incense still clung to the walls and the inside was oddly devoid of other demons. There was an air of peace about the place, which in turn made it more eerie.

Ahead of them was a simple stone altar, heavy and rectangular, covered in rich black satin. It sat underneath a marvelously detailed apse and in the days the building was alive it must have been a sight to behold.

“Grolg, bring them,” she commanded, snapping then pointing to the altar as she made her way behind it.

The lumbering beast hit them both in the shoulder, driving them along with arduous thumps until they were about ten feet away. There, he forced them each down to their knees, Geirolf struggling to keep himself conscious from the pain now coursing in his body.

Through labored breaths, the wolf cleared his throat to address her. “Who are ye?” he asked between the hard gasps and wheezes.

“Elasa impamis om -”

“In the common tongue, ye stupid bitch!” he bellowed, resulting in a cocky laugh out of her pompous face.

“Quite the mouth on you… Geirolf is it?” she asked, tapping a finger on her chin while scrutinizing him. “If I recall, that means ‘wolf spear’ in Nordic. My, my, what an unfitting characterization for such a pathetic beast, unless of course it was referring to your sharp tongue.”

“Cut to the chase, she-demon,” he retorted, spitting up blood. “Are ye going to answer my question or not?”

“Do you really think that you are any sort of position to be asking questions, mongrel?” she snipped. “In any case, we have all the time in the world to discuss matters before getting to know each other on a first name basis.” She then spoke directly to Henry, “Sadly, you're not blessed with as long a life, so won't be around for the best parts.”

She dipped below the altar and removed a carafe of wine, pouring it into a plain chalice before taking a long drink. It was bitter but refreshing, something she couldn't experience when in demon form, and it quenched her thirst if only for a short time.

After another swig of wine, she swished it around her mouth and reached back underneath the coverings. Out came a large silver dagger, its triangular blade twisting down its entire length and tapering to a sharp point. She swallowed as the tip clanged on the altar.

“Now I know that I should really start with that one,” she told Geirolf, pointing the knife over to Henry, “but this proverbial spear that you are named after… I'm fascinated by it and want to test it against my own metal.”

Methodically, she walked around the stone slab and stood imposingly ahead of the werewolf. With no warning and a quick flick, she cut across his snout and he heaved in agony, blood gushing from the wound.

“Geirolf!” Henry shouted, receiving a hefty strike from Grolg as a reward. He dropped onto his hands, fighting for breath, knowing that Geirolf didn’t have much blood left. The amount pooled on the floor was staggering and who knows how much had leaked out between here and the farm.

“Silence meat bucket!” she yelled. “It's not your turn… yet.” She grabbed hold of Geirolf’s muzzle, squeezing it where she had just cut it before pushing it off to the side. “So tell me fluffy, what do you Journeymen have to do with this activity along the Devil’s Highway? What exactly are you all looking for?”

There was silence.

Enraged, she slapped him hard across the face, sending more blood to the floor.

“I do not know,” Geirolf replied softly, determined not to let her break him, though inside he was hanging by a thread.

“Oh come now, traitor, surely the higher ups told you something? If not there, then what about the reconnaissance happening in Michigan? The buzz in New York? Why in Lucifer’s name is your Order messing around in things they do not understand?”

He returned to silence and she raised the knife to cut him again.

“Stop it!” Henry shouted. “Just stop! He wouldn't know! He's not even part of the Order, so how the hell would he know anything?!”

“Yet he chose to help you,” she responded coldly to his request for mercy, thrusting the dagger into the wolf’s shoulder, then again through his upper arm.

Geirolf winced, but remained vigilant.

“Well, my dear Henry,” she said. “ It seems as if you are right. The mangy mutt has absolutely no idea.”

“Yes,” Henry replied with relief. “That's what I've been telling -”

“So, there is no need to keep this treacherous hound around, is there? Grolg, eat! Be sinfully gluttonous!”

Geirolf looked to Henry with tears forming in his bloodshot eyes; the heaviness of the ogre’s footsteps counted down his impending doom.

Before long Grolg was right behind him, placing those giant hands on his shoulders and opening his mouth.

“Goodbye old friend,” Geirolf said, biting down hard on his back tooth and cracking a hidden L-pill full of silver nitrate. As he swallowed the solution, the acid burned his throat and he convulsed, Grolg dropping him to the ground. In seconds, his heart stopped beating and his brain was dead; Geirolf had passed, leaving behind the naked body of a man sprawled on stone tiles.

The woman looked to the dead prisoner, halting the ogre’s second advance on him. Partly impressed by his fearlessness and massively upset she didn't have the information wanted, she turned her attention to Henry, the red of her eyes burning more intensely than ever before.

“Your turn,” she said, turning the dagger in her hand while stepping over his way.

Suddenly the church shook, kicking up dust all around them, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Onoskelis, it is I,” a voice resonated daemoniacally from all around.

She cursed mildly under her breath and was visibly furious at the interruption. She threw the dagger to the altar, Geirolf’s warm blood splattering across the delicate coverings. Signaling to Grolg, she walked toward the vestry.

“Make sure our remaining guest is kept comfortable until I return,” she ordered. “Just be sure to not kill him.”

As she opened the door and stepped through, Henry's pained screams echoed through the cavernous church. Snapping her fingers, she answered the call as the doors closed behind her. “What news do you bring, Stolas?”

THE DEMON AGARES waited in room at the very back of the vestry, listening in on the ongoing conversation between Stolas and Onoskelis while stroking his long, wintry beard. He was dressed conservatively, ironically in something that one would likely wear when attending Mass.

His face, creased and experienced, held a deep crested frown as he took in the exchange.

“Vale! Stolas!” boomed her guttural voice from the other room. A second later the set of heavy doors flung open and she glided through, snapping her fingers to slam them closed again.

The church had become her own little sanctuary, away from the constant bickering and stresses over in the sanitarium. The vestry acted as another layer of peace in her otherwise chaotic world.

She took a prolonged breath, striding over to her elder attendant and with a quick blink transformed her eyes from red and black to the host’s original light blue.

“That damn idiot, Stolas. I can just see him trying to escape in his final moments or pleading for leniency.”

“Your Grace,” said Agares, blinking with his demonic eyes. “Were you able to gain any information about the Journeymen from the prisoners?”

“Not yet,” she replied, eyeing herself in a full length mirror in the corner of the room. “Grolg is tending to the human now. The werewolf literally bit the dust.”

“By tending to, do you mean eat…”

“No matter,” she said nonchalantly, eyes still transfixed on the reflection of her human self. Her fingers teased their way through her hair and she let out a puff of breath from her slightly open mouth.

“You know Agares, I think that I actually prefer this body to my real one,” she said to his utter surprise, a hand rolling all the way up from her ankle to her inner thigh. “I think that her name was Betty, before I took up residence. Betty’s legs are so smooth, far less hairy than my - ”

“Onoskelis!” he cut in with a fearful tremble. “If any of the Knights were to hear you speak in this manner about such things!”

“You forget your place Agares!” she snapped back, walking over to the window. Placing a hand in the windowless arch, she watched as her winged horse, a grand symbol of stature in the old times, took a shit in the middle of the cemetery.

It had once been a graceful and pure Horse of Eden, from that very garden of the same name. After the fall, all manner of creatures that resided there either died or were stolen away, as this one was by the demon Bael and later given to Eligos, commander of demonic forces on Earth. Its coat, once as white as freshly fallen snow, had been transformed into soot. The demon’s malice further corrupted it, transforming it into the winged terror that roamed about outside.

“I've nothing to worry about, now that fool Eligos is gone and we’ve obliterated the last traces of his die hard followers,” she said to Agares. “Wouldn’t you agree that things are far better now with me in charge?”

Agares began to nod but any words hung back. Indeed, Keli had managed to wrestle power away from one of the mightiest Knights of all time, but traces of her inexperience were everywhere and the coup was messy and ill-planned, nearly failing at the last moment.

On the other hand, Eligos was an incredibly respected demon with a great deal of knowledge about warfare from all sides: planning, strategy, foresight and tactics being amongst his highest aptitudes. Agares believe he would have been supreme asset in the times ahead, his charisma and charm able to woo even the most devout naysayer.

But all those hopes and prospects died when he did and they were left with a she-goat claiming his steed as her prize, along with command over all demonic forces upon the Earth.

He realized his pause was on the cusp of being too long. “Indeed Onoskelis,” he finally agreed, “things are vastly improved.”

She grunted, taking no note of his compliment or praise. “How many times have I told you to address me as Keli? Why is this such a hard thing for everyone to do?”

“Your Grace,” Agares continued, “Keli, no offense is intended but you must understand that the other Knights… they are always watching and listening with their spies. Do not underestimate them.”

“Yes, yes, fine.”

Agares now needed to discuss with her a topic he knew would send her over the edge. Walking casually toward the door, he paused and turned to face her. “There have been some reports, whispers on the proverbial winds so to speak, that there is someone that may be looking to supplant you. The demon Dajjal has been…”

Her eyes flashed back into demonic form. “Don't you dare speak his name in my presence again!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, a vein throbbing across her forehead. “Otherwise I will make sure you're on the quickest flight back into the fire.”

Your time will come, disrespectful she-goat, Agares thought while bowing his head respectfully in turn, taking her outburst as confirmation that it was time to leave.

“Yes, of course Your Grace, my sincerest apologies,” he said as the doors closed, catching one last glimpse of her before they shut loudly.

CHAPTER NINE

HOMEWARD BOUND

THE GMC BARRELED its way down Route 287, the hum of rubber rising above the classic rock pumping through the speakers.

Gage bobbed his head with the beat, tapping the window with his knuckle. Good thing he was a Journeyman, hell anything but a singer; his career would be over long before it ever started.

Adrienne had sat quietly the last few hours listening to the music herself, reflecting on the whirlwind that had overtaken the last couple days. She looked over as he turned up a bottle of water with one hand, letting the liquid fall effortlessly into the corner of his mouth. Not a drop was spilled while he sat with the other arm extended on the steering wheel, slightly flexing.

Thoughts whirled in her head and she had to get some of it out. “Gage,” she said. “Can we talk a for second?”

“Yeah,” he said, belting out the chorus line before reaching over to turn the volume down. “My singing that bad?”

“What? No,” she denied. Well maybe a little.  She exhaled slowly. “No, Gage, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for the argument we had before heading out.”

To her amazement he said two words she never expected. “Me too.”

She examined his face, which now showed hints of being troubled. The Great Wall of Gage was going up brick by brick, but part of him wanted it down, to be far on the outside of it, or have them both tucked safely within its protection.

Leering at the passing mile marker, she just blurted it out. “Is this going to work?”

“Ya mean… us?”

“Yup,” she replied. “Are we rushing into this without really feeling it out?”

He didn’t answer right away, honestly not knowing the answer himself. He had asked himself that question a hundred times on this ride alone.

“Well, it's not like we don’t know each other, Ady,” he finally said.

She nodded.

“You’re right. Over a year we’ve lived with each other, me having to tolerate your ass,” she said with a laugh. “I mean we’ve been fighting vampires, ghouls, werewolves and things I can’t even remember the names of over that time. Shouldn’t that, if anything, bring people closer together instead of tearing them apart? I guess if this was a perfect world like in movies and books that’s how it works. But shit, Gage, the crazy ass real one we live in is so far from perfect.”

He cast a look her way before returning his eyes to the road. “The world may be imperfect darlin’, but there are some perfect things in it.”

She blinked in awe. Where had the real Gage gone? This man’s words managed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, enveloping her very soul. Yet as great as this was, she was still stuck with a foot out in the chill of reality.

“Maybe I just feel undeserving?” she questioned.

“Of what, or who? Me?” he asked.

She didn't answer, afraid of what might be said.

“Doll, you’re far from undeserving,” he responded, sending over a large hand to massage her thigh, “so far from that. Look, I've found your everyday demons are easy to understand: Murder. Death. Kill. Then repeat. It’s what they do and it’s what makes us know what to do. Nice and easy, right? Predictable? Normal folk are a totally different animal, complete with their own inner demons that manage to complicate the simplest of things. Especially mine, Ady, and there are a lot of them.”

Adrienne took her hand and placed it on top of his.

Gage continued, “I’ve been struggling to keep my past life and my current one, with you and with Joey, separated. Hell, I think all JMs do that to some degree as a sort of protection. But, the last two days have had my vastly cool and collected mind twisted in a thousand different directions. Each one of those can be traced back to one thing.” He pointed a thick finger her way, “You.”

She blushed, but really connected with what he was saying. She had been doing the exact same thing these last couple days.

“But I’m willing to try this if you are,” he said without any hesitation. “Our past lives are who we are just as much as the ones we’re living right now. There ain’t no sense in keeping part of us locked away in a box since it all makes us who we are, right?”

Damn, Gage had become a psychologist; a sure sign the world was ending soon. But, she found herself again agreeing with him.

He smirked as the original Gage came back. “I mean, it could all suck… through no fault of my own of course.”

She pinched him hard.

“Ow!” he shouted. “Damn, this girl has a bite on her! Told ya that ya liked that sort of thing.” He shook his head mockingly and tapped her thigh with a fist. “Vamp hunters, I tell ya. Bunch of pain freaks.”

“Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically, “but you've made a compelling case, Mister Crosse. I’m willing to give it a shot. I definitely can’t say there won’t be a few hiccups along the way.”

“No doubt and definitely a ditto here. But we live in a world where nightmares are real.” He turned his palm up and grabbed hers. “They’re gonna take every chance to get in the way of what we have planned.”

Glancing in the rear view mirror, he switched into the fast lane and gunned it as fast as the engine could take them. “Non Omnis Moriar,” he muttered. “I live by my motto: ‘Not all of me shall die’… so bring it bitches.”

Hand in hand, the two fell back into silence as the truck zoomed past Fort Worth. The long drive ahead of them had just gotten a little bit easier.

GAGE DROVE on for the next four hours, zoned out and letting his mind wander.

Adrienne had long passed out with her mouth agape in that sexy ‘I’m about to drool down my neck’ sort of way and a chuckle sprung free as he took in the sight. If his phone hadn’t died again he would have snapped a memento for later use.

You really like her don’t you? said an unwelcome voice from deep inside, barging into his thoughts. He really didn't feel like having this conversation with himself right now, but took on the challenge of quieting himself.

“Yeah I do. There are definite feelings here,” he answered. “We’ve sorted this out, so there’s no need for any doubt.”

Oh, so bringing her along on this reckless mission was the right thing to do?

“Yes it was.”

But you’re putting her in jeopardy by getting closer to her, especially not knowing what you're about to swagger yourself into; you're the walking definition of selfish!

“No, I’m not. She’s in the life too and both of us are already in the crosshairs of God knows how many different creatures and factions. Why not take this opportunity to enjoy the time we have together?”

It’s irresponsible, that’s why! Totally! Love in this life is nothing for us, except for pain.

“And sometimes love is the key that is missing in our lives” he continued to battle, a headache brewing beneath his temples from all of the back and forth.

The voice needed to shut up, as weariness was settling in. Looking at the endless, dark asphalt through squinted eyes was exhausting and the call of sleep lingered over the big man.

They had made it just outside of Amarillo, Texas when Gage pulled off on Exit 76, riding the access road to the first motel off the highway. The minuscule Atomic Inn blazed in full neon glory amidst the lackluster lights of the surrounding services.

A faint drizzle began to fall on the windshield, bathing his view in a kaleidoscope of circular color and cascading drops. When the truck rolled to a stop in front of the manager’s office, he yanked the key from the ignition and just sat for a moment with both eyes firmly shut. The stillness was so inviting, coupled with the slow patter of rain. He could have stayed there all night, but alas the longing for a mattress overruled.

CHAPTER TEN

THE ATOMIC INN

ADRIENNE OPENED an eye as she lazily came to. She seemed to be developing a bit of a habit of waking up at odd times in different rooms with Gage. Of course, he was up and about somewhere, nowhere to be seen.

She sat up to take in the room, which by all appearances was sorely outdated. Its walls were solid wood paneling and the bright furniture sat on a heavily patterned carpet that had to be straight out of the 1970s. The covers that she rested underneath were no exception, the arresting floral pattern powerful enough to send the sanest mind straight to the asylum.

A musty odor clung to the air and the lingering smell of stale cigarettes ingrained in just damn near everything.

Gage emerged naked from the bathroom, washed his hands and set to vigorously brushing his teeth, the striations in his arms and shoulders flexing nonchalantly with each stroke. How could a man make the most mundane things in life so astonishingly sexy?

As he swaggered back and forth, he waved from below and his masculine scent pushed aside the staleness of the room. He must have showered too. Precious gems of moisture clung tightly to him as he leaned over the sink to rinse his mouth, those massive lats catching the overhead light.

“Stay right there,” she said.

He didn’t move.

“God damn, that back of yours. One day I’ll get used to it, but today definitely is not that day.”

He paused, hands on the countertop to let her take in the sights before adding a slow rolling hip pop. From there he raised his arms into a double bicep flex, every muscle embossed in that insanely thick back. Bringing his elbows closer together, she saw muscles she had never noticed before and time just went ahead and stopped. An eternity with that view would not be a bad thing at all.

Gage glanced down, already growing and leaking, desperately wanting to turn around but she was still solidly transfixed on her view. He waited a few more seconds, continuing to rise and then just made his move.

Concentrating as he turned, her eyes dropped as he came into view.

There he stood, reaching full attention and looking surreal as ever. He had never before been this generous and solid. Unquestionably the sight turned him on and a stream of expectation escaped the tip of his head, flowing down along his shaft until a dozen gratifying inches later it dripped onto the floor.

She walked up to him, playfully pulling off her shirt and panties before tossing them aside, coming to rest on her knees. Looking up from below, he towered over her, the monster cutting through the middle of those eight remarkable ridges and crowned by his expansive chest.

“You know what you're doing, darlin’?” he growled with that distinct drawl.

She answers by grasping it with both hands, each unable to close fully around him. With a few long strokes she teased out a few more streams before bringing him to her, his advancing sweetness dancing on her tongue. Her lips went on to caress his head, taking in a few inches with each loving suck. Her tongue flicked underneath each time, sending waves surging up his spine. Those massive arms reached up to grab hold of his hair and before long the mop became a tormented, seductive mess.

Arms falling to the back of her head, he guided her all around his sizeable balls. The sight of that coupled with himself being so full instantly drove him wild and a lush idea leaped into his head; something he hadn’t been able to do before with anyone.

Taking one of his hands, he escorted her head up the shaft towards his throbbing head, bracing himself with the other one before bending over to meet her. With shocking ease he was able to and when there, took himself into his own mouth. There they kissed with himself raging in between, sharing in the now ceaseless flow.

Adrienne started to show her excitement on the carpet, the sheer elation of what was happening becoming too much. She pulled away and looked in his eyes. “Flip me,” she said before clutching at his beard.

Gage didn’t wait, the look in her eyes said that she wanted the B and nothing short of that was going to satisfy her. In an instant she was upside down, cradled in his arms, making quick work of him while he had access to all her goodness.

Her eyes had zero choice but to roll back as his beard met her skin. Though his soft hair exhilarated her hundreds of times with each touch, this was no timid beard ride; this was a rodeo. He dug in with such intensity that she nearly came. She looked down and he filled her view, the carpet passing by underneath until she felt her back against the wall. Once settled, she tried to service him a little more but only managed a single lick before he tore into her again. Each thrust of his tongue sent her closer to heaven.

She shifted herself and at last managed to grip him and went to work, countering each move he made with one of her own.

There against the wall they both battled it out, sliding across and knocking over the lamp on the nightstand, then the nightstand itself. He was pressing her so hard it was a miracle the wall hadn’t dented. She gained the upper hand, his balls beginning to contract in ecstasy.

Snatching her from the jaws of victory, he threw her onto the bed and got on top before she had a chance to recover. His dick filled her mouth and his tongue worked her door. Thrust after thrust from both ends showed her who was boss and soon she found herself vanquished. Pleasure gushed into his waiting mouth while he continued to pump away, before long flipping around to splash himself across her breasts.

He collapsed beside her, himself a wrecked heap. He peered over her way and was amazed by the volume.

“Good thing I pulled it out, eh? You might have drowned.”

She didn’t answer nor did he push her for one; the sounds of heavy panting all they could muster.

They could clean up later.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PANCAKES AT THE CRISPY BISCUIT

LIGHT from the neon wonderland just outside the window filtered in through the cheesy curtains, pouring a pallid mix of colors across the crumpled sheets and towels.

As Adrienne stretched beneath them, she tried to yawn but her jaw twinged. It was sore, but not in an insufferable way; in fact it felt sort of euphoric. After giving it a quick rub, she settled in to try and sleep for a few more precious minutes.

However like clockwork, the bathroom door opened and heavy footsteps approached. She propped herself up and saw his hulking frame come into view, complete with an enticing smirk.

“When nature calls, you listen,” Gage said, leaping into the bed and sending her flying.

Laughing, he quickly caught her and drew her in close. For a moment his smile faded away, replaced with a look of concern. Keeping one hand around her he used the other to prop up his head, staring deep into her eyes.

“You need warning labels,” she said. “Big, bright ones.”

“Oh? You know I can do big. Bright’s not so much my thing,” he said, letting go of her. He snatched one of the pillows, tucking it under his arms. “But I think this should provide enough cushion for the pushin’.”

She didn’t know whether or not to roll her eyes. “You sure about that?”

“Well,” he replied, tossing her a condom. “There’s really only one way to find out, gorgeous.”

THE REAR DOOR slammed after Gage threw their duffle bags in the back of the cab. His stomach grumbled while he watched Adrienne walk with bowed legs into the diner across the street. As she waddled in her black jean shorts and red halter top, he couldn’t help but beam from his own handiwork.

Locking the door and setting the defenses, he made his way over to The Crispy Biscuit himself, noting the bombastic ‘All You Can Keep Down’ sign that clung to the front door as he entered.

Pancake special today? Jackpot!

As he walked in, it was like he stepped through a time portal and transported back in time. The place had a genuine 50s diner vibe, complete with checkered floor, ultra shiny chrome trim, and a colorful jukebox in the corner that rolled out the oldies.

Adrienne was seated at a booth by the windows facing the other services. She had already ordered their drinks by the time he strolled over, collapsing into the bench seat across from her.

“Whatcha going to get?” he asked her without touching the menu cradled between the condiments.

“I’m not too hungry actually. I just need some coffee to fully charge my ass. Maybe some snack things from the gas station over there before we leave.” She pointed out the window to the service station, now bustling with activity.

Gage perked up in his seat, eyebrow rising. “Something up?” he asked.

“No, not really,” she replied. “I’m just a bit… sore. Everywhere. I wonder who made that happen?”

He raised a hand meekly just as the waitress dropped off their drinks; a pot of coffee for Ady and a large glass of ice water for Gage. She was a pretty little thing, young and blonde. Her glossy white name tag read “Audrey”.

“Have you decided on any food this morning?” she asked in an excessively effervescent voice.

Gage widened his eyes so much they nearly fell out. “Well first off Miss Audrey, I will take a mug for some coffee as well. Ya seem to have been drinking a lot of it this morning, am I right? It must be a-freaking-mazing.”

Adrienne sank her face deep into her palms, wishing she could push herself into another dimension.

“No sir!” Audrey pressed on. “Just super duper happy to be here!”

“Well alrighty then!” he said with a large shit eating grin. “Super duper! I will take one of your pancake specials too; the one advertised on the ginormous poster in the door over there.”

“Okie dokie!” She turned to Adrienne. “And for you, ma’am?”

She spread her fingers and looked through them guardedly. “Oh nothing, thanks. I’m fine with just the coffee.”

Audrey cocked her head the side as if that was an unacceptable answer. “Little bit of a headache there?” she whispered.

“What? No…” Adrienne said, dropping her hands to the lacquered tabletop. The silverware bounced with an awkward jangle.

Audrey nodded profusely, scrunching up her face. “It's okay if last night’s libations don’t wanna get to going. I’ll bring you a couple headache powders,” she said, raising her hand up to cover her lips. Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “I keep extras in my purse for just such occasions.” After a friendly wink, her attention fluttered back to Gage. “And those pancakes will be right out!”

“Oh darlin’,” he said as she took off. “Can I also get some bacon, lots of it? Big boy here.”

Audrey nodded and all but skipped her way into the kitchen.

Adrienne shook her head as she disappeared behind the doors, only to look back at Gage with a start. He was staring back at her through the dark lenses of his runed sunglasses. They appeared designer, but faint sigils of sight were etched into the lenses, allowing him to see things the naked eye could not.

She felt like burying her face again but at this point it would only draw more attention their way.

“I saw nothing,” he said disappointed, taking the glasses off and hanging them from his v-neck.

She busted out laughing. “Wait, you expected to see something with those… on her?”

“I swore she could be a kobold since there ain’t no human that chipper. But nope. I guess she shall live another day; lucky for her.”

It was still too early for this stuff. Adrienne snatched her mug off the table and filled it from the pot while shaking her head. She took a large gulp; it was a bit bland but she didn't care at this point since it still managed to awaken that dormant piece of her soul.

Audrey popped back a few minutes later with a cup for Gage and dropped off the largest stack of golden pancakes they had ever seen, along with a mess of greasy bacon spitting happily from the plate.

Gage promptly tore the buttery discs apart with his fingers, pulling them into bite size nuggets.

Nothing surprised Adrienne anymore. Topped up mug in hand, she continued to watch him be an outright heathen, shredding his way through the entire plate of pancakes. Finally, he grabbed up a fork, shoving bacon between those fluffy chunks before slathering it all with syrup.

He popped a piece of the sticky, salty sweetness into his mouth which melted away without the need for chews. “This is too good,” he said with an orgasmic expression on his face.

The taste was divine; so much so he couldn’t help but shovel in more.

“Call me chipmunk,” he said with bloated cheeks.

“A sexy as hell chipmunk,” she replied with a laugh.

“You know it,” he agreed.

During the exchange, a bit of syrup escaped down into the bearded forest, a trace of shininess lingering on the surface.

“Gage, you have something…” Adrienne said, pointing to her chin.

He stared at her blankly as he ate another piece.

“Right there,” she pointed at him directly.

He didn't budge, expression never changing. More food went into his mouth.

Then came the eye roll. “My God, never mind. The way you eat is so messy… kind of like sex with you.”

“Exactly like it,” he said, unruffled. The last of his stack was now consumed. “And you love it. Oh but these pancakes though! I think they may actually be better than sex. I might have even came a little.” He peered down the front of his jeans. “In fact I did, a lot more than last night.”

She leaned back and folded her arms. “Ass!”

He didn’t reply or look at her right away, opting instead to stick a stray bit of bacon between his lips. With it dangling there, he stuck out his tongue before drawing both inside. “You ain’t getting either of those today,” he said, motioning to the waitress. “Another round, my dear!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

FAR FROM HOME

GAGE HAD POLISHED off four stacked plates in the diner before Adrienne suggested they get back on the road.

Hunger satisfied and belly a bit bloated, he stood at the pumps of the Buy-N-Fly topping off the truck while stretching both arms over his head. Apparently his little sex talk back in the diner hadn’t sat well with Adrienne, who'd stormed off to pick up some last minute foodstuffs inside.

Twenty dollars and some change later, he took a deep breath of robust fumes rising from the gas cap and flung the handle back on the pump before strutting his way toward the convenience store doors.

Inside, Adrienne had been standing in a deceptively short line for what seemed like forty years now, an assortment of sweet and savory snacks tucked into each elbow. Gage always managed to keep the truck well supplied with water bottles so there was no need to pick up anything additional to drink; a good thing too since she was out of room on her makeshift shelf.

A squat woman stood behind the counter, her head so close to the surface that it appeared to float. Wearing a deep creased scowl, she moved at a pace that would make a sloth proud. Adrienne convinced herself that she may actually be one, her unflattering hairstyle reminiscent of a sloth she had seen in a zoo many years ago. At least there was only one person ahead of her now, but the sluggish clerk had only just begun the what-should-not-be-so-tedious job of checking the man out.

As Adrienne shifted her weight from one leg to the other in anticipation of a lengthy wait, the smell of cigarettes enveloped her, entangled with acrid wisps of sweat and BO. She repressed a cough as an unwanted gaze fell on the back of her neck amongst other, lower, parts of her body.

Three fetid workers had walked in, grimy and foul from road construction, settling in the line behind her. They had stopped a little too close for comfort.

“Mmm would you look at that,” said the one closest to her in a low voice, his foggy eyes tracing a path up her legs. Weathered and ghoulish, he might as well have been drooling from his dip-filled mouth and by the looks of the dark lines that stained his chin, that had likely already happened a few times earlier in the day.

A younger man shuffled up beside him, dirty blonde and cleaner yet no less unpleasant. “Damn, you right,” he snarled in a voice that did not suit his appearance in the slightest. “Fine piece right there.”

A shudder began to clamber up her spine as she could make out the sounds of prolonged sniffing; thank God she couldn't see what was happening. There should be some kind of disinfectant for airborne stares from scuzzy sources, especially for situations like this. She would definitely buy a crate or two of the stuff, even though she had no idea if it would be remotely enough to dissolve the feeling of disgust that had caked itself all over her.

The last of the three hung back, heavyset in a safety vest that was two sizes too small. Smacking his gum loudly, his mouth was so overstuffed that saliva bubbled up at the corners of his lips, sputtering with each word that he belched. “Betcha that one’s a great ride.”

Grunts of agreement were exchanged between the men, adjusting their gnarly belts as if to try and draw her attention.

As if, she thought, so tempted to turn around to give them a piece of her mind. After thinking it over, she spun around to -

“May I help you?” the cashier cut in.

- take advantage of it being her turn and the slothful clerk being free at last.

“Ah, thanks so much,” said Adrienne, squinting at the clerk’s faded name tag as she dumped items on the counter with relief. “Martha, is it?” she asked as she flexed her elbows a couple of times to get the blood flowing.

The look on Martha’s face remained unchanged. The scowl was obviously permanent; a next level variant of the resting bitch face.

“Well alrighty then,” Adrienne said crassly. “I'll just take these things here and, um, some of those condoms too, the ones in the blue box.”

She pointed to the display behind the register in an attempt to let her newfound admirers know she had an other half, without actually having to look at or talk to them.

“Well, ain’t you a lucky one?” the closest man gruffed, the other two chuckling discordantly.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one,” a familiar voice interrupted. It was Gage as he approached from behind, grabbing Adrienne squarely on the hips and patting her right cheek a couple times. “And the blue box ones are too small for me darlin’. We need those right there in the black box, with the XL remember?” He made sure to put much emphasis on the X and the L.

Turning around, he winked at the men before striding off. They eyeballed him in return, scoffing and whispering amongst themselves as he swaggered by.

As the clerk finally rung up her sale after the longest wait ever to spend sixteen dollars, Adrienne discovered that Gage had gone again.

Ugh, where’s he at now, she thought, stepping away from the counter. It wasn't long before she saw him browsing in a nearby aisle.

“I already have stuff,” she said to him, waving the bags around to grab his attention.

He was having none of it.

“I'm just double checking,” he replied. “Oh! Did you get any cinnamon gum?”

She sighed, her face decidedly neutral. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, we have to curb the potential for dragon breath. Nobody wants that. No, no, we must get some.”

She tried really hard not to roll her eyes again as she trundled over to the assortment of gum and began looking.

Gage continued to browse, eventually finding his way outside of the food aisles. There he spotted a gray flannel shirt on one of the few clothing stands in the store, along with a matching hat. His eyes grew wide. Wahoo! Two jackpots in one day!

He quickly scanned the other racks; they didn’t carry much worth buying, cluttered with way-too-small tee shirts and caps sporting one liners about beard rides, guns, and ‘your girlfriend’.

At last Adrienne found the right gum and looked around again to see where he was. Could he not stand still for a more than a few seconds?

“A lil’ help here,” came a distinct voice from behind.

Adrienne spun to see him with both arms stuck straight up, the unbuttoned shirt straining across his flared back. She shook her head as she walked over, setting down the bags and grabbing hold of the loose ends.

“Stuck are we?”

He was unamused. “No shit, potato head.”

“You have a way of getting clothes stuck on you, don’t you?” she asked sarcastically. “Just as well you don’t own many.”

She attempted to pull and the shirt didn’t move.

Great, this was actually going to be a struggle. As usual, Gage found ways of making life markedly ‘easier’. Undaunted, she tried again and after a few heftier tugs, his back finally gave up its hold and the shirt was on, stretched only slightly. Upon a second glance, perhaps a little… or a lot more than slightly.

“You really should trademark that back,” she joked. “It would go perfectly with the others.”

He smiled. “I’m building up quite the collection of TMs, eh?” He grabbed each side of the shirt and did a twirl, pausing dramatically each quarter turn to accentuate his features. His abs and countless obliques looked exceptionally good with the direct lighting overhead. “Whatcha think?” he asked, head tilted with narrow and seductive eyes peeking through a tuft of hair that flowed over his forehead.

She looked him over, mulling over how utterly ridiculous he looked while also thinking it was without a doubt one of the sexiest things she had ever laid eyes on.

“Well, you model wannabe,” she said. “You’re looking pretty damn lumbersexual. Flannel actually looks hot on you, so if ever this Journeyman thing doesn’t work out you could always dabble in some modeling; get yourself on a romance book cover or two.”

“Ha! Damn right you’d want to read about me. But, I like to think of myself as more metro,” he stated. “However, I really like this shirt and this hat! Makes me look like a grizzly fucker.”

She laughed heartily as he put the cap on over his untamed hair. “That you are, Gage. One grizzly, hung, buff, metrosexual fucker. Jesus, you have to be one of the most confusing men I have ever met.” She stopped him moving for a moment, a major task in its own right, and her hand grazed across the fine hairs on his chest. “And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

They stood for a moment in the middle of the aisles looking at each other, uncaring how awkward looking the scene might appear to others.

The front doors sounded and the all-too-familiar huffs of arrested breathing soon followed, ending the romantic interlude.

A bloodied man shuffled his way into the store and fell into the main counter, splattering red everywhere. He was holding his side, from which his life oozed out of an extensive wound.

“Call 911!” he exclaimed through short breaths. “There’s two huge bears or some shit out there and they’re… eating people!”

Adrienne and Gage faced each other, tenacious expressions flashing across each of their faces.

“Always an adventure!” she said.

He shouted across to the perma-scowl, who was frozen with an upturned nose in front of the bleeding man. “Get that man medical attention and be quick about it!”

She didn't budge.

“Now!” he bellowed. His voice rattled her straight to the core and as if a switch had been flipped, she hustled over to the phone.

Adrienne and Gage rushed out, dropping their bags off beside the entrance before continuing on toward their truck.

The scene outside was sheer pandemonium: a sea of panicked people had arose out of nowhere like some frenzied crop. The two of them had to dodge their way through the mob, the crowd running in any and all directions. Some searched for safe haven in the convenience store or over at the diner, while more were banging hard on the locked doors of the motel, desperately seeking shelter.

Upon closer inspection, Gage noticed that although the rabble was scattered, they were generally moving to the east and away from something, as yet unseen, beyond a line of big rigs parked on the other side of the station.

As they neared their vehicle, terrifying howls blanketed the screaming crowd. The hectic action seemed to stop whilst the sound blasted its way across the frightened masses.

“That doesn’t sound too good,” Gage said.

“Not in the slightest,” said Adrienne nervously. “Recognize it?”

“Sure don't,” said Gage unfortunately.

No sooner than the roars ended and the shrieking of the crowd took over, two monstrous shapes bolted around the foremost K-Whopper. They were slightly larger than Kodiaks, with reptilian skin that glistened in the low slung light and lustrous manes of rust colored feathers that ran down the entire length of their backs. Their heads could pass for large dogs, filled to the brim with salivating canines. They were actually quite beautiful yet absolutely terrifying.

The lead creature was holding something tightly in its jaws, a body by the looks of it, but it was hard to make out with all the commotion. It bit down hard, splitting whatever it was into two pieces that fell off to each side. They continued to rush toward the station, tearing between a couple of cab overs, shredding the metal like paper and shattering glass.

About a hundred feet away, a family of four had taken refuge by the side of their silver minivan, hoping it would shield them from the hungry eyes that were searching for prey.

Adrienne watched helplessly from afar as the parents, themselves quivering in terror, tried to comfort their children's cries which were acting like a lure, drawing the attention and fury of one of the beasts.

“Move!” she shouted vehemently, placing herself at risk of being targeted by either of the monsters. “You have to get away from there!” she cried, but it was to no avail, her voice unable to carry itself over the cacophony in between.

The beast swung its tail at the van, bulldozing its way through the roof, getting stuck halfway across the ragged metal that had peeled away. As it tried to pull free, the wheels resisted like nails on a chalkboard and each powerful tug left thick skid marks imprinted on the concrete.

Likely addled from fear, the family stayed put during the onslaught instead of taking a chance to run for safer cover.

Adrienne shook her head as she stood there dumbfounded.

The creature’s tail came loose with a deafening snap and the van lurched up on two of its wheels before tipping over, crushing the cowering group underneath its unforgiving weight. Her gut wrenched as the creatures didn't even bother rifling through the debris to consume them, instead stomping by as their heavy footfalls cracked the pavement. What a waste of life.

One of the beasts headed straight toward a couple of defenseless bikers over at The Crispy Biscuit, desperately trying to get their Harleys started while the other one took to beating itself against a lifted black Dually that was parked at the motel. Inside, the passengers were screaming like little musical sardines as they were tossed around mercilessly.

Adrienne and Gage finally reached the GMC and he leapt up into the bed, unlocking their magic box of goodies. He tossed her a marked long sword and pistol, grabbing his own MK23 from its holster before removing his now favorite machete and a rune stone before slamming the box closed.

“What the hell are those things!?” shouted Adrienne.

“Bunyip I think. Haven’t seen one in real life though and I might have skipped over a lot of the lore, since Aussie cryptos ain’t normally on this side of the world.”

He donned his sunglasses. Through the lenses he saw their heads were pulsing with intense colors: yellows and reds shifting hues around the sinuses. The corners of his lips fell to a frown and he added begrudgingly, “From the looks of it they’re berserked. Lucky us.”

“Good lord, what are they doing here in Texas of all places?”

“I dunno but they’re definitely a little far from home,” he said, racking the slide. The sound was pure comfort to him. “Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the Noctis or some other faction was behind this.”

“Yup, I agree. So how do we take them down?” she asked eagerly.

“Well,” he started confidently while holding up the gun and machete in turn. “I assume they're gonna be like most of the things we encounter on four legs: hating bullets or the sharp end of a sword.”

Adrienne abandoned all her eagerness in no time flat. “So that's it?” she said with heavy disappointment in her voice, waiting for a bit more detail, like what kind of bullets were useful or if any specific symbols and marks would put them down faster.

As expected, nothing more came from Gage on the matter.

“So… that’s all we have to go on?” she muttered. “Call J.”

“Yeppers!” said Gage with a playful nod as he ran toward the motel, “and phone’s dead again. Ain't this fun?”

“No,” she replied to herself before running after him, “it’s not fun at all.”

The bunyip continued to beat itself against the side of the buckling truck, trying to get at the tenderized morsels inside. It used its claws to pry off the doors as if it were some huge tin can. The passengers had since blacked out and large bloody patches stained the side windows and dashboard vinyl. If they weren’t dead, they were certainly pretty close to it.

Meanwhile, the two men on motorcycles managed to flee the scene in the nick of time, missing the jaws of death coming for them by mere seconds. Instead of chasing after the racing bikes, that bunyip turned its attention to a construction vehicle parked close by and it let out a satisfying puff from its monstrous nostrils.

Standing there, appetizing and at the ready with an arsenal of tools, were the three garish men who had brashly commented about Adrienne’s figure earlier. The heavyset man pushed by his colleagues and slapped a long black wrecking bar across his fatty gloved palm.

“Come on, ya sumbitch!” he yelled.

On command, the mighty beast lunged forward.

Back at the motel, Gage popped a couple of rounds straight into the creature’s legs. They pierced its flesh without issue and it winced in obvious pain, retracting its body from the truck as a thin liquid flowed out from the bullet holes. Now that there was a confirmation that bullets worked against the thing, Gage focused in like a laser, his confidence pegged high.

The monster roared angrily at him as he continued forward unabashed, its tail lashing against the weathered doors, bashing splintered dents into the wood.

“Bad luck, beastie,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out the stone he had previously tucked in there. Drawing it back to ready a throw, he whispered Fila glaciem and then cast it hard at his injured foe.

At the truck, the blocky man swung and missed, tumbling forward and rolling with his weight and the energy of his swing as the bunyip raced by. It had singled out the young blonde man standing in front of it, pacing back and forth a couple times as if to antagonize him before lunging forward with its jaws fully bared.

The man turned his lithe body and the enemy brushed against his stomach, biting into thin air. The force of the bite was palpable. Had it been closer, it might have shaved off hairs along with his shirt with its abrasive skin. Instead, a solid line of thick saliva was painted in a swath across his middle.

Not wasting a second, he used both hands to pull a couple long screwdrivers out from his tool belt. Twirling them amongst his fingers, they glinted in the morning light as he grabbed the handles tightly and drove the shafts into the creature’s passing neck. As they sunk in with a gratifying squelch, he rotated them like joysticks to enlarge the wounds. Brown fluid globbed out of the gaping punctures, accosting him with the smell of rancid chicken. Catching him off guard he gagged, loosening his grip right as the beast jolted, knocking him into the side of the vehicle. Now winded, he grabbed at his aching back while writhing on the pavement, the sharp soreness spreading down to his legs and up into his shoulders.

Stepping forward and latching on with a large claw on the roof of the truck, the creature’s heavy drool pooled in chunky splats around the young man as it hovered over its next meal. A large blob accumulated on its chin before weighing enough to come splashing down on his face, smothering his view.

Back at the motel, the rune stone danced its way through the air, leaving behind faint trails of white dust. It landed at the beast’s feet, spinning before exploding into a dazzling burst of blue. Swirls of frost quickly settled around its body like thickening ropes, encasing its legs, torso and snout in icy bondage before yanking it hard to the ground. Water was forced out of the frigid air into a roiling fog that engulfed the creature.

Adrienne fired her pistol from a distance, her aim true despite the thick vapor. With each shot the beast moaned sorely. Before long she had expended her ammo, holstering the pistol and grabbing the long sword.

Confidently, Gage strode past her and up to the impounded beast, placing a boot on its long muzzle. The frosty coating crackled and popped under his weight.

“Enough death today,” he said coolly and fired, aiming for the space between its eyes.

The bullet went in but the creature did not die. Instead, its eyes locked in his direction and grew devilishly narrow, a low growl rising to rattle the strands that were restraining it.

“Ah shit,” Gage groaned, quickly reaching for serrated steel but not before the filaments shattered and sent him zooming through the air. A short distance later he whacked the inflexible ground along with a hailstorm of numbing shards.

On the ground by the construction vehicle, the blinded young man worked feverishly to wipe away the slimy goo that had coated his face. It was difficult to remove since it was incredibly sticky. After a few seconds, he was able to clear his vision enough to see through a murky sheen. Slopping the smelly gunk off his hands, he saw nothing but a forest of imposing fangs in front of him.

“Mother fucker,” he said, realizing there was nothing he could do. The sharp teeth came down and he dodged it once, then twice. He looked out under the truck and a murky outline of a green dress caught his eye. He opened his mouth as if to call for help but as he did so, teeth came in over his head like a clamp and in one powerful bite it was gone, swallowed whole.

Shouts of rage came from behind and the stocky man struck the distracted beast hard on the side of its face with his wrecking bar while the other man popped it with a solid hit from his sledgehammer. The devastating barrage continued with swipe after brutal strike.

Adrienne turned and slid as the bunyip shook loose its tattered constraints and leapt over her on a frenzied charge toward Gage. She raised the long sword up above her as her soft knees skidded bleeding across the pavement. The sword tip sunk into the creature’s hardened flesh, squelching as it tore through its dank and pungent innards.

With a final cry it collapsed to the ground, skidding to a stop just before those infamous scuffed boots.

Dizzy from the salvo hefty strikes, the last bunyip stumbled into the construction truck then hunched over into the large dent it made in the side. The men walked over to it as it struggled to gain composure, reaching into their reflective vests and pulling out hidden knives. With arms raised in unison, they struck at it with their short stubs of metal and a loud boom ushered out of the wounds, storming through the crowds as if a bomb had gone off.

Gage looked across toward the source of the noise and saw the creature keeling over just after the men stabbed it. He could swear he saw a faint red glow, visible just for a few seconds, but it was hard to make out and could have just been a trick of the morning light. Had he blinked, he would have missed it.

“Ady,” he said softly, “come this way.” He started to walk off briskly, without waiting for a reply.

“Gage?” she asked, concerned at the tone he was using. Realizing that he was not going to answer, she caught her breath and got up off her knees, falling in a few steps behind him. “Gage, what is it? Gage?”

He was making his way directly for the GMC, sure to ignore the men as he walked by. However, Adrienne didn't get the memo and made eye contact with the ghoulish one, noticing the fallen bunyip had large gashes in its side.

The men lowered their blades in disturbing synchrony as they continued to look at the two of them, still slobbering tobacco from chapped lips and churning wads of gum.

“Well, well,” said the large one, the freakish cracking of his voice hinting at something devious. “Lookie who we have here.”

Gage panned across them each in turn and they stared emptily back, not saying a word. Their beady eyes, however, held back secrets which spoke directly to his gut.

“Ady, do you mind going to collect our stuff please?” he asked and the tone of his voice indicated he wasn’t going to accept no as a response.

A little confused, but sensing the tension in the air as tight and uneasy as a plucked guitar string, she walked over to the front of the shop to pick up their bags.

“It’s time to go,” stated Gage. He climbed in and cranked the engine.

She hopped in after him and grabbed her trusty cap from the glove box while Gage pulled out of the gas station onto the service road. She tipped her hat and waved briefly as they drove away.

“Well, not to stereotype,” she said to Gage as she rolled down her window, resting an arm on the edge, “but they fought pretty good for creepy hayseeds.”

He stayed focused on the road ahead. “Yeah,” he replied faintly, “too good.”

As the GMC returned to the highway and shrank away on the distant horizon, Amarillo police and emergency services began to flood the scene.

The two workers watched Gage and Adrienne’s vehicle disappear and turned their attention back to the beast they had slain. They were joined by a middle aged woman, her vibrant green dress made dingy with stains of blood and chunks of gore.

All of their eyes were now black as night and rimmed with crimson.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HELL KNIGHTS DIVIDED

THE SANITARIUM’S command center was jammed in an old cafeteria on the ground floor of the building, gutted of all traces of its previous life except for the aroma of French fries and peanut oil that forever drenched the walls. It normally bustled with activity, but this afternoon was different. The buzz had increased ten fold after six fateful words came across channels from Amarillo: Gage Crosse was on the move.

In the three years since he had blazed onto the scene and into the chronicles as one of the most successful slayers in history, many a demon both lesser and great had come to respect and fear his name. How ironic it was that they no longer feared the cross, long the bane of their existence, but would now cower at the mere mention of Crosse.

Fueled by the electricity that permeated the air, they all moved to and fro with purpose, like a well oiled machine. Their hosts and associated attire looked to have been plucked right out of a high level corporate office in London and plopped right in against the decrepit innards of the long abandoned institution.

A few sat at neat little ergonomic desks lining the walls to both the left and right of the entrance arch, typing away on their glossy keyboards in front of state of the art computers. Others stood at tall wood tables distributed between the rows of desks, their gnarled tops spilling over with a wide variety of exotic ingredients. Some were pleasing to the eye, others delicious, as evidenced by a demon stealing strawberries off the table next to his station when nobody was looking. A few were downright disgusting and appropriately demonic, like the murky jar containing the brains of feral mice floating in a vinegary stock made from the full skeletons of fairies.

Yet more demons milled busily like bees in between the desks and tables, heading in and out of the run down chamber. However, all the hustle slowed to a crawl when three large shapes appeared at the entryway, following close behind Keli and Agares. Their mere presence sapped the room of its energy and the rabble made sure to clear out of the central pathway as they walked in.

Keli had donned another outfit, smoothing out the lines in her one piece of tight, form fitting leather. A deep cut plunged down the front, over her breasts and past her belly button. Its outer edges were trimmed with small black feathers, ruffling ever so slightly with each deliberate and slow step. Hardly an outfit that screamed leadership, many whispers began to fly like notes passed around a classroom when she sashayed by. It was the general consensus that one in her position should be wearing attire that garnered respect, instilled fear, or some combination thereof, instead of percolating mere lust like a majority of hers did. That said, it was pretty apparent that she gave no fucks about it. To her any sin, especially one of the seven, was something to be celebrated.

The same could not be said for Baal, one of the greatest of the seven Hell Knights who were once proud kings under Lucifer's grand rule. Time and again, he made sure plenty knew of his grievances, but those concerns and complaints were often overruled by the voices of Knights Paimon and Astaroth, who found themselves siding with her many times more than him these days.

Baal had fallen back, passively defiant, positioning himself the furthest away from Keli at the rear of the small entourage. He looked up at both Paimon and Astaroth while shaking his head subtly.

They were bookending her like some whoreific grimoire, likely mumbling ass-kissing rhetoric in each ear to see who could receive the most brown nosing credit. It was a term he coined and was particularly proud of, one most fitting for his views on their relationship.

Baal continued unabashedly behind them and was not dressed, unlike the other two, in suits, business casual, or pathetic human attire. He was traditional, his large body clad with elaborate plate armor that was forged in the deepest pits of Hell and used during the great war in Heaven ages ago.

The armor was obsidian, its close fitting helmet filigreed with traces of cold silver. His fiery eyes peered out from the slits, made more menacing by two spires that rose up on either side like horns. His large torso was covered by a full cuirass and etched in the center of it was his ornate sigil, glowing bright and orange like molten rock. The remainder of the armor was equally as robust, traces of magma lining the dark suit’s menacing spikes and sweeping curves.

His presence managed to do what Keli’s could not: exude fear-inducing intimidation upon those around him. Demons nearby shaded their eyes and turned away as he thundered by. When he opened his mouth to speak, his hoarse voice came forth from beneath the helm and caused those around him to tremble. What he said, he did so openly and without care.

“Onoskelis…” he began, hating the humanization of her name, “I have been asking you since being called forth to this dump: what is the purpose of this meeting? We have too many important things going on right now and your trivial distractions are only serving to cause major delays.”

She continued to walk as if she hadn't heard a thing. The riff between the two of them was had been building for some time, but was about to reach a head, threatening to burst like some great throbbing boil.

Her blatant disregard of him caused anger to flare in his gut. “Listen here, I -”

“We are almost to the circle,” cut in the tall man to her left, his tailored blue suit clinging well to his body as he stretched and ran a hand through his crest of red hair. He turned slightly so he could see Baal out of the corner of his dark eye and then continued.  “Respectfully, Baal, silence yourself until then.”

“I was not talking to you, Astaroth,” Baal stated, waving a gauntlet dismissively his way. “I know traditions, something this bitch could use a major lesson in, and I do not need anyone's permission to speak. I can see now that the Prince of Inquisitions has been reduced to a mere lap dog, as if parading around wearing a soulless ginger weren't enough.”

“Stop it, the both of you! No wonder a congregation hasn't been called in years. You should know better than to bicker in front of the lessers!” the other man snapped, his blood red suit and jet black hair standing out from the drab blacks and grays of the other demons about which he spoke. “Be silent until we -”

“Reach the damn circle, yes Paimon,” Baal interrupted while shaking his head, pinching his fingers together mockingly as if they were speaking his words. He then pointed it ahead. “Ah, it seems at last we have arrived, so I bid the two of you to shut the fuck up.”

“Always the instigator!” Astaroth popped off, turning to face him with fists balled up and sparking. He was not intimidated in the slightest by the dark armor in front of him, so similar to what he had also worn during the war. “For one that touts the old ways so frequently, how quick you are to forego the very foundations of our beliefs. The hierarchy is everything!”

Agares crossed the threshold first into the celebrated circle, actually a line of dried blood that outlined a semi-circular area where the cafeteria’s kitchens once were. It was about twenty feet in diameter, its primary purpose to serve as a place of council and debate amongst the great demons. The size and shape of this one paled vastly in comparison to the ones of old that surrounded entire temples. Keli and her two yes-men took up in the rough center as Baal followed, last to enter.

He thrust a metal arm out to his side expectantly and suddenly, a large sword appeared in his hand out of thin air; its blade like ruby and its skull-adorned hilt of black diamond. Twisting in his hand like a key, smoke rose up from the line, wrapping around the five of them like an opaque shield. From the inside, they could see out at the inquisitive faces in the room, but to an outside observer all sights and sounds could not escape past the swirling barrier.

“Now may I speak?” Baal asked sarcastically, shoving the blade into the cracked floor. It singed back at its master as if to grant him permission.

“Baal, you must learn to control yourself! We are already having enough trouble keeping the lessers in line,” said Paimon, “and certainly do not need to stoke the fires of their protests. We would be much further along in our plans if we had a more… obedient workforce. Operations around the Great Lakes alone could be doubled if we didn’t have constant bickering amongst the staff.”

“Workforce?” Baal scoffed at the notion. “That Paimon, is one of our greatest problems right there: they are not workers; they are slaves meant to serve us. Back to the hierarchy you all are so quick to tout, there shouldn't even be a need to reference performance or output or the numbers that you cling so desperately to like haggard maids.”

Astaroth shifted his weight from leg to leg, back and forth to stem his temptation to silence Baal. He knew damn well he could not do a thing about it; at least not yet. Even a pop to the chin would be difficult with that helmet on.

“You speak to me as if this budding insurrection is my fault,” Baal continued as Astaroth dipped his head and turned away, “yet I am not the one bringing in new age ideas and corrupting the older, purer ways.” He directed his gaze over to Keli, who had remained silent while her dogs attacked. “Need I remind all of you that I am the only one appropriately dressed for this occasion?”

The two Knights couldn't dodge that fact but Astaroth had reached his fill of Baal’s arrogance and started to retort, “To deny change is to invite one's own -”

Keli spoke at last, “No need to bother, Astaroth. Baal is closed minded. Ancient.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Baal asked, clearly not offended. “I'm not surprised to hear such things from a lesser that is wearing shoes that are far too big for her own hooves”.

Back and forth more insults were exchanged; heavy, powerful and hurtful.

“In Lucifer's name enough!” shouted Agares over the noise, having had enough. His outburst managed to silence them all but quickly he shrank back to normal, realizing all eyes were now on him. “My…  apologies,” he muttered, bowing his head low.

“No need to apologize, Duke Agares. You're right of course,” Paimon said reassuringly, noting that Baal and Astaroth were continuing to eye each other up. “You two, save the cat fighting for later and if you must, you can whip out our vessel’s dicks then to measure who is bigger. Keli, Your Grace, please… why have you called us here?”

Moving to the side so she could address everyone in front of her, she began. “As we’ve wasted precious time, I’ll cut straight to the point. I think it is time we began implementing Infernal Tide.”

All three knights were wide eyed. That was certainly an end goal of theirs, but to suggest starting its operation now while a majority of preparations hadn’t even begun was a bit surprising.

“What brings you to this decision?” Paimon asked apprehensively.

“This would be quite the large undertaking,” Astaroth followed, taking Paimon’s tone of voice as his own.

“No, Astaroth, this would be quite the stupid undertaking at this stage,” Baal said with absolutely no filter.

“I didn’t say we would be finishing it by tomorrow,” said an embittered Keli. “I merely stated that I think it's time to begin implementing it. Why, you ask? Gage Crosse appears to be heading west…”

Those words were enough to renew Paimon’s interest and Astaroth nodded as well, but Baal was still being his stubborn self.

“You do realize where he is likely heading, don't you?” Paimon said. “One of the Solo -”

“Of course I do,” he interjected. “I’m not ignorant of the facts, but my point is, we shouldn't be leaping right into the final plan. These things take time, patience and skill. There are several hurdles to overcome first in order to ensure such a colossal plan flows without issue. With the rabble now protesting the way they are, do you really think things will go smoothly for us and that we can afford such things? We must bring order to that mess first. My stance is to focus on freeing the other four Knights from their prisons and using them to oversee operations before we tread too far down this path.”

Keli exhaled. “There just isn't time for all of that.”

Baal ended up laughing at her. “We're immortal, girl! There is all the time in the world.”

“If we are right, Gage will arrive at his home later today,” she said, “and should he get his hands on it, our problems will multiply. What would you have us do then?”

“Why are we bowing to the whims of this mortal?” questioned Baal, who could not fathom the power this one stupid mortal had over all of demonkind. “Are we so crippled now that a bag of watery meat holds that much sway over us? He should be killed. Now.”

Paimon rubbed his forehead. One of the problems with human hosts was that the demons were subject to their ailments and a massive migraine had started to build in his head. “What do you think we have been trying to do for the past three years, invite him over for brunch?”

The mood was fast becoming rocky and Agares wouldn't be interjecting this time. He slinked behind Keli as Baal continued to assert himself over the others, who continued to side with her in turn.

“We would be far better off if Dajjal were here,” Baal finally proclaimed.

Keli's eyes burst into flames at the mere mention of that demon. “Absolutely not!”

Paimon stepped between the two of them and his expression was gravely serious. He addressed Baal directly. “You cannot think the Deceiver would care about any of us if he were above ground?”

“Yes, I do think that,” Baal affirmed. “He would be doing a damn sight better than this debacle we called an operation. ‘The Night’ we call ourselves, yet we act as though we are blinded by the dark, instead of using it to our advantage. Dajjal would keep Hell first and foremost.”

“I have had enough!” Keli shouted, overwhelmed by her hatred of Dajjal and Baal’s support of him. “What is your problem with me, Baal?”

“Have you not been listening, lesser? Oh, where shall I begin?” he mocked. “You are playing a very dangerous game, miss, and you best realize this before you end up… getting hurt.”

“Your Graces,” Agares finally cut in with a hushed breath, “the masses can be updated later on our plans. You both should go and calm yourselves so we can discuss matters with level heads.” His eyes raised slyly and they met with Baal’s, ending their journey with a wink.

“I've grown tired of this,” the armored demon expressed. “We are obviously done here. Call me when there is need for a real Hell Knight.”

Grasping the handle of the embedded sword, he yanked it out of the floor and turned it again in hand. In an instant he vanished, the smoke around them burning itself away to leave the four of them exposed to the gawking control room.

“Don't you all have work to do?” Keli asked as she stormed out of the room, all eyes on her for all the wrong reasons.

THE MUSIC WAS NARCOTIC, its deep base spilling out well above the evening streets. Inside Club AfterNight, sat atop one of the tallest buildings in Shoreditch, the wild beats coursed through the veins of everyone on the dance floor and lining the bar.

In one of the private suites attached to the club, available for high paying clientele to use for whatever purposes they saw fit, two bodies writhed under silken sheets in the cool blue hues cast by the dim floral lamps overhead.

Their moans were muffled by the ongoing dance music, bodies rising and falling with the beat until one of them sat upright. The shimmering covers fell away from her nude body and there she continued to grind on him, taking pleasure from the thickness filling her and ensuring he felt the same way.

He was gorgeous, as if a fashion billboard had mated with a fitness magazine. Piercing blue eyes looked back up at her own and his short cropped hair was so neat and trim, with nary a stray hair in sight despite the rough action.

Feelings upon ecstatic feelings were mounting; his abs began to tense, veins spidering their way across them as his back arched. As he grabbed her hips, his arms were swollen with veins and he guided her where and at the pace he wanted with those massive biceps.

Faster he went and faster she took it, taking his bare skin all the way to the base.

“I… I'm about to…” he said, deep voice still a tremendous turn on despite the stutters.

And then he did, filling her with himself as it spilled out onto his balls with satisfaction.

Satiated, she rose, his still huge dick flopping over to one side, glistening with their emissions.

“Thank you,” she said walking over to the nightstand and opening the topmost drawer. A flicker of light danced across her eyes.

“That felt amazing,” he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. His member dangled invitingly between his legs, twitching and growing as the blood started to flow back into it for another round. “Want to go again? I'm sorry I didn't catch your name earlier.”

“Oh that's fine, it's Keli,” she said meekly, straddling him once again and giving his large pecs a rub with her left hand.

“That's a pretty name, Keli,” he said with such boyish charm. Pity.

“I'm so sorry, Chris,” she said with a hint of remorse, “but round two will have to wait; I have a call to make.”

“Right now?” he asked, slightly puzzled.

She nodded and with a quick strike, she cut his throat.

Desperately he grabbed at it while falling forward to the decorative carpet, a massive red stain growing out from his lifeless body.

She looked down to the damp floor, letting out a sigh as she stepped into the warm liquid. The wet fibers squished between her bare toes and as many times as she'd done it before, she couldn’t get over how medieval this method of communication was. She would often joke with herself that she could rest assured knowing it would always be cheaper than cell phone bills.

“Spiritum meum, victor erit, in malign positus, loquar!” The words she spoke knocked loose the abstract art from the walls. Her eyes grew darker and her voice deepened as if calling from the very pits of hell as she cast it out to the demonic legions that were spread across the planet and beyond.

Raising her arms out to the side as if standing on a high precipice in front of thousands, she looked out the expanse of windows over the twinkling lights of London and spoke,  “This is…  Onoskelis and I address you all now with a message and a mission. You have done your part to get us to where we stand today – from a loose and ragged rabble into a primed and well oiled machine. As components needed to be replaced, we eliminated the old and brought in the new. Now look at us: nearly unstoppable by our sheer will alone.

“The Journeymen are now fearful, frightened that they may have overlooked this pathetic little assembly of demons and what we are capable of; that they no longer have the power they held in the days of old.”

She spat on the floor. “The arrogance and pride of these humans, newest to the worlds but the most wanton.”

Raising her voice, the speech continued, “They may be onto our plans, but that will not stop us. What they know is limited and fragmented and it must remain that way at any cost. In response to the Order’s increased interest in our affairs, I shall be sending a small contingent to Bennett Peak for closer… involvement in things there. Perhaps we can show the Journeymen how demons take to being underestimated.

“All of you take heed of my words, now: they cannot stop the oncoming tide poised to rush over this earth, suffocating all who oppose us. This world is ours for the taking; time of demon kind has come!”

With that her speech concluded, the last words echoing across the globe, soaring on the wings of cacophonous cheers. The world was about to change.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HOME SWEET HOME

THE SUN HAD CRESTED its highest point of the day and was well on its return journey back to the horizon. Flocks of starlings whirled overhead, twisting and turning like living clouds playfully riding currents in the sky. It was all a gorgeous spectacle: the orange sunlight, the dance-like movements, the flow of air past the open window. All worked in beautiful consensus, holding Adrienne’s attention as they entered the outskirts of Denver.

Not long after they left the highway in lieu of more sweeping country roads, the sight of whooshing gray that had become all too familiar was slowly replaced with nature’s own greens and browns. Stubby hills of grass rolled gently out to the north toward the city’s skyscrapers and also to the west before rising sharply into the mountains. Green shrubbery and equally tall boulders mingled with the sprinkles of far off lights that began popping in against the darkening landscape. To the south, a thick row of bushes streamed by and blocked the view, but through fleeting gaps in the branches a similar sight extended out into the vast open country.

However, the scenery wasn’t the only thing changing with the diminishing roads. There was a notable shift in Gage’s demeanor, his expression now a disproportionate mix of happiness and consternation.

The truck swerved along the now dirt paths as he looked ahead, keenly scouting the right hand side for familiar sights. After a good stretch of nothing, they rounded a corner and a rusty mailbox with the number sixty-four perched on top came into view. Barely clinging onto its oxidized sides were a line of stickers spelling out the faded name ‘Crosse’ in block letters and adjacent to the mailbox stood five jagged poles moving up the property's gravel driveway, each affixed with diamond shaped reflectors.

“We’re here,” he told Adrienne as he steered the truck over to the right.

Ahead, the path disappeared into a thick line of pines and the loose stones beneath them sputtered and clinked on the chassis. The trees bobbed in step with their heads as they went by, the bumpy ride made more so by the not-so-high quality shocks of the GMC.

All this churning reminded Gage of the day he had driven off in the opposite direction, much faster and full of rage like a bat out of hell. Heading back this way, along this very road, was something he had not expected to do for a long time, if ever again.

The two of them sat silently, nothing to say or do at the moment except take in the surroundings as the drive dove, snaked, and dipped through the rest of the encircling trees until finally it emptied them out into a wide open field.

Out in the rough middle of the grassy tract sat a large, two story plantation house, its symmetrical and weather-beaten facade adorned with light brick and cream clapboard siding. Porches ran along the entire front of both floors, their simple off-white railings spaced evenly between six substantial, square columns that supported the entire thing. Between each set of pillars, tall floor to ceiling windows were evenly distributed to let in the most of the south-facing light and on the lower floor, a simple staircase drew up in the middle allowing access to the front door.

The house was surrounded by oak trees, peppered with the colors of autumn, larger than any Adrienne had ever seen. A traditional white picket fence wrapped neatly around the property, enclosing the main house and two smaller buildings, one on each side, in a quaint box of rustic bliss.

As they neared, Adrienne spotted a rose garden within the fence line which brought a much needed smile to her face. It started neatly along the front beds and extended casually in sweeping red and pink curves off into the backyard. Surprisingly, the untended flowers were still majestically in bloom.

Beyond the petals, a couple of metal gates were closed and locked amongst a broad area of wire fencing that had once contained livestock. A dilapidated barn, smaller than a matchbox from where they were, peeked out in the distance.

Gage looked over into the fields, immediately recalling the squishiness of cold mud percolating up between his mischievous six-year-old toes, his rubber boots lost on purpose somewhere between there and his bedroom. A concealed chuckle escaped as he remembered one particular day when his mother was chasing after him through the pasture, gardens, and even around the entire first floor of the house, those tiny boots flapping in her hand hand while his equally tiny feet left footprints everywhere behind them. His mom was quite bothered by the end of that day; she discovered the mud he had be playing with was not so much muddy as it was fertile.

So indeed, the place where Gage had grown up could have been on the cover of any country living magazine, radiating feelings of coziness and well-being out of every wooden board and stone brick, despite the years devoid of any personal care and attention.

The truck slowed and came to rest in a circle of gravel a couple hundred feet from the porch and wearily, both passengers popped their doors open at the same time.

As Gage stepped out and took everything in without the barrier of metal and glass in between, it was quite emotionally overwhelming. Unsure if it was the freshness of the breeze at this altitude, the smells it had blown his way from the garden, or some combination thereof,  his eyes had gotten misty.

“Welcome home,” he said openly in low tones before drifting back into the comfort of quiet; it was going to take him a few minutes to compose.

Adrienne had been propped up on her door when she heard him speak. Concerned by his odd behavior, she left it open and worked her way around to his side, finding a space between his arm and locking her own into it once she got there. Nestling her head against his mammoth shoulder, always so soft yet inherently strong, she looked around while he continued to stare out across the garden.

For all intents and purposes everything was picture perfect, until a dark red symbol on the front door caught her eye. Unnoticed until now, its color nearly matched the door’s, making it practically invisible from afar unless viewed at a the right angle where it reflected a dim sheen. The design was odd as well, one she was unfamiliar with: a large circle enclosed three interlocking triangles and in the middle of the arrangement was the outline of a hand, an open eye resting on the tips of its closed fingers.

“Gage?” she asked timidly, careful not to startle him out of his thoughts. “What is that?”

“Huh?” he replied lazily as she guided him across with her finger, pointing it toward the door. He winced. “Hell,” he answered, “I can’t remember.”

Being here was definitely having an effect on him. Normally witty if not the slightest bit facetious, Adrienne could actually sense his internal struggle like heat off a stovetop; he just seemed lost.

“Think we should take a closer look?” she asked as a nicety, planning to investigate it herself should he drift off again.

He didn't answer right away, instead continuing to stare at the symbol questioningly, as if it were alive and knew damn well what it was, but wasn’t telling.

“Sure thing,” he replied, gradually settling back into his normal skin, “but before we do that why don’t you leave that cap in the truck and get a little more comfortable?” He popped his finger playfully on the brim. “I’d love to see that gorgeous hair of yours.”

She grinned, immediately obliging by tossing the cap through his open door. It spun and landed right in the center of her seat. “Is that better?”

Gage nodded as he ran his fingers through her flowing locks. “Oh yes.”

Shutting the doors, together they walked up the path and through the gate, thirsty for oil. Adrienne took that as a signal to slow down before falling back to arm's length as they neared the porch. She watched him take a slow, hypnotic step up, his right cheek popping her way. Another teasing step followed and the left one flexed gracefully over to the other side.

Mercy.

She decided then and there that this was far too unhealthy a thing to be doing, light headedness seriously setting in, but she managed to convince herself that a couple more seconds, or possibly minutes, of watching beauty pitching itself from side to side wouldn't hurt.

Damn the only thing that would make this moment even better is a roll of quarters.

Gage, unaware his tight end was the topic of so much dedicated thought, reached the decking and stepped off delicately, as if a gentler tread would help avoid a rush of memory. To either side of him sat decorative wicker furniture he had once played on and daydreamed the days away, their once ornate weaves now caked with mildew and the low cushions slowly rotted by the elements. He walked up to the front door and saw withered topiaries on either side planted in those long lost childhood boots.

Cautiously, his hand reached out and fingers wrapped themselves around the handle. Half expecting it to spontaneously combust or set off some kind of deadly spike trap, relief won him over when nothing happened.

He then attempted to physically open the door to no avail, as it was sealed up tight by a magical force that resisted all attempts at turning the handle or pushing and pulling at the stubborn lumber. Even a couple of robust kicks in the middle didn’t budge it nor smudge the paint.

The earlier relief changed into frustration and he stomped over to the windows on the left, banging them like a madman trying to get inside. A similar force continued to keep him shut out; the glass could not be opened or broken.

Grumbling, he cupped his hands to the glass and pressed his face firmly against them to look inside for any clues. As luck would have it, the heavy curtains had been shut so he couldn’t make out much detail. However, he confirmed that the power was still out through the narrow gaps in the panels, the generators having been switched off when he left.

Pretty defeated, he trundled with hunched shoulders back over to the ward and stared at it while it stared back at him. Making a fist, he wanted to pop that smug, unblinking eye so hard. His blood pressure rose and he began to tremble.

Ok Gage, calm down big guy. There’s absolutely no rush to get inside, so breathe.

Following his own advice, he inhaled sharply and took in a lung full of air, holding it in for a moment with his chest heaved before releasing it slowly through his pursed lips.

Now, let's approach this logically.

Obviously this was an entry ward of some kind, similar in construction to the Hamsa but slightly rearranged. Gage postulated that it would be keyed to his handprint or fingerprints so with that in mind, he aligned his hand precisely with the symbol and pressed hard against it.

Nothing happened.

He tried a couple more times for good measure and…

Nothing happened still.

The eye must then play an integral role in the spell. So bending over, he held one of his green eyes open just inches away from the mark as if it were a high tech retinal scanner. He then tried the other one before repeating each open eye in turn with his hand again pressed on the door.

It was quite the spectacle and crowning all these amazing efforts: a big, whopping nothing.

This was getting old. He had to have been in quite a state of mind, or completely out of it, when he placed this thing. The latter mood was speedily resurfacing with each passing failure.

Adrienne appeared behind him before he managed to start any more obnoxious contortions and her touch calmed him right down like a sedative.

“Any luck?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Sorry, this noggin’ is drawing a total blank at the moment,” he admitted.

“It’s all good, Gage,” she reassured him, “it can wait. At least we’re here now and it’s starting to get a little dark.”

He pulled away and turned, waltzing over to the railings where he placed both arms and looked out to the right as the sun dipped below the far off tree line. She was right, night was fast approaching and they needed somewhere to rest up. His eyes drifted over to the small building attached to the house by a narrow, covered walkway and he got an idea.

“Looks like we may be sleeping out here for the night,” he revealed.

Her face was full of excitement at the prospect, but that quickly fell to apprehension as the quality of the available porch accommodations sank in. They were less than one star, possibly even zero: equivalent to the amount of fucks the elements had given while laying assault to the furniture on a daily basis.

“Um, hopefully we won't be chatting with the sandman on these things,” she said, poking the wicker sporadically; it caved in at the slightest amount of pressure.

“Nah, darlin’,” he replied with a devilish smirk, “I have somethin’ far better in mind for us.”

He turned back and looked to the truck. In the golden hues of the hour, she looked almost as inviting as a warm, cozy bed. Almost.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A NIGHT FULL OF STARS

GAGE WASN'T sure that Adrienne was fully sold on the whole truck camping idea, but it was one of their only options other than sleeping on rotten cushions set atop moldy chairs. She'd soon change her mind after she saw what a Gage-styled camping session was all about. He thought on that for a moment, the first thing popping into his head being one of those infamous eye rolls of hers and he convinced himself that the gesture must be avoided at all costs.

Now a man on a mission, he walked confidently over toward the building he spotted earlier. It was a utility area his mother had built primarily for crafts, but his folks had also converted part of it into a large laundry room. He continued to walk along the covered path, looking to his right. There, three long clotheslines extended out from the side of the building and off into the back yard, each dancing its own carefree shuffle in the wind.

When he reached the door, he heavily scrutinized every square inch of it. Nary a ward or fleck of misplaced paint was in sight, so he attempted to open it, secretly praying his efforts wouldn’t be stopped before they even started. To his delight, the handle moved and the door was open.

The first thing to hit him when he entered was the fragrance of crisp sheets, baby powder, and lavender mixed with bergamot. Dulled by the years, the freshness of it all was still surprisingly potent.

The smells triggered more memories and he could almost feel his mother in the room: crocheting elaborate table coverings and doilies, making multi-tiered macramé plant hangers, customizing Christmas stockings with chunky characters and sequins, and simply repairing the brand new clothes Gage had managed to rip up within a few minutes of putting on. Some of these projects were finished long ago and some, sadly, never would be.

Gage proceeded to open the closest set of cabinets on the left as he went in, but found them empty. The ones situated beneath those were full, but with sewing tools and a surplus of different colored yarns. Helpful at one time, they weren’t useful at all now, so he moved his way along the line of cabinets and drawers, finding more fabrics and threads tucked away inside. A huge plastic bin squatted at the end, overflowing with various toys from a childhood long past.

He stopped, grabbing two of the topmost stuffed animals – which happened to be his favorites – and held them up to the inviting light streaming in from a nearby window. The first one was a dog that resembled Snoopy, but he was taller and wearing a tiny bomber jacket. Looking around, he couldn't find his matching leather helmet and goggles, so assumed they had fallen to the bottom of the pile if they hadn’t been lost to time.

The other one was a palm-sized parrot with a large beak, bright green and yellow, mere threads where the orange zig zags for feet used to be. Gage supposed that Duffy, their family Shih-Tzu and his best friend growing up, must've got a hankering for them back in the day and tore them off while playing.

As much as he liked going down memory lane, there were still plenty of things to do and there would be more time for this later on. Propping both toys up on a nearby shelf next to a cowbell, he continued on his trek for bedding. Part of him began to hope this wouldn't turn out to be a bust, because had already vowed that no eye rolls were allowed in this man’s future.

He didn’t have to fear too much longer, as he finally found himself in the right area. Opening a couple of matching mahogany armoires that had been shoved in the corner, stacks of downy comforters, wooly blankets and soft sheets gleamed inside like some long lost treasure. Using his arms like great big hooks, he fished out what he could and placed them all on top of the washing machine to sort through.

The sounds of Don’t Fear the Reaper cut through the peace.

Normally he wouldn't think twice about it, but that was before all the weirdness of the past few days. Glancing down suspiciously at his phone, his look of trepidation soon melted away into a smile.

It was Joey.

Pressing the answer button, he answered promptly, “What up my man? I think I have enough charge for quick chat. This damn thing keeps dying no matter how much I keep it charged.”

Joey responded heartily. “Yeah well, when you get back here we are definitely heading straight to the store and buying you a new one. First damn thing we do.”

“Haha, sure thing boss. So what’s going on?” Gage asked over the considerable rustling of paper, followed by the sound of many things crashing onto the hardwood floor. “Um, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey snipped. “Damn desk organizer fell and made a mess. Trust me, it sucks to always be so full of irony, I’ll get it up later. Nah, I called to give you a bit of an update on the situ now that you made it home…” his voice trailed off momentarily, “I assume you’ve made home, right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are here and surprisingly we made it in one piece.”

Gage made himself comfortable on the edge of the large laundry sink, propping himself up with his sleeved arm. Light from the window opposite streamed in and he took a moment to admire the ropey veins that had formed along his arm. Glancing up from his moment of self-admiration, he noticed that his mother really did keep an overabundance of washing powders on hand; the numerous boxes neatly lining the sill looked like some motherly cleaning army.

“Ah good to hear,” Joey continued with a lot more than relief in his voice. “So, the Noctis. They have definitely been moving a lot out west and up in the north. Seems they've been forming alliances with all sorts of beasts. Werewolves we knew about from the demon child's little pep talk back at the factory, but get this: they're even finding a way to get some wendigos to join their ranks.”

Oh shit.

“Damn, really?” Gage replied with genuine shock and concern. “Wendigos aren't the kind of creatures that tend to shack up well with others. The Noctis must be slinging some heavy demon dick around to lure them over.”

Trust Gage to find a means of taking the edge out of any situation. “Haha, yeah the Order has been chatting nonstop about it. The hotbeds they mentioned were in Portland, around the Great Lakes, plus upstate New York. I can't imagine they would be in the city proper but who knows. At least, that’s what I could gleam out of the latest batch of transmissions.”

“Sounds like that's enough action going on, J.”

“If only that were it. Seems there is also some kind of pattern to where the heaviest demon activity is located worldwide, but they’re keeping tight lipped about it; something’s got them all worked up into a frenzy. The powers that be even broke out some form of code and those of us in the field aren’t even aware of what it is, never mind the cypher. So we are in the dark relative to that.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Gage replied, shifting his weight to his lower back and crossing an arm over to rub an itch out of his left pec, “why would they want us to be unaware and unprepared for where we may encounter heavier smoking?”

“My thoughts exactly, but I am sure they have their reasons. I’m thinking they may have caught onto some of the Noctis’ fabled ‘master plan’ and therefore don’t want to tip their hand just yet, in case anyone is listening. I know it’s not the only explanation, but it’s the only one I have at this point. Plus, they already know we know they're up to something since, well, 2010 and run in with your folks.”

“Agree. Ya think there are any near here? The Noctis I mean,” Gage asked, concerned about the possibility of their being demons so close to home.

“There’s no way to know for sure man,” Joey said just as Gage expected him to, “but since you are further out west than here, I would definitely stay on guard.”

“Roger that.”

“So, that’s all I have for now.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course. On another note, how are things going otherwise? You two getting to know each other better?” Joey asked, shifting the conversation to a more personal level. He waited with bated breath for the answer and when it came, it came all too quickly.

“Oh yeah, definitely so,” replied Gage. There was a distinct tone in his voice that indicated he was happy. “She’s great! More than I imagined.”

“Good stuff,” he said back with a bit of dissatisfaction that his idea actually worked, but he was content for him. “I knew it would be a good idea for you two.”

He definitely didn’t want or need to hear further details on that so changed the subject yet again. “So, did you two see any interesting things on your way there?”

“Well you aren’t gonna believe this, but we had a fight with a couple of bunyip,” Gage mentioned nonchalantly.

The other end went quiet for a few seconds and Gage began to think the call might have dropped out. He checked his battery levels and though it was low, it was still adequate.

“Are you serious?” Joey’s voice blasted over the speaker with the elation of a puppy getting his first toy. “Where?”

“Outside of Amarillo,” Gage said bringing the phone back up to his ear. If it were possible, he thought he could feel Joey’s pulse through the airwaves.

“No… fucking… way! Ha! Those things were a little far from home, eh?”

Gage laughed. “Oh, just a wee bit.”

“How’d you take them down?” came the next rapid fire question.

Gage took a few minutes and recounted the entire battle in intricate and greatly exaggerated detail. Joey stayed silent the entire time and absorbed every word.

“So… you shot it in the head?” he replied with a pitch that screamed he was unimpressed. “Their brains are in their chest cavity ya know.”

“I knew that,” Gage rebutted.

“So… in that case why didn’t you just use a fire rune to dry out their feathers? Oh, or a few incendiary rounds! That would have seriously weakened them. Hell now that I think about it, a fire rune might actually kill one outright it were big enough.”

It was now Gage’s turn to remain offensively silent; that is if the grumbling he was doing under his breath counted as quiet.

“Um… yeah… well, where would the fun in that be?” he replied in unflappable Gage style.

Joey snickered, fully expecting that. “Damn man, it sounds like you need me more than you let on.”

“Oh more than ya know, my man.”

With that one sentence Gage couldn’t see that on the other end of the line, Joey’s eyes had opened to their widest and most delighted point in ages.

“It’s definitely… weird not having you around,” Joey sputtered back.

“Same here, I ain’t gonna lie,” Gage replied with ease while lowering his head.

They fell quiet together, only the faint crackle of the line keeping the conversation going.

“Well, I best let you get back to it,” said Joey, a bit in awe at where the conversation had shifted. “Oh! Before I go, do you need me to research anything else for you? Other than bunyip lore of course, since you have that adequately covered.”

The sarcasm was dripping through the tinny speaker.

“Haha,” Gage chuckled. “Actually, I may have one thing. I’m gonna let this phone charge up a bit and send you a photo of a ward that's on the door to the house. Now don’t laugh, but I put the fucker there three years ago and can’t for the life of me remember how to open it.”

“So, you’re saying I’m your saving grace yet again?” Joey inquired in jest.

“In so many words.”

“Haha, I’ll take that as a compliment then, sir.”

“You're so good to me,” Gage acknowledged. “Wouldn’t be where we are today without ya, brother.”

Brother. Ugh, so it's a bromance with the B. Not that it matters Joey, for goodness sake!

“Of course my man!” he replied, snapping out of his short-lived funk. “Ok, I’ll keep an eye out for that photo and let you know what I find. Depending on what it is, it may take me a bit.”

“No worries and thanks J. Will talk soon; Much love.”

With that, Gage pressed the end call button and let out a deep breath before looking back to his collection of bedding.

He walked over and grabbed as much of it up as possible, exiting the building with the patchwork of blankets and sheets. This was going to take a couple of trips.

ADRIENNE RETURNED from her walk around the property wondering what Gage had been up to. She rounded the corner back onto the porch and looked out to see the GMC transformed into quite an amazing sight. Her breath was sucked away and she was speechless as the old truck now looked like an actual canopy bed.

The big brute had moved the truck closer to one of the oaks, a low slung branch acting as a tie off point for two sheets that were wrapped snugly around, each pulled loosely to a side and secured with clamps. He had loaded the hard metal with comforters, tucking them up along the edges of the truck boxes for added cushioning. Atop that sat all the blankets and sheets, and upon those more rolled blankets for use as makeshift pillows.

Damn.

She was impressed, even more so when she felt those strong hands ride along her hips.

Adrienne turned around, smiling; she’d been doing a lot of that today.

“It's…” she began.

“Gorgeous,” he finished, bringing her in for a kiss. “Now I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Wanna hop in?”

All she could manage was a half assed nod as they walked over together. Score one for the big guy.

The sunlight had all but gone by the time they slung themselves onto the covers, the orange and cranberry sky replaced with the gentle twinkle of a starscape so vast above them.

They both laid there in the stillness of the moonlight, gazing up while their thoughts wandered from pinpoint to distant pinpoint, a light breeze sweeping through the tree limbs like distant ocean waves.

“Ady,” Gage whispered in her ear, “I've been meaning to ask ya what your tattoo meant.”

“Oh pillow talk, eh? I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't up to par,” she joked, her voice going into movie-narrator mode. “After all, it is simple in comparison to the elaborate etchings found upon THE mighty Gage Crosse.”

He moved in to punch her arm in slow motion, making a soft exploding sound. “Damn right I'm mighty,” he agreed proudly, “but in all seriousness, I've been meaning to ask since seeing it up close, and with all that’s happened, it slipped my mind. Call it the bunyip effect.”

“Well, there's not a huge or profound meaning behind it,” she admitted. “I got it as a symbol of the infinite love I have for things like family, especially my mom.”

“Ink that represents love is the best kind in my opinion,” he replied, “and the most profound.”

“I suppose so,” she hesitantly agreed. “Even though she didn't like me ‘marking myself up’, it was the least I could do to show how much I cared.” Her eyes dropped forward toward the house before she continued. “My family didn't have the easiest life, even before we were targeted by a coven, nor the biggest house. All I remember was Mom busting her ass each and every day after Dad was… gone… to keep us fed: me and my brother.”

Gage moved a hand under her neck and patted her head, again feeling her soft hair through his fingers. He didn't think he could ever get tired of doing that.

“Moms tend to go out of their way and leave that effect on us,” he told her softly. “I miss mine.”

“And I miss mine too,” she said, returning her gaze skyward; the stars looked incredible and so clear.

“So while we are on this subject,” she interjected, “spill it on the rest of your ink. I'm curious.”

“Who me?” he asked facetiously in a high pitched voice. “The mighty…”

“Don’t do it,” she warned, knowing what was coming next.

“Gage,” he continued. Oh yeah, he was going to do it.

“I mean it,” she reiterated.

“Crosse,” he hissed, extending the last part out as if he were a snake.

She reached over to his nipple and pinched it with a hearty twist.

“Ow! Fine,” he groaned, crossing his arms while using the inside of his forearm to rub the soreness out of his nipple. “Geez, ya little minx, I guess we’ll start right there then. I got the arm sleeved up first as you know, but the chest piece was done around the same time I had those angel wings inked down my back in the fall of 2013.”

“These two pistols represent both of my parents,” he continued, pointing at the right one. “That one’s for Mom and this other one’s for Dad. They represent their fighting spirit as they struggled for their lives against Noctis… and lost. I had the artist put them on a bed of thorns since the pain always eats at me, but they also sit surrounded by three roses, representing the three of us, plus they were Mom’s favorite as you're intimately aware of.” He looked her way and threw out a wink before drawing his arms back behind his head.

“And the script?” she asked, scrolling across the words ‘Death Fears Me’ that were inked in black on his upper chest.

From the outside it may have appeared like her three simple words were asking about another three simple words, but the meaning in these carried great personal significance to him; a great weight.

He quickly grew silent.

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Nah, it's okay,” he reassured her, taking a deep breath as though he was hesitant to say anything, “just been a fair while since I've had to think about this.

“It was back in early 2014, just before meeting you and Joey. I was on the trail of a mothman that was making Kentucky its bitch. I was just passing through when I heard a story come across local radio that caught my attention: pale skin, red eyes, yada yada. I thought it was very weird that one of them was so far west, so I got really interested really fast. Knowing what we know now about the Noctis, factions, and movements it makes total sense.

“Anyway, long story short it was indeed a mothman and I managed to put it down after quite the fight outside Louisville. When all was done, I tore out of Dodge and was in a pretty bad mental state from the battle - we had locked eyes a couple of times too many. That's when I didn't notice the kid crossing the street in front of me. He was no more than ten years old I would guess, so young and innocent.”

There was a long pause.

“I… I hit him going about forty-five… sent him clean out of his shoes and down the road a stretch.”

Adrienne felt tears welling up in her eyes as she saw a glistening kaleidoscope forming in his.

“So,” he continued cheerlessly, “I stopped the truck right away and ran over to tend to him as he laid there dying. Dying because of me.”

“But it wasn't you, Gage, it was -”

“The mothman’s fault?” he snipped, a hand pounding back against the makeshift pillows. “No, that fucker was dead and I was the one behind the wheel. I tried to stop the bleeding, poor kid, but it was too late. Or so I thought.

“As we sat there in the middle of the street, a hooded shape formed out of the nearby shadows and approached. It stood, well hovered as there were no feet, and just looked at us in the bright sun. Its silence was the creepiest thing. I thought it was a demon at first, but it didn't want to possess either of us and there wasn't any telltale smoke or sulfur.

“When it finally said something, I gotta say it was like all the warmth around us was sucked up into its faceless hood and I could see my own breath even though it had to be in the upper sixties that day.”

“What did it say to you?” she asked, wide eyed.

“I’ll never forget it,” Gage said before he put on his best scary voice, which was much scarier in his mind, and went on, “I am the living death and the death of the living. I am come for the soul that is owed us this moment.”

“Death?!” Adrienne gasped. “What, as in the Grim Reaper? Skull face, black robes and all? You're pulling my leg.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” he replied. “He did vaguely look like that, but was… different. All I know is that Death was there, in the flesh.”

“I know, I know. I'm just… Wow, okay.”

“That's not the best part,” Gage said sheepishly as Adrienne grew afraid to hear what he had to say next. “As the boy was laying there, I offered my own soul up as a substitute. Now don't look at me like that; I was tired, Ady, and at quite a low point.

“Death reached out to me with his bony fingers and I closed my eyes awaiting my fate, but he stopped just short of my face, refusing to take my soul with him. He told me it was not my time and that he would also spare the boy’s life for the lack of fear I showed that moment. With a wave of his hand my addled state of mind was gone and then he said that he feared me: a man that did not show fear of death but respected it. He finished by saying neither Heaven nor Hell could console me for the things coming ahead.”

“Gage, I… I had no idea.”

“We all keep a lil bit of ourselves hid from the world, Ady. I know you have secrets locked up inside, too. For fear of not letting people know them, for weakness, for pride, whatever. All I ask is that ya don't think less of me.”

“That’s definitely true,” she agreed with a sigh, “and I certainly don't think any less of you. Do you know when… your time will be?”

“No, he didn’t tell me. Suppose it’s because we aren't meant to know ahead of time.”

Silence grew between them for a good ten minutes.

“I love how meaningful all your ink is to you,” she told him, breaking the silence to continue the conversation they had started. “Are the wings similarly so?”

Gage had somewhat recuperated and his eyes playfully darted from hers to the sky and back again. “Dammit I wish,” he admitted softly, “but I just liked the way they looked on my back.”

“At least you're honest,” she said with a giggle as his hands came down over his eyes like a ‘see no evil’ monkey.

“The rest of ‘em aren't that meaningful either, more for utility really, except maybe the one on my quad.” He then pointed over to the pentacle on his left shoulder, flexing with a mind of its own as soon as attention fell on it.

“That's an easy one. It's for protection against evil,” she recited as if reading out of a textbook, “and thou shalt be assured that no enchantment or being, magical or otherwise, shall hold sway over the bearer of this mark.”

Gage laughed, pointing to the gash on his brow. “Either mine’s broken or something must've been lost in translation, but that sucker delivers one hell of a burn to any supernaturals that touch it.”

“So do the runes around it do anything or just add to the ‘mighty’ factor?” she asked, knowing that Futhark runes generally did imbue qualities such as luck, strength, and defense to weaponry and standard seals.

“Honestly, I added those since they looked cool around it,” he confessed. “It's the entire set of runes, so I'm sure if something was working, it's probably being cancelled out by something else.”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if she had won a bet. “I'll have to tell Joey when I see him.”

Gage raised a brow again. “Say what?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he responded by kicking the sheets off his left leg. Their fall was delayed briefly by a gust of wind, showing a clear and lingering view of the sleeping giant before settling back over him, leaving his meaty thigh displayed in the cool light.

“Just for that you're going to have to translate this last tattoo all by yourself, darlin’.”

She propped herself up and gave the leg a good once over. Futhark runes ran horizontally in several short lines spelling out some sort of spell or phrase. The symbols were resting atop scalloped clouds shaded in the background, which flowed along the defined peaks and valleys his muscles formed. She brought a hand down to help study the runes as if they we written on a delicate scroll and the fibers involuntarily flexed under her touch.

“Now let's see,” she stated confidently. “It looks like we have a Bruce Lee fan here ladies and gentlemen. Seems to say: ‘Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.’ Am I right?”

Gage kept his mouth shut.

“Haha. Love it,” she said, leaving her hand to linger there on his quad while starting to trace its way up along the deep lines.

“Well that's enough looking for you,” he said in fun, pulling the covers up high. All of him was encased in a fluffy cocoon except for his beaming face, white teeth shining with a light all themselves.

Adrienne repositioned herself to stare directly into those emerald pools of his, caressing him on the chest and rubbing his tender nipple.

He unfurled an arm out from under the blankets and rested it next to hers.

“I know I can come across as a big badass,” he stated, half expecting another love tap from her. “Someone that can handle themselves and loves to be alone. Reality is, that's as far from the truth as you can get. Being alone… it scares me.”

In a heartbeat her hand nestled itself into his again and she looked up, unbelieving of how clear the stars managed to get out here.

“Gage,” she said back, “we've journeyed together for a while now, mostly working and placing the safety of others ahead of our own feelings. It does makes it worthwhile, doing it for those you care about… those you love. But I’m glad our feelings for each other are finally getting acknowledged and we’re acting on them. Life is a lonely road, but only until you find someone to travel with. My road, no our road, is a lot less lonely now.”

Gage hadn’t ever considered it that way, always shoving his own feelings on the back burner in the hopes of not getting them hurt.

“Well then, I can safely say that I'm not afraid,” he declared.

“Goodie for me,” she acknowledged, again looking at his irresistible face.

He returned the glance and laughed. “Oh really now? Just for you?”

“Yup. You are very attractive, sir,” she mentioned casually.

“Damn right I’m your ‘sir.’ Ya better get used to calling me that,” he commanded. “I think I like it more than Gage now.”

She nodded. “Oh you won’t have to worry about that, sir. I’ll continue to stare; it’s kind of involuntary at this point.”

He smiled that unbelievably charming smile one more time as he lifted her hand up in front of them. “Well take a sec and look at this,” he said, keeping their hands out. “See that right there? Since taking everything from me, and I mean it all, I’ve become the best at haunting the dreams of monsters. Now I have someone to haunt them with me. Plus, if things went to hell and ended at this moment and I never got to see anything else in this fucked up crazy world, know that I have all I need in this life right here, right now.”

Her grip tightened, a single tear escaping her eye. “Yup,” she said. “Everything.”

As their hands fell back to the truck bed, they both drifted to sleep underneath the canopy of twinkling stars.

Gage coughed. “You forgot to say sir.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A SURPRISE FROM THE PAST

ADRIENNE WAS AWAKENED by the morning sun dancing on her eyelids as it filtered through the canopy overhead.

Apparently, she had kicked off most of the covers during the night. Gage was notorious for being a scorching furnace and as such, holding onto him for any length of time under a massive stack of blankets would have been a death sentence, or at least a good way to lose a good bit of excess weight. Speaking of that grizzly beast, she prodded the man shaped mound of cloth beside her and discovered that he was already gone. Par for the course, she took a final stretch before tossing the sheet aside to start the day.

Leaping to the ground from the tailgate, her bare feet hopped across the craggy gravel before cuddling up to the carpet-like grass. A little too much winter blew by, forcing her to tiptoe back and reach into the truck to snatch up something to cover herself with before making her way toward the house.

When she reached the picket fence, a lone figure standing out by the pasture caught her attention. Coming around the porch line and into the back yard, she could now make out that it was Gage propped up soulfully with his elbows on the metal gate.

He was looking off into the distance, mind wrapped up in a secret thought, so she found the nearest tree and huddled against it to admire the view while making sure not to disturb him. Perhaps the sheet around her had grown a bit too effective, but it was getting ridiculously hot. It had to be the sun, now peeking over the trees to the east; that was as good an excuse as any.

Calmly he shifted in her direction, the dreamy amber glow settling across every detail from his naked, arched back down to his lower, jean enclosed curves. When their eyes finally met, they didn’t need to say a single word, yet spoke volumes.

In her heart, Adrienne knew at that moment it was going to be a great day; the most perfect day.

“Good morning dear,” he told her, his voice having a sexually charged raspiness to it. Turning fully around, he placed the small of his back against one of the metal bars and a bead of salty sweat left the center of his chest on a journey down beneath the sweet lines of intimate denim.

“Morning to you, too, mister,” she replied while gliding up to him, throwing her arms around his neck as her feet kicked back off the ground. The sheet fluttered around her like an elegant white dress as their lips met.

“Don’t think I’ll ever tire of that,” he said when they finally pulled apart.

“Good thing,” she replied, tapping a finger across the middle of his lips. “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

He wrapped his stalwart arms around her, drawing her to his side as they settled back on the gate together, admiring the house in its provincial glory; so warm in the morning shine.

“I managed to get the utilities back on,” he murmured in her ear, slowly raising his voice to match his elevated mood, “but the house is in a kind of ‘low power’ mode: the lights are on, but aren’t going to get very bright and the large appliances won't be working for us at all. I’m sure we can find a way to get the coffee pot working though, if a three-year-old blend tickles your fancy. Let's see, I also got the pumps fully operational and, oh, you’re gonna love this: there’s even hot water available through the solar heaters. Thank you, Dad!”

“Oh that’s fancy,” she said earnestly, thankful that there was an opportunity for a relaxing soak in the near future. Nothing beat that feeling of hot water on the skin, especially after a long stint of road travel; it seemed no matter how long a trip lasted, it always brought the same level of muckiness along for the ride.

Yet the harsh reality of all this fanciful daydreaming about steaming baths underneath dim lights hinged on them actually being able to open the door, and when they last attempted it that was still a no go.

“That sounds fantastic, but are we any closer in figuring out how to get in?” she asked pragmatically, the ‘we’ undoubtedly meaning ‘you’ in this case.

“That happens to be what I was mulling over when you came by,” he answered. “I sent Joey a text last night with a photo of the ward, hoping he could help me figure it out.”

“And… he was able to?” she asked with a little apprehension. Even though she said there was no rush last night, the mere mention of hot water earlier made her realize just how dirty she had become.

“Yeah, thank God. Seems I had the right idea, doing all those circus acts on the porch. As entertaining as that was, I was forgetting a key part of the deal: the passphrase. J called it an ‘amalgamated ward’ or something technical like that, so it needs all the different elements to be in play correctly and at the same time for it to work.” He paused to toss a pious look her way, “Trust lil’ ol’ me to mix shit up from different cultures when I drew that out. At least the phrase isn’t a long one: same number of words as triangles within the circle.”

“Makes sense to me I guess. So… what is it?” she asked anxiously. “Please for the love of all that’s holy tell me you have the phrase figured out.”

His hands raised in defense. “No need to fret, I got this,” he reassured her while gesturing back to the building. “Wanna see?”

“By all means,” she said, not wasting any time stepping away to allow him to pass. Why did she have the sense he was procrastinating for time?

He pushed himself off and swaggered confidently by, promenading along the grassy field up toward the house. Adrienne once again fell in behind him, taking stock of his abundant assets and in no time they were back on the porch staring at the unblinking eye.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, dramatically putting his hand on the mark while looking directly at it. Clearing his throat, he spoke three words to command the door to open, “Home sweet home.”

The mandate was followed by an uncomfortable silence, punctuated with the quaint chirping of far off birds.

“Gage!” shouted Adrienne in a huff. “Seriously, come on!”

He laughed at her frustration, though the look on her face didn’t reflect the same sentiment. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“Fucker,” she said modestly under her breath, arms resting squarely on her hips.

This time, with a look of intensity that could swoon the most prude person on the planet, he focused all attention on the ward. The dawning day shut itself out in a darkening vignette as he pressed his right hand firmly against the wood, its surface slippery with condensation. Closing his left eye he crouched, right eye peering on while his mouth was cracked, the three words of power hanging ready from his lips.

“Non… Omnis… Moriar…” he uttered calmly.

With each spoken word, a low rumble coursed through the doorway, its prickly heat spilling out to bubble the siding and shake the glass in its frames. A surge of air rushed at him and he tore his hand away from the now fierce stinging; the eye that had been still all this time now blinking as if alive. Suddenly it bloomed into flame, looking around wildly while the hand symbol spread its fingers wide, catching fire too like some burning starfish. When the fingers reached their widest, near painful point, the triangles around them spun erratically before shooting off in dazzling jets of orange that outlined every window and door, surging three times before fizzling out with a subtle crack.

The door, at last, swung open to beckon them inside.

Gage stared at the open portal, partly ready to storm inside, yet also wishing he was still trying to figure out how to get it open. Yet, as usual they had succeeded and there was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer.

“Time’s come to find out if y’all were right about this being a trap,” he said to Adrienne while stepping over the threshold. Care seemed to fall away the moment his foot came down on the other side, followed by the other.

Adrienne was soon inside herself, entering the foyer and closing the door behind her. It clicked softly, securely shut again after all the effort put forth to open it.

Gage had stopped a few paces ahead, mulling over a collection of photos that were neatly arranged across two wooden tables, one on each side of the archway leading into the large living room. The drywall behind them shot up a dozen feet, coated with once lively shades of green and tan. Equally vibrant paintings of country landscapes were distributed around the walls, their colors neutralized under a thin layer of dust; the chalky haze covered pretty much everything in sight, leaving a dullness that betrayed the place’s former glory.

From what she could make out, Gage was looking at a family photo. She looked at his smiling mom and dad dressed in their Sunday best. Shoved awkwardly between them was a scrawny kid, tall and dressed in an oversized blue dress shirt with black slacks. No more than a buck twenty, his spotty face smiled proudly through a thick set of braces. When compared with the present day version of Gage, the difference was quite staggering.

“No bad omens yet,” he said while setting the frame down, tiny motes kicking up after the soft thump of silver on the tabletop, “though I guess my symbol back on the door there didn't conjure up a feather duster for its lil’ hand; how the hell did all this dust get in here?”

“Wards only affect living things,” Adrienne answered with a smug look as he stepped through the curls of visible air into the living room, “well soul bound things anyway. Duh.”

Gage’s attention was, noting the fireplace along the back wall still had a chunks of scorched log resting in the hearth and adjacent to it, running along each side, large windows loomed in the shade. On the left hand side, a set of French doors near the end of the breakfast table lead out to another large patio, the once green plants visible through gaps in the curtains having long since withered to brown.

Adrienne continued around the overstuffed sofas into the modern kitchen that was attached to the breakfast area, while Gage took up on one of the largest of the soft seats. His hefty boots made two clunky thumps when he slung them up on the coffee table.

“Damn, manners?” Adrienne said to him with disdain, opening up some of the curtains and twisting the blinds to let a little more light in.

“You seen the state of this place?” Gage replied with equivalent scorn.

Good thing she wasn't close to him after that reply, as she might have popped him with a fist, though that might just be the reaction he was looking for. It was hard to gauge if it was all in his master plan or just luck in how the proverbial cards fell, but he had her confused once again, thinking at length about him while he was just sitting there on the sofa, almost innocently, thinking about God knows what.

Attempting to push him out of her mind, she looked around the kitchen; it had a distinctively modern flair with its stainless steel appliances, black granite countertops flecked with gold, and milky glazed cabinetry. However, looking out from various nooks and crannies were motherly trinkets and plaques that tied the space back to its country roots.

A little black sign hung crooked over the backsplash behind the stovetop, decorated with yellow egg shapes and letters that read ‘Wicked chickens lay deviled eggs’. With a chuckle and a bit of OCD, Adrienne stepped over to straighten it, passing through an area of intense cold.

With each breath, clouds of vapor formed; it had to be at least twenty degrees colder than the surrounding area and the feeling icicles could form out of the moisture collected in her now sniffling nose was a very real possibility. She leaped back a few feet in surprise and the temperature began to rise again, her hair standing on end.

“Gage…” she called out collectedly. “You might want to come take a look at this, and snatch the EMF reader if you can.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” his voice came from the living room; it was calm and collected as well, though a pronounced vein of nervousness ran through the words.

She took a few steps to her left and craned her neck around the wall, catching a solid glimpse of a rooster shaped cookie jar as it rose off the counter in front of her and floated merrily into the middle of the living room. The lid separated off of the base and both pieces stopped in front of Gage, still resting with his feet up, taunting him for a moment in the air between his legs.

Then, as if someone decided to turn gravity back on, they dropped one at a time to the floor. The base fell with a heavy and expected thud while the lid, a few inches further from him, turned on its side and gunned into the floor with a hollow clank that echoed through the room.

Gage lifted his feet off the table and took to his knees, puzzled by the different sounds he had just heard, while Adrienne bolted to the truck for some of their gear.

He took a knuckle and rapped it along the hardwoods, searching the space between the sofa and coffee table. The sound went from deep and solid to soft and vacant. Pulling back the edge of the vintage rug, his latest suspicions were confirmed; there beneath the Persian threads was a trap door. A tiny ward had been placed on the edge, damaged by the lid when it dropped.

“Would ya look at that,” Gage whispered to himself, running a fingernail along the tiny dent in the broken symbol, “a concealment ward. Powerful one. Where’d you come from, ya little devil?”

Adrienne returned a short time later with a leather satchel, overflowing with ghost hunting paraphernalia. She reached in and brought out an EMF meter, one of their fancier ones that had the Mosely touch for added signal detection. Holding it close to the cookie jar halves, the rows of LEDs flickered green.

“The green confirms it; we have an Earthbound spirit,” she said over the meter’s faint, Geiger-like clicks.

“That and seein’ it happen with our own peepers,” Gage responded acrimoniously as he pointed two fingers in the shape of a V at his eyes.

She withdrew the device smugly and returned it to the bag. The lights calmed, unlike her mood, then diminished. “Give me vamps all night long,” she stated, “I hate ghosts.”

“So whatcha think this door in the floor is?” he asked poetically. “I've no doubt our lil’ poltergeist and whatever’s down there are related.”

“So… let me get this straight: you've no idea what this is or what is down there?”

Gage nodded indifferently and Adrienne looked as though she was seriously contemplating banging her head as hard as she could, right there on the spot he was pointing to.

“If I did know, I wouldn't have asked ya,” he stated. “Honestly, had no idea a door was sittin’ under the living room coffee table this whole time. Heck, I used to lay under there on my stomach and play with Hot Wheels for hours.”

“How is that possible?” she wondered out loud.

“All boys played with cars at some point, Ady.”

She didn't reply, instead just staring blankly; he didn’t like this new look of hers and was missing the eye roll.

“Well… you didn't know my dad,” Gage said matter-of-factly. “He was loving and great, but also had a shit ton of secrets. I always thought there was more to him than just a simple nine to five at an accounting firm. Apparently, one of those secrets included the ability to place a concealment charm on a door to hide who knows how many more down there. We only found it thanks to the not-so-random face plant ol’ Foghorn Leghorn did; beak broke clean through the ward.”

“Oh wow!” she said, her mood improving mood. Wards and weapons were nearly as exciting to her as his own tools - well, one in particular.

“And before you ask me,” he said right as her mouth began to spin up for another salvo of questions, “no, I don't know who this ghost could possibly be.”

She sunk back onto her knees. “Your dad maybe?”

Gage chuckled a few times before continuing, “Yeah, I thought it might be one of the folks at first, which made me really uncomfortable. Surprisingly uncomfortable, now that I think about it. I don't think I could handle too much of that right now, especially Mom and her finger waving over my tattoos. But seriously, I can't think of anything off the top of my head that would bind either of them here and though Dad might have some kind of unfinished business with his secrets, I don't think any of it would've warranted going all Patrick Swayze, though I could be wrong. Barring them, that leaves us one answer: an unknown spirit tied to an item somewhere in the house, more than likely something that’s tucked away down below.”

Adrienne dug into the bag and grabbed up the meter again, waving it over the door. With a sudden jolt it sprang back to life, her eyes like saucers taking in the green lights flashing wildly, shifting from the verdant hues of before to deep reds.

“Gage, there’s a lot of energy down there,” Adrienne reported, “I mean a ton of it. I’ve never seen the meter go red before; that can’t be good.”

The clicks, which had been distant pings before, rapidly increased in frequency to become a constant, unnerving buzz. The mere sound of it made Adrienne feel dizzy, her focus wavering as the secondary flag-arms shot up on either side.

“That’s a new one, too,” she said, both impressed and anxious. She craved the days of having a single comforting emotion at a time, but those were long gone. Looking down to the digital display, she saw that it was maxed out with all numbers at nine; the LCDs fluttering just as nervously as her heart was.

“We have got to open this bad boy up!” Gage exclaimed, his face and body fidgeting with excitement, in direct contrast to her unease. Massive numbers always seemed to get big men excited: weights lifted in the gym, the horsepower of a car engine, or how pegged out a supernatural field meter was. All of that and factors well beyond her female understanding were cause for instant boners.

So it was the two positioned themselves, ready to lift off the coffee table. Without warning, one of the photos in the entryway slung itself from the table with a loud crash.

They both stood straight up in unison, attention drawn toward the front door. Soon the rest of the pictures followed like a herd of lemmings, cascading onto the floor in a raucous metal and glass waterfall.

All around them, the paintings on the walls began to sway in their frames, the crooked pinnacle of an obsessive-compulsive’s worst nightmare, while the lights flared up brightly with supernatural energy.

Suddenly, a chilling scream burst its way through the room, cracking the mirror over the fireplace.

“Ah shit whoever this is, they’re comin’,” Gage said hurriedly, “Is there any salt in that bag of yours?”

Adrienne rifled through the contents, pulling out a long plastic container of iron filings. There was a crinkled sticky note taped onto the side; it was from Joey and read, ‘Sorry, Hometown Grocery was closed so borrowed the salt for steaks. Promise to replace in the morning.’

“No, seems not!” Adrienne said crassly, shoving the note up in Gage's face. “But we have iron powder.”

“If we didn't need that kid so much, I swear I’d kill him,” he replied after reading the note for himself. His eyes rolled, which was definitely a rare sight. Fighting to suppress his annoyance, he turned and made a mad dash for the kitchen.

As he ran, the pots, pans, glasses and silverware seemed to forget the laws of physics, flying randomly around the room in a culinary cyclone. He dodged his way through with barely a bump until a large copper pot struck pay-dirt on his knee. He stumbled to the floor, but thankfully exactly where he needed to be.

In front of him was the cabinet his mom kept all the spices in. Muttering a little prayer, he reached out to open it, a knife nicking across his forearm as he pulled. His prayer was answered; there inside was a plain blue box of pure sea salt.

“That’ll do lil’ rain girl,” he said, tearing it open and dumping the chunky white crystals into the container of iron, shaking vigorously.

Limping, he made his way back to Adrienne while reciting a short Latin spell over the container. Now blessed, he tossed the mix over to her and walked over to the fireplace, picking up an iron poker to defend himself.

Adrienne proceeded to pour out the salt and iron on the floor around them, but the circle she needed to make was too large and the canister was emptied early. There wasn’t enough material to close the gap.

“Shit, why can’t this ever be easy?” she complained as she bent over and used her hands to spread out the particles dangerously thin. By the end of her efforts, she was successful and the gap was gone.

With the protective circle finished, she leapt back up and stepped cautiously over the line to join Gage in the center.

The wails, tortured and malevolent, continued to rise.

The duo tried to prepare themselves for an imminent attack, looking around to anticipate where their unseen adversary would materialize. They had no idea where the strike would come from. It drove Adrienne crazy.

The screams had grown deafening, stabbing their ears with agonizing precision and bringing them to the brink of bleeding. Gage dropped the rod on the floor and raised his hands to block out what he could of the noise; Adrienne soon followed suit, nearly blacking out from the buildup of pressure.

The strike came sooner than expected and from all around. There was a brilliant flash and everything became white. A loud ringing pounded their temples and continued to echo between their already sore ears for a few more minutes.

Amidst the bleached haze, Gage’s sight was slowly returning to normal. He squinted at the random blobs moving in front of him, trying to make out the shifting and undulating patterns. He couldn’t, though one area remained steadily bright, possibly growing brighter. He shielded his eyes with an arm while frantically rubbing his eyes with the other.

He looked again.

Oh my God. This has to be a dream.

There, standing before him, clad wholly in billowing robes of rosy light, was a person he had never expected to see again. His mouth agape, the single word he was trying to say took a lifetime to pass over his chapped lips.

“Mom?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MR. SHERIDAN'S BAD DAY

IT WAS a busy and brisk morning in New York City as the clock struck nine, traffic reaching its peak while the population took out their aggressions through incessant honking and shouting.

An athletic man, dressed in vintage tweed and a matching hat, rushed along Broadway, dodging oncoming pedestrians. The smells wafting off the food carts teased his senses when he passed by, breakfast having been skipped that morning due to a late alarm.

As luck would have it, he had timed his journey perfectly, catching nearly all of the crossings as they changed to red and being forced to wait. He was left to fidget with his many ear piercings mercilessly to pass the time.

Dashing a few more blocks – traffic laws be damned – he finally made it to 50th. Rounding the corner, he nearly took out an old woman and though he narrowly missed, those colorfully choice words of hers didn't miss his ears.

Letting out a little laugh at the notion that someone's grandma would be swearing that much, he came upon a large roll up door outside one of the theaters. To the left, a simple pedestrian entrance led into a car park, set behind the bars of a heavy but worn security door. It was shut tight and even had a rusty padlock on the hasp, just in case the notion of keeping out evaded anyone passing by.

Speaking of which, he thought to get inside before anyone noticed him loitering. He had no desire to enter the parking lot itself; in fact Marcus Sheridan hadn't owned a car since the middle of 1995. However, he did want to go where the massive gray door would take him.

“This is Marcus Sheridan, Journeyman XI,” he spoke commandingly.

As any normal person would expect, no reply came from the inanimate steel, but Marcus was in the Order and the lack of response took him by surprise. He coughed and repeated the statement, after which there was still silence.

Getting frustrated, he kicked at the lowest part of the door and the whole thing shook noisily. Suddenly a response came from the clatter, as if the door itself were speaking.

“Now, Mr. Sheridan,” said an altogether hollow voice, “is that any way to treat Order property?”

“Well,” he snapped back quickly, “if the guardsman’s response was faster, I wouldn't have to resort to damaging doorways to get attention.”

The voice fell silent once more.

He furiously knocked against the gray slats, the ink on his hand jostling into a blur. “Um… hello?”

“Password,” it responded, falling quiet again as it waited for his answer.

“Wha… What do you mean password? My credentials have always been sufficient!” he said indignantly.

“New requirements have gone into effect as of this very morning, sir, due to current events.”

“The Noctis?” he asked.

“I am not at liberty to say,” it replied indifferently. “Password, please.”

Marcus scratched at thick scruff, light brown and peppered with gray. “So, how am I supposed to know the password if we were never issued one to begin with?”

The Order’s methods could at times be incredibly frustrating and that morning was no exception. Marcus began to pace in annoyance and would surely be noticed by people if he didn't get inside soon.

He paused, pretending to rest against the wall while sorting through the vast Rolodex of facts stored up in his head. As Lead Analyst, there weren't many tidbits of information that got by him. Now he knew there wouldn't be many chances at a guess if a password protocol was in effect and likely, there would be only one if the Noctis did indeed have anything to do with this. He definitely wanted to be right, not only because he would be shut out of his place of work, but there was also no telling what the penalty would be for an incorrect answer.

After a few minutes spent mulling it over, he settled on a line from the Order’s creed which was recited at induction ceremonies. It was in reference to the golden mean - a position of balance between two extremes like good and evil. It was certainly a risk to choose it, plucked quite at random, but it was not any more a liability than the myriad of other possible choices. He supposed since it was part of a short phrase that all Journeymen would know by heart, it made the most sense.

“Aurea mediocritas,” he said with both eyes closed, half expecting to be vaporized right there on the spot. When he didn't feel a thing, he peeked an eye open and found everything still in one piece.

Or perhaps not…

The back of his neck suddenly got very hot, spreading over his entire body like a fever; the effects of an invisibility field were dousing him.

The metal in front of him curled its way forward as the corrugated door split, a gigantic shape stepping out toward him. However, instead of squashing him like a bug, it stepped off to the side to reveal a shimmering portal in the vacant spot where it had stood. Beyond that was a cavernous hall.

“You are correct,” said the guardsman, extending its arm invitingly. “Welcome back to the New York offices of the Grand Order of Journeymen, Mr. Sheridan.”

“Much obliged,” he said politely, swiftly stepping into the portal.

A tightness formed in the lower part of his back, dragging him forward at great speed as if a rope were tied around his waist. He managed to avert the oncoming blackout this time, which is more than could be said for himself ten years ago.

He had been whisked away from 50th to the entrance hall, located about a mile away in the upper levels of a skyscraper on Central Park West. Stumbling slightly when he arrived on the shiny marble floor, its glossy coating reflected back a disheveled version of himself.

Immediately straightening out his hat and other accessories, Marcus looked around the ornate and equally lustrous chamber. It was three stories tall and lined on either side with marble encased balconies capping off long corridors of identical white doors. There were expansive windows ahead of him, offering a grand view of the autumn colors and a massive dome that swept overhead. It was painted with a Renaissance mural of angels and demons locked in an eternal battle in the sky, while the modern symbol of the Order - a hammer, howdah pistol, and sword overlaid to form a triangle - was emblazoned on a large stone tile in the very center.

To his surprise, there were very few Journeymen walking about this morning; it was quite odd considering the area was normally packed with people, all sorts of creatures, and a lot of office gossip.

A sole gargoyle walked in front of the windows ahead of him, his naked and stony skin catching flecks of the morning light. One level below, a man in similar attire to his own walked across the expansive floor, a beautiful griffin of brown and white with an owl-like face following close beside. Before heading to his own office, Marcus propped himself up on the iron balustrade and continued to watch as the man mounted the creature, flying off from a platform out and across the park, disappearing into the sky. Such beauty and grace; this was why he loved the Order.

A short time later he reached his office and opened the door to his windowless corner of the corporate world. He was greeted by stacks of paperwork sitting in his inbox, strewn across his desk, and even waiting for him in his seat.

Trudging over to the desk, he moved the stack of papers off of the ergonomic chair and placed them onto the already heaping mound on the desktop. He sat down with a look of shock; never had this many reports appeared overnight.

There was no other place to start than the top, so he began to plod through the huge reams. What jumped out almost immediately was the sheer number of reports from outposts reporting increased demon activity and the sightings of all manner of dark creatures, an abundance of them coming from the West Coast and along the northern border. All of this was quite strange, as most activity in the States was relegated to the northeast and south, with the odd occurrence happening in the Midwest or four corner states and of course the proliferation of vampire covens in Texas. Most of those had been taken care of by Gage Crosse.

Ah Gage, now there was a Journeyman living the life, not stuck between four walls analyzing statistics and reports as the highlight of his day. How the Order had changed since the Incursion. Marcus secretly longed for life on the road, despite the hazards and unpredictability of it.

He spotted some messages mixed in among the papers from longtime colleague Om Citta. The topic was all about ancient artifacts and despite his kindled interest, Marcus would have to review those later when there was more time. The priority now was figuring out what the Noctis were up to.

From what he could gather over the next two hours of painstaking review, the demons had suddenly attacked and possibly even infiltrated some of their most distant outposts in Oregon and along the Great Lakes, all of which had ties of some manner to the location and operation of the stateside vaults. Housed within those were some of the most dangerous items in the world. The demons were likely planning to raid them for powerful tools to help them gain strength and for other nefarious purposes, but Marcus couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this, much more that laid hidden between the lines. Regardless, he didn’t like it and it made him incredibly uneasy.

He swiveled in his chair to face an elegant rotary phone tucked away at the corner of his desk, its twisted cord poking out from underneath the piled up paperwork.

“Edith,” he said after lifting the golden handset and dialing seven. “I need to schedule a meeting with the Council.”

“Yes, Mr. Sheridan, of course. When are you looking to do so? Their current calendar of events takes them to next Thurs -”

“I need to see them today,” he interrupted, the seriousness in his voice could not be denied. “I fear we do not have much time.”

There was no choice in his mind, a Grand Assembly would need to be called.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE CURSED HIGHWAY

BENNETT PEAK WAS a monolith that stood alone amongst the rest of the flatlands of New Mexico, along the cursed stretch of road formerly known as the Devil’s Highway. Although the humans renamed that stretch to the boring US Route 491, it was still known by its old name to many.

Its isolated location and natural rock formations provided the perfect cover for the Noctis and their operations, although due to the area’s public reputation and ties to the supernatural, they kept their numbers small to lessen the risk of detection. Thus far they were able to remain hidden from the Journeymen, while any odd, unsuspecting hikers would become a part of their ranks, or worse.

The sun had moved into position at high noon, uncaring for what went on underneath as it dumped copious amounts of heat onto the landscape. A sudden flash of lightning burst from unseen clouds, heralding the arrival of Keli at the secret base.

Immediately, she set to walking up to the tallest point, looking out at the drab landscape around her as a hot breeze caught her hair. The expanse stretched for miles in all directions and here she was, now able to breathe and to think – her thoughts free like the stirring sands below

She found beauty in the utter desolation and this was why she loved the Noctis.

“Your Grace,” came a gritty voice from behind. It was the demon Ronove, primary watcher of the peak. “Welcome. We have just received updates on our alliances per your request; would you care for an update?”

His skin was brown and parched like the grasses below them and he bore a rickety staff in his wizened hands. Pleats of dull fabric wrapped loosely around his frail body, rippling in the ongoing breeze.

She took a moment for a last look to the horizon before turning to him, her blue eyes meeting his sunken, colorless ones. There was an emptiness there that, unlike the desert, made her feel barren and somber.

“Yes, of course,” she said, withdrawing her gaze and stepping past him down the steps.

He followed closely behind her, stopping when faint, anguished chirping reached his ears. He paused, looking for the source of it, and soon found an ailing sparrow tucked in amongst the folds of stone. Its wing had been broken and was twisted back on itself. Its feathers ruffled and sickly. Ants were crawling over its body, biting and eating as it squirmed in the dirt.

“Poor, decrepit soul,” Ronove said calmly. He placed his weight onto the staff and slowly dropped down to one knee. Extending a hand, it hovered inches away from the suffering creature and then, with a subtle pop, it was dead.

A faint whorl of light rose up from its body and into his arthritic fingers, becoming a strand of his robes when he stood back up.

He carried on down the steps to meet up with Keli in the caverns, soon reaching the base of the winding stairs where she stood waiting for him.

“Delayed?” she asked pointedly.

“Only slightly,” he replied peacefully. “Helping a suffering soul be free.”

She had stopped underneath a single pillar of light that streamed down from the outside. Behind her, a great door hung from a towering frame and across its ebony surface of glass were wicked carvings of heinous things unlike the world had ever seen. From the other side, something knocked, forever waiting to be answered.

They both ignored the base desire to open the door, turning away to walk deeper into the grotto. Soon they reached a branching corridor with paths heading off to the left, right and center. Ronove headed down the central one and into a small chamber. Stone shelves were carved directly into the walls. Upon them were stoppered flasks and bottles of various colored liquid and in the middle, a stony basin rose from the ground. Its inner surface was smooth as glass.

He walked over to a large round flask of black fluid and unstoppered it, pouring half the container into the basin. It was thick like tar and bubbled once it settled.

“Your hand,” he said, extending his own above the boiling fluid.

Keli followed suit and his hand doubled backwards to seize it. Producing a dagger from beneath his robes, he swiftly cut a gash across her open palm. The blood pooled as she attempted to withdraw, but he kept her firmly in place. It overflowed into the bowl and when the deep crimson hit black, the liquid went clear, swirling like a drain to show them brief glimpses from far off demonic settlements around the world.

Keli proudly observed the forests of Tillamook as the Bigfoot there walked openly amongst her agents –many had assembled for such a rare creature. Their towering frames and dark hair blended seamlessly amongst the surrounding foliage.

The scene whirled to Kenora, Canada where a grizzly sight met their eyes. Emaciated Wendigo were feasting upon still living flesh and Keli did not turn away. Their long tongues lapped up fresh blood and she couldn't help but applaud herself for bringing at least a few of these terrifying beasts to their aide.

The dank cave then spun away, replaced by rapidly shifting images of megalithic ruins, ancient statues, deep mines, and high volcanoes. All were visually striking yet forsaken, as if they sat poised for greatness.

Suddenly the liquid raged and the destitute lands dissolved into an assembly of non-aligned supernatural creatures, gathering under the dappled light of an old barn. At the front of the group, the head vampires of three covens paced.

“Shifting the purpose of the Sight is a dangerous thing, Your Grace,” Ronove chastised. “Do it too often and our eyes will be detected.”

“I know,” she said, “but we have to know what our adversaries are up to. Where is this place?”

Ronove fell quiet, allowing the magic to work its way into his mind. “Durango,” he answered.

“Ah, so they're close then?” she replied.

He nodded.

Rippling once more, she tried to direct the Sight into the Journeymen outposts, but they were blocked from entering by powerful warding. The fluid surged back, spilling over onto the floor; only a thin sliver remained along the bottom of the basin.

She finally thought of Gage and his homestead appeared, quite distant in the shallow pool.

“The Crosse home,” Ronove confirmed. “We cannot yet penetrate any closer than this, but my agents have corroborated that he is there.”

A devilish smile slithered across her face. This was just the news she was waiting for.

“All we need to do now is wait,” she said eagerly.

“Most excellent Your Grace,” Ronove concurred as a lesser came into the room. He approached him, whispering into Ronove’s ear before stepping back a few paces.

“It seems that your quarters are now ready as well,” he informed her. “I can take you there now if -”

A sudden boom rattled the chamber, knocking Ronove to the ground. Keli struggled to maintain balance as Agares’ voice echoed throughout the room.

“Keli, my apologies for interrupting you but there is a… situation here that requires your immediate attention.”

“Agares, we need to limit this form of communication! Especially to here! Can you not see to these matters yourself?” she asked sharply, questioning if he could do anything but grovel. “I have only just arrived and -”

“It’s Dajjal,” he cut in, not wanting to waste time mincing words.

Ronove watched Keli vanish in an instant as he rose to his feet, leaving them both alone among the dark rock and stone.

AGARES WAS PACING amongst the dead plants when Keli manifested outside the church.

“Where is he?” she asked hastily.

He stepped out of the blood puddle and quickly led her inside, still barefoot.

They didn't have to wait long. The doors had barely closed when she was addressed.

“Ah you are finally here,” a deep voice rumbled, knocking loose rotten scraps from the timbers above.

“I'd keep you waiting for all eternity if I could,” she answered. “What do you want, filth?”

A giant firestorm erupted in the middle of the church, setting the dark altar alight. It took the shape of a horned skull as she screened her face from the searing heat of the flames.

“Do not continue to toy with me, little girl,” he said with utter malice. “How such a lesser demon, a satyr no less, ever managed to crawl its way out of Hell and even possess a mortal escapes me. Yet, I shall be sure to get those answers. I am the bringer of pain and death, born to make you suffer.”

Keli approached the fires, now swirling in a circle above the altar. What little glass remained in the windows began to melt and flow down the walls as if some enormous candle were weeping.

“I happen to be full of surprises, about as much as you are overblown with hot air, Dajjal,” she replied spitefully. “I intend to keep those secrets to myself as well. Looking at this situation, I see that you are still down there, roasting away in the pits while I’m up here actually getting crap done with our ever growing legions.”

“Forever the peddler of great words and little deeds. I agree that shit is all you have managed to accomplish,” he said with a coldness that could douse any normal fire, yet the hellfire continued to roar.

“You dare speak to me like that? I will show you what I am capable of…” she began.

“No, you unremarkable ass,” he said, cutting her off and making her feel insignificantly small in one fell swoop. “Let me show you.”

A flash of hot silver flew out of the breach with a roar, the spinning razor finding its way across Agares’ neck before gliding back through the portal like a boomerang.

His eyes flashed, widened by an incredible pain. He then crumpled to the floor without a word. There was no blood from the cauterized wound, only death.

“That is but a small taste of my power and it is growing. I will be there soon, Keli,” he warned, “and you are incapable of stopping me. There is nobody there who can.”

A loud crack of thunder shook the entire place and a great gust of wind arose, extinguishing the flames. All went dark, along with part of Keli's confidence.

Hesitantly, she departed back to the Devil's Highway, leaving Agares’ body alone in the middle of her once sacred sanctuary.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A FATEFUL REUNION

GAGE CONTINUED to gawk in disbelief at the ghostly woman who was standing, well in fact floating, in front of him.

“Mom?” he asked, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. It definitely looked like her, but she had youth upon her face. He looked over to Adrienne. “I can’t…”

“Gage,” interrupted Adrienne. “Is that?”

“Yes, it is I,” his mother interrupted mockingly, whilst waving her arms about in a ghostly fashion. “You know, either of you could direct your questions this way. It took me years to work up enough energy to manifest.”

She floated around the two of them, their mouths still agape. “Gage for goodness sake, you’re gonna catch a bunch of flies if you leave it open like that. Now, where was I? Oh yes; manifesting alone takes an incredible amount of power, but then to remotely call a phone by way of the EM spectrum? Outlandish! Yet, I managed to do it and there you stand with your mouths open as if you’ve never even seen a ghost before. I know better than that, or shall I say ‘boo’ to make you feel more at ease?” She shook her head and looked directly at her son. “And Gage, honey, upgrade your phone. There's all sorts of wrong going on in there.”

Adrienne just stood there, staring straight at and through her. She finally closed her lips after the trio stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room for a few more minutes. It was hardly the picture perfect family reunion, but Adrienne finally moved, stepping out from the salt circle while using her shoe to break the solid line.

“My apologies, Mrs. Crosse,” she said. “I… I meant no direct offense when I said I didn’t like ghosts earlier. My name is Adrienne Elkins and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a Journeyman based out of Houston, Texas. I came here with Gage to… wait,” she paused, noticing Gage’s mother was taking all this information in without so much as a blink, “do you even know what a Journeyman is?”

She smiled. “Oh I'm all too familiar with them, yes, and no offense. I’d hate ghosts too if all I encountered were the tormented spirits that you both do so often.”

“How is that possible?” asked Gage as he trudged out of the circle at last, pausing to take in his mother’s face up close. He reached out to rub her cheek but his fingers fell straight through as if nothing were there. Her feel was notably warmer than the other ghosts he had encountered, but still wet. It was an odd feeling that was, to date, unique to spirits.

“Oh Gage, what on God’s green Earth have you done to yourself?” she asked as her eyes rolled their way up his tattoo sleeve. “You look like a -”

“Thug?” he finished for her, looking over to Adrienne who was already giggling. “I told you she would say that.” He glanced back over to his mom mischievously. “You know, I have a lot more of them too,” he teased, raising his eyebrow.

She raised hers in return, indicating who he learned that expression from. “Is that so? Well, good thing you don’t have a brother then, since he would immediately graduate to my favorite right now.”

Adrienne couldn’t help herself and laughed loudly before throwing a hand up to her mouth. She peeked over Gage’s way and found that his still furrowed brow didn’t look all too happy now.

His mom drifted over to the fireplace, looking at its cold hearth. It reminded her of how she had felt the past three years. “I am joking of course,” she said softly, turning back to look at her son. “It is so good to see you again my boy, I can’t even express it. And dear, it is a pleasure to meet you too; Adrienne, was it?”

“Yes ma’am, and the pleasure is all mine,” she said as she took to lighting the fireplace with a lighter out of the satchel.

“My name is Madeline Crosse,” she said, formally introducing herself. “The big lug you’ve brought along as your traveling partner is, as you know, my stubborn son… is he stubborn with you too?”

Adrienne was reluctant to nod, but turned away from Gage and did so meekly.

Madeline laughed. “Not surprised. Somehow, despite Charles’ best efforts, he still ended up in the employ of the Journeymen.” She saw a puzzled look settle on Adrienne’s face as Gage slumped himself onto the sofa, returning his feet to the coffee table.

“Manners,” she said.

Gage shrugged. “Demons and shit tend to pull out your manners and yank ya into the life whether or not ya want it, Mom. So, Dad was a Journeyman?” Gage prodded. “I gotta say, I had no clue.”

“Yes he was,” she said timidly, as if admitting a lie.

Gage bowed his head, “So where is he? I gather from your solo appearance that he’s not here with you.”

“No, he isn’t,” she replied, looking back to the now sputtering hearth, the fire quite pitiful in size. “Sadly, I have no idea where he is. Part of me hoped that he would be here to help explain things, possibly even aid you in a vastly superior capacity than I could, but when I first managed to appear he was nowhere to be found. I was alone and scared, unsure if he was utterly destroyed, sent to Heaven or Hell, or even in the astral plane. For a long time I was unsure I could even contact you. Thank God I did.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, Mom,” Gage said with relief riding heartache.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Adrienne said, still a bit lost on the conversation. “So, Charles Crosse was part of the Journeymen? I have to admit I’ve never heard of that name before.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have. Charles didn't use his real name when he was in the Order, as if a simple name change could protect us from all the things that came our way. He went by the name Landon Merryforth. God awful, isn't it?”

Adrienne was certainly aware of that name. “Maniacal Merryforth?” she asked with the enthusiasm of a elementary school child. Realizing what she said, she looked apologetically at Madeline. “No offense.”

“None taken my dear, yet we are talking about one and the same,” she replied. “Here, take a seat.”

The three of them sat in the living room, Gage and Adrienne taking up the sofa while his mother hovered over the armchair.

“Loopy Landon, Maniacal Merryforth - these and many other nicknames were bestowed on your father after his odd and disturbing behavior came to light. He had taken a liking to – no quite an obsession for – collecting rare and powerful artifacts, along with other paranormal things. How he came to collect them is unknown to me, but I would not be surprised if there was criminal activity involved with some, if not most, of the acquisitions. Only a handful were gifts and so as you can expect, this made us a target for many different groups, none more foul and dangerous than the Noctis.

“But, he wasn’t always so crazy or so completely driven, at least not with trinkets and treasure. He used to be madly in love… with me. Then when you came into the world, the both of us. Let’s see, he joined the Journeyman back in 1979 if I remember correctly. Yes, yes, it was two years after we first met. I had no idea supernatural things even existed before I met him, apart from stories and fairy tales. But he showed me things I could never imagine. Great and terrible things. He and I both believed that it was possible to live a happy, virtually normal life while he was in the Order and for six years we did. Everything was remarkable, almost magical, the best day being July 27, 1985 – the day you were born.”

“I do remember having a great childhood here,” Gage said, reminiscing.

“Indeed all our time in those days was wonderful,” she continued. “This is home and it will always be. However, when you eventually left to live your own life, it was as if your father needed something to pour that extra time and attention into. We had both aged, and I’m not going to say the love I had for him went away. But that said, it was certainly diminished and so it didn’t fulfill him as it once had. So, Charles became consumed again by the unknown and the supernatural, and we all began to suffer for it.”

A childhood memory ran into Gage’s head at that moment – visions of a ruined holiday. “Was this around the same time we all had that huge blow up at Thanksgiving and ended up missing Christmas together for the first time ever?”

She nodded. “Indeed. From then on, we decided it best to try and frame our troubles as ‘traditional’ marital issues, versus the whole otherworldly thing - it was just far easier to accept all around. He had realized, perhaps too late, that what he had become was a shell of his former self and he didn’t want you to have any part of it for fear of the same thing happening to you. But sometimes even the best of intentions are in no way good enough to prepare you for what is to come. Once your father obtained the amulet and chain after his travels to the Middle East, the biggest target imaginable was painted on us.”

“Amulet and chain?” asked Adrienne.

“Two artifacts of immense power, relics from a more ancient time. Charles had extensive notes on them. He ended up delving too deep in a world he understood very little of, despite his many years as a Journeyman. It’s amazing how much we know pales in comparison to the magnitude of what we don’t.”

Gage took a moment to stand up and stretch, shifting his neck from one side to another before cracking his knuckles. “So, this lil’ trinket and collar?” he asked. “Where are they now? Tucked away in some Order vault I imagine. I hear that's where they put the most dangerous and powerful items.” He shot a look over to Adrienne. “See, I do listen sometimes.”

Madeline continued, her voice growing antsy. “Well, they are locked away…”

Gage was curious about that response, so pressed her. “Okay, in which vault?”

His mother’s eyes drifted down to the rug beneath their feet.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE AMULET AND CHAIN

“YOU HAVE GOT to be joking!” Gage blurted out as he dropped himself back onto the sofa.

“I wish I was,” Madeline confirmed. “Ultimately, all of your father’s collection was stored in the cellar. It’s sealed with all sorts of magical protections. No supernatural creatures are able to get down there through the door or burrow into the cellar from the outside. It is essentially a lock box as powerful and secure as any of the Order’s vaults.”

Adrienne was amazed at what she was hearing, having no idea such a thing was even possible. She was intrigued by both the level of skill needed to pull something like that off, but also the hubris of a man who could conceive something like it.

“So all of that… is still down there?” she asked.

“Yes,” Madeline answered. “As time passed, Charles suspected the Noctis would come looking for blood. Toward the end of our time he removed all the barriers around the property and focused entirely on sealing the cellar, even making sure the only way to open the door again was by one of us after death. I suppose that’s why I was still tied here and able to come back as a ghost. Unfinished business and all that.”

“Wait, so you’re suggesting we actually take out -” Gage started to ask with heaps of trepidation.

“Yes,” she said before he finished the sentence.

“But why?” he rebutted. “It’s secured down there and the Noctis are unable to get to it.”

She sighed. “All I can ask you to do is read your father’s notes; they’re also down there. Perhaps that will shed some light on the situation.”

Gage glanced over to an ornate wooden clock sitting on the mantle, an antique his mom had picked up from an estate auction in Aspen when he was five. It seemed that collecting old and ancient things was an unavoidable family trait and he was steadfastly against doing the same himself.

Its hands indicated that an hour and ten minutes had passed and while the conversation and stories were engrossing, he was getting restless.

“Might as well see what we have down there,” he said, eagerly wanting to change pace. He grabbed the coffee table before anyone could say no and effortlessly lifted it out of the way.

“What? Right now?” Adrienne asked.

“Yeah, time’s wasting.”

Madeline floated into an upright position and held out her hand. “Well alrighty then. I told you Adrienne, he's as stubborn as a mule.”

“With the attention span of a fork,” she added.

“With the attention span of a fork,” Gage mocked in a high pitched voice. “A damn manly fork.”

Both women laughed and Madeline pushed the rug away with simple wave, rolling it up neatly at the base of the sofa. She then hovered over the door’s recessed handle, reaching out to grab it, but her hand passed straight through the metal ring.

Adrienne recounted what Madeline had said: the only way to open the door was by one of us after death. She was curious to see that in action and so repositioned herself for a better look.

Madeline tried again, this time closing her eyes and concentrating fully. Her hand clouded, becoming opaque as she grabbed hold of the now glowing handle. A faint whistle coursed through the wood as she pulled up. The door was now open and stale air rushed out to greet the party.

Adrienne's eyes were again wide as she stuttered, “I can’t even… How… How were you able to grab that iron ring?” A thousand more questions popped into her inquisitive mind, balanced with a bit of candor. “It's not possible, or shouldn't be.”

“There are certain things in this house, down there, that allow the rules to be bent if you will. Not broken mind you, as they're absolute.”

She held up the ghostly hand used to open the door and a solid line of ebony ran clear across it. The darkness began to flake away and her form underneath became ethereal once more, but had grown notably dimmer where the metal touched her.

Adrienne replied with wonder, “I’ll never cease to be amazed.”

“Don't ever lose that,” she replied motherly, flexing her hand a couple of times, “as the world is full of many wonders. Despite the darkness, it is an amazing place.”

Gage stepped up to the opening and looked into the dank and musty hole. A ladder plunged down from the side closest to him.

“Anything I should be concerned about down there?” he asked.

“No,” Madeline replied. “At least nothing I can remember.”

“Great. Wish me luck,” he said as he straddled the ladder and slid down into the gray void.

His boots hit the floor with a resounding thud, echoing for what seemed like ages. Years of caked dust rose up around him, forcing him to clear a path with a few swings of his arms.

The cellar was a shambles, a disarrayed assortment of aged notes and endless, unmarked boxes. He couldn’t make out much more since the light streaming in from the open hatch fell off unnaturally fast.

Searching around the entrance for some kind of switch, he soon found a thin cord dangling just behind the ladder and tugged on it.

A set of fluorescent lighting fixtures lining all four walls sprang to life. Dim at first, they slowly grew brighter and filled the room with a pale radiance.

The cavernous space turned out to be deceptively small, no more than twenty feet in any direction from where he stood. However, the light didn’t diminish the number of boxes that had been crammed into the tight space.

Not knowing where to begin the unsurmountable task of sorting through it all, he grabbed a random box that happened to be close by and opened it up.

Inside he found a pair of decrepit leather boots and a bearded hatchet decorated with serrated edging. A hole was in the center of the blade. There was also an ornate helmet crowned with long horns wrapped in cast vines, and a palm sized coin, white with a red cross upon it, which grew into a full size battle shield when held firmly by the handle in one's hand.

Setting that box at the base of the ladder, he reached out for another, finding a hundred or so animal figurines mixed in with stones that had been inscribed with ancient writing. A mummified left hand was buried beneath them all, along with a set of five fatty candles, each with wicks no thicker than a hair.

Gage stared at the wizened appendage for a second. Surely this isn’t… he thought to himself before shaking his head and returning the artifact to the box and closing the lid.

He picked up another; an assortment of peculiar clothing ranging from shirts, pants, and caps were neatly folded inside.

As exciting as looking through all these boxes was, he had no clue what most of the items he was turning up actually did. In fact, some of them were so strange looking that their intended function was a mystery too.

He decided the best bet would be to take some back to the Lodge so Joey could have a look and possibly unlock their secrets. If anyone had the drive to do it, he did. However, for that to have any hopes of succeeding within their lifetime, he would need some notes to serve as a starting point. So, albeit reluctantly, he set about looking for any paperwork he could find.

The next few boxes left him empty handed with respect to the document hunt, but nonetheless they were chock full of mysteries.

It was then that a dark green container, suspiciously alone in a corner, drew his attention.

He strode over and picked it up, finding it surprisingly light for a box of its size. Shaking gently, there was no sound so he assumed it was empty at first but when he managed to pry the tight lid open, he realized that he had struck the mother load.

Reams of parchment were stuffed inside, handwritten notes messily sprawled across dingy yellow pages. Taking the box with him, he moved over to the opposite corner and sat down on an old stone bench that was there. He removed the topmost pages and settled in for some reading.

He noticed a few demonic symbols emblazoned on the sheets in red ink.

“Hello, what do we have here?” he said aloud, rustling the papers to smooth out some of the wrinkles.

The symbols appeared to be examples of various wards, as the pages went into some detail about demon kind in general, kind of like a CliffsNotes version of a lore book.

DEMONIACAL STUDIES by Kultan Sylas

Notes by Landon Merryforth

Journeyman Order I.

January 7, 1979

Demons are evil spirits that some conjecture may be fallen angels who reside in Hell. (I wonder why there are so few mentions of angels in any the lore. It's quite odd, especially if Hell is as populated as we are being told. It’s almost as if they aren’t as common or prevalent as demons are. I must investigate this further.)

Sylas is referring to Hell as the ‘lower plane’ of existence, implying that Heaven is the upper one and that Earth (our universe? Are there more?) is in the middle, sandwiched between two distinct astral planes that some of the other recruits are calling ghost realms. Those sound utterly chilling and not the place one would want to reside in for more than a second, never mind eternity.

JANUARY 14, 1979

In our next session, we learned that demons and their ‘true’ forms are varied and wide, seemingly a conglomeration of animal parts mixed with human elements; horrific when you think on it. That said, a common trait amongst them all seems to be that their bodies are composed entirely of black ectoplasm (a “smoke” if you will) when on Earth, which can sometimes take on the outline of their Hell-bound bodies. When I asked if the smoke was tangible, he stated that it behaved as normal smoke does, although some demons can use telekinesis to interact with Earthly objects when in this form. This smoke, along with a powerful odor of sulphur, are their most recognizable features when here on Earth, almost serving to subvert their disguises in all but the most powerful cases.

On this topic, demonic entities can roam the Earth freely if they escape from Hell (numerous methods exist for such; investigate further) but only if they are contained within a human body. This serves as some kind of anchor to the Earthly realm; they are unable to possess animals, even monkeys, which are not that dissimilar from us genetically. I did not get an answer to my question about monster possession.

JANUARY 21, 1979

For some odd reason Sylas hasn't gone into, demons must be allowed or invited into the host, though it is believed that some of the most powerful demons can forcibly enter a body at will. Our instructor believes this act is incredibly painful for the entity and has lasting effects on both the body and mind of the demon and its host, should they both survive a hostile possession.

Though it sounds sick, I wonder what it feels like to be possessed – the lack of control over one’s own cognitive functions seems quite frightening. It would be like watching yourself perform actions, whether for good or ill, with no ability to stop it.

JANUARY 28, 1979

Today we learned that demons can be exorcised from a host using Latin spells and ejected back to Hell if it departs early and cannot find a new host shortly after retreating, or if a banishment spell or stone is used. I am sure there are other items in the world that can perform an exorcism, but we did not discuss that today.

Demons can be contained in both possessed and demonic forms by iron and with certain symbols. Other symbols can also act as wards to prevent entry into places (interesting topic to investigate further).

Demons can apparently be killed by supernatural weapons or certain beings and should this happen, their death is final; the entity will not return to Hell but instead be consumed by the void.

CRAP, there was nothing here that Gage didn't already know about or have plenty of experience doing himself. He set those particular sheets down on the chilled rock, rifling back through countless other sheets on demon lore. He found something new, pulling out a short scrap of torn paper about a third of a full page; the rest was missing.

NOTES BY LANDON MERRYFORTH

Journeyman Order XVIII.

March 8, 1997

A demonic group calling themselves the Noctis, which is based off the Latin for ‘night,’ have emerged domestically. From all accounts, they appear to be loosely organized and currently pose no significant threat to the Order.

However, it is rare and suspicious for demons to form large groups and even more so that they appear to be at odds with vampire covens up in the northeast, driving them south. I am going to investigate along with a few colleagues. We shall determine if they pose a long term threat.

ANOTHER PAGE, notably weathered, contained a detailed recipe for creating a Hand of Glory, confirming his earlier suspicion that the severed hand he found was one of these macabre tools. He supposed that his dad used it to obtain the items that were stored alongside it in the box, and perhaps most of the materials in the cellar. Of course the extent of his father’s transgressions would never be known, but nevertheless it was upsetting to see.

He put the papers away, discouraged to read his father had resorted to thievery for his collections. Unsure now if he even wanted to continue for fear of finding out more negative things about his dad, he had to force himself to press on. The next document he pulled returned to the subject of demons.

NOTES BY LANDON MERRYFORTH

Journeyman Order XXXI.

October 22, 2010

The Order is in a massive state of disarray. A disastrous event known by all as The Incursion has affected the world, cutting our ranks by nearly a third.

As much as I would like to, I cannot speak anymore on this matter, for my heart is too heavy with grief at the sheer loss of life.

OCTOBER 31, 2010

I may be crazy but I believe the Noctis may actually be looking to open a portal of some kind, to Hell itself no less. This little necklace I obtained from the Middle East may play a part in the tide that would rise out of that foul place and wash over the Earth.

FEBRUARY 14, 2011

I bear grave news. After months of probing, inquiries, and research, my suspicions have been confirmed. Indeed, the Noctis are seeking a way to open a doorway to Hell. Where is unknown, but they are planning to usher in a new age of the Earth: the Demon Age, where they will rule.  I will be returning home to Denver in order to plan what to do next. I cannot help but think the Council does not want this information out.

On the subject of the necklace, as fate would have it both the pendant and its chain are two necessary elements in this diabolical plan. Sadly, I am unaware if any other pieces are needed for these plans to succeed.

APRIL 13, 2012

Gage, if by some remote chance you are reading this…

The Noctis are coming for us and they are out for blood. I am sealing both amulet and chain here in this cellar. Though they are keys to opening the doorway, as such they are also keys to stopping the Noctis dead in their tracks. I have learned that there are at least three, possibly four other items that are necessary for the Noctis to have in order to complete their goal. I unfortunately do not have a list of them, but a long time colleague of mine, Om Citta, has made a vow that he would continue researching to find out.

Now, I have enchanted the container that the objects are stored in so they remain hidden even if a Hell Knight entered this chamber and its eyes fell upon it, but you should be able to find them easily when your heart and mind are in the right place.

This will be the last entry in my notes.

Your mother and I are left with no choice but to stand and fight against the Noctis here, within the walls of our own home. As safe as they have been for us, there is no security left in them against this fate. I intercepted a communication; they are sending a demon named Camio to deal with us and the Order will not be here in time to counterattack.

Gage, my son, I implore you to remember these things if nothing else:

Their leader and the one who gave the order calls herself Onoskelis. Remember her name. Remember that Keli is the one that sentenced your parents to death.

Also, if you can, seek out Om Citta. He should still be anchored at 252 Front Street in New York City, unless some ill fate befalls him.

Don't fret, we won't go down without a fight. I love you, my dear son. We both do. Always have and always will.

Charles Crosse

Dad.

GAGE SAT IN TOTAL SILENCE, dropping the paper from his hands. It fluttered to the floor without a hint of turbulence before coming to rest between his feet. Looking down at the cream parchment, he glared at the last line which was facing back at him. Unable to look away as he kneeled down, he handled the document delicately between his fingers, mulling over what he had just read.

Those final words repeated over and over in his mind.

“I love you too,” was all he could muster.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE HERALD

AFTER A COUPLE HOURS, he climbed back out of the cellar, hauling with him a large box of select artifacts. Slinging it off to the side he descended again, returning no less than three times with yet more containers of strange looking gear, a hefty collection of books, and reams of unsorted notes.

Pulling himself out of the opening, he sat on the edge wiping away a bit of sweat while his feet rested against the rungs.

“Ady,” he said exhaustedly. “Can you help me load these in the truck? Take the light one over there and I’ll be sure to snag the heavier ones in a few. I think there's a ton of stuff here that J would downright have an orgasm over.”

She nodded, taking a gulp of her water and setting the glass down on the end table. “Ha! I bet so,” she replied. “It doesn't take much for that guy to lose himself, does it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he replied snarkily.

With that, she stood up and grabbed the box closest to her, carrying it out toward the front door. Madeline opened it with a wave, leaving the door cracked for when she returned. Her attention then turned to Gage.

“Any luck finding it down there?” she asked.

“No not yet,” he said. “Dad left it a lil’ messy down there and I had no idea you could fit that many boxes into that small a room.”

“I’m not surprised at all,” she agreed, rubbing her hands together. “Organizing was the least of his strong points.”

“I did find some unique ammo and artifacts down there; you weren’t exaggerating ‘bout his obsession. I have zero clue what a lot of that stuff does and Dad’s notes on ‘em are, at best, sparse.”

Madeline paced, worried for a moment that all of this effort were for naught. “What if someone managed to make it in there before I manifested? No, that can’t be possible. It has to be down there.”

Sensing her concern, Gage reassured her. “I’ll take one last look tonight,” he said, mounting the ladder again. “If don't find it now, I'll continue the search in the morning after getting some rest. We’ll get through all the stuff down there… eventually.”

He receded from her nodding head down to the bottom. Placing hands on his hips, he surveyed the area one more time.

“Now if I were an ancient relic of death and destruction, where would I be?” He looked around impatiently, eyes darting from one box to another random container to yet another unmarked box. “Ah fuck!”

Embittered, he punted the tower of boxes just off to his right and a couple of loose coins that were scattered across the top fell, bouncing off the ground with a few light dings.

He was so drained, both physically and mentally, without a clue as to which was winning the battle to wear him down. Propping a hand up on the stack for support, he drooped his weary head.

That's when he noticed an indentation creeping its way out at a ninety-degree angle from the base of the pile, not unlike a grout line. Curious, he kneeled and ran a finger along it. There wasn’t any grout there, but instead a fine gap between the surrounding stone.

With renewed vigor he cleared out the stack directly above the line and in record time, squatted back down. The lines formed a corner of a now uncovered square half a meter wide. In the opposite corner was a tiny divot, which upon closer inspection was a stamped rose.

This has to be it, he thought anxiously.

Shifting his fingers fastidiously around the edges, he searched for a means of getting some kind of grip or leverage but it was to no avail. There was no way those meaty stubs of his were going to fit in between there.

Gage then heard what he thought was a faint chirp, but it disappeared before he could really hone in and listen.

Steadfast, he stood and walked with purpose over to a foot locker brimming with swords. Yielding one of the stout ones, he returned to the square, drew back and plunged the blade into the space in the floor. Leaning hard into it with all his might for leverage, the side of the stonework rose a couple inches but no more. He slumped back off the sword, reserves spent, and the stone settled back into its locked position.

“What was it Dad said? ‘When your heart and mind are in the right place’?” Gage whispered, tapping his forehead. “Right then…”

He took a deep breath to recharge himself and shifted sides, lowering the blade gently into the crack. “Heart and mind, heart and mind, heart and mind…” he repeated aloud as he closed his eyes and slowly pulled down on the pommel. He cracked an eye to take a peek at the progress and saw that the stone moved drastically…

… less distance than it had before.

What the fuck? he thought, releasing his grip which sent the sword shaking. As it did so, a tiny tag wiggled itself loose from underneath the cross guards.

He sat expressionless, staring as the minuscule piece of paper flaunted itself in mid air. Mid-flutter, he snatched it and took an impertinent look. There, written in his dad’s distinct handwriting was the word ‘Excalibur’.

It might as well have sprouted arms and four heads with the look he was giving. “Oh that’s just fuckin’ ironic, isn’t it?” he said, crumpling the label and flinging himself down on his knees. Balling up a fist, he smashed it against the debossed rose, a faint light kindling from the impact.

The light grew to cover the entire square and Gage backed away from it, startled. The solid stone became like gravel then dissolved into powder before his eyes. The motes took on the muted shape of Solomon’s third seal before getting carried away by a soft, unearthly breeze that wafted from the hole.

The alcove was barren except for a mahogany jewelry box which sat in the exact center. It was adorned with baroque, golden floral patterns on each of its eight corners and sat upon four small clawed feet. The lid rose without prompting and settled wide open.

There was the amulet perched atop a wadded silk cloth that shimmered between ephemeral shades of blue and gray, itself crowning a mound of jewels of various shapes, sizes, and colors.

There it waited as he reached out carefully, unwilling or perhaps unable to touch its plain metal surface. His hand quivered a hair’s breath from the shiny disc before an overwhelming urge to set his fingers down drove him to do just that.

As his flesh touched the cool metal it scalded his fingertips, the pain surging straight up his arm and into to his temples. Visions surged into his mind and forcibly commanded all of his senses.

A foul odor of rotten eggs rushed him as he was whooshed away from the cellar. The sting of sparks cascaded over his body, naked under the night sky.

The pendant hung low and heavy upon his neck as he looked to the endless stars above. He took a step on an invisible set of stairs, climbing higher as the chain sweltered and the disc burned brightly. The eighth seal of Solomon flashed brilliantly in front of his eyes. He raised an arm to shield his face from the heat, yet the symbol was gone in an instant, consumed by a swirling vortex of fiery tendrils.

Sparks stung mercilessly again as the cities of humankind burned across the horizon. Packs of hell hounds hunted openly in the streets, flames spitting from underfoot while soot churned like dust devils high into the air. The screams of countless souls rose up in those swirling columns to join monstrous behemoths that loomed overhead, sending great swaths of shadow across the land as the skulls of hundreds poured from the sky.

Gage looked down as the shade swept across him. Two rings appeared out of thin air, landing in his palms. The one on the right was made of platinum entwined gold and on the left, a thin circle of rust was on the verge of falling apart.

The ferrous metal grew thick and weighty, sinking into his skin with an effervescent hiss while his bones were crunched into foul shapes. Black ash leached out of the fissures in his cracked skin, the plumes dancing spherically around his other hand, unaffected as if a barrier protected it.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Gage screamed as the pain and soot overtook him. He felt a pinch at the nape of his neck and was cinched backwards before blacking out.

Awakening on a small island set above a sea of stormy clouds, the roiling vapors stretched out beneath him as far as his eyes could see.

The land abruptly heaved to and fro and Gage became ill from all the rocking. He looked up from the horizon, blazing like a distant sunset, in an attempt to alleviate his motion sickness. It didn't help, as far above another blanket of darkness quaked, sandwiching him in between.

Lightning flung its way from the topmost clouds to the bottom, building in rage until a massive bolt whipped free and tore a path through the ground.

Solid rock was obliterated and fell away into the abyss. Gage soon followed, pummeled by the many fragments of sharp stone. As the distant lightning pulsed, he saw things take shape in the swirling debris.

A golden crown, wreathed in flame, was set upon the silhouette of a man. He turned and …

An army of Journeyman, both supernatural and human, were locked in a great battle against a legion of demons and other foul beasts that defied description as …

Joey turned away, disheartened, while the faint sounds of a woman's scream rose in his ears…

Adrienne?

Gage raised his hands to cover his ears and tumbled end over end before facing into the endless pit of black. Silence arrived as a hint of gray flickered way ahead and he realized at last the bottom could be seen.

However, he was approaching too quickly with no indication of slowing down. As the hard ground raced toward him, he held out his arms in an impotent attempt to brace himself before he struck. The impact was so great his entire body broke.

As blood trickled from his mouth and eyes and his last few breaths escaped in coughs, Gage saw a hooded figure approaching, wielding a sickle in its ancient hand.

It stopped before him and looked down through empty, sunken sockets. Extending a skeletal arm toward Gage’s arm, it snapped his hand clean off just below the wrist.

Gage tried to scream, the loudest he ever had, but no sound came.

The figure placed the end of the sickle against the frayed appendage and they shimmered, the sounds of Gage’s delayed scream echoing as the objects melded together. As the painful cries subsided, Gage watched motionless as Death raised his newly formed scythe above him and came down in one fell swoop.

The gruesome and prophetic flashes subsided and he was left in the gloom with far too little breath. Lying in a heap on the floor he worked to build his capacity back up, eventually setting up on his knees.

The weight of the world seemed to drag his shoulders down and he was drawn down to the thin, spiky chain and round bit of silver that threatened to turn his life upside down. There was a choice that needed to be made, right now.

A large part of him wanted to ignore the problem at hand and just leave.

You know, you could just forget about this tiny trinket here in this dark and dusty hole. Keli and the Noctis, they would all be none the wiser, still struggling to grasp power.

But he continued to stare. The treasure glimmered even though no light was overhead.

Yet, that’s still the problem, isn’t it Gage? Murder. Death. Kill. Repeat. You said it yourself, it's what demons do. It goes on and on and on, whether you leave this glorified piece of tin here or carry it out with you.

But if you do take it, there’s a chance of fucking over the Noctis and their biggest plans, stopping them dead in their tracks.

That brought a loose smile to his face.

And who better to fuck them over than you?

Now convinced, Gage brought the chain over his neck, the necklace coming to rest on the red rose in the center of his chest.

The items seemed to get heavier, as if they were securing themselves in place. A slight buzz then came from them, penetrating his skin like a massage. It felt comforting yet mildly irritating.

Empowered, he rose to his feet and gave the area a final once-over. What he thought were the most interesting items and notes had already been secured in the truck whilst the big prize sat firmly around his neck. He took a last whiff of the chalky air before turning, heading back to the ladder to climb out.

As he took his first steps, deja vu fell upon him, then again as he took another. He continued on up, passing through the warded threshold.

A low rumble rolled in the ground and shook the very foundations as the talisman floated away from his chest, coming to rest in mid air before his eyes.

There it remained while he paused, spreading his arms for balance. “What the -”

Without warning, vivid red spindles erupted from the center of the pendant, spinning high into the late afternoon sky. They coalesced, the clouds themselves groaning and cracking under the onslaught. Forks of intense lightning careened down and out across countless miles and everything that the violent bolts touched vaporized in bursts of shadow and flame.

Then, in an instant, all was gone.

“What the hell was that?” asked Gage, voice peppered with cumbersome gasps. “Getting a lil’ bit weirded out by the deadly laser beams that seems to shoot out of this thing at random!”

“It was a signal,” said Madeline.

Adrienne had returned to Gage’s side, helping him out of the doorway. She turned to Madeline. “To whom?” she asked.

She sighed, her ghostly form especially grave. “My dear, to everyone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE SIGN SEEN AROUND THE WORLD

KELI SAT atop a pillar at the highest point of Bennett Peak, looking out to the west. A hawk flew by, diving down toward the ground in pursuit of its prey. Darkness would arrive within a few hours, although she already felt as if the chill of the night air was on her skin.

Agares was gone, the look on his bare and pained face hung in her waking thoughts. Even closing her eyes could not shield her from that vision. Another of the ancient Greats, a supreme demon of Hell, had been ended in an instant – this time by the hand of Dajjal, who was still trapped in the blistering fires and bound in eternal chains.

How was that even possible? Never before had a demon been able to send an item to Earth from Hell, never mind control it.

Doubt for her fate had entered into her once secure and confident mind. His powers were definitely growing and she began to question herself and her actions. Was she being too lax? Was she too lenient to the throngs? Was she blinded by her own arrogance?

Regardless, she wanted to be like the hawk, now soaring away with a rabbit in its talons. Quick, efficient, and deadly.

As she reflected and the claws of depression threatened to close on her, there was a distant roar like a great beast piercing the stillness. It was accompanied by a scarlet luster, her lengthening shadow indicating that the light was coming from the northeast and it was growing brighter. She turned and what she saw compelled her to rise.

The sky was alight as a barrage of lightning came down to strike the mountaintops, plains, and anything in between. There, at the very center of the monstrous and sudden storm, was a vivid red column that penetrated the heavens. The Herald called out for all to see.

“In Lucifer's name…” she said with her mouth open in awe.

A stray bolt leaped from the distant and dark clouds, striking a forlorn gas station sitting along the desolate highway. The fuel was ignited and the place exploded in a burst of fire, smoke, and dirt. The debris rose high into the air before it rained down around the wreckage.

The pillar stayed for a moment longer, then faded, the broken vestige of clouds the only evidence that something odd was ever there.

That was it: the moment she had been waiting for. Instantly all her doubt was erased, or at least pushed back into the depths of her psyche where it would be harmless, for the time being.

IN A LARGE CONFERENCE room on the uppermost floor of the New York offices, Marcus completed reciting his findings to the Council, tapping the thick stack of papers end first on the glossy tabletop.

The window shades of the corner room had been drawn to keep out the blinding sunlight at this time of day. Around the arched mahogany table sat seven individuals. Five of them were there in person, seated in luxurious leather chairs and the other two were at remote locations, displayed on two-way mirrors that had been set in place of their empty seats.

They all took to murmuring amongst themselves, voices raising high and low, all but relegating Marcus to the status of a wallflower.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, following a throat clearing cough; protocols be damned during a time like this. “Do we call an Assembly for the matter at hand? What do you say to this?”

The supernatural members of the Council stared back at him, unblinking. Tensions had certainly increased between the supernaturals of the world and humans in recent years, who some viewed as prideful. In a way they were right, such pride from a human archmage leading to the most devastating event in Journeyman history just five years earlier. As such, humans found themselves outnumbered in the current iteration of the Council.

“This shouldn't be up for debate,” Marcus continued sternly, placing his own personal feelings aside but unable to shake the notion that he was still talking to the walls. “You've heard and even seen the evidence. We need to act…now.”

“We shall be the judge of such things, Mr. Sheridan,” said Fenran pointedly, an elf from the rolling greens of Ireland. His high swept ears were tucked up beneath a brown cap and a pair of spindly elbows jutted out from Earthen robes, planted firmly on the table. The tips of his thin fingers rapped together annoyingly.

Another voice came from across the table, somewhat tinny as it passed through the glass. “An Assembly of this magnitude hasn't been called since the days of the Incursion,” stated a haughty, beast-like creature with coarse burgundy hair. Behind his goat-like horns, snow fell over evergreen trees growing amongst high mountain peaks.

“Yes, Tyrol” confirmed Drogir as he sat upright with membranous wings folded behind himself like a cape. “We mustn’t be hasty and cause a panic where none is warranted.”

Marcus let go of his paperwork, simply stunned. Trying to calm himself by twisting the ear bar piercing in his left ear, he remained astonished by the hurdles being faced. “Panic? How about being well prepared; what more do you want?” he asked with desperation, pointing toward the conference room door behind him. “Would you have the Noctis march right up and knock on that very door, asking to come in?”

“Don't be silly, Marcus,” urged the calming human voice of Jane Carter. Though stern in character and carrying a corresponding amount in appearance, she garnered a great deal of respect from her fellow Councilors and the Journeymen alike. She did not have time today for such an obvious pissing match, turning her attention to the naysayers. “He is right you know, despite your reluctance to believe it.”

Fenran shot her a slow and deliberate stare down the bridge of his nose. If had been wearing glasses, he would've been peering pompously over the rims.

“Agreed,” Councilor Timothy Randall chimed in, adding his support. Like Jane, he was one of the three humans on the Council, the last being Allete Popov, who was away for personal reasons in her native Bulgaria. In his late forties, Timothy was quite the gentlemen who respected the seat he held. The thought of using it for ill purposes or to let the power go to his head never crossed his mind. The very notion of it was offensive to him and he found himself disappointed by the others.

“Of course you humans would be agreeable with each other’s views,” Fenran finally said.

“You humans?” Jane repeated, taking offense. “Lest you forget Fenran that we are all on this Earth together and face the same enemy.”

Fenran waved his hand dismissively in reply. “Humans,” he said conceitedly, “again pretending they know all in the matters of the worlds.”

“If you both are finished, I was not. We have also received a communique from England,” Timothy resumed, “from one of our own no less: a Mr. Henry Abington.”

“He was found wandering the streets of Grimsargh, alone,” cut in Quileth, a human-like creature with the features of a tiger. His saucer shaped eyes looked directly over to his gargoyle colleague before continuing. “You of all here should know that feeling, Drogir. From what we hear, he sustained grave injuries from his encounter with this self-proclaimed Noctis ‘leader’ as she calls herself. We should definitely bring him here after he has recuperated enough for travel and find out what he knows. In the meantime, we -”

Quileth was interrupted by the deafening scream of klaxons and the strobing of alternating white and orange lights. Those seated in the room stood immediately, ready to listen to the upcoming announcement while the two that were offsite departed.

They were not left waiting for long.

“Alert!” came a voice over the intercoms. “Alert! Level Four anomaly detected.”

Marcus smirked, making sure that Fenran saw him do so. “Well, there's your knock.”

KELI HAD MADE her way back into the caverns and was speaking to Ronove.

“I think it's about we time paid Gage a visit,” Keli said confidently, suddenly pausing as if a great idea entered her thoughts. “But, I think we should stop by Durango on the way, for a little bit of housekeeping. This seems like the perfect opportunity for a certain Hell Knight to put his money where his ever-complaining mouth is.”

Ronove raised his lips into an accursed smile before bowing his head in agreement, vanishing in a snap of air.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE BATTLE OF DURANGO

BAILEY, Evans, and Miller stood in front of the congregation of monsters, the last light of dusk creeping in through the gaps of the rough hewn walls. There were of course vampires present, hidden in the growing shadows, along with beast shifters, kappas, and even a rogue mountain troll.

The floor was covered in dirt and a smattering of hay; the earthiness of the smell underscoring the importance of this world to those in attendance. Dim lanterns hung randomly around the different levels and from the loft, casting an inviting warmth around the interior.

These vampires, proud and tall, were the leaders of an esteemed triad of Houses, rebels against demon kind and their rise to power.

“Thank you all for coming,” the tallest of the three said. It was Bailey, dressed in casual clothes like the others, dirtied from lack of washing. “We know that times are not how they used to be.”

“Yes,” added Miller. “Where things were once balanced, the scales have now tipped. Sadly, they've not done so in our favor. It has become far more dangerous for those of us who choose not to align with the demons. Far more… deadly.”

The crowd rumbled in agreement; their ears and horns and hair all nodding.

“So why run?” asked a kappa, water sloshing around awkwardly in the divot on its head. “Why not just join them?”

Everyone got quiet and looked forward.

The last of the three leaders stepped up as the other two parted to each side. Evans was the oldest of them all, having turned Miller and Bailey himself and as their original coven grew, he gave them an opportunity to lead their own. They had done so quite successfully.

“Nothing is forcing you not to join them, river child. Any species or member thereof is free to do what they will in the times ahead – at their own risk or peril. However, it has been decided that all vampires will not bow or take direction from the demons. They are not even of this world and cannot, in our eyes, be trusted with the fate of it.”

Many in the crowd agreed but some less so. Vampires would not bow or take orders yet seemed to give them quite well.

Miller paced in front of the others, noting the mood. He wore a hopeful look on his face while he gestured with his fist. “There are more of us; groups just like this one forming and growing to combat this darkness.”

It was an astounding sight made more so by the words being spoken. Foul creatures from every corner of the world referring to a threat that was darker than themselves. In this, they weren't that different from the Journeymen with their very way of life and existence in jeopardy.

Miller continued, “They are the very concept of darkness incarnate. Do not be fooled by their words or ploys or promises. They will use you until your need is spent, then dispose of you like the trash they really think you are.”

“We can all agree that the demons are untrustworthy, but what makes us trust you any more?” asked a voice from the crowd. He was a shifter, able to transform at will into the shape of any creature he had consumed.

Bailey stepped up to answer.

“You don't have any guarantees, other than our word. Plus, think of it this way: the demons use humans as hosts, parading around in them like some kind of suit.”

The crowd chattered at the unsavoriness of the idea.

“We feed on humans,” he continued, looking to the shifters. “Well, for the most part. I know some of you have an affinity for wild bears. But in any case, not only do demons want to exterminate us monsters, those of us that do fight them, or do nothing, or even join their ranks are going to be hit with the harsh reality of dwindling food supplies. To me that's hardly an ideal world to live in.”

A passing glance scanned over the crowd and he could tell by their expressions they were swayed by his words.

“I am not going to lie to you: this will not be an easy fight,” Bailey admitted. “The demons have vast numbers on their side and each victory for us is just a single step on a very long road to victory.”

The crowd was hushed except for the sounds of deep breathing.

Then came the match…

“Death!”

“Yes!” Evans encouraged.

That ignited the inferno…

“DEATH TO THE DEMONS!”

“That's it!” Evans shouted, raising his arms triumphantly amongst the chanting. “We will continue to fight… with every claw, every bite, every single damn breath! For as long as we do, they have not won and we will still be free!” Bailey and Miller joined him amongst the sounds of intense applause. Finally, their efforts were paying off.

A faint burst of noise like far of firecrackers barely rose over the chorus of cheers.

Evans was concerned, thinking he had heard something out of the ordinary. He stepped forward. The barn doors flickered with a distant light.

Another boom came up and over the boisterous crowd, much louder than the last one. The trio looked to each other, wondering if the sounds of screams were mixed in amongst the noise.

The applause died down as the structure began to tremble, followed by yet another earsplitting roar.

By now Evans and Bailey had reached the doors, peering through the warped gaps before flinging them open. Miller walked up behind them both and his mouth fell open as the other’s had already done, his fangs extending as he curled his lips into a snarl.

There on the hill fronting the farmhouse stood an imposing figure, dressed in obsidian. The dark and menacing flames rose from the burning home and spread out like wings of shadow on each side of him.

Baal had come.

Damn you, demon, Miller thought, distressed. How did you even manage to breach the –

Like a flash he looked to the sides of the barn, behind the tall copses of bushes and grass. His suspicions were immediately confirmed: the wards had been smashed in with a hatchet; their power negated. The guilty, rusted blade was still embedded in one of the protection sigils as if to mock their efforts.

“Traitors!” Miller spat.

“Well,” replied Evans as his fangs and claws grew out to their full length, “time to put our money where our mouths are.”

The tone of his voice was confident, yet worry clung to his words. It was as if they needed more time to prepare, yet no more would be given.

Baal was not there to play games or parlay. He held his great sword aloft as a glowing beacon, pointing it at the barn and the monsters that were gathered inside.

“Annihilate them,” he commanded, saying nothing more. By his order, a dark tide swelled over and rushed down the hill. Within it, demons charged forward and were joined by werewolves and possibly a wendigo; it was moving so fast that it was barely a streak against the dark surroundings.

The demons had brought with them destruction runes of fire and ice, brandishing the magical stones before launching them at their enemies. The front of the barn, with its protections defaced, erupted into a dazzling and deadly display of blistering and frost-bound bombs.

Luckily for the monsters, some of the sigils on the roof were still intact and their defensive charms were activated. A large part of the blitz ricocheted back on the demons, killing a swath of them. Their mangled bodies tumbled down the hill, coming to rest at the bottom where they were trampled into the damp soil by those still drawing breath.

Ten men came screaming out of the barn, kicking off high into the air. Half of them extended their teeth and claws, now equipped to lacerate demonic flesh. Bones snapped in the others, contorting into the monstrous shapes of boars and bears, now poised to mutilate their canine brethren.

The shifters and vampires raced uphill side by side, clashing with the oncoming pack of werewolves and demons; the sounds that filled the dark skies when they met were brutal, laced with suffering and lament.

Meanwhile inside the barn, a bale of kappa wove water spells on the fire and the flames started to shrink.

The mountain troll took the distracted opportunity and moved in from behind, snatching up two of them in its gigantic hands, revealing himself as the treacherous snake. He wasted no time in dispensing with them, cruelly pouring the water from their heads down his gullet before biting clean through their reptilian necks. His thick and crushing teeth made sure their deaths were not painless.

The rest of the group spun around to assail the troll. Surrounding it and extending their scaly arms in a rough circle, they chanted in Japanese while avoiding the powerful swings that were striking the ground around them. Hay flew around like a blizzard and seconds later, a faint blue circle pushed out from the kappa to enclose the troll’s feet.

Almost immediately the beast gagged, reaching for his neck that swiftly filled with arid breath. The chanting was able to continue uninterrupted and water began to gush out from every pore, floating as if weightless and drawing out into long strands. The lances of water grew with each passing second. He must've been nearly drained when nothing but a flaking husk was left standing.

His dry and wrinkled eyes struggled to see the watery filaments as they turned in toward his torso. The glowing circle rose up from his feet to instantly freeze them into icy lances.

That's when the kappa’s chanting ended and the troll was impaled where he stood. His shrunken body collapsed with a soft whoosh. Their nemesis out of the way, they returned to battling the flames consuming the barn.

Bailey and Miller watched as the skirmish continued in front of them. Countless were dead on both sides, the ground made darker than the night around it.

“This is unbeliev –” said Bailey, his words cut off by a rush of air that raced between them.

“What was that, Bailey?” Miller asked, his attention still on the battle ahead.

“Hayden…” Bailey whispered, looking down at his waist; it was stained red from a huge gash across the belly button. He tried to stop the flow of blood, but it was too much.

Miller twisted around at the odd mention of his first name, catching his kin falling to his knees. Blood soaked the entirety of his lower body and he was fast fading. By the time Miller reached him, he was dead.

“What…?” he asked hysterically.” What on earth is this?” A wound, even one this extensive, shouldn't have killed Bailey. His vampiric healing would have kicked into high gear but something stopped that from happening. Instinctively, Miller reached out to the gash to investigate, but stopped just short of it. A faint yellow glow twinkled along the outer edges. This was no normal cut at all.

There was a growl from something that had approached behind him, breathing fast and heavy. Its hot breath caressed the hairs on the back of his neck.

Ah fuck, it's you, Miller thought, closing his eyes briefly.

He opened them as he turned, catching a glimpse of a long, serpentine tongue between razor sharp teeth, just before the wendigo closed them down over his face. All went painfully dark.

Further up toward the hill, Evans stood proudly in front of the armored fiend approaching him, his claws scraping against each other like nails on a chalkboard.

“What's the occasion, demon?” he asked mockingly, unimpressed by the garish outfit that was being paraded in front of him. “All Hallows Eve isn't for a month yet.”

“My, such audacity in the face of your betters,” Baal said, unfazed by the vampire’s nattering. He continued his gradual and deliberate advance as they began to circle each other cautiously.

“Betters?” Evans repeated with distaste. “In whose book?”

“The only one that matters…”

Baal was suddenly close to him; way too close.

“… MINE!”

His sword came down with a sharp whistle and would have sliced Evans in two, but the vampire happened to be faster, nimbly dashing out of the way just in the nick of time. The blade struck the dirt with a mighty clang, lodging itself into the ground.

Evans took a chance to strike. He looped around and swiped across the back of Baal’s armor, his claws digging into that dark shell. It was nowhere near deep enough.

This fight was not going to be easy.

Baal yanked his sword out of the ground and lunged toward Evans, flames blazing from beneath his helm.

Four werewolves raced across the clearing and through the fighting crowds, bearing a large golden vase between them. It was adorned with a fiery leaf motif and strange, curled symbols, sitting within a middle of rickety wooden frame.

They made haste for the barn, tearing through what little resistance remained inside and placed the container on the ground. One of the wolves stepped up to the vase, its golden surface gleaming in the firelight. The rest backed away as he pulled off the lid.

“Aistadeaa,” said the wolf. It was the last thing he or any of the others would do.

Back outside, Baal kicked Evans to the ground and looked down his nose at the pathetic vamp, soiled with muck and a battered in face. He shifted in his busted armor, placing the full weight of his boot on Evans’ chest.

As fun as all this was, the time for play had passed. He raised his sword for the kill, ready to cut that ugly head off that marred body, but before he could bring it down, a massive explosion ripped through the barn. The shockwave wasn't far behind and it flung him away like a rag doll.

Evans looked over to the barn, or what was left of it, his head stuffed full of intense pressure and ringing.

A great shadow emerged from the tempest of fire. It was difficult to make out in the swirling torrent, but its massive wings and thick, swept back horns were unmistakable. The sight of that alone was enough to widen his eyes in fear. This was not a fight Evans could win even at full strength. So bruised and battered, he limped off into the woods alone – away from the fight, the noises of death, and the light.

Baal got to his feet a few minutes later and noticed he was by himself. Swearing under his breath, a distinct cry pierced the silence; everything else had fallen still and afraid.

He looked to the decimated structure, a mere scattering of planks amongst a curtain of flame. Though his sword was in hand, a chill moved down his own spine when he saw it: the infernal jinn, Ifrit, was loose upon the Earth.

“Foolish mutts!” he yelled. “Do you know what you've done?” The question went unanswered as all things in the barn had perished.

This was of no surprise, for this wasn't a moderate weapon, nor someone's tamed pet. It was a force of nature far worse than any wendigo or group thereof. Everyone and everything within a mile had been placed under a death sentence.

Baal cursed the ineptitude of Keli and those following that lesser she-beast for allowing such a stupendous misstep to happen.

He had little choice but to face it; running was a coward’s move. Approaching the wicked creature and pointing his sword at it, he spoke sternly. “I am Baal, Lord unto Hell and Knight in service to Lucifer the Great. Foul creature, I command you to retreat back to your confines. Now.”

There was a long period of silence.

“What is your answer?” he demanded.

A great fireball made its way toward him. Baal extended his free hand and a shield appeared in it, deflecting the energy on its skull façade. The land around him burned to cinder.

He lowered the shield. “So be it!”

Baal held his sword aloft and it became a frosty blue. He charged and the sharp tongue of ice was quick to chew its way into the beast’s belly. The jinn halted, burning from the freezing cold spreading out from the wound.

The exchanges continued, back and forth, potholing the earth and their bodies alike. Before long the entire area was smote to ruin.

The Ifrit threw Baal to the ground and held him down as it laid upon him, the heat conducting through the dark armor with ease. As his body burned, it belched molten saliva into his face, bubbling the host’s skin into a disgusting, peeling mess.

With what strength that remained, Baal released his sword and shut his eyes, commanding the blade to fly through the beast’s skull. It was an order it gladly followed.

As the sword pierced the Ifrit, the end had come. Without releasing its grasp, the Ifrit slumped forward, shaking violently as energy built. Finally, its body could not contain anymore and it exploded violently, the both of them engulfed in a massive surge. Fire fell from the sky like rain, relegating themselves and a significant portion of Durango to memory.

THE MOON BLANKETED itself in the warmth of the black smoke as Keli walked amidst the smoldering devastation that was once Durango. Motes of char entwined with floating embers moved without a care over the what remained of the dead.

She stopped just ahead of two black spires sticking precariously out of the gray powder and bent over to pick them up. Out of the ash she pulled Baal’s lofty helm. It was empty. The host’s body had been obliterated, mixed in amongst the dusty remnants and his demonic form fared no better, since carried away by the wind.

Baal was no more. It seems her idea of stopping by Durango for a bit of housekeeping took care of two birds with one massive, molten stone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AT LAST

“YOU’LL HAVE to leave very soon,” Madeline said sternly to Gage. “There is no telling who, or what, saw that beacon but they will be on their way here.”

“Did you know that the signal would be sent?” asked Gage amidst heavy breaths.

“No,” she replied. “I had assumed they would remain dormant until actually used. Obviously that didn't happen.”

“Used?” Adrienne asked, her curiosity piqued. “How so?”

“There’s not a lot of time to go into that right now,” she answered. “It’s… complicated. You have Charles’ notes on it and from what you’ve told me about your friend Joey, he does a great job at figuring things out.” Her eyes locked back onto her son’s. “I implore you to leave… soon. You have no idea what is coming for you, baby.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, trying to place his hands on her shoulders. They passed straight through. Oh how he wished he could actually touch her right now. Hug her dearly. “We’ll get the truck packed up now with the rest of our stuff and leave at first light.”

Madeline nodded. “Alright,” she said, voice breaking.

“I love you Mom,” he said. “Seeing you again was much needed.”

“You too, Gage. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. I know that your father would be too if he were here.”

She raised a hand, the fainter one that she had used to open the cellar door, and closed her eyes. A balmy draft wrapped itself around Gage, its tender heat rising from his feet up his entire body. He felt motivated to return the gesture and to his surprise was able to push against her soft skin with his own fingers for a brief moment before his hand fell through the mist.

A tear pooled at the corner of Adrienne’s eye and she wiped it away before it had a chance to trickle down her cheek.

“Well,” said Madeline. “I’ll let you two get to it. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be floating around. Otherwise, I will see you both off first thing in the morning.” She stepped back a few paces before fading away, leaving Adrienne and Gage alone in the room.

Each of their hands found its way into the other’s and they brought their foreheads together.

“I’ll take the rest of these boxes and see if there’s anything else we can go ahead and pack up in the ol’ girl,” said Gage as he rubbed his nose on Adrienne’s. “It shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll see you upstairs afterwards?”

She moved her hands up around his neck and gave him a kiss, savoring in the prickly goodness of his beard. “Okay then,” she whispered. “I’ll see you up there soon. I’m going to see about grabbing us something to munch on.”

Gage smiled profusely as he pulled himself away, moving toward the stairs. “I have something that can take care of that, too. Just in case you turn up empty handed.”

AS HE THOUGHT, there wasn’t much left to pack up other than a few clothes and toiletries. Gage strode back into the bedroom and noticed that Adrienne wasn’t there yet. She was probably still on the hunt for something to eat.

He took the opportunity to plop himself down on the edge of the bed, wondering if he had made the right decision to come here. Not one to doubt himself, a shade of skepticism had entered his mind now that an extremely powerful relic dangled around his neck. Letting out a lengthy sigh he bent over, the amulet tucked tightly between his clasped hands. It gave off an enticing warmth and for the first time in his life, he contemplated praying.

“Well,” he said aloud into the empty room. “I’m not even sure I believe you exist, but I’ll give this a go. Ironic isn’t it? Here in a world of demons and monsters, the guy that slays them has doubts about your existence.

“But I'm wondering, yet again, if it was the right choice coming here. Especially with her. I need answers, else I don’t think I will ever be able to get rid of this shred of doubt that keeps lingering. I mean don’t get me wrong, things seem to be going great, but now the weight of the world is on my shoulders, quite literally strung around my neck, and I don’t know if I am remotely up to the task.”

He opened his hands and the silver disc stared blankly at him from his calloused palms.

“How is it such a small thing can be the key to something so overwhelmingly large as the end of the world?” he pondered.

As he sat there contemplating the words he spoken to himself, an inner voice resounded in his skull. It was distant at first, like a shade of a whisper, but before long was booming, filling his body with both vigor and contentment. Oddly, it was the same voice that always spoke to him since the day he first could, yet it felt different… more paternal.

“Gage, you must always take positive inventory on what you have and what’ve done in your life. No matter what, don't get bogged down in the overwhelming and nagging little details as that can drive even the sanest man to throw himself over a cliff.” There was a brief pause. “And let’s face it, you’re far from the sanest man on the planet. After all, you fight demons and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night as your career. Hardly the stuff of sanity… it's the stuff of legend.”

Gage chuckled a bit. “There's no denying that fact. But, I still don’t know.”

The voice continued, “Far too often there are times we find ourselves down and out, lonely whilst circling a pit of despair, thinking about nothing but all of the insurmountable things that have gone wrong or questioning every decision we made to evaluate if it was the right one: Should I have slayed that creature? What about the repercussions of leaving that one alive? Should I have come back home…

“Don't do it. Focus instead on the positive, going with what your gut or your heart tells you, and most importantly believe in yourself. There is certainly no shortage of good across your thirty short years; the lives you've saved alone are worthy of record.”

It dawned on him then that he had frankly lost count of the sheer number of lives he'd saved over the last three years. Each and every one of those souls would have been lost had it not been for him or his teammates.

“Life’s direction and the direction of the things churning within it can change in an instant. We win things, we lose things, we learn from those things. Use that gained knowledge and the impact of the lives you have kept safe on this Earth and use it to carry yourself through the day, months, and years ahead.”

Gage was still dubious. “But how do I know if I'm good eno -”

“Gage, just stop thinking about it. Simply immerse yourself in the depth of the world. You ask yourself now if you have made the right choice. You have, if only because it was a choice you made for yourself. You also wonder if you are good enough for the task at hand. Only in situations where we place ourselves outside our comfort levels can we discover who we truly are. Only when we challenge ourselves can we grow into who we are meant to be…”

Gage felt compelled to nod his head in agreement as the words rang resoundingly true to him. The voice diminished, its departure leaving his body colder as the muted ticking of the wall clock became louder.

“Immerse yourself in the depth of the world, huh?” he repeated softly.

In his head, thoughts swirled like ink in water and Adrienne's supple form solidified, walking slowly down a long highway. She was alone, the sun setting in a dazzling display of churning light and cloud before her. In the distance, the smoky figure of a man loomed against the brightness and as she continued toward him, he began to stride toward her. Step by slow step he advanced and soon Gage’s distinct features crystallized from the roiling dark.

Soundless, he stood in front of her before taking her close for an embrace. They held each other for a moment, locking hands together before continuing into the setting sun. As they grew distant on the horizon, their forms merged and became one with the sunset and the land.

“Yes indeed,” he said. “I made the right decision. Well, we did. Love may certainly bring with it pain but together we can, and shall, endure the challenges ahead.”

He sat for a moment longer before a modest whiff of a bad odor caught in his nose. Lifting an arm, he took a breath and discovered his deodorant was on the verge of giving out. It was likely the pendant’s doing, as he’d felt strangely feverish ever since putting it on.

After the day’s crazy events and the fact Adrienne wasn't back yet, he decided that a shower was certainly in order. Pushing himself up off the bed, he walked over to the linen closet, collected a towel from middle shelf and made his way into the bathroom.

ADRIENNE WENT BACK upstairs empty handed. It seemed that during the excitement of the day they had forgotten to get any fresh food supplies. She supposed that finding ghosts of dead relatives did tend to shift one's priorities. Eating the MREs Charlie had stockpiled in the cellar wasn't an option, even though they had over twenty delicious years of shelf life left. Her stomach however didn’t care and still grumbled in admonishment.

As she entered the bedroom, the dim light from the bathroom fan caught her attention as it fell out into the surrounding darkness. She walked toward it and the sound of running water could be heard whilst steam wafted out of the slightly open door.

Pushing it open, she peeked inside, watching keenly as the warm drops rained on Gage’s ever impressive shoulders, rolling along every line to begin their long journey down to the drain. She focused on the divot formed between his thick traps, teeth curling her lower lip while those drenched wing tattoos funneled the water to the center. The stream flowed all the way down the muscular path until it had no choice but to spill over that glorious behind. Jesus, she had never in her life been envious of water but there's a first time for everything. Tonight she wanted to be it in such a bad, bad way.

Slowly, Gage turned and ran his fingers through that untamed mop of hair. He opened his eyes and spotted Adrienne in the hallway. He locked in and without missing a beat reached for a sliver of years-old soap, still fragrant, and rubbed his chest. The pomegranate suds traced their way over his front, rising and falling on each one of his abs and down to his hand, resting around his full, aching self.

“Well,” he said deeply. “You want in?”

He did not need to repeat himself.

In an instant she was in the shower, being caressed by the same water she was jealous of not ten seconds before. She found herself kneeling in front of him again, the view just as marvelous as the day she first saw it. The v-lines of his abs pointed her in the right direction as she grabbed hold with both hands.

He stepped forward and brought himself to her lips, teasing her with a little taste before she wrapped her lips around his meaty head and went to work. Gage was noticeably aroused, flowing onto her lips with each suck. On she went, drawing more out of him than ever before and his legs started to buckle. After a few more long licks and a kiss on the palmful of man she held, she rose, holding firm while she leaned forward to nibble his ear. “Now it’s my turn,” she whispered. A hot breath went into his ear, nearly toppling that sturdy frame to the floor. “Does the beast want in, sir?”

A deep growl sent a tremor down her spine.

She reached over to the faucet and cranked it hotter. Steam began to fill the shower, rising along with her body as he lifted her in his arms and nudged her against the tile. His broad back expanded like a cobra to shield her from the falling water, allowing the monster to generously tease between her legs. Eagerly she locked her legs around his narrow waist while he effortlessly rolled on a sleeve. She looked ahead into focused green, his head crowned with mist.

Unwavering in his return stare, an eyebrow arched its way up as he spoke. “Time to feed the beast.”

That's all she needed to hear; those words, that voice, this man. Her arms cradled his thick neck while her uncontrollable wetness mingled with his shaft. She caught scent of his musk as they became one again and she had no choice but to scream.

He groaned, his tone falling with each inch that passed through her door. Heaven was again on Earth and it was the age of Gage and Adrienne.

Grabbing her with one arm he brought her in closer, moving away from the wall to hold her in mid air as she rode. She repeatedly took it all, head to base while her thighs tightened around him.

They went harder.

She began to churn along with his thrusts and like a series of waves, each movement built upon the last.

Harder.

The thrill was amazingly high. As her eyes rolled back she spilled herself around him, but did not stop.

Harder.

She could not stop.

Harder.

The luxurious sensations multiplied. The pleasure was contagious and Gage reached the point of no return, rushing right over the line.

Unable to hold back, he pulled himself out and set her down gently. It was taking every fiber of his being not to explode as she stood in front of him. They fervidly began to kiss as he propped up on her torso, reaching down to yank off the sheath. The feeling of freeing all twelve abundant inches from that latex prison was oh so much to handle.

As they continued to taste each other and rub himself between their slippery bodies, he lost control. Arching his back and grabbing hold with both hands, he unleashed a loud groan while he indiscriminately glazed the two of them, the surrounding tiles and everything in between.

Quivering under the pressures of intense joy, his legs cramped and he lost balance for a second, sending him and Adrienne back against the shower wall.

She bumped her head and let out a soft laugh, looking over the fashionable ‘gel’ that glowed against his dark hair. Rubbing her head, she noted that she was wearing it as well. A lot of it.

“Well, I guess that means mission accomplished?” she asked, holding a hand out under the water stream.

Gage let out a couple slow breaths, looking down at his satisfied self before nodding. “Oh yeah,” he barely got out.

“I guess we should actually take a proper shower now,” she said, turning the temperature down a touch. As she drew her hand back, Gage grabbed hold. She was always so silky.

“I love you, gorgeous. Like, I really do.” His green eyes shone like emeralds. “I have for quite some time… so much that you don’t even know.”

She took a step toward him and nuzzled his nose. “I bet I do know.”

“Nope, you can't. Because I don’t even know the limits of how much I have in my heart for you. Now let’s clean up, this hair gel smells like jizz.”

IT WAS quiet in the bedroom as they laid naked under the covers, the warmth of their bodies and the shower made for a soothing cocoon to entangle oneself in.

“I can’t believe you're mine,” Gage whispered while shifting to give her a bit more room to come closer.

“Believe it mister,” she said, burrowing her head into her favorite spot. The space between his chest and neck welcomed her with that rousing bouquet. She reached down and traced a finger from the bottom of his balls all the way along his soft member before she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

As she did, Gage turned and kissed her on her head. He had an arm wrapped firmly around her, never planning to let go from this day forward. At last, something in this crazy ass world they lived in went right. Neither were now alone, their separate journeys becoming one and the same. Soon he found himself strolling into slumber land a happy man, the most content he had been in ages.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE COMING OF THE TIDE

THE HOMESTEAD SAT QUIETLY amidst the picturesque scene of country heaven. The moon loomed large overhead, marking midnight across the sparse clouds and bathing the landscape in a cool blue hue.

Bang!

The sudden sound pierced the tranquil night and rumbled over the country hills, echoing far into the distance as the bleating of spooked livestock rose to join it in chorus.

Gage was jolted out of his restful sleep and rose with a start. By instinct he reached over to the nightstand to grab his gun, racking the slide without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Bang! Bang!

The sound of heavy metal beating hard against wood continued to fill the house with each strike. Whatever it was, wanted inside, badly.

“Adrienne,” he said, prodding her with an elbow to her still sleeping shoulder. “Get up. Now.”

She opened her groggy eyes, struggling to hold onto the luscious dream she was having.

“What is it, baby?” she whispered, still partially under the sandman’s spell.

The loud strikes continued, joined now by the distinct chittering and cracking of wood.

“We have company.”

With those three words, underscored with another loud boom, she snapped out of her lethargic trance and within a few seconds they were both up on their feet.

“Already?” she asked as she pulled on some underwear and an oversized nightshirt. “I expected us to be on the road before any trouble showed up.”

“Seems so,” he replied, donning a pair of sweatpants. “They must’ve had assets pretty close by. Dammit.” He took in a long breath to calm his nerves. “So, you ready to check this out?

She bent down and snagged her silver dagger off of her belt, giving him a nod.

“Let’s go.”

Gage carefully led the way out of the bedroom and down the upstairs hall. Immediately, they were assaulted by the oppressive smell of sulfur which unrelentingly bore down upon their senses. Undeterred, they continued toward the top of the stairwell with arms folded across their noses. There Madeline joined them, shimmering into view.

“Demons I gather?” Gage asked her, knowing full well what the foul odor meant.

“Yes,” she replied. “They've taken male hosts; probably possessed some of the neighbors from up the street. By the looks of them, it’s the Donnellys. I never much cared for them, always so weird and untoward. So, it’s no surprise seeing they’ve willingly let demons inside.”

“How many are there. A lot?” he asked, hoping the answer was small.

“No, not yet anyway. I saw three - the two Donnelly boys are the ones banging away at the front door and Lawrence, their father, is sneaking around the back.”

Gage shot Adrienne a confident look as he rubbed the back of his neck with his spare hand. “Sounds like nothing we haven't been able to handle before.” As he rubbed, he noted that he was still abnormally hot, the brief time spent rubbing causing his palms to sweat.

She brandished her blade, its embossed sigils catching the dim light as she passed him a wink. “Yup.”

Madeline was so pleased by what she saw. She longed for the day that Gage, ever the loner, broke down the walls he had built up around himself. It seemed that day had finally arrived. It was enough to warm this mother’s heart, if it were still beating of course. How times had certainly changed for the Crosse family.

“You two take care,” she said lovingly, “and I'll see you downstairs shortly.”

She vanished in an instant while the two of them pressed on and crept downstairs together.

The crashing grew more frequent with each step they descended, reaching near deafening levels by the time they reached the living room. The front door bowed and cracked each time, threatening to yield to the forces assailing it.

Gage and Adrienne readied themselves as the entryway finally gave way.

The door flew open and two young men rushed inside, their eyes rimmed with a fire that shined in the darkened room. Blake, older of the two brothers, was the first one through the door. He was moving his hefty, corn-fed body surprisingly fast.

Gage wasted no time firing several rounds his way, landing a strike into his broad chest and another straight to his head, knocking him to the ground in an incapacitated heap as the wounds flickered with a faint purple light.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, realizing the UV rounds were still chambered.

Before Gage could change the magazine or take two steps to finish off Blake, his younger brother Preston was upon him. Just as large as the two of them, he landed a solid blow to Gage's chin, knocking him back.

He could taste the metallic hotness of a bloodied lip, wiping the bulk of it away with his wrist. Flinging the sticky liquid to the ground, he swirled the rest around in his mouth and spit at Preston’s feet.

“Mother fucker,” Gage said before rushing in to knock the shit out of Preston’s smirking face. His temperature was feverish, but he channeled that energy into his attacks. He got in double the amount of pain and punishment on that demon’s ass before signaling to Adrienne. He moved himself behind the demon and locked his large arms like a vice.

Adrienne came around in no time, positioning herself in front of Preston. Blade ready in hand, she dove in while he struggled to free himself of Gage's powerful hold. The silver shard sunk in deep and a golden hue erupted from the lacerated flesh.

Preston wailed as the shadow within the host, his true self, was vaporized into the nothingness that awaited it.

“Good job,” Gage said as he dropped the lifeless body.

“You know it,” she replied, wiping the dagger on her shirt.

While they were fighting, Blake had awakened from his short radioactive coma and broke away from the scuffle. He charged toward the back door, planning to let his father in for reinforcement.

He was halted by Madeline, who materialized in the kitchen and blocked the way. She waved a hand as if to toss him aside like a piece of trash, but before she was able to finish the motion, he pulled out a dark powder from his front pockets and blew it all around her. They were iron filings and they were as razors to her. They sparked and hissed vigorously as they punctured her, causing her to glitch as if she were being short circuited.

The attack also left Blake injured and he pulled back his own burning hands and grimaced. With his ghostly foe momentarily distracted, he continued to the doorway. Grasping the handle with a blistering palm, he gritted his teeth and turned.

The door creaked open and Lawrence stepped through, one squalid shoe at a time. He didn't hang back however, charging straight away on the offense and swiping at Madeline with an oversized wrench. The weight of the weapon was unwieldy and caused him to swing slowly. He missed while she weaved herself out of the way.

Lawrence had always been a small man and because of that he was agile. Being possessed by a demon amplified those characteristics and made him that much more dangerous as he continued to bring his weapon to bear. Mercilessly he swung at her multiple times in succession yet Madeline, who was equally agile, was able to tactfully keep him at bay.

Riled by his lack of success, he grasped the handle with both hands and flung it at her with all his strength like a hammer throw; the momentum he had built causing him to tumble forward.

Madeline ducked as the wrench whooshed by her head and impaled itself in the wall. Quickly she held out a hand as he started to regain balance and with a flick of her wrist, he was launched hard into the breakfast area where the furniture broke beneath him as he landed.

Blake then came at her swinging with his own iron bar, which she managed to dodge just as easily as before. Like his father though,  he did not give up and did it again and again until he finally lucked up and made contact with her. The bar slid through like butter, the path it traced vaporizing in a cloud of coral smoke.

She gasped in pain as she floated in tatters, grasping at the long shear in her body while waiting another inevitable strike.

“Bye, you spectral bitch!” Blake said with unabashed hatred, but the next move did not come from him.

Madeline heard Lawrence shuffling around behind her, the sounds of damaged furniture snapping beneath his feet. She spun around to face him and what she saw worried her.

He stood there in the ruins holding a small stone between two fingers and thumb. It was emblazoned with interconnecting white runes across its dull surface.

“Spiritum Ejicio!” he shouted joyously. The symbols flared up with an intense light that spiraled out toward her, striking her abdomen before binding her body as if with chains.

Incapable of escaping the magical prison, she was ejected from the house as the spell flung itself through the roof, knocking a gaping hole clear through to the outside.

“Mom, no!” Gage bit at his sore lip as his new magazine slid into place.

Both demons snarled back at him, baring their heavily plaque-ridden teeth. Scraps of tinder gently rained down.

“You…” said Gage, taunting with a finger pointed sternly at Lawrence,  “are gonna suffer for that.”

Blake crowed as Lawrence took a step forward.

“Oh really, Mister Crosse?” he said without fear of the reputed demon-slayer’s response. “You have no idea the fate that awaits slayer scum like you. In fact, I think tonight I'll have the pleasure of finally seeing you suffer the same fate as your cunt mother and bastard father.”

Adrienne felt vastly uneasy.

“Easy now,” Gage replied, heat building in the very pit of his stomach. “Those are my parents you're talking about.”

“Duh,” he replied. “I know them well. In fact, I might have gotten to know them really well back in the day before they were… extinguished like a weak candle flame.” He made a puffing noise and stretched his fingers out wide like an explosion.

Gage felt his blood pressure rising, hand tightening around the grip of the MK23. This fucker was there!?

“So were you the one that did it?” he asked in a low, near indecipherable tone.

“Did what?” Lawrence asked sneeringly, shrugging his shoulders and raising his palms upward in a mocking fashion.

Blake erupted in a fit of derisive laughter.

Gage raised his weapon, pointed it at Blake, and pulled the trigger. A shining bullet emerged from the barrel and struck him directly in the previous head wound. He spasmed for a moment as if being electrocuted before slumping on the floor, lifeless.

Adrienne looked to Gage and his expression was alarming, as if he himself were possessed by something dreadful. “Did what?!” he yelled. “Take my parents’ lives just like I took your fucking demon brother’s.”

Lawrence cackled garishly and clapped his grubby hands.

“So, I ask you again, did you do it?” asked Gage, his stare barren.

Lawrence’s lips spread garishly wide, curving upward into a sick smile. “Yes.”

With that Gage leapt at him, grabbing him by the collar. He lifted him clear off the floor and bashed him into the window frame a couple of times. He then lowered his feet back to the ground in order to batter him relentlessly with more powerful blows across his face and stomach.

Lawrence wasn't putting up much of a fight. In fact, he wasn’t fighting at all, instead standing there like a mannequin. Had Gage released his grip, he would likely collapse.

“Gage,” Adrienne interrupted, looking past the two of them out the window. She sensed something off in the distance beyond the tree line. “He’s baiting you. I think something else is on its way.”

Gage paid her no mind and continued his assault, nearly in tears. “I'm gonna beat the fucking smoke out of you!”

His foe stayed eerily quiet, those roughened teeth smiling at him through a thick coat of fresh blood.

“Gage!” shouted Adrienne. “Enough! Just finish him!”

Without a word back to her, Gage held out a hand, the other firmly around Lawrence’s throat as he secured him against the wall.

Adrienne looked anxiously at his quivering palm and then up to his still barren stare, fixed on the demon’s face. She slowly placed her blade in his hand and his fingers closed around the handle.

Gage leaned in extremely close to his foe’s face, so close that their noses nearly touched. A bead of sweat was able to exchange between the two of them before dripping to the floor.

Lawrence’s demonic eyes had shifted back to a more human looking shade of blue.

“I know you’re in there smoky,” Gage said as he teased the knife edge on Lawrence’s neck. He pricked it and blood flowed out along the blade. “Let’s talk… eye to eye.”

“It’s too late, you arrogant prick. They are coming for you and those two magnificent treasures around your filthy neck.”

“I’ll deal with ‘them’ when they get here,” said Gage confidently. “Right now it’s our party. Just you…” he flicked the knife again, “and me.”

Lawrence cackled and Gage swiped the blade hard across his chest to shut him up. Those soothing blue eyes bolted, replaced by the foul colors of a crimson midnight.

“Ah now that you’re back! Your name,” commanded Gage.

There was no reply.

“Your name,” he repeated, slicing the blade across the demon’s chest again, forming a cross-like shape.

Still no words came. The smell of burning flesh pervaded the room and the demon’s feet began to smolder as if he were standing on a pile of searing ashes.

“Your…  fucking…  name!”  shouted Gage as he stabbed the knife into his shoulder.

Adrienne shut her eyes, taking a step back. Never before had she seen Gage like this. As she opened them again, she could have sworn the things around his neck gleamed briefly. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t have time to think on it as she caught distant shapes in the window, emerging from the tree line.

“Camio,” the demon said, its smoking flesh damn near overbearing. “My name is Camio.”

Gage tilted his head slightly and leaned in toward his ear and whispered, “Well, Camio, please accept this parting gift with kindest regards from the Crosse family.” He raised the dagger and slowly drug it across his neck from end to end.

The yellow glow from the fatal wound soaked into his vacant eyes and Camio drew his final, garbled breath. Having lived for several millennia, he was no more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LOVE IS PAIN

GAGE HANDED the blade back to Adrienne, his hands no longer shaking from whatever rage had overtaken him.

“Gage, are you okay?” she asked as she took it from him. “You weren’t yourself just now.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, unsure if he believed that himself.  “Just repaying someone that took my old life away. Gimme a few, darlin’ and I’ll be good.”

“Sadly babe, we don’t have a minute,” she replied, pointing out the back window to the shapes by the distant trees.

There were now thirteen dark forms standing in the pale moonlight, lining up against the forest wall.

“Oh my God,” he said, unable to make out what they were at this distance.

Without warning, they all screeched in unison, the sound both ghastly and new. Neither Gage nor Adrienne had encountered these terrors, whatever they were, before.

They then broke away from the trees in turn and sprinted toward the house on all fours, scattering like flies waved away at a picnic. As they came closer, their abominable nature became apparent.

They were bipedal, no larger than an average human, though they could run on all their limbs at great speed. Their ebony skin was tight and smooth but non-reflective, capable of absorbing the moonlight to hide their athletic bodies. From the tips of their whip-like tails to the crown of their tentacled heads ran a ridge of sharp, spiny bone.

They were at the house in no time, rising on their hind legs and using their tails for balance. Lifting their heads high they sniffed, faces otherwise encased in bands of chunky leather sewn directly to their flesh. Their eyes, if they had any, were covered but massive jaws were able to move unhindered. Several large and serrated teeth jutted out from their lipless mouths while sharp claws rasped the air.

“What are they?” whispered Adrienne, forcing her hand into Gage’s.

“I have no idea what those… abominations are,” he answered. “I don't even recall seeing anything remotely like them in lore.” Definitely worried by the unknown, he swallowed hard before continuing. “We have to try and get out of here… head for the truck.”

The two of them made their way toward the front door, but were stopped dead in their tracks when one of the creatures stepped inside. It hadn't detected them, stooping down and smelling Preston’s body. A long tongue writhed its way out of its mouth and no sooner than the slimy appendage touched human skin, the creature lurched forward. It took Preston’s head into its mouth, pulverizing the bone in its jaws while grating on the residual meat.

Adrienne gasped, hand lifting to her mouth to suppress the urge to vomit. Gage guided her into position behind him for added protection and checked his pistol; there was a single demon killing round left. He had absolutely no idea if it would even be effective against these things, but it was all they had and judging by the diabolical appearance of their enemies it could work, in theory.

The only other thing at their immediate disposal was Adrienne’s dagger. It was a sure bet thanks to the sigils engraved upon it, but being a knife it would require him to get way too close for comfort. That luxury he would save as their last resort.

The creature continued mindlessly consuming Preston, as a dog would a bowl of food, while Gage and Adrienne repositioned themselves. They were looking for the prime position to make a run for it.

Matters soon went from bad to worse: two more beasts noisily stumbled their way over the debris accumulated at the back door. There they found the bodies of Lawrence and Blake, wasting no time in devouring them along with Gage’s hopes for escape.

The odds were just not in their favor. Three creatures had made their way into the house and blocked the exits, the truck was parked at least a hundred fifty feet away from the closest door, while ten other abominations had dispersed and could be anywhere in between.

He pivoted Adrienne toward him, coming to grips with the reality they faced. Brushing a hand through that luxurious hair of hers, he came to rest it on her cheek, cupping it affectionately.

“Darlin’, I can clear you a path out the front door and hold those two at the back. I don’t know where the rest of ‘em are but at least it’ll give you a chance to get yourself to the truck and your ass out of here.”

“No!” she said, fighting the very notion of it. “I can’t leave you here.”

“Yes you can!” he said sharply under his breath. “You have to go. I… I care about you too much.”

A tear streamed down her face and was caught by his thumb. He gingerly wiped it away.

“Gage, no,” she insisted, making no moves except to get closer to him. “Absolutely no. We’re a team… a family, all the way to the end.”

He smiled and for once didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” she said. “Let’s get out of here, together.”

With a new found resolve, Gage aimed at the creature blocking the front door. “Hey ugly!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the ire of all three beasts. “Get the hell out of our way!”

It reared up tall and shrieked, gore flecking off of its teeth.

“I sure hope this does something,” he whispered, pulling the trigger with a silent prayer. The last of his slayer ammo soared from the barrel and gracefully through the air, straight into the fiend’s mouth and out the other side. It stood in front of them frozen in place as if it were stunned.

“Fuck!” said Gage, realizing the bullet didn’t kill it. “We gotta head upstairs and -”

A delayed whimper leached out from the abomination as it fell over in answer to their prayers. The bullet succeeded in slaying the foul beast.

Together they dashed toward the front door, the freedom of wider spaces just a few more precious steps away.

However, the universe decided now was not the time for such niceties and threw another curve ball their way. Their feeling of elation was short lived as two more of the things crossed the threshold into the house.

Gage and Adrienne had no choice but to fall back into the center of the living room. He pushed her behind him yet again, but soon the two monsters that had been behind them encroached and were within a couple feet.

They were surrounded.

One of the beasts approaching from the back leapt at them and Gage pushed Adrienne out of the way just as it swiped upwards across his chest with its long talons. They scratched a series of deep, parallel cuts into his right pec. As the nails cut Gage, they struck the chain and its sheer power shattered the petrified keratin like glass.

The beast cringed in misery, retreating to the kitchen as the other one took its turn and lunged. It got a solid kick in the stomach as a reward, sending it crashing to the floor.

Gage strode over to the dazed monster, Adrienne in tow, and placed a foot on its head before pressing down. He could hear the bone start to crunch under foot and feel it buckle, fueling him to press down even harder with his full weight.

“Ady, I want you -”

His words were cut forcibly short when she was wrenched from his grip by the two other monstrosities.

He felt her fingers slipping through his own and he turned, realizing then that the situation had grown dire.

She tried to stab at her attackers, but they were able to keep the dagger from making any sort of contact. Incensed, one slapped at her hand and with an indignant growl sent the silver blade pirouetting through the room. It landed tip first into the hardwood some distance away from either of them. There it wavered for a moment before becoming still.

Time slipped into unwelcome slow motion as the brute viciously pulled back Adrienne’s neck and bit into her shoulder, taking a good chunk out of it. Her face contorted from the horrendous pain that blazed its way through her entire body. While still latched on, it walked her around the room as one would a trophy, looping around to the other side as she seared in pain.

There, the previously injured beast stepped out from the dark corner where it was recuperating and made its way over to them. It inhaled the air just above the wound, tasting her warm blood with its probing tongue. It made sure to turn its face toward Gage, who was still standing over the fallen beast. Without warning it thrust the claws of its unbroken hand into her side before slowly twisting it back out.

She screamed as the remaining creatures poured in at the sound of her cries, screeching themselves in approval.

Gage watched in horror as she bled out over her once soft and beautiful skin, her legs marred by the blood and viscera flowing down to the floor. A massive deluge of emotions overtook him and his anger grew to a level so intense that it literally sparked a fire within him. Light and flame blazed from his eyes as if he were Hell Incarnate. The metal trembled as the chain scorched his skin, sending plumes of deathly smoke around him like a twisted hood and cape.

He utterly crushed the beast’s head that was beneath his heel, kicking its body away with a thunderous crack. He then focused all of his attention on the group of foul creatures that still stood ahead of him.

Adrienne was dropped without compassion there in the kitchen as the remaining creatures encircled Gage. She convulsed, her body in shock as it still clung onto what little life she had left.

Without an ounce of fear Gage stepped forward, the talisman now floating in front of him, vibrating so rapidly that it was nearly invisible. Smoke continued to cascade around him and his eyes shone brightly from behind the veil.

The monsters roared, deafening in their sick melody. They all leapt toward him in the center of their circle of death, baring all manner of sharpness to tear him to shreds.

His eyes became slices of razor thin hatred and there was another sound like thunder that exploded through the room, knocking pictures off the walls and shattering keepsakes. The amulet immediately stopped and waves of hellfire coursed out of it, wrecking the ceiling entirely and most of the back wall. Great chunks of rubble crashed atop the creatures, impaling some while crushing others without pity.

As the ones that survived climbed out from beneath the wreckage, death was set upon them. There was absolutely no hope, for Gage would not let them have an ounce of it. With lash upon fiery lash they were blown back and away, each violent tendril chasing them as if alive and hungry for destruction and torment. The burning whips endlessly beat charred chunks out of their bodies, which disappeared in satisfying whorls of char.

As the last body was obliterated in the raging inferno, its tortured cries were swiftly muted and carried off by the wind. The fires then faded away, receding back into the silver disc from where they came.

Nothing now remained of Gage’s enemies, except for the peaceful flutter of ash.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NON OMNIS MORIAR

WHEN HE OPENED HIS EYES, he was lost, unable to comprehend what had just happened or how much time had gone by. The ringing in his ears was still deafening and his vision muddy. Instinctively, he felt his neck expecting to have massive injuries everywhere yet there were no signs of any. Amidst the cacophony a figure lay still, focused, and broken on a kitchen floor which had seen much better days.

Adrienne! I’m so sorry, he thought to himself as he rushed to her side. He checked her for signs of life.

Oh thank God.

They were there, but were mere embers. Her eyes slowly opened upon feeling his touch.

“You look like shit,” he managed to say, barely even a whisper across his lips. Pulling a hand through her ever-soft hair, he closed his eyes and tried forcing himself to believe the wetness he felt was from the shower they shared earlier.

He couldn’t do it.

“Yup,” she whispered through a labored breath and a weak, blood stained smile.

“Oh my dear Adrienne,” Gage began. “We’ll be sure to get you fixed up. Yeah. Fixed up right away. Joey probably has something - ”

She winced, taking all her strength to lift a shaky finger up to his lips. “Shhh. Liar.”

Gage knew what was coming, fast, and was ill prepared for it. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I… know… always,” she replied, her voice feeble and still failing. She stared up and out through the hole in the roof. “The stars… look prettier than… last night.”

Gage looked up too and saw the vast expanse of starlight twinkling in the heavens. His eyes welled with regret as he looked back down to find those same stars reflected in her eyes, now full of tears.

“When I… saw you this morning. I knew… that today… would be… a perfect day.”

An anemic smile formed. “Was it?” he asked.

“Yes. You're here… with me… at the end . I lo- ”

A hard cough came and her hand fell back, eyes widening in an aimless search. “Gage!” she whimpered before the deafening sound of silence took over.

She lay still.

“Ady?”

There was no reply.

“Ady?” he repeated.

There was no way to describe what Gage felt as she still didn’t respond; desolate and barren was a vast understatement. His heart might as well have been torn out by one of those monstrous things as it would have been far less excruciating.

His lips turned down and became a thin line as the realization finally settled in. Gently, he pressed his fingers on his lips, then brought them to hers before using them to slide her eyelids closed.

“Sleep well, gorgeous. You’ll forever be the brightest star in my sky.”

A FEW QUIET moments passed as Gage sat with eyes closed in the midst of the ruined kitchen, holding firmly onto Adrienne’s body.

Then, a familiar voice came from behind.

“Sweetie,” said his mother as she crouched beside him. Her hand rested on his lower back as she gave it a loving rub.

“Mom, you’re ok?”

“Bastards can’t keep me banished for long, especially from here,” she replied.

“I've lost everything, again.” He kneeled, sinking back onto his heels as his hands fell down to his sides. “You, Dad, now… her.”

“It's ok, baby,” she said reassuringly. “You're strong.”

“Not strong enough apparently. I've failed all of you! This damn thing should have stayed buried in the cellar and I never should have let my emotions bring her into this.”

“Hush, none of that,” she insisted.  “She was a Journeyman. You’re a Journeyman. Despite the walls you put up, you’re both in the business. Whether or not you both got together, or stayed friends or just fell into being acquaintances, the life follows you. Momma knows best about that. And enough about that other nonsense; you are strong. Do you remember what I used to tell you?”

He picked up a small board that was lying nearby and snapped it between his hands. “Strength isn't just physical. It's also in the heart and the mind. Dad reminded me of that in order to get this thing.” His fingers grazed the disc before dropping back to his sides.

“Yes!” she said, pointing to his head then chest. “In there it's much more potent and thankfully there is an abundance of both beneath that thick skull and gruff exterior your mother can so easily see through. Your love is powerful my son. It's why I'm here now and it will certainly get you through the toughest times ahead. Love is hope and hope… well it’s all we have in the darkest of times.

“But, I'm not going to lie to you. More of this will be coming for you and times are about to get much darker. Especially with that thing around your neck.”

He looked down at Adrienne and nodded. She looked as if she could be sleeping.

“She was a good soul, baby,” she said. “Now she’s in a better place. We can look at clearing some room in the rose garden to…”

Her voice trailed off as yet another deep rumble came from far off the property. If it was loud enough to be heard in the house and shake what little remained intact in the room, something big was coming.

“Wait here,” she said, phasing out.

Gage grabbed at the talisman. Why me?

She returned a few seconds later, a terrified look upon her face. “Baby. You have to go!”

Gage shot to his feet and stared out the rear doors. In the distance, he saw a shit storm of what-the-fuck rushing their way. A massive horde of demons and dark creatures was coming fast.

Madeline quickly solidified to embrace him. “Goodbye, my dear son.” She spun him around and pushed him toward the front door. “I’ll buy you some time; your father had a couple backup plans just in case one of us managed to make it back. You must keep it safe!” she exclaimed. “Now go!”

With a raise of her hand another massive hole tore across the wall, sending debris, the porch rails, and even the troublesome front door flying into the demons that surrounded his truck, impaling their bodies to the ground.

Seeing his opportunity to escape, Gage went for it, looking one last time at Adrienne and remembering her face as if it were the first glorious time he saw it. He took off with the treasures and her enchanted dagger firmly in hand.

Madeline watched as her son safely exited, then turned back toward the oncoming horde. Her demeanor shifted. No longer warm and motherly, she became deep and cold like the ocean during a hurricane. Her wraithlike form held firm while what was left of the back of the house shattered before her. Swarms of foul creatures spilled into her home.

“You are not welcome here!” she commanded. Eyes like lances pierced her enemies and they were frozen in place by the dread that swam in the deep pools of her soul.

Some were not afraid and rocketed forward with all the deadliness they could muster. With a mere flick of her wrist, they were mangled into appalling shapes and sent flying from the property.

The rest dared not touch her, nor could.

Except for one.

Ancient he was, with a name long lost to prehistory. Without fear or remorse for those in his way, the massive serpent barreled into the house and set himself before Madeline, coiled to strike. The moon cascaded upon the leviathan’s thick black hide but did not reflect away, the matted darkness crushing the light. His putrid and stinking body rolled and made quick work of all it touched, while his massive jaw unhinged, salivating at the mere notion of feasting.

He lunged with quickness and a pure light enveloped her like a shield, shattering his monstrous fangs. He hissed and flared immense armored flaps from his neck like a cobra, blocking out the stars behind.

He struck again mercilessly and with each strike thereafter her light grew dimmer, but not without penalty to himself.

Madeline had enough and extended a hand through the rippling glow that stood between her and the darkness. A beam of powerful light lashed out, striking the serpent in the face and burning out its eyes.

The ferocious assault between them continued until the shield was but a thin line of silver against the storm. She had grown weak and with one more blow, her only protection would be gone. She would be finished.  Falling to her knees, she was ready to accept her fate.

His colossal maw came at her a final time, but was stopped when the living room sofa careened into it. He was knocked back.

Furniture of all sizes followed, shredding in mid air into thousands of sharp splinters that pummeled and punctured the beast outside and in.

Madeline breathed a sigh of welcome relief, but drew back ready for an attack when something touched her on the shoulder. She spun around, ready to throw this latest abomination back, but her fury quickly subsided. She smiled with relief.

Outside, Gage had made it to the truck and slammed the door closed. He looked over his shoulder and was taken aback. The loves of his life stood there, hand in hand in the massive breach, gleaming like gems amidst the waves of darkness crashing around them.

Ady!?

Behind their shining forms the serpent writhed, positioning its crippled body for another indomitable strike.

Frozen by despair, Gage couldn't focus on anything but their aura; he should be leaving but couldn’t. They were both so close, oh so close to him, yet infinitely out of reach.

There sat the unstoppable Gage Crosse, powerless in his old truck just watching as the two of them shone brightly amidst the churning destruction. All he could manage to do while they coalesced into orbs was extend a hand in their direction – a sole, empty hand.

Adrienne saw him and returned the gesture, hers full of love and light. She raised her hand up to her fading lips, turning it out to blow him a kiss.

“Non omnis moriar,” she mouthed afterward and was consumed by utter black.

His eyes welled yet did not spill a drop and with anguish, his fingers creaked closed around the last memory of her. He pulled in that fist tightly, letting out the deepest breath of his life while thumping it hard against his chest.

The terrible viper roared once more, its victory cries echoing across the fields just before the unmistakable throws of gagging took over.

Gage opened his eyes and watched as a burst of dazzling light slid along the serpent, the shockwave knocking down the demonic legion as two orbs tore their way out and rocketed skyward into the night.

Quickly they faded and were gone.

She was gone.

From the belly of the beast a shadow ripped out like a tempest, whipping through the remnants of the house and horde alike.

His home and life were decimated and his precious memories, those he still had left, were sent straight into the abyss.

There was no going back this time.

The tears, long overdue, finally crested as he stomped hard on the gas, the exhaust belching oil and fire. As he looked over to where Adrienne would be sitting, the very pit of his stomach dropped seeing what was in the empty shotgun seat. Her hat was still sitting there neatly in the middle, unaware of the loss of its owner.

As the GMC raced down the drive and peeled onto the country road, he found himself alone again. Houston never felt so far away.

EPILOGUE

IT WAS NEARLY PITCH black in the room, the sound of heavy rain beating against the window panes filled the darkness with a threatening roar.

A slender figure awoke and stumbled lazily out of bed. The pale comforter fell to the floor as it walked toward the windows that groaned ominously under the intense wind. The room itself seemed to breathe, swaying as if set on a stormy sea.

Grabbing the curtains forcefully, the figure flung them open just as a thunderous boom shook the glass and rebounded against the walls.

Outside, the horizon shone bright like the setting sun, sandwiched between two quaking layers of intense, boiling clouds.

“Oh my God,” said Adrienne, her face catching the lightning as it began screaming between the clouds both above and below. Far off in the distance, a pinprick of light shone out brighter than anything around it. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

In grim reply, an army of gray hands, lifeless and countless, slammed against the windows, shattering the glass as they tore their way toward her.

THE END

The journey continues in “Seal of Solomon” (Journeyman Series Two).

MAIN CAST OF CHARACTER

Humans

Gage Crosse

Adrienne Elkins

Joey Mosely

Henry Abington

Marcus Sheridan

Councilor Jane Carter

Councilor Timothy Randall

Councilor Allete Popov

Paranormals

Onoskelis (Keli)

Hell Knight Baal

Hell Knight Astaroth

Hell Knight Paimon

Dajjal

Councilor Fenran

Councilor Drogir

Councilor Tyrol

Councilor Qulieth

Head Vampire Bailey

Head Vampire Evans

Head Vampire Miller

Geirolf, The Wolf Spear

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In the beginning, Golden worked the standard corporate rat race, completed college for a Chemical Engineering Degree, and began a small photography company on the side.

Since then, and the growth of the FuriousFotog brand, Golden became an internationally published modeling/fitness photographer and eventually began working as a book cover model.

Having been in the industry for at least four years, he has interfaced and networked with countless authors and other clients. As part of his work as a photographer, he worked with them to create book cover images - now numbering well over 250 at the beginning of 2016.

Learning the ins and out of the book world, along with being an avid reader and storyteller himself, Golden finally decided to write and publish his first book, Homeward Bound, in 2016. This paranormal adventure romance will span a total of six books and new ideas for other stories are in the works as well.

JOIN MY NEWSLETTER

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ALSO BY GOLDEN CZERMAKCZERMAK

Journeyman Series

Homeward Bound (Journeyman Series One)

Seal of Solomon (Journeyman Series Two)

Made to Suffer (Journeyman Series Three)

The Devil’s Highway (Journeyman Series Four)

Then Hell Followed (Journeyman Series Five) - Jan 30, 2017

Running on Empty (Journeyman Series Six) - Jan 30, 2017

STANDALONE SPIN-OFF NOVELLAS COMING IN 2017:

Stories of the Order – Shadowmen

Stories of the Order – No Strings Attached

OTHER NOVELS/NOVELLAS COMING SOON

Stories of the Order – Mosely

The Steam Tycoon

The Secret Life of Cooper Bennett

He is the Tide

Skyline Memories

©2014

Incandescent is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

First eBook edition: August 2014

Edited by Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing

Cover design ©: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

Image: stockphoto.com

Formatting by Max Henry at Max Effect

Information address: riversavageauthor@gmail.com

PROLOGUE

THE RUMBLE of a motorcycle wakes me from my sleep, stirring the once peaceful night. Reaching out to Zane, my hand finds the coolness of the empty sheets.

“Zane?” I whisper into the darkness. Looking toward the red light of his alarm clock illuminating the otherwise pitch-black room, the clock numbers blink incessantly.

A shiver of alarm runs through me as though ice just replaced my spine. My heart beats double time, the rhythm now matching the rapid blinking of the clock. Something doesn’t feel right.

Grabbing my robe from the end of the bed, I wrap it around myself and creep out of the bedroom in search of my fiancé.

“Zane,” I whisper again as I walk down the long darkened hall.

The burning stench hits me first, its strength potent enough to overpower my taste buds. A wave of heat blankets me as it takes a moment to register the dangerous flames dancing before my eyes. The front of my four-bedroom home burns rapidly, engulfing everything in sight.

I stand fixed, mesmerized by the bright orange cinder, as if the seductive blaze calls to me.

The house shudders; the explosion knocks me off balance, forcing me down to the shaky ground. Dazed, I drop to my hands and begin to crawl my way to the back door, the hallway now swallowed by the blackened smoke. The open flames lick out as I force myself to the only available exit.

Reaching the door, my fingers close around the brass handle. The metal singes my skin but doesn’t stop me in my escape. Panic stirs when the handle doesn’t turn. Frantically, I pull harder, wrestling with the lock.

Inky darkness fogs my view as I struggle to fill my lungs. My breathing labors, my fight slowing.

I don’t want to die.

1

KADENCE

THREE YEARS LATER.

SITTING AT MY DESK, I hold in my frustration. This meeting is not how I wanted to end my workday. I look across at the angry brown eyes of one very upset father. Mr. Hill leans forward, just as irritated at the wait.

His son, Tommy, sits by his side, the black eye he earned in class today is almost swollen shut.

Zayden Knight sits on the opposite side of the room waiting quietly for his mother to arrive. His dark, overgrown hair hangs over his forehead, covering one eye. Zayden is the last person I’d expect to deliver the punch. If I hadn’t had seen him with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.

I requested both parents meet me at three; it’s now quarter past the hour. The classroom clock ticks over, another minute that she’s late. Mr. Hill clears his throat and I look up, about to apologize again for the delay, when the door pushes open.

My eyes do a quick sweep of the tall man as he walks forward, but the sound of his motorcycle boots squeaking on the vinyl floor draws my attention. The fact that a man just walked into my classroom unannounced doesn’t register to me; instead, the leather riding boots hold me captive, sending me back to the night that I don’t ever want to relive. I force my eyes up, the leather of his cut pushing me deeper into the memory, and for a split second, I think he’s someone else.

Anger slowly creeps its way up my spine. My eyes frantically sweep his chest; the patch sewn on the left side of his vest comes into view reading Knights Rebels MC. Exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I will my erratic heart to calm. It’s not them.

Everyone in Rushford knows who the Knights Rebels are. Years ago, our small town feared them; known to run on the wrong side of the law, people kept their distance. The Rebels ran this town the way they saw fit. Guns, drugs and women, they went above and beyond the law. I’m not sure what happened, but a few years back, they started cleaning their act up and they now hold the respect of most of the town. Charity runs keep them active in the community; their crazy parties keep them popular with the women, but most importantly, keeping the drugs out of town earns them that respect.

I keep my distance. Associating with them is something I’ve never done, even if they have cleaned up their act. After what happened with Zane, my asshole ex, I avoid people like them. I know all too well what they’re capable of, the reminder branded on my skin.

Pulling my thoughts from the past, I look up at the man who just barged into my classroom.

“Hello, can I help you?” I address him, standing from my chair and walking around the front of the desk. He ignores me and goes straight to where Zayden sits.

“Hey, buddy, how you doin’?” he squats down to Zayden’s level.

“Hey, Dad.” Zayden carefully looks up, a glum expression on his face. He lowers his head, and I wonder how much trouble he will find himself in tonight.

I had no idea Zayden’s dad was a part of the MC. The name Knight clicks in my head and it all falls into place. Shit, he’s not just part of the MC. His family is the MC.

The man eventually looks up at me, finally giving me his attention. His watchful gaze follows the length of me before he stands to full height. His dark hair is a sexy mess, as if he just ran his hand through it. The five o’clock shadow over his tense jaw shows signs of graying; not in an old man kind of way, but that of a sexy, hot, older guy. His piercing green eyes, the color of jade, make me look twice.

Smiling at me, the man takes a large step toward me, his presence overpowering at the sheer height of him. I falter, a little shaky on my heels and look up at him. I feel short on the best of days, wearing heels to keep my head above most people’s chins, but standing in front of him with his at least six-foot frame towering over me, I feel like a small child again. Extending my hand toward him, he takes it in his as I greet him. “Hello, I’m Miss Turner, Zayden’s teacher. I was expecting Mrs. Knight,” I rush out like a fumbling schoolgirl. Oh, my God, kill me now.

He stares down at me, his green eyes never leaving mine nor saying anything; his large calloused hand still firmly grips mine.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he finally responds, breaking our weird moment. “Z’s mom only just called me about the meeting; she's been held up.” He clears his throat, like it’s a lie, but continues, “I came when I got the call.”

He finally releases his awkward hold on me and takes a step back. With the loss of his grip, I have to move my hand to the front of my desk to support my unease. For some reason, other than stupidity, I have no idea what he said so I just nod my head. He grins, noticing my reaction, and I smile back, lost in his.

Jesus, Kadence, get it together, you’ve met good-looking men before.

I take a deep breath, shaking off the stupid look I’m sure I’m wearing. I’m surprised and appalled by my attraction. I’ve never reacted to someone like this before.

“Well, in that case, let’s get started shall we?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t give away his effect on me. Yeah, ‘cause the stupid grin you just had on your face didn’t?

Walking back around my desk, I take a large breath, hoping it calms my beating heart before sitting. I watch as he folds himself into the small grade-school chair, and I hold back a smile at how ridiculous he looks. I address Zayden’s dad first, not certain if his wife relayed what I told her over the phone.

“I’m not sure what your wife has told you, Mr. Knight.”

“Ex-wife,” he interrupts me, his tone telling me that I need to remember that.

“Right, okay,” I continue, ignoring the pleasure I get from hearing he isn’t married.

“Well, as I was telling your ex-wife, Zayden was involved in an altercation with another student today,” I tell him, looking over at Mr. Hill and his son. “Ending with Tommy’s black eye.”

“This true, Z?” Hot biker dad turns, looking at his son.

In my head, hot biker shouldn’t be in my vocabulary, but with his long legs outstretched in front of my desk, the sexy-as-sin riding boots crossed over at the ankle, and the way I hear the leather move when he turns to look at Z, I can’t help call him anything but.

“Yeah, Dad,” Zayden replies, his eyes lowered.

“Your son is a menace just like your club, Knight, and I won’t allow him to bully my kid in class. I want something done about it!” Mr. Hill yells, standing from his seat.

I’m not surprised by Mr. Hill’s outburst; he’s been sitting on the edge of his seat, ready to chew someone’s head off for the last twenty minutes. Yeah, I value my time too, but that’s not Mr. Knight’s fault; he came when he found out. I don’t know why I’m siding with him. I should be more concerned for Mr. Hill’s wellbeing when Mr. Knight stands from his own seat and takes a rather large step toward him.

“Excuse me, I was talkin’ to my boy. I'll address you when he explains to me why he saw fit to put his hands on your son,” Mr. Knight pushes out with gritted teeth. Fuck, he even speaks sexy biker. What the hell is sexy biker? Get it together, Kadence.

Sensing the situation could get out of hand, I stand. “Mr. Knight, Mr. Hill, please sit down,” I demand, hoping the slight tremor I feel doesn’t show.

Mr. Hill sits first, obviously realizing he is in over his head with the fuming badass.

“You wanna give me a moment to talk with my boy?” Mr. Knight asks, looking over at me. I don’t know why I do it, but I nod my head and sit back in my chair. I watch him spare one more look at Mr. Hill, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut.

Jesus, how can he be the one in control right now?

“Now, you wanna tell me why you put your hands on someone, Z?” He squats down in front of his son’s chair, arms stretched out to keep him steady, his muscled arms bulging under the strain of their position. I can make out the large Knights Rebels tattoo and I wonder what else he has hidden under his clothes.

“Tommy was pulling Sarah’s hair, told her she was a whore like her mom. I told him to quit it but he started on me. You always said if someone puts their hands on me, I’m allowed to stand up for myself,” he responds quietly, calmly, given that the two hundred-pound man is squatting in front of him, scowling something fierce. I look at Tommy and see his face is ashen at Zayden’s confession.

“Is this true?” Mr. Hill turns to look at Tommy, who sinks further into his chair.

“I was only saying what you told me,” he answers back.

Mr. Hill looks up at me; a small amount of embarrassment fills his cheeks as I raise my eyebrows.

Sarah’s mom works over at Bare Assets, our local strip club in town. I have no problem with the place. Holly, my best friend, likes to drag me along sometimes for ladies' night. It’s a well-respected establishment, and as far as I know, Sarah’s mom works the bar, not a pole. What an asshole.

Awkward silence fills the room as I look between the two fathers. Mr. Hill looks down at his hands while Mr. Knight holds my gaze. His eyes show anger, no doubt at Mr. Hill, but I’m drawn to the intensity of it, like a fond memory pulling me in. I drag my eyes away, needing to break the connection, not prepared to let those feelings back in.

“Okay, well, regardless of the reasons, we still have a policy here that fighting is not allowed. Because both boys engaged in the fighting, they will both be given afterschool detention for five days.”

Considering both boys have never been in trouble for fighting, I thought I would give them a chance to sort it out here before taking it to Principal Wilson. That guy is a real schmuck, no doubt suspending them on their first offense. Yes, Z was defending himself, but Tommy is the one with a swollen eye. Sending them home for three days off won’t fix the problem.

Mr. Knight scoffs and then shakes his head, clearly not happy with the punishment. He looks over to his son, giving him a wink before turning back to me. His blatant disregard for the rules don’t surprise me, and I can’t help but call him on it.

“I hope from that wink, Mr. Knight, you're not condoning this behavior?” I challenge, cutting him off before he can begin to argue my decision.

“Listen, Mrs. —”

“Miss Turner,” I correct him the same way he did me.

“Miss Turner.” His deep, gravelly voice exaggerates the Miss and I hold back the need to roll my eyes at his insinuation.

“No, I don’t condone violence. I will, however, be proud of my son if he stands up for someone who can’t stand up for themselves.”

“He gave another student a black eye,” I shoot back. “Not to mention disrupted my class.”

Pulling two eleven-year-old boys apart in the middle of the classroom is harder than most would think. For one, they’re almost the same size as me. My five-foot-two frame is no match for two angry boys when they nearly put me on my ass.

“So? He was defending the girl and defending himself. I would have done the same,” Mr. Knight continues to disagree with me. His anger confuses me a little. What does he expect me to say? Sure, it’s fine your son clocked another student and left him with a swollen eye?

“Yes, I don’t doubt that. However, the school board doesn’t see it that way. Using violence against each other gets us nowhere.” I stop myself from saying our school rules are probably different to the rules he follows.

I stand from my chair, trying to end the conversation before I come to blows with him. Something inside of me wants to argue with him, my quick temper often getting me in trouble, but this is more. The thought of pushing him sends a tingle down my spine. I need to stop this. I force myself not to engage with him anymore; the rules are simple, there’s no point arguing. He obviously lives by his own set of rules. Unfortunately for his son, he must abide by the school’s.

“My son has a right to defend himself. Where were you when all this was happening?” He stands, clearly not done with this battle, now questioning me.

“I was dealing with another student.” I find myself on the defensive. “These boys are eleven years old, Mr. Knight. Old enough to be trusted and know violence is no way to handle things. Using your fists does not make you a man. He should have walked away and come and told me,” I tell him, feeling small again under his height and gaze.

He laughs out loud, his eyes flashing with annoyance, evidently not agreeing with me. “Lady, you got no idea what makes a man. Someone puts his hands on me, I sure as hell will respond the same way.”

Knowing I’m not going to get anywhere with this infuriating man, I straighten out my hand to shake his, ready to be out of his presence. My behavior is irrational I know. I’ve gone from feeling a spark to wanting to slap him for arguing with me.

“My decision is final, Mr. Knight. The boys will start their detention tomorrow. I hope I don’t have to take this further next time,” I say, hoping I don’t have to see him again. Something about him gets me riled up. Sure he’s hot, but his arrogant attitude is starting to annoy me. He stands quietly for a moment, not moving, not speaking, his eyes silently assessing me. The tension in the air is electrifying around us. I begin to feel a little uncomfortable with my hand outstretched before he takes it, the heat of his grip wrapping around mine.

“Well, Mrs. —”

“Miss,” I snap at him this time and wince at my tone.

“Yes, of course.” He smiles, like he wanted to hear it again. I try to pull my hand back but he tightens, pulling me forward, my free hand going to my desk as his thumb strokes the inside of my palm. The intimate move is not lost on me. Oh, God, I’m bipolar, now I want to keep my hand here.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner.” He leans in close, the warmth of his breath just skimming the side of my ear before he lets go and moves back. I steady myself, unbalanced by the loss. What the hell was that?

Reaching out, he clicks his fingers to get Zayden’s attention. “Come on, Z,” he says, waiting for him to stand. He then follows him out the door without a backward glance.

Following Mr. Knight’s lead, Mr. Hill stands, his expression now somber. For a moment I forgot he was still here, lost in the impulse that was that man.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Turner. I’ll have a word with Tommy about what he thinks he heard.” He nods, not giving me his eyes. At least he has the good sense to look embarrassed.

Grabbing Tommy’s bag, he wishes me a good evening and then turns and leaves, Tommy following close behind.

Falling back into my chair, I let out a shaky breath, glad that it’s over. I can’t believe I let Zayden’s dad get to me like that. No man has ever instilled lust and anger just by looking at me. His presence screams confidence and testosterone, right down to the way he ran his eyes over me. I know he probably acts like that toward all women, yet the thought that he felt it too excites me.

It takes me a few minutes to calm my breathing and stop all lustful thoughts of Mr. Knight before I can even begin to pack up and gather my belongings. Shutting down the lights for the day, I lock up the room and walk down the hall to the teachers’ lounge. I’m stopped in my tracks when I look up ahead. Standing by the lockers, I observe Mr. Knight kneeling in front of Z. His hand outstretched, around his neck, their heads leaning into each other, talking quietly. Zayden nods and smiles before his dad leans in further and kisses the top of his hair. The sight of this man being fatherly stirs something in me, more than his touch did. He exudes this type of power over people with his presence, but watching him talk with his son makes him vulnerable. I have no right thinking of him like that. The man is off limits, not to mention a walking smartass, but standing there at a distance, I can see how much he loves his son. The affection in his eyes leaves me with a sense of longing. I want that.

Shaking off the thought I turn into the teachers’ lounge, impatient to get home to a glass of wine, thus cutting all thoughts of one Mr. Knight, aka arrogant ass, aka sexy hot biker.

2

NIX

PULLING up to the town square, I cut the roar of my engine and wait for the rest of the boys to pull up. The yearly fair in Rushford is in full swing and I’m regretting signing us up to hold a stall. Brooks’ old lady, Kelly, is on the town’s organizing committee and suggested we get more involved in the community. I don’t know how much more involved we can be; the club’s by-laws allow us to do a few charity runs a year that we already use to give back to the town. This new idea they’ve come up with should pull in enough dough to help pay for the new town library opening in a few weeks.

Beau, the club’s VP, pulls up beside me, shutting down his bike. The women organizing this gig stand around checking us out. It always happens at these types of events, something about the leather and bikes have the women falling over themselves to get a ride.

Beau already has eyes for a pretty blonde standing to the right and I don’t doubt he’ll have her in his bed tonight. He always has women crawling all over him, carrying on about how much they love his long hair. Fucked if I know what they see in it, but who the hell knows when it comes to women. As President of Knights Rebels, my title alone has most of the women fighting with each other to get me off. I tend to stay away from easy. Easy pussy is just that. Easy. I love the chase. My thoughts go straight to last week when Z’s teacher had my cock twitching; now that woman ain’t like the ones lining up today.

Just thinking about her has the blood rushing to my cock. That smart little mouth on her, the way she stood up to me had me itching to hike up that pencil skirt she was wearing and bend her over the desk, bury myself deep in her and make her call out my name as I smacked her pert ass. Fuck, I’ve got to stop thinking about her.

Since I left the school, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. Her long, dark hair pulled away from her face just begged me to tug on it and take her mouth. Her legs were surprisingly long for someone so short and those fuck-me shoes she wore, don’t even get me started. I had no idea that Z’s teacher was sexy as fuck. Even her fiery temper had me squirming in the small fucking chair I sat in. There’s nothing better than a woman who can give just as good as she gets, and pushing her last week proved she’s that type of woman. The fire in her eyes, the way she had held her own, my cock was practically begging me to fuck her. I know I shouldn’t have pushed her. Hell, I agreed with her to some point. Z's behavior lately is concerning me, but sitting in that room, with the little fucker and his dad throwing off his attitude just pissed me off. The MC has been through a lot the last few years getting the club clean, and while the majority of the town respect what we’ve accomplished, there are still a few who think we’re no better than the men who started the club.

Miss Turner was different. I saw a flash of something in her eyes when I caught her watching me come in but she hid it as soon as I started to push. I know thinking of her is a waste of my time; sweet pussy like hers doesn’t go for a man like me, and while I like a game of cat and mouse, a woman like her? That’s one game I’ll never win.

Getting off my bike, I watch as the rest of the Knights Rebels pull in next to us, backing their Harleys in a perfect straight line. Our club has been running since 1969 when my dad, Red Knight, founded the Originals with Beau’s dad as his VP. He would tell the tale of how he grew up with the dream of having his own place to call home. He craved the brotherhood of a club, the camaraderie with like-minded people and the principle of freedom.

For me growing up in the clubhouse, the brothers were more like fathers, everyone looking out for each other as their own. Over the years, my pops lost his way and the club’s beliefs changed. Power and greed became the driving force behind them turning outlaw.

These days, the club runs in a different direction, trying to keep our noses clean. Sometimes we find ourselves cleaning up other people’s messes, but the day-to-day running, we stay legit.

It was one of the first things I did when I stepped up as Prez. It was never my intention to patch in and take over from Dad. I loved the club, love the brothers, but for a long time I didn’t know if that life was what I wanted. Earning a living the way they did never sat well with me. I was torn; enlisting to serve my country was something I could see myself doing, running drugs was not.

My decision was made easy when a few weeks before my eighteenth birthday, life changed. Shit went down with a rival club, my mom becoming a victim in their war.

I never thought I would say it, but I hated my father for what his club brought to our family. The pain of losing a wife was too much for the old man. He was in a bad way, worse than me, and the club suffered for it. I stayed, wanting to seek revenge on those who destroyed our life. I was reckless, too far-gone. All I saw was blood. I wanted to make those fuckers pay.

Nothing was the same after that. After going down the path of anger and seeking revenge, I soon realized it wasn’t who I was. The club retaliated and we got our vengeance, but it didn’t take away the hurt or the pain that I was left with. Everything that I was searching for was for nothing. Losing my mom was for nothing. Patching-in and choosing this path didn’t bring her back.

When I finally accepted that I had chosen this path, I slowly started to put my life back together. Too much blood had been spilled and most of the brothers felt the same way. The idea of changing and creating something strong encouraged me to step up, to embrace something that my father originally started. I did my time and worked my way up, doing a lot of shit I wish I didn’t have to, but I pushed through, earning my position so when the time came, I could step in and take the club back to where it belonged. Cleaning up the mess wasn’t something that happened overnight; that shit took time. A lot of allegiances were tested, leaving us vulnerable and open to attacks. Times were tough but we pushed through, coming out better on the other side.

“Dad!” Z calls out as he makes his way over to me. I watch his mom trailing behind in barely-there shorts and a tank that shows she isn’t wearing a bra. Lately she’s been dressing more like the young teenager I met, rather than the thirty-seven-year-old mother she is. I have to wonder why she feels the need to dress like trash.

“Hey, bud, how you doin’?” I ask as he climbs up on my bike.

“Good, I’ve got my tickets ready to go on some rides,” he says excitedly.

“Hey, Nix.” Addison smiles her fake smile, pushing up against me. Taking a step back from her, I ignore her attention and speak to Z.

“Go help Kelly set up with Beau and Brooks and I’ll give you a few dollars for some extra rides,” I tell him, scruffing his hair.

“Awesome!” he shouts, getting off the bike to follow Beau to the stall.

“You talk to Z about his weeklong detention?” I look back over at my ex-wife. Addison and I do the joint custody thing. Z stays with his mom four nights then back at mine for four nights. I hate not having him with me all the time, but I know kids need to have their moms in their lives. Even if she isn’t the best.

Addison pouts her lips, pissed I’m not giving her the attention she wants. I don’t know why she pulls this act; it sure as shit isn’t going to work on me after the fucked-up bullshit she pulled on me last week. Ringing me ten minutes after the scheduled meeting with the school and telling me she was tied up getting her nails done. Luckily I was in town and made the five-minute drive. Now I’m left annoyed at my encounter with Z’s teacher and the unwanted thoughts of the sexy woman.

Addison shrugs, letting me know she didn’t talk to him. I have to refrain from shaking some sense into her. She never used to be this way, only showing her true colors when I finally decided to end things. I was never in love with the woman. I thought I could make it work for the sake of Z, but in the end, it wasn’t worth it. If she doesn’t start acting like a good mother, and get her life sorted, we’re going to have problems. One being Z will be living with me full time. I have no problem taking her to court.

Walking away from her before I lose it in front of the whole town, I get a look at the sweetest ass to grace my sight. The blue jeans are pulled tight, and hug every inch of the fine ass. Her small waist, the curve of her hips and her dark hair that hangs half way down her back makes her even more appealing. Now that’s a woman I wouldn’t mind banging. Adjusting myself in my jeans, I move forward, eager to get acquainted with the dark-haired beauty. I’m stopped dead in my tracks when I see the sexy body belongs to none other than Miss Turner. Well, fuck me.

If I didn’t want to fuck her damn sexy ass in that tight skirt and fuck-me heels she was wearing last time I saw her, I’d be falling over backwards to pull off the jeans that look painted on today. She looks up, her eyes catching mine and her stance wavers for just one second, like she did when I shook her hand. Holy fuck, Miss Prim and Proper just might like herself some biker.

Walking toward her, I notice her take a deep breath, whether to calm her nerves or to gain patience I don’t know, but I’m willing to rattle her cage a little more.

“Why, hello there, Miss Turner.” I drag out the Miss just to piss her off, and also letting her know I’m particularly interested that there is no Mr. Turner.

She squares her shoulders and greets me back. “Hello, Mr. Knight.” She sounds disinterested, but I know better. After the way our meeting ended and the tension now rolling off her, I doubt her disinterest.

“Nix,” I say, wanting to hear my name come from her lips.

“Sorry?” she asks, looking more flustered every second I stand in front of her.

“My name is Nix.” I repeat it even though I know she heard me the first time. Damn women and their games; she doesn’t realize it makes me want her more. She smiles but doesn’t offer me her name.

“Are you signing up for a ride?” I ask, moving the conversation forward. If I play it smart, I can have her willing and pissed in less than two minutes.

“No.” She nervously laughs, “Not me. I wouldn’t be caught dead on the back of one of those.” She moves her head to indicate the row of bikes neatly lined up. The sight of her on the back of my bike flashes wickedly in my mind. What I would do to see that.

"Shame, I’d have grown hard seeing you in those fuck-me heels, straddling the back of my bike.” I give her a grin and quickly turn my back to her, walking back to our stall before she can respond. I’d love to see the stunned look on her face as I walked off, but I’m hoping to see her again later to rattle her some more. If I have it my way, she’ll be on the back of my bike in no time.

3

KADENCE

“NEED SOME HELP, Miss Turner?” Nix’s voice calls behind me as I try to pack the remaining boxes into my car. Shit.

After sauntering off with his dig about my heels and his bike, I’ve tried to avoid him at all costs. Being on the school committee board, I couldn’t leave considering all proceeds of the fair would be going to the new library we petitioned for, but I did my best to not be alone with him.

“No, thank you. I’m good,” I rush out, hoping he moves on. He gets me all flustered; I can’t stand to even look at him.

“Here let me.” He moves forward taking the box from my hands.

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t listen to anyone,” I remark, trying to keep my eyes off his ass as he bends at the waist to push the boxes into the trunk. After watching him all day, I’ve come to the realization that I want him. The way he is with Z just seals my opinion of him. The persona of a cocky, arrogant biker might be what he puts off, but under that he seems so different.

“You have no idea.” He turns back around, catching me checking him out.

“Sorry?” I ask, trying to hide my embarrassment at being caught. Damn it.

“I said, you have no idea,” he smirks, knowing he’s got me fumbling.

“Well, maybe you should work on that. Women don’t like it when men don’t listen,” I recover and smile at him.

“Is that what you need? A man who listens, Miss Turner?” He takes a step toward me but I hold my ground.

“I don’t need anything, Mr. Knight, especially a man.” I close the trunk, lock the car and start walking to the local diner to meet Missy and Sam for dinner.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” He grabs my hand as I walk away.

“Dinner, I’m late,” I explain as I pull out of his grasp.

“Well, have fun.” He smirks as I nod and walk to where Sam is waiting for me at the front of Happy Chef. I don’t look back. More than anything I need to get away from him before I do something stupid.

“Hey, who is that?” Sam asks as we walk in to find Missy.

“A student’s parent.” I brush it off as nothing. I don’t need the girls knowing I’m lusting after him. I need to stop thinking about him and the words he said to me before I get myself into trouble.

My reprieve of Nix is short-lived when he walks in thirty minutes later, with two guys wearing the same cut as him. How convenient. He waves over as they sit opposite from us across the diner.

“Wow, you know the Knights Rebels?” Missy’s grin spreads across her face and I can see the wheels ticking in her head from across the table. Great.

“No, one of them is a student’s parent,” I explain, annoyed that he followed me in. I need to stay away from him. It’s like he’s constantly been in my thoughts, and now he’s continually in my presence. I need to get away from him and not have him in my space, making me want him more.

“They keep looking over here,” Sam giggles.

“Just ignore them,” I tell them, trying not to make eye contact. Where’s the check? I need to get out of here fast.

“Mind if we join you?” Nix’s rough voice asks, now standing at the table, his two friends on either side.

“Sure.” Missy smiles, looking like all her Christmases came at once. The guys pull up chairs as Nix sits down next to me.

“Real smooth,” I whisper to him, annoyed that my friends have now been pulled into conversations, leaving me stuck with Nix.

“So, Miss Turner, have you got a first name?” He leans in, trapping us in our own invisible bubble. His green eyes sparkle playfully, waiting for a reaction.

“Nope, it’s just Miss Turner to you.” I pull back, breaking his spell.

“That’s okay, baby. I don’t need to know your name, just need to know how hard you like it.” His words go straight to my stomach, the sensation awakening a part of me that I thought was lost.

“You won’t ever know how hard I like it, Mr. Knight,” I snap, afraid he can see how much he affects me. He just smiles and shakes his head. The man is crass, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to hate him for it. I try to engage in conversation with the rest of the table, but with Nix next me, it’s making it hard to concentrate.

“How’s Z?” I finally cave to him, but try to steer the conversation away from anything he could turn sexual or make me want to rip my clothes off and demand he take me with his dirty mouth.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s going through some stuff.”

I nod in agreement. Z’s behavior has been way off the last couple of weeks. The fight in class is the worst of it, but since detention started, his attitude hasn’t changed. I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying anything; it’s clearly time to call a meeting with both parents to discuss my concerns.

“Hey, Kadence, did you sign up for the charity ride?” Missy asks me from across the table, pulling me away from thinking how fun that meeting would go. I shake my head, remembering Nix asking me the same question earlier. The thought of sitting close to him, our bodies touching, is too much of a temptation.

“Kadence, huh? I like it even better than Miss Turner.” He leans in close, too close for comfort, and I know if I turn my head, our noses would touch. He says my name again, trying it out on his lips, and as much as I hate myself for it, the sound coming from his mouth sends a jolt through my system.

“And Nix is your full name?” I ask, wondering if his mother called him that.

“No, Nix is short for Phoenix. Nix is just what everyone calls me.”

As much as I like it, Nix suits him more, but being the smartass I am I decide to call him Phoenix from then on. I smile and nod, trying my hardest to keep myself in check. The thought of pushing him for a reaction gets me excited. We continue to play nice, until Nix decides to push again.

“So Kadence, what’s the rule with teachers and parents dating?”

I have to laugh at that one. He’s so sure of himself. I’m sure I wouldn’t lose my job, but I don’t want him to know that. Yes, he is attractive, and sparring with him is fun, more fun than I’ve had in a while, but I’m not sure crossing that line is wise.

“Not going to happen, Phoenix,” I reply, loving that I get to call him by his name.

“So you’re stubborn and sassy. I love a good chase,” he responds, not one bit deterred.

“It would be a pretty boring chase, like a dog chasing his tail.” I smile sweetly at him. The thrill of going back at him sends a swarm of butterflies through my stomach.

“Jesus, you’re like my dream woman. Smart mouth, sexy clothes, perfect body,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not giving up on you, Kadence,” he quietly promises before his cell rings from his pocket. Standing from the table, he takes the call over near the restrooms.

I’d be lying if I said those words did nothing to me, but I have to remember it would be a huge mistake to get involved with him. Okay, not huge, but a mistake nonetheless.

I have to give him credit though. He is persistent and it’s working. Each one of his jabs tears at my resolve to keep my distance. My resolve that I don’t find him utterly drool-worthy is being tested. The truth is he is hot as sin. One night with him would make any woman happy I have no doubt, but could I possibly do one night with a man who reminds me of something that was taken from me?

I have to leave. The tension between us is too much. My choice is leave immediately or crack under the pressure of his bad-boy charm. I say my goodbyes to the table while Nix is on the phone, and quickly leave out the front, annoyed that I’d let my guard down for a minute.

“You running off?” Nix startles me from behind as I reach for my door.

“Oh, God, Nix.” I spin around and smack at his chest, annoyed that he snuck up behind me like a stealthy ninja. He grabs my wrist and before I can object, his mouth claims mine.

The light taste of beer on his lips and the warmth of his tongue demanding entry have me losing myself. Sliding his hands into my hair, he tugs back hard for better access, the sensation pulling me further into his assault. My stomach drops as our tongues collide, the throbbing between my legs beating to its own rhythm.

The kiss isn’t sweet or sensual. It’s hard and fast, just like him, and before I know it, my hands have taken over. Fisting his leather cut I pull his body to mine. His denim-covered cock presses into my stomach, making my knees weak. My brain stops functioning, my body controlling its need. I know what we’re doing is wrong, but the taste of his lips and the hardness of his arousal are telling me different. I want this man. Want everything he is doing to me and then more. His hips push further, his thickness growing against me as I lean back against the car. Knowing I caused this reaction in him sets me on fire.

“Prez,” someone calls out into the dark parking lot, breaking our connection.

“Fuck,” he whispers, bringing his forehead to mine; his breathing is as erratic as mine. “Give me five,” he yells back.

“Shit, that was a mistake,” I mutter as my fingers soothe my swollen lips.

“Like hell it was,” he hisses, taking a step back, watching me.

“I’m not interested in you,” I lie. My hands shake in front of me, the rush of adrenaline that shot through me at his touch now leaves me feeling exposed. "In fact, I have a date tomorrow night, so if you’ll excuse me.” I turn and open my door, desperate to get away. His hand comes to the door, stopping me from closing it.

“If you kiss like that when you’re not into it, I’d love to see how you kiss when you are,” he challenges with an arrogance that seems to affect me. He smirks then lets go of my door.

“I don’t intend for you to find out,” I reply before slamming my door, starting the car and driving off. I have to force myself not to look back.

SITTING in a booth the following night at Fireside Bar, I think back to Nix’s challenge. “If you kiss like that when you’re not into it, I’d love to see how you kiss when you are.”

The bastard is playing with me; I know it and now I can’t get him out of my head. I’ve known the man for all of five minutes and I can honestly say he infuriates me. Infuriates me and makes me think of things I shouldn’t be thinking about, especially about a student’s dad. Taking a sip of my cocktail, I push all thoughts of Nix Knight and his amazing kissing abilities aside and attempt to enjoy my night.

After tossing and turning all night and thinking about that kiss, I woke this morning and vowed to not think of him again. Yeah, I was failing miserably. I wasn’t lying when I told Nix I had a date tonight. My best friend Holly dragged me out tonight for a double date. She’s been seeing some guy named Ben and they thought it would be a good idea to set me up with his roommate, Braydon.

So far things haven’t progressed well, and I’m starting to regret agreeing to come along, something that I always seem to do around Holly.

Braydon is not my usual type, but he looks good, so that’s a win at least. However, everything else is lacking. I like my men to be a little manlier, a man’s man if you will. Someone who takes charge of the situation, but not someone who bosses me around, 'cause I sure as hell won’t put up with that. I spent too many years with my ex-fiancé, letting him dictate to me. I was weak back then. Now I’m not afraid to stand up for myself.

Shaking my head of thoughts that won’t change the past, I realize Braydon and Ben are still talking about the latest football game playing on the overhead screens. Great.

Looking over at Holly, I watch as she scans the club checking out the talent for the night. That’s Holly, on a date and still scoping her options. I’m about to tell her to quit when she kicks me under the table.

“What?” I whisper-yell to her as I lean forward and rub the shin where she just planted her stiletto.

“Check out the hot piece of ass that keeps looking over here,” she whisper-yells back, and I turn my head to see the man who’s been the center of my thoughts since the first day I met him, Nix Knight. Jesus, the man looks better each time I see him. I groan out loud when my eyes connect to his, and he gives me a wink. What an ass.

“Who the hell is that?” she questions, and I motion her to the ladies' room to talk.

Having escaped our table without even a glance from our dates, we push through the bathroom door when Holly starts firing out questions on who the sexy guy in leather is.

I’ve known Holly since college, meeting during first-day orientation. We realized we had a few classes together and so our friendship began. Her crazy personality brings out the fun in me, and she’s been my best friend for over ten years; not a day goes by I’m not thankful for her. When I lost my house, she welcomed me in with open arms. I survived and fought my way through recovery with her help. She came to every appointment with me, sat with me after every surgery and setback. If it wasn’t for Holly, her upbeat attitude and her crazy out-there moments, I don’t know where I'd be. Three years later, we still live together and haven’t killed each other, yet.

Pounding at the door startles me mid-way through my explanation about the badass biker who I met in my classroom last week, and the sexy, smartass man I kissed last night. The door pushes open, revealing none other than Mr. Sex On Legs himself. My best friend, or should I say ex-best friend, looks to me, her smile in place as she wiggles her eyebrows.

“I’ll just wait outside.” She looks to Nix, then back to me, mouthing, HOT, before leaving me alone with the insufferable man. Traitor.

Facing Nix, I prepare to give him a piece of my mind when he steps into my space, close enough for me to smell his cologne. Shit, don’t be swayed by the amazing smelling man, Kadence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I manage to get out while fighting the pull of his subtle cedar smell.

“I’ve come to ask you the same question, Kadence.” I ignore the fact he uses my first name. One kiss and he thinks he knows me? No, it’s more like he’s gloating that he learned it last night and now won’t stop calling me it. “What are you doing with the stick out there?” He moves closer as I step back into the counter.

“Who I date is none of your business, Mr. Knight.” I use his last name, trying to put an air of professionalism between us. Even though his assessment of Braydon is correct, I don’t need him to know my date is a bust.

“Well, you see, Kadence,” again with my name, but this time the sound comes smoothly off his tongue and sends a shiver down my spine. Hell, every single thing he says to me pulls me further into his spell. I want to slap my own face to snap me out of it. “That’s the problem, ‘cause I’m gonna make it my business. After that kiss last night, I’ve decided I need more.” His cocky attitude pulls me out of my stupidity and just pisses me off more.

“Step back,” I hiss, ignoring his line about me being his business. This guy is smooth. I’ll give him that, but I don’t fall for cheesy lines. Nix just shakes his head. “Mr. Knight, step the fuck back now,” I say again a little louder. His eyes flash with something that is unreadable, as he leans in closer.

“Oh, Miss Turner,” he rasps like he’s in pain. “My name and fuck coming out of those beautiful lips makes my cock rock hard.” The filthy words coming from his mouth should disgust me, should make me feel dirty that I find him unbelievably sexy as hell, but they don’t. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Yes, there is some fierce electricity between us, and yes, I kissed him, but nothing can happen. I should be offended, but I’m not. Instead, it sends a thrill straight through me and I fight the urge to clench my thighs to soothe the ache he has created.

“Do those lines work on all the girls, Nix?” I say his name this time, his lips dangerously close to mine. If he leaned in and kissed me, I wonder if it would be like last night’s: fierce and full of desperation.

His eyes narrow and a grin forms on his lips, lips that I know have the ability to make me come undone. “Tell me, Kadence, if I stuck my hand down these tight-as-sin jeans,” his finger trails along the tops of my pants, “and touched your pussy, would you be wet for me?” he purrs, and my body responds before my brain can catch up; the shudder runs through me. He doesn’t miss it, pushing further into me. Chest to chest. Nose to nose.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me? There are warning bells screaming at me to stay clear, but his words make me weak. I have never, ever, been so turned on in my life. Wetness pools in my lace panties and I can’t even deny he is wrong. This pull he has over me is terrifying. If he told me to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth, I’m not sure I could refuse him.

The thought appalls me, yet at the same time, I become even wetter. Shaking my head out of the lust-induced fog he puts me under, I gather some much-needed strength and push the hard muscles of his chest. “Step back,” I demand, and again he ignores me. Instead, he moves his mouth to my ear.

“Babe, I’m all for the struggle. Keep going. You’re just making me harder.” His breath caresses my skin.

My knee comes up connecting with his balls, and I cringe at the force I use. Stepping back and cupping himself, his face is a picture of agony. For a brief moment, I feel awful, hitting him where it hurts, but then I remember how much he provoked me, and subsequently, I don’t feel so sorry.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman,” he gasps, the pain knocking him breathless.

“I told you to step back,” I explain, fixing my top and ignoring the wetness between my legs. He has no right to keep teasing me with his dirty words that make me wet. Walking past him, I ignore his grunts of pain and push through the door, leaving him standing there as I make my way back to the table.

I find Holly sitting at the now empty table, a smirk on her face, but I just roll my eyes. If she only knew.

“Where are Ben and Braydon?” I ask, looking around the bar.

“Oh, your hot biker dude scared them off,” she replies on a shrug. I turn to watch Nix slowly walk back to his table. Cheers and laughter fill the air as he looks over to give me one of his fucking winks again.

“That bastard,” I grind out. I don’t know what it is about him, but he knows how to get to me.

“I need to up my game,” I say to myself more than to Holly. She laughs and declares I should just fuck him. Maybe I should just sleep with him. It wouldn’t be a hardship, that’s for sure. I’m not shy when it comes to sex, but a one-night stand with Nix? God, the thought alone leaves me craving it but I don’t know if that would be a smart move. What I do know is that I’m ready to tell him what a shitty move it was getting rid of my date. Hit a man while he’s down I say. Standing, shoulders squared, I decide I’m ready for round two. Thinking about round one, I shudder and realize I’ll need a second pair of panties.

4

NIX

RESTING the cold beer between my legs to soothe the ache, the boys give me shit for striking out. I feel the same way: the woman is a tough nut to crack.

“You ready for round two, Prez?” Beau smirks behind his beer. Turning my head, I watch as Kadence storms over. I groan as my broken dick comes to life, apparently not caught up with the news that she doesn’t like him. She stands at the end of the table, arms crossed over her chest, unaware that her position puts her sexy tits up on display.

Fuck, this woman is a tease.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say before taking a sip of my beer.

“Don’t sweetheart me. What did you say to my date?” she snaps, anger clear on her face, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful look on her. Her eyes blaze with fire and the need to push her more fills me. I can’t wait to have her under me.

“Oh, the stiff?” I ask nonchalantly. “Just told him to run along; he didn't have what it takes to play with the big boys,” I say as some of the brothers laugh into their drinks.

I’ve never pushed a woman this far before; chasing her and teasing her feels so damn good. Something about her pushes my buttons and leaves me wanting more. Most women fall at my feet begging to get in, but Kadence? No, this woman makes me want to do the begging. I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman so hard while spanking her ass at the same time. The way she reacts to me makes my dick hard and God help me, getting her riled up is a sight to see. I can see it in her eyes; she’s fighting it. She wants me and I intend to give the lady what she wants.

“What do you want, Phoenix?” she demands, uncrossing her arms and assuming a relaxed position, but I’m not stupid. The woman is crazy mad and I’ve got a throbbing dick to prove it.

“What do I want?” I repeat her question, pausing to take another pull on my beer. “Well, after your little stunt in the bathroom, I wanna pull you down on this table and spank your ass,” I tell her calmly. Even though my balls are aching, my cock is pulsing.

“You disgust me,” she hisses and turns to walk away. I grab onto her hand, turning her my way. She tries to pull out of my grasp, but my hold on her is strong.

“You don’t mean that. I’ve seen the way your eyes flash. You would love for me to spank that sexy ass right here for everyone to see. Wouldn’t you?” Embarrassment floods her cheeks, and for a beat, I think I might have pushed her too far.

“Come on, Prez. Give the girl a break,” Brooks says, smiling up at her. Brooks is the only bastard here married, and it doesn’t surprise me that he'd be feeling like a schmuck having to listen to my shit. Kadence looks around the table, realizing our conversation has an audience. Recognition flashes when her eyes land on Jesse.

“You know Jesse?” I ask. My question comes out fast and harsh.

She nods, and then mumbles, “Hi Jesse.”

What the fuck?

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replies, and I look over at him, shooting daggers. Fuck me, the little bastard’s calling her sweetheart? Hell the fuck no!

Kadence pulls back, breaking our connection, her expression guarded. “Well, I can’t say it’s been fun, Mr. Knight, but you chased my date away so I’m heading home.” She turns, retreating from her spot. Her fight abandoned as she heads back to her blonde friend.

Turning my attention to Jesse, I pin him with my don’t-fuck-with-me stare. The boys go quiet, and Jesse holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down, boss man.”

“How do you know her?” I ignore his comment, hoping he hasn’t fucked her. I wouldn't put it past him. Jesse has fucked a hell of a lot of women.

“Whoa, nothing like that, Prez. I met Kadence a few years ago back in the burns center,” he replies, looking back down at his beer.

Before Jesse patched in, he was a firefighter. After 9/11 and following in his father’s footsteps, he enlisted and served his country. After two tours and an injury that required four surgeries over two years, he was medically discharged. With a messed up foot, his firefighting career was over. Unable to work, he came back to his hometown. It wasn’t long after that he patched in. He came in when shit turned good, his uncle one of the originals, one of the men who helped me pull us clean. I can’t imagine the goofy kid ever being okay with the fucked-up shit we used to be involved with. Not being able to have the career he’s always wanted, he was in a bad place for a long time, but with the help of the club and seeing what we were about, he finally got his head straight. Volunteering his time at the local burn unit was one of the things that pulled him out of it.

Nodding my head, I take in the information. With my mind going crazy and wanting to know the details, I push further, “Well, what happened?”

“Kadence had an accident a few years back,” he explains, looking uncomfortable with revealing what went down. Looking over I see Kadence and her friend getting ready to move.

“How bad of an accident?” I push, still watching her closely.

“Yeah, not going there, Nix,” Jesse replies, shaking his head no. Fuck, I could push him for it, but I don’t have the time. Nodding my head, I stand and drop a Benjamin on the table leaving them to follow Kadence out.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but she is just too much of a temptation, one I can’t let go.

“Hey, Kadence,” I call out as I make my way out the front door. She stops and spins on her heel.

“Jesus, what now?” she snaps back. My cock stirs to life at her attitude. Fuck, I’m a goner.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is about you. Shit,” I exhale, feeling like this shit is way over my head. “I swear I don’t usually act this way. You push all my buttons.” I run my hand through my hair, frustrated I’m responding this way.

“It’s fine, Nix. I was inappropriate in there too. I don’t know what it is either, but you make it easy to fight with,” she confesses, letting out a shaky breath in defeat, and I smile, knowing I have the same effect on her. “But nothing can happen between us. Z is one of my students, and it’s frowned upon to date student’s parents,” she continues, letting me off the hook. Only I don’t want to be let off.

“Why not? If you’re feelin’ anything like I’m feelin’, then why not?” I question. “We’re both grown-ass adults. We can do what we want.”

“I don’t date,” she replies a little too quickly.

“Bullshit, I just ran your date off fifteen minutes ago,” I say smugly. The pansy prick high-tailed it out of there as soon as he got the hint.

“Yes, how could I forget?” Her eyes narrow, still pissed off at me.

“Let me take you out,” I blurt. What the fuck is wrong with me? She just told me she didn't date. When she kneed me in the balls, she must have made me lose some of my manhood because I don’t ask women out on dates. Sure, I love the chase, but that’s just to fuck, not what I’m asking of her now.

“Come on, baby. Don’t leave me hangin’. The one time I ask a woman out, she knocks me back,” I admit, prepared to begin begging. Fuck, this woman has me turned inside out.

“I find it very difficult to believe you haven’t asked a woman out?” If I didn’t know me, I would be skeptical too.

“It’s true. I don’t normally have to.” I give her a smirk and she scoffs at me.

“You’re a dick,” she snaps, turning her back to me.

“Come on, Kadence, one date,” I call out.

“Phoenix, you and I, it’s not going to work,” she informs me over her shoulder. I move closer to close the distance between us. Her friend hangs back, enjoying the show, but I’ve only got eyes for Kadence.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” I argue back, grasping her hand and turning her around. “I can see you fuckin’ want me just as much as I want you. Tell me you haven’t responded like this to someone before,” I push, hoping I’m right, and not alone feeling these things. “Just one date,” I repeat. I see her resolve starting to slip, her mind fighting her body. I can see the moment I have her.

“One date, then you’ll leave me alone?” she questions.

I smile at her, nodding my head. One date is all I need to get my fill.

“One date,” I repeat. Though deep down, something is telling me this will be more than one date. Women like her can break men like me. I’m already acting like a fool, begging for a date.

“Fine,” she agrees, nodding her head. She doesn’t look fine with it; her eyes flash with trepidation as she processes what she just agreed to, but I’m not about to give her time to think about it.

“Great, let’s go,” I say, grabbing her hand, pulling her to my side.

Pulling back slightly panicked, she yells, “What?”

“The date you just agreed to,” I say, making it simple for her, “it starts now.”

For all I know, she’ll try to blow me off next week, giving me some lame–ass excuse. If I’m getting a chance, I’m taking it now.

“Now?” Disbelief fills her voice.

“Yes, Kadence, now.” I pull her along as she fights me to stay.

“But Holly.” She looks back to her friend, no doubt pleading with her. The blonde just squeals in delight.

“Have a good night, Kadence. Text me.” She waves her goodbye.

“Hold on. Where exactly are we going?” she questions, turning back when she knows she isn’t being saved. Walking up to my bike, I motion her forward.

“We’re going for a ride,” I tell her, handing her the helmet.

“No, there is no way I’m getting on that bike,” she rushes out, shaking her head, her long dark hair flying out around her.

“Well, it’s our only form of transportation, baby.” I inform her, trying to hide my excitement of getting her on my bike.

“Stop calling me baby,” she snaps.

“Kadence, get your ass on the bike,” I tell her again with a touch more authority.

“Nix,” she sighs, using the name I prefer; however, after hearing her call me Phoenix, I think I’m beginning to like it more. “You can’t just call me baby, boss me around and demand me to get on your bike.”

“Yes, I can,” I say, walking up to her. I take the helmet out of her hands and plant it on her head.

“Nix,” she says as my fingers work on tightening the chinstrap. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“Trust me, Kadence; I won’t let anything happen to you.” She steps back shaking her head under the black helmet, and I hold back my frustration. She's gonna make me work harder for it. Pain-in-the-ass woman.

“Last chance, Kadence, get your sweet ass on my bike or I’ll put you on it,” I insist, done with the damn fight. It’s getting late and I’d much rather be doing something else than argue.

“Can’t you just tell me where we’re going and I’ll meet you there in my car?” Walking forward, I ignore her question and place my hands to her hips.

“Nix,” she screams as I lift her small frame up, turn and plant her on the back of my bike. Done, problem solved.

“This date is going great already,” she sasses, sitting further back as I climb on my ride. I laugh on the inside. I don’t know about her, but for me, a woman who gives just as good as she gets is what I call the start of a good date. However, I still feel obliged to let her know how I roll.

“Let me give you fair warning, Kadence. I tell you to get on my bike, you get on the bike. You give me sass, I’m gonna do what I told you I’d do. In this case, I planted your ass on my bike. Now, quit your bitchin’ and slide down, or your sweet ass will hit the asphalt when I take off.”

Letting out a breath in defeat, she slides forward, her short legs hugging my side. As much as I’d love to get her on the back with one of those tight skirts she wears, the tight jeans she’s wearing are enough to make this ride uncomfortable.

She doesn’t move close enough so I reach back, grab her hands and bring them around me. She gets the hint, her front now plastered to my back. Flicking the key over, I start my bike and let it come to life. The roar of my Harley’s engine growls low. The muffler builds louder, the sound filling the still night. Kadence’s grip tightens as I release the throttle, veering to the left. I take off steadily and ready to take Miss Turner on one hell of a ride.

5

KADENCE

THE WIND RUSHES PAST US, cool air bites at my skin and the ends of my long hair stream behind me. We’ve been riding for what seems like twenty minutes, and I’ve regretted every second of it.

Okay, not really, I freaking love it.

Nix’s body heat is keeping me warm, my front pressed into his back. It’s the only reason I’m plastered up behind him. If the wind wasn’t so damn cold, I’d be able to relax back a bit. Who am I kidding? His body feels amazing underneath my hands.

I am slightly concerned, however, that I’ve let this man push my buttons, kiss me senseless, speak to me dirty, demand a date and manhandle me all in the space of two nights. I know getting caught up with him could end badly. I’ve seen what men like him, and their clubs, are capable of doing. So if I know these things, know that one date with not only a biker but a parent will only end badly, then what the hell am I doing on the back of his bike, driving to who knows where, to do who knows what? I’ve lost my damn mind.

I think it’s the way he talks to me. No one has ever spoken to me the way he does, and I can’t control the reaction my body has to it. It’s not even about the bossy side of him. Zane used to be bossy but in a different kind of way, a way that left no room for argument. With Nix, it’s like his demands ignite the dirty part of me, the part that’s hidden but still leaves room to argue back. Maybe it’s not so hidden if he can ignite it with just one comment or one look. I sigh at the predicament I find myself in as I lean further into him. His hand comes down on my thigh, squeezing me, and I feel it go straight between my legs.

When he asked for a date, my first instinct was to blurt out yes. I nearly did. Holly would have loved that. I had to fight my body’s instinctive reaction to jump him right there in front of the bar, begging him to spank me just like he promised. Then I remembered I was trying to hate him and thought that would go against everything I’ve been saying to him every time he pushes me.

I don’t know why I agreed. I was so close to escaping, but deep down, I knew this was coming. He said something that made me realize he was right. I feel the same pull he feels too. I know it with every touch, every look. He’s right. I’ve never responded this way to anyone before, and giving in to that pull is something my body has been craving so much. The decision was made, and for once, I’m going to give in to temptation. I didn’t know tonight would be the night, but following the saying of just let go, I did just that. I let go.

So now I’m sitting on the back of his bike, his broad chest feeling amazing under my hands. I copped a little feel earlier when we went sharp around a corner, but after five minutes, I relaxed into him, my body automatically holding on to his ripped front, memorizing it before I see what is under his leather cut.

One date. I’ll give myself one date. One night of letting go and then tomorrow, I can analyze everything I’ve done. I’m delusional to think he will want anything more. Men like him live the hard lifestyle. Women come and go; they get their fill and move on to the next one. He even said himself one date, so whatever happens, I’m going to put it down to the undeniable tension that’s between us, and for once, act on it.

Nix slows his bike, turning the corner of a suburban street, easing into the drive of a modest two-story house. He pulls up alongside a black jacked-up Chevy. The porch light has been left on giving off a soft glow against the darkened night, making it feel warm and inviting. Shutting his bike down, Nix climbs off and leaves me sitting here wondering how the hell I’m going to get off.

“How was your first time on a bike?” He smirks, knowing I enjoyed it more than a lot.

“About as enjoyable as anyone feels being placed on the back of a bike for the first time, asshole.” He shakes his head laughing, and then reaches out to help me off.

“I like that I’m your first.” He pulls me to him. I ignore his comment, and the reaction I get from it, and step back, needing space.

“Where are we?” I look up at the house, unbuckling the chinstrap to remove the heavy black helmet. My hair gets caught as I lift it up. Nix comes forward, helping me untangle the mess.

“My place,” he explains, taking the helmet and placing it in the side bag of the bike.

“I thought we were going out for a date?” I correct him, cocking my eyebrow at his forwardness. I shouldn’t be surprised; the man has been nothing but forward.

“I didn’t say where we were goin’. I’m gonna feed you, seein’ that your date left before you ate, get to know you a little better, and then I’ll take you home whenever you want,” he informs me as we walk along the front path to his front porch.

He unlocks and opens the door and gestures me to walk through. I should say no, shouldn’t even walk through his door, but my vagina is making all the decisions.

Making my way through the front entry, I’m silently amazed at the tidiness of his home. The large open-plan living area greets us as we make our way into the room. A large kitchen to the left, opens up to the dining area, and then extends further out into the living area. Two long black leather couches look inviting, sitting in front of a huge flat screen hanging on the wall. Looking around the room, I eye all the fine details to get a glimpse of him in his element. Nix opens up a large, paneled glass door out to the backyard. Flicking the light to give me more of a view, I walk forward and look out to the decking, blown away by the size of it.

“Wow,” I breathe out, walking up to the doors. Nix walks out onto the decking and starts up the built in grill. I follow, heading to the railing that looks out to his large backyard. The in-ground pool sits to the left and a large expansive grassed area is to the right. The yard is lit up as the spotlights from the house shine over the pool area. It’s huge and amazing. I feel a slight pang of jealousy at his home, a real family home.

Turning back around, I follow his movements. Closing the outside fridge, two beers in his hand, he passes me one after popping the top.

“Thanks.” Taking a sip, I look around one more time. “Nice house.” I motion around me.

“Thanks,” he says, turning back to the grill. I take a seat, feeling a little out of my element in his house.

“So,” I begin, trying to fill the silence between us. If we aren’t fighting or being smartasses to each other, it seems we don’t have much to say.

“Just relax, Kadence. I’m not gonna rip your clothes off just yet.” And we’re back.

“Yeah, yeah, Casanova, keep it in your pants. You aren’t getting into mine.” I watch as he looks at me, before walking forward like a predator stalking his prey. He stops short of getting in my space, but his tall frame standing over me communicates his formidable power.

“Kadence, don’t lie. You and I both know that what’s in those pants is aching for my cock.” The ache was gone, but with one sentence, his deep gravelly voice has me building an itch I know he could scratch.

“You’re good, you know that?”

“Kadence, I’m more than good.” I roll my eyes at him. Seriously, the man has it bad for himself.

“Tell me honestly, does it work?” I ask, genuinely concerned. I'm hoping I’m not the only fool falling for his dirty words. ‘Cause then I really would need to talk to my vagina.

“I don’t know, Kadence. Are your panties wet?” he responds, and this time I laugh out loud. He seriously must have taken classes or something.

“Geez, Phoenix, cut the bullshit, would you? Your dirty mouth might make some girls wet between the legs, but it’s not the key to getting between mine. You need to work harder than that,” I lie, standing from my chair and taking one step into his space. The truth is his dirty words are wearing me down, and if he keeps talking about wet pussies, I’m going to pull my pants down and demand he show mine some attention.

What am I saying? Am I really considering having sex with this man? This crass, dirty, sexy man who pushes my buttons, who irritates me while at the same time manages to turn me on? Of course I am. Why else would I get on his bike? I’ve had one-night stands before, before my accident that is. Could I let him in, possibly exposing that side of me without explaining? A part of me knows if he sees it, sees the ugliness, he will be disgusted by it or at least want an explanation.

I don’t like to allow my past to define me, or let me shy away from people, but when ten percent of your body holds second-degree burns, it’s hard to let someone see it. Granting permission for anyone to see the ugliness underneath can also be deeply empowering. I have the ability to control a part of it, so it doesn’t restrict me. I’ve worked so hard to move past my insecurities of it all.

I made the decision a long time ago to own it and embrace the marks of my past, yet Nix’s presence has me faltering, second-guessing that I’m strong enough to move past it. If I’m being honest, my insecurities are coming from the strange and intense connection I have with this demanding pig-headed man. It’s like no other. His presence alone makes me feel less worthy, but at the same time, my strength keeps me holding on. I know I can’t walk away from it even if I tried. The truth in that statement is that I sit here about to have dinner with him, knowing we will only end up naked. I’ve come this far; I want this just as much as he does.

Gathering more courage, I continue to tease him, “How about if you can last all through dinner, without your filthy mouth talking about my pussy, I might give you a taste of it.” I wink and walk past him, hoping he doesn’t see through the fake bravado I’m feeling right now.

He follows me, coming up behind me, his heat at my back. “Game on, Kadence,” he breathes into my ear. His hot breath prickles my skin. I'm not sure if betting against the man is wise; I wouldn’t put it past him to play dirty.

Turning around, I smile, hiding the intense rush his words leave me feeling. Yep, I’m going to do it.

Leaning in, I whisper into his ear. “I bet you don’t last twenty minutes thinking about how wet I am between my legs.” He groans and a look of anguish washes over his face as he reaches down to adjust himself.

“You play dirty, pretty girl, but you don’t know who you’re playing with.”

He’s right. I have no idea what I’m doing, but for one night, I’m up for finding out.

6

NIX

AFTER FINISHING DINNER, we make our way inside to tidy up the dishes. I’ve been on my best behavior, and I’m satisfied that Kadence is surprised to learn that I’m not some deadbeat asshole who earns money dealing in women or drugs. Most people in town don’t know the struggle the club went through to get clean. The path my dad took was a lot different to the one I now walk down. After we lost my mom, the years that followed were what I had always said I didn’t want to live. I became a man I had vowed never to be. I didn’t want my children growing up and watching their father instill fear into a town, living a life of crime and then watch them go through life the same. After working our asses off for five years, we now successfully run two bars, a new club downtown and a new ink joint we just opened up last week. The boys are happy; the club is free from any of that old bullshit, and I wouldn’t want anything else. Except, maybe a sexy, hot teacher to warm my bed.

Our dinner conversation flowed easily, having a few jabs at each other along the way, her vexing me, me teasing her back. We didn’t talk about my ex, and I was glad not to touch on the subject; last thing I wanted to speak about with a woman is my pain-in-the-ass ex. We avoided the whole classroom scene from last week. She clearly has an issue with me being a parent to one of her students, so I steered clear of anything that could have her back-pedaling.

I don’t know what it is about this connection we have. Even in the last two hours, I feel more comfortable than I have ever before. Having a woman in my space, talking about club life is something that I would never normally do, but for the life of me, I can't seem to find a way to make myself stop. After I kissed her last night, I came home and fucking dreamt of her, of her hot mouth around my cock. Waking from the worst sleep ever, I vowed I would stop hassling her, only to have my plan ruined when she was out on a fucking date in one of my bars. I knew the moment I had seen her sitting there, looking bored out of her brain, that the guy would never be good enough for her. With a little push in the right direction, the asshole left without even a backward glance. I’m gonna cop it from the guys tomorrow, with me chasing some tail like some lovesick fool. The fuckers couldn’t make that shit up.

Telling Kadence to go sit down, I make my way back to grab one more beer. If things don’t go to plan tonight, I’ll still need to be able to drive her home. If I have my way, she’ll be in my bed tonight, and I can worry about that little detail tomorrow. I’m not getting my hopes up; with the way things sit between us, who knows how the night will end? The woman runs hot and cold. One minute, I think I’ve got her; the next, she’s playing hard to get.

Sitting down on the sofa next to her, I hand her the beer, and watch her lips closely as she takes a drink. She’s kicked her heels off in front of her. Her toes are painted a sexy pink. Seeing them naked in my home does something to my gut. I wouldn’t usually bring a woman back here, but I didn’t want to take her to the clubhouse. Saturday nights can get fucking crazy, and last thing I want her to see is the shit that can go down there.

“Are you going to be able to drive me home?” she asks, nodding at my drink. Putting my beer down beside me, I reach down and bring her right foot up to my lap. She turns her body and allows me to work my fingers, massaging the balls of her feet.

“Wasn’t planning on drivin’ you home tonight.” I smirk when her eyes flash with panic for a second.

“Is that right?” she asks as she tries to pull her foot back.

“Relax,” I say, keeping her foot there. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready,” I add, waiting for her to tell me she’s ready to go. It’s like I’m hanging on, waiting for her to put an end to this. Fuck, I’ve never worked so hard for something before.

She relaxes into a comfortable position, leaning back into the arm of the sofa. My fingers work a little harder, and she sighs her approval, the sound going straight to my dick. She must feel me growing hard under her foot; as when she looks up at me, lust flashes through her eyes. I recognize the desire flowing between us.

Without hesitation, I lean forward and press my mouth to hers. Her soft, warm lips part slowly, granting me access. The tip of her wet tongue comes out first, surprising me and spurring me on. I greet her with my own, our tongues fighting in combat, like our personalities. Taking over the kiss, my mouth captures her moans, her submission to the pleasure. The taste of her on my mouth fills me with a need to devour more of her. All of her.

Bringing her hands up into my hair, she lightly pulls at it as I bite down on her bottom lip, tugging it between my teeth. Breaking our connection, I reposition myself, bringing my knee between the juncture of her legs; I lean forward, taking her mouth again, this time a little slower. Fisting a handful of her long dark hair, I tug hard, exposing her delicate neck. Latching on, I make it my mission to mark her.

All reason has left me.

The fact that I want to leave my mark on her should have me pulling back, but the thought of her seeing them tomorrow has me sucking harder. I know she’ll be pissed, but that just makes it even better.

“Don’t you fucking leave a mark,” she pants, still fisting my hair. She pulls at it harder, the sting making me suck more.

Her heavy breathing fills the quiet room as she grinds herself up against my leg seeking the friction she needs. My greedy hands work to pull down her top, exposing her perfect tits in a fancy lace bra that makes my dick even harder. Her small erect nipples outlined by the black lace, beg for my attention. Squeezing one tightly between my thumb and finger, I roll over the fabric. She whimpers at the pressure, rubbing faster against my leg. Abandoning her neck, I take the erect nipple in my mouth, biting over her lace. Her hand reaches for my pants flicking the button open. Anticipation flows through me, begging for her soft touch. Fumbling with our position, I take over, jerking the zip down.

Kadence’s hand slides in, her tight grip squeezes me firmly. The soft pad of her thumb runs along the head of my cock gathering the drop of pre-cum. Pulling her hand free, I sit back, fascinated, yet knowing what she’s about to do. Her pink tongue slowly comes out, the teasing in her gaze has me anxiously waiting for it, and in one slow sweep, she tastes me.

Fuck that was hot.

My mouth smashes to hers, fighting access past her lips like a starved man dying of thirst for his first drink. Her hand finds its way back in my pants. Her touch is like an instant vault straight to my gut. I pull back, making work of her jeans, but her fingers stop me.

“Now, don’t go all shy on me,” I say, waiting to taste her. Fuck, I need to taste her on my lips as much as I need to breathe.

“Let’s take it to the bedroom,” she pants, pulling her legs out from under me and quickly standing. I force my breathing to calm before I follow her up taking her hand in mine, directing her up to the carpeted stairs to the master bedroom. With thoughts of taking her on the stairs, I push her up against the wall. Her hands wrap around my neck, pulling me down to her level. I drop one foot down to the stair below, her height so much shorter than my six-foot-two frame. My tongue intertwines with hers and I open my eyes to see hers closed shut. The tip of my cock sticks out from the tops of my jeans, begging me for attention. My head is in a craze, I don’t know what I want to do with her.

“Bed,” she pants, sounding just as crazy as I feel.

Pulling back, I drag her the rest of the way up to my bedroom, our bodies fumbling in the frantic need to get to the top. Flicking the light on, I walk her backwards into the room, stopping when her legs meet the side of my California King. I push her back in one fast movement and watch her fall as I pull my shirt up over my head. She comes up onto her elbows; her long hair hangs behind her. Her pert tits, still exposed from the top of her shirt, make my dick throb harder. Fuck, I need to see her. I follow her eyes as they scan over my chest, then my arms as she takes in the ink.

“Like what you see?” I smirk, knowing she does. I sure as fuck like what I’m seeing.

“You look okay.” She smiles and I know she’s playing, but the inner beast in me has me wanting to fuck her hard, and then get her to admit she’s lying.

“Can you get the light?” she requests as I continue to get my fill of her on my bed.

“What?” I look down, admiring her laying there, her lips swollen from my kiss, her glazed eyes filled with appreciation. It’s a sight I plan to burn into my memory and call on constantly.

“The light, can you get it?” she repeats, now looking unsure.

Planting my knee to the bed, I move up, my body covering hers. “Woman, if I’m getting a taste of this,” I run my finger between her tits, down her stomach and between her legs, “I wanna see every inch of it.” She shudders at my touch but doesn't say anything. I don’t know what kind of dickheads she’s been with before, but fucking her in the dark is not what I had in mind. A body like hers needs to be worshiped, not fucking hidden.

“Take this off.” I show her what I want, running my finger along the swell of her breasts. I can see she’s struggling with something, but with what I don’t know. She takes a large breath, like she’s preparing herself, and then nods with unease.

I pull back waiting for her to tell me she changed her mind or that I’ve blown it. Instead, she sits up and reaches down to grab the hem of her shirt. Lifting it above her head, she tosses it to the side. Following her movements, I watch her release her pert tits from her bra, exposing her sweetly curved mounds. My hands find them immediately, the creamy flesh fitting just right in my hold. Capturing a rose-tipped nipple with my finger and thumb, I look back up at her. “Lose the pants, Kadence.”

She pushes me back. My hold is lost as she stands in front of me. Our positions switched, I sit back and get ready for the show. Her movements are slow; her body turned slightly as I watch her pull them straight down her legs leaving her panties in place. Turning somewhat back to me, she cocks her eyebrow, waiting for me to get my fill.

“Jesus.” I hold back a sigh. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight. I knew she was beautiful, but standing there in front of me? Fuck. Her soft porcelain skin shines against the glow of the ceiling light and her long, dark hair hangs over her breasts. There’s this air of innocence about her, but at the same time, I know this woman could destroy me.

Her black lace panties hold all of my attention, the lace showing a little of the milky skin underneath. I’m anxious to see what’s under there, to taste her on my tongue.

“Come here,” I demand, ready for more. She turns her body face on, and then takes one slow step to me, my eyes fixed on hers. Taking another step toward me, I reach forward, putting my hands to her waist, ready to pull her the rest of the way when I feel something under my fingers.

Moving my hand away, I take a closer look. She stops frozen as I run my eyes over the damaged skin. “Turn.” My tone surprises me, the demand not meant to come out harsh as my eyes follow the path of the nasty scar. She does as she’s told, turning to her side without argument, revealing her marred left side. Her flawless porcelain skin is scarred red and raw from the side of her waist to the high thigh. “Kadence?” My eyes search hers, waiting for an answer to my unasked question. I now know that Jesse was talking about this.

Looking back down, I can’t take my gaze away from the angry, rigid skin. Her waist bears the worst. She pulls her leg away, turning her body to hide herself from me. My eyes look up and lock onto hers again not sure how to proceed. Pain, anger and determination stare back at me, waiting for my reaction. I feel tightness pull in my stomach as I look at her standing there vulnerable, but I don’t react. The recognition that she survived something violent bothers me; I want to protect her from whatever nightmare she lived.

“What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice leveled so she doesn’t pull back.

“I was in a fire,” she answers with no emotion, no explanation. Her hands go to cover herself, but I reach forward to stop her. I want her to tell me every fucking detail, how it happened, why it happened, but I know she wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to share, the look in her eyes telling me it’s a no-go zone.

I stand, let her hands go, and move into her space. Leaning down, I kiss her soft lips, letting her know she doesn't have to talk about it with me. She stands rigid, our brief moment still hanging between us. We’re both quiet for a moment, staring back at each other. Unasked questions stir between us, both of us fighting our own battles. My hand goes to her heat, impatient to continue past the strange feelings flowing through me. Moving the lace material aside, I slide a finger down her bare center, and find her wet and hot.

She closes her eyes, becoming lost in the feeling. When she reopens them, desire replaces her apprehension. Lust replaces the anger. Spreading her open, I insert one finger into her tightness and lose myself in her snug heat. I pull out slowly, and then enter her again with a second finger.

“I can’t wait to taste this sweet pussy, Kadence,” I tease her. Her breathing labors as I work her over. Her hips come forward, rolling in a desperate effort seeking pleasure.

“Get on the bed,” I order, removing my fingers and stepping back. Mumbling her annoyance, she walks to the bed, crawling to the center. The sight of her on her knees has me following her close behind. She turns and lays flat, her knees coming up, bent and closed together. I pull back and press my hands to her knees, spreading her wide. Moving down her body, the overpowering urge to taste her has my head between her legs. I calm my breathing; I don’t need to blow my load before taking her. Reaching up, I pull her panties straight down, not slowly or delicately, but roughly. She looks down her body to me, her cheeks flushed with arousal as I inhale her sweet musky scent. Running my nose along her seam, I lightly touch her center, tormenting her with feather-like touches. God, she tastes amazing.

“Quit teasing me,” she breathes out. I ignore her request even though the sound of her bossy, sexed-up voice goes straight to my cock. Instead, I run my tongue along all the places that won’t take her over the edge, teasing and savoring her taste. If I only have one night, I’m gonna fucking enjoy it. Her hand comes down, ready to reach the spot herself, but I grab her around the wrist, capturing it before she makes contact.

“Hands above your head,” I demand. As much as I would love to watch her play with herself, I just don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself in check right now.

“Fuck off, Nix. Just give me your mouth,” she spits out, her impatience coming through. I have to admit, I’m beginning to like every side to Kadence, but her feisty side? Fuck, it could undo me.

“Kadence, I’m not going to tell you again, put your fuckin’ hands over your head, or you ain’t getting my tongue.” She huffs out her frustration as I blow my warm breath to her center.

“Fucking asshole,” she hisses between clenched teeth, but I only smile at her frustration. She’s just where I want her.

“I already told you, babe; I love it when you talk dirty to me.” I add more pressure, and she calls out. Her hand comes down again and grabs my hair, the slight sting going straight to my throbbing cock.

“Hands, Kadence,” I warn again directly into her sweet pussy, and she immediately obeys. Grinning into her dark haven, I award her with more pressure. Her hips reply, pushing into my face as I run the flat of my tongue up her middle.

“Fuck, honey.” Her voice is hoarse as she nears her release. My tongue flicks harder, faster as I insert a finger, hooking it to find her G-spot. Her legs seize up, locking around my ears, and I know I’ve found the right spot. I feel her body tense, her orgasm closing in. As much as I want to take her over this very second, I want to feel her tighten around me, hugging me when I first make her come. I slow my movements, pulling my finger out from inside her.

“What the hell?” she pants, confused that I just stopped. “You rotten asshole!” She kicks at me as I stand to drop my pants. My neglected cock springs free, glad to be let out and begging to be deep inside of her.

“Kadence, I wanna bury myself deep in that tight little pussy the first time you come,” I tell her, as I lean over and pull out a condom from the bedside drawer. Ripping it open with my teeth, I take my cock in my hand and stroke it a few times to soothe the ache. Her eyes shine in appreciation at each rough caress. Watching Kadence watch me, I roll the condom on and climb back between her legs. Lining myself up at the apex of her thighs, I lazily rub the head through her wetness.

“You’re an asshole,” she complains when I keep teasing her. I’m not trying to tease her; I’m trying to calm my raging thoughts of fucking her within an inch of her life.

“I don’t know how long I’m gonna last, Kadence. You’ve got me so wound up,” I admit. The taste of her covering my tongue and the sight of her laying underneath has me hanging on by a thread.

“Just fuck me, would you?” She hooks her feet behind me, greedy for me to fill her.

“Kadence,” I growl as I ease myself inside of her. Jesus, I feel like I just found home. I try to switch my mind off and not surrender to the need of losing control and planting myself balls deep.

I draw out, and then inch my way in further, building momentum each time I slide into her heat. Her knees move up to accommodate me.

"Harder." Her breath comes out raw, her eyes burning with need. My speed picks up. I’m more than happy to meet her demands as I begin to pound into her. I feel my restraint slowly slipping as she comes up to meet each thrust. The sound of our bodies colliding, the soft whimpers leaving her mouth, all drive me forward, spiraling me into my sexual nirvana.

“Harder, Nix,” she complains and my body responds as my movements become harsh, taking her the way I want to take her. “Yes,” she cries out, receiving all that I give her while still begging for more. Fuck, I’m starting to suspect I’ve met my match.

Reaching down between us, I find her clit and flick it hard, worrying that I’m not gonna get her there before I blow my load. “Fuck, so tight,” I grunt out with each thrust. “I could fuckin’ live in here.” I grind my hips harder into her. Her body responds to my dirty words like I knew she would.

“See how good you feel?” I urge as she arches to meet each powerful thrust. She gasps when I pound my hips harder into her.

“Fuck, my cock is never gonna get enough,” I admit, the words leaving my mouth before I can censor it. It’s the truth. The feelings of never having her again make my body hum in frustration.

Her snugness is too much for my worked up state. Her soft cries of pleasure come out louder, letting me know she’s close. I try to think of something, anything other than the tightness of her pussy milking me.

“Fuck, I can’t hold it.” Her deep confession is all I need.

“Come,” I demand as she tightens around me. My eyes follow her hands as she grabs her tits, squeezing the tight little nipples between her fingers and screaming out her release, thrashing below me. A red flush floats across her neck and chest, her orgasm evident on her skin. The sight of it takes me over. Letting go, I feel my balls tense up, and a sensation run through me as I continue to pound into her, thrusting once, twice, and then a third time before exploding inside of her with a deep groan.

“Fuck me,” I get out, between breaths.

“I just did,” she jokes and I look down, leaning my forehead to hers. A light sheen of sweat over hers mixes with mine.

“Fuck,” I say again. It seems like I’ve lost some brain cells or she just fucked them out of me. My breathing takes a while to come back to normal, so I stay buried inside of her.

She lays quietly, watching me closely, a comfortable silence between us. Her neck and chest still show signs of the red rash that I watched spread across her chest. I thought watching her get fired up was beautiful. Boy was I wrong. Her lying under me, her eyes softened after an intense orgasm, there isn’t anything more beautiful. I run my fingers along the blush. “Fuck, you lit right up for me,” I say and watch a new blush cover her cheeks.

“Don’t go shy on me. It was so fuckin’ hot. I wanna see it again,” I tell her as I slowly pull out of her warmth, my body fighting the urge to stay planted. Leaning down, I take Kadence’s mouth one more time, the kiss gentle but still hungry. Taking care of business, I take myself to the bathroom, telling her to stay where she is. If our first time is anything to go by, there is no way I’m letting her out of my sight.

Washing my hands, I grab a clean washcloth and wet it down. Never in my life have I taken care of a woman like this, but the impulse to look after her is too much to neglect. Walking back out, I see her sitting up on the side of the bed, her panties in place as she reaches for her jeans and straightens them out.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused, considering I just told her to stay put. I am nowhere near ready for her to be gone, and if she thinks she’s leaving, she has another thing coming.

“I should get going,” she explains, picking up her denim jeans. Walking back over to the bed, I snatch them from her hands and throw them across the room.

“Nix!”

“No way in hell am I finished with you, woman,” I smirk, pushing her back to the bed. She yelps as I land on top of her, her face loses the uncertainty, and her legs come around me, hugging me closer.

“You think you’ve got it in you to go again?” she challenges in her sassy tone.

“Kadence, that was just a starter.”

“Well, if that’s the starter, I can’t wait for dessert.” She smiles her fucking beautiful smile.

Yep, no fucking way I’m finished with her.

7

KADENCE

WHY DID I have sex with him? I sit here wanting to curl up and die. Because you listened to your vagina.

Five days after the most amazing sex of my life, I regret every second of it. Okay maybe not the orgasms; those I would never regret. Why for the life of me I thought things would be fine I have no idea, but now, I’m about to endure the most uncomfortable situation known to mankind and I only have myself to blame. Stupid woman, Kadence.

A knock at my door brings me from my thoughts, and I stand ready to come face to face with Z’s mother, Addison Knight, and her ex-husband. The same man, who only five nights ago, was bringing me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

Fucking kill me now.

“Hello, Ms. Knight,” I say, coming around from the desk, hoping I don’t break out in a panic attack. “I’m Miss Turner.” Her bright blue eyes size me up, and in one second, I feel reduced in her gaze. Her curvy figure, long legs and straight blonde hair are the complete and total opposite to me. I’m not a self-conscious person, other than my scar. I know I’m not ugly, but standing next to this tall, beautiful woman, it's like she just handed me a cup of self-doubt and forced me to drink from it.

She nods briefly, barely giving me her attention, looking around the room before taking a seat.

“My husband will be here in a moment,” she states only to remind me of my mistake again. Oh, God, did she just say what I think she did? I try not to let the panic that’s building on the inside show at hearing her call him her husband. What if they’re not even divorced? How could I be so stupid? I can’t even think about that right now. I need to keep myself composed and ready to see him again. Shaking it off, so I don’t have a meltdown, I nod and walk back around my desk, wanting to have some space between myself and the soon-to-be-present Mr. Knight. I knew he was coming tonight. When I sent home a note for the meeting, Z returned it saying both his parents would be attending. I’ve had the whole day to process the situation and how I got myself into it. Asking myself over a thousand times why I would do such a foolish thing, for the life of me I can’t give myself a perfectly honest answer. Except that I wanted him. I still do. Shit.

The sound of his motorcycle boots on the vinyl floor again warns me of his presence, the tap on the door verifying he’s here

“Hey, baby,” Ms. Knight calls to him as he walks straight past her and sits down in front of my desk. He flat out ignores her and only has eyes for me. Bright green eyes, full of anger and questions. Oh, shit, he’s pissed that I left.

“Hello, Mr. Knight.” I smile at him like the professional I am.

I can do this; just don’t think about his head between your legs, Kadence.

His eyes narrow more and his tongue comes out to swipe his lower lip, reminding me how well he knows how to use it. Fuck, how am I not supposed to think about how many times that tongue made me come? I swallow past the uneasiness I feel having him in front of me.

“Miss Turner,” he drawls, and if I didn’t know he was angry, I would now with the way he speaks my name.

Steeling myself to talk, I focus my attention to Zayden’s mom. She’s oblivious of the tension between Nix and me, too busy looking at her phone. “Thank you both for seeing me tonight.” I smile, wishing it to be over with already. “I called you both here to discuss my concern regarding Z’s behavior.”

“Zayden.” Ms. Knight’s head snaps up, her voice lashing out like a pissed-off momma.

“Sorry?” I look at her confused, wondering why she just barked his name back at me.

“His name is Zayden, not Z,” she spits out. I didn’t even realize I called him Z. Most of the kids in class call him Z, and after spending the night with Nix, I can’t help but call him that.

“Don’t fuckin' start, Addison,” Nix speaks, his voice tightly controlled with anger. Still not looking her way, his eyes are firmly on me, silently claiming whatever it is he has to say. No doubt I’ll be hearing it soon.

“His name is Zayden, Nix. Only his family calls him Z,” she states, and I have to give it to her. She is a bitch, and I don’t say that lightly. Jesus Christ.

“No, that’s fine,” I reply, dismissing her drama. Nix’s brows furrow more, and for a brief moment, I think he must have a headache. No, forget it. You know he’s pissed at you, Kadence..

I’m not going to lie; our night together was intense, more than intense. It was fierce and passionate, and most alarming of all, it felt right. I’ve had lovers who I would say were great, but Nix? He consumed me and exceeded my expectations, and then ruined me.

After the first time, Nix made sure he looked after me repeatedly. We both cut the bullshit bickering. Even though that part of our attraction is fun, it was as if we had finally found a level ground. I finally started to relax and we opened up to each other more. Since my accident, I have always kept myself covered, especially when being intimate. The one other person I’ve been with since the accident never argued with my request to turn the lights out or keep my clothes on. Even alone in the safety of my own bed, I’ve kept myself shielded. Until Nix. I knew he would push the issue. I saw it in his eyes when I asked him to turn the light off. He’s not the type of man to back down. So instead of pushing him away and hiding myself, I sucked it up and exposed the one piece of myself I don't like people to see.

For one night, I allowed him to see my scarred body. I laid bare the ugliness that I keep hidden, the disfigured part of me that no matter what I say, no matter what I do, will always stare back at me, reminding me that I’ll never be the same woman I was.

Creeping my way out in the early hours of the morning was low; I’m not going to deny it, but the whole night was a whirlwind of contradictions. After our second round, I was becoming too comfortable in his home, laying naked in his bed. I knew I was in way over my head and Nix was showing no signs of brushing me off. We connected, and as much as that sounds clichéd or even pathetic, we both felt it. It terrified me. It made me feel things that I had no business feeling, so I did the only thing I thought I could do. I ran. I ran so I wouldn’t have to face him and try to explain why we shouldn’t see each other again. Only now, it’s so much worse.

Remembering I’m sitting in front of the very person I tried to avoid, I force my mind to forget Nix and our night together, and focus on the reasons why we are here.

“Zayden’s —” I say, looking directly at Ms. Knight, making sure I use his full name. I watch her roll her eyes but I continue, “— recent behavior in class concerns me. This last week alone, I’ve had to pull him out of class every day for his rude behavior to not only the other students but also to me. He’s not concentrating. I’ve found it hard to engage with him and now he’s just completely withdrawn. In the span of few weeks, I’ve seen him go from easygoing to downright angry.” I take a breath hoping I don’t mess this up. I’m trying to keep it together, but the way Nix keeps looking at me, I'm about to fall into a mess on the floor.

Nix’s gaze softens. He nods his head, agreeing with my assessment, while Z’s mom just stares straight at me, no emotion to the facts of what I’m telling them. “I’m not sure if something has happened that you know of, something that could be making him lash out, or if it’s something in the playground or the classroom, but I’m concerned. I have tried to talk with him, pulled him aside to see if I could help, but I don’t feel like I’m getting through. At this stage, I would suggest the school counselor, someone neutral he can speak with, without any judgment. I can schedule that for him but I thought it was best to bring it to your attention first, offer you a chance to see if you want to address the issue yourselves,” I say, treading carefully. I’d hate to think that something at home could be causing it, but nine times out of ten, these sorts of things are.

“Well, I can assure you it’s nothing at home. Isn’t that right, babe?” Addison looks over at Nix.

“Jesus, woman, will you cut the fuckin’ act?” Nix bellows out. I’m startled for a moment. The intensity of his voice after being so quiet echoes in the empty classroom. His fist comes down on the desk in front of him, frightening me at the loud bang.

“Addi.” He turns to face her, his large frame in a smaller chair looking every bit uncomfortable. His nickname for her does something to me that I have no idea how to process. “You and I both know something is going on with Z. I told you last week to talk to him. You failed to do it. Now, for once in his goddamn life, will you be the fucking mother I know you can be.” He runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“Nix, he is fine,” she responds, shaking her head like this whole thing is a waste of her time. “This is ridiculous. You know our son; it’s just hormones. Let him be a boy.”

I suddenly feel like I shouldn't be in this conversation. For one, I do not agree with her. Yes, Z is a boy, probably about to hit puberty, but he has gone from top of my class to detention every day; something is not adding up.

“Like fuck it’s hormones. I've seen him pull back, and if you were a good mother, you would have seen it too. I fuckin' knew this shit was comin’,” Nix argues, shaking his head.

Looking over at Addison, I see her face fall and I feel a little sorry for her. If my husband, ex or not, spoke to me in front of someone like that, I too would feel embarrassed.

“Maybe I can suggest—” I begin to say before Addison cuts me off.

“No, that’s quite all right. You’ve done enough. Thanks for letting us know. We will deal with this at home, as a family,” she responds coolly, rising from her chair. She looks down at Nix. “Will you walk me out, Nix?”

“Sit your ass down, now,” he instructs her, still looking at me, not buying into her dramatics. She stands for a moment longer, not sure what to do, until she finally sits.

“Is there anythin’ else?” His anger is evident, but I can feel his concern. I don’t know what to say. I want to encourage them to seek some help, advise that ignoring it will only make it worse, but after Addison’s outburst, I’m afraid I’ll just argue with her. The woman apparently doesn’t give a shit, but I do, and if I were his mother, I would be doing everything to find out what was happening.

“Z’s not a bad kid,” I say, knowing I just used the name Z, but my eyes are now firmly on Nix because he seems to be the only one concerned for his son. “But I am certain something is or has happened. Giving him detention every day for his behavior isn’t going to stop him. He has proven that each time when he pushes further. I think if we can work together, then we can help him sort through this,” I finish. Nix looks worried as he takes in my advice. Addison just looks bored.

“I don’t believe my concerns are unwarranted,” I add before Addison starts to whine again. “You know yourselves something is not right. At the very least, I would suggest talking to him, encouraging him to open up, but if that’s something that you don’t think he will talk to either of you about, then the school counselor is going to be your best outcome.”

“Book it in,” he agrees.

“Nix,” Addison whines beside him.

“Shut it, Addison. I told you to talk to him last week. I’ve tried talkin’ to him but he won’t open up to me. Far as I know, it could be somethin’ I’m doin’.” He looks to me again. “Book it in.”

I nod, agreeing with his decision.

“Nix, we can sort this out as a family.”

“Family?” He looks to her like the idea of it offends him. “We stopped being a fuckin’ family when you stopped caring.”

“Nix.”

“Save it, Addison. Let's go,” he orders, rising from his chair.

She huffs out a breath standing, and then storms herself out of the room.

“Thanks’ for lettin’ us know. Appreciate it,” Nix mutters, still not looking at me.

“No problem. I hope we can sort it out,” I reply, still waiting for him to look at me. Now that his eyes have left mine, I feel a sense of loss. He nods and then, without a backward glance, he follows Addison out, leaving me alone.

Releasing a shaky breath, I lean forward over my desk and try to get my racing heart under control. I congratulate myself on getting through my first encounter with him. Granted, he was pissed we didn’t talk, but obviously something is going on with Z and that’s our main concern right now. I just hope we can sort it out and get him to open up before his behavior escalates. I’m glad that I got through the meeting. I just pray next time I see him, he will be over his anger, and we can carry on as if nothing has happened. I hope I can say the same for myself. Falling for a sexy hot biker is one thing, a parent to one of my students is another.

8

NIX

WALKING BACK INTO HER CLASSROOM, I slam the door shut. The loud bang vibrates the walls in the empty room. My anger is barely controllable. Between her and Addison, I need to calm myself, but I don’t know how. Her head comes up fast from her paperwork, and confusion washes over her face.

“What?” she begins to say before I hold my hand up, cutting her off. I have no time for her fucking bullshit excuses. I’ve come back in order to say what I need to say.

“You got two options here, Kadence. Shut it and let me talk, or have me bend you over the table and spank your ass for the shit you pulled the other night.” Her mouth closes fast, and my eyes are drawn to her throat, watching the movement of her swallowing. Great, I have her fucking attention.

Once I walked Addison out, I gave her another wake-up call: either start helping me parent our child or I take sole custody. She left in a huff, annoyed that I was siding with Kadence. It’s not about taking sides. Something is going on with our son and I don’t know how to get through to him. Kadence is right; we need to get a handle on this. I hung back trying to calm myself before getting on my bike pissed. Between the piss-poor excuse Addison just showed as a mother and the uneasiness I’m feeling knowing Z is dealing with some shit, there was no way I would have been able to ride. Something is going on with my boy and knowing that he won’t talk to me guts me.

When I first got the notice that Kadence called a meeting, a small part of me thought that she was playing her games again, a test of some kind. That theory went out the window when I saw her sitting there, uncomfortable beyond anything, while at the same time trying not to respond to me. Waiting five minutes did nothing to calm me, so I decide I needed to confront her. I needed to know why she ran.

After checking the halls to make sure no one was hanging around, I discovered we were the last ones here for the day, making this the perfect time to have it out with her. Waking up alone in bed on Sunday, I was pissed, beyond pissed, and for the last five days, I’ve been stewing on it.

“What the fuck, Kadence?”

“What?” she stammers, and my hand comes up, silencing her again as I walk closer. She instantly quiets, and I can’t hide my smile at the way she responds to my demands. Her eyes narrow at my smugness, but I don’t give her chance to throw attitude. I’m already on the edge; her smartass mouth might just push me over.

“Push it, cause I’m itching to spank your ass, woman,” I say, hoping that’s how we will end here tonight. “Why’d you leave?” I ask the question that’s been going around my head all week. She looks at me not saying anything, the silence deafening in the small room. “Are you going to answer me?” I demand after a moment of her just watching me.

“Oh, I can talk now, can I?” she retorts, folding her arms over her chest.

Running my hands over my face, I let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck me. You always this difficult?”

“Only when men think they can boss me around,” she responds, rising from her chair. “Go home, Nix. We’re done. We agreed to one night. No need to get worked up about it,” she says, walking around to the front of her desk. She’s wearing another one of those fucking tight skirts again, and it just pisses me off more.

“Bullshit. You and I were both there that night. Don’t act like you didn’t feel it,” I say, revealing more than I wanted.

She had snuck out sometime in the early morning and I didn’t even notice. Sure, we agreed it was a one-night thing, but it still pissed me off that she didn’t say goodbye, or didn't give me a chance to let her know I wanted to see her again. If I'm being honest, it was more than that. I thought we had made a connection. Yeah, she was my kid’s teacher, but it’s not like we couldn’t work past that. The night turned from intense sex to something more, something I wanted to explore. Fuck, I sound like I grew a pussy overnight. I never acted like this. Fuck knows why I’m starting now.

“Phoenix, I had a great night, but this thing between us,” she motions her hand in front of her, “it won’t work.” I move closer, now standing in front of her.

“Bullshit, Kadence,” I argue. “You and I both know that’s not true. The three times I had you proved that we would work.” A slight blush strokes her cheek.

“Just because we had good sex doesn’t mean anything, Nix,” she fights back, thinking that’s all this was. Fuck no.

“It was more than good sex, Kadence. It was fuckin’ phenomenal. You know it. I know it.” She rolls her eyes, but not before I get a glimpse of her agreement.

“Turn around and put your hands on the desk,” I demand, wanting to remind her just how good it was. My control slips each time she informs me we won’t work. I'll fucking show her just how much we work.

“No,” she fires back, but I can see the fight in her body.

Leaning in closer, I reach out and grab her from behind the neck. Her body shivers at the contact and I smirk knowing how much I affect her.

“Turn around and put your hands on the goddamn desk,” I grit out the demand again, knowing that she’s fighting an internal battle. She holds her ground, not giving in. I’m not surprised though; she’s more bullheaded than me.

“Come on, Miss Turner. Let me soothe that ache I know you got buildin’,” I murmur into her ear. I don’t miss the tremor that runs through her body, before she slowly turns, bends forward and places both hands on the desk. Fuck, yes. Her submission stirs my cock to life.

“Shit,” she hisses, like her body didn’t listen to her. “We could get caught,” she says, shaking her head at what she’s doing.

“We’re here alone and I locked the door,” I tell her as my hand goes to her skirt. Lifting the material, I nearly blow my load seeing the sexy as fuck getup she’s got going on underneath.

“Oh, baby, you wear this for me?” My finger trails the lace of the top of her stockings. The white lace thong she’s wearing shows off the globes of her cheeks. Slapping my hand down on her skin, she lets out a deep groan at my contact. “Fuck, you like that?” I smile, leaning into her. It was one thing we didn’t do the other night. One thing I’m going to rectify right now.

She doesn’t answer me, so I pull back, bringing my hand down again harder. She cries out as I rub the red area. “Answer me, Kadence. You like bein’ spanked?” I bite out as I run my finger along the seam of her thong. I can feel her heat over the lace, and I order my body to take it slow before I rip the offending item off and bury myself home.

“Yes,” she cries, no shame in her admission.

“Good girl. Now tell me, did you wear this sexy outfit for someone else?” I ask again, bringing my hand down on her ass, hoping she doesn’t say yes.

“No.” She gasps as I press my body against hers, my hard cock letting her know what she does to it.

“Then who did you wear it for?” I question, pulling back and running my finger down her crack.

“Me,” she replies, but I don’t believe her. We both know she wore this for me; probably took her time finding something to tease me with.

Hooking my finger under the string, I pull back the elastic and slide my pointer down her bare center.

“Are you soakin’ for me, Kadence?” I already know the answer when my fingers find her arousal.

“God, yes,” she squeaks as my finger enters her in one forceful movement. Her wetness makes it a smooth entry, and I pull out, adding a second finger. Her hips jerk forward as I begin pumping her harder. Fuck, she is responsive; even the other night she caved to my every command. She might have fought me, but when push came to shove, she fucking caved.

“You like my cock the other night?” My fingers fuck her harder after every question.

“Yes, God, yes,” she pants out, riding my fingers.

“You want my cock now, Kadence?” I ask, feeling her tighten around my fingers. Yeah, she wants my cock, fucking greedy pussy.

“Yes, fuck me, Nix.” Her voice takes on a new tone as I build her up to the brink

“You sure you want my cock?” I ask as my thumb finds her clit.

“Yes!”

“Keep your hands on the desk and don’t let go, okay?” I say, stepping back from her. My cock is straining in my jeans, and I’m sure she’s gonna fucking hate me for it but I have to do it. I have to fucking teach her a lesson.

“Sorry, babe, I gotta go,” I say, watching her head come up, turning to look over her shoulder.

“Don’t fuck with me, Nix,” she sneers, standing and turning to face me. Her eyes are inflamed with passion. Her hair’s slightly tussled in her pony. Her skirt’s hiked up, exposing her pussy, and the lace tops of her stockings are making my dick twitch harder, yelling out to not be an asshole and bury myself in her.

I lick my fingers clean, rolling my eyes at her sweet taste, I’m a fucking idiot; her taste has me questioning my sanity. “Why did you leave?” I ask one last time, her eyes watching my fingers. I need to know I’m not the only one feeling like it was a little more. She has to feel it too.

“Phoenix, get out,” she fumes, pulling her skirt down, pissed I played her. As much as I want to argue with her, demand that she tells me why, then make her beg me to fuck her, I don’t. I’m already on edge and probably shouldn’t have come back in, but seeing her again stirred the want in me and I knew I couldn’t fight it. I watch her, wondering if I have lost my fucking mind. Was I the only one to feel it? She takes a shaky breath, her eyes ablaze with irritation, but I see the need in them. I know she’s lying, but what can I do?

Her eyebrows rise, waiting for what I don’t know. For me to argue some more? I don’t. Tonight has pushed me too far. Instead, I turn and walk out of her classroom. I'm pissed that she’s just too damn stubborn, and hope like fuck next time I see her, she has her head out of her ass and is ready to admit the truth: that I’m not the only one feeling this fucking connection.

9

KADENCE

I WAKE to the sound of Holly banging around in the kitchen. Fuck, kill me now; the woman wouldn’t know a sleep in if it hit her in the face.

It’s Saturday morning. Ten days since Nix spanked me and then left me laid bare on my desk, begging him to fuck me.

I have no idea what I was thinking letting him get to me.

Since our classroom meeting last week, I haven’t seen or heard from him. It’s not like I’d try to contact him. Sleeping with him the first time was a mistake. Bending over while he finger fucked me, well, that was something else. It’s like I can’t control the effect he has on me. Getting in my space and demanding to take me on my school desk was one of the hottest things I have ever done. Leaving me standing there horny and pissed off was not. The anger that flowed through me after realizing he played me has kept me grounded in my belief that I can’t stand the man, and I’m more of an idiot for thinking it would be an easy one-night deal.

Groaning into my pillow, I force myself not to think about the asshole today, just like every other morning this last week, but every goddamn day, I fail miserably.

My door suddenly swings open, connecting with the wall behind.

“You still sulking over your sexy biker daddy?” Holly walks in, throwing herself right onto my king-size bed.

“No,” I lie a little too quickly, moving over to let her lay down.

“I call bullshit.”

“You can call it whatever you want. Like I’ve told you every time you asked, it was a mistake.”

Holly pounced on me the moment I walked through the door Sunday morning. After giving her all the details, she then continued to pick apart everything that we did and chewed me out for leaving him. I promised I would think about calling him, but I was more concerned how she dealt with Ben after he ditched us at the bar. I knew she was going to dump his ass for leaving us. I felt a little bad that it was because of what Nix did but she didn’t seem to mind, claiming he was lousy in bed anyway.

I’ve kept my sulking on the down low or at least in the confines of my room, but you don’t get too much past Holly. I’m glad I managed to keep my second mistake with him from her. I already feel like a royal idiot. I don’t need anyone else knowing. Besides, she will probably encourage me to see him again, even going as far as inviting him over for a home-cooked meal, and that’s the last thing I ever want.

Lies. Yep, I’ve turned into the biggest liar.

If he walked in right now, I’d probably let him have his way, probably wouldn’t even care if Holly watched.

Getting to know him the other night, I realize I was such a judgmental bitch. He’s got great things going on with the club, a successful business owner, and he’s a great dad, not to mention he’s amazing in bed. His reaction to me leaving shouldn’t have surprised me. I knew it was coming, could see it in his stare. The air of electricity around him while I sat there had me on alert. I wasn’t expecting the disappointment in his eyes when he asked me for the truth and I lied. But Z is my student, and I should have never crossed that line. I can’t believe I let him get to me; I caved so easily.

Holly watches me carefully, but doesn’t say anything else; she simply shakes her head.

“So what're your plans for the weekend?” She changes the subject, knowing she won’t get anything out of me. I sit up, reaching for my Kindle laying next to my bed.

“The second book in the erotic series I’ve been reading went live this week. I’m planning to stay in and read.” I smile, excited for the kinky fuckery coming my way. I look up and watch Holly fake yawn.

“Blah, jeez, Kadence, you can’t get more cliché. Hot teacher spends her weekends reading sexy erotic novels.” She laughs and I throw my pillow at her head.

“Shut up, Holly. I read for educational purposes too,” I argue.

“Oh, yeah? Like how to hit your G-spot? I have no idea how you read them. Seriously I can’t get past how the guy will blow his load into the woman bare, and she gets up and walks a fucking mile without that shit falling out.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Kadence, it’s bullshit. Some dude with super sperm blows his load in me, that shit is still coming out hours later.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Lies, it’s all lies, Kadence,” she yells passionately, before rising from my bed. I roll my eyes at her dramatics but can’t argue with her.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she sings, exiting my room. “We have big plans today,” she yells out as she makes her way back down the hall. Yeah right, the only plans I have are with my trusty Kindle.

Ignoring her is always the best route. Instead of biting, I make my way down to our shared bathroom. I use the toilet first, and then brush my teeth.

When I first moved in with Holly, she was living uptown with her older brother Sam. In the beginning, it was temporary. I had just lost my house, and it was going to take time to get me back on my feet. We soon realized my life was going to take a while to get on track. The surgeries, the money, it was all adding up. As much as I love my mom and dad, I didn’t want to live with my parents outside of town, so Holly decided we needed our own place, like back in college. We moved out, got a place closer to town, and also closer to work, and I focused on moving past the shit Zane had done.

At the time, I had no interest in going back to work. My life was falling apart around me; half my house burnt to the ground; my safety was in jeopardy and my body was fighting to heal. I didn’t know who to trust. My fiancé had cleaned out my savings; a group of very dangerous men were after him, and he simply left me to pick up the pieces. It took time, but eventually, I came out on the other side stronger for it.

Finished with my morning routine, I walk down the short hall to the kitchen ready to argue with Holly about our so-called plans. Our unit is small but still has a kick ass kitchen with state of the art appliances, open plan living and an amazing view. Furthermore, living on the third level in the building makes us a little safer than the lower levels; something I was adamant about when looking for a place. I needed to feel safe, knowing that people can easily tear down your defenses.

Holly is frying bacon at the stove as I make my way straight to the coffee machine.

“So tonight I’m heading into the new club Liquid that just opened,” she mentions as I pour cream into my coffee.

“Mmmhh,” I say, turning to face her, looking over the rim of my cup. I know what she is about to say next. It’s the same thing she asks every Saturday morning.

“Wanna come?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

“What?’

“I wasn’t expecting that answer.”

I roll my eyes and tell her, “You know it’s not my thing.”

“Kadence, nothing is your thing,” she points out. I know she’s right, but hey, I’m a hard one to please.

“Just come for a few hours, a few drinks. Then we can go home and you can spend the rest of your night with your book boyfriends.”

I don’t know why I agree but I do, and then I regret it the moment she starts planning the rest of our day with shopping and lunch. As much as the thought of walking around all day shopping for a new outfit sends me into an instant headache, I could go for a new pair of heels. Oh fuck it, I need to get out of the house and stop thinking about Nix.

“Oh, and I booked you an appointment at the salon. I'm thinking a new do for you,” Holly calls out as I walk out of the kitchen. I groan at Holly’s idea for a new do.

Once we finished college, Holly decided to put her degree in child psychology to good use and become a hairdresser. I don’t even know what happened. One day she came home and told me she was going to cut hair, and she did. She’s always on me about changing my style. I'm not sure how I’ve managed to do it, but I’ve seemed to keep her at bay with chopping my locks off. Color? Well, that’s another story. I like the way my hair is at the moment, but a change might be nice. I wonder what Nix would say if I changed it? Who the fuck cares what he would say, Kadence.

Heading back down the hall, I again remind myself that I need to get my head on straight. I can’t let him get to me anymore. I need to keep our relationship completely professional and not bend over at his every request, especially over my desk. Thinking about him as more than a parent has got to stop; in fact, thinking about him altogether needs to end. Turning the shower on, I realize that the task is going to be one hell of a mission. Nix Knight has a way of staying with you.

10

NIX

TEN DAYS.

Ten motherfucking days since I’ve seen Kadence. Ten days since I had my fingers inside of her, my hand coming down hard on her ass, and I still can’t stop thinking about her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I don’t date; sure as fuck don’t go back for seconds, but something about the sexy, dirty-talking teacher has me wanting to break all my rules. After seeing her again in the classroom, I didn’t want to leave but I had to come up with something to get the stubborn teacher to open up to me more. A lot of fucking help that did. I can’t believe I walked away from her bending over waiting for my cock.

Pulling up into the forecourt of the Knights’ compound, I cut the bike’s engine and watch Jesse walk out with the blonde from last night. The boys partied late, like they do most Friday nights; however, after the week I’ve had with thoughts of Kadence, I went home early, my head too far gone thinking of that damn woman.

Jesse bends down, kisses the blonde and smacks her on the ass as she walks to her car. Looking over at me, he throws up ten fingers, nodding his head up and down, impressed with his night. I just flip him the finger, letting him know I’m not interested. The man is a whore, fucking them and leaving them. Shit, that’s me in a nutshell. Or was me.

Making my way inside the clubhouse, I nod to some of the boys hanging around playing the tables. We have several of the boys live here full time, taking residence in the apartments out the back. They are the ones who don’t have a home outside of the club, but on weekends, we have a full house from Friday afternoon till Sunday night.

I’ll stay a couple of times a week. I have my room in the main clubhouse, which makes it easier when I don’t have Z, but I like to go home to my own bed when he’s staying with me. We run a clean club but sometimes it can get wild, something that a pre-teen shouldn’t be seeing. Walking up to the bar, I signal our latest prospect Hunter, to grab me a beer. We’re not a strict club with prospects, but with our history, we like to keep the club on low numbers. Hunter is Brooks’ old lady’s nephew. So far, the boy is doing good and looks set to patch in a few weeks from now.

Cheers sound around the large open area in the clubhouse as Jesse walks in after me.

"What's that about?" I ask Brooks, sitting down next to him.

“Apparently, Jesse had a screamer last night,” he replies shaking his head. I grin, thinking only Jesse would be gloating about a screamer.

Thoughts of Kadence come creeping in and the many times I made her scream. The woman is a knockout in bed. Shit, the stories I could share. The woman goes off like a rocket and is so damn responsive. I keep my mouth shut, not even sure I’m gonna see her again after the way I left her, but I fucking know I don’t want anyone to know how amazing she is.

After Addison, I lived it up, banging anything and everything, not the slight bit interested in settling down. The last eight years I’ve lived the bachelor life, loving it even, but one night with Kadence has me questioning it all. I need to keep repeating to myself that one night doesn’t equal a relationship, and relationship? What the fuck.

Beau pulls up a stool beside Brooks. “Hey, man, we might have an issue,” he reports quietly. Looking over at my VP and best friend, I take in his concerned face.

“What’s up?” I question, hoping this weekend isn’t gonna cause me problems. Z's with his mom for the weekend and I was looking forward to a few stress-free nights. After our meeting with Kadence, things have been tense, and I’m starting to get concerned. Kadence is right. My boy is holding on to some serious anger, and no matter what, I can’t get him to open up to me.

“Sy ran into some problems last night closing up Ink Me.”

Sylas is the newest brother, who earned his cut, and an old friend. He’s the quiet fucker of the bunch and rounds out the main group of brothers who handle the business side of things. I’ve known Sy since I was a kid, but he pissed off when school finished. No one knew where he went and we still don’t. His pops was a brother alongside my dad, one of the originals. When he got sick three years back, Sylas came home to look after him and never left. After hanging around, seeing the way the club now ran, he wanted in. It didn’t take long for the boys to decide he would fit in.

“What happened?” I ask, wondering what sort of problems the new ink shop’s gonna bring me. I wasn’t too keen on the shop, adding another business means more work, especially one I knew nothing about, but we soon learnt Sy apprenticed in tattooing and piercing while he was away. He manages the store and works the needle most days.

“Says there’s been some of Kings’ men hanging around at the front of the store last few nights. Then last night, there were some of Gunners’ men.”

Our county has been home to two motorcycle clubs over the last thirty years. My old man ran this town the way he wanted back then, not afraid to get bloody, which caused most of the problems for the Knights Rebels Originals. Back when Pops started getting into the guns trade, he moved in on the Warriors of Mayhem territory, causing a conflict between the clubs. For years it ran deep, causing a lot of blood loss between them, only ending after we got our revenge for my mom.

The Mayhems were the bigger club, but the Knights still put up a fight, until my pops and the Mayhems’ Prez, came to an agreement; we held to our own town, dealing in whores and some small drug running gigs, while their club would deal the weapons and run the rest of the county. It wasn’t until years later when and I was voted in, that I could begin to fade out the drugs and women. We’ve managed to keep to our business, living legit, and they’ve kept to theirs. As long as drugs don’t hit Rushford streets, we keep our distance, and they keep theirs.

“Why the fuck are the Mayhems in town?” Brooks asks, knowing this could spell trouble.

“Rumor has it, their club’s been having some problems within their own members. A change within ranks has stirred up some bad shit, plus Gunner Jamieson, is setting up on their territory,” Beau speaks up, filling me in on the bullshit that comes with the territory.

“Set up a meeting with T,” I say, wondering how the old VP, now Prez, will respond. T never did like the truce between the two clubs, thinking it would be bad for business on both sides, but when we went clean, it opened them up to more business, so I guess it worked out for everyone.

For five years now we’ve kept the truce. While I wouldn’t put it past him to drag up some bullshit, my guess would be on Gunner Jamieson. The bastard has been inching closer and closer the last few months and gathering momentum. Transporting and distributing methamphetamine, cornering the market, we gave up. We’ve kept an eye on it, but it might be time to take the next step, secure what’s ours and make sure the Warriors of Mayhem are with us. As the saying goes, an enemy of an enemy makes you a friend. We might not be on the illegal side of things, but when you push, we will push back. My pops earned our club's position here, and respect comes with that.

Beau nods his head and takes off to take care of setting up a meeting. Turning around, I look out of the clubhouse and start to feel restless. I need to get my head straight. Pushing off the bar, I make my way to my office; getting my head stuck into some paperwork instead of the feisty woman might help.

SIX HOURS later and I’m done with the day. If it weren’t drug gangs creeping into our territory, it was drama after fucking drama. Fuckups after fuckups. The new club we refurbished and opened last month, Liquid, has been taking all the brothers time. It’s not my fucking scene, but the money it’s pulled us has been worth the chaos.

Now with the new ink shop, I’m beginning to wonder if we’re stretching ourselves thin. Running my hands over my face, I decide to call it a night. Closing up my office, I go downstairs to the club bar ready to knock back a few and maybe get my dick wet. I’ve decided I’m gonna try to fuck Kadence out of mind. I’ve been fighting it for too long. Unless I tie her down to get her to admit she wants me, there’s no way I’m gonna get through to her. Sliding up to the old oak bar, I call out for a beer and search out the talent for the night.

“Hey, Nix,” Christina, one of the club whores, says coming up to the bar five minutes later. I don't normally like to touch the free-for-alls. Some can get a little crazy and no one needs crazy constantly following you around. After Addison, I’m not interested in crazy. After Kadence, I’m fucked up, so who knows what I want.

“Hey, Chrissie,” I say, giving her one of my come-and-ride-my-cock smiles. Fuck it, tonight I need easy, and she’s the one standing in front of me. She looks up, searching for my approval. Leaning in, I hook my hand around her neck and pull her sticky pink lips to mine. My dick stirs, but not enough for me to stay interested. Well, that’s a fucking first.

Shit, the teacher has ruined me.

Deepening the kiss, I’m silently pleased to hear my cell sound in my back pocket. Pulling back, I turn, dismissing Christina to answer the call.

“Yo,” I say, signaling Hunter for another drink.

“Prez” Sy’s voice rings down the phone.

“What’s up?”

“You might wanna get down to Ink Me. That piece of tail who’s got you in that mood just walked in.” He hangs up before I answer.

Shaking my head at his jab, I put my phone in my back pocket. The boys have been giving me shit all week about my bad mood. Those fuckers have got no idea. After taking a sip of my new beer, I walk out to my bike, ready to come face to face with a teacher who's been on my mind for the last few weeks. I know this is a sign I need to prove that the woman is meant to be in my life. I’m hoping the lesson I taught her last week has gotten through, and she’s willing to give us a go. ‘Cause there is no fuckin’ way I’m taking no for an answer this time.

11

KADENCE

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m about to do this,” I breathe out. A swarm of butterflies fill my stomach at the anticipation of it.

“Have you picked yet?” Holly comes up beside me, leaning over and looking into the glass cabinet.

“Yeah, I’m going to go with a plain gold one,” I say, pointing to the eighteen-karat-gold belly ring I’m about to have pierced through my skin.

“Great,” the scary-looking guy who's standing in front of me mutters in a not too impressed voice. His dark hair is shaved short, and what I can see of his body is covered in tattoos. He looks familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve met him before.

“Geez, what a ball of fucking sunshine,” Holly snaps, leaning into my ear.

“Shhh,” I tell her, hoping scary-tattoo guy didn’t hear. Too late, the scowl he has been rocking deepens, if that’s even possible. She’s right. I have to wonder who stole his candy? Holly just shrugs and I roll my eyes at the crazy bitch. She started giving him lip the moment we walked through the doors.

Don’t ask me how I ended up here. We began the day at the mall. Holly found me the hottest outfit, then ten more that I didn’t need, and let's not forget the couple of pairs of shoes. Shopping with that woman is an art, and one I still can’t perfect.

We spent the rest of the afternoon getting pampered. Holly and I fought over my hair. She thought it would be a great idea for something short and funky. I flat out refused, only allowing a few low lights and a slight trim. I decided I love my dark locks, and no one will ever convince me on the big chop. I was ready to collapse by the end of the day, but I couldn’t let Holly down. When we finished dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant, we went straight to check out the club Holly has been going on about for weeks. After waiting in line for over forty minutes, we were finally granted access behind the red rope that separated us. Liquid re-opened its doors over a month ago. Whoever took over the old club refurbished and upped the cover charge. We had to push our way through the busy crowd to the long, lit-up bar. With the music blaring with all the latest tracks, I could barely hear myself think. The balcony upstairs had booths that were cut off for VIP. Downstairs, there were lounges sectioned off for a private party. The scene was totally Holly. I much prefer a bar atmosphere, but being the good friend I am, I sucked it up.

Halfway through the night I could have sworn I saw my ex-fiancé Zane hanging back in the corner near the bar, but I brushed it off as a coincidence. I wasn’t prepared to let my mind wander off to what I would say or how I would react if I came face to face with the asshole again.

As the night wore on, and the alcohol wore off, the more I began to think what if it was him? I contemplated why he would be back. He left town in a hurry after the fire. Zane never came to bed that night, leaving me alone in the house. The police found him sleeping off his hangover at his brother’s house. He wasn’t at all concerned about the fire destroying our home or even me in surgery. He told the police that we had a fight and that we were over.

I was destroyed.

By the time I was paid a visit by one of the members of the Warriors of Mayhem MC, letting me know that Zane owed them some serious money, he had cleaned out my bank account and left town. For a long time, I thought he would come back or eventually feel safe enough to get a message to me, but three years later, I’ve still not heard anything.

After a few or more cocktails, some dancing and continually brushing off guys who wouldn’t take the hint, I was restless to go home for the night. Convincing Holly was another story. She had met up with some guy she hadn’t seen for months and begged me to hang around with her for a little while longer. I finally persuaded her to leave, letting her know I was walking home with or without her. She agreed to come, not at all okay with me walking on my own. She exchanged numbers with the guy and left on a high. I, however, was sober and ready for bed.

Walking the several blocks to our home, we passed the front of Ink Me, one of the few tattoo and piercing shops in town. Holly got an ingenious idea to get a tattoo, and after looking in and seeing the hot tattoo artist, she decided it was the perfect time. Fortunately, the cranky tattoo artist denied her request, telling her she was too drunk to get the ink, so now she is sporting a new belly ring. How I ended up choosing a ring and agreeing to have it pushed through my skin, I’m still not sure.

Before the fire, back in my college days, I used to have my belly pierced, but with the surgeries and prolonged recovery, it closed over. I never thought at twenty-nine I would be re-piercing it but the idea that I can take back my body after letting it control who I’ve become has me wanting to reclaim that confidence.

My night with Nix reminded me about living in the moment. After the fire, hell, even before the fire with asshole Zane, I found myself lost, shying away from taking risks and letting go. Sure, I’m still quick to snap back and I can hold my own in a confrontation. I'm strong and resilient, but letting go, letting people in to see that hurt, has been the hardest.

Nix gave me permission to relax, made me feel alive again. Even if sleeping with him was a bad idea, I’m glad that I could open up to someone. It was pretty deep for one night with a guy, sure, but one night with Nix was more than just amazing sex. I was fooling myself thinking it wouldn’t mean anything. Seeing his response to my scar, I knew I was in trouble and now, after our moment on the desk, him calling me out on my indifference, I have no idea where my head is at.

I opened up to him more than anyone in the last three years. He didn’t judge me but made me feel adequate in my own scarred skin. No one has managed to push past my insecurities but him. No one else has looked at me, seen past the repulsive skin and instead of showing me pity, made me feel beautiful. I've tried to discount our one night together, but no matter how hard I fight it, he's inspired this awareness in me, something that I lost long ago and I can’t let that go.

The scary tattoo guy clears his throat, obviously pissed off he now has to deal with another girly request.

“I’ll take that one, thanks.” I smile up at him while pointing to the chosen ring. He gives me a form without a sound, and I move to the chair to fill it out. Holly hangs back and tries to engage with the man who isn’t big on small talk. He is a real ball of laughs, that's for sure, but something in his expression, the way his eyes follow Holly, taking her in and silently looking pissed off about it, makes me wonder if my crazy friend might be hitting a nerve.

Standing back up, I hand my form back over as the bell above the door signals another customer. Cranky tattoo guy nods his head and I casually look back at the person behind me.

“Where the fuck are the rest of your clothes?” Nix barks out behind me. My head gets lost in the question, my body grounded in his presence. I hear Holly giggle to the side but I don’t have a second to react before he inquires again, “Kadence, where the fuck are the rest of your clothes?” The greens of his eyes shine dangerously, letting me know he’s pissed.

Shit, not again.

My body comes back to life, my mind back into focus. Oh, God, just seeing him again makes me want him. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist this pull. Images of him leaving me spread out on my school desk flash before my eyes and I remember what a douche bag he can be.

“Hello, Phoenix, nice to see you again,” I greet him, willing my raging heart to calm. How the hell does this man manage to affect me like this?

“Cut the bullshit, Kadence. Your little prim and proper act is getting old.” My eyes narrow to his, and he smirks like he has me all figured out.

“What do you want, Nix?” I give up my indifference. The bastard can see right through it.

“I wanna know where the fuck you have been wearing that.” He points down to my outfit. “Why you’re in my shop, pissin’ Sy off in the process, and I wanna know why the fuck you ran the other night?” His last question is directed with more authority.

Holly lets out a sigh and then announces to no one in particular, “That was so hot.”

Sy, aka scary tattoo guy, scoffs while I’m left processing his words.

Looking down at my skirt and black top that exposes a small amount of skin, I address his first question.

“What are you talking about? I’ve got clothes on.” He leans into my space and runs a finger down the exposed skin between my breasts,

"Babe, you're coverin’ less skin than you’re showin’.” I roll my eyes at his Neanderthal views.

“Shut up, Nix. Her outfit is smoking hot. Don’t be a pig,” Holly comes to stand at my side, saying the words on the tip of my tongue.

“I know it’s fuckin’ hot,” he agrees with her. “So does every other fucker who’s seen her wear it tonight.”

I scoff, not about to get into it with him over his caveman views, or the fact he can get fucked; what’s it to him? He doesn’t own me.

“I didn’t know this was your shop,” I say truthfully, addressing his second question. Maybe that’s why cranky tattoo guy looks familiar. Was he at the bar that night? I don’t remember. Pushing away the feeling that I know him from somewhere else, I think back to when he talked about his businesses. I don’t think we discussed the tattoo shop in detail. If we did, I was probably thinking of Nix and what we were going to be doing later that night.

“And,” I continue, “Sy here,” I point to scary but still hot tattoo guy, “was already in a pissed-off mood before we got here. I’d like to think that two young, single women coming in would brighten his night. Clearly, that’s not the case.”

Nix smiles and his dimple appears, the same one I found handsome on our one-time date last week. Shit, don’t get caught up in his alluring looks, Kadence.

“And the last?” he pushes, so intent for me to admit what he already knows. I let out a breath, knowing he isn’t going to let it go.

“Like we said, our one-time deal turned into a three-time deal.” I shrug, not wanting to get into it with him, especially in front of Holly.

Sy, or cranky biker as I could refer to him, clears his throat, “Hate to break up the love fest, but are we piercing that belly or not?” His voice sounds pissed off, but I can hear a hint of teasing.

“Yes.” “No,” Nix and I both say at the same time.

“Nix, just because you’ve had your mouth on my pussy doesn’t mean you own it,” I blurt out and instantly regret it.

Jesus, the man makes me crazy and now makes me blurt out inappropriate things.

He smiles again as Sy grumbles and Holly laughs. Turning back around, I tell Sy, ‘Yes’ and watch as he looks past me to Nix. Rolling my eyes, he looks back to me and nods, obviously getting approval. Spinning back to face my new apparent keeper, I put on my sweet voice. “Oh, thank you so much, Daddy, for letting me get it done. I promise I’ll be a good girl.” Nix and Holly laugh out loud and as I turn I see Sy’s lip slightly lifted in amusement. Ha! I knew he wasn’t so badass.

Nix leans into my ear. “You can thank me later, babe, when I’m spankin’ your ass, and then you can call me daddy all you like.” Heat floods my cheeks; a dull throb makes me squeeze my thighs together. He quietly chuckles when he notices it. The bastard.

“Right, come on,” Sy grunts and I walk past Holly to make my way back to the piercing room. Holly hangs back but Nix follows close behind.

Stopping in my tracks, I look back at him. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Comin’ with,” he replies, like he just told me he’ll walk me to my car.

“Umm, no,” I say, shaking my head.

“Umm, yes,” he imitates me back, and I bite my lip to hold in a laugh at watching him do that. He looks down at my lips and shakes his head.

“Babe, I’m not real comfortable with you lyin’ on the bed in that mini skirt, your top hiked up with Sy’s hands on you.”

“Wow, jealous much? Last time I checked, it wasn't your concern, Nix,” I inform him but he just shakes his head.

“You have no fuckin' idea,” he mumbles under his breath.

Not inclined to argue anymore, I continue down the hall, Nix close behind. First things first, I need to get this over with and then I can think about what I’m going to do with one possessive bossy man I seem to have on my hands.

12

NIX

I NEED TO GET A GRIP. Fast.

Walking in and seeing Kadence with her long fucking legs in her sexy-as-fuck heels, I had to take a minute to compose myself. The woman is a walking wet dream. Her blonde friend saw me first. I gave her a wink, and brought my finger to my mouth, motioning her to be quiet. She nodded and didn't give me up. I think I have a supporter in her.

Once again, Kadence and her smart mouth made my dick hard and my head hurt all in the space of sixty seconds. The woman would fight with me over the color of a red pen, but boy, do I fucking love it. Her throwing her attitude and being sexy as fuck while doing it is more than I can ask.

Two minutes in her presence and I knew I had to have her again. I don’t think it will take too much to convince her. After watching Sy put his gloved hands on her, I need to find some release. I sat there grinding my teeth as his fingers touched her skin.

I’m pussy-whipped. I know it. I shot daggers the whole time at Sy, and the bastard fucking kept pushing me. With her top pushed up, he took great pleasure in trying to get a reaction from me.

The fucker will pay later.

His eyes skimmed over her scarred side, his hand a little too close for comfort. For reasons I don’t even know, it made me feel protective of her. I don’t know the story behind it, but I will find out soon enough. I kept waiting for the asshole to say something so I could rip him a new one. Kadence somehow sensed my stress and reached out, taking my hand in hers. Sy’s eyes came to mine, a silent question, but I just shook my head in warning to leave it. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this woman, but whatever it is, I’m sure as hell going to enjoy finding out.

Kadence now sits behind me, her pussy pressed up against my back, her arms tightly around me. Sy took Holly home after I realized the girls planned on walking home. I was not fucking down with that idea and told them both just that. It took a bit of convincing, but after Holly had declared she couldn't wait to ride on the back of Sy’s bike, Kadence had no choice.

After throwing a little of the Kadence attitude I’ve come to appreciate, I told her she would end up like she did the other night on her school desk. She quickly shut up and agreed to ride with me. Holly demanded to know why the hell she didn’t know anything about a school desk, which earned me some more daggers from Kadence. Sy, on the other hand, didn’t seem too impressed. Don’t know why; Holly seems to be into him and she isn’t sore on the eyes, that’s for sure.

Pulling up to the front of my house, I shut off my bike. The ride was uncomfortable after I got a glimpse of Kadence’s lace covered pussy as she climbed on the back. I’ve been riding with a semi hard-on for the last ten minutes. Kadence sighs and I feel a sense of gratification that she enjoys riding on the back of my Harley.

Getting off my bike, and before helping her off, I move in and crash my greedy mouth to hers. She melts into it as I push past her lips, her taste like a drug that I seem to crave after each hit. Pulling back, I help her off and take the helmet from her head. Snatching her hand, I drag her behind me, in a hurry to fuck her again.

“Let’s go inside,” I say, walking up to the front porch. Unlocking the door, I push her through, impatient to claim her. Slamming the door shut behind me, I spin her to the wall next to us and crash my mouth to hers, my tongue desperate for contact. Her hands come to my belt, just as wild as I am.

My cell rings in my back pocket and I ignore it, hungry for her touch. Pulling my jeans down, she laughs when she sees I’m not wearing any underwear.

“Laughin’ at my cock won’t make it happy,” I warn.

“You want me to kiss it better?” she asks in her husky voice. Her hand wraps around my hard cock, stroking me in her tight grip. My cell sounds again from the floor as she drops to her knees. Fuck.

Trying to block out the ringing phone, I hold my breath as I watch her pink tongue come out. She licks the drop of pre-cum collected at the bulging head of my cock. Jesus, that’s fucking hot.

My cell rings again and I ache at the thought that I might have to end this.

“Fuck, babe, as much as I want that hot little mouth around my dick, I need to get this. It must be urgent if they keep ringing.” Fucking better be or the assholes are gonna pay.

Taking a step back, I watch as her face drops in annoyance. Fuck, I’m with you there.

Picking up my pants, I reach in my back pocket and grab the offending piece-of-shit phone, just as it rings again.

“What?” I snap into the phone. Holding my hand out for Kadence, I pull her up, bringing her to her feet.

“We got problems,” Beau’s tight voice reports.

“Talk to me.”

“We got reports a Molotov went through Ink’s shop window.”

Kadence walks through the hall to the kitchen, and I follow.

“We only just came from there,” I tell him. Thinking back to Kadence standing in the front of the shop only twenty minutes ago.

“Yeah, Sy dropped that woman home, and is on his way back now. Meet you there?”

“Yeah,” I agree before hanging up.

Pissed that this has now ruined my chance of getting blown, I do my belt back up.

“I gotta go.”

“That’s okay. I'll just call a cab,” she tells me, reaching for her purse.

“No, you won’t,” I immediately snap. I need to be careful with my words here, but at the same time, I’m not prepared to get into it about her running again. “You’re gonna stay here and wait till I get back.”

“Nix, it’s fine.”

“Jesus, woman, I gotta deal with club business. I'll be back once I sort it out. Will you just do as you’re told for once?” I can feel myself starting to lose my temper as I watch her try to control hers.

“I’m capable of looking after myself,” she bites back. If I wasn’t worried about the shop, my dick would be coming to life at her firing up at me.

“I know you are, Kadence. It's not about that right now. I got shit I need to deal with. Just humor me, will you?” I ask her, not short of pleading. She looks at me quietly and must see I’m serious and not in the mood to get into it.

“What happened?”

“Fire at Ink Me.”

“Fire?”

“Yeah, a Molotov cocktail through the window,” I tell her and watch her pull in a sharp breath. Her face whitens, and I don’t miss the small flash of panic that she quickly hides.

“What is it?” I ask her.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

I know it’s something but I don’t have time to get into it with her right now. Pulling her to me, I ask her one more time.

“Just stay here and wait for me till I get back? We can finish what we started.” Leaning down, I lightly brush my lips over hers. It’s nowhere near enough, but I’ll wait till later.

“Okay,” she complies, and I feel better knowing she will be here safe.

“All right, I’ll call you when I’m on my way home. Give me your cell.” Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her phone passing it to me. I program my number and call my cell so I have hers on mine. Angling my head to hers, I kiss her one more time, turn and walk to the door. “Make yourself at home, and don’t answer the door for anyone," I call out, opening the door.

“Yes, Dad,” she calls back and I look back at the little minx.

“Woman, I’ll spank you for that.”

“Can’t wait,” she replies and I reward her with a smile, letting her know I’ll keep my promise.

Closing the door behind me and locking it, I head back to Ink Me, hoping the damage isn’t too much to deal with because I have one hot and willing woman in my bed waiting for me.

13

KADENCE

NIX HAS BEEN GONE for over an hour and I’m starting to fall asleep. After snooping around downstairs, I made my way upstairs to his room. Remembering his large tub from our night together, I decide to run a bath. Running the hot water, I find some bath oil, pour it in and submerge myself, contemplating what I was going to do with Nix. His showing up at the tattoo shop sent a spark through me. I wasn’t sure after our last meeting how I would act, but ending up on the back of his bike to his bath was not on the list of logical outcomes. I know he wants more, more of what I’m not clear on, but I do know in the short time I’ve known the man, he won’t give up. After reasoning with myself on my actions for twenty minutes in the hot water, I am no better off.

Stepping out onto the fluffy beige bath mat, I reach for a matching towel. For a man, he has impeccable taste. I cover my body in the soft towel. Its smell reminds me of his body, and I catch myself breathing in his rustic scent. God, he smells good.

After searching through his drawers for something to wear, I find one of his T-shirts. The black club shirt looks worn but calls to me, so I put it on over my black panties.

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m supposed to be staying away but I’m obviously not doing well fighting off his advances. We both want each other, and we both can’t seem to keep our hands off each other, but I can’t help but wonder how much more he wants. I didn’t realize how much his presence calmed me. Having him sit next to me while Sy could see some of my scars made it bearable. I could sense his irritation when Sy kept pushing him. I thought it was funny for a bit, but when his eyes went to my scar, and then straight to me, I knew Nix was about to lose his cool. He doesn’t even know what happened, doesn’t know how I got so badly burnt, but he is already defensive over me. Before he could say something to Sy and make me feel uncomfortable, I reached out, his eyes finding mine, a silent promise that he would protect me. I felt it from just his touch, knowing in that moment I didn’t want to fight him anymore. This man has proven he will stop at nothing to get what he wants while sheltering me at the same time. Do I want to keep carrying on denying it? No. But the next steps are unknown for me. I can see myself getting lost in a man like him so I need to tread carefully. A man like Nix has proven he can give me what I’ve been missing, but I fear the moment he takes it away, I'll lose more than what I started with.

Turning his TV on, I climb into his bed, remembering the last time I was here. Visions of us lying naked, my head in his lap as he silently ran his calloused fingers along my skin, his mouth between my legs teasing me with his talented tongue while stretching me wide with his fingers, come easily. The scene leaves me hot just thinking about it. After leaving me wanting in the classroom, I refused myself any release. A punishment for allowing my body to react to him, but now, lying in his bed, the need coils through me, edging me closer to the height of urgency. My hand moves to the juncture of my thighs. I brush my fingers lightly over the lace of my panties, feeling the fever burn up in me. Just being in his bed has me craving him. Reaching for my phone, I send him a text.

KADENCE: I’m in your bed, my hands were busy, but they took a minute to text you.

I second-guess myself as I await his reply. Shit, I hate feeling so insecure. It’s alarming how much I want to expose to him.

I must have drifted off, as some time later, the sound of the front door closing wakes me. Keys being placed on the kitchen counter lets me know he’s home. Throwing off the covers, I straighten his shirt, pat down my hair and make my way down the stairs to finish what we started earlier. Turning the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I see him leaning over, head deep in the fridge. His position gives me the perfect opportunity to check out his firm ass. The man has an amazing body. Sneaking up to him my arms coming around his waist, hands under his shirt, his tight abs contract under my fingers.

“Hey, honey, you told me you would call me,” I say, pushing my front to his back before he suddenly comes back fast.

“Whoa," he shouts, spinning around and surprising me. His movements are so fast that my mind doesn’t register that the voice isn’t his. Looking up, I’m meeting a man who isn’t Nix but is wearing the same cut. I let out a scream and back away.

“Hey, it’s all right. Nix sent me,” he quickly explains, trying to calm my frantic state. My mind slowly recognizes him as one of the men I saw with Nix the other night at the pub, his patch telling me I’m safe.

“He tried to call to let you know I was coming.” He looks down at me before he turns away. “You wanna put on some pants?” he adds uncomfortably, and I look down and realize I’m only in my panties and a Knights Rebels shirt.

“Oh, shit,” I burst out, pulling down Nix's shirt, trying to cover my exposed legs while backing away slowly. I know he’s not looking at me like that, but his gaze turns back to me and is fixed on the scarring. Questions fill his eyes, but I'm not prepared to see the pity in them. Making my way upstairs, I find my skirt and throw it on, leaving Nix’s shirt in place. I make my way back downstairs, grabbing my cell along the way. Looking down, I see a text message.

NIX: Don’t you dare fuckin’ touch yourself! I’m sending one of the boys to get you. Now.

Shit, I mustn’t have heard it go off.

“I’m Brooks,” the man informs me when I walk back into the kitchen. “And if it’s okay with you, can we keep that little greeting between us? My missus wouldn’t appreciate the jabs the boys would throw. Though she might be more okay with it than Nix, I’d like to keep my balls,” he admits laughing a little.

Oh, God, I would die if Nix found out about my slip up. I nod, thankful he won’t go and tell the ‘boys’ about me rubbing up on him. I only know Jesse, and if they are anything like him, I won't hear the end of it.

“I’m Kadence by the way.” I smile, and he smiles back. His dark hair is as short as Nix’s, but now that I’m facing him, I realize he looks nothing like Nix. Where Nix is tall and built, Brooks is slightly shorter and a little broader. His short beard hides most of his face, but by his warm smile, I can see he's handsome. I find myself staring and shake myself out of it, already feeling awkward at my slip earlier.

“Where’s Nix?” I grab a glass off the sink, filling it up with water from the fridge door.

"Club business,” he states. I don’t know what he expects me to do with that vague explanation.

“Should I go home?”

“No,” he replies a little too fast. “I’ve been told to come and take you back to the clubhouse.”

“But if Nix is busy working, shouldn’t I just head home?”

“Just doing what the boss tells me,” he says.

“What if I don’t want to go?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips, ready to take him on.

“I’d prefer you came willingly, but I was warned you might say that.” He smiles this time, knowing how much I must piss Nix off. “If you don’t come, I’ll have to stay until Nix can get to you, and I really just wanna get back, sort out some shit and get home to the wife and kid.”

As much as I don’t want to go, I feel sorry he was sent to look after me, so I nod and go to get my purse.

“I don’t know why Nix would send you to babysit me when you have a wife and child to worry about,” I say, walking up to him ready to leave.

“That’s the only reason he assigned me,” Brooks mutters under his breath. I don’t know what that means and I don’t bother asking, probably some club rule. Locking up behind me, Brooks walks me down the path close to my back. Stopping short of the drive, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a bike.

“No bike? What sort of MC are you a part of?” I ask playfully.

He lets out a laugh. “The bastard made me bring the truck.”

Having been on his bike two times now and getting better, it clicks why Nix sent the car, not the bike. Damn possessive man.

The drive to the compound is short. Brooks talks about his wife and daughter and makes me feel comfortable. He’s nothing like Nix with his bossy and alpha nature, but he still maintains a presence about him that you know you wouldn’t want to mess with him.

My phone beeps and I grab it out of my bag to check the message.

NIX: Do as you’re told.

I roll my eyes at his bossiness and type back my response.

KADENCE: HA. I was well behaved. Brooks is a gentleman. On our way.

NIX: Gentleman my ass. C U soon.

His response comes back instantly, and I place my cell back in my bag, excited and nervous to be heading inside the gated compound. Five minutes later, we pull up to a large property. A young guy walks out from the dark, unlocking and sliding the gate open, letting us drive through. The long, loose gravel drive winds around to the left and we follow it until we come to a large warehouse. Pulling up next to at least twenty bikes, I get out, ready to see Nix and the inside of his club.

Brooks meets me at my door; his hand comes to my wrist, gripping it in his large grasp.

“Keep close. We have some friends come to stay,” he warns. I don’t know what that means so I simply nod as he guides me to the front double doors. Two older men stand near the door, smoking cigarettes in the cool air. The red tips, glow bright against the black night, their expressions hidden behind their kick-ass beards. Their eyes assess me but nod at Brooks when we walk up to them, letting us pass without a word. Brooks pushes us through the doors into the dimly lit hall and walks us down to a large open area. The smell of leather and smoke fills my nose, and I look out around the large area. The long wall along the back holds pictures of members in their cuts, some mug shots, but more family shots. The Clubs insignia carved in a large wooden display sits in the center of the wall, Knights Rebels inscribed above the skull head. A few young men standing around the pool table look up as we pass through the open area.

“Is it always this quiet?” I ask as we walk down a hall.

“No, the party’s been moved down the back. They got a bonfire set up,” he explains.

Brooks’ grip releases my wrist as we come to an open set of double doors at the back of the club. Stopping at the threshold, I see Nix before he sees me. I stand and take in all of him. His appearance is powerful, his character electrifying. The long solid timber masterpiece he sits at captures my attention. The same carved emblem that hangs out on the clubhouse wall is inscribed in the middle of the timber table.

“Prez,” Brooks calls as he raps on the door. The three men sitting at the table turn and focus their attention on us. Jesse winks at me and Sy’s eyes narrow. The third man with longer dark hair pulled back, is one of the guys at the bar the first night Nix kissed me. His blue eyes shine in laughter before letting it out in a loud bark. Feeling a little exposed, I second-guess the shirt. Shit, was wearing it the wrong thing to do?

Nix’s eyes rake down my body, smiling when he notices the shirt I’m wearing. Standing from his seat at the head of the table and ignoring Brooks, he walks straight to me, pulling me into him. The heat from his body warms me before he pulls back. Angling his head down, he presses his lips to mine. It’s a quick kiss, not demanding, but I still feel a light blush rise to my cheeks.

“Sorry, babe,” he says close to my ear. “Club business, I couldn’t leave.”

“It’s okay, Nix, but honestly, I can go,” I say, worried that having me here can complicate things with not just us, but his club. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but being in his club, around his friends, is a little daunting.

“You’re stayin'. Let me show you to my room,” he orders, leaving no room to argue. Moving past me, he grasps my hand, leading me away from the guys. Their conversation obviously over, he walks me down the hall to the left, stopping at a closed door. Reaching down, he turns the handle and pushes it open, dragging me in and slamming the door shut.

My shoulders crash into the wall when he spins me around and backs me up, pressing himself into me.

“Gotta say darlin’, seein’ you in my shirt, in my club, is a major turn on.” He tugs on his T-shirt and I smile up at him, glad he isn’t angry. Going up onto my toes, I reach around his neck pulling him down so I can kiss him softly.

“I missed you in bed,” I say, feeling bold. I can’t help it. He brings it out in me and makes me feel comfortable. I'm weak when it comes to him, and I’m done fighting it.

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, pushing further into me. I shake my head no and reach down, rubbing my hand along his bulging crotch.

“Don’t be a tease, baby. I gotta go back,” he groans, resting his forehead to mine, clearly as frustrated as I am.

“You wanna come and look around, or you feel more comfortable in here?”

“I’m pretty beat.” I’m not sure if I want to leave his room wearing what I am. He nods, and then kisses my nose.

“Okay, I got shit to deal with. Take your panties off before climbing in my bed, and I’ll meet you there later when I’m done.”

His request floods me with want, and he catches my flush.

“She likes it when I boss her,” he mumbles more to himself than me. I smack his chest and he grabs my hand. He’s right. I love it, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Can’t wait to have my tongue in your sweet pussy,” he teases, and I feel my stomach tighten in response. “Been dreamin’ about it every night for the last ten nights.”

My stomach does a flip on that announcement; the throb I’ve been fighting since he walked into the ink shop now beats erratically. I want him, badly. Leaning in, his lips come to mine one more time. His tongue swipes along my bottom lip, teasing me with his taste.

“Be back,” he says, stepping away. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” I hold his gaze before nodding my agreement. Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in his personal space.

Making my way to his bed, I consider disobeying his request, before thinking better of it. Images of waking up to his head between my legs leave me feeling ready and wanting. Stepping out of my panties and pulling his top over my head, I climb under his sheets. His smell blankets me. Burrowing further under them, I breathe them in. Breathe him in. Closing my eyes, I force myself to sleep before my sexy biker comes back to wake me.

14

NIX

“TELL me how the fuck they got in?” I ask my Sergeant-at-Arms.

“They went in through the back door and worked smart,” Jesse answers, still filling me in on the fucked-up bullshit the Kings have got us into.

“And the ink shop?” I ask as I feel the start of a headache coming on.

“Just the front.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The fuckers not only hit us at the tattoo shop right after we left, they got into one of the bars downtown, injuring one of my workers in the process. It was a warning; we just don’t know why.

Knights Rebels territory is protected, and those fuckers are just begging to create a war.

“You get a hold of T?” I ask Beau, trying to calm myself down so I can think straight.

“I put a call out, but still waiting for him to get back to me. Word is there was a shipment that got held up; some assholes intercepted it, and he was cleaned out.”

“You think they’re thinkin’ we’re responsible?”

“Don’t know why they would,” he responds. “Those fuckers have been in our town, know the way we run things. We don’t want their drugs.” I nod ‘cause I know he’s right, but why the fuck would they make a move against us?

“We secure the shop?” I look over at Sy, his usual pissed-off self more volatile than normal. He nods his head; no spoken communication needed. We're used to it.

“Get some eyes on Z, just to be safe,” I tell Beau. It’s not my weekend, but if there’s a shit storm brewing, I want him safe.

“Yeah, prospect is heading there now. I’ll head over after here.” I nod, hoping like hell Addison doesn’t cause shit. Last thing I need is her being a bitch to my boys.

“Right well, you know what we gotta do, keep our eyes open, and until we hear from T, or Intel comes in, let’s play it safe,” I say, standing from my chair.

“So Kadence?” Beau drawls, ready to move on to more pressing matters. I give him a look, warning him not to go there. “Fuck, boss, you got it bad.” Jesse shakes his head and crosses his arms.

“Don’t even start,” I warn them, even though they all start laughing.

“Should have seen him earlier, so pussy whipped already.” Sy shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Fuck you, Sy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little act earlier.”

“What act?” Beau questions.

“Just laid claim, nearly come out of his skin at me touching her,” he tells them, laughing.

“You were pushin’ it brother, and you know it.”

“Couldn’t help it. That woman has a mouth on her. That night at the bar was nothing compared to what I’ve seen." He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll say, I think Nix has found his match, boys,” Brooks smirks, rising from his chair.

Jesse sits, watching me quietly; I can see the concern in his eyes, the unspoken words on his face. I know he has some connection with Kadence but he has nothing to worry about. I know how I feel about her, and after tonight, she’ll know I’ve laid claim.

“We got a problem, Jesse?” I come right out and ask.

“She told you about the burns? Everything she had to go through?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.” My temper rises a little; I don’t want to get into it with him but I will if I have to.

The guys stay quiet, the playful teasing a few minutes ago now tense. I’m not about to discuss Kadence and something that is private to her in front of them, and I’m getting pissed Jesse even brought it up. It pisses me off more that I don’t know what happened.

“Jesse, I know you’re lookin’ out for her. I get that, but I’m claimin’ her as my woman. She’s mine, therefore my responsibility. You can play the big brother act. I'll give you that, but don’t mistake it for anythin’ more. What Kadence and I discuss will only be between us.” He holds my stare, but I don’t back down. I stand by my word; it’s none of his damn business, and the last time I checked, we didn’t grow pussies and start braiding each other's hair wanting to talk about this shit.

“Your woman?” He smirks like I don’t have a chance. “Good luck with that one,” he laughs. Asshole.

“Fuck off.” I ignore him and walk out, leaving them all laughing with each other. Fuckers know that I’m a goner.

My woman? Yeah, I’m calling it. The moment she walked into my club, wearing one of my shirts with the club’s insignia on it, I knew she was the one for me. Now, I’ve just got to convince her. God, help me.

Finding one of the boys to pick her up was a hard one, especially after the fucking text she sent. I swear my dick must hate me with how much that woman makes it hard.

I chose the man least likely to try to hit on her, or not give her shit at least. Happily married, I know if Brooks fucked around on Kelly, there’d be hell to pay. Walking down the hall, I wonder if Kadence obeyed my order about the panties. I’ve seen the way she responds to my dominating side. Her eyes hold the battle she has within herself, and I love watching it, waiting to see if she is going to fight me or submit to me. It’s going to be fun seeing how far I can push her.

Quietly opening my door, I look to the bed and see her asleep on her side. Her left leg bunched over the sheet exposing her dark and raised scar. She went to bed naked like a good girl.

Making quick work of my pants, I toe off my boots and take off my cut. Once naked, I quietly climb in behind her. She stirs briefly, and then settles back to sleep. Her sleeping body, naked in my bed, and her dark hair splayed out over my white pillow strengthens my need to taste her. Pulling the sheet down, I expose her sexy little tits. I’m not a tit man. It could go either way, but her small handfuls are just perfect. It's her nipples that do it for me. The pert buds always respond to my touch. Leaning down, I take one in my mouth.

“You’re back.” She stretches, waking from her sleep as I release her from my mouth. Leaving a kiss on her nipple, I pull back and run my hand down her body, cupping her between the legs.

“I see you’ve been a good girl.” She smiles and nods her head. “I knew you could do as you were told,” I say, leaning back down thirsty to have my tongue around the pale pink buds again.

“Did you sort everything out with Ink Me?” she asks as I slide my finger into her slick wet heat.

“Yeah, the boys are on it.” My eyes watch her mouth gasp at my touch. The pleasure I’m giving her is written all over her face.

“Why would anyone do that?” Her question comes out unsteady as I insert a second finger.

“Babe, I’ve got my fingers inside of you. I don’t wanna talk about club business while I’m finger fuckin’ my woman.”

Her legs close together, trapping my hand between her thighs, my fingers still inside of her.

“One, I was just asking, Nix. You don’t have to be an ass, and two, your woman? When did I become your woman?”

“Babe, you became my woman when you walked into my club wearing my clothes straight from my bed.” I try to pull my hand out, but her legs tighten.

“Well, it didn’t seem like I had much of a choice,” she retorts. Loosening her grip, I sense an argument coming on, and as much as having my fingers in her when we are about to argue could be hot as fuck, I remove them and sit up.

“You could have told Brooks to fuck off. You have no problem telling me to. You could have even hightailed it out of there after I left, but you didn't. You walked into my club wearin’ my fuckin’ clothes,” I remind her, glad that she didn’t run and stayed just as I told her. She sits up, pulling the sheet with her.

“Why did you stay?’ I ask.

“Because you asked me to.”

“Exactly!”

“What are we doing, Nix? What is this, because I thought we were just having fun and now? Now I just don’t know. I don’t want to label anything, but if this is going to be more than fun, I’m going to need to know.”

I laugh at her interpretation of what’s happening between us. “This is more than just fun, Kadence.”

15

KADENCE

‘THIS IS MORE than just fun,' he says.

The concept fascinates me but at the same time frightens me.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, woman. Your attitude, your body, from the moment I had you on the back of my bike, I knew I was in trouble. You feel it too, Kadence. I know you do. Stop denyin’ it.” He leans over me, stripping the sheet off my body.

He’s right; I do feel it. I just didn’t realize he was feeling it that much. Sure, he’s persistent, but I thought it was more about how amazing our night was, rather than wanting another slice of the pie.

“I want to know everythin’ there is to know about you, Kadence,” he declares, crawling over and covering his naked body to mine. “I want you in my bed.” He kisses my lips softly. “On the back of my bike.” His lips move to my ear. “I want to bury myself inside of you and stay there for days.”

Every word he speaks settles in a little further, and I grasp at them, savoring them, memorizing them. Is it smart? I have no idea, but listening to him admit he wants more from me makes me defenseless, leaving me open to want more of him.

“Nix, we’ve only known each other for all of three weeks. We’ve spent a handful of times together. Don’t you think this is moving a little too fast?”

“Fuck no,” he disagrees. “Kadence, just relax. I’m not askin’ you to marry me, woman. I’m just tellin’ you to stop running and let me in.”

“You’re telling?” I ask.

“Yes and if you don’t start listenin’, I’ll tan your ass like I did earlier last week.”

His reminder brings back memories and I cover my face with my hands. “God, why did I let you do that?” I ask, embarrassed at the thought of it.

He pulls down my hands. “‘Cause you wanted me to. You know it. I know it.” He holds my gaze, his eyes searching mine.

“Fuck, babe, it was one of the sexiest things I’ve seen.” He informs me, smiling. “No more fightin’, okay?” he asks, and I make my decision to let go and stop holding back to see where this thing between us goes.

“Okay, but let’s take it slowly,” I respond. I’m still not sure if I’m ready for his world, or his authority and the way I react to it. If this ends, when it ends, it’ll probably ruin me.

He laughs at my slow comment. “Kadence, I don’t do slow.”

“Well, you will if you want me.” I hear the lie in my own ears.

He shakes his head and leans in, nose-to-nose, his erection lying against my stomach. “Baby, I already got you.”

I can’t deny it. He's right. So I do the next best thing: I roll my eyes and backhand his hard chest. “Don’t be smooth. It makes you sound lame,” I say, not really meaning it.

“Lame? Kadence, lame is not what you were callin’ me the other night while I had you bent over your desk”

“Don’t be rude,” I say as heat floods my cheeks. I think about how I loved every second of his large calloused hand coming down on my ass. I throb just thinking about the sting of the slap, followed by the soothing of his caress while he teased my pussy. Just thinking about it now makes me wet.

“You like my dirty mouth. Don’t lie. I can see it in your eyes.” I shake my head, denying his accusations.

“You want me to prove it?” he pushes, and I’m already getting excited just thinking about what he’ll say and do next.

“Get on your knees, dirty girl,” he demands, rolling off me, his voice a controlled deep rumble.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions, Kadence. Just be a good girl and do as you’re told.” I want to fight it. The need pulsates through me to argue back, but as strong as that feeling is, the want of what he is about to give me is stronger.

My center aches at his instruction as I come up onto my knees, facing him. He lies down on his side with his elbow propped up, his head in his palm while he rakes his eyes over my body. “Time to pay up, Kadence. Your hands aren’t busy now. Touch yourself,” he commands, throwing my text message back at me as I kneel there watching him. “Show me how much you need me to touch you,” he encourages me, and I do as he asks, more turned on than the last time we were together.

I part my lips and run my finger along my wetness. I'm in tune with myself. I’ve never shied away from masturbation before, so with him lying there watching me, I relish in the knowledge he’s being turned on by it. “Taste yourself,” he continues to order. The authority in his voice doesn’t stop me from hesitating at his demand. Now this is something I wouldn’t normally do. Sure, I’ve tasted myself on another man’s lips after he has gone down on me, but sticking my finger in my wetness, and putting it in my mouth? No.

“Kadence are you wet?” he asks me, my reservations not lost on him. I nod my head, trying to keep my gaze on him as self-doubt slowly creeps its way between us. “Show me how wet you are just from my dirty mouth,” he pushes, ignoring my shyness. I hesitate at first, but then bring my finger up, showing him the glistening wetness. “Now put it in your mouth and enjoy how wet I make you.”

His words wash over me, and I can’t control the power my body wants to give him; bringing my hand to my mouth, I watch him watch me taste myself. His eyes flash with desire, need, and his hand starts to touch himself.

My eyes catch the movement and I’m drawn to it. Watching his large hand circle his aggressive arousal and stroke himself sends a tightening sensation through my stomach. Nerves singing, blood rushing, I lose myself to the erotic act.

“You want my cock, babe?” I nod breathlessly, eager to have him. His delicious voice is making me dizzy.

He brings himself up to a sitting position, me still on my knees, his head in line with my breasts.

“Where do you want my cock, Kadence? In that tight little pussy of yours, or in that smart mouth?” Thinking about having him in my mouth makes me shake; watching him come undone by my mouth would be a sight to see. With no other option, I shamelessly reply, “Mouth.”

He growls his response, sliding his fingers into where I am wet and desperate. “Fuck, Kadence, you’re soakin,” he rumbles before moving off the bed to stand. Lowering myself to my ass, I turn and face him, letting my feet fall to the floor in front of me. His thick hardness sits directly in line with my ready mouth. Taking him in my hand, I stroke him once before leaning forward and licking the tip clean. His fingers glide through my hair, gently pulling it, proving his impatience. I tighten my grip and blow a warm breath over the wetness I left behind. Stroking him harder, I stop to run my tongue up along the inside of his dick.

“Don’t lick at it, woman. I want you to suck it.”

Pulling back I look up at him. “Oh, is it not fun when someone is teasing you with oral?” I ask him, remembering his little bullshit game he did with me that first night.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, and I have a laugh at his position. “I’m serious, Kadence. Don’t push me or I’ll take you hard and won’t let you come. The only person in this relationship that controls the bedroom play is me,” he threatens.

Is that what this is? A relationship? Pushing that aside, I think of him taking me hard and not letting me come. Would he? I wouldn’t put it past him; the words ring true in my mind. Shaking off the dreaded thoughts of not releasing, I lean forward again and I wrap my lips around his width. I take him whole the first time, before coming back up. Nix’s hands grip hard in my hair as I begin my oral assault; the pleasure of the sting makes me tremble more. Working him with both my mouth and grip, I reach down with my free hand and cup his balls, rolling them over in my hand. He groans his approval and it sends a rush straight to my core. Hearing him lose himself spurs me on and I suck deeper and harder.

“Kadence, if you want my dick in you, you have to stop or I’m gonna blow.” He grinds out after a few minutes, his control slowly slipping. I fight the internal battle of taking him to the brink or letting him relieve the ache between my legs.

“Kadence,” he warns again and I let the power of being able to make him come undone rule my decision. Relaxing my throat, I take him deeper as he tightens his grip, holding my head in place as he begins to fuck my mouth. The thrill and the forcefulness of watching him come undone before me floods my body with desire. I reach down, yearning to ease the growing ache between my thighs.

“Don’t even fuckin’ touch it,” he snarls at the same time he blows his load down my throat. My hand stills, his command turns me on even more. He is right; I love his dirty mouth.

Swallowing all that he delivers, I hold back the urge to gag and let him finish. When he slows and releases my hair, I take over sucking him clean.

“Fuck, we are so doing that again,” he insists after I let him fall from my mouth, and I look up at him. I smile and nod, agreeing it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done.

“Now lie back. It’s my turn,” he orders, pushing my shoulder, before falling to his knees. I let the fall take me and feel his tongue lap up my wetness. As much as I love what we just did, I think I’m going to love my turn more.

THE RAYS of the morning daylight sneak through the parted curtains. The sun coats my skin, warming me. The heat at my back lets me know Nix made it back to bed. Last night, after giving Nix the best head job I had in me, he returned the favor, ending in me riding him hard. We were interrupted halfway through, making it quick, but still so goddamn hot. Afterwards, I was left alone while he went to sort out whatever Jesse came and got him for. I don’t know what’s going down with the club. Nix wouldn’t tell me but he did say not to worry.

I shift my naked body, trying not to wake him, and gently turn to my side, untangling my body from his. Nix mumbles something unintelligible and curls further over.

Grabbing my phone and his shirt, I quietly make my way to the connecting bathroom. After putting on Nix’s shirt, I dial Holly’s number to let her know I’m okay. I know she will be worried I didn’t text last night. Placing the phone to my ear, I sit on the toilet and wait to hear her voice yell down my phone.

“Why hello, hussy,” she answers after the third ring.

“Hello.” I keep my voice low, careful not to wake Nix.

“I see from your bedroom door that you didn’t come home last night,” she laughs.

“Yeah, I stayed at the clubhouse.”

“YOU WHAT!” she screams at me, and I pull the phone away at the loudness of her voice. “You lucky bitch.” Lucky? I guess I can’t argue with her on that.

“Well, while you got the sexy bossy biker, I was left with Sy, aka cranky moody biker. Did you notice what a barrel of laughs he was?” She continues on her rant, “He mumbled two words to me after dropping me home. Two words, ‘See ya.’ That’s it, but I swear to God, Kadence. He could bark at me like a dog and I would still want to get inside his pants.” She growls in frustration and I believe her; the woman knows what she wants.

Sy is a serious man. The thought of him barking at Holly makes me laugh. She huffs down the phone, not impressed.

“Do you need me to come pick you up?” she asks, moving on from Sy.

“No, I’m gonna hang out for a bit. Nix had some club business to deal with last night so I’ll be home later.”

“Oh, ditching our standing lunch date for a man?” she sighs, and I let out a small laugh at her blatant jealousy.

“I’ll make it up to you, promise. I have to go,” I say when I hear Nix call out through the door.

“Have fun with all that male hotness,” she calls back before hanging up.

After using the bathroom, I wash my hands and place some toothpaste on my finger and do a quick brush to get rid of my morning breath. Walking back out of the bathroom, I see Nix sitting on the end of the bed.

“Morning,” I say, placing my phone on the bedside table and walking up to him.

“What the hell you been doin’ in there?” he asks me, standing up to do the button on his dark wash jeans. Geez, cranky much?

“Just talking to Holly,” I tell him. He bends down, takes my face in his hands and kisses me lightly. His whiskers tickle my face as I deepen the kiss; my tongue comes out, ready to dance with his. The groan I swallow from his mouth gives me the reaction I was hoping for before he pulls back.

“I gotta go. Got a meeting to sort this shit out.” He steps out of my embrace, reaching down for his shirt and pulling it over his head. The muscles of his chest and the tightness of his abdomen are immediately hidden. The man has a magnificent body.

“Oh,” I say, feeling disappointed that he keeps having to run off.

“Hold that thought. Give me an hour and I’ll be back. I’ll eat you for breakfast and then I’ll feed you,” he promises, leaning back down and kissing me deeply. I sag against him, my body molding to his. Drawing back, he brings his arms around me, his embrace strong, his scent making me weak. His hands roam further down, the roughness of them grazing my bare skin. “Fuck, Kadence, you’re not wearin’ any underwear?” I shake my head and watch as a pained expression fills his eyes. “Make sure you wear panties if you leave this room.” His eyes tell me he’s not joking, but of course, I like to tease.

“Oh, really, Nix? I thought it would be a good idea to walk out wearing your shirt as a dress, you know, let all the boys get a glimpse of what I have.” His hand comes to my hair, tugging it in a sharp movement. I don’t know what feelings course through me more, the stinging pain coming from my head as it comes back at his pull or my throbbing pussy at the total act of dominance.

“Swear to fuckin’ God, woman. Do. Not. Push. Me.” His mouth attacks mine, his tongue showing me more than words can say. I guess teasing him like that would be a bad idea.

I lift my leg and hike it up over his thigh, drawing him closer into me. His hands cups my ass, lifting me up he walks me back, my shoulders reaching the coolness of the wall. My body is suspended between him and the wall. Keeping me steady, he moves his hips, his arousal finding the spot.

Matching his rhythm, I let myself build. A whimper escapes as he moves his mouth down the side of my face continuing down my cheek, slowly descending toward my neck. He nibbles and sucks at the softness of my skin right near my collarbone. My head in a haze, the closeness of his body, and him trapping me to the wall, leaves me panting for more. I reach down, working the buckle and button as fast as I can. My soft fingers dive in and wrap around his rapidly growing erection.

“Kadence,” he warns, my name coming out as a sigh.

His cock jumps at the pressure as I squeeze him in my hand, telling me he wants me just as much as I want him. His lips work their way back up to my mouth, while I pump my hand up and down his cock.

“Fuck, woman, don’t think I don’t know what your game is. If your hand didn’t feel so fuckin’ good squeezin’ me tight, I’d take you over my knee for the shit you keep pullin’.” He makes a sound, which comes from the back of his throat, before his mouth comes down hard on mine. I open, allowing entry as his tongue comes out stroking me to ecstasy. My movements become harder, faster, rocking in unconscious time against him. He pulls back, eyes full of desire, breathing ragged.

“Fuck it,” he laments giving into the pleasure. He carries me back over to the bed. Throwing me down, I bounce on landing. My hands go to my shirt, ripping it over my head. I have no shame. How I can go from hiding away embarrassed to ripping my clothes off in two nights? I have no idea. It’s like the need is taking over.

His body covers mine; the heat instantly has me craving more. My hands grip the sheets as his hot wet tongue circles my nipple and his fingers work the place I’m most desperate. With his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling at my sensitive clit, my head falls to the side as I feel the waves begin to build with each roll of my hips. His calloused fingers are rough against my bare core. Moaning his name, I reach down and grab hold of his hard length, keen to have him inside of me again. He moves his hand, taking it up to my lonely nipple while his mouth works the other.

Bringing his knee up between my legs, he pushes in, his upper thigh right where my burn is. “Rub yourself up against me,” he commands, as the momentum of rolling myself up against his thick thigh takes over. I’ve never dry humped anyone before, but the wild waves of pleasure hitting me right now is enough to make me want to savor the intensity of it.

“Eyes, Kadence,” he warns, moving his mouth onto my left breast. He looks up at me as I look down, our gazes locked. Goose bumps break out over my skin as his teeth latch onto my nipple, rolling the erect bud over the sharpness before biting down hard. The orgasm hits fast, starting from my toes and ripples through me. My grip tightens around him; grinding my hips against him as a tidal wave of enormous power sends me over in a final shattering release.

“Fuck,” he hisses before releasing himself into my hand, the warmth of his cum coating my fingers as I squeeze him dry. His approval, a harsh cry of raw masculine satisfaction, tells me his release was just as intense as mine.

“You’re gonna kill me if we keep acting like fourteen-year-old horny teenagers,” he pants in short bursts.

I don’t know about horny teenagers, but the chemistry is intense for grown adults. Even masturbation between us is as hot as the real deal.

“You’ve made a mess,” I laugh, looking down at his pants, my hands covered in him.

“Let me clean up. I'm gonna be late, but fuck, that was worth it.” Pulling back, he plants a gentle kiss to my mouth, stands and walks to the bathroom.

I lie naked, the orgasm aftermath still floating through my body. My limbs are heavy and relaxed, but the need to have him is nowhere near filled. Knowing that’s all I’m going to get, with Nix needing to sort out club business, I follow him into the bathroom.

After we both clean up, Nix makes me promise that I’ll wear my panties out in the club. I roll my eyes at his command but agree I’ll be on my best behavior. Kissing me senseless, he leaves me alone with a vow to be back and ready to take me again.

Flopping down on the bed, I let out a frustrated sigh at my now boring morning. I’m not keen on leaving the room without Nix, so I guess I could go back to sleep. My phone beeps next to me as I settle back in under the covers. I reach over and grab it from the bedside table checking the screen.

UNKNOWN: Kadence, we need to talk. Urgently. You’re in danger. Call me. Zane

Zane. I freaking knew I saw him last night. What a freaking asshole, dipshit motherfucker. I should have gone looking for him and given the man a piece of my mind. Still in bed, I stare at my phone, emotions raging through me. I can’t understand why after three years, he finally contacts me. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. The urge to see him again and wanting to punch him in the junk is tearing me apart. I don’t know what to say, how to answer. I don’t have a chance to respond as another text comes through.

UNKNOWN: If you don’t want what happened to our house to happen to Holly, you will meet me.

What the hell? Was that a threat? He is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. I can’t believe I was going to marry him. Rage now replaces any notion that he finally came back for me.

KADENCE: What do you want, asshole?

I text back, already regretting it. Engaging with him will only spell trouble.

UNKNOWN: Meet me down by our old house. At the park on Old Bay Road.

I contemplate not going, telling him to go to hell. I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to get out of the clubhouse, but the idea of Holly’s place ending in the same fate as mine makes me have second thoughts.

Shit.

KADENCE: What time?

UNKNOWN: One hour.

While texting Holly there’s a change of plan and I need her to meet me at the front of the Knights Rebels compound, I race around the room searching for my panties, skirt and shoes. My phone beeps again. I pick it up quickly to see if Holly can pull off my request.

HOLLY: On my way.

She’s so good to me. Running my hand over my bedhead, I take a large shaky breath. Am I really going to go do this? Maybe I should text Nix. Pushing that thought away, I steel myself ready to handle Zane myself. The asshole took too much away from me. I'm not going to give up a perfect opportunity to let him have a piece of my mind. Quietly, I make my way out of Nix’s room. I know Nix asked me to stay, but he didn’t say I had to stay. If he were here, I would probably do the same thing. Wouldn’t I? Either way, I’m leaving. I need to sort out my dipshit ex and hope whatever he has to say doesn’t end in me wanting to murder him.

16

NIX

BACK WHEN MY dad and the Knights Rebels Originals ran the drug trade of Rushford, Nevada, they would never even think about doing what we are about to do. Things were a lot different, and riding freely onto Mayhem territory is something that just did not happen. Even with the truce, I don’t like what we’re about to do.

Pulling into the parking lot fifteen minutes outside of town, I prepare myself for the shit storm that I can feel brewing. Today is a friendly gathering: three boys each. I brought Sy, Brooks and Jesse with me, leaving Beau back at the compound.

T and his boys sit in the back corner and I make my way to their table. The boys hang back, keeping our meeting relaxed.

“Nix,” T says, nodding his head. I can see he’s pissed that we called this meeting but fuck if I give a shit.

T is a large bastard. His shaved head shows off his tattooed skull giving him a menacing look. A scar that runs from his temple to his jaw takes me back to the night that my pops gave it to him. The Knights Rebels had intercepted some of their men on our territory and took them to the warehouse. My father had a huge barn set up out the back of a brother’s farm where they held most of their illegal dealings. That was the first mistake that changed the course of our lives. Being so close to town, so close to civilians, he didn’t realize how open it left our loved ones.

Mayhems were on our territory and that’s all that mattered in the war between the two clubs. My pops was still pissed at me, still unsure what I wanted to do with my life, and this one particular night, he took me out to the barn to show me how they ran the guns. I wasn’t prepared for what unfolded. I witnessed them torture two men for walking over some imaginary line they had made up.

Watching my father slice open the side of T’s face sealed the fate of my mother; only at the time, no one was to know that. T was a runt, a prospect for the Mayhems, and only a year older than me.

My father let the men go that night, a warning for all not to fuck with Red Knight and the Knights Rebels; that was his second mistake. I learnt not long after that an outlaw MC doesn't take too kindly to a threat, and the retaliation that followed cost my sweet mom her life.

Shaking away thoughts that won’t help me now, I take a seat opposite T. The scowl on his face leaves no question that he’s just as excited about our meet as I am.

“Wanna tell me why the fuck you’re wagin’ war with Gunner Jamieson and why we’re in the middle of it?” I get straight to the point, no time for idle chitchat. After Beau had got a hold of him last night, we learnt that the Mayhems weren’t responsible for the attacks on the two shops.

“Wanna tell me why you intercepted our shipment?” he replies with his own question.

“What the fuck you talkin’ bout, T?”

“Our weapons shipment, word out is some of your men were in on it. Now, I know our club has the truce, but you double cross me, Nix, we got fuckin’ problems. I had a big marker on this one, and I’m not taking it lightly that you got your fuckin’ hands in on this. You want in, then this makes it fair game, guns and drugs,” he declares, and I feel my temper slowly rising. T and his boys don’t like the truce for the simple fact that they run a different way than us. Where we keep it clean, they are prepared to get as dirty as possible. But now that we’re out of the game, T and his boys benefit more than we do.

“The fuck, T? You know our hands are clean. Our history speaks for itself. If I wanted back in, you sure as hell would know it.”

“Don’t give a shit about history or respect. I’ve got a fuckin’ truck load riding on this,” he responds.

“You should care about respect, brother. You've got a lot more ridin’ on this. Don’t know what the fuckin’ deal is, but your info is wrong. We got nothin’ to do with it. You’re dealin’ with Gunner Jamieson and his crew all the way on this one. Our hands are clean, and you know it,” I inform him. “And don’t forget, T, you start pushin’ drugs in Rushford, you’ll need to prepare yourself for shit to go down. You have my word,” I tell him, meaning it. The market of Rushford is off limits, and we’ve made it our job to keep it safe. The Knights Rebels and the Mayhems made that deal five years ago, and that still stands solid. They keep their shit out of our town, and we leave them to run shop how they see fit in their territory.

He holds my gaze searching for some tell that I’m bullshitting him. I’m not. We both know drugs in my territory are not taken lightly.

“I’ll sort out Gunner. Don’t worry, that fucker and I go way back,” he assures me.

“Well fuckin’ sort it quick. We’ve got break ins and fires happenin’ on our side of town. As far as we are concerned, this is your mess you need to clean up. The last thing we need is Jamieson stickin’ his nose in our business. This shit lies on you. If you can’t deal with him, we’re gonna step up and you know that won’t be a fuckin’ fun fair,” I threaten. I don’t want to get involved; the boys and I work hard to keep out of the shit that gets thrown around, but we will if they can’t contain it.

“I told ya, we fuckin’ got it,” T barks, and I don’t miss the warning in his tone. Nodding my head, I let it go. Last thing we need right now is pissing each other off, especially with Gunner sniffing around.

After talking for another ten minutes about the issues they’ve been having with Jamieson, we agree to keep the lines open. I’m not sure if T and his crew are going to be able to handle the asshole by themselves. Impatient to head back and see Kadence, we leave T and his boys in the diner and make our way back out to our bikes.

“Boss man,” Jesse calls out as I mount my ride. I can feel a headache coming on after dealing with T and all the shit that comes with it. I hope there is no more shit to deal with.

“Kadence left.”

Fuck me, I spoke too soon.

“What the fuck do you mean she left?” I ask, my headache now throbbing. “Where the fuck did she go?”

“Her friend picked her up outside the club twenty minutes ago.”

Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I see a text.

KADENCE: Sorry I had to go, explain later.

I dial her number. She ignores the call, letting it go to voicemail.

“Kadence, call me back,” I demand. Hanging up, I send her a text.

NIX: Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass. Call me.

“Did Beau get eyes on her?” I ask Jesse, hoping he did as I asked when I left. I didn’t think she would run, but fuck, I must have known she would.

“Yeah, Hunter’s on her. Says she stopped off at her house, but left in her own car five minutes ago.”

Pocketing my phone, I look to the sky asking the big guy why he thinks it’s funny he sent me the most testing woman on earth. Brooks laughs beside me, telling me to get used to it.

“What way did she go?” I yell over the roar of the pipes, wanting to know what direction to start heading.

“South,” he tells me. My mind is already trying to figure out where she could be going. We pull out of the diner’s parking lot and head back south in search of my woman. The same woman who needs to learn that no matter how many times she runs, I’m gonna keep finding her.

17

KADENCE

PULLING into the old street that I use to live on, I start to second-guess my choice of meeting Zane. My exit of the clubhouse didn’t go to plan. To say Beau wasn’t too keen with me just leaving would be an understatement. After pleading that I had an emergency, he gave me the choice of waiting for Nix, or letting him take me. None of those ideas worked for me, so I conceded and went back to Nix’s room to come up with another idea.

I had to not only get past Beau, but also make it out through the gates to get to Holly. I was screwed.

I ended up sneaking out through the back and creeping around to the side. Fate was on my side. As I made it to the gate, there was a commotion with some guys about to ride out.

Somehow, the guy at the gate wasn’t where he was supposed to be and I walked straight out and into Holly’s car before they noticed I was gone. I kept the text from Zane and what I was going to do from Holly. I didn’t need her following me and going all badass on him. I needed to get this over and done with before Nix found out I left.

My phone rings as if on cue and I look down and see Nix calling. Ignoring the call, I throw my cell in the back of the car. I can’t be tempted, and I need to get this over with.

My palms sweat and a wave of nausea grips me as I drive past our old house. No signs of the fire that destroyed my home, but I know different. The memories of the flames and the smell of the charred remains will always stay with me. Pulling up in front of the old park, I spot a figure sitting on the park bench.

Getting out of my car, I walk the short distance down the old path. Zane stands and walks forward, his dark hair now longer and pulled back into a short ponytail. He looks so different from the last time I saw him. His expensive cut suit fits his body like a second skin, and I can’t help notice how well he looks. The thought makes me angry; he took something away from me and left me broken. Not broken, Kadence, just scarred.

The last time I saw Zane, I had gone to bed defeated. His behavior in the weeks leading up to the fire was out of character. He was acting strangely, snapping at me one minute and then being over-attentive the next. He was fidgety and secretive. Holly suspected drugs but I put it down to stress; working for an impressive architect firm here in Rushford wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

He worked hard to move his way up, and that hard work paid off. Their sister company had just acquired a bid for a new development in California, his dream job, and we had to make a decision if we were going to pack up and move closer or try the long-distance thing. I’d just secured a full-time position at Rushford Elementary and wasn’t prepared to give up my dream of being a teacher in my hometown, but Zane wanted me by his side and it was something we fought constantly over.

That night Zane had received a call that he took outside; we were going out for the night with some of his work friends to celebrate his promotion. I put the night down to being a bust after that phone call. He came back inside with a mood and snapped at everything I did, what I was wearing, how I had my makeup, even the way I smelt. We had been together for three years, only recently engaged, and he stood there and tore me to shreds. I tried to ignore the words he spewed at me, but the ugliness of them was too much. Each insult broke me down with every blow he dealt. I was pathetic. He could do so much better. He wasted three years of his life.

I tried everything not to believe them. I was lost and thought the man I was going to marry was having a hard time dealing with the stress of work, the uncertainty of where we were going, and I wasn’t making it easier for him. It was only natural that he would take it out on me. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to be his partner and stand by his side through it all, so I brushed off his abuse hoping once we made our decision regarding his job, everything would go back to normal.

The whole night he continued being in a foul mood, his work buddies not once looking uncomfortable with his constant digs at me. By the end of the night, I was beaten down. I realized, in between listening to the venom he spat out at me and the looks he was giving other women, that Zane was no longer the man I agreed to marry. I didn’t know what was happening to him. I was concerned for him, for me and for us. I made it in the front door back home before unleashing my anger on him. We argued for over an hour, me accusing him of anything and everything. He was accusing me of being paranoid, not supporting him. I went to bed exhausted and drained, with no idea what I was going to do. When I woke up in the middle of the night to our house burning around me, I had no clue that it was because of Zane. I only later found out Zane wasn’t coming back.

Determined not to fall down the hole of why, I straighten my shoulders ready to meet him.

“Kadence,” he greets me, reaching for my hand. I pull back, not wanting his fingers touching mine.

“Cut the bullshit, Zane,” I snap back at him. “What the hell do you want?” He looks taken back for a moment. His blue eyes look shocked, not used to my attitude. He wouldn't. He missed the phase of me dealing with my anger after I almost died.

“I need your help—” he begins before I instantly cut him off.

“Do you think I’m dense? Do you honestly think I’d believe you’ve come back to town for my help?” I laugh, knowing I won’t fall for his shit.

“Is this how you greet your fiancé after three years, Kadence?” His question angers me, but not as much as his disregarded that it has been just that. Three years.

“After everything you have done to me? What you put me through? Yes, I would say that’s just about right,” I manage to fire back without clawing his eyes out. What is wrong with this man? What is wrong with me for even thinking I was in love with him?

“Kadence, cut the dramatics. Yes, I did a shitty thing, but you’re okay. You're fine. I’ve seen you the last few weeks. If anything, you’ve bounced back well.”

“I’ve bounced back? My life isn’t a fucking ball game, Zane. You destroyed it; took it all away from me. I can’t believe I even agreed to come here.” I begin to feel more stupid with each second that passes.

"You don't mean that, baby." He steps forward, giving me the look that used to get me.

“Baby? Jesus, you are fucking dumb. I’m done. Leave me alone. I’m not getting involved with whatever bullshit you have gotten yourself into.” I turn to go, ready to be out of his presence. I know he threatened me with Holly’s house, but standing in front of him, that terror that he once placed in me is now replaced with pity. The man is pathetic. I don’t know that he won’t follow through, but standing here, listening to him telling me I’m being dramatic proves it wouldn’t matter what I did. He is going to do what he wants.

“Kadence,” he calls out, as I walk away. “I need my money from the house,” he tries again, and this time I bite.

“You what?” I ask, wanting to double check what I just heard, hoping I heard different, ‘cause there is no way in hell he just asked me for money, considering the asshole cleaned me out.

“The money I put into the house. It’s mine, and I want it back.”

I laugh in his face. The guy has a screw loose that’s for sure.

“Zane, the house sold last year. It has been three years of no contact from you, and now you want money? Do you even care that you left me alone in that house to die? Do you understand the surgeries I went through and the pain? You missed it all.” The memories of feeling lost and alone slowly seep their way out. I’ve kept them so deeply locked away, having them surface again feels foreign to me. “You never returned any of my calls. Do you even care that I could have died, that I nearly did?” I shake my head, knowing it’s all lost on him. He doesn’t care, doesn’t give a shit.

“You stole from me. Cleaned me out. You no longer have the rights to anything that came from that house. You had a chance to come home. You didn’t. What did you expect? That I was going to wait for you? You left me to burn, all over an unpaid debt to a motorcycle gang,” I scream, finally losing it. Fuck him and his indifference. A rage boils within, my hands itching to lash out at him. Every moment I lived through because of him comes to the surface as I let everything out.

“Step back, Kadence,” someone demands from behind me. His voice that controlled anger I remember back at the school with his ex.

Nix. Shit.

“No way, Nix,” I argue, ignoring his demand, ready to take both of these men on.

“I’m not kidding, Kadence. You need to move behind me right now.” The tone of his voice plunges into a low and fierce level, but it’s the way he barks my name that puts me on alert. We've come to blows a few times now, but this? This is a whole new level of anger. I look at him, slightly afraid and not sure if I’m scared for my safety or if I’m scared that I have made him mad. I like to push him to frustration, but to anger boiling over, I’m not too sure. I move to the side and slide in behind him. I notice Jesse come up behind me with Brooks closing me into the side.

“What’s this, Kadence?” Zane yells out. For a second there, I forgot the asshole was here.

“You speak to me and only me.” Nix walks forward, getting into Zane’s space. Two guys wearing black walk out from behind some trees, closing in next to Zane. What the hell is going on?

“You wanna tell me why the hell you're talkin’ to my woman, Edwards?” Nix spits out, calling Zane by his last name. What the hell. How does Nix know Zane?

“Your woman? Guess you’d be the type to go for another man’s woman,” Zane fires back smiling.

“The fuck you just say?” Nix walks further up to him. Zane holds his ground, but I can see by the look in his eyes he’s holding back some fear. He must grow some confidence or have a death wish because he responds.

“What I should have said is that your ‘woman’ is my fiancée and that sexy mouth of hers has been around my cock plenty of times,” he smirks.

I don’t know what universe I’ve stepped into, but I’m standing frozen, listening to my ex-fiancé describe to my current lover, who is now looking every bit the scary biker dude, that I’ve had my mouth around his cock. Oh, shit.

“Kadence, get in the car,” Nix addresses me. His stare is still firmly on Zane.

“Nix—” I begin.

“Kadence, get in the goddamn car, now!” he bellows out, and I shrink back at his harsh tone. “Jesse, take her,” he demands, still not looking at me. Jesse grabs my hand and pulls me to follow him. Looking up at Zane, I see the bastard has a smile on his face, clearly enjoying the show.

“Bye, Kadence, it’s been great catching up. Shame you’ve turned into a biker whore—” He doesn't finish his sentence because Nix throws a punch, hitting him square in the jaw.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” I hear Nix say as Jesse drags me further back to the car.

“JESUS, woman, what the fuck is that all about?” Jesse asks when he opens the car door for me, my hands too shaky to get the keys out of my handbag.

“I have no idea, Jesse. Zane is my ex; the one I told you about. He sent me a text and told me he needed to talk, threatened me if I didn’t come.”

“Sweetheart, you need to get it together and drive back to the compound now.” I shake my head, not liking that idea, with Nix and his anger.

“I’m not sure Nix will want that, Jesse,” I voice my concern.

“Kadence, I’m telling you now, it will be a whole lot worse if you don’t get your ass back to the club. Trust me.” I nod my head, not prepared to discuss with him.

“How does Nix know Zane?” I ask, afraid of the answer. My whole world feels like it has just been turned on its axis, and I feel like I’m missing something.

“You might know him as Zane sweetheart, but around here, he’s known as Edwards, and that bastard holds the second highest position in the drug cartel organization. In other words, your ex is a very dangerous man. Now go. We’ll explain it all when we get back.” I slowly nod and get into the driver's seat, hoping my shaking hands calm enough for me to drive.

“Straight back to the clubhouse,” Jesse repeats, leaning into the car.

He closes the door and watches me take in what he just told me. Zane Edwards, the man I was engaged to, wasn't a part of any organization; he was an architect. We lived in a four-bedroom home, and we were in the middle of planning our wedding. No way was he into drugs. I would have seen it. Wouldn’t I?

Starting the car, I force myself to relax and keep myself together. The need to get away, away from Zane and away from Nix is too much to ignore. I know Jesse told me to go back to the compound, but facing Nix, knowing that he knows I was with that man, makes me turn home instead.

I need Holly.

I need her to tell me what to do. I’ve got bigger issues than I first thought. If Zane is this big drug thug who runs with bad people, why does he want money from me? He can’t be that hard up for money, could he? Or is he playing me for bigger things?

Driving past our old house, I have to wonder how it all came to this. We were in love. The man I saw today was not the man whom I was prepared to give my life to. That man is long gone. If only I had seen that sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have had to go through everything I had. The fire, the nightmares, it all comes back, and now I’m hanging by a thread and barely keeping it together.

I force myself to push the pain that I’ve long forgotten down, and not allow the darkness to creep in. When I’m back in the safety of my home, the safety that Holly gives me, only then will I allow myself to break.

18

NIX

POCKETING MY PHONE, I let out a frustrated sigh. Kadence was engaged to that fucking asshole? It’s too fucked up to process. Talk about twisted. This guy is dangerous, and as second to Gunner Jamieson, I have no doubt this little meeting was set up.

“What’s happening, boss?” Brooks asks, and I turn looking at him and Sy. I sent Jesse to follow Kadence ‘cause I knew she wouldn’t go back like she was told. Stubborn-ass woman.

“The damn woman didn’t go back to the clubhouse.”

“Figured,” he smiles, shaking his head. “Get used to it, brother. Been with Kelly for ten years, and the wife still doesn’t listen to me.”

I shake my head, not thinking of the next ten years. I don’t know if I’ll last a month without that woman doing my head in. That’s a lie; the thought thrills me. What pisses me off is knowing that the asshole has had her. Had what’s mine.

“You stupid fuckers are mad, thinking you can’t control a woman,” Sy informs us. He doesn’t normally give us his opinion, but lately I’ve noticed a slight change in him. I’ve grown to like the silent Sy. This new one is a little strange to get used to.

I shake my head knowing he’s right, but even if I never control Kadence, even if I have to give her my balls on a silver platter, I know it would be better than anything I’ve ever had. When I ended things with Addison, I never thought I would find myself wanting a relationship again. Kadence is different. Her fucking mouth is always fighting me, pushing me, and pulling me. I can’t get enough.

I nearly killed that asshole for speaking that way about Kadence. He had it coming, but calling her a whore, fuck. I turned red with fury. No one calls my woman a whore. After Jesse pulled her away, the asshole Edwards took the blow I delivered. He stood there with a smile on his face as he wiped the blood trail from the corner of his mouth; the guy is whacked. After telling him to not contact her again, I made it very clear where we stand on territory. Letting him know about our meeting with the Mayhems earlier, he didn’t seem so smug. The fucker is trying to play us and knowing that alone gives us a one up. Something about the club has him running scared. I only hope he doesn’t grow some balls and come running back. We gave him a message to send along to his boss, Gunner: under no circumstances will we ever allow their business to hit our streets. I don’t give a fuck what I have to do, even if we have to go above the law. This bullshit territory war they’ve got going on with the Mayhems needs to end.

“Want us to follow you?” Brooks asks, knowing I’m in for some fun.

“Fuck no. I’m not ready for my boys to see me get my balls handed to me,” I tell them, watching them laugh. Fuckers have no idea. “Head back. I’ll stay with her tonight, or head back to mine. Either way, she’s with me.” Brooks and Sy nod before taking off on their Harleys. I don’t know what fucking game Gunner is playing, but using me as a pawn in his war with the Mayhems is one thing. Using my woman is a whole other story. Pulling out onto the street, I make my way to Kadence's house. I need answers to why she ever thought meeting with Edwards was a bright idea. Surely, she knows how dangerous and crazy the fucker is?

“OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR, Kadence” I bang for the fucking tenth time. The woman is stubborn; I’ll give her that.

“Go away, badass biker daddy. She doesn’t want to see you,” her friend Holly calls back.

“Swear to Christ, woman, open the damn door or I’ll kick the fuckin’ thing down,” I yell out, my patience wearing thin.

“Nix, can you just give me tonight? Please,” Kadence calls through the door, her voice soft and quiet, letting me know she’s right there at the door. So close, yet I can feel her already pulling away.

“Babe, whatever you’ve got goin’ on in your head, get it out.” I move to the door, resting my forehead on the dark wood. “Let me in, Kadence. I’m not leavin'.” The silence is deafening before the latch on the lock clicks, and I step back waiting to see her. The door opens enough for me to walk through, and I enter, kicking it shut behind me. Not noticing the apartment around me, my eyes zero in on her. She stands in front of me, her dark hair in a knot on top of her head. Loose strands hang free, framing her face. Even in a tight cami with matching pajama bottoms, she looks amazing. Every bit of her screams sexy and fuckable. I walk forward, but her hands come up, stopping my pursuit.

“Don’t,” she orders me, but it’s not the command that stops me. It's the tone in her voice. I’m taken back by the coldness of it, of her. Looking into her eyes, I see the same look of vulnerability I witnessed when she showed me her scars back at my house.

“Don’t what, Kadence? Don’t comfort you when you’re standin’ over there all in your head, overthinkin’ some serious fucked-up shit? If you think I’m gonna let you push me away, you got another thing comin'.” I move forward and pull her into my arms. Her vanilla-smelling shampoo invades my senses, reminding me of her scent on my pillow back home. Her body sags against me, the fight in her escaping.

“Wanna tell me why you’re meetin’ with your asshole ex in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere?”

“Nix, it was fine.”

“No, Kadence,” I warn, my tone leaving no argument that I want the details.

“He’s in bed with a fuckin’ drug kingpin, babe. You weren’t fine,” I tell her, stepping back to look at her face creased with concern.

“Nix, I didn’t know that. I swear. He wasn’t selling drugs when we were engaged.” The words leave her mouth, but with her teeth biting down on her bottom lip in worry, I know she’s starting to question it.

She has every right to question it. That asshole has been around for the last four years and has only recently worked his way up to be Gunner’s right-hand man.

“What did he want?”

“What did you do to him?” She ignores my question, asking her own.

“What did he want?” I repeat, not prepared to let her know I used my fists while he ran his mouth. I already know her feelings on using your fists.

“He wants money. He lent me money to put into the house, and now he wants it back.”

“He doesn’t want your money, babe. He has plenty; he's just testin’ the waters. His boss controls the drug trade in two counties and is movin’ in on ours. He has the Warriors of Mayhem in his sights. If he gets their territory, then we got major problems here in town.” I feel myself getting worked up at the thought, but I don’t miss the ghastly whiteness spread over her face. “What is it?” Her body stiffens at my question.

“Do you know the Warriors of Mayhem?” The question comes out like she’s shocked.

“Yeah, babe, I do.” She pulls back abruptly, moving out of my arms.

“What is it?” The color of her face makes me uneasy. The fear and anger mixed in with a tortured look doesn’t sit well with me.

“Are they your friends?” She takes another step back further away from me, like she’s frightened.

“I wouldn’t call them my friends. We keep out of each other's business. We have an agreement and sometimes have to do things for each other, why?” She shakes her head, not letting me in.

“What is it, Kadence?”

I’m starting to wonder if she knows someone in the club. The anger in her eyes tells me it’s bad.

“They were responsible for the fire,” she says quietly before continuing, “Zane owed them money, and he didn’t pay. That’s what the police told me. I lost my home because they wanted their money.”

Fuck me. My day just got a whole lot more messed up.

“He owed them a lot more than money. He used their money and tried to set up his own distribution in town. That is a big fuckin’ no,” I try to explain the situation. “The Warriors of Mayhem and our club have an arrangement: no drugs in Rushford. We’ve kept it clean for the last five years. Edwards has been around that whole time, tryin’ to break through that law.”

She shakes her head not accepting what I’m telling her. She walks over to the living room, planting her ass down on her leather sofa. “I’m serious, Kadence. He started out small time, got into some serious shit with Gunner and fucked with the MC. I’m tellin’ you now that shit falls back on him settin’ up in town.”

“It doesn’t matter what it was, Nix. They are responsible for what happened to me.” I walk toward her, squatting down in front of her.

“I don’t doubt your anger, Kadence. Knowin’ they did that makes me see red, but that anger and that fear needs to be directed at your ex.”

“So you think it’s okay that they set my house on fire, just because it was a warning?”

“Fuck no,” I quickly reply, sensing things are getting way out of hand. It’s not fucking okay, but fuck, I have to explain how dangerous these men are. I have no doubt the Mayhems threatened her; this is how they run. I feel conflicted in wanting to agree with her, but at the same time, I don’t. “Kadence, just let me get my head around the fact that you were even engaged to that asshole.”

“Don’t bother. It sounds to me like you’re defending them. Is that what sort of club you run?” She’s not listening to what I have to say and I have no idea how to get through.

“Kadence, don’t fuckin’ put words in my mouth. All I’m sayin’ is you obviously don’t know the truth. All this anger should be directed to your ex. Goin’ to a fuckin’ secluded park with a man like Edwards is not smart. What were you thinkin’?”

“He’s my ex. I was fine,” she dismisses my concern, pissing me off.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told. That and how much you loved working your warm mouth on him. No wonder you’re so good at it,” I lash out and regret the words before I finish saying them. Her hand comes across my face, the slap stinging my cheek, the sound echoing in the quiet living area, shocking both of us.

“Get out.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I swear to God, Nix, get the fuck out of my house. I've got nothing to say to you.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot to say to you. Be pissed. That was a shitty thing to say, but fuck, listenin’ to him tell me about you workin’ his cock wasn’t on top of my list of things I wanna fuckin’ hear. I told you to stay put. I don’t fuckin’ have time to be chasin’ your ass cause you decide to get a wild hair and fuck off.” I can feel my anger rising and I can see hers bubbling under my gaze.

“Nix, just go. I don’t want to see you anymore. This thing between us will never work if you’re in bed with those types of people,” she repeats my words about her ex back at me. I know she's angry, but so am I. I don’t wanna leave her, but I sure as fuck don’t wanna play games. I think about leaning and taking her mouth, claiming it to show her I can see past this bullshit argument. I know she’s freaking out and trying to push me away.

Deciding to do just that, I lean in and slam my mouth on hers. She fights it, her hands coming to my chest pushing me back. I push further, intent to taste her, to calm her. I just want to make her see that I’m not what she thinks I am. My hand cups her neck, pulling her closer to me. Her soft lips open slightly, and for a second, I think I’ve got her, my tongue sliding into the wetness, seeking to entwine with hers, until she latches onto it and bites down hard.

“Fuck, Kadence, why’d the fuck you do that?” I ask, pulling back from her lips. My question comes out as a lisp. A warm, metallic, salty taste mixes with my saliva. Her hands come to my shoulders, pushing me back. I fall flat on my ass but watch her stand and walk to the front door.

“Go, Nix. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Her face holds no emotion. It’s like she's just mentally switched off from me. Holly walks into the room watching our exchange carefully, but not saying anything. She looks to Kadence and back to me.

“Kadence,” I sigh, rising from the floor, wiping the blood on my sleeve.

“Save it. You have no idea what you’re talking about, Nix. You weren’t there. You didn’t experience what I went through. For you to sit there telling me I’m misdirecting my anger, you're no better than Zane, and that just proves it. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” She draws in a hard breath.

“Kadence.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

I walk up to her realizing I’ve totally screwed this up. The fun, flirty, sassy woman I’ve come to know over the last couple of weeks is gone, and standing in front of me is a cold replacement. Smartass Kadence is hot, but pissed off Kadence is something else. I know I’m not going to get through to her right now. Her ability to act indifferent doesn’t surprise me; she's been like this from the moment I met her. But I’ve also seen her open up, seen the other side of this cold indifference.

“You think I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, Kadence? That same club that you hate so much took my mom from me. I know exactly what you’re goin’ through. If you would just calm the fuck down, you would see I don’t condone any of this shit, so don’t play that card with me.” My words register to her and understanding washes over her features before she hides it. We both stand quietly watching each other.

“I realized I fucked up here and you’re angry. I get that. So I’m gonna let you calm down, let both of us calm down, but make no mistake, I’m comin’ back and we will talk about this,” I tell her when she doesn’t say anything. I lean down to kiss her lips, but she turns her head, giving me her cheek.

Fuck me.

I walk straight out and then listen to her slam the door behind me. My fist connects to the wall beside me. Pain radiates through my hand, taking my mind off the fucked-up shit that just happened. Looking back at the door, I stand for a few minutes hoping she changes her mind. When the door doesn’t open, I walk away, pissed that I’m not with her right now, pissed that I fucked it up and even more pissed Zane Edwards is the cause of it all.

Motherfucker is gonna pay.

19

KADENCE

THROWING BACK ANOTHER SHOT, I let the burn take over and allow the warmth to soothe me. Good God, I needed that.

Turning around from the bar, I scan the club trying to find something to take my mind off the emptiness that has taken residence in me all week. Holly and I are back at Liquid, and if I’m going to be stuck here for the night, I may as well make the most of it. Holly dragged me out kicking and screaming after sulking all week at the way things ended with Nix. I keep replaying the whole scene in my head, and each word, each action leaves me cringing. I fucked up. Bad.

Taking my drink, I make my way back to our table. I stumble slightly, the fifth shot making its way through my system. Yes, just what I was looking for, total oblivion.

“Whoa there, sweetheart,” a familiar voice breathes over my ear while reaching for me before my ass lands on the floor.

“Jesse? What are you doing here?” I ask as I look up and gain my feet, walking the rest of the way back to my chair.

“What? Didn’t you know?” he barks out a short laugh and sits down next to me. “Kadence, the Knights Rebels own this place.” He shakes his head.

What the hell? How did I not know that? I need to pay more attention.

“Tell me he isn’t here.” A spark ignites for a second, and I look around hoping to see him but praying I don’t.

“God, no.” He shakes his head. “He sees you wearing that dress, you'd be out of here before you’d even see it coming.” Like hell, I would be. I wouldn’t give up without a fight. Besides, Nix and I are done. I haven’t heard from him since I tossed him out last Sunday; it’s now Friday. He did tell me he would call me, but I haven’t heard from him since he texted me later that first night, telling me he wished I was with him, in his bed. I ignored him, my stubborn ass pushing him further away. Am I hurt that he hasn’t called? Yes and no. What girl doesn’t want a guy to call and sweep her off her feet, but at the same time, I’ve been hanging onto the anger all week. Holly’s pissed at me because I met with Zane without her and that my stubborn ass is refusing to contact Nix. To top it all off, after the way I acted, she is siding with Nix.

“Wanna tell me what you’ve done to our Prez?” Jesse elbows me, taking me out of my alcohol-induced fog.

“What are you talking about, Jesse?” I act unaffected. I don’t want to get into it with him.

“He’s been sulking around all week, and I haven’t seen you around. Put two and two together.” He sits back, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. I ignore his question and the pang of guilt I feel at hearing Nix is having a shit week like me. I look out at the dance floor trying to find Holly. I spot her dancing with a different guy than the one she went out there with. I wish I could be like her. I wish I had the freedom and the confidence not to be weighed down with my past worries. Nix was the first person who allowed me to do just that, and now after seeing Zane for ten minutes, I feel like everything is coming down around me. I’ve screwed things up. I bet he realizes what a raging bitch I am.

“What do you want me to say, Jesse?” I finally give him an answer. “He was an asshole. He said some shitty things. I responded with some shitty things, and then told him to leave and he did. I haven’t heard from him all week. End of story." I take a sip of my drink, washing the lie down. It burns worse than the truth.

“Not end of story, Kadence. Don’t feed me your bullshit.” I narrow my eyes at him and his ability to see through my bullshit. I’ve known Jesse for three years, and sitting here across from him, he looks like the same blond-haired, blue-eyed pretty boy I met on my first day in group therapy. I’d just come out of my last surgery. I hated the world, hated myself, and I didn’t want anyone’s help. The only person I let in was Holly, and let's be honest, that’s only because she wouldn’t leave me alone, even after telling her to take a hike. I was a single, twenty-seven-year-old woman whose body was deformed. I didn't want anyone’s pity; I didn’t want to meet with a former Marine, ex-firefighter trained counselor. I didn’t want to hear him tell me how lucky I was that I survived. I wanted to feel sorry for myself and be left alone. I walked into the session all anger and attitude. I didn't realize how far I was lost in my head.

Until Jesse pulled me firmly out.

Being in therapy, listening to Jesse’s stories of what he lived through over in the war, made me realize how lucky I was. I had survived my burns. I could move on. Listening and learning about other people’s stories left me heartbroken for them. While my injuries were extensive, and rehab and recovery was taking everything out of me, they by no means impaired me from living my everyday life. My self-loathing was for nothing. I survived, and the pretty-boy firefighter was the one to help me understand that. By showing me what he survived, what he endured and how he dealt with it, I was able to find the old Kadence and learn to accept what happened. Without Jesse, who knows where I would be. Having him come back into my life, by association feels right. He’s like a big brother I never had.

“Just leave it alone, Jesse, okay? It was nothing,” I tell him, my tone leaving no room to argue.

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he smirks, shaking his head.

“So how long you been a part of the MC?” I ask, curious to know. I would never have guessed Jesse was part of the MC.

“I patched in when I came back from my last tour.” He smiles. The man never stops smiling, always so happy.

“And you like it?” I ask, wondering what he gets out of being in a club like the Knights Rebels. I know Nix talked about brotherhood, but I wonder if Jesse feels the same way.

“It’s the closest thing to a family I’ve had in a long time. Nix saved me from a dark place, Kadence. I would do anything for that man.”

Of course he did. Another tick in the Nix-is-amazing column, and I remember what an idiot I am. A redhead walks over, whispers into Jesse’s ear, and plants her skinny ass on his lap.

Are you serious?

Rolling my eyes, I stand from the table not interested in watching Jesse pick up, and I’m over speaking about Nix. I’ve thought about him enough over the last six days, and I’m trying my best to leave it at what it was. I make my way through the crowd to the dance floor, leaving Jesse behind. He calls out, but I don’t turn back. The last thing I want to do is show him how much I’m struggling with my argument with Nix.

Bodies push into me as the tempo of the music slowly rises. Holly is dancing with a new guy, his hands roaming her body as she sways in time with the song. I move to her, ready to dance and forget about the shit week I’ve had. The alcohol running through my veins help me let go, my inhibitions a little relaxed.

My body moves to the beat of the music. Swaying my hips, I let the song wash over me. My arms take on a life of their own. Embracing the beat, I feel it resonate in my soul.

When was the last time I danced freely?

Hands come around me, settling on my waist. I freeze up for a second before forcing myself not to be tense. I push up against the person at my back, moving my body further into him. His hard chest is plastered to my back. The song changes, taking the tempo slower. The guy behind me grinds his hips into my ass, and I push back, molding my back to his front.

“Wanna get your fuckin’ hands off my woman?” Nix’s voice crackles with anger behind me. The body behind moves away, the heat I was feeling now gone as a new presence moves in. Damn, I didn’t even see the guy’s face. I go to turn, ready to tell the asshole I’m not his woman, but his tattooed arms come around my front, pinning me to his chest.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t take you over my fuckin’ knee right now?” His breath comes to my ear. My body is instantly turned on by his dirty words.

“Nix—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t, Kadence. It’s bad enough that you’re in my arms wearin’ this dress with those sexy fuckin’ heels after not havin’ you for five fuckin’ days, but that you let that guy touch you, touch what’s mine?” The gravelly sound of his voice sends a thrill down my spine. The breath of his voice brings goose bumps to my skin. For a moment, I forget I don’t like him anymore, forget that he has ignored me all week, and just enjoy that he called me his woman.

“You didn’t call,” I accuse him, trying to get out of his embrace, but he holds me steady, pulling me closer. God, even to my own ears I sound whiney. You didn’t call? Jesus, Kadence, grow a pair would you.

“I was waiting,” he replies as an explanation. “Thought I would give you some space. Though seeing your reaction to seeing me, I’m thinkin’ that was the wrong move.”

I’m pissed my body feels more alive than it has all week; my heart finally has that extra beat in it, my stomach full of butterflies that he’s here, touching me. My body begins moving to the music and my mind is unable to tell it to stop. I grind my backside into his hard length as his hands loosen their hold to move down to rest on my hips. Our bodies are swaying in a sensual rhythm.

“Babe, you gotta stop rubbin’ that sweet ass up against me,” he gripes, spinning me around to face him. My arms go up around his neck, and his smell invades my senses, the mixture of leather and his cologne pull me right back to our last night together.

Shit, all that hard work ruined by one sniff.

“What are you doing here?” I ask his chest. I can’t bring myself to look up at him.

“I fucked up, Kadence,” he admits, bringing his hand to my chin and lifting my face to look at him. His forehead creased in concern as he waits for me to respond.

“Nix, I was a bitch. Seeing Zane again… I don’t know, seeing him again brought up all these memories,” I immediately apologize, feeling like a brat. During the week, Holly and I did some digging and found out not only was Nix right about Zane, but also he was telling the truth about his mom. I felt like a real bitch.

“I get it, babe. I do. I was an ass, and I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he counter-apologizes. We both stand, watching each other. I didn’t see my night ending up like this, and now that he’s here in my arms, I don’t even know why I was ever so angry. Okay, I still remember what he said, but knowing what I know of Nix, it was a natural reaction to anger, like me slapping him. His eyes sparkle with mischief like he’s thinking something dirty and I can’t help the smile I give him. He leans down, and I come to my toes, his lips to mine. The roughness of his tongue pushes through like the last time he was on my lips, but this time, I don’t fight it.

So much for me holding my own.

I grant him access, his taste covering my tongue, our mouths connecting for forgiveness. Being in his presence again sets me on fire. The slow burn I’ve been feeling immediately ignites by one kiss. He pulls back, ending the hot but brief kiss. Running his eyes down the length of my body, he grabs my hand and pulls me off the dance floor. Taking long strides, he drags me behind, walking straight past Jesse, who still has the redhead on his lap, her breasts pressed up to his chest. He catches my eye and just shrugs. Traitor.

I scowl over at him letting him know I know that he is the one that ratted me out. He just laughs and gives me a wink. Nix pulls me around the corner and pushes me against the wall.

“Fuck, Kadence, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it all the way back home. I need to fuck you so bad.” His knee comes between my knees, spreading my legs further apart. The dirtiness of his words washes over me, and I’ve never felt more alive.

“On one hand, I wanna hike that barely-there sexy-as-fuck dress up and bury myself balls deep in you right now against this wall for every asshole to see that you’re fuckin’ mine.” His fingers slide slowly up my leg, coming to the hem of the dress. “But, on the other hand, I wanna take you home, fuckin’ make you wait for being a tease wearin’ this outfit in public.” I look down at the black dress I’m wearing. It’s nothing too sexy, but the way Nix keeps looking at me, you'd think I was naked.

“Take me home and fuck me,” I tell him. The dampness in my panties becomes uncomfortable after each word he grunts out. Anticipation builds, and all thoughts of my shitty week have left. His harsh words about Zane and the fire replaced by the dirty words he now speaks.

All that anger directed at him the last five days is now forgotten, because I know whatever he has planned will be something to be excited about.

20

NIX

PULLING up into my drive and helping Kadence off my bike takes all the self-control I possess. I’m working hard at reining it in. The overpowering need to take her right here on my bike is almost too much. Seeing her move her ass up against some asshole snapped something in me. I really fucked up on this one. I didn’t want to ignore her all week but after what went down, I just wasn't sure she was ready to hear what I had to say about Zane Edwards.

Gunner has been fuckin’ us all around, even starting in on Mayhem Territory now. T and his boys have yet to detain him or any of his crew. I know he’s waiting now, and I have a bad feeling that shit hasn’t even begun. T’s called in their neighboring chapters while we all prepare for shit to go down. Gunner’s using Zane’s relationship with Kadence to go up against the Knights Rebels. We’ve been busy keeping everyone at bay, and trying to get a lock down on him while making sure I always had eyes on Kadence. I didn’t trust that Edwards would leave her alone, and even if she was pissed at me, and I at her, I couldn’t leave her open to a threat by Edwards.

I messed up with how I reacted to Kadence and Zane. She apparently is still working through some of that shit, but I still stand behind what I think. Zane Edwards is dangerous. The asshole got himself into some messed up shit before he got into bed with Gunner. Owing the MC money, and then trying to get himself out of it, he went from one shitty situation to another. Do I agree with T and his boys threatening her? Setting her house on fire? Fuck no, but the Mayhems are one percenters; that shit wouldn’t bother them. They’ve done a hell of a lot worse and gotten away with it. Fuck, I’ve done worse. With her being the only connection to him, that threat had to go to someone. Once they realized he didn’t give a fuck what happened to her, they let her be. Now that Kadence is with me, none of that will fall back on her. I protect what’s mine and no one fucks with what’s mine.

Kadence pulls me out of my thoughts as her hand comes down and squeezes my throbbing cock.

“You going to fuck me on your front lawn or are you going to take me up to your bed?” Her smooth voice is challenging, but her lips, soft against my neck, are inviting. Jesus, I nearly take her right here but I’m sure the neighbors don’t want to see that show. Picking her up, I walk her to the front door. We’ve got five days to make up for and I’m not about to waste any time.

“WOW.” Her breath comes out shallow and fast above me, her bright smile infectious, lighting up the room. “I might have to instigate another argument if that’s how we make up,” she laughs, rolling off me.

“Fuck no. A week without your sweet pussy is not worth it,” I admit. Her smile deepens at my admission. Not seeing her, touching her, or even talking to her was bad enough.

“I’m sorry, Nix. I wish you didn't have to see that.” She shakes her head, reliving our messed up Sunday afternoon. “You were right; my anger should be at him. I knew that he left me there, left me without a backwards glance, but I guess I was holding on to the hope that something else happened. Maybe he didn’t want to leave me.” I lean down and kiss her swollen lips.

“I didn’t want you to learn that lesson, babe, not that way anyway.” I kiss her lips again, not getting enough of the softness of them.

“I know, Nix, but I realize now I was holding on to something that wasn’t there.”

I nod, glad that she can finally see that. “The Mayhems, they run a lot differently to us,” I begin, wanting this to be out there between us.

“It’s okay, Nix,” she interrupts me before I can even begin.

“No, Kadence, this situation is fucked and I need you to understand that I would never be okay with what they did to you, but you also have to know our relationship with that club is based on keeping the town safe. Both clubs have done things to hurt each other, but we’ve come to a point where it’s not worth it. I can’t just go in and seek revenge for what they did.”

“I’m not asking you to do that, Nix.”

“I know that, but I need to lay it out for you, okay?”

“Does your club do those sorts of things now?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, unsure of my answer.

“I’m not gonna lie. We sometimes have to do things that you’re not gonna like; that’s just the way it is. We do our best to keep out of that shit, but if we have to, we will go above the law.” She nods, not saying anything.

“You still with me here?” I ask, hoping this isn’t a deal breaker.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay if you break the law, but I think I can deal,” she admits, turning to me, and pulling the sheet up with her to cover herself. I stop her, pulling it off.

“Nix,” she argues, pulling it back up again.

“Don’t hide away from me.” I reach down, throwing the sheet off her again. I don’t like it when she shies away from me. Sometimes she can just let go, forget about the scars, while other times, she’ll hold herself back. I want her to feel confident and comfortable in my bed.

“I don’t want you to look at it,” she confesses. Her voice wavers and her hands cover the marred skin. I reach down and run my finger along the scar.

“Kadence, don’t ever be ashamed in front of me. You’re fuckin’ beautiful. This scar here," I move my finger along the rigid surface, "simply means you’re stronger than that asshole.”

My finger moves to the piercing that Sy gave her. It looks almost healed and so damn sexy; the soft glow of the bedside table lamp hits the golden bar. I play with the barbell, and watch as her belly contracts.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

She rolls onto her back, a breath escaping her in frustration at me asking. “It’s really not that exciting," she assures me, but I doubt that. Something like this is huge.

“Try me,” I push.

"I woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Zane and I had been fighting that night, but I didn’t think anything of it until I woke up to a noise.” Her head turns to the side, looking directly at me. “I went looking for him, thinking he was still up. I didn’t think it could be anyone else. It was the smoke that hit me first. The smell was almost choking me.” She takes a deep breath still looking at me. The silence in the room is eerie: me waiting patiently for her to speak and her trying to gather strength to continue. “When I made it down the hall, I couldn't even comprehend that half of my house was burning in front of me. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do or where Zane was. It all just happened so quickly; there was an explosion, and when I tried to get out, the door was stuck and the smoke was too thick.” She stops for a moment, letting the details wash over me. Reaching down, I entwine my fingers with hers. She seems so detached, like she is reading from a script, but I know reliving it wouldn't be easy.

“I woke in the hospital the next day after having the first surgery. The police told me the fire was started with two Molotov cocktails through the windows. Zane was nowhere to be found and I was severely burnt to ten percent of my body.”

Fuck me.

“They told me my skin was too damaged; that it wouldn’t be able to regenerate on its own, so the first surgery I went through was to protect the most damaged parts before they could graft it.” She shows me the smoothest part of the burn. The pale skin is taut, not red and raised like the rest. You think that would be the least burnt area.

“Fuck, Kadence,” I say, trying to get my head around it.

“Yeah it was a lot to take in. The second surgery was a grafting; they took skin from my backside and I really wasn’t prepared for the pain of that.” A shudder runs through her as she relives the pain.

“After three weeks, fluid built up underneath the donor skin, preventing it from attaching to the wound. It failed, so they had to re-graft more skin. That time they grafted from inside my thigh. I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed,” she says, pointing to the slightly different patch of skin. Leaning forward I scan the area. I must admit I haven’t noticed it. My eyes have always been on the prize between her thighs. I had seen the faint area on her ass, but she never acted like it bothered her, so I never commented.

“I stayed in the hospital for three weeks after that one. I wasn’t healthy enough to be able to go home. I gave up, mentally and physically. Looking back, I can see the weakness, but laying in the hospital, I didn’t see it as survival, only how much I had lost.”

“You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met,” I interrupt, not sure if she understands the honesty of my words. She shakes her head in disagreement, a blaze of indignation burning furiously in her eyes.

“I was so worked up over losing my home and Zane, angry that it was all taken away from me. I didn’t want to think about how lucky I was or how strong I was. People around me in that burn unit were dying, fighting for their lives, and I was complaining about this small section of my body. I was selfish and had no idea about being strong until I met Jesse.”

She turns her body to mine, lifting her leg over mine. “That's how I met Jesse. He was the one to show me what it truly meant to survive. I was feeling sorry for myself and he helped pull me from the darkness,” she admits and it all comes together why Jesse is so protective of her. Even though I hate Jesse had that with her, I know she needed him at that time in her life.

“You survived it Kadence and you’re stronger for it,” I tell her. Hearing her story, knowing what she went through burns something inside of me, something I haven’t felt in a long time.

“I know, but it’s a struggle sometimes. Opening myself up to you is scary, Nix. My insecurities leave me feeling so unworthy. I’ve never let anyone in.” Her voice is quiet with the truth.

“I get that. Believe me I do, but hiding your body from me is something you don’t need to do. I swear it. I look at you and I don’t see what you think. I see you, Kadence, the woman who survived that, and if that doesn’t make me want to know more about you, I don’t know what does.”

She shakes her head, still not getting it. “Don’t tell me that if you could choose between a woman with no scars and me, you would choose this.” She points to her burns.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Kadence? Believe me, there is no one I would choose over you,” I tell her, hoping she can hear the honesty in my words. Fuck, this woman is dangerous to me.

“If you say so, Nix.” She rolls her eyes, not trusting a word of it.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I ask, concerned she doesn’t.

“Nix,” she says, trying to move her leg off me, but I stop her, holding her to me.

“No, answer me.”

“I’m not ugly,” she laughs, but nothing about this conversation is funny.

“Do you know the moment I laid my eyes on you, I felt the wind knock out of me, like someone just gut-punched me. I was pissed that Addison threw the meetin’ on me, concerned for Z, and I walked in, and fuck me, I nearly fuckin’ fell over. I couldn’t even look you in the eye at first. I had to calm myself down, or who knows what I would have said. Then you threw your attitude and set me on fire.”

“Yeah, when I was fully clothed.” She shakes her head still not getting it.

“Then a week later, you stood in front of me baring this.” I touch her burns again. “Not once did I think any differently. If anything at all, it made sense. You feelin’ unworthy is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard. If anythin’, it’s me who is unworthy. You stood there vulnerable, and fuck if that wasn’t beautiful. As much as you hate your scars, I love them, ‘cause they make you, you. The person who stood in front of me, and for the first time ever, let me in. Me. If anyone is unworthy of that, it’s me baby,” I give it to her, letting her see the truth in my words. The first teardrops fall, and for a second, I think I’ve fucked up.

“Don’t cry.” I wipe at her face. Fuck, I have no idea how to deal with tears.

“No one has ever said anything so nice to me before,” she hiccups.

“What, no one?” I ask in disbelief.

“I was going to marry a man who never once said anything as sweet as that.”

“Babe, Zane is all kinds of asshole, I can believe that, but the shit he’s put you in is beyond asshole. He’s a fuckin’ fool for not treasurin’ you. I don’t ever want you to meet with him again,” I tell her, adding that in, hoping she listens. I couldn’t handle her getting hurt once again at his hands.

“Trust me, Nix, I never want to see him again.” She wipes at her face, the tears no longer falling.

"I think it was a setup, him comin' back in town," I say, treading carefully. I don't want to scare her but she needs to know.

"I'll be careful," she promises.

“Good, and next time I see him, he and I are gonna have serious words.”

“Nix, don’t go and do something stupid. It’s not worth it. He's not worth it,” she pleads, her sad eyes now gone and replaced with concern.

“Oh, it will be worth it, Kadence.” I don’t tell her that I’ve already got the boys looking for him. That asshole is going down. She rolls her eyes at me, another thing I have missed all week. Rolling her back over, I cover her body with mine. The urgency to have her again, to worship her body, and prove to her just how beautiful she is, scars and all, pulls at me. This woman consumes me, and it’s time to show her just how much.

NIX: Got held up meet me at the club.

I send the text to Kadence once I realize how late it is. We were meant to be staying in for the night, but after another fuck around with one of T’s shipments, he called a meeting to keep us up to date with their new plan regarding Gunner. The sooner they sort this shit out, the better.

KADENCE: Okay. Be there in ten.

It will be the third time she’s been here, and each time she gets more comfortable. If only I could get her to agree to come clean to Z. I’m sick of hiding this from him. Even though it’s only been three weeks since that night she opened up to me, I feel like we’re slowly getting somewhere.

“What the fuck you smiling about?” Beau asks, kicking at my foot resting out in front of me.

“Not what, who,” Jesse smiles across from him. Beau looks concerned for a moment before hiding it.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, noticing he is the only one who hasn’t taken to her.

“Don’t like that she’s got ties to Gunner,” he shrugs

“Fuck off. You had a problem with her before that.”

“He’s just pissed she got out under his nose.” Brooks laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

“Fuck you.” He stands and goes to leave.

“Sit the fuck down, you pussy,” I tell him. Ignoring the fact that Brooks is right, Beau has some serious trust issues.

“She knows what we’re about, brother,” I tell him, knowing it will take more than words to get him to trust her. It’s just gonna take time. He nods, knowing what I’m saying. I trust Beau more than anything, and he’s only looking out for me.

“You staying for the party?” Jesse wiggles his eyebrows up and down. The fucker is crazy. He’s already got a blonde bitch on his knee, no doubt he will have another soon.

“Love to see Kadence’s face when she sees one of those parties,” Beau laughs.

“Fuck off. She’ll deal,” I defend her.

“Deal with what?” she asks, walking in wearing her hot teacher get up.

“Especially wearing her uppity clothes,” Beau keeps going. Her eyes narrow to him, but she doesn’t bite. She knows she pissed him off that day she snuck out.

“Hey, baby.” I pull her down on my lap when she gets close enough.

“Hey,” she sighs, not caring we’re in front of all the guys in the middle of the clubhouse. Yeah, my woman fits right in.

“Hey, guys.” She pulls back and turns her body to face the table.

“How was work?” I ask when they get through their hellos.

“Meh, work is work. Glad the week is over.” She goes to stand from my lap, but I hold her in place.

“Want a drink?”

“Are we staying?”

“Was gonna have a few with the boys,” I tell her, waiting to see what she’s gonna do. She needs to get used to the clubhouse lifestyle.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll have a beer,” she smiles, pushing up from my lap.

“Hunter, get my woman a beer,” I yell over to the bar, taking my hands to her waist, and planting her back where she was.

“If I knew you were going to yell at him, I would have gotten up to get it myself,” she whispers so the others don’t hear.

“That’s his job, baby. He likes gettin’ me beers,” I tell her, smiling, but she just shakes her head.

“You ready to see yourself a real Knights Rebels’ party?” Jesse asks her a few minutes later.

“I’m sure it’s not that crazy, Jesse.” She rolls her eyes, not understanding just how serious these boys like to party

I laugh on the inside; the woman has no idea.

21

KADENCE

HOLY SHIT.

That’s the only thought I have lying in Nix’s bed at the clubhouse the next morning. Jesse was right. The Knights Rebels sure know how to party. My head throbs as I try to roll out from under Nix.

“Don’t move,” he groans into his pillow.

“Need bathroom,” I say, beginning to sound like Nix. I need the bathroom and I need it now. He rolls to the side releasing me from his body. I barely make it to the toilet to bring up who knows what. Fuck. I drank way too much. After Jesse explained just how much the Knights Rebels like to party, I decided I need a few drinks if I was about to witness something like that.

“Fuck, baby, you sick?” Nix asks from behind me, his voice still full of sleep.

“Go, Nix. You don’t want to see it let alone smell it,” I moan, my head still in the bowl. He ignores me of course and pulls my hair back as I empty my stomach into the bowl.

“Oh, God,” I moan as he places a cool washcloth over my forehead.

“You feelin’ better?” he asks after a few minutes of reprieve.

“Yeah, I think I got it all up,” I say, standing to wash the funk out of my mouth.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” he says, walking away. The thought of eating after what I just threw up makes me dry heave, but I don’t argue. I already know he won’t listen. Cleaning up and making myself presentable, I make my way to the kitchen.

“Kadence,” Jesse booms from the table as I walk straight to the coffee machine.

“Shhhh,” I whisper, turning away from him. I don't know how in the hell Jesse can even be up and about this morning after the things I witnessed last night, let alone be in a happy mood. He laughs louder, seeing how I pulled up from last night.

“Fuck, girl, you sure know how to party with some of the big guys,” he laughs into his coffee cup.

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in,” Sy smirks from the door. “Didn’t think we would see you this morning,” he says as he makes his way to get his morning coffee.

“Ease up, guys. It was my first clubhouse party,” I whine into my coffee.

“Here, baby,” Nix says, passing me a piece of dry toast. “Eat,” he demands, pointing to the spot next to Jesse.

“Gah,” I grumble, sitting down next to a smiling Jesse.

“You did good,” Jesse nods. I don’t know how he thinks I did good. I got drunk off my ass and now I’m paying for it.

“He’s right. You did do good. Told all those bitches who was boss,” Nix laughs and I drop my head to the table.

“Can we not talk about it?” I ask, hoping they’ll drop it.

“Hell, no, that shit was funny,” Brooks says as he walks in to the kitchen. “I knew you had it in you,” he winks, walking past me.

“You were so hot, going all possessive over me,” Nix whispers into my ear.

“Is it really like that at every party?” I ask, hoping it’s not. I don’t know if I could handle knowing these skanks are trying to get into my man’s pants. They all laugh, not answering my question.

“Don’t worry. You made it known not to fuck with you,” Nix says, putting me at ease.

“Though she hasn’t met Chrissie yet,” Brooks adds.

“Oh, yeah,” Jesse laughs, making me worry more.

“Who the fuck is Chrissie?”

“Forget her,” Nix says, putting me at ease. “The bitch will hear how you laid Tina out.” At the mention of Tina’s name, the boys all start laughing. I feel kind of bad that I did that, but I was sitting right there and the woman just rubbed her tits along his arm. Hell the fuck no. I don’t know what came over me. Okay, that’s a lie. I know what came over me; my temper getting the best of me. Once Nix told her to fuck off, she still didn’t listen so I had to do something to get her to listen. I wasn’t expecting to have to pull her off him. I’m mortified while the guys think it’s epic. Great, now I’ll never live this one down.

“Next time I see her, I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”

“Like fuck you will,” Nix warns. “The bitch had it coming. Forget it, Kadence. She’ll now know not to fuck with you. You wanna survive in the club against women like her, they need to know you won’t back down.” All the boys nod, agreeing with him.

“Okay,” I say, taking a bite of my toast. I didn’t really wanna say sorry anyway.

“Eat up, baby. We’re going for a ride,” he says, watching me slowly eat my breakfast.

“Where?” I ask, not sure I can handle a ride today. I need a bed, a bucket, and some Tylenol.

“It’s a surprise,” he says, not telling me.

“I hate surprises,” I say, swallowing a large bite of toast.

“You’ll like this one.”

“Dinner at your place tonight, Prez,” Jesse says, standing from the table.

“I’ll bring the beer,” Brooks says, also standing.

“I’ll get the steaks,” Beau adds, walking in and joining our conversation.

“I’ll bring myself,” Jesse laughs.

“Make sure you have a fucking shower before you turn up,” Sy says, standing next to him. “You fucking stink like sex and pussy,” he says, shaking his head. The thought of Jesse smelling like that has me standing from the chair and racing to the bathroom to throw up the half-piece of toast I just consumed, leaving the guys laughing their asses off. Assholes.

THE SUNLIT CLOUDS drift across the blue Nevada sky. Commanding my eyes to stay open, I take in the sight of them. Fresh air fills my lungs with every sharp breath I take. My heart beats furiously out of my chest at the thrill of what we’re doing. The chance that we could get caught in the middle of the day heightens the level of adrenaline coursing through me. He’s building me with every swipe of his finger and every flick of his tongue. I force myself to stay quiet, biting down on my arm as the desire to cry out becomes too much.

“Don’t hold it in, Kadence,” Nix growls from between my legs, his grumbles vibrating my pussy.

“Nix,” I pant, wanting to explode, but the thought of getting caught holds me back.

“Babe, you either come on my mouth, or you come on my cock. Either way you’re comin’,” he dictates before dragging his rough tongue through my soft flesh again.

Shit.

His finger enters me again, finding the place he knows will take me over. A blistering heat swells from my core, slowly gathering momentum as he works my clit and massages my G-spot. The yearning to censor myself long forgotten as the wave of encompassing pleasure spreads through me. I thrash my head, back and forth. My thighs squeeze shut, locking his head between my legs. His strong hands go to my knees pushing them apart as he continues to assault my most sensitive place.

“Nix,” I cry out as the heat sears over my whole body; the most marvelous sensation prickles at my skin as my body begs for it never to end. Seized by a rush of awareness so intense, I scream out with unabashed abandon.

Nix slows his talented tongue as the wave subsides, the last of my orgasm rolling through me. My hangover long forgotten, I marvel in the aftermath of my orgasm.

Oh, God, did I just let him do that in a public place?

Sitting up from the picnic blanket, I push down my skirt and watch Nix lick his fingers clean. He looks so freaking delicious kneeling in front of me with his chin covered in my arousal and his eyes shining with a devilish glint.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I love it when you go off like that,” he states, coming back up to me and capturing my mouth with desperate urgency. The taste of myself mixed in with his taste, unfortunately, turns me on more. Jesus, I need him again.

My hands come around his neck; falling back down to the blanket, I pull him with me. His weight crashes to me. The hard pulse of his arousal in his pants rubs against the inside of my leg.

“Want me to take care of you?” I ask, smiling against his lips.

“Oh, baby, you’ve got no idea what I have in store for you.” He smiles wickedly before moving back up to his knees and hiking my skirt back up to expose my bareness. He took my panties off when we sat down for our picnic, pocketing them and told me I was not getting them back. Typical Nix.

“You’re gonna get up and you're gonna turn around and show me that sexy ass of yours.” He says it so calmly like we’re in the privacy of our bedroom and not out in the open

“No, Nix, someone will see us,” I flat out refuse. We’ve already done way too much today, and we're lucky we haven’t been caught yet. I look around seeing if anyone has stumbled upon our little hiding place.

Last night, when I was drunk off my face, I made a comment about public sex. Somehow, Nix thought fulfilling that one thing I’d yet to do would go to the top of his list. I wasn’t too keen to try, but after him convincing me, or should I say just taking me, I now know that it is indeed very hot.

It’s been three weeks since I opened up about the fire, letting him in to understand my whole ordeal. I knew for us to move forward, I had to let him in, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. I don’t know if we’re moving too fast, but we’ve spent every night together at his house, in his bed and even a few nights at the club. Even the nights he had Z, he wanted me there, me only agreeing if I snuck in after Z went to bed and leaving before he woke. Every night, he proves to me just how much he thinks I’m beautiful, how much he craves me, and every night I feel like I’m giving him a little more of myself.

His eyes find mine, anchoring me to my spot on the picnic blanket he brought along for our impromptu picnic, Nix told me we were going for a ride. He didn’t tell me we would be stopping for a public sex session.

“Yes, Kadence,” he argues, reaching down to release his erection from his jeans.

“Geez put it away, Nix.” I look around again, making sure we're still alone.

“The only place I’m gonna put this,” he stops to look down at his hand stroking his rigid shaft, “is in that tight pussy of yours.”

“You’re such a romantic,” I accuse, but the action he’s doing draws me in, mesmerizing me.

“You want romance, baby? You want roses and sweet nothings whispered to you as I worship your body gently?” The smoothness of his words caresses me. The image of him fisting himself still captures me.

“Well, it would be nice,” I lie, knowing I love his dirty mouth. No other man has been able to get me ready with one sentence.

“Fuck that. I’m hard and fast and I’m anythin’ but fuckin’ gentle. Now get on your knees and point that sexy ass in my face.”

“Do you even have a condom, Nix?” I ask, looking up from his cock.

“Don’t need one,” he states.

“Is that right?” I cock my brow at him, just waiting to hear this one. We’ve always used a condom, and as much as I want to say yes, we haven’t had the talk about it.

“I’m clean, babe, and I’ve seen those pills you take. Today, I fuck you bare,” he answers my worries, while still bossing me.

“Do I even get a say? Geez, Nix, could you get any more caveman? Me fuck you bare, woman.” I roll my eyes at him.

“I fuckin’ love it when you’re a smartass, makes me wanna fuck you harder.” He smiles, still stroking himself. Fuck, why does that turn me on.

“Why don’t you ask instead of demanding me all the time?”

“Hmm, that’s not fun, but let me try,” he smirks, leaning in and kissing my parted lips.

“Kadence, I’m gonna take you raw. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and you’ll scream so loud, you’ll be lettin’ the fuckin’ birds know how much you love my cock, and then you're gonna sit here with my cum leaking down your legs while we eat lunch, okay?” he says it so calm, like the thought of it is perfectly normal.

The corners of my lips start to lift and I try to hold in my laughter.

“Nix, that was worse.”

“What? I thought that was good. I like that idea.” He acts like he’s offended. “Okay, how about, babe, please let me sink my thick cock into your tight pussy and feel your snug heat like I haven’t before. I want to feel you tighten around me for the first time with no barrier, Kadence. Then when I finish, I want to watch my cum spill from your cunt while I eat my lunch.”

“NIX,” I yell, “don’t say that word. It's gross.”

“Nothing gross about it, babe,” he smiles, kissing me again. His tongue seductively reclaims my mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you bare?” he asks against my lips. This time the question is tender and intimate, all teasing aside.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You’ll always have a choice, Kadence. I’ll just let you know when you make the wrong one.” His eyes sparkle with mischief and I give in to his dirty yet sweet words. Wrapping my legs around him, I feel the warmness of his cock at my center. I embrace his smoothness as he tenderly enters me. The connection of our bodies on a deeper level suspends me for a moment, the touch of his skin, the warmth of his body all brings me apart.

Does it frighten me that we seem to be getting in so deep with each other? Yes, but I can’t fight it. We can’t get enough of one another, the attraction heightened by every moment we spend with each other. I’ve known this man for seven weeks, and every day he tears at my perfectly constructed armor. To say I’m not feeling anything for him would be a lie.

“Kadence?” he whispers as our bodies move together, his rhythm intense with each slow, deliberate thrust.

“Yeah?” I answer as I feel myself begin the climb. The heat that gathers from the base of my spine rapidly builds momentum.

“You ruin me, woman,” he breathes, before taking my mouth in his. I want to tell him he ruins me too, more than I care to admit, but right now, it’s like the warmth he’s filling me with is enough. It’s building quietly inside of me waiting to devastate me.

Closing my eyes, I let the sweet depth of his movements take over me, knowing more than anything that this man has the power to devastate me. I’m just not sure I’m ready to admit that to him, let alone myself.

“KADENCE, how the fuck did Nix score you?” Jesse asks later that night sitting on Nix’s back deck. I take a sip of my drink and shrug. More like how the hell did I score him.

I knew the boys were coming over for dinner, but after my day of fighting a horrendous hangover and our little rendezvous in the park today, I wanted to eat in and just be with each other.

“What about you, Brooks? How did you end up with Kelly?” I ask, taking the pressure off me.

“It was love at first sight.” He smiles back at me. You can see the man is smitten with his wife. Over the last few hours, I’ve come to learn Brooks is the oldest of the bunch. He was a prospect when Nix was still in high school. I wonder if the shit he’s lived under Red Knight influenced him in staying on when Nix stepped up. Last night, he introduced me to everyone in the club, from the main set of guys who help run the businesses, to the weekenders, the men who come in and hang out over the weekend. I really did have a good time. The club, the people, all made me feel welcome.

“Kelly and Addison used to be best friends,” he explains, and I don’t miss the past tense reference. It still rubs me the wrong way hearing her name. I know she’s Nix’s ex and Z’s mother, but ever since that afternoon in my classroom, I don’t know what it is, but something about her doesn’t sit right with me.

Nix and I have avoided talking about her. I feel like it’s one of those conversations I’ll never be ready for.

“She walked in one day with Addison and I fell in love,” he continues.

“Just like that?” I question, trying to hold back my disbelief. I am a strong believer that a person can’t fall in love in an instant. People fall in lust, often confusing it for love. That desire makes your heart beat faster, your palms sweat all the while leaving that overwhelming urge to want to be with them. All those things are important when finding the one, but until you fall in lust with those intense feelings, only then can love grow.

“Just like that,” he repeats. I nod my head, not about to get into it with him. The man believes he fell in love at first sight; who am I to tell him that it’s impossible.

Nix catches my eye from across the decking; he’s been in deep conversation with Beau for the last five minutes. Beau’s still holding onto his annoyance that I outmaneuvered him back at the clubhouse a couple of weeks ago. He’s barely said a few words to me, and I’m beginning to worry he might not like me.

“You lookin’ after my woman, Brooks?” Nix questions from across the table.

“You bet ya,” he calls back, tipping the neck of his beer his way.

“Keep her away from that asshole,” he jokes, pointing to Jesse. I laugh aloud and Jesse fakes a pout. The guy is a massive flirt, no wonder Nix doesn’t trust him. Hell, I don’t know how I feel about the traitor, ratting me out to Nix. I level my gaze at him, realizing I never called him on his play last week.

“What?’ he asks, seeing my frown.

“I just remembered I’m angry at you.”

“For what?”

“For ratting me out to Nix, that night at Liquid.” I don’t tell him I think of that night only for the unbelievable make-up sex and the night Nix made me feel beautiful.

“Oh, please, he already knew you were there. He had eyes on you all week.” He laughs and I immediately recognize what a fool I am. I honestly thought he would have just let me be for a week. Of course, Nix had his boys follow me. I turn, looking at him, and the man just shrugs. Shrugs.

“Babe, I’ve had a man on you every second you’ve been out of my sight,” he admits, looking smug.

“You what!” I come to stand. I can’t believe I never noticed. How did I never notice?

“It’s for your own protection, Kadence,” he explains without explaining.

“It’s a bit much,” I argue, sitting back down, feeling awkward in front of the guys. I can go head to head with Nix, but having an audience of all the boys is a bit too much for me.

“Your dipshit ex is still sniffing around. Until we find him and make it clear that you're off limits, you’ve got a tail,” he explains coming to pull a chair up at the table.

“I can take care of myself, Nix. Zane won't bother me again.”

"Kadence, he will. Trust me. It's best this way."

"But I’m sure the guys have better things to do, right?” I ask, looking at Jesse, trying to get Nix to see.

“Not me. I love it when you and Holly go shopping, especially in Victoria's Secret.” He bounces his brows at me.

“Jesse,” I gripe, listening to Sy and Nix growl. “Did you just growl like a dog?” I ask Sy, trying not to laugh remembering Holly’s reference to him barking. He narrows his eyes, his lips tightly sealed.

I look to Brooks, hoping I have an ally in him. “That coffee shop you go to in the morning is my favorite.” The bastard winks. Rolling my eyes, I turn to Sy; he looks at me as if the question is stupid. Of course, he hates it.

“He doesn’t count. The fucker is a cranky asshole,” Nix replies before I can use him as an example.

“Fine,” I huff out defeated, “Beau?” I ask, not hopeful with him still being pissed. Last night he didn’t warm up to me.

“I’ll let ya know next week, Kadence, when I’m on duty,” he smirks, and I finally give up.

“Nix,” I plead, hoping I can at least get him to ease up a little. Shopping? Come on.

“It’s for your own protection. It's that or lock you down.” My body freezes for a second at the thought of lockdown. Yuck. No way.

“Didn’t think so,” he adds, seeing my disdain for lockdown. “As soon as we find the asshole, we’ll ease up. Until then enjoy your entourage.” He smiles his smug-ass smile.

What a nightmare.

“DO you believe in love at first sight?” I ask later that night, not even realizing how that could sound until it’s out of my mouth. After thinking over what Brooks told me earlier in the night, I wanted to know what Nix thought.

“I think anything is possible,” Nix responds behind me, reaching around to cup my breasts under the bath water.

“Well, that settles that then,” I reply. My smartass tone not lost on him.

“Watch it, Kadence.” He pinches my nipple in warning.

“Well?” I push, wanting to know.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone but my mom, dad and Z,” he admits.

“Didn’t you love Addison?” I ask, and cringe as soon as the question leaves my mouth.

“I thought I did. I tried hard to, but I soon learnt it’s not meant to be hard. You either love them or don’t. There ain't no learnin'.” I nod, agreeing with that statement.

“But you asked her to marry you. You must have had feelings for her.”

“Didn’t ask her. We just did it when we found out she was pregnant with Z. Lookin’ back, I know that wasn’t the right thing to do, but I wanted somethin’ better for my son. I wanted him to have a mom and dad.”

I nod, understanding his reasons. I can see where he was coming from, but I don't agree.

“What about you?” he questions, throwing it back at me.

“No, I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

“Are you sure, Kadence? I was there when you first met me.” He laughs, and I elbow him in the stomach.

“Ha ha. No, I think people fall in love with the idea of it, but lust is what you fall into, and love can only grow from that,” I answer honestly. Do I think I can fall in love with Nix? Yes, but right now what we have isn’t love, because honestly, can someone love another after a short time? For me, this feeling was like the beginning of an intense journey. A spark ignites with every kiss and every touch, his words fueling the flame further. I can see myself catching fire, burning incandescently for him.

“Are you in lust with me, Kadence?” he teases, pinching my nipple again.

“I’m in something with you,” I retort. Oh, God, did I just admit to that?

“Did you love your asshole ex?” he asks, ignoring my slip, bringing the washer over my stomach.

“I did. I gave everything to him, but even then it wasn’t enough,” I confess, feeling like a fool, and I hate myself for it. I loved him more than anything. I was the idiot who loved someone more than they loved me.

“As much as I don’t wanna talk about that fucker while I’m layin’ naked in the bath with you, I just have to say, I’m glad it wasn’t enough. ‘Cause if it had been, you’d never have given me a chance.” He kisses my temple.

“So what you’re saying, Nix, is that you’re glad I’m not good enough?” I laugh, teasing him.

“Kadence, if you only ever give me what you’ve given me so far, it will be more than enough.” I lean back and twist my head to look up at him.

“Are you sure, Nix? You strike me as the type as all or nothing.”

“Oh, baby, I am, but I’m also the type to know when he’s got a good thing, and you, Kadence, are a good thing.” He leans down, our lips finding each other.

I want to relish in the feeling of now, of in this moment, knowing it’s something I’ll want to remember. That pivotal point when you know the man you're giving your body to just took a little of your heart.

Lust my ass, my heart sings.

22

NIX

I STIR at the smell of cooked bacon coming up from the kitchen. I don’t even need to open my eyes to know she isn’t in bed. Looking over at the clock, I see it’s half past nine. I groan in frustration that once again I haven’t woken up with Kadence naked in my bed; she keeps disappearing on me. Rolling out of bed, I grab my boxers and make my way downstairs. I need to have a word with my woman telling her a few house rules. Number one rule: no leaving the goddamn bed before I wake up.

She’s standing at the stove, my T-shirt hanging low on her thighs, her bare feet looking fucking amazing in my kitchen. What is it about her feet in my house? Walking up behind her, I push the loose strand off her neck and plant a kiss on her soft vanilla skin.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning.” She turns around to face me. Her smile nearly knocks me on my ass.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I tell her, and I’ve never spoken more truth before. A slight pink blush floats across her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. The woman just doesn’t see what I see. It’s been two months since I walked into her classroom, and she looks more and more beautiful to me every time I see her.

“Gotta tell ya, babe, as much as I like seeing you barefoot in my kitchen, I’d much prefer to have your naked body layin’ next to me when I open my eyes for the day.”

“You’ve got to eat, Nix.”

“I was gonna eat you,” I confess, leaning in and brushing my lips against hers. She rolls her eyes and smacks my chest, a move she seems to have perfected, and it seems I’ve grown to like it, a lot.

“Don’t be vulgar,” she responds, and it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“How many times do I have to prove to you that you love my dirty mouth?” Leaning down I kiss the softness of her lips, I can’t seem to get enough of her mouth. “And you love my dirty mouth on that pretty pussy of yours,” I tell her and kiss her again, stopping her from arguing with me. “Come back to bed,” I plead. She melts into me, but the smell of burning bacon brings her back.

“Shit,” she shrieks, turning around, trying to save our breakfast. See, eating her would be much easier.

“What’s your plans for today?” I ask, walking over to the coffee pot, frustrated that I’m not getting her back to bed.

“I don’t know. At some stage I’m going to have to go home. I have to work tomorrow.” I’m happy she doesn’t blow me off, wanting to rush home. The last two months have been fucking amazing, but we’ve been going at a slow pace. I want more. I want her in my club, by my side. No more hiding. I understand we need to tread lightly with school, but my patience is wearing thin.

“We’re havin’ a club BBQ this afternoon, a family affair. I want you there,” I tell her, watching her closely for a freak-out. She looks up at me, not showing any tells to what she is thinking, so I continue. “Z’s gonna be there. It's my four days startin’ today. You okay with that?” I push, hoping she doesn't argue and we can just go about our day. We have a date in bed, my mouth buried in her pussy.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she challenges, turning away to break an egg into the pan.

“Why not? You know what I want, Kadence. I’m not in the habit of fuckin’ around. If you’re with me, then you’re with me. I’m not sneaking around at night anymore. I want you in my club, around my people. I’m done hidin’ us from Z.” I lay it out for her. I’m thirty-seven years old. Three years ago, no way would I be saying this, but Kadence is different, and I’m a man who knows what he wants, and by God, I want this woman. This perfectly scarred woman, who pushes my buttons and argues over every damn thing, I wouldn't want her any other way.

“You with me on this? I ask her again, watching her break a second egg.

“Can I bring Holly?” she asks, still avoiding my question.

“Jesus Christ, Kadence,” I growl, walking up to her, and turning her around to face me. “Tell me you’re with me on this.”

“Do you think this is moving too fast, Nix?”

“Fuck no! You know me, Kadence. I don’t mess around. I had you in my bed after one date. I like to move fast,” I claim. She knows this and, besides, two fucking months is not fast. She’s fucking lucky I’ve waited this long.

“And what happens when you’ve had your fill? Don’t you think Z will be confused?” She turns back around to remove the eggs off the heat, saving them from burning like the bacon. What the fuck? Is this what she thinks I’m doing, just getting my fill?

“Jesus, woman, don’t you get it? How can someone so beautiful and smart as you, be so clueless? Every time we’re together, I feel it more. Stop fightin’ it and start embracin’ it. You know this shit deep down and I know I’m never gettin’ my fill of you, ever.” I pull her to me, away from the stove, and then turn her and walk her back to the counter. “If you don’t tell me you’re with me, I'll take you right here and now until you agree.”

“You can’t just fuck me into submission, Nix.” My hands come to her waist turning her around to face the counter. I don’t even respond to her statement. I will fuck her into a yes.

“Keep your hands on the bench and don’t move them,” I demand, my voice taking on the deeper menacing tone she seems to like. Ripping her lace panties down her legs I watch as she nods her head, her legs slightly spreading, letting me know she wants this.

I move my hands under the hem of her shirt, sliding them higher to cup her breasts. Her nipples pebble under my fingers, her arousal my main mission.

“Tell me you like it when I fuck you into submission, Kadence,” I demand, squeezing her pert nipples hard between my thumb and finger. She nods in agreement, but I want words. Dragging my hand down her body, I run it along her raised scar and feel her tense under my touch. I ignore it, not giving her a chance to freak out. She’ll soon realize that when I tell her I find every inch of her beautiful, I mean it. I drag my finger along her wetness between her legs, asking the question again, “Gonna need words. Tell me you love it, Kadence.”

“I love it, Nix.” My name's delivered breathlessly, just how I like it. My dick jumps at the sound.

“Good girl, now you want my cock or my mouth?” My fingers find their way into her, pumping her slowly.

“Cock,” she pants as my fingers work her harder, pumping my frustration at every obstacle she puts up for me.

“You comin’ to the BBQ today, Kadence?” I ask her, using my free hand to pull my boxers down my legs. My erection springs free, throbbing and waiting to slide into her heat. Wrapping my fist around it, I give it a few tugs, relieving the tension building in me. She’s panting, meeting each of my finger thrusts.

“Yes! God, yes, Nix. Just fuck me.”

“Good girl.” I place my lips to her shoulder, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin. “Now you know what I told you about that pretty mouth and what the word fuck coming out of it does to me.” I remove my fingers, trailing them along her smooth skin back up to her nipples while lining up my neglected cock to the heat of her pussy. I’m so glad she agreed to let me take her bare. The feeling of her snugness is like no other.

“You ready?” I ask her, my hands shaking in anticipation. She pushes back, her tightness gripping my hard length.

“Fuckin’ impatient little thing, aren't you?”

“Quit fucking talking and fuck me, Nix,” she grumbles

Jesus, her dirty mouth is the biggest turn on.

“Oh, Kadence,” I grunt out with each hard thrust. “I’m gonna fuck your greedy pussy all right,” I say, bringing my hands to her hips, my fingers digging in, ready to show her just how hard I can fuck her.

PULLING up to my old house that Addison and I once shared, I always get a sense of dread that I’m about to walk into one of her setups. Normally, it’s either her forgetting she’s still in her nightgown or asking me to fix something around the house, trying to get me to spend time with her. I have no clue why she pines over me when we haven’t been with each other in years. That ship sailed a long time ago.

Z races out, his backpack slung over his shoulder. Opening the back door, he throws his bag in and then slams it shut.

“Bye, sweetie,” Addison calls out from the front door. He ignores her, climbing up into the front seat.

“Hey, bud, how you doin?” I ask, looking over at him.

“Hey, Dad,” he smiles, looking like he’s excited to be coming with me today.

Pulling out, I notice Addison still standing there in her nightgown at one pm. “Your mom sleep in today?” I ask, pulling out of the driveway without acknowledging her.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking down at his iPod. After a few minutes of driving in silence, I decide I’m gonna come right out and tell him about Kadence.

“So, bud, I wanted to talk about something that’s important. You think you’re up for that?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, looking up from the game he's playing

“Well, I guess there’s no other way to say it other than, I’ve been seein' someone,” I say, waiting for a response. I’m not sure what sort of response, but I’m expecting something.

“So you’re not getting back with Mom?” he asks a little too excitedly. Okay, not what I was expecting.

“No, bud, why would you think that?” I ask, wondering what shit Addison has fed him.

“Mom said you guys were getting back together.” He looks at me confused.

“Shit, Z, I’m sorry, bud, but we’re not,” I tell him truthfully. Fucking Addison is spinning her shit again.

“Good,” he states.

“Good? You okay with that?” It’s now my turn to look confused; the kid is confusing me now.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m okay with it.” A smile breaks out over his face.

“Okay, so if you're cool with that, I hope you’re cool with who it is then,” I say, testing the waters.

“Do I know her?”

“Yeah, bud, you do. Miss Turner and I have been seeing each other for a little while now,” I let him know, watching him closely.

“Cool.” His excited voice bounces off the windshield.

“You okay with that too?”

“Hell yeah, that’s wicked, Dad.” He smiles over at me.

Well shit, there you go.

“She’s coming to the BBQ today. I want you on your best behavior, okay, bud?” I ask, knowing he’ll be good; he always is when he’s at the clubhouse.

“What do I call her?” he asks, already thinking ahead.

“Let's just start off as Miss Turner, and we’ll let her lead us as to how we’re gonna handle it. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Dad,” he beams up at me. “Is she gonna be my new mom?” His enthusiasm is flowing out.

“Jesus, Z, calm down,” I laugh. “You already got a mom to start with, and Kadence and I are a long way off from that. Let's just see how it goes, yeah?”

“Okay, Dad,” he sulks. The fella is getting way ahead of himself. I hope he calms a little and doesn’t scare her off. It was hard enough getting Kadence to the clubhouse today. I’d hate to think what she’d do if she heard Z start talking about that.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I really like Miss Turner. She's funny and pretty.” I smile over at him, agreeing with him. “And when you are ready, can she be my mom?” The question throws me a little, not the part about me being ready, ‘cause I can see myself getting there. It's the prickly feeling I’m getting that he wants a new mom.

Pulling up to the clubhouse, I file it away for when we have some one-on-one time. Something is not sitting right with me.

“Let’s just get through the BBQ today, and then we’ll talk. Okay, Z?”

“Okay, Dad.” He nods and opens his door excited for our afternoon. I’m prepared for this; ready for Kadence to be more a part of my life, a part of club life. I just hope today doesn’t push us back.

23

KADENCE

WE PULL up to the compound just before four p.m. After Nix had his way with me on the kitchen counter, proving how hard he could fuck me, we had breakfast and then spent the rest of the morning in his bed. After he had fed me lunch, he brought me home in his big-ass truck. I missed the bike, but I knew he was on his way to pick up Z so I didn’t complain. Holly was home, but that didn’t stop him from kissing me senseless, before leaving me to go pick up Z and get ready for the club BBQ.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. I’ve said all along, I’m not sure where this thing between us was going, but the turning point for me was the night I told him about my burns. I never considered that letting him in and revealing that part of me could bring us closer together, but it has. I feel like we are at a new phase in our relationship, but I also feel like I’m in way over my head. When it’s just Nix and me, I feel comfortable, happy and content, but taking it further, letting Z see this part of us, freaks me out. How do I act? What if he hates this?

“So is Sy going to be here?” Holly asks, pulling me out of thoughts of Z having a massive fit about us.

“I’m sure he will be, Holly,” I tell her as she slowly makes her way up the long gravel drive of the Knights Rebels compound. My head is already going through every scenario and I’m freaking the fuck out.

“Do you know what you are getting yourself into, Kadence?” Shutting off the engine to her beat-up Honda, she turns to look at me.

“I have got no idea, Hol, but there’s something there. Nix has made me realize how much in the past I’ve been living,” I tell her, turning to face her. “I don’t know where this is going, but I’m ready to move on. I'm ready for some goodness.”

She smiles, reaching for my hand. “I’m glad, babe. If anyone deserves it, it’s you. Now, let's go have us a hot biker BBQ,” she cheers, getting out of the car, her short skirt and tight tank sure to capture some of the guys’ attention. I opted for jeans and a tank.

Walking up to the front door, I notice a few more bikes in the compound. My hands sweat knowing we’re moving into new territory, and I’m not sure if my heart is ready for it. My head screams, telling me it’s a good thing, but my heart is second-guessing if introducing us to Z is the right thing to do.

“Come on, woman. Suck it up,” Holly says, noticing my reservations before dragging me through the door, apparently eager to see inside the clubhouse.

Leather and smoke assault my senses and I drag a breath in, my body remembering the scent as all Nix. I’m beginning to love this place. Music beats out of the surround speakers making the framed pictures hanging on the walls next to us shake slightly. Children, women, and their men fill the room, their voices fighting to be heard over the music. Holly takes me straight to the bar, ordering us two Coronas from Hunter.

“This place is great!” Holly marvels, taking a drink from her beer.

“Kadence,” Jesse calls from behind me. I spin on my stool to face him. He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Good to see you here, darlin',” he whispers to me, a slight grin on his lips. Jesse steps back and then looks over my shoulder. “I don’t think we’ve formally met,” he drawls. I turn back to Holly, watching Jesse bring her hand to his lips. Real smooth.

“Holly, this is Jesse. Jesse, this is my best friend, Holly,” I do the introduction without much enthusiasm.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He moves in close and I have to laugh. I think all these men have it bad for themselves, but Jesse takes the cake. The guy is the modern-day Casanova.

“Hi.” She barely gives him a glance, not affected by his blatant flirting. Holly’s disinterest doesn't deter Jesse. His play is only taken to the next level when he reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Geez, you’re a pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” he states, and both Holly and I roll our eyes. Watching Jesse with his blond messy hair and tanned skin standing next to Holly’s similar coloring, you can’t help see they would make a cute couple. However, I know the type of guys Holly goes for, and Jesse’s good-boy looks are not her type.

“You done?” Sy’s voice comes up behind me. A tremor slides down my spine at his dark, menacing tone. I don’t turn to face him, but from the look Holly is giving him, I know he is pissed. I freaking knew he has something for Holly.

“Sorry, brother, am I stepping on some toes here?” Jesse pulls back from Holly. I slightly shift in my stool, the temptation too much for me not to watch this play out. Sy looks more pissed off. Whether at himself or at Jesse, I’m not sure, but if I have to guess, I will say he doesn't like seeing Jesse talking up Holly.

“No toes,” Holly pipes up, her manicured hand reaching out and grabbing onto Jesse’s massive bicep. The little vixen knows what she’s doing. If I didn’t know her so well, I would say she’s playing it totally cool.

“Fuck me,” Sy grunts out under his breath.

“Wanna show me around?” Holly asks Jesse as she stands from her stool, her eyes still fixed on Sy, holding his gaze. He holds hers back, his eyes narrowing and the tick in his jaw moving at a dangerous beat. He follows their movements as they walk past, glaring daggers at Jesse when he turns to give him the thumbs up.

“Have you seen, Nix?” I ask Sy after sitting with him for a few minutes in an uncomfortable silence. Shit, I have no idea what to say to him, and I’m nowhere near stupid enough to ask him what that whole scene with Holly was about.

“Out the back with Z,” he supplies, taking a pull of his beer.

“Thanks, Sy.” I smile awkwardly, leaving him alone. I’m not sure how his moods work, but I’d rather be out with Nix facing Z, then sitting with him. The guy is one scary man. Walking through the club, I look around at the men and women here today. Most of the men have been around the last few times I’ve been here. I smile and wave as I pass them. Walking outside, I spot Nix and Z with a ball and mitt throwing back and forth between them near a large metal shed. There are a few kids running around, people standing around in small groups, but my stare is lost on Nix playing ball with his son.

Jesus, if that isn’t a turn on I don’t know what is.

Unsure what to do, I hang back and wait for them to finish up. I spot Jesse and Holly talking to Brooks and a woman who must be his wife; their daughter, a spitting image of her mom, bounces up and down on his lap.

“Hello,” a woman with big hair and even bigger tits comes up to me before I can make my way over to them. The sway in her hips telling me she’s not shy at all. “You’re new around here,” she remarks, clearly not caught up on who I am. I nod and smile before discreetly looking her up and down. I have no doubt in my mind that this piece of work is Chrissie. The guys have warned me of her.

“Miss Turner,” Z calls out spotting me from his game. Dropping his mitt, he runs toward me. The woman narrows her eyes at me; I’m sure assessing me like I was just doing to her. I don’t react, just step around her to greet Z.

“Hey, Z,” I say, feeling less awkward than I thought I would. Z looks a lot older for his age. His tall frame stands a foot shorter than me. He seems happy to see me, and I can only hope today goes well.

"Hey, Miss Turner," he smiles.

“Hey, Nix,” Big Tits behind me calls out as he makes his way to us. She walks past me to him as he gets closer. I’m somewhat dreading how I will react if she touches him.

“You know the fuckin’ rules, Chrissie. It’s a family get-together. Leave now.” He steps out of her way, reaching out to grab me around the back of my neck to pull me into him. Bending at the neck, his lips seek mine in an act of dominance that I don’t fight, but take it for what it is. A claiming in front of his club, letting them all know that I’m his. I open up. A soft sigh comes from my mouth earning me a growl. His hands come to my loose hair, fisting and then pulling my head back to give him more control.

The kiss takes over, and I get completely lost to everyone and everything around us. Nix consumes me, surrounds me while taking everything from me. The sound of cheering breaks through the haze of our passion. Pulling back, Nix brings his forehead to mine, our breathing heavy as each other’s.

“Hey, honey,” I say, smiling at his smile. The gentleness of his features melts me when he shows me his soft side.

“You came,” he simply replies, no teasing; more disbelief.

“Of course I came. You told me to.”

“You’ve been known not to do as you’re told,” he reminds me before quickly kissing me again and then pulling back, his smile this time teasing me. The cheers calm down, and I come to my senses remembering Z is standing next to me. Shit!

I pull out of Nix’s arms and turn to face him, but he’s gone. For a second, I worry we’ve embarrassed him or upset him at our public display of affection.

“It's okay. He’s over by Brooks,” Nix calms me, sensing my panic. I turn, looking for him. His eyes find mine before he’s smiling over at me. I smile back, relieved that he isn’t freaked out by me being here.

“Had a word with him before you got here.” Nix leans down to my ear again so only I can hear. “He’s fine with this,” he tells me. A weight of worry lifts from my shoulders, relieved that he spoke to him.

“Want something to eat?” he offers, standing back from me. I nod, ready to move past the attention Nix just gathered us. “Come on. Beau is grilling today.” He takes my hand, walking me over to Beau. I’m still not sure about Beau. I wonder if his issue with me is more than me escaping.

“Hey, Beau,” I smile, hoping he warms up to me soon. He's Nix’s best friend and things could get awkward, fast.

“Kadence,” he replies in his way of greeting. Okay, so maybe not today. I grab a plate ready to move on.

“You speak with T?” Nix asks Beau.

“Yeah, he can’t get a hold on him. Thinks he’s gone underground.” Nix nods, looking deep in thought.

“Still think they’re planning something.” He sounds annoyed.

“You okay?” I ask after a few moments of awkward silence. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is has Nix worried.

“Yeah, just some club shit. Let's go find Z.” He takes my hand and leads me over to where he’s sitting with Brooks. After introducing me to Kelly, Brooks’ beautiful wife, and their adorable little girl, Mia, I start to relax.

“What did she say to you?” Kelly asks, bouncing Mia on her lap. Kelly is the only old lady around my age. After eating, Nix had to go off and deal with some ‘shit’ so he left me with Kelly. She let me in on the gossip regarding me putting Tina in her place and filled me in on the woman known as Chrissie, aka big hair and bigger tits. Apparently, I missed the words Nix gave her before I got there. Skanks like her aren’t allowed on family days, only on club nights. Why she even tried, Kelly doesn’t know.

“Just observed I was new around here,” I tell her, not concerned about the woman.

Kelly nods her head. “I don’t trust her,” she shakes her head. “You should have seen her storm off after she saw that kiss. The woman is delusional. Really close with Addi too,” she adds. “Which reminds me, how is Z doing?”

“Better. Since seeing the school counselor, I’ve noticed small changes in him. This morning, Nix and I talked about what could be bothering him and it all comes back to his mom,” I admit before I remember she was her best friend.

“Yeah, I think so too,” she agrees, making me feel less bad that I just blamed his mom.

Addison is one subject I don’t like to get into, especially with Nix. Letting Z know about our relationship is a big step for me. I wanted to wait until the end of next month, when school is out and he moves up a grade. I feel bad that Nix feels like he’s been hiding us from him, but the situation we are in can go either way. I’m Z’s teacher and the school doesn’t know about our relationship; I hope that if they do find out before the school year ends, they don’t make too much of a deal about it.

As the afternoon progresses, Holly continues to piss Sy off, ignoring him while teasing him at the same time. They’ve got this kind of sexual tension that seems like they are familiar with each other, yet they've barely held a conversation. Even Nix notices that something is up. I try to talk to her about it, but she just keeps blowing me off.

Z shows no signs of feeling uncomfortable with my being in his dad’s clubhouse. He even hung out with us most of the time. The day was a success. It also solidified in my mind that I really want things to work out between Nix and me.

Until his ex-wife walks in.

I’m sitting next to Z talking with Kelly and Brooks when I realize something is wrong. Z freezes next to me. His happy, normal self sinks further in his chair and I’m instantly on alert.

“Are you all right, Z?” I ask, reaching out and lightly touching his arm.

“Bitch, get your hands off my son,” Addison’s voice yells out across the back courtyard.

“Addison!” Nix warns, calling out from across the huge area where he was talking with Jesse. He begins stalking closer with long steps.

“Sorry, Prez.” Hunter comes up behind Addison, obviously the one to let her in. “She fucking said it was an emergency.” He shakes his head, clearly realizing he fucked up.

“Z, come with me,” Kelly says, jumping into action, standing from her spot next to me and holding out her hand.

“Z, it’s time to go, now!” Addison yells, walking closer to us.

“I’m warning you, Addison,” Nix comes up, standing in front of us.

Everyone is quiet around us, but my brain is trying to keep up with Nix and Addison yelling at each other and Kelly trying to convince Z, who refuses to leave, watching his father and mother stand up against each other.

“Z, go with Kelly, would ya, bud?” Nix turns to look at his son.

“Like fuck,” Addison spits out, still being a pain in the ass and only pissing Nix off more.

“Z, look at me, buddy.” Z’s eyes find his dad’s. “Go inside.” He nods to him, letting him know that it’s going be okay.

“Z, get your ass in the car. We’re going, now. Get your shit together.” Z stands locked in their battle, unmoving, stuck between who to listen to. Reaching my hand out to his shoulder, I squeeze it to get his attention. I feel sorry for him, standing there watching his parents go at it with each other and fighting over him. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.

“Get your hands off my son, bitch,” Addison yells again and I watch Z flinch.

That’s the second time she’s called me a bitch, the temper in me slowly rising each time she spits it at me, but I ignore it for Z’s benefit. He doesn’t need to see this, bigger things are happening.

“Z?” I softly call. He looks up at me, his eyes pleading with me.

“I don’t wanna go home with mom,” he whispers, just for my ears.

“It’s okay, Z. I won’t let her take you, but you need to go with Kelly so your mom and dad can talk, okay?” He nods his head and moves forward with Kelly, Mia in her arms. Brooks moves in now, standing closer to me.

“Z, quit being fucking stupid. I’m not gonna tell you again, get your fucking shit and get in the goddamn car.” She reaches out as he passes her. Z shrinks back like he’s frightened that she is going to hit him, the ugliness of her words settling around everyone who's here.

“What the fuck, Addison?” Nix’s voice takes on a coldness that I’ve yet to hear. I step in closer to his side. I know he wouldn’t hit her, but the tension in the air is so thick, who knows what’s about to happen. Everyone is on alert, Jesse, Beau and Sy, all moving closer.

“You speak to my boy like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kelly takes Z’s hand and walks him past his parents, away from the shit storm that’s brewing.

“Why is Z’s teacher getting comfortable with our son?” Addison immediately begins when Kelly closes the door.

“I’m not telling you anythin’, woman. You think you can walk in, spewin’ your fucked-up shit. The only reason my hands aren’t on you, draggin’ your sorry ass out of here is ‘cause our son is sittin’ in the next goddamn room scared out of his fuckin’ mind,” Nix grates out, his temper riding the wave of the anger we all are feeling at her words and the way she spoke to Z.

“Don’t be dramatic, Nix,” she scoffs, like it’s no big deal she just tried to put her hands on her son.

“Fuckin’ tell me why I shouldn’t just do it? Speakin’ to our son like that, the shit you’re spewing is affectin’ my boy. What the fuck is your problem?” He asks the question that’s on everyone’s lips.

I go to walk past them, not prepared to be a part of it. Watching Z shut down like that, it’s not hard to see that his issue has to do with his mom. After meeting with them back at the classroom weeks ago, I would never have guessed that things could be this bad. Nix’s hand comes out, grabbing my wrist in his fingers.

“You’re stayin’,” he firmly states.

“What the fuck?” Addison screeches. Knowing that I’m not going to get very far arguing with the man, I nod, agreeing to stay.

“So you’re fucking Z’s teacher now? Is that it? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I swallow past the urge to defend myself, to tell her it’s none of her business, but I kind of know it is so I just shut my mouth, knowing things will only just get more out of hand.

‘We’ll talk about that in a minute,” Nix says, letting go of his hold on me, and taking a large step into her space. “First we’re gonna discuss why you’re in my club. Then we’re gonna establish why you think speakin’ to my boy like that would ever be okay. ‘Cause I’m tellin’ you now, woman, I ever hear you talk to him like that again, we're gonna have fuckin’ huge problems.” He takes a step back but still stands in her space. Addison nods her head, swallowing loudly but with a scowl still on her face.

“What are you doin’ here?” he asks again, seemingly calmer than me. How he can seem so controlled, while I stand here overwhelmed with anger and a need to protect Z, impresses me.

“Heard she was here.” She points to me, hatred etched over her face.

“So? You think that gives you the right to walk into my club? What happens while Z is in my care is my responsibility.”

“You fucking her?” she hisses with disdain.

“That’s none of your business,” I say, interrupting them, forgetting I should keep my mouth shut.

“I’m not talking to you, bitch,” Addison spits out at me.

“That’s the last time you call her a bitch. You speak only to me. We have enough problems, Addison. Don’t create more.” Nix squeezes my hand, letting me know that he has this. Frustration and anger flow through me. Seriously, this woman is a piece of work.

"Go home, Addison. I'm not gettin’ into it with you tonight in your state,” Nix tells her.

“I’m taking Z with me,” she continues not to listen.

“Like hell you are. After today, I’m not even sure I’m bringin’ him back after my four days.” I have to agree with that idea, knowing for sure that Z won’t be safe at his mom’s. I saw the fear in his reaction; something or someone has instilled that in him.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Addison scoffs, not getting how fucked she really is.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m over this bullshit you keep pullin’. Z is my main concern, and this just seals the deal. You need to leave Addison, now, before I do somethin’ I’m gonna regret. Somethin’ Z doesn't need to see.”

“This is all your fault,” she seethes, taking her anger out on me. “You’re a home-wrecker,” she accuses.

“Right, you blew it,” Nix snaps, signaling Sy and Jesse. “This conversation is over,” he states, pulling me away from her. Sy takes one arm and Jesse the other, pulling her along. She doesn’t leave without a fight, kicking and screaming.

“Fuck you, Nix. You’re my husband. You’re fucking my husband, bitch,” she continues to scream as Sy and Jesse struggle with her.

“Are you okay?” I ask as she is dragged away around the corner.

“Who fuckin’ told her Kadence was here?” he bellows out to everyone standing around. “We got a songbird on our hands,” he sneers.

“Nix,” Brooks speaks up, “it was probably fucking Chrissie, relax,” he says trying to calm him down as everyone starts leaving, heading inside to give Nix some space.

“You right, brother?” Beau comes up, looking concerned.

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out how bad I’ve fucked up here.” He rubs the tops of his eyes.

“Hey, this is not your fault, Nix.” I take his hand. I can see the anger working behind his eyes.

“She’s been speakin’ to him like that when I’m not around. Who fuckin’ knows what else she’s been doin’?”

“We don’t know that. Going in there angry might frighten him, okay?” I try to coax him off the ledge. I can see he’s slowly slipping, can see how he might not get a grip on it, but he has to, for Z. He sits on a vacant chair as the guys leave us alone.

“Do you think this is what’s been goin’ on? Why he’s been so withdrawn?” he asks after few minutes of silence.

I want to say no, maybe it was a one-off, but I see the fear in his eyes, hear his plea.

“I think so. The signs are there,” I give it to him honestly.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Maybe he was scared, Nix. You saw the look on his face.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, grabbing onto my hand. “I’ve fucked up badly here.”

“How? This isn’t on you,” I tell him, even though I know he won’t listen. I can already see his mind ticking over at what he missed.

This is on Addison. A mother’s job is to protect her child, not abuse their trust. You can see in Z’s reaction something isn’t right. Something has broken that trust.

“Dad?” Z calls from the back door, his expression lost and scared.

“Hey, bud, come and sit with me.” He taps the chair next to him. I stand to give them some space.

“Can Miss Turner stay?” he asks, looking at me, so unsure.

“Yeah, she won’t go anywhere,” Nix assures him, knowing I won’t leave if he wants me here. I move over one chair so he can sit between us.

“Am I in trouble?” his voice wobbles, looking up at his father.

“Why would you be in trouble? You haven’t done anything wrong,” Nix assures him, his eyebrows creasing.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn't know how to tell you.” Z sounds so uncertain, I can’t help but reach out. I take his hand in mine, trying to offer some comfort. He has nothing to be scared about, nothing at all.

“This been goin’ on for long?” Nix quietly asks.

“Just really started to get worse,” Z confirms.

“She touch you in anger like that before?”

I hold back the need to cry at Nix’s question. I just feel so helpless listening to him confirm what I had feared.

“Sometimes, when she’s really angry. Mostly it’s just a grab or slap and yelling at me.”

“Fuck,” Nix curses under his breath.

“I was gonna tell you this weekend, I swear, but then we had the BBQ,” he rushes out.

“Hey, Z, it’s okay. You’re not in any trouble,” I try to reassure him.

“But I should have told Dad or the counselor you sent me to. I just didn’t know what was gonna happen.”

“This is not your fault, bud. We’ll sort it out,” Nix assures him. Reaching over, he kisses his head.

“Let’s go home.” Nix stands and waits for Z’s response.

“Is Miss Turner coming?” They both look to me waiting for my answer. Shit. I want to go, to be there for both of them, but should I back off, let Nix sort this out? Looking up at Nix, he nods, giving me his answer.

“Only if you call me Kadence, but don’t tell any of the kids at school,” I smile, giving him a wink.

“I promise.” He smiles, and for a moment I forget things are about to get a whole lot messier. I don’t know what the hell Nix is going to do to Addison, and the thought alone scares me.

24

NIX

I SLAM the bedroom door shut behind me, the rage building inside of me bringing me to the brink. The week has been the most fucked up I’ve had to deal with in a long time, but reading what I just read, I’m struggling to contain it.

I made an appointment with my attorney after spending the rest of Sunday afternoon talking with Z, trying to get him to open up about what’s been happening. I soon realized that the shit at his mom’s house is a lot worse than I first thought. I knew that Addison never wanted to end things; that decision was mine, but taking all her anger out on Z? That shit is fucked.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. The pain of watching my son express his fear of going back to Addison’s tore at me. I want to take away the bullshit she put him through. I want to wring her neck at the shit she’s been telling him, but at the end of the day, the only thing I can do is make sure this shit doesn’t happen again. I’ve wanted to go over there every day this week, do to her what she’s done to him, put my hands on her, but that’s not going to help Z. After just coming from my attorney, and reading through Z’s statement for CPS, I feel like if I don’t get a handle on my burning anger, I’m going to do something I’ll regret.

I pace the length of my room, willing my body to calm. Z doesn’t need to see this; he’s already witnessed too much hate.

My phone beeps from my pocket and I reach back and pull it out.

KADENCE: On my way home. Want me to pick anything up?

Is it bad that hearing her call my home her home has me feeling all kinds of good?

NIX: No, only want your pretty face in my presence ASAP.

KADENCE: Yeah, yeah, Casanova. You just want my cooking skills. Lasagna?

NIX: Okay, you got me. Your pretty face and your amazing lasagna.

After two text messages, she’s managed to calm me enough to be able to find Z and make sure he’s okay. I couldn’t even talk on the drive home. I probably scared him, but reading his recount of what she’d done to him, her hands on him, and the fact he was too afraid to tell me? Fuck, it was too much.

Walking down the hall to his room, I lightly tap on the door.

“Hey, Z, can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he replies and I push the door open. He’s sitting on his bed, his iPod in his hand.

“Sorry about that. I just needed to have a breather,” I explain my behavior. He nods, looking back down at his lap. Leaning up against the wall, I decide to tell him the truth.

“Z, what your mom has done is tearing me up and I can’t seem to get a handle on it,” I admit. I wish I could, but right now, I feel like I’m swimming in so much hate.

“I didn’t know what to say. What you would have said. I was scared.” He looks up at me, his small voice breaking.

“I know and I’m not angry at you for that. I’m just trying to work through all this with you. You’re my life. Anyone hurts you, they hurt me. I’m meant to protect you, Z. It’s my job.”

I walk forward and sit down next to him. Fuck, this kid is my life. The anger burning in my veins is for him, for what his mother did to him.

“I won’t have to go back, will I?” Fear flashes over his green eyes, and it just cuts me more. Where I crave the chance to have more time with my mom, my boy is hoping he doesn’t see his again. The woman is a fool.

“Not if you don’t want to,” I tell him. No fucking way will I make him go if he doesn’t want to.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Okay, buddy,” I nod, agreeing with him. I don’t blame him; she lost that privilege when she first put her hands on him.

My phone rings from my back pocket. Pulling it out, I see Kadence’s name flash across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe,” she says. And a jolt runs through me when I hear her voice. “Is Z there?”

“Yeah, why?” I ask concerned.

“Can you put him on?”

“It’s for you.” I hand the phone to Z, feeling less wanted. I’m jealous of my fucking son. Great.

“Hello?” he answers. His mouth spreads into a smile at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah,” he exclaims, his head bobbing up and down as he listens to her talk. “Okay, bye.” He ends the call, handing the phone back.

“What was that about?” I ask, wanting to know what has him smiling so much, something that only seems to happen around Kadence.

“She wanted to know if I liked apple pie. Told me she’ll make one from scratch and bring home ice cream.” His mind is blown that people make them from scratch. I laugh at his reaction. I’d like to think I’m a good cook, but I don’t do any baking and obviously his mother has never baked him one.

“She told me she would make lasagna again too,” I tell him, more excited for supper tonight.

“Yes!” he fist pumps, his smile breaking out over his face again. She made it last Sunday night for dinner when I took them both home following the shit that went down with Addison.

I love my brothers and the support they give me, but I needed to be with Z, and most of all, Z and I needed to be alone.

Kadence didn’t have a choice, Z wanting her to come with us. I knew she wanted to be there for him, but watching her face as Z confessed to some of the things his mom had been saying and doing, I could say we both needed each other. She cooked us dinner while Z and I sat and talked. I wanted to know everything, but at the same time, I didn’t want to push him. He opened up more with Kadence around, feeling comfortable with her.

By the end of the night, we were all drained and ready for bed. Before Z went up to bed, he told her that if she was staying the night, she didn’t have to sneak out early like all the other times last week. A blush flooded her neck and over her cheeks as he laughed himself up the stairs. He had admitted during our talk that he knew someone was here last week, heard them talking when he had woken early one morning. He just didn’t know who it was.

It was a moment that made a tense night feel like things were going to be okay. She stayed that night and every night since, and not once has she had to sneak out in the morning. In one week, we’ve created this routine that I don’t ever want to break. Z has moments where I can see what the truth of this week has done, completely shifting his life around, exposing the secret he’s hidden. He’ll look lost trying to process it all, and then Kadence will walk through the door, and I’ll have my son back.

“Come on. Let's go down. She'll be here soon,” I tell him, standing from the bed. He follows, excited to see Kadence. Even though that warms me, it also fills me with concern. Pushing it away, I turn and face him. “Z.” I stop and look down at him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, buddy.” I scruff his hair, knowing more than anything, he needs to hear it.

“Love you, too, Dad.” He smiles, and for every smile he gives me, a small amount of that stagnant anger that lives in me leaves.

“OH, God,” Kadence whimpers as I place my hand over her mouth.

“Shhh, babe. You’re gonna wake up Z,” I tell her between thrusts.

“Well, stop fucking me so good then,” she pants behind my hand.

“Never.” I quicken my movements, as I feel her tighten around me. Her head thrashes to the side, her teeth biting into the soft flesh of her upper arm to soften her cries.

“You. Feel. So. Fuckin’. Good.” I punch out with each thrust. Her orgasm takes over, her unique kind of blush making itself known as it creeps across her skin. Fuck, I love it. Her pussy tightens around me, milking my orgasm from me. My cum fills her as I release my frustrations of today with each brutal pound. She takes it all, every hard and harsh thrust while begging for more.

Fuck, I’m in— I love this woman. Love? Even if I tried to deny it, my head wouldn’t let me.

I move my hand to the side of her neck and plant myself as deep as I can and let the orgasm ride out. Her head turns; the warmth of her lips find the inside of my wrist. I’m lost in the moment, forgetting about the shit week we’ve had.

“Are you okay?” The softness of her voice and the closeness of our bodies make me want to tell her that I’ve fallen in love with her. But I don’t. I know she’s not ready to hear it, and with the shit going on with Z, I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she pulled away.

“Yeah,” I breathe out. Leaning down, I kiss her forehead and pull out, rolling onto my side.

She turns facing me. “It’s going to be okay, Nix,” she promises, and as much as I believe her, I’m still struggling.

“I know, Kadence. It’s just being his dad is the most important job to me, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve let him down.”

Her head shakes in disagreement. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself.”

“I know. It's just hard when he responds better to you than me,” I admit. Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. I just know Z feels more comfortable with her.

“Is my being here too much?” She comes up to her forearm, her eyes now concerned.

“No. No, I’m not saying that. I just feel like he’s relying too much on you as a buffer to me. I feel like I need to connect with him, get right with him.” My hand reaches out to soothe her soft skin.

“And you can’t do that with me here,” she finishes for me.

“I want you here, babe. I do. But I’m thinking of takin’ Z up to my pop’s cabin for the week. I think it would be good for both of us.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Nix.” She smiles, reaching out to stroke my face. I fucking love it when she touches me.

“It will only be for a week, five days even,” I repeat, hoping she doesn’t think I’m pushing her away.

“Honey, if you needed a month, I’d give it to you. It’s okay.” She leans forward, bringing her soft lips to mine. I don’t deepen the kiss; instead, I pull back to look at her. Her eyes open and meet my gaze. Behind her pale blue eyes, I recognize something that she hasn’t given me before, something that I know she doesn’t want to admit, but staring back at me, it's written all over her face. She’s falling in love with me.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I wonder aloud, feeling like this woman just doesn't stop bewitching me.

“Nothing really. You bossed me into dating you. Fucked me good, and then you wouldn’t leave me alone. Now you’re stuck with me.” She laughs at her own take of how things are.

“It’s more like you’re stuck with me,” I tell her. Her eyes sparkle with happiness, like the thought of it couldn’t get any better. Her mouth descends to my ear, and quietly she confesses, “I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.”

Yep, I’ve fallen in love.

25

KADENCE

THE SCHOOL BELL rings above my head letting me know that the long week I’ve just had is almost over. The kids pile out, happy their weekend is here, while I’m quietly dreading mine.

It’s been four nights since Nix took Z out to his dad's cabin two hours away, deciding to have some one-on-one time together. Nix needed to make sure Z is handling the change. I understand his decision to go to his pop’s cabin. His dad is his only family left and he needed to be with him, to surround Z with people who he trusts. I just wish I could join them.

Grabbing my bag and the worksheets I need to grade over the weekend, I shut down the classroom and make my way to my car. I wave over at Brooks sitting on his bike, two rows down. Nix still hasn’t eased up on the guys watching over me, especially with him being away. Brooks waves back and I get in the car. I honestly have no idea how I used to do this every weekend before I met Nix. When you’re so used to having someone around breathing in your presence, you forget how lonely you were before.

My phone rings in my hand and I can’t stop the thrill of thinking it might be Nix. Seriously, Kadence?

“Hello,” I answer without even looking at the screen.

“Hey, baby girl,” my dad’s voice booms down the phone. Even though I wanted to speak to Nix, my dad is my other favorite guy in my life, so my disappointment is short lived.

“Hey, Dad,” I smile into my cell.

“Don’t hey, Dad me. Where the hell you been? You haven’t come to see us in over four weeks, girl.” He sounds concerned, but I don’t get a chance to respond when my mom takes the phone off him.

“Ignore him, honey. He’s just upset you haven’t brought any of your famous apple pie,” my mom’s soft voice calls down the phone.

“Hey, Mom.” I smile when I hear her swatting my father away as he yells he wants pie.

“How are you?” she asks. I can detect the small amount of concern in her voice.

“I’m good, Mom. I met someone,” I admit straight away. No point in hiding anymore, and I would hate for them to worry. When I was going through all the shit with Zane, I pushed everyone out, including my parents. I hated what I put them through.

“I knew it,” she whispers. I can hear the happiness in her voice.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been out to see you.”

“Kadence, when I was your age, the last thing I wanted to be doing was coming home to see my parents when I had your father waiting for me.” She giggles and I smile at my mom. She’s not like your usual mom. Growing up an only child, she was like my best friend. We have a great relationship and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t tell her.

“His name is Nix. He’s annoying, bossy, and gets on my nerves, but I think he might be the one,” I admit quietly, knowing that he is the one.

“Sounds just like your father.” We both laugh.

“I’ll bring him out in a few weeks. Think you can hold off, Papa Bear?” I cringe, picturing their first meet. Do I have to be there for that one?

“I’ll keep him at bay, just maybe bring backup. Holly might do,” she laughs. My dad and Holly are the funniest pair to be around. Holly’s crazy attitude and my bossy dad clash something fierce. I know he loves her and she loves him, but if you're looking for a showdown with sarcastic jabs, put those two in a room.

“Sounds like a good idea. I gotta go, Mom. Speaking of Holly, we have a movie date. I’ll call you next week.”

“Okay, baby girl. I love you.”

“Love you too. Tell Dad I love him,” I say before hanging up.

Well shit. I didn’t think I would be ready to admit that Nix was the one, especially to my parents. Apparently, shit just got real.

“HOLLY, let’s haul ass, or we’ll be late,” I call out, coming out of my room.

“Cool your jets,” she yells back with attitude. I don’t know what has been up with her lately. Maybe I’ve been so caught up in my own drama that I’ve missed a vital piece of evidence, but something is going on with her. I just have no idea what. She walks out wearing lounge pants and a baggy sweatshirt, her messy blonde hair piled on top of her head. For the amount of years I’ve known Holly, not once have I ever seen her leave the house looking the way she is.

“Are you feeling okay, Holly?” I hold back the laugh as I look down at her chosen outfit. “You don’t seem like yourself?” I push a little.

“I’m fine, Kadence,” she bites back. I cock my eyebrow and look her straight in the eye. Fine my ass.

“Right, okay, let’s go then,” I say, walking past her to grab my coat. If she doesn’t want to talk right now, I’m not going to push her.

“Kadence?” Holly’s voice softly calls after me.

“Yeah?” I say, turning back around to her. Looking at my best friend, I know she is hiding something that is tearing her up. I don’t know why she won’t share. We’ve been through everything together.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t, okay?” she softly explains. Her eyes are showing a sadness that I’ve never seen from her.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here if you need me. Just don’t push me out.”

I don’t know how to help her through this if she doesn't let me in, but I do know I sat in darkness for three years pushing people away, and she stood by me every step of the way. If that’s what I have to do, I’ll do it.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears. Her head nods slowly. I’m worried about her, but I understand pushing her will not get me anywhere.

“Okay let’s go on then.”

Grabbing the keys, we head out. The stress and the worry of what might be happening with her weigh heavy on my shoulders.

“OH, God, can you believe that ending?” I say to Holly, walking out of the movie theater. Sometimes movies just don’t do it for me anymore. Give me a book with all the details.

“I know, right? Complete bullshit.” She smiles back at me, a little glimpse of her happy, crazy self.

“Where’s Brooks?” I ask, looking out to where he was sitting before we went in.

“I don’t know, but I need the bathroom,” she says, leaving me there. Something doesn’t feel right. Brooks and all the boys have been taking this ‘looking out for me’ seriously. Brooks not being there is putting me on edge. The people walk out around me as I try to call his cell.

“You ready to go?” Holly asks, coming back from the restroom.

“I tried to call Brooks but he didn’t pick up,” I tell her, starting to freak out.

“He might have had an emergency,” she says unconcerned. “Let’s go see if he’s outside,” she says, pulling us out the doors. Most people have left; the parking lot is almost empty. Turning the corner, I notice Brooks’ bike sitting unattended next to my car. What the hell?

“Hello, Kadence.” Zane’s voice startles me. I look up to see him resting against the building. I scan our surroundings looking for Brooks, but I come up empty.

“Holly.” He turns to her with a little smile on his face. Holly’s grip on my arm tightens as I see her grab her phone.

“What do you want, Zane?” I ask him, getting the attention off her.

Zane’s right hand comes out fast, and at first I think he’s about to strike me. My hands come up to protect my face, but his hand goes to my throat. The hold on me is so intense I can barely make out Holly’s screaming. For a brief second, I notice her struggling with another man.

“Shut the fuck up, Holly,” he yells over at her, “or I’ll kill her.” Her screams stop abruptly.

He smiles, looking back at me. His grip still tight around the soft flesh of my neck, black spots dance in front of my vision. My heart and lungs are working overtime from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to gulp down air, but it eludes my grasp. My fingers claw at his hold. Trying to pry his death grip, my nails cut his skin. Kicking my legs out, I try to fight with everything I have.

“You need to stop fighting me, Kadence, or I’m going to put a bullet in Holly.” He laughs an evil laugh as he drags me around to the back of the building. The darkness that slowly starts to creep in fades as he loosens his grip. I don’t know if he will follow through with his threat, but something screams inside of me to keep fighting, and not give up. A wave of adrenaline washes over me, giving me strength to fight. Why is this asshole trying to kill me? What the hell did I ever do to him?

Clawing at his hand again, I use all my strength to try to pry his grip away from my throat. My knee comes back to build momentum, before I push forward, delivering a hard and fast blow between his legs. The connection is brutal as the attack takes him unaware. His grip loosens enough for me to drag in a large breath down my aching throat. I spin to my left, my surroundings flashing past me as I twist my way out of his hold and step out of his reach.

He’s too fast, stepping forward and pulling hard on my hair. I feel the sting of the sharp tug all over, the sensation prickling my skin. My heel goes back into his groin, and my elbow connects with his nose simultaneously. I don’t know where my movements are coming from, but the thought of dying at the hands of this man replaces my fear and leaves me with an all-consuming rage. It bursts from me, taking me somewhere I’ve never known. Anger like this doesn't come from nowhere. It comes from deep-down hatred for a person who has tried to take everything from you. Spinning around, my fingers go to his dark hair. Latching on, I rip back with all my strength. He has already taken too much from me, and now here he stands in front of me, back for more.

I don’t think so, asshole.

“You bitch,” he spits outs, his hands coming out in front of him, trying to gain the upper hand. Holly’s whimpers echo out in to the night, but I can’t get my body to turn fast enough to see if she’s okay.

“I’m going to kill you like I should have done three years ago,” he spits, his face contorted in rage

Hot blood surges through my body, burning furiously in my veins. I release the hand from his hair, closing in for his eye, my thumb gouging out with all the strength I can muster. A painful force pushes me back, his knee coming to my stomach. My diaphragm contracts under the force and my knees buckle under the pressure, connecting with the rough surface of the asphalt. A kick to my side and a loud snap has me gasping for air, each inhale screaming for me to stop.

“You think you can overpower me, Kadence?”

A fistful of my hair brings me up to my grazed knees; bile rises up, as the pain is too much to bear. He grins, standing in front of my kneeling body. “Fuck, you’re pathetic,” he laughs as the upper side of his free hand connects with my face with a backhand. I hold back the urge to cry out as the force splits the side of my mouth. The metallic coppery taste of blood invades my taste buds as he leans forward, closing the distance. The smell of stale cigarettes fills my nostrils, and the familiar black stars dance deliriously behind my eyes. Holding on, I fight the darkness, not ready to go down.

“Fuck you, Zane,” I force out past the intense pain at my side and my chest, my voice scratchy from the strong force his hands had around my neck. His hand reaches the waist of his pants, pulling out a gun.

“With pleasure,” he sneers before bring the butt of his gun across the side of my face.

Everything goes black.

I WAKE to the soft cries of Holly across from me. It's dark but I can see the bright glow of the moon coming through a small window.

“Holly?” I croak out, my voice not my own.

“Kadence, thank God, you’re awake,” she cries harder. I try to sit up from the hard concrete floor, but my chest hurts too much. I take stock of my injuries. My face is throbbing, but not as bad as the soreness of my throat. My hands and knees sting, but it’s my chest that I’m feeling the worst pain.

“Something is wrong with my chest,” I croak out the words and try to still my erratic breathing.

“It’s okay, Kadence. Sy’s on his way.”

“Where are we?” I try to focus my eyes, but I can only make out shadows, my head throbbing.

“I don’t know, but Sy is gonna find us.” She sounds so sure, so I don’t question her with my doubts of him finding us.

“Are you hurt?” Shit, the last thing I ever want is Holly getting hurt because of me.

“I’m fine. I’m tied up, but I put up a good fight.” The proudness in her voice makes me smile on this totally messed up night.

“How long have we been here?”

“We’ve been here for an hour, but it’s been two hours since they put us in the van,” she tells me. Two hours. Oh God, there is no way anyone is going to find us.

The door on the far wall creaks open. My breathing stills as I wait for what, I’m not sure, but this can’t be good. The room is suddenly bathed in bright light, blinding me for a moment as Zane walks into the room.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” He walks up to where I’m lying on the hard cold floor. I look around; we must be in a shed.

“What the fuck do you want, Zane?” I ask, the wheeze of my chest burns after each word spoken. Even though he has the upper hand, I’m not going down without a fight.

Zane’s rough fingers clutch my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Oh, Kadence, see what happens when you hang with biker scum? You start speaking like biker scum.” He shakes his head like a father disappointed in his daughter.

I shake my head out of his grasp, the movement sending an excruciating pain down the left side of my body. His hand reaches out, fisting my loose hair, bringing me up in one forceful jerk. I scream at the sting of my head and the shooting pain through my chest, my lungs struggling to seize some air. Bile surges up my throat at the sheer pain. Forcing it down, I tell myself not to break. How could he be doing this? You think you know someone, think you love them... I shared my bed for three years with this man, shared my dreams, my body, my life, but I don’t know him at all.

“I want your boyfriend out of the picture, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? You used to love it. Loved it when I was fucking you hard. Maybe we could go another round, for old time’s sake.”

I whimper at the thought, knowing he probably will, but I would rather die than have him inside of me.

“Don’t fucking touch her, asshole,” Holly yells out.

“Don’t worry, Holly. You can watch, then you’ll be next.”

“Don’t,” I plead with him. “You can have me, but please don’t touch her,” I say, giving myself to him. I couldn’t bear to know he touched her. Fuck, this situation is just getting worse. I don’t know how we are going to get out of it.

“Don’t sound so disgusted by it, Kadence. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

“You’re a piece of shit, asshole,” I say, trying to calm my panic. I know I shouldn’t be goading him, but disgust courses through me, and I can’t hold my tongue. I won’t allow him to break me.

“You’re right, babe,” he agrees, a smile now replacing his disappointed scowl. He looks over to where Holly sits up against the wall. The same guy she fought with earlier stands above her, a gun pointed at her head.

“Zane, this has nothing to do with Holly.” I try to hide the fear in my voice, but think I fail when he looks back at me.

“Oh, I know.” He smiles his evil smile. “This is all about you and that asshole you’ve been seeing. He needs to be gone and what better way to make him listen.”

“This won’t change anything, Zane. He’ll still fight you every step of the way,” I try to get him to see. “Hurting me or killing me won’t get him to step down.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I set it up. Make it look like that the Mayhems did this and all I’ll have to do is sit back and watch the fucking show.” He laughs like he has completely lost his mind.

“You’re crazy,” I tell him, knowing there is no way we are getting out of this; the man has gone nuts.

“I’ll tell you what’s crazy. Gunner can’t fucking get his trade in this shit town ‘cause your fucking boyfriend has some sort of truce. Fuck that. Fuck the truce. We’ve been trying for years to get a foot up on him, and our luck changed when your fucking dumbass started sucking his cock,” he sneers. “Tell me, Kadence. Do you like the way he fucks you?”

I don’t answer his question, afraid of the outcome, afraid of his reaction.

“ANSWER ME, YOU WHORE!” he screams, striking me across the face with his gun again. The black stars are back, and I fight desperately to push them away. I can’t pass out again. I can’t leave Holly alone.

“Yes, Zane,” I answer, looking him straight in the eye. He nods, turning his body toward Holly's direction. The loud bang rings in my ears, my eyes glued to Holly’s form in front of me, red blood seeping from the bullet hole in her stomach. Her dazed stare looks back at me.

“Holly!” I scream, trying to stand. Oh, God, Holly. I try to move to her, to break free. Oh, God, no, no, no.

“Don’t, Kadence, or she gets one in the head.” Zane forces me back to my knees.

I try to fight the internal battle of wanting to fight, but his grip is painfully tight in my hair.

“I hate you,” I spit out past the tears falling, knowing Holly is so close to me, yet I can’t get to her. He just shot her. What’s going to happen to me?

“Oh, Kadence, I hate you too. Didn’t you know? That’s why I left you in the house to burn,” he confesses, smiling down at me. I cry harder as the sounds of Holly’s gasps come from the side.

“Which is why I can’t wait to end this bullshit once and for all.” I don’t see the movement in Zane’s hand until a small black barrel stares at me two inches from my face. I briefly see the outline of his finger, lightly touching the trigger. The darkness of that small black hole drags my eyes away. I want to fight him, reach up, and push it out of his hands so I can go to Holly.

“Don’t even think about it, Kadence,” he warns like he can see my thoughts.

Everything in the small space around me fades; my best friend lying shot next to me, the pain in my chest gone. Everything stops for a moment. My eyes sting, begging me to blink, but for the life of me, I’m stuck, fascinated by the hollow shape staring back at me.

Memories of my mom and dad flash before me like a playback on an old movie reel. Holly and I on our first day of college, the day Zane got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife, the fire that changed my life. Each significant moment plays like a movie before my eyes, then fades fast when Nix’s voice breaks through. His gravelly voice, telling me to get on his damn bike. Z’s smiling face is staring at me as I hold on to his dad’s hand.

The small black hole moves forward, the coldness of the metal meeting my forehead. I close my eyes, willing to see Nix and Z again, my mind knowing that they are the last people I want to see. I don’t hear the words coming from Zane. They bleed into each other. I focus solely on remembering the touch of Nix’s hands, the taste of his lips.

I’m going to die, and I’m never going to see him again.

My breathing comes back, dragging and forcing air into my lungs, the encompassing pain pulling me from the haze. A bone-chilling roar, followed by a loud thud has me twisting away. A force like no other pushes me down, and a heaviness falls over me. Before my back hits the solid ground, the darkness takes me.

26

NIX

“TELL me you got a fuckin’ hit on him,” I roar down my cell. The pain in my chest feels akin to someone slamming into me, reaching in and tearing me apart. I don’t know what will kill me first: the blinding rage that’s searing through my heart or the paralyzing fear that she’s been hurt. The fury that’s building inside of me shows no signs of calming anytime soon.

I got a call an hour ago. The last thing I ever expected to hear was that Gunner and his men took Kadence and Holly. I’m seething, and I’m trying to remind myself to stay levelheaded, but the unknown is worse than the truth. He could be doing who knows what to her and I’m still fucking an hour away helpless. Sy got the call from Holly’s cell, the muffled sound of a struggle, and then Holly trying to relay what was happening in the back of the van. He lost contact with her five minutes ago, and every second that's ticked by is the second that I’m left wondering in the dark.

Nothing can happen to her. Nothing. It will kill me.

“Mayhems are on board and putting a recon team together as we speak. We’ve narrowed it down to an old farmhouse an hour away. Jesse and I are on our way now.” Sy sounds calm and collected, but I detect the controlled anger he’s keeping at bay. Brooks was taken off guard when he was knocked over the head waiting for Kadence and Holly, and now Zane has her. I shouldn’t have thought for a second leaving her was smart. My head messed up with Z and Addison’s shit, I left Kadence vulnerable and open to an attack. I fucking knew Zane would pull this shit. He’s so far up Gunner’s ass I’m not surprised when he found out Kadence was dating the enemy, he moved in and took his play. Only now he’s gone too far. I don’t give a fuck about what side of the law the MC lives on; the motherfucker is dead.

“Keep me posted, and Sy?”

“Yeah, boss, you don’t have to tell me.” He cuts me off before I say it. I know he’s feelin’ me. I know I’m not gonna get back in time. It’s on Sy, Jesse and the Warriors of Mayhem. I just pray the fuckers pull through for us. I want the asshole fucking dead. I survived losing my mom. I’m not sure if I’ll survive losing Kadence.

I WATCH the fluorescent light flicker above me, the buzzing sounds replacing the bright light, before switching back into the full light only to repeat all over again. I look around at my family and my friends, all gathered in the waiting room by my side. My mind won’t still, racing through thought after thought.

How much fucking longer?

Sy stands near the double doors, his back against the wall. Blood matter covers the front of his shirt and cut. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since going over the details when I first made it to the hospital. He’s fighting some serious rage behind his eyes. I didn’t push him; the tension rolling off him is telling me he’s about to snap.

Brooks and Jesse sit watching the muted TV. After only just leaving the emergency room himself with ten stiches at the back of the head, I told Brooks to go home, but he still refuses. He won’t leave until he knows they are okay.

Jesse’s leg bounces up and down, impatient to hear the news. He filled me in on what Sy couldn’t say. After receiving the call that the Warriors of Mayhem had found where the girls were being held, they floored it to meet them. After T and his boys took out the two assholes guarding the perimeter, Sy took Zane, while Jesse took out the other fuckhead holding Holly. I know he is dealing with some serious shit over there, probably replaying the fact he just killed another person, but I don’t doubt he doesn’t regret it. The asshole had it coming, and knowing that Holly is fighting for her life, we all know those assholes deserve more.

I look over to where Beau sits on the one side of Z, with my pops on the other.

“Will Kadence be okay?” Z asks when my eyes go to him. I don’t miss the stagger in his question, my strong boy trying to hold it together. I told Pops to stay behind, but the old bastard didn’t listen. I’m glad he’s here. After spending the last three nights with him, he’s come to know Kadence through me constantly talking about her. I know our relationship was strained after losing Mom, but after he turned his patch in and allowed the club repair, we were able to build it back. I don’t get to see him as often as I like now that he lives out at the lake house still mourning my mom. Z and I were on our last night away, both impatient to get home to Kadence. The hilarious yet smart-ass shit she pulls with me has become the highlight of my day. The way she’s shown nothing but compassion to my son, nurturing him through the fallout with his mom, only makes me fall in love with her more.

While having Kadence around us has been healing for Z, I needed to be able to make sure he wasn’t just okay because of her, because of us. I wanted to be right with him. In order to do that, I had to do it away from Kadence. She consumes me and takes all my attention. It’s like my body is drawn to hers. Getting away for a few nights helped me separate myself from that and focus solely on Z. We talked through everything that was concerning me; where his head was at and where we are going from here. I wanted to make sure Z was okay with being with me full time, and see how he was handling the thought of not having his mom in his life. He seems to be accepting it for what it is, knowing it’s not his fault. I can only hope that Addison doesn’t fight me on custody.

A large bang pulls me from my thoughts. Looking up I see an older man slam his fist down on the nurses’ station. A small petite woman tries to calm him, her dark hair pulled back from her face. Her features are strikingly similar to Kadence's. Shit, these are her parents.

It’s not how I expected to meet them, especially here tonight. The small woman ushers the larger man to the waiting chairs, when the nurse just shakes her head no. I'm not sure what to do in this situation. Should I go over there? Introduce myself to them? I’m not even sure she’s told them about me. Hell, I only told Pops about her this week. My decision is made for me when the doctor walks out through the doors. Sy pushes off the wall coming forward to meet the older man. “Kadence Turner’s family?” he calls out. I look to the older couple as we both walk to the waiting doctor.

“Who are you?” the old man questions, looking around us as all the brothers move in. His eyes zero in on me.

“Nix,” I tell him, holding my hand out to him. He looks at it, not sure if he should trust me.

“You with my daughter when her asshole ex hurt her?”

“No sir, but we sure as hell made sure the asshole paid." The burning rage builds back up again, thoughts of what Sy told me he witnessed fill my head. If Sy hadn’t been there, I don’t want to think about what would have happened to her. The old man holds my gaze, nodding slightly before taking my hand and shaking it tightly.

“How is she, Doc?” He turns his attention back to the Doctor.

“Well, Miss Turner suffered a broken rib which caused a traumatic pneumothorax.”

"What the hell does that mean?" I bark out, interrupting him and thinking the worst. I feel one of my brothers grab my shoulder, trying to calm me. I don’t want to be calm. I wanna fucking see her.

"In layman's terms, a collapsed lung. We've had to drain some of the excess air and now we are just monitoring to make sure that she doesn’t need surgery.

"Surgery?" I snap again, fear now replacing my anger.

"Will she be okay?" her mom softly asks beside me, while reaching out for my hand. I don’t know what to do, so I just hold it in mine. The move nearly floors me, but at the same time comforts me.

"She will be, but she will need to stay in for a few nights for observation, just to make sure that lung doesn't collapse again.”

"Okay," Mr. Turner nods, taking in the news while I quietly shake in rage.

"She also suffered an injury with her larynx. It will cause some trouble swallowing for the next day or two and her voice will be hoarse, but I must warn you, the marks on her neck are somewhat confronting. She was very lucky. Things could have been a lot worse,” he adds, noting something down on his clipboard as his pager beeps from his pocket.

“Can we see her?” I ask, my body humming in need to see her with my own eyes, to touch her with my hands.

“She’s still in recovery, but will be up in her room shortly. A nurse will come down to get you,” he informs us before walking back through the same doors he came out of. Kadence’s mother squeezes my hand once, and then lets go, visibly relaxing next to her husband.

Her father nods at me and directs his wife over to the waiting chairs.

“Pops, I’m gonna need you to take Z home,” I say, coming to sit next to him.

“Dad, I wanna see Kadence,” Z interrupts.

“I know you do, bud, but she is gonna be real tired. We can come back in the morning to see her.” He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. “I’ll let her know you wanted to see her, okay?” He nods, satisfied for now.

“Nix?” Mrs. Turner comes to sit next to me.

“Yeah?” I reply. I honestly don’t know what to do in these sorts of situations. The last time I did a ‘meet the parents,' I was eighteen and didn’t give a fuck if they liked me or not.

“Kadence was only telling me about you this afternoon,” she smiles a sad smile. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this.”

“Me too,” I agree, wishing Kadence was here for the first meet. I feel like this is some important shit and I’m gonna mess it up.

“Nix?” a nurse calls from the double doors.

“Here.” I stand at my name being called.

“Kadence is asking for you.” The small blonde holds the door open, waiting for me to follow her. I smile back at Kadence’s mom. I feel like I should let them go in before me, let them see their daughter, but the urge isn’t strong enough. I just need to see her.

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” I tell them as Mr. Turner comes to stand by his wife's side.

“Fuck that, I’m goin’ in boy.” Mr. Turner booms, shaking his head.

“Frank,” his wife scolds him, slapping his arm. Jesus, you can see where Kadence gets her quirks.

“Oh, please, Jolene. If he’s any type of man, he’d understand my need to see my girl.” I nod, knowing he’s right. No fucking way would I not want to see my daughter after someone attacked her.

“Of course,” I agree, not wanting to piss her father off, but if the nurse says one at a time, I’m not gonna fucking stay back. Telling the guys I’ll be back, we walk through the doors, passing room after room. My fingers itch to touch her soft skin, to see for myself that she is okay.

The nurse stops us at the door, letting us walk past her into the darkened room.

“Oh, baby girl.” Frank's rough voice echoes around the room.

My eyes find hers as I walk through the door. A low guttural sound erupts from deep within, building each second my eyes run over her messed-up face.

“I wish I got to fuckin’ kill him,” I say, coming to stand on the opposite side to where her parents stand. Her eyes haven’t left mine since they locked on to me.

“He’s dead?” she asks. Her voice doesn't sound like hers. I nod and watch her body relax. I can’t speak. I can’t even touch her. I’m stuck, my body vibrating with an untapped rage.

“Oh, honey,” her mom leans down closer and lightly brushes some hair off her forehead. Her black eye is now fully visible. My pulse quickens in response.

“I’m okay, Mom,” she rasps. The tiny movement sends pain across her face. I follow my natural instinct to reach out and grasp her small hand in mine. Her hand responds, squeezing me back.

Standing closer to her, I can see the busted lip held together by a small stitch. Her delicate neck bruised from the asshole's hands. Seeing her lying in bed with her beautiful face battered and the thumbprint shaped bruises covering her neck, I realize I could have just as easily lost her.

“How’s Holly?” she asks.

“Still in surgery,” I answer. It doesn’t look good for Holly, but I don’t want to tell her that. She looks so lost, lying there, not the strong woman, I know.

“Whatever you got goin’ on in your head, get it out.” I squeeze her hand. I can see the guilt she holds playing out all over her face.

“It’s my fault, Nix,” she cries softly, a tear falling. I knew she would take it on her shoulders, knew she would feel guilty.

“It’s not your fault.” I pull the chair up beside the bed. “It was that asshole’s, so quit your bullshit blame game, or I’m gonna have to take you over my knee, woman,” I finish quietly.

“Oh, I like him,” her mom giggles.

Her dad growls

Obviously, I wasn’t so quiet.

“Geez, Nix, my parents are in the same room,” she states the obvious, shaking her head, wincing at the movement.

“I don’t give a shit. I'm not sittin’ here watchin’ you go inside your head over some seriously fucked-up shit your ex pulled. The fucker is lucky Sy put the bullet in him ‘cause I would have to kill him with my bare hands for layin’ a finger on you,” I tell her.

“Calm down, Nix,” she says.

“Kadence, I don’t think you get just how crazy I have been waitin’ to see you. Knowin’ that asshole had you for two hours, doing who knows what, who knows where… Jesus, Kadence, I can’t even comprehend the heaviness in my heart right now.”

“Well then, I’m glad he’s dead. You wouldn’t be any good to me if you were in jail,” she states, staring back at me. Even in a hospital bed, the woman wants to argue with me, test me. I hold her gaze, our eyes locked in a stare off, but she breaks it, looking over at her mom.

“You didn’t have to come, guys.”

“Like hell we didn’t,” her dad barks out beside her mom. I smile. I’m beginning to like the guy. He speaks my language.

“Of course we did, Kadence. Your father was racing to the car before I even hung up the call from the hospital. Can we get you anything while we’re here?” She begins fussing over her. My heart aches watching it, remembering my mom being the same.

“I’m good, Mom, but you should get some rest. It's the middle of the night.”

“I know, honey. We just wanted to see you. Make sure you’re all right. We’ll be back first thing. If you want to do up a list, we can go pick up your stuff and take it back to our house, for when you’re ready to come home.”

“That won't be necessary,” I tell them straight up. They all look over to me.

“Nix,” Kadence begins before I cut her off.

“No, Kadence, this one thing I’m not budgin’ on. You’re stayin’ with me. Respect to your mom and dad, babe, but you're with me; that makes you my responsibility. I look after what’s mine.”

“Nix, I’m not a possession to claim. I can get Mom and Dad to look after me. You have Z.”

“Like hell, you're not. You're my woman, one of the most important people in my life. You’re mine and it’s killin’ me seein’ you in this bed. I promise you, Kadence, this won't happen again. I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight.” She rolls her eyes and tries to hide her pleasure at me claiming her in front of her parents.

“Quit sassin’ your man, darlin'. If he’s a good man, he’ll look after his woman,” her dad orders, looking over at me.

“He is a good man, Daddy,” Kadence quietly replies, looking up at me.

“I know, baby girl. I can already tell,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“I’m sorry, but your time is up.” The young nurse from earlier comes in checking Kadence’s chart.

“We’ll be back tomorrow morning.” Her mom leans down kissing her, while her dad comes around to where I sit. I stand when he stops in front of me.

“Good to meet you, Nix.” Offering me his hand, I take it in mine. He moves forward into my space, his voice lowered, “I don’t have to remind you that she’s my only girl, and we’ve already been through a world of pain. You mess with her, you’re messing with me.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I tell him, looking him in the eye. I have no intention of messing with Kadence. This week has proven to me just how much I want her in my life. He nods, letting my hand go and stepping back.

Mrs. Turner steps forward. Her small arms come around me. She stands at the same height as Kadence. “Look after her,” I hear her say quietly before she pulls back. It’s not a question, more a request, one I very much plan on doing. With a final goodbye, they leave us alone, following the nurse out.

Leaning down, I gently kiss her over her eye. She holds on strong, the pain and anguish kept at bay until her parents leave the room. Her body slightly shakes the moment the door latches, unraveling in front of me.

“I swear, Kadence, I'm nearly comin’ out of my skin seeing his marks on you and watchin’ you break.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries harder, tying to wipe at her swollen face.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be fine," I tell her, wiping at her tears with a tissue.

“Will you find out about Holly for me?” She looks up, concerned for her friend.

“I will,” I promise, still holding onto her hand tightly. I want to climb into the bed with her, crawl inside of her, and take the pain she’s feeling away, but I know that I can’t. I can barely touch her without the fear of hurting her.

“Z, Pops and the boys are in the waitin’ room,” I let her know. I want her to know Z is here for her; that all the boys are worried about her.

“Z’s out there?” she says shocked while trying to sit up. “How was your time away? Is Z okay?” she fires off, and her response warms me. This woman owns my heart. Lying in a hospital bed, surviving what she just did, and she’s worrying about my son. Fuck, I love her.

“He missed you,” I tell her the truth. “And quit tryin’ to move. You have a broken rib.”

“He did?” she ignores my concern.

I nod, smiling down at her. “Wanted to come home early so he could have you make him the lasagna dish you served him last week.”

“I missed him too. I missed you both like crazy,” she whispers, looking unsure. She’s only saying what I’m thinking. As much as I needed to be away with Z, I still missed her, wished every night I could hold her in my arms.

I reach out and run my finger along her busted lip. “I missed you, too. Missed you so fuckin’ bad.”

She nods. A tear slips from her eye and I wipe it away with my thumb.

“I need to say goodbye to Z and let Pops know I’m gonna stay. I'll be back,” I tell her.

She protests, telling me there is no point because they won't let me stay.

“Don’t care. I’ll sleep outside your door,” I state. “I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight, Kadence.” I won't. It's my promise. With Zane dead, who knows what Gunner will retaliate with. I don’t trust the fucker or anyone else for that matter.

“Sir?” The young nurse interrupts, cutting Kadence off from arguing with me anymore. “You need to leave,” she insists.

“Goin’ now and not ‘cause you told me to. Fair warnin’, I will be back shortly. I'm not leavin’ her side. You need to find whoever is responsible for that process and let them know.” Her eyes bug out, like she’s frightened by my voice or the tone of it. My deep rumble always helps to get my point across with fewer arguments.

“Quit your bossiness, Nix. You’re scaring the poor girl,” Kadence calls over my shoulder.

“Just givin’ the woman some warnin’. I’m coming back and I’m gonna be in this room,” I warn them, looking back and forth. The nurse nods, probably not sure she wants to argue with me. Kadence rolls her eyes; the action makes me smile and thankful she’s still here.

Tonight could have gone a lot worse. The truth of that lays in the fate of Holly, right now still in surgery fighting for her life. In my opinion, Zane fucking Edwards got off way too easy. I’m not sure a bullet in the head will ever make up for beating my woman, but Kadence is right; sitting in jail wouldn’t help her or Z. I know I made that vow five years ago to stay clean and keep on the correct side of the law, but if anyone so much as tries anything again, that promise will be broken.

27

KADENCE

THE DULL ACHE in my side stirs me. The distinct smell of antiseptic burns my nostrils. The annoying beep of the machines beside me breaks through, bringing me out of sleep and back to my hospital room. The door pushes open and the same nurse who was here the night before last walks in.

“Do you ever leave this hospital?” I ask, smiling at her. My voice is starting to feel slightly better, but still croaks on certain words. She shakes her head at me. Her blonde, short hair is tucked behind one ear showing off her cute face. The blues of her eyes shine brightly when they meet with mine.

“Just started my third shift of a five-day roster,” she groans, and I feel her pain. I’m not sure who has it worse, me with a broken rib, or her dealing with patients and long shifts.

“I don’t envy you,” I say as she comes to the end of the bed and picks up my chart.

“How’s the pain?” she asks, taking notes down on the folder.

“I feel a lot better today,” I tell her, trying to sit up with as little pain as possible.

“Did Nix come back last night?” I ask, wondering where he is.

“If you mean the sexy-as-sin man who has been demanding and overbearing since you got here? Then yes, he’s out in the waiting room.”

“Oh, God, he doesn’t know when to stop,” I cry out. The insufferable man makes my heart stop, my mind go crazy and still manages to make me smile.

“Going by that smile, I’d say you’re not bothered if he never stopped?”

If she only knew.

“I wouldn’t either,” she continues before I can answer her. “I just ran into him and a whole lot of male hotness. They nearly gave Jan, at the nurses’ station, a heart attack. All that leather is dangerous.”

I smile at her description of the Knights Rebels. Dangerous is an understatement.

“Have you heard any news about my friend?” I ask, hoping she has something more to tell me. No one is saying much. I know Holly just came out of her second surgery last night, but I can’t get a solid answer if she is going to survive. The thought that she might not live is tearing me up. I don’t think I will ever cope if she doesn’t pull through.

“She’s going to be okay. She woke up in the middle of the night.” She delivers the news I’ve been so desperate to hear.

Holly has had two surgeries in the last twenty-four hours. One to take out the bullet Zane put in her and the second to relieve a second bleed. She was rushed down last night for emergency surgery. If Sy and Jesse hadn’t come to save us when they did, I don’t think we would have survived.

The crack and thud of the bullet going through Zane and his body landing on me were the last things I remember. It took me a few minutes to come to with Jesse kneeling over me. I tried to get to Holly, but the pain in my chest was too unbearable. I felt like I was drawing in razor blades. I just remember Holly’s body lying in a pool of her own blood across from me, Sy working her chest trying to make it start again.

“Don’t you fucking die.” His words still ring in my ears as he yelled them repeatedly. The light and sounds of emergency services drowned out by those four words replaying over and over. “Don’t you fucking die.”

I know Nix doesn’t want me to blame myself with what happened, but I can't help but feel responsible. Zane was my crazy ex. I forced her out that night and it all comes back to me.

“You’re awake.” Nix’s voice coming from the door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Hey,” I say, watching as he nods to the shy nurse as she leaves us alone.

“I brought some people who wanted to see you,” Nix announces, moving aside to let Z, Jesse, Sy, Brooks, Beau and an older-looking man past. Oh, God, just seeing their faces, sends a runaway tear down my face.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Jesse comes to me first, leaning down for a soft kiss to my cheek, wiping my tear with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he shakes his head.

I nod, trying so hard not to break down in front of them all. I know they have wanted to see me, but with the club on lockdown and all Nix’s attention on me, they’ve had to keep things running smoothly. In the short time that I’ve known these men, they've come to mean so much to me. Jesse helping me through my darkest hours after the fire. Brooks being the big brother I’ve always wanted. Sy, my savior, and Beau, well, Beau is still pissed about me sneaking out, but still.

“Hey, Jesse," my voice croaks from the tears stuck in the back of my throat, causing Jesse to flinch.

He moves back, allowing Brooks to approach next, his hand coming to mine squeezing it lightly.

“Hey, doll, you doing okay?”

“I’m good. How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” he dismisses my concern. “I’m so sorry,” he leans in and whispers.

“Don’t,” I say, knowing he will be feeling bad for what happened. He holds my stare, his eyes fighting with wanting to argue, but doesn’t.

Beau pulls up a chair next to me. He smiles slightly, his dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. “Still the prettiest thing I’ve seen,” he mutters, reaching out to grab my hand. Even though Beau and I started off on the wrong foot, I’ve come to see what a great guy he is. He’s loyal and fiercely protective of his club, but most of all, he’s Nix’s best friend. They have been through everything together.

“Thanks, Beau.” He nods, his eyes no longer holding that calculating stare he likes to give me. “Am I forgiven?” I ask hopeful. I don’t think I can handle him acting indifferent to me, when I’m becoming so close to the rest of the guys.

“Yeah, we’re cool, but if you pull that shit again, I will have to spank your ass.” I gulp down my gasp. He wouldn’t?

“Watch it, brother,” Nix rumbles from the end of the bed, as Beau starts laughing, I don’t know where to look. I feel the heat of my blush break out over my cheeks, the men all looking at me. Shit. I focus my eyes on Z, who stands awkwardly at the end of the bed next to his dad.

“Hey, Z,” I smile at him, reaching my hand out for his. He looks so unsure. His father nudges him forward, telling him he won't hurt me. He steps closer, slowly making his way to me. This little man has worked his way into my heart, and seeing him affected by what happened to me breaks me. He finally comes forward, close enough for me to touch. “It’s okay, Z. You can't hurt me,” I tell him. He takes my hand, coming to stand next to me. “How was the lake house?” I ask, trying to keep everything normal.

“It was good. Dad, Pops and I did some fishing on the lake.”

“Cool. You catch anything?” I continue asking questions, wanting him to be comfortable.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Just Pops did. Are you okay?” He softly questions, his eyes filled with concern. His big heart is more worried about me than talking about his time away.

This boy melts me.

“I am now that you’re here,” I tell him and watch as the smile spreads across his face. “I missed you this week,” I confess, hoping he gets that I feel the same way as he does.

His smile brightens more, filling me with light. “We missed you too. We were coming home early to see you. It didn't take too much to persuade Dad.” I laugh, the sound getting caught in my swollen throat. Beau reaches for my water, handing it to me to help soothe the burn. Z shows concern again. His smile now gone, worry lines currently replace it. All the guys’ faces are filled with anxiety, anger and even rage.

“Hey, I promise I’m okay,” I tell them all, looking into each of their eyes. They don’t look convinced, their tight nods telling me they won't push. My eyes connect with the older man who I now recognize as Nix’s dad. He smiles then comes forward.

“Hello, beautiful girl, hate seein’ you in this bed, but I’m glad I finally get to meet you. Between my son talking my ear off and Z telling me all about your baking, I was feeling a little left out.”

I smile at his attempt to make me feel comfortable. “Thank you for looking after them, Mr. Knight.”

“Call me Red, or Pops, but either way, please don’t call me Mr. Knight.” I laugh and nod my head. He pulls back to stand next to Sy against the wall.

“Hey, Sy,” I awkwardly wave. He nods, and then looks over at Nix, a silent request that has him moving everyone out of the room. Before I get to say goodbye to them all, the nurse comes back in, topping up my drip. Jesse notices the nurse first and his cheeky persona comes out to play.

“Can you escort me out, nurse?” He looks down at her chest, slowly moving his eyes to the rectangle nametag, “Nurse Bell?” He smiles his panty-dropping smile. I can see the shade of crimson that flashes down her face from the bed. The poor girl doesn’t know what’s hit her with the massive flirt. She shakes her head, letting him know she won’t before hightailing it out of there so fast, I wonder if she was even in here in the first place.

“Play nice, Jesse,” I warn, as he follows closely behind her. He waves me off, nowhere near ready to play nice.

Brooks and Beau go next, telling Nix they'll meet him later at the clubhouse. Z leans in and kisses my cheek, telling me to hurry up and come home. I promise I’ll try my hardest to get better and watch him leave with his Pops.

“How was your sleep?” Nix takes Beau’s vacated seat next to me, holding my hand.

“As good as one can with a broken rib,” I tell him. Looking across the room, I see Sy still standing to the side, quietly taking everything in.

“How are you doing, Sy?”

“Been better. Not as bad as you.” He winces like he just said the wrong thing.

“Thank you,” I tell him, knowing it’s nowhere near enough.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t get there sooner,” he says, a hard gaze coming over his face.

“You saved my life,” I choke out. “Saved Holly’s life.” At the mention of Holly’s name, he slumps back.

“I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Sy, you saved us. You need to understand that. This isn’t on you. Words won't ever be enough, Sy,” I tell him, watching as he nods, not needing to say anything. He pushes off the wall and walks to the bed.

“I wish I got there sooner. Wish I could take it all back.” He leans in kissing my temple. Before I can reply, he promptly turns and leaves Nix and me alone. Turning back to face Nix, I see his concern for his friend written all over his face.

“Will he be okay?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

I nod, knowing that I trust that he will. He won’t let anything happen to his brothers. “Have you come to take me home?” I ask, hoping to get out of here. If I have to stay in any longer, I’m going to scream.

“Not yet, babe, you got one more night. Then you’ll be free.” I pout at the thought of another night here. I can’t even scream; my lungs, chest, and sides hurt too much.

“Well, can you at least take me to Holly?” I ask hopeful.

Nix clears his throat, an uncertainty crosses his face.

“Umm, Holly’s not takin’ visitors,” he informs me, shifting in his chair.

“What do you mean she’s not taking visitors?”

“Her brother’s guardin’ the door. No one's allowed in.”

“Well, he has to let me in,” I argue back, certain he will be fine with me seeing her.

“Babe.”

“Don’t babe me, Nix. She is my best friend. I'm not leaving her alone in this. Take me to her room,” I demand. Panic starts to rise. I know Holly. I know she won't want me turned away.

“Okay, Kadence, just calm down.” He moves forward, pushing the button to call for the nurse.

I need to see her, need to know she doesn’t blame me for what happened, even though I blame myself.

FIVE MINUTES LATER, Nix is wheeling me down to Holly’s room, my drip still attached to the pole extending from my wheelchair. Bell came when Nix pressed the nurse call button, and after seeing me in my crying mess, agreed to organize a wheelchair. Holly’s parents stand outside in the hall with their eldest son, Sam.

“Oh, Kadence.” Holly’s mom comes rushing forward to me. The tears come harder, knowing it’s not just my life affected; they too hurt because of me, because of Zane.

“Hey, Mrs. McAdams.” She barely contains the gasp when she hears my voice and sees my injuries up close. I haven’t looked in the mirror, but the look on her face shows me it's not great. Geez, the boys didn’t even flinch. Much.

“How is she?”

“Not good, dear,” she tells me, worry etched in her brow.

“Can I see her?”

“No!” Holly’s older brother yells out, stepping away from the door.

“Sam,” his mother scolds him.

“No, Mom, if it wasn’t for Kadence, this never would have happened.” I drag in a sharp breath at his words, while Nix steps up beside the wheelchair.

“Watch yourself.” The threat is louder than his voice. “I know you mean somethin’ to my girl, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here, that you’re just messed up with your sister in that room. You’re not thinkin’ straight, but you don’t get to put this shit on her,” Nix tells him.

“Like fuck I don’t,” Sam argues back, stepping forward into Nix’s space. Sam is tall like Nix, but lacks the build. However, the fire burning behind his eyes suggests he wouldn’t care if he was up against the Hulk; he just wants to protect Holly. “Her ex shot her. She lost the baby,” he chokes out.

My breath stops for a moment. The thumping sound in my ears rings loudly, blocking everything around me. My heart feels like someone just twisted it out of my chest.

“What?” the word barely comes out as I push it past the bile rising in my throat.

“The baby,” he repeats. “You didn’t know?” He asks incredulously.

Is this why she has been acting strange the last three weeks? I knew something was up, but this?

“Baby?” I choke the word foreign to my lips.

“She was seven weeks along,” Holly’s mom cries softly beside me. “She only just found out. I only just found out,” she adds.

I can’t believe Holly didn’t tell me; that she kept it from me. I know Holly likes to date, but I also know she is very careful. Who is the father? Does she know? Is that why she didn’t tell me?

“Let me in, Sam,” I demand, the urge to see her growing with every question my head keeps throwing out.

“No, she doesn’t want to see you.”

“Bullshit,” I say, not believing the lie.

“Kadence, she won’t see anyone,” he sighs, his features drained. “You need to give her time.”

“No, I’m not leaving. She was with me every step of the way when I needed her. You know she’s not thinking straight. She needs me, Sam. Don’t make me let her down,” I plead. If anyone knows just how much Holly means to me, it’s Sam. He lived through the nightmares of me pushing everyone away. Holly is my person. There is no way in this world I'm going without letting her know I’m here. I won’t leave her alone. He must see through my plea, the agony on my face. My best friend is mourning the loss of a child alone and only twenty feet away from me

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He steps aside, letting Nix push me forward.

“Go away,” Holly’s voice calls out as soon as Nix opens the door, and pushes me into the darkened room.

“No,” I simply say. I’ve been in this situation before; the realness of it so raw, only this time we’re on opposite sides.

“Kadence, I don’t want to talk,” she snaps as Nix pushes me closer to her bed. Leaning down, he brushes his lips to my temple. “I’ll just be outside the door.” I nod, letting him know I’ll be fine.

“Fuck off, Kadence,” Holly sneers.

“I’m not going anywhere, Holly,” I calmly tell her, even though I can feel her pull away.

“Holly,” I begin, ready to apologize, wanting her to see that if I could take it away, I would.

“Kadence, I don’t want to talk about it,” she warns; her cool and angry state slowly starts to slip.

“That’s okay, Holly. We don’t have to talk, but I’m not leaving you, babe, so shut up and let me be here for you.” She looks over at me, her eyes empty. It stings my eyes and burns my throat that she looks broken, so defeated. A runaway tear rolls down her face, the slow descent followed by another.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Her voice breaks as the first, raw sob breaks free.

“It’s okay, Holly.” I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it. I hold back the urge to cry out at the injustice of it, the ugliness that I’ve brought into her life. I need to be strong, for her, for me.

“No, it’s not. Everything is fucked, Kadence.” Her tears become uncontrollable as her sobs take over her body. The pain and devastation of what she’s lost, sinks in all around us in the darkness of her hospital room.

“Do you remember when I was laying in the hospital after that last surgery?” I ask. “I was broken and feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to deal with anyone looking at me?” She nods, remembering that dark time, her eyes looking heavier and heavier.

“You climbed into my bed, and you held me and didn’t let go, and then you said something to me that I would never forget. You told me, ‘Kadence, everything is going to be okay, just not today.’” She shakes her head no, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, like it will stop the words from coming. “You were right, Holly.” I hold back the lump building in my throat, watching her deny my words.

“You’re going to be okay, Holly. Just not today.” A sob escapes her, and I can’t help but follow her into a state of distress. The nurse comes in, trying to calm her as she breaks down. I want to climb into bed with her, hold her, and take away the devastation she is living, but I can’t. Instead, I sit here helpless and watch them as they administer something into her drip.

I hold my best friend’s hand, the only comfort I can give her as I watch her body fight the pull of the darkness. I don’t let go. I don’t leave her alone, knowing she would do it for me, has done it for me. And I do it knowing those words she once told me hold more truth than I’ve ever known: she’s going to be okay. We both are.

28

NIX

“I WANT him fuckin’ found and I want him dead,” I calmly tell the table of my closest brothers and my dad. Beau sits to my left and Jesse to my right.

“You sure about this, Prez?” Jesse asks.

“About as sure as I fuckin’ know Kadence is in that hospital for another night. Her best friend shot,” I shout. I know Jesse is only looking out for me, but Gunner Jamieson is dead, preferably by my hands. I don’t give a fuck what I have to do. The fucker is mine.

After learning about Holly and the baby, something broke in me. I thought Kadence was gonna come back okay, but knowing what I know, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.

“Might have a problem with T,” Beau speaks up. “He’s got his markers on him. He might get him first.”

“Well, make sure he doesn’t,” I spit. The fucker deserves to die. I don’t tell the boys Holly’s situation. Kadence made me promise to keep it quiet, but I know if they knew, they wouldn’t be sitting here trying to get me to calm down.

“Fuck,” Beau curses under his breath, knowing I won’t stop until he’s found.

“Think about this, Nix,” Brooks says, trying to reason with me. The problem is I’ve lost all reasoning. I lost it all when I watched my girl mourn with her best friend.

“Think about the situation,” he continues.

“Brooks,” I warn, cutting him off. “How would you feel if some asshole put his hands on Kelly and nearly strangled her to death?”

“I get you, brother. I do, but we have to be smart. All that hard work getting us clean will be for nothing. Think about Z,” he pushes.

“I am fuckin’ thinkin’ about Z,” I shout out across the room.

“I’ve got no problem doing it,” Sy says, sitting next to Beau. We all look to him.

“No,” I tell him

“Why the fuck not? You got Kadence and Z to worry about. I’ve got no one.”

“I want him.”

“It’s not about that, Nix,” Brooks tries again. “Leave it to T.”

“Fuck T,” Sy’s deep voice booms. “Look where that got us.”

“I don’t like this,” Jesse pipes up.

“Me either,” Brooks adds.

I can see this going around in circles. Jesse and Sy start arguing, Brooks shaking his head.

“Fuck, everyone, calm down.” My pops finally speaks up and the room falls silent as the old Prez’s voice echoes around the clubhouse. "Nix. You're not thinking straight. Your head is fucked up with seeing Kadence. I get it. I’ve lived it, but if this were about one of the guys, you would be looking at it differently. You’ve got this shit with Addison and Z. You can’t be getting yourself into a situation that will come back on you. Kadence is coming home tomorrow. You need to be here for her. Don’t make the same mistakes as I did.” He speaks directly to me, his tone telling me to get my head out of my ass. I know what he is saying is true, but this untapped rage is spurring me on. The last time I felt like this was when my mother was killed.

“I’ll fucking do it,” Sy says again.

“No one is fucking doing anything,” Brooks barks. “This club has seen too much shit. I’m not gonna sit down and watch you walk down a path that you fuckin’ worked so hard to get away from. Think about it, Nix. Give T time to sort this out.”

I know what they are saying is true; this isn’t who we are, what I am, but if we don’t get a handle on Gunner, he will only try again.

“Fuck.” I run my hands over my face, frustrated. “Fine, I’ll give T a week, and then I’m goin’ after him,” I agree, and mean it. If T doesn’t handle it, I will make it my mission to fucking kill him.

29

KADENCE

THE SMELL of Zane’s breath over me, the coolness of the gun meeting my forehead, wakes me in a screaming cold sweat.

“Fuck,” Nix sighs next to me. “You okay, babe?” He pulls me closer to him, his strong arms protecting me.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie, the reminder of what we went through still fresh in my memory. Some nights I sleep peacefully knowing that Nix will keep me safe, and other nights, I wake myself screaming, trying to escape the darkness. Those nights are the worst, Nix having to hold me down as I lash out at an empty threat. I know it’s going to take time to move past it all. It's only been eight weeks since I left the hospital.

“I hate this so fuckin’ much.” His lips come to my hair, kissing and breathing me in. I hate that he has to see it too, but I can’t stop the ugly memories from visiting me in the middle of the night.

“Imagine how Holly feels?” I know it’s not my fault, and saying those words to Nix is the wrong thing to say, but the guilt I’m feeling just won't leave. That night did more than just mess with her. Losing the baby she was carrying and getting shot broke something in her that I don’t think anyone can fix. The first four weeks after leaving the hospital, she wouldn’t talk to anyone, pushed everyone away. I tried my best to break through. That one moment in the hospital room was the only time I ever felt close to her. When Nix came in and took me back to my room was the moment I lost her again. She built her walls so far up, even I couldn’t scale them. It’s been hard not knowing if she blames me for that night.

“Holly is dealin’ with her shit the best way she can, Kadence, but if you don’t stop blamin’ yourself, you won't get better.” Nix turns me to face him. The light of the moon sends a soft glow through the window, outlining his face by the shadows. I know he’s right, but what Zane took from her, I can’t ever give back.

“Didn’t she just start a new job?” he asks, sitting up and flicking the bedside lamp on. This has become our new norm. On the nights I wake up, we end up spending the next half-an-hour talking about anything and everything. It's Nix’s way of trying to get me to forget the nightmare I just woke up to.

“Not yet. Next month, she starts back at a new salon, new clients.” I sit up against the headboard, resting my head on his shoulder.

“That’s good, babe. Just give her some more time. She’s comin’ to the clubhouse for your birthday party, so that’s progress.” I nod, agreeing with him. I wouldn’t be having a damn party if Nix didn’t insist.

“My parents said they would take Z for the night,” I tell him as his fingers wrap around mine.

“Good, ‘cause I have plans for you next weekend.” He grins his sexy grin.

“Can’t you have plans for me tonight?” I whine. Yes, whine. I am seriously over my Nix rations. I’ve been on bed rest and light duties. Apparently, sex is not classified as light duties.

“Kadence, how many times do I have to tell you? Not until the doctor clears you.”

“Nix, you won’t hurt me,” I try to convince him. I know it won’t get me anywhere; the man is too strong to break. I’ve begged, cried and even tried to seduce him. Nothing.

“You want my mouth?” he asks, rolling me over to my back and covering me.

“No, I want your cock.”

“You can have my cock in your mouth,” he offers

“I want your cock in my pussy.” I lift my hips off the bed, trying to find some friction.

“Fuck, Kadence, don’t be a tease. You know I won't cave.” He pushes my hips down with his body weight. I pout like a child. Asshole.

The doctors put me on strict restrictions for the first month and then limiting physical activity for another 4 weeks. I know I will be fine, but Nix is just too damn stubborn, and as much as the dirty teenager acts help fill the void, there is nothing better than feeling him sink himself deep inside of me.

“Nix, it’s been sixty days. Sixty longs days since I’ve felt you in me, pounding into me, destroying me. I need you.” I try for the begging this time. I’m not lying. I do need him. I need him more than my next breath. I crave that connection. I want the intimacy of what only he can give me.

“And I need you, so fuckin’ bad, but it’s only one more week. You can last,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss me. I let out a sigh of defeat.

“Fine,” I snap, annoyed that he just rejected me again. “Get off me then.” I try not to get upset, but seriously.

Rolling back off me, he reaches over and flicks the light off.

“When I do take you, Kadence, it will be well worth the wait,” he promises, dragging me back in his embrace, his front to my back. “Sleep,” he demands, and I roll my eyes and force myself not to be a smartass. He doesn’t see my struggle, yet I feel the strength of his body as he holds me protectively close. Curling into his side, I hear a faint whisper, words I can't make out. The sound of his voice is a simple, sweet caress and fills me with warmth, helping to lull me to sleep.

“HEY, Kadence, will you be my mom?” Z asks the next morning when sitting next to me on the sofa. These past four weeks, Z has been on summer break, no longer my student and now my healing buddy.

“You have a mom, Z,” I say, sitting up to grab the remote to pause the TV. We’ve been watching a marathon of the Walking Dead, something that I’m never going to un-see. That shit is crazy whacked.

“I know things are bad at the moment, Z, but I can’t take that role away from her.” I watch his face fall, devastated I just pretty much told him no. I don’t know how to handle this one. Think, Kadence.

“My mom doesn’t even love me.” His voice cracks a little at the admission.

“Hey, that’s not true. She loves you, Z.” I reach out and take his hand.

“She hasn’t spoken to me since.” He looks down at our joined hands. I can’t help but want to hold him, tell him she doesn’t deserve him and I would love to be his mom, but I can't. Could I?

“I know, honey, and as much as the thought of being your mom sounds amazing, it just doesn’t work like that. But I can be your friend,” I add. “One of your bestest friends. I promise to look after you, drive you when you need to go somewhere, feed you all the food you love and always be here for you to talk to.” I smile down at him.

“So pretty much do all the things a mom should do?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I admit.

“It’s not fair. Why can’t you be my mom?” he questions and I can see his frustrations. “I love you more than my mom,” he softly admits.

I draw in a deep breath through my nose to stop the sting of tears. “I love you as much as a mom should love their son, Z,” I tell him.

“So can we just pretend you’re my mom?” he smiles, hopeful.

I nod letting him know that I’m okay with that. He moves closer, and nestles gently next to me. I feel more love for this little man than his mom has ever shown. If that makes me his pretend mom, so be it.

“I love you, Kadence,” he declares, settling in for the next installment of the zombie madness.

“I love you, Z,” I softly reply, kissing his head. A tingling sensation crawls over my skin. Feeling Nix’s eyes on me, I try to keep calm. I know he just witnessed me telling his son that I loved him. I don’t turn and acknowledge him, afraid of what I may see. Instead, I hold on to Z’s hand and cherish the moment we just had, knowing that the man I love stands behind us, giving us the space we need. And I love him even more for it.

30

NIX

“HE’S GONE.”

“Gone for now or gone for good?” I ask down the phone. I’ve been waiting on this call for weeks, waiting for the moment I can either put Gunner Jamieson behind me or for the chance to fucking kill him with my own hands. I know I said I’d let T handle it, but deep down if I had to, I would. I would kill him.

“Gone for good,” he answers.

“Right,” I say, understanding T’s meaning of good. I don’t ask questions. I know how it works.

“He might be gone, but someone else will replace him,” he continues, telling me what I already know.

“Don’t see it being a problem if we don’t have problems, T,” I lay it out for him. The clubs might have the truce, but T never shook on that. He might get a wild hair and pull back on it one day.

“We’re good, Nix. The last few years have been smooth. Got myself a woman and baby on the way. Don’t need more fucking drama.”

“Fuck, I hear ya there,” I agree. “That all?” I ask, ready to go let the boys know about the asshole. They’ve been on some strict lockdown preparing for retaliation.

“Yep, speak again in another few years,” he suggests, enjoying our relationship just as much as I do.

“Make it longer,” I tell him truthfully. I’m grateful for their help, but the less we have to do with them, the better.

“Gotcha,” he says before hanging up. I pocket my phone and head down to the clubhouse. One major shit storm cleared up, now I just have to deal with Addison.

“NO. Fucking. Way,” Beau nudges me to look up as we walk through the doors of Bare Assets the next day. I knew coming here would be hell. The last thing I wanted to do was see this shit, but looking up at the lit up stage, no more than five meters in front of me and seeing my ex-wife climb a pole like there is gold at the top is worse than fucking hell. I had no fucking idea she was doing this.

“Can I get you guys anything special?” A blonde dancer walks up to us as we approach a table wearing nothing more than a thong and a smile.

“Yeah, you can fuckin’ tell Addison, when she’s done shakin’ her ass, I wanna to speak to her,” I tell her, pointing up at the stage as Addison bends over, playing fucking peek-a-boo between her legs. How the fuck she got a job here confuses me. Sure, she looks the part, fake tits, bleach-blonde hair, but she’s pushing forty. Times must be tough for the owner.

The last time I saw Addison was the afternoon I read Z’s statement. Even after I ripped her a new one, and warned her that she would have a huge fight on her hands, she said she would fight me. Yet she never fucking showed.

“What are you gonna do?” Sy asks beside me.

“What can I do? It’s not my fuckin’ problem now. She wants to ride the pole over being a mother, nothin’ I can do.” He nods agreeing.

I can’t make her be a good mother, but I need to know what the fuck her plans are. Z doesn’t need the uncertainty of when or if he sees her again. This week has been hell. Addison not showing up to the hearing only proved to Z how much she didn’t care. Her shmuck of an attorney tried to reschedule, but the judge denied that request. Said the testimony of Z’s statement and her lack of responsibility goes to show she’s unfit, and full custody was awarded to me. It didn’t feel as good as I thought it would when I saw the look on Z’s face. I know he wants to be with me, but seeing his mom not show, not even try to fight, just broke his heart more.

“What do you want, Nix?” Addison comes up to the table when she finishes up on stage. The only reason I knew she was here was because one of the boys came in last night, saw her shaking her ass and called me straight away.

“So this is more important than showin’ up for Z? To show your son that you want to be a part of his life?” I accuse.

“Don’t fucking patronize me, Nix. We both know that you would have won custody.” She rolls her eyes, which just pisses me off.

“Fuck, you’re a piece of work. You don’t deserve him. I know that, but he’s fuckin’ eleven years old; he fuckin’ needs his mom.”

“Well, it’s good that your little teacher slut is all moved in, ready to go,” she hisses.

“Don’t even go there, Addison. Kadence has shown more love to my son in the last two months than you ever have. He even asked her to be his mom. How does that feel? Your own son knows how fuckin’ pathetic you’ve been?" I hit her low. She might not want to hear it, but she needs to. Kadence has been more of a mom to Z than his own mother. That day, when I walked in and heard her and Z’s conversation about being his mom, I nearly got down on my knee right there. I was close to demanding that she tell me she loved me and then make her promise to be my wife and Z’s mom. But I didn't. I stood there trying to keep my shit together, listening to her tell him how much she loved him. That’s all I want for my son, to experience that love only a mother can give a child.

"I’m glad for Z then, as I’ll be leaving at the end of the month.”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me? Fuck I can’t believe I even thought about givin’ you a second chance.” I stand, done with this fucked-up woman.

“Yeah, I’m sure you were gonna give me a second chance, Nix,” she calls out as Sy and I walk away from her.

“I would have for Z,” I tell her, turning back to her. I didn’t want to, not after everything that she has done, but visitations, lunch meet ups, shit like that, I would have tagged along for Z. But she can get fucked now.

“He doesn’t want to see me,” she mumbles, her head dropped, looking at the floor.

“Well, you’ll never know now. I’m done.” Without another word, I turn and walk out. I don’t want to deal with her ever again. The sooner she moves out of town, the better.

“COME ON, Kadence. Let's get fuckin goin’,” I yell out from the kitchen.

“Hold your horses, you big lump,” she yells back. It’s been nine weeks since Kadence left hospital, nine weeks of pure hell. Having her in my bed, in my home, and not been able to have her, I feel like my balls are about to explode.

With her broken ribs, there was no way I was getting anywhere near her. Not with the way we fuck: hard, fast and fucking explosive. Don’t get me wrong, I can do slow, but the thought of hurting her even in the slightest had my balls crawling up into themselves. That’s not to say we haven’t done other things, but there’s nothing quite like the feeling of sinking yourself into the woman you love. And I do, I love her. I’ve loved her since she kneed me in the balls in the bathroom in the bar. I just need her to admit it.

“How do I look?" Kadence steps off the bottom step, pulling me from my thoughts.

“No way you’re fuckin’ wearin’ that. Go change.” I drag my eyes down the low dip in the front of the dress, her sexy tits sit perky, showing the world her delicious cleavage.

“Shut up, Nix. What’s wrong with this?” she asks, looking down at the sexy-as-fuck dress she’s got on.

“Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me? Please go put some fuckin’ clothes on.” I adjust myself, trying not to get hard right now.

“I have clothes on, perfectly fine clothes. Stop being a caveman and let's go. You were only bitching about leaving two minutes ago,” she smirks, walking by me. My gaze follows her as she passes, and I almost come apart when I get a look at her back.

“Kadence,” I try to control my voice.

“Yes, dear?” she smiles over at me. She knows what she’s doing. The damn dress has no fucking back.

“We’re gonna be late,” I tell her, stalking over to where she stands, I don’t give a fuck if the first time I have her is against the kitchen wall.

“Nix,” she warns, backing herself up into the wall

“It’s your own fault, Kadence. You shouldn’t have poked a sleepin’ bear.” My hands come to either side of her head, caging her in. “You got two options here. One, go change, or two, I’m gonna fuck you up against this wall, after I shred this dress off you.

“You wouldn’t.” Her eyes narrow to mine.

“Try me,” I challenge her. No way is she leaving this house with that dress on.

“You forgot about the third option, Nix.” She smiles up at me.

“There is no third option, babe.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong, honey.” She drops to her knees and starts unbuckling my belt.

“Kadence,” I warn. The fucking minx and her mouth think she’s gonna outsmart me. No way.

“Nix, there is no way you're getting this dress off,” she explains, taking my cock in her hands. “For one, you’ll ruin the surprise I got going on underneath, and two, there are fifty people waiting for us at the clubhouse.” She leans forward, licking the tip of my glistening head. I don’t care how many people are waiting for us, but I know this night is important to her.

I groan when her hot mouth envelopes my throbbing cock. With my arms still firmly planted on the wall, I drop my head forward and enjoy the warmth of her mouth. The doorbell rings, breaking her suction as she pulls back.

“Don’t fuckin’ stop,” I plead.

“We gotta go, Nix. Jesse’s here,” she replies, coming up from her knees. What the fuck? Why is Jesse here?

“Fuck, Jesse, he can wait. Get back on your knees.”

“Nix, that’s rude. I’m not going to suck your cock while Jesse waits for us at the front door.” She adjusts her dress, smirking at me.

“Why the fuck not? He’d probably do the same,” I say, knowing full well the fucker would.

“Come on, honey,” she smiles sweetly at me. I’m left standing there. My cock hanging, neglected out of my pants as Kadence sashays her ass to the front door.

Fuck, I just got played.

I SIT BACK in my chair and look out around my clubhouse as my brothers, my family, and our friends come together to celebrate my woman’s birthday.

The whole club is here tonight. My pops, Z, even Kadence’s parents. Z’s staying with Frank and Jolene this weekend, to give us a night free. Since Kadence came home from the hospital, Z has become close with them, especially Jolene.

Looking over, I watch Z as he stands with Frank, no doubt talking about the fish that he and Pops caught earlier today. He's been doing a lot better the last couple days, taking all of my girl’s attention too.

Jesse has already picked up for the night; the blonde who’s been sitting on his lap is a teacher at Kadence’s school. Kadence’s mom and Kelly are fussing about in the kitchen while Beau and Brooks sit talking with my pops over by the bar, and Sy is sulking in the corner. Ever since the night the girls were attacked, Sy has been holding on to some serious fucking anger. Holly won’t talk about it to Kadence, but my bet is there’s something going on between them.

The situation is fucked.

The last eight weeks have been about healing and coming to terms with what happened. Holly pushing everyone out was her way of dealing with her shit. I can't say I blame her. It didn't stop me from being pissed with her though for pushing my girl away. But I gave her that play, let her go with it for a month, and then it had to stop. The nightmares that plague Kadence, and the guilt she is feeling is enough. She needs her best friend. So I paid Holly a visit, told her she needed to pull her head out of her ass and start letting someone in. Kadence might put up with her being a bitch to her, but I wouldn’t. I wasn’t an asshole about it. I communicated that to her nicely or as nicely as you can when you tell someone to pull their head out of their ass. I think that’s all she needed, someone to get her out of her head. The last four weeks have been a huge difference with Kadence and Holly even having a few girls’ nights in. Holly is slowly coming back to herself and my girl couldn’t be happier.

“Have you seen Holly yet?” Kadence comes up to me, her short dress still pissing me off.

“Not yet, just relax, babe. She’s comin’.” Her top teeth bite at her bottom lip in concern, worrying about something that is out of her control. I reach forward and pinch her ass. “Quit worryin’ about it. She’ll be here,” I tell her just as Holly walks into the club. Her long blonde hair is gone, replaced with a shorter hairstyle. Holy shit.

I turn and look for Sy and see him regard her, before stalking forward in a slow but deliberate way. He grabs a hold of her wrist as everyone looks on, watching her struggle.

“Sy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kadence races over to where they stand. I follow behind, knowing shit is about to go down.

“Stay out of it, Kadence. This is between Holly and me.” Sy’s eyes drill into Holly, not releasing his grip.

“Like hell, Sy, let her go,” she snaps back, moving in to break the connection he has on her friend.

My arms come around her waist, pulling her to me.

“Nix, let me go. Tell Sy to let her go.” She fights my hold.

“Cool it, woman. Let them work it out.” I pull her back a step

“Nix, she’s frightened.”

“She’s fine. She's just playin’ hard to get,” I explain close to her ear. Her fight slows as she watches their exchange. Sy pulls Holly into him; his head lowers to speak something in her ear. Her eyes narrow, but you can see something moving behind them before they soften. Understanding and acceptance wash over her as her rigid body softens in his embrace.

Kadence relaxes her body as she notices what I see. Taking her hand, I walk her back to our now empty table, giving Holly and Sy some time. Most of the guests continue back as they were, or make their way outside.

“What was that about?”

“That was Sy puttin’ his foot down. The woman has been pushin’ his buttons for the last three months. Seems like Sy has had enough.”

“I don’t blame him, with the way she looks tonight,” Kadence smiles. Looking over at the new Holly, I have to agree. Her dress is just as revealing as Kadence’s. “She looks amazing,” she continues. “I can’t believe she cut all her hair off. She looks hot.”

“Not as hot as you,” I say, watching her. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the light behind them. “Except when we get home, this dress will be ripped off. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little game earlier.” I lean into her. “That little stunt cost you a spankin’, and fair warnin’, it’s not gonna be gentle. My balls are feelin’ neglected, and if I have to sit here and watch you creatin’ hard-on’s in your wake, I’m gonna get my payback.”

“Oh, please, Jesse had to pick up the cake. I didn’t play you. Besides, you love it. You love them knowing that I’m yours,” she tells me, looking out at everyone around us. She’s right, but I’m not going to tell her that.

“I love you, and I can sure as fuck tell you I do not like seein’ other men rake their eyes over you.” I hold her gaze. Done with waiting, done with holding it back, I lay it out for her in the middle of my club. I can see the struggle play out over her face. The fight her head is having with her heart. It’s been the same way from the start of the relationship, her body wanting one thing, her head telling her another. The woman is a pain in my ass, and as much as I love that she pushes me to work harder and to be better, right about now, it’s starting to piss me off. Wanting to get through to her, I do what I’ve always done to get a response. I challenge her.

“You still falling in lust, Kadence? Or are you willing to admit you already fell?

31

KADENCE

“…ARE you willing to admit you already fell?”

I roll the question around my head, trying to stall. Of course, I love the man, who wouldn’t? However, saying the words have been harder than I first thought. I’ve guarded my heart for such a long time I didn’t want to give it away again so freely, but Nix being Nix, not only stole it, he possesses it. I don’t know what my reservations are; there have been plenty of opportunities to tell him how I felt over the last few weeks. Every night while he's held me and helped me heal, I've wanted to blurt it out. However, every time I’ve felt the words begin to roll off my tongue, I held back, feeling awkward and out of my element. I know he’s wanted to say it, holding on to thinking I don’t want to hear it, but that’s not the case. It's not that I don’t want to feel loved. I do. I crave his love as much as I crave him, so what’s holding me back?

Nothing, my head declares, my heart agreeing. My feelings for Nix are more than love. He's more than words. It’s a fierce and consuming power that demands everything I have to give. I’ve fought him and he’s won. I've played him and he’s won. I’ve surrendered to him, shed my shields, bared my soul, and he took it, owned me. Completely peeled me open, left me stripped, and not once did he leave me alone. I love this man devastatingly, irrevocably, incandescently and absolutely more than I’ve ever loved anyone.

The three words on the tip of my tongue spill out, holding back no reservations.

“I love you, Nix.”

“You love me?” he asks, shocked I just admitted to him what he already knew. Love is not words. Love is feeling and love is doing. He just needed the words. Nix’s knowing smirk pushes me to answer what he’s known all along. I nod, affirming what he needs.

“Words, babe, I need the words.”

“Yes, Nix, I. Love. You.” I roll my eyes at another thing he has bossed out of me.

“Woman, don’t sass me right before I’m about to ask you to be my wife.”

The words don’t register, or the fact that he stands from his chair, takes my hand and pulls me up. He kisses me deeply and passionately before going down on one knee in front of me, in front of everyone. The small box he pulls out of his back pocket frightens me; the platinum diamond ring sparkling in front of me renders me speechless.

He wouldn’t?

Nothing registers.

Nothing breaks through

Until he speaks.

“I feel like I need to stitch those words into my heart with a needle and thread, Kadence,” he exhales, his emerald eyes anchoring me to my spot. “Kadence, you set me on fire, woman. You walked into my life all attitude and spunk and I thought I had to have you just once. Then you kneed me in the balls and I fell. I fell hard.” Everyone around us laughs at hearing how he came to fall for me, but my eyes stay firmly on him. “I’ve been everythin’ I want to be in this life, but one thing… your husband. Marry me.”

The music around us has stopped. Looking around, I notice our friends and family have gathered looking on, waiting for my reply. It’s like I’m stuck on pause, watching a show. My heart is beating out of rhythm as I take in his proposal.

“I only just told you I loved you, Nix. Don’t you think this is moving too fast?” I try to ask quietly.

“Babe.”

“What? It’s true!”

“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath.

Shit, now I feel bad.

He looks up at me still down on one knee. “You love me. Why wait? I’m not givin’ you a chance to change your mind.”

My body is screaming at me to accept, my mind telling my mouth to speak the word ‘yes,' but I don’t know how to process, with everyone waiting.

“Come on, Kadence. Don’t leave me hangin’ here. The only time I’ve ever gotten down on my knee and you’re makin’ me beg? Do I need to fuck you into a yes again?”

There it is, his cocky attitude, his Nix-way of getting anything he wants, by pushing me. He doesn’t even care he just used fuck in his marriage proposal in front of both our parents. I’m mortified, but only a little.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you,” I laugh, smacking him when he stands from his kneeling position. He takes my mouth in a desperate kiss, his hands cupping my face. Pulling back, he whispers soft kisses over my face, telling me how desperately he loves me. Reaching for my hand, he places the most amazing ring I’ve ever seen down my finger. I admire the platinum gold, cushion cut, halo diamond ring, before he abruptly pulls me behind him as our family and friends cheer on.

“Where are we going?” I ask panicked, trying to hold him back from our descent out of the club.

“To get married,” he responds as if he just told me we’re going to the bar.

“What? Nix, wait,” I yell, confused. Flash backs of our first date come to mind, making me giggle.

“No waitin’. That shit took longer than I thought. I need that piece of paper sayin’ you're my wife, now!”

“Nix!”

“What?” He stops pulling me along,

“I love you, Nix, but this is crazy.”

“Nothin’ crazy about it.”

“Nix, we are not getting married tonight!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because, because...” I can’t seem to find the words why this would be a bad idea. Maybe this is crazy and it would be amazing, but I want to be able to celebrate with my family and our friends

“You want to,” he accuses. “You want nothin’ more than for me to take you to Vegas right now and claim you as my wife.” I can’t help but agree. I do, but I also want the whole thing, the dress, my mom and dad. I want what I deserve, what we both deserve.

“I do, Nix, but as much as the madness of all that thrills me, I want my mom and dad there, and Z. I need Z there. I want to do it right.” I watch as understanding falls over him, accepting my need for my family to be there.

“I am crazy for you. Do you feel that?” His hand engulfs mine, moving it over his heart.

“Yeah, I feel it,” I say, laughing. “I felt it when you asked me to marry you just because I told you that I loved you,” I joke, knowing just how crazy he is.

“I’ve had that ring in my pocket for the last nine weeks, the day you came home from the hospital."

“You lie.”

“Never.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” I ask confused.

“‘Cause, Kadence, the moment I realized I couldn’t live without you, I also realized I never wanted anyone to have that feelin’, knowin’ how much Kadence Turner made their lives pure. I bought the ring, so the moment you finally realized you loved me, I could make you mine, on the spot. You have been the one for me since the moment you opened that mouth and gave me attitude, and I’m not ever lettin’ that go.”

“I love you too, Nix. I love you more than I thought I could love somebody.” The words fall easily off my tongue.

“Kadence, nobody will ever love you the way I do.”

He’s right. No one has and no one will. I believe it with all my heart, and all my soul.

“Come, let's go see our parents. I'm sure your dad might feel the need to have a few words with me.” He pulls me back to our family and friends

“Did you ask for permission?” I ask, hoping that he did. I know my dad would have liked that.

“Babe.”

“Don’t babe me.”

“Babe,” he repeats.

“What kind of babe is that anyway? Like ‘Babe, I’m Nix Knight. I don’t have to ask for anybody’s permission, or ‘Babe, of course I did,’” I ask, more annoyed that any babe works.

“Neither, it was a ‘Babe, give me your sexy, smartass lips, kiss your fiancé and let our parents congratulate us.’”

I don’t argue. It won't get me anywhere, so I do as I’m told, like a good girl; ‘cause there is a time and place to be a bad girl, and the day you get engaged is not one of those days.

“HOLD on to the headboard and don’t let go.”

“Nix,” I begin before his hand comes down on my ass again.

“Don’t argue either, or this ends now.” I crawl up the bed and hold onto the headboard.

“I’ve been waitin’ nine weeks to sink myself back in here,” he purrs as he runs his finger through my wetness. “I’m not gonna be gentle,” he promises, and the thought alone has me shaking.

It’s a few hours after my party. After Nix proposed to me, we stayed late celebrating with our family and friends. My mom and dad couldn’t be happier. The boys were excited that they get a bachelor party, and Z, he can’t wait to officially call himself my stepson. Holly was happy but I could tell she was uncomfortable being in back at the clubhouse with Sy not letting her out of his sight.

“Kadence, are you listenin’ to me?” Nix growls from behind me. I know his face is between my legs as I can feel his hot, breath on my most sensitive flesh.

“Yes, Nix, I’m listening.”

“What did I say then?”

“That it’s not going to be gentle.”

“After that?” he continues to hum directly into my pussy.

“Umm.”

“So you weren’t listenin’?” he pushes, still teasing me.

“Well, it’s hard to concentrate when I’m on all fours and your face is only inches from my pussy.” My ass gets another slap in response, this time harder.

“Pay attention,” he scolds while rubbing my ass to soothe the sting. I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips as his fingers glide through my wetness. His hand comes down again, harder, more forceful. My grip on the headboard tightens. I feel like I could explode just knowing his cock is so close.

“Tonight, I’m gonna redden this ass until it’s glowin’ and you are not to let go, not for anything. Do you understand me?” I nod, my breath caught as his tongue swipes at my center.

“Words,” he growls, his lips now touching. “Give me words, Kadence.”

“Goddamn it, Nix. Just spank me, fuck me, or lick me out. I don’t care. Just do something,” I snap, my patience wearing thin.

“What’s the matter, Kadence? It’s all fun and games when you tease me, but not when I do the same?” His palm comes down fast this time. I yell, the sound vibrating around the room. Nix’s tongue comes out lashing hard at my clit. I sink back against his face, trying to get more friction. The struggle is real, the buildup so amazing. My hips move in time as his tongue brings me to the crest.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Nix!” I scream out as the orgasm takes me, my insides explode.

“Nothin’ better than making you scream with my mouth. You taste delicious.” He kisses my ass, the wetness of his lips left behind after each peck.

“Can I let go of the headboard?” I ask, not even attempting to release it. The asshole will punish me more.

“No. I’m nowhere near done with you.” I roll my eyes. If he thinks this is punishment, I’ll make sure I tease him more often.

“Now that you’re gonna be my wife, Kadence, we have a few things we need to sort out.”

“Like?”

“Like if you ever put my cock in your mouth, you better hope you finish what you start. Do you understand me?

“Yes, Dad.”

“Kadence,” he warns again.

“What are you going to do, Nix? Spank me?” I smile. Fuck I love teasing this man. Strong fingers come to my hips digging in as he enters me in one forceful movement.

“Fuck,’ I scream as the intrusion I wasn’t prepared for fills me.

“Jesus,” he grasps as he draws out and slowly enters me again, this time slowly. “Tell me again,” Nix demands as he leans forward, his front close to my back.

“I love your cock, Nix.” I hold back the laugh as he growls behind me.

“No.” He thrusts forward.

“I love you spanking me?” I try again, holding in the moan.

“Kadence.” His fingers come to my hair, fisting and pulling it back.

“I love you,” I pant and his movements become frenzied.

“Again.”

“I love you, you bossy annoying asshole. Now shut up and fuck me hard,” I demand, over talking about it. I need Nix and his cock.

“I swear, woman, I love you enough to know I‘m not spanking you hard enough.” He swats my ass again as he continues pounding into me.

And he’s right. It wasn’t hard enough; another spanking wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

“ADDISON IS LEAVING TOWN,” he says as we lay in bed recovering from our first time of being together in nine weeks.

“What. Why?” I ask, instantly on alert.

“Don’t know why. Didn’t ask. But know by the end of the month, she’s out.”

“Shit,” I sigh, knowing that Z will be heartbroken.

“It’s okay. He doesn’t need her,” he assures me, reading my thoughts.

“He does, Nix. He needs his mother,” I argue, even if their relationship is strained.

“He has you and that’s all he needs.” He gathers me further into him, knowing I’m about to turn to face him. He keeps me tucked in, nowhere to move.

“Don’t even bother arguing. He loves you. You are all he needs.” His breath is at my ear.

“I don’t know how to be a mom, Nix.”

“Well, start knowin’ it. We are havin’ kids as soon as I can get you knocked up.”

“Ummm, no, Nix.”

“Umm, yes, Kadence.”

“Oh, my gosh, you are a pain in my ass,” I huff out, annoyed that I can’t argue with him.

“No, Kadence, the pain is from my hand comin’ down on it earlier.” He laughs at his stupid joke.

“Agh,” I continue to pout. The damn man makes me crazy.

His hand comes to my stomach, his fingers lightly grazing the skin. “Can’t wait to see this belly, so beautiful, so big.” He rolls me back on to my back. “Nothing would make me happier to know that we created a child together, Kadence. I want that. I want that for Z. Don’t deny that for us,” he whispers, and this time I cave. Why does he have to be so sweet?

“I’ll have to make an appointment with the specialist; the scarring might be an issue,” I tell him. I don’t know how much of an issue, but the skin might not be able to stretch. His finger comes down and traces the scar, his face morphing into anger.

“I hate they did this. That he did this.” He moves down my body to kiss the ugliness. I hate when he does this, but there is no stopping him. “Gunner’s dead,” he continues, ignoring my discomfort at him kissing me there. “Nothing will make up for what they did and I can’t ever take that back, but know that they won’t ever hurt you again,” he promises. And I know he’s telling me the truth.

“I know, Nix, and I don’t hold that anger anymore.” I look down at him. “It’s over. Zane is dead. Gunner is dead. T and his boys helped save me, and you still have the truce.” I tell him everything he already knows. “Let’s be happy,” I say, for once at peace with my life.

“I am happy, and I’ll never stop making sure you’re happy, baby,” he tells me, and I know he will. He’s Nix Knight: the man does what he says he’s going to do.

EPILOGUE

NIX

I ROLL up on my bike feeling a nervous energy stir through me.

“You ready for this?” Beau asks beside me. The fucker looks ridiculous in his nut-hugging slacks, wearing his cut and riding his bike.

“How the fuck we end up here?” I ask, laughing as the rest of the boys pull up next to us. The whole crew’s wearing suits, their cuts replacing the jacket.

“You’re the fucker who fell in love, asshole,” Sy grumbles beside me.

“Yeah, well, the suit wasn’t my fuckin’ idea,” I tell them, but they just shake their head knowing I’d do anything for her.

“You right, boss man?” Jesse asks, watching me quietly.

“Yep. Wanted this fucking months ago,” I tell them, knowing it’s true. I didn’t care how I got here or how long it took me, I wanted this day.

“You might have wanted this day, but you look like you’re about to puke,” Beau laughs beside me.

He’s right. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I’m Nix Knight. I don’t get nervous. But fuck. I am. Today is one of the most important days of my life. Today, I make Kadence my wife.

KADENCE

“Keep still or I won’t be able to get it right.” Holly swats my hand away, while still holding the curling iron close to my scalp.

“Don’t burn me, Holly,” I complain.

“I won’t if you stop moving,” she argues back.

“I can’t help it. I'm nervous. I feel like I could spend the day on the toilet.” Her insane laughter fills the room, and the sound heals a little of the pain I hold for her in losing her child. It’s been four months since that night, and even though the same funny, crazy Holly is standing in front of me, doing my hair for my wedding day, I feel like she’s still missing a little piece. I’ve searched and searched for that small piece, but no matter how far I travel, how deep I dig, I can’t find it. I’ve come to realize it’s not something I can give her. It’s something she can only find herself. It’s just coming to terms with that.

A knock at the door has me jumping in my chair.

“Keep it together, Kadence.” Holly laughs at how nervous I am. My dad walks in looking handsome in his suit. He wasn’t impressed when mom and I picked it out for him, but I could see behind his eyes that he would be secretly proud to wear it for his daughter's wedding day.

“You’re late,” he croaks, quickly turning away from me.

“Are you crying, Mr. Turner?” Holly calls out.

I smile at her jab, but I feel slightly sorry for my dad. I've never seen him cry. “Are you okay, Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got something in my eye,” he explains as Holly snorts behind me.

“We are almost ready, Daddy,” I tell him, using the name I know that he loves to hear.

“Done,” Holly declares, moving away from me. I stand from the chair and walk to look into the full-length mirror. Shit. I draw in a breath. The floor-length ivory gown sits snug against my body, a small band of crystals cinching my waist in. The sweetheart neckline is covered in a sheen of beaded lace, cut off in a capped sleeve. My dark hair is woven up into a low updo, leaving soft curls falling around my face. The ivory-netted headpiece that Holly just secured in covers half my face, the crisscross pattern sitting two inches over my left eye.

“I love it, Holly.” I turn to look at her and catch the last look of pain cross her face. “Are you okay?” I ask, walking to her.

“I’m okay, Kadence.” She wipes the lone tear away. “You look breathtaking.” She pulls me in for a short hug and then steps back smiling at me. I know she’s happy for me.

“I love you, Holly.”

“I love you, too. Okay, let me just grab your bouquet and mine, and let's get this shindig started.” She leaves through the connecting door, giving Dad and me some privacy.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” I look over at him, still trying to keep his tears at bay.

“Fuck no! My baby girl’s getting married, and by God, you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” He walks up to me, engulfing me in his strong embrace.

“Dad, don’t make me cry. I'll mess up my makeup."

“Don’t even care. You’ll still be beautiful.” I fight the urge to tell him he’s just like Nix. I'm sure he’s already aware of that. “Jesus, Kadence, you’re breakin' my heart here. I feel like I’m losing a piece of me.” A sneaky tear escapes, but this time I don’t even care.

“You’re not, Dad. You’ll still be my dad. You will always have a special place in my life,” I promise.

“Good, just make sure you tell that to your husband when he tries to take all your time,” he sniffs back his emotion.

“Daddy, I promise. I will always have time for you.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, squeezing my hand. I never thought of it like that. Here I am freaking out about giving my life to another, while my parents feel like they're losing a part of theirs.

“Oh, God, I leave you for two minutes, Mr. Turner, and you made her cry?” Holly comes back carrying my bouquet made up of purple roses. “Come here. We’re already late.” She fusses about, fixing the damage my dad did in two sentences. God, I’m not going to last with Nix’s vows.

“Okay, let's do this,” she says after finishing up the touches.

My dad takes my hand and leads me out the door to the chapel. The chapel was Nix’s idea, to marry in the same one as his parents did. I loved the idea so much; I agreed instantly, a special part of them both with us on our day.

I love his dad. Since meeting in the hospital, he’s been coming back into town every other weekend and staying with us. Nix and Z love it, but I know Red loves it more. The boys have even had a few weekends out at the lake house. I know when Nix lost his mom things were tough between the two of them, but looking at them now, you would never know. You can tell how much Nix loves having his dad in town and has even hinted at wanting him to move back, to be closer to Z. I can’t blame him. Now that I have moved in with Nix and Z, my parents have been coming over more often. I’d love to say it’s because they miss me so much, but it’s all to do with Z. They’ve fallen in love with him just as much as I have. Their grandson, they tell everyone. Z loves them just as much as they do him, even choosing to go stay with them while Nix and I are away on our honeymoon.

“I just want you to know, Kadence, your mom and I couldn't be more proud of you,” my dad whispers, close to my ear. “Be happy. You deserve it.” He kisses my cheek.

“I am,” the truth rolls off my tongue. I have never been happier in my life.

We step over the threshold of the aisle, and I watch Holly, in her pale lavender floor-length dress, walk down the aisle. Sy’s eyes follow her as she walks slowly to the front. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to hide her feelings for him. We all see it, but for some reason they both live in their own delusional world, thinking we don’t. I worry about them when he finds out the truth, but until then I have to just be there for her.

The soft music ends when Holly reaches her spot, the sounds of an acoustic guitar now coming to life, filling the small chapel. Our family and friends come to their feet, but I only have eyes for Nix.

Standing in a white dress shirt, black pants and his cut, he holds the hand of Z, both smiling over at me. It didn’t take much to convince him to wear a suit. He agreed, but the cuts stayed. Jesse, Brooks, Sy, and Beau also followed his lead, wearing matching attire. There isn’t much the boys wouldn’t do for me. I know they only do it for Nix—keeping me happy keeps him happy—but I like to think they love me enough to grant me one small wish, even if they do try to push me for a reaction. Having them standing there on our special day, on their best behavior, was my only wish.

After the bachelor and bachelorette party, I wouldn’t put it past them to try something. Canceling the male stripper Holly ordered for me, and replacing him with a female was the start of a very eventful night. Waking up to the messages that Nix was in jail the next day was the last thing I wanted to hear hung-over. Nix was more pissed at his shaved eyebrows and shaved balls than him ending up in jail. I was beyond mad, telling them all if they pulled any funny business at the wedding, there would be hell to pay. Nix made them promise no shit during the ceremony, but I know the party is a free-for-all. I'll be cleaning up the clubhouse for days. My new role as old lady is already a daunting task, but one I’ll take on with an open mind.

I quickly glance up, my eyes locking onto Nix’s. He’s watching me, taking every inch of me in. All my nerves and worries are gone by just one look. No words spoken, no smile given, the only encouragement I need is staring back at me with his emerald green eyes. I draw in an exhilarating breath; these men are my life, my family and my world.

I take my first step to them, knowing I’m walking toward my ultimate happiness, unwavering love and the most beautiful thing of all, my amazing family.

CONTINUE THE KNIGHTS REBELS SERIES WITH

Affliction Book #2 In the Knights Rebels Mc

Available now on Amazon, iBooks, Nook, and Kobo.

FOLLOW THE SERIES

Incandescent

Affliction

Reclaimed

Desertion

Infatuation

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I can’t believe I’m even writing an acknowledgement page. So in saying that, there are many people I need to thank.

Alissa Evanson-Smith: Lovely, there are no words. I feel like I found this friend at this amazing time in my life. You have become part of my daily life and I honestly feel lost if I don’t talk to you at least once a day. You have been there for me from day one, and I can’t thank you enough. I love you hard woman.

My C.O.W.s - Alissa, Ash, Jess and Bel:

You ladies seriously are the best. Thousands and thousands of messages, laughter, tears, miles, you name it. You all have been so supportive of me and there is no way I would even be sitting here writing my final words of Nix and Kadence’s story. This one is for you guys.

P.S Seriously, if ANYONE ever read our private MSG threads, I would die. Fall over and die. You girls are crazy, funny, smart, and beautiful. Oh, and downright dirty. I don’t know what I would do without all. I DUCKING love you all… Quack!

Thank you to my lovely beta readers, Jodie, Gil, Stephanie, Bella, and Angela. Your enthusiasm for Nix and Kadence pushed me to be better. Get ready for Sy and Holly; things are only just getting started.

Kylie, from Give Me Books: Do you get sick of all the acknowledgments you’re in? No? Good. Thank you for the hard work you do. I appreciate it more than you know. You are the blogger to end all bloggers.

C.P. Smith: You really went above and beyond and really helped me more than I can thank you. You are a gem and I can’t thank you enough for all the hard work you have done for me.

Nina Levine: Dude, I think you must cringe every time my name comes up on FB messenger. Ha-ha. You, my friend, have shown me the true meaning of helping out your fellow author. You, lady, have class and I will be forever grateful.

Louisa from LM Creations: Girl, I feel like I should dedicate Nix and Kadence to you. You, my friend, rock my world. I can’t believe you still like me after the many changes, and the many mess-arounds we have endured. I promise Sy’s book will be less painful. If not, then I’ll dedicate that book to you also.

Thank you to the many people who saw me through this book; to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, allowed me to bug you with questions. Thank you.

To my Rebels: You ladies truly are amazing. From the hot naked men, to the outrageous things we get up to. You all rock my world. I love you hard. (Even if you spam my news feed with cock.)

To the Bloggers: Thank you for your support. I wouldn’t have been able to get my name out without you guys pimping my book, sharing my teasers and just supporting me through.

And finally:

My husband, who cheered me on, kept me fed, looked after the children and didn’t complain once. You married a crazy person, do you know that? This year, hell, our life, has always been crazy. Without you none of this would even be possible. I could never have accomplished half the things I have without you by my side. You get me. You love me. And most importantly, you’ve never left me. I love you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An avid reader of romance and erotic novels, River’s love for books and reading fueled her passion for writing. Reading no longer sated her addiction, so she started writing in secret. She never imagined that her dream of publishing a novel would ever be achievable. With a soft spot for an alpha male and a snarky sassy woman, Kadence and Nix were born.

River would love to hear from you. You can contact and/or follow her via...

Email: riversavageauthor@gmail.com

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LOSING AN EDGE

A Portland Storm Novel

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Losing an Edge

Copyright © 2016 by Catherine Gayle

Cover Design by Kim Killion, The Killion Group

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

For more information: catherine@catherinegayle.com

PROLOGUE

LEVI

MY OLDER BROTHER, Jamie Babcock, had the puck on his stick, racing toward the Team Sweden goal and our Portland Storm teammate, goaltender Nicky Ericsson. Jamie had a clear breakaway, and the only chance Swedish defenseman Peter Nylund—a former teammate—had to stop him was to trip him.

Which was exactly what Ny did. The ref’s arm went up for a penalty shot. Not something you normally expected to see in the Winter Games.

But Jamie—being the impossibly perfect guy he’d always been—somehow got off a backhand shot while his feet flew through the air. Nicky grabbed a piece of the rubber with his glove, but not enough. The puck bounced off his glove, then the crossbar, and then it went in. The goal negated the penalty shot and put Team Canada up three goals to one late in the third period.

This was the final game of round robin play. The quarterfinals were up next. Talking to Jamie and the other guys, it was obvious Team Canada could practically taste them already.

There was nothing I wanted more than to be out on the ice with my brother for a moment like this. For the majority of my life, I’d dreamed of being at the Winter Games. Those dreams had always included me participating in them, though, not being forced to watch from the stands as my brother and several of our friends and teammates represented their home countries out on the ice.

Jamie’s fiancée, Katie Weber, was currently on her feet and screaming her head off while waving a Canadian flag in the air, all wrapped up in scarves and hats and whatnot. But at least I had one of my other teammates sitting up in the nosebleed seats with me. Cam “Jonny” Johnson and his family had all made the journey halfway around the world to watch his sister, Cadence, skate for the gold medal in the pairs figure skating competition. In between her events, he was hanging out with me. We were watching hockey instead of playing it, for once. Not exactly what either of us would prefer, but we weren’t the sorts of players who often got chosen to represent Canada in international play these days.

I used to be. Back when I was playing in juniors, I was one of the best. Something had happened when I made the leap up to the NHL, though. Now I fucked things up more often than I got them right. There were only so many spots for a defenseman in these things, and the competition was crazy tough. So these days, I was on the sidelines, watching my older brother earn all the glory.

Play started up again, and Jonny glanced down at his watch.

“Time to head over to watch Cadence?” I asked.

“Yeah. Mom and Sara are holding a seat for me, but if I don’t head that way soon…” There wasn’t any need to finish that sentence. Figure skating was one of the hottest tickets at the Games, and just because he had a ticket for entry to the event, it didn’t guarantee him a particular seat.

He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “See you after a while,” he said, already halfway down the steps toward the exit.

Even though the only reason I’d come was to watch my brother compete, at the moment I had a bad taste in my mouth. Envy—it tasted like bile. Jealousy wasn’t doing me any damn good, though. All it did was pry open a wound that had been festering for decades…at least as long as I could remember. I glanced up at the game clock on the Jumbotron overhead. Four minutes left. The Swedes were good, so there weren’t any guarantees that Team Canada would win, but I didn’t want to sit here and watch any more of my brother’s heroics. Twenty-three years of seeing him be the best had already been more than enough.

I leaned over so Katie could hear me. “I’m gonna go with Jonny and watch his sister.” Once she nodded her understanding, I grabbed my coat and darted down the stairs to catch up with him. By the time he got outside, I was keeping stride with his determined pace.

He raised a brow. “Not staying?”

“I think watching some figure skating will do me good. Besides, Cadence is going for gold tonight. This game doesn’t matter in the long run. None of them do until the medal rounds.”

He nodded and let out a grunting sound. “I don’t have an extra ticket for you, so you’re going to have to figure out how you’re getting in on your own.”

“Someone will be hawking them.”

That had been the case so far at every event we’d been to, with the scalpers’ prices often being five times the face value. I wasn’t worried about the money. I could more than afford whatever they demanded. My bigger concern was escaping the shadow my brother always cast over me, even if only for a while.

Jonny texted Sara to see if she could wrangle a second seat, since I was coming, too. We got in Jonny’s rental car to head across the city to the figure skating venue. The event had been going on most of the day already, with the pairs who’d received lower scores in the earlier round taking the ice well before we arrived.

Sure enough, I found someone scalping tickets outside the rink. I forked over an astronomical sum and hurried inside after Jonny. Sara and Mrs. Johnson had their hands full with Sara and Jonny’s kids, not to mention holding on to a couple of seats for the two of us, but they looked up with massive smiles.

“Just in time,” Sara said, plopping her two-month-old daughter, Cassidy, on Jonny’s lap. “The final group is coming out for warm-ups.”

Three-year-old Connor climbed up my back and flung himself over my shoulder, trusting that I’d catch him before he catapulted himself to the ground and giggling like a maniac. Then he tugged on my shirt to pull himself upright to stand on my thigh. As soon as he could reach, he held out some sort of snack and shoved a couple of fingers into my mouth. They tasted like applesauce and Cheetos.

I glanced over to Jonny for help.

He didn’t give me any. “You wanted to come. You hold the kid for a bit.”

“I hope Jamie and Katie don’t get any bright ideas about making babies any time soon,” I grumbled, trying to readjust the little boy since he’d taken a step and landed his foot firmly on my junk. Something as tiny as a toddler’s foot shouldn’t hurt like a motherfucker, even if it was on the most sensitive part a man had. Who knew I needed to wear a cup to watch figure skating?

“You know they’re going to try soon,” Sara said. “At least once Katie’s doctors have given her the go-ahead.”

Before too much longer, the skaters all cleared the ice, and an American couple was announced. They skated to some classical piano concerto or another and performed very well right up until the guy tossed his partner for a jump and she fell on the landing.

Mrs. Johnson made a tutting sound next to me. “This might knock Whitby and Young out of it. They were already behind…”

I didn’t know the first thing about figure skating other than the fact that their toe picks tore the shit out of the ice, leaving all sorts of holes all over the place, so I nodded for her benefit.

Falling wasn’t good. Got it. The judges’ marks made no sense to me when they popped up on the scoreboards, but Mrs. Johnson pursed her lips together and nodded like she’d seen them coming.

A German pair followed. They were far enough out of sync on some spins that even I noticed, and they had a few other bobbles.

“They were starting from a lower base value, so I think they’re out of it,” Jonny’s mom said. The score they received was higher than the Americans’, but only by a couple of points.

Then a Chinese couple took the ice as Connor’s fingers discovered the lobe of my ear. He yanked hard.

“And that’s why I don’t wear earrings anymore,” Sara said from behind me.

To my eyes, the Chinese couple skated an almost flawless routine. That wasn’t saying much, given my lack of knowledge of the sport. The judges scored them much higher, and Mrs. Johnson white-knuckled the armrest of the seat between us. She didn’t say anything this time.

Then Cadence Johnson skated out to the center of the ice along with her partner, Guy Archambeault.

Mrs. Johnson seemed to take a breath and hold it.

Cadence was tiny next to her partner. He had to be close to my size—I was six foot three and a hair over two hundred pounds—but she was like a brown-haired pixie out there. A crazy-hot pixie, but I kept that thought to myself. I didn’t need to be thinking like that when it came to Jonny’s sister. Not if I wanted to keep the body parts his son was currently mashing where they belonged.

“After the short program,” Jonny said, leaning in toward me in an odd move likely designed to keep Connor’s sticky fingers off him, “they’re behind the Russian pair by slightly under two points, and they were barely ahead of the Chinese. And considering how well the Chinese pair just did, there’s no room for error.”

“At all,” his mother said, even though I was positive she wasn’t breathing.

The crowd hushed except for Connor, who had started bouncing up and down on my lap and laughing to himself. I held on to his waist and attempted to keep him from propelling himself down a few rows. The strains of a familiar tune from some ballet or another filled the arena. Cadence and Guy slipped into motion, fluid and powerful, all at once. He lifted her overhead and she soared through the air. They did side-by-side jumps and joint spins and all sorts of other things I couldn’t possibly name and would never in my lifetime dream of being able to do. Then Guy picked Cadence up by the waist and threw her the same way as the other couples had all done, only she went higher, faster, farther as she spun.

She landed on two feet, and Mrs. Johnson cursed under her breath.

“Damn it,” Connor repeated, only to have Jonny hush him.

“That wasn’t good?” I asked Jonny, clueless. “She didn’t fall.”

“She needed to land on a single foot,” he explained. “They’ll deduct some points for two-footing it.”

It felt like forever waiting for the scores while the judges viewed replays of the performance to verify whatever they needed to be certain of. Finally, the scores flashed up on the screen, and Mrs. Johnson leaped out of her seat, screaming her head off and waving a Canadian flag with a massive grin on her face.

Cadence and Guy had come in a few points ahead of the Chinese couple, but the Russian couple had yet to take the ice. No matter what, these scores guaranteed at least a silver medal in the biggest competition of their lives.

A shot of Cadence and Guy flashed up on the Jumbotron. They ought to be elated after their performance. Tonight’s effort had been the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. But even though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I could tell he was giving her an earful about something.

She listened to him, a smile still plastered on her face for all the cameras trained on them, but the usual glitter wasn’t in her eyes. I’d seen enough pictures of her over the years to know she was always smiling, always laughing, happy as could be. She was Jonny’s exact opposite in that way.

Jonny, Sara, and Mrs. Johnson were all still cheering and screaming. I didn’t get the impression they’d noticed what I’d seen. Hell, maybe her reaction was all in my head.

Before I could overanalyze it the way I tended to do with most things, the Russians took the ice and skated an almost flawless piece. Their performance was so perfect, in fact, that I had no idea they’d done anything wrong until Mrs. Johnson grabbed my hand and squeezed all the blood out of it.

“She doubled the lutz,” she said hopefully. “They’ve got a chance. A tiny chance, but we’ll take it.”

Once again, the judges took an enormous amount of time before settling on a final score for the Russians. The whole arena was so quiet I wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone in the place could hear little Connor singing to himself—something about smelly farts—on my lap.

But then the scores flashed on the screen—and they were a whole 2.03 points behind Cadence and Guy. Jonny was instantly on his feet, tucking Cassidy securely over his shoulder and covering her ears to protect her from the sudden noise. The crowd erupted as the cameras landed on his sister and her partner.

This time, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Not only was she not floating somewhere up on cloud nine where she ought to be, but Cadence Johnson was almost in tears. And not the good sort of tears. The sort that made me want to bash her partner’s face in, because there was zero chance in my mind he wasn’t the one behind it.

Maybe I should have stayed to watch hockey.

CHAPTER ONE

LEVI

ALL AROUND THE National Hockey League, there are guys who have reputations for being clutch. They’re the sort of guy who, when his team reaches overtime of Game Seven, everyone in the stands and on the team wants the puck to be on his stick. Those guys score huge goals in even more important games. They lay jaw-dropping hits that change the tone of not just a game but an entire series, maybe even instigating a rivalry with another team that will last for years to come. They fight the right guys at the right times to drag their teams back into the fray. They’re the ones who always seem to play their best when the stage is at its biggest and the stakes are at their highest.

My older brother was one of those guys. Jamie was the golden boy, the one who could do no wrong. He was the captain of the Portland Storm, the team we both played for. He was the guy who, whenever our team needed a spark, found the perfect moment to put the whole team on his back and carry us to the finish line. Hell, he’d just done it last postseason. We wouldn’t have gotten to the Stanley Cup Finals if not for the way he’d dragged us along with him. Jamie got shit done. He made people believe—in him, and in us.

His life was about as close to perfect as humanly possible. This past summer he even married Katie Weber, one of Hollywood’s darlings from a couple of years ago. In almost every area of life, Jamie could do no wrong.

But me? Clutch? Don’t make me laugh.

I was not that guy. Or at least I wasn’t any longer, now that I was a pro hockey player. The scouts had all thought I was clutch. That was why I’d been drafted so high a few years back. Bet they regretted their decision now. My whole life, I’d always felt as if I were a step or two behind Jamie, but once we got to the NHL, the distance had grown. Now the gulf between us stretched for miles.

Instead of being clutch, I was the guy who’d had the puck on my stick when my team was up by a goal with seconds left in Game Five of the Stanley Cup Finals. We were down three games to one in the series, so we had to win. The Lightning had pulled their goalie for an extra attacker. I had a clear path to the net and no one was close enough to catch me. But instead of shooting it in, I’d lost an edge, tripped over my own two fucking feet, and fallen on my ass. I couldn’t get up again in time to stop Stamkos from sweeping the puck away from me, skating it into the zone, and putting it past my goaltender to send us to overtime.

Where we lost.

Which meant it was over.

The series-clinching goal had even bounced in off the blade of my stick.

We hadn’t simply lost the game. We’d lost everything we’d worked for the entire season. Eighty-two games in the regular season. Twenty-six more in the playoffs. All gone.

Yeah, that was me these days. My brother was a hero, but I was a fucking goat.

None of the guys ever gave me shit over it, especially not Jamie. I doubted he had any clue just how fucking jealous I was of him. Even if he was aware, he didn’t do anything to make my resentment worse beyond being himself.

Those are the breaks, the guys would say to my face. Shit happens. We’ll be better next year. I knew better than to think they truly thought that way or said things like that when I wasn’t around, though. The fans weren’t anywhere near as discreet about their thoughts on my ineptitude. Hell, #damnit501 trended on Twitter nearly every time we played this season, especially in the Portland area. There was no escaping the truth: I was the guy always letting everyone down, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.

I’d never been as good as Jamie, despite spending every waking minute of my life trying to live up to his hype, but I’d never sucked so bad before.

There was nothing I wanted more in life these days than to be better than him at something. I didn’t even care what, right now. Underwater basket weaving. Filling up a gas tank and stopping with zeroes in the cents columns. Fastest balloon animal creator. It didn’t matter, exactly.

Part of me wished Jim Sutter, the Storm’s general manager, hadn’t made a trade on draft day in order to claim me, even though that was crazy talk.

The hockey media spent hours reminding me and the rest of the world that my draft class had been a hell of a lot thinner than the year he’d been drafted, too, as if that was the reason I’d been drafted higher than he had. They all thought if we’d been drafted in the same year, I might not have even gone in the first round.

If my older brother and I played for different teams, maybe he wouldn’t constantly be in my head. Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to prove myself, to find my own niche where I could excel.

But that wasn’t how things had worked out.

The Storm had drafted me, and instead of finally stepping out from under Jamie’s shadow, I now doubted I would ever have an opportunity to be anything other than the second-best Babcock brother.

I had hope—slim hope, but still—that tonight would help me escape from the bullshit running on repeat in my head, at least for a bit. If nothing else, at least there’d be plenty of beer around for me to drown my sorrows in.

All my inadequacies were fresh on my mind as I headed in for Keith Burns’s big New Year’s Eve party, because my bad puck luck had reared its ugly fucking head in tonight’s game, the same as it always did.

I’d tried to clear a puck out of Nicky’s crease, but instead I’d nudged the damned thing into our goal to put the Sharks up, when it had been a tie game. Jamie had come through for us about five minutes later. He’d tied the score and, once again, saved the day.

As if that weren’t enough, he’d scored the game winner in overtime, just for shits and giggles, I supposed.

He and his now-wife, Katie, had arrived at Burnzie’s enormous mansion on the river well before me. Usually for New Year’s Eve, a lot of us got dragged into doing a charity event for the Light the Lamp Foundation. This year, they’d bumped the festivities back due to the founder’s wife, Noelle Kallen, giving birth a few days ago in Sweden and the foundation’s local vice-president and our goaltender’s wife, Jessica Ericsson, being on bedrest and due to pop with Nicky’s first baby within a few weeks. Instead, the big event had been moved to St. Patrick’s Day, and Lord knew what Jessica had in store for us then. Nicky said she was constantly on her phone and her laptop, even in bed.

So much for getting rest.

I parked behind Jamie’s car on the overcrowded street out front. When I reached the sidewalk, it was to find Jonny and Sara already at the door, along with some petite blonde with curves that went on for days. I’d almost missed the blonde because Jonny’s massive frame blocked her from my view, but she shifted and I caught a glimpse of her adorable smile as she looked up at him. Jonny’s shiny bald head reflected Burnzie’s Christmas lights. But I didn’t have a clue who she was. Sara didn’t have any siblings, and Jonny’s sisters all had dark brown hair similar to mine. I did know she was a hot little package.

There weren’t any kids with them tonight. Jonny must have hired a babysitter. At least Connor wouldn’t be jumping up and down on my balls all night.

It had been almost a year since that night at the Winter Games, but he still stomped on my nuts every time he could land his sticky little hands on me, giggling the whole time like it was the highlight of his four-year-old life. I’d be lucky if I could ever have kids of my own after all his rough treatment, not that I was in any big hurry to start a family.

I got the sense that Jonny encouraged his son, but he’d never admit it.

The bit of snow still on the ground from last week’s freak snowstorm crunched under my feet as I made my way across the lawn, and all three of them spun around to look at me. Jonny grunted, Sara grinned, but the blonde didn’t make any outward sign of recognition. She looked insanely familiar to me, though. I could swear I’d seen her before.

It was the eyes. She had wide hazel eyes, seemingly too big for her face.

Then it hit me. They were a hell of a lot like Jonny’s eyes, only bigger. Softer. Filled with a sort of sweetness—a word I’d never in a million years use to describe her older brother—that was as addictive as candy.

She was the fuck-me-sideways-and-hang-me-up-wet kind of hot that always got me in trouble, too—perfectly cute as a button one minute, and the next moment it was as though she’d flipped a switch and morphed into a seductress. Fit, with exactly the right amount of curves in all the right places, all wrapped up in a tiny, perky package.

I wouldn’t ever admit the truth to Jonny, but copies of magazines she’d been in were all over my apartment. Including the one from ESPN: The Body. Yeah, the important bits had been covered in that one, but it didn’t take a whole lot of imagination to fill in the missing details. I’d fantasized about her more than a few times.

But this was no fantasy.

Cadence Johnson had apparently bleached her hair, but she was very much here, standing only a few feet in front of me. After she and her partner had won the gold, her gorgeous grin had been everywhere back home. She was all anyone could talk about for months. They’d offered her reality TV shows and dozens of endorsement deals like the one for ESPN. Canada couldn’t get enough of Cadence.

She smiled at me, and it was like she’d flipped that switch. Bedroom eyes. Holy fuck, were those ever bedroom eyes, and they were locked right on me. I froze. Couldn’t help it. There was something about her that left me staring, absolutely tongue-tied and probably shit-faced.

But what was Canada’s darling doing in Portland? Just visiting Jonny and Sara for the holidays? That didn’t sound right to me. The figure skating world operated on a similar schedule to hockey. At this time of year, I would expect her to be too busy training for competitions to travel, so it seemed more than a bit odd.

“Hey, fuck face,” Koz called out from the street, slamming the door to his Ferrari. Fuck face was Blake Kozlow’s current favorite name for me. I wouldn’t bother to guess what he’d be calling me by next week, since he changed his mind about as often as he changed his boxers. We’d been roommates last season, but over the summer he’d decided to buy a place downtown. He liked to flash and make a splash; I preferred a quieter life. At least I did most of the time.

“Fuck off,” I groused as Koz joined us.

“Watch your language around my sister,” Jonny said.

Koz snorted. “You brought your sister to the wrong place if you don’t want her hearing shit.”

“I’ve heard plenty of it before,” Cadence said. But she blushed as she ducked her head.

“Including at our house,” Sara added with a wink in Cadence’s direction. “From your son, even.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cadence insisted. “I can handle myself tonight.”

Jonny grunted, but then Burnzie opened the door and ushered us all inside out of the cold. He had a naked baby—his eight-month-old son, Garrett—freshly bathed but not yet diapered in his arms. All three of Burnzie’s big dogs barked at us as we passed, and the baby waved his arms in their direction and giggled.

“Everyone’s spread out. Toss your coats in there,” Burnzie said, pointing toward a room that never got used for anything at these parties. The place was enormous, so there was no need to fill every room. “Food and booze in the kitchen. I’ll be a better host once this little guy is in his bed.”

Right on cue, the little guy in question peed all over Burnzie’s shirt and cackled even louder than before. Koz burst out with a snort-laugh, and even Cadence fought to hide her grin behind her hand, since Burnzie was holding the baby out like he was a ticking bomb. He didn’t spare us another thought before taking off up the stairs to finish tucking him in.

We all took off our jackets and added them to the existing pile. Jonny said something quietly to his sister, and she nodded and shooed him away. Then he and Sara made their way to the living room, where several of the older, married players had gathered. Cadence headed toward the kitchen. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from watching her go, focusing on the sway of her hips a lot longer than was good for me.

Koz caught my eye and nudged his head toward the game room downstairs, where I expected most of the younger, single guys on the team to be congregating.

I shook my head. “Later.” No doubt I’d end up down there at some point tonight, but not yet. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

He flipped me off on his way down, calling out, “Screw you, fuck face.”

“Not tonight,” I muttered under my breath, but he was already gone.

Before I could think better of it, I headed toward the kitchen.

Cadence was standing in front of the island, filling a red Solo cup with ice cubes from a bowl. She glanced up at me and smiled again. It went all the way up to her eyes. I couldn’t help but think about the tears shining in her eyes right after she’d won gold in the Winter Games, but my moment of reflection didn’t last long—not with the sexy curve of her lips as she stared at me.

No one else was in the kitchen, but talk and laughter filled the air all around us, making it seem as if we were surrounded. I smiled, too. There was no way to stop myself from grinning, with the sweet, sinful, and slightly embarrassed way she was looking at me. Everything about her seemed to be a contradiction, which only made me want to know more.

“Does he always call you fuck face?” she asked, moving to the fridge to add water to her cup. “Or is that something special for New Year’s Eve?”

I shrugged. “He’ll probably have something else to call me by tomorrow or the next day. Likely something more colorful. Koz likes variety.”

“So fuck face is a term of endearment, then.”

She didn’t state it as a question.

“Something like that.” I wasn’t entirely sure Koz held anyone or anything in that kind of esteem.

“I’m Cadence,” she said.

“I know.” God, I felt like a fucking teenager around her. “I’m Levi. Levi Babcock.”

“I know, too. Cam said the guys all call you 501. Like the jeans.” She blushed and crossed over to me, holding out her hand. I took it, but I held on to her palm rather than giving a proper shake, letting the warmth of her skin travel up my arm and wrap around my heart. She tugged her hand away. “I shouldn’t have come. It should’ve only been the team. I told Cam maybe it would be best if I stayed with the kids tonight instead of—”

“It wouldn’t have been best for me,” I interrupted.

She blinked at me in surprise.

She couldn’t be any more surprised than I was. The crazy thing was, I meant it, even though I didn’t understand a lick of all the shit going through my head.

For one thing, I was thinking a hell of a lot more about myself than I was about her—wondering if she’d mind helping me forget all about my woe-is-me attitude of late, among other things. For another, Cadence was Jonny’s sister—not someone I needed to involve myself with by any stretch of the imagination if I valued my life and keeping my balls in their present location. And finally, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get involved with anyone, let alone her. I’d only been on my own for a few months, and I kind of liked it. Yeah, I was lonely sometimes, but I also had more freedom than I’d ever known in my life. Growing up with six brothers, not to mention twenty-some-odd teammates every year who might as well be my brothers, left me with very little time by myself.

But there was something niggling at the back of my mind. Something that felt a lot like guilt, and I didn’t have a clue what I had to feel guilty about, beyond finding Jonny’s sister hot as hell.

Except…

Cadence Johnson wasn’t just Jonny’s sister. She was the belle of the ball as far as Canada was concerned. Hell, most of America and the rest of the world had fallen for her in the Winter Games, too, and they hadn’t let her go. Her smile was infectious, and she seemed as sweet on the inside as she appeared on the outside. At the moment, she was a bigger deal than Katie had been at the height of her popularity, and Katie’s shine kept fading as she spent more and more time in Portland writing songs instead of in Hollywood being a starlet.

And there was a part of me—an ugly, petty part of me, which might be better kept under tight wraps—that thought maybe I could finally be the better Babcock brother, at least in one way, if I managed to snag Cadence Johnson as my girlfriend.

I usually managed to keep that part quiet. I used the less generous side of me as fuel to work harder, to improve myself in whatever ways I could. Right now, he was screaming to be set free.

I crossed over and grabbed a beer from the fridge, my eyes settling on her again when I leaned against the counter and popped the bottle top. For the briefest moment, I thought there was something wary flashing through her eyes, but that something was gone as soon as it had appeared.

She should be wary of me. Lord knew I was.

Because I couldn’t seem to stop myself from acting out of jealousy, even though it was the last thing I should do.

I took a swig of my beer. “I don’t know how long you’ll be in town, but is there any chance you’d let me take you out one night?”

Before she could answer, Jonny came into the kitchen and headed for the fridge, glaring at me. He very well should glare at me, especially if he had any idea at all of what was going through my head. Which he almost definitely did. He was a guy. He had to know how hot Cadence was, even if he didn’t think of her in those terms.

I didn’t think he’d hit me. Not yet, at least. But I wasn’t about to take my eyes off him just in case.

He held out a hand for the bottle opener. I gave it to him, and he opened the two beers he’d retrieved.

“I like you, 501,” he said slowly. “Don’t do anything to make me change my mind.”

There wasn’t anything I could say, so I shook my head.

He grunted again and headed out with the beers. By the time he was gone, his sister was, too.

For a moment, I thought about finding out where she’d gone. Then I thought better of it. Jonny had warned me off, and even though she hadn’t said a word after I’d asked her out, her answer had been clear enough.

Cadence Johnson wasn’t interested in me. Smart girl.

Instead, I headed down the stairs with my beer to join Koz and the other single guys. There were a lot of ways I could spend my night that would be a hell of a lot worse than hanging out with them. They were my brothers, after all, almost as much as Jamie and the rest of my biological brothers.

Koz shot his head up from the pool table when I came around the corner. “You could’ve brought us some fucking beers, too.”

“I could have,” I said, smirking in an effort to forget the huge mistake I’d almost made. “I just thought you were already wasted, after the shit way you skated tonight.”

Then I ducked to avoid the cue chalk he tossed at my head.

CHAPTER TWO

CADENCE

“I THINK THAT’S good enough for today,” Ellen Simpson—the woman I’d recently chosen to be my new figure skating coach—said. She glanced down at her watch. “Why don’t you two spend the rest of our time practicing your stroke, trying to match each other? They’ll want their ice back soon.”

Anthony Young squeezed my hand and winked down at me, his every movement reassuring and comforting.

I steeled my spine and nodded. I’d made it through everything else to this point. There was no good reason—none at all—why I couldn’t handle a few more minutes skating at Anthony’s side, even if we might be a bit too close for my comfort.

Together, we took a breath. Then we pushed off as one, heading toward the opposite end of the ice from where my brother’s team would soon appear.

It was New Year’s Day, so the ice rink where Anthony usually skated was closed. Cam had made special arrangements with the Storm for us to use their practice facility for today’s tryout skate, but they had practice coming up shortly. If Anthony and I chose to work together beyond today, we’d do it at his regular rink and not at Storm headquarters.

“You feel as good about this as I do, don’t you?” he asked once we were out of Ellen’s earshot. “Please tell me you do. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Part of my certainty has to be due to the fact that I want this pairing to work out, but there’s more. There has to be more. Don’t you think?”

“It felt right within the first couple of minutes.” As right as I believed myself capable of feeling with a new partner, at least. But Anthony didn’t need to know my insecurities. There was no reason for me to let on precisely how anxious I’d been about the whole thing, or that my nerves went a heck of a lot deeper than typical new partner discomfort.

Anthony sighed and gently nudged my hand, drawing me in front of him so we were skating in a closer hold. He settled his right hand on my waist, taking my left in his as we continued striding in almost perfect sync. It wouldn’t take us long to learn one another’s tendencies, to breathe in time with each other. Not as long as I was able to let go of the past and remember that Anthony was not Guy. They weren’t the same man. I couldn’t put the years of Guy’s behavior on Anthony’s shoulders. He wasn’t meant to carry it.

Besides, I already knew Anthony’s skill level was on par with mine, and he knew the same about me. The two of us had been opposing each other in international competitions for years. We were each aware of the areas in which the other excelled and those where the other struggled. We could come into our new partnership with both eyes wide open.

When I’d heard through the grapevine that Anthony’s partner, Tamara Whitby, was retiring to start a family but Anthony wanted to continue with a new partner, I’d picked up the phone right away and called Ellen to set something up. I couldn’t run the risk of someone else reaching him before me, and he would be in high demand. Everyone involved was aware there were issues we’d have to work through, not the least of which was the problem of my citizenship, but none of that would matter at all if we weren’t compatible as partners. The skating had to come first; the rest would follow.

“We can make this work,” he said now, gently squeezing my hand.

“We can. We absolutely can. And we will.” I had to. No matter what, I wasn’t going back to Guy. Not ever. I would give up skating completely before I would do anything as drastic as that.

After we made a turn around one end of the ice, Anthony released my hand to pick me up in a lift. I settled my hands over his and tried to focus on keeping my core strong, but it wasn’t any use. This was the first time in months that anyone had lifted me on the ice. The first time since the last time I’d skated with Guy. A thousand painful memories raced in front of my eyes, making it impossible to breathe. Something chemical inside me caused me to shake, and I couldn’t make it stop.

Faster than I expected, Anthony had me safely back on my skates. “Too soon?” he asked, spinning around in front of me so we could look at each other. “I just… Never mind. I shouldn’t have tried that yet.”

I wouldn’t pretend I didn’t understand what he was asking me. He was aware, of course. At least, he knew as much as anyone did. Some parts of the situation, I’d kept to myself. But word of these things had always traveled fast in our world. When a partnership like I’d had with Guy came to an end, whatever was public knowledge about the breakup—true or not—spread like wildfire. And since we were the reigning gold medalists, there was no hiding the fact that I’d decided to move on. I only hoped the whole world didn’t know the full truth about why I’d made my decision.

Still, if Anthony and I were going to make a go of this, I had to get over myself and learn to trust him. A line my sports psychologist had repeated again and again for the last several months hit me now: trust is a choice. In both my head and my heart, I knew Anthony was not Guy. I had no reason to distrust Anthony, and every reason to give him my trust. I simply had to choose to do it.

Simply. Ha ha.

So I would. Right at this moment. I bit the inside of my cheek to focus on the here and now. Then I squared my shoulders as I looked up at him, shaking my head. “It’s all right. We’re going to have to do this a lot if we’re going to have any shot at making this work, aren’t we?”

“That’s no reason to rush you.”

“It’s fine, Anthony.” I took his hand again to emphasize my words. “Really. I’m fine. I’m not a crystal vase, ready to shatter at a moment’s notice. You don’t have to be so careful with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, but his smile softened the words. “Ellen beat that into my head years ago. My partner and her safety are in my hands. I’ve got to treat you with the utmost care.”

I blinked a few times to ward off the tears threatening to fill my eyes. Crying would only prove he was right, that I was delicate and fragile. That I was one fall or missed hand connection away from breaking. Shattering.

That couldn’t happen—I couldn’t fall apart, and I couldn’t let him think I was on the verge of it, either. I refused to allow it.

The big double doors at the other end of the rink banged open, and deep, rumbling, masculine voices flooded the space. Time for us to clear off so the Storm could have their practice.

I’d hoped we would be finished and well off the ice before the team arrived. I didn’t mind running into Cam, but I wasn’t so inclined to see Levi Babcock right now. Not after the way I’d sprinted away from him without explanation last night at Keith Burns’s party. The thing was, Levi had smiled and flirted with me the same way Guy had done so often early in our partnership, and the similarities gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Only I didn’t know if my gut instincts where Levi was concerned were warranted or if I was putting my prior experiences with an abusive ass on him for no good reason. I needed to talk to someone about him. Someone who knew him—but not Cam. My brother would likely murder his teammate before there was any good reason to do so. That was one of many reasons I’d never told Cam anything about all that had gone on between me and Guy. He was aware of my injury, and that I’d decided to make a change at the same time. That was all.

The team started to come out on the ice, and Koz cursed—something about all the holes in the ice from our toe picks. Without another word, Anthony and I headed for the door Ellen was holding open for us. I took a seat on the aluminum bleachers near the ice. Anthony sat next to me, and Ellen stood in front of us, leaning back against the boards as we undid our laces. More laughter than cursing filled the arena as my brother’s teammates headed out for their practice.

Cam caught my eye and winked at me. I nodded at him, trying to smile, but then Levi skated up alongside him. He said something to my brother, but then he waved at me. I ducked my head. This was not what I wanted to happen. I wasn’t ready for it—for deciding if I could trust my instincts about men. Yeah, six months had passed since I’d made up my mind and left Guy, but six months wasn’t too terribly long. Was it? Could I learn to read a man’s intentions, to see into his heart, in such a short amount of time?

I wasn’t so sure.

Ellen zipped up her sweater and crossed her arms, shivering. “So, I think it’s a good idea for the two of you to spend some time together off the ice, too, getting to know each other. And then I’ll talk to each of you—separately—in a few days, so we can see where everybody stands.”

I’d already opened my mouth to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary, that Anthony and I were a good fit and we could go ahead and move forward with things, when he spoke up beside me.

“I think it’s a great plan.” He turned to me, tossing his skates in a duffel bag. “Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?”

“I promised Sara I’d help her take the kids to an indoor park—”

“Perfect,” he cut in before I could finish putting words to my excuse. “Sounds like a fun way to hang out together. And we’ll have your sister-in-law and the kids as a safety net. Should I meet you at your brother’s house, then? What time?”

A safety net. He was determined to protect me in every way. I couldn’t exactly say I was surprised, since his protectiveness and general kindness had as much to do with why I’d chosen Anthony to be my new partner as his skill level, but his determination still took me aback. I wasn’t used to men treating me this way. Not anyone other than Cam. And he was my brother. I was his youngest sister, the baby of the family. He had to treat me like that. It was written into family law or something.

Five minutes later, Anthony and I were finished removing our skates and had our plans for tomorrow all worked out. He and Ellen headed out, but I wanted to make my way up to see Mr. Sutter and thank him for letting us use the ice today before leaving.

In order to go upstairs, I had to walk past the side of the rink where the team was congregating next to the benches. Cam skated over as I passed.

“So? Is he the one?” he asked.

“Maybe. Probably.” I shifted my gym bag from my left shoulder to my right and hitched my hip against the boards. “We’re getting together tomorrow afternoon to hang out. Get to know each other, that sort of thing.”

His forehead creased over his nose. “He’d better not try anything.”

“We’re going to be with Sara and the kids,” I said, rolling my eyes. Cam could go from docile to murderous in 0.18 seconds. I appreciated that he wanted to look out for me, but there was no call for him to go all caveman. Especially not over Anthony. “You do realize he’s gay, right?” I added, just in case.

Cam raised a brow. “You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent positive.” I couldn’t count how many times I’d caught Anthony holding hands backstage at various competitions with his longtime fiancé, Jesse Schwartz. Jesse was a men’s singles skater, so he was always around at the same competitions. “Anthony’s gay, and he’s been with his fiancé for close to forever. Frankly, I’m shocked they haven’t gone ahead and tied the knot yet, since gay marriage is legal all over the country. And even if he weren’t gay, he’s just as overprotective of me as you are, already, and we aren’t even officially partners yet.”

“Good.”

“Good for you,” I said in a huff.

“And for you, too.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I worry about you,” he said. “About you getting hurt again.” The tone of his voice made it clear he didn’t only mean physically. Of course, he and the rest of the family knew that Guy and I had been a couple, not strictly an on-ice partnership, but I’d done everything possible to keep the whole truth from them. There were some things it was better they didn’t know.

“I know you do.” I stretched up on my toes and tugged on his arm so he’d bend down enough for me to kiss him on the cheek. “You don’t need to, though.”

By that point, the coaches had made their way out onto the ice, and several of the guys were starting to skate drills and shoot pucks at the goaltenders. But not Levi. He was skating toward us, which made me antsy to get the hell out of Dodge.

“You should probably start warming up or something,” I said, inching back to make my exit.

Cam glanced up at the clock on the scoreboard. “Still have ten minutes before practice officially starts.”

Damn. I took a full step back, starting to turn. “Well, I should—”

“501 tells me he asked you out last night,” my brother interrupted, reaching for my hand to stop me. “He said you didn’t answer. You just disappeared.”

“Yeah…” I shifted my gym bag to the other shoulder again, glancing past my brother. Levi had been held up by one of the other guys. Thank goodness. But I didn’t know how long this reprieve would last.

Cam glowered at me. He should know better than to think looking at me like that would make me nervous. I knew him too well. Underneath all the muscle and bravado, he was as soft and sweet as a marshmallow.

He kicked his skate against the boards. “So he was doing what I thought when I came in.”

“Wait a minute. You mean you weren’t sure what was going on, but you threatened him for the heck of it?”

“I’ll threaten anyone who steps a toe out of line around my baby sister.”

Didn’t I know it. He’d already proven that by having a minor freak out moment about Anthony.

“Why didn’t you tell me one of my teammates hit on you?” Cam demanded, turning into a surly, growly papa bear.

“He didn’t hit on me. He asked me out. There’s a difference.”

“Not much.”

“Enough.”

“You’re splitting hairs, Cadence.”

I shifted my bag again, not because it was heavy but because it gave me something to do with myself. Which I needed. Desperately. Anything other than to sit here under Cam’s scrutiny.

“If he didn’t hit on you, why are you so nervous?”

Because Levi wasn’t talking to the other guy anymore. He was about half a second away from us, and I wanted to skedaddle before the uncomfortableness of this conversation swelled to mammoth proportions. But instead of hightailing it out of the rink, I did the stupidest thing I could have possibly come up with. I looked up at my brother, stared straight into his eyes, and told a bald-faced lie.

LEVI

“BECAUSE YOU GOT it wrong,” Cadence said, right as I skated into earshot. “He did ask me out, but I didn’t disappear before answering him. I said yes.”

“You what?” Jonny roared at the same time as I said, “You did?”

Jonny turned on me, eyes blazing like he was about to bash my nose in.

“She did,” I said, putting a bit more distance between us, just in case.

Only she hadn’t. I would have known if she’d said she’d go out with me. It would have made the rest of the night a hell of a lot more interesting, because I would have spent the time trying to get to know her better instead of drinking as much as possible to ignore the fact that I’d struck out, proving once again that my brother was the better Babcock.

The look in Jonny’s eyes was enough to pin me in place. Then he spun around to face his sister again. “You’re not going out with him.”

“I am if I want to. I may be your baby sister, Cam, but let me remind you. I’m all grown up now. An adult. I can make my own decisions.”

“Not if those decisions have anything to do with dating some asswipe teammate of mine, you can’t.”

“It’s a date. One date. That doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“What the fuck kind of screwed up definition for the word do you have in your head?” he bellowed, and half the team turned to see the show.

“Watch your fucking language in front of your sister,” Koz shouted from the other end of the ice. “Fucking douche canoe.”

“One date,” Cadence reiterated, undeterred by the way the guys were acting. Jonny had never been much of a practical joker. He was quiet and kept to himself, for the most part, so I wasn’t sure how much of this kind of behavior she would have ever been exposed to before. Still, it was a good sign if she wasn’t letting the guys’ crudeness sway her now.

“When is this supposed to happen?”

Cadence looked at me, her expression one of pure sweetness as she shrugged and raised her brows in question.

Holy hell. Maybe this was actually going to happen. After the way she’d run off, I’d convinced myself she wasn’t interested. But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe she simply hadn’t wanted to hash it out in front of her brother last night. And if that was the case, I couldn’t say I blamed her. It was damned uncomfortable trying to do this with him standing between us in the present.

“Tomorrow,” I spit out. “Tomorrow night.”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’re picking me up at eight, right?”

I supposed that meant I was. “Yeah, eight.”

The way she looked at me then, gratitude mixed in with her undeniably adorable charm, was all I required to breathe easier.

“I’ll see you then,” she said. Then, like a spring breeze, she floated past us and took the warmth of the sunshine with her.

I started to skate back over to my new defense partner, Chris “Hammer” Hammond, but Jonny grabbed a fistful of my jersey and stopped me.

“Everything you do to her, I will do to you. Got it?” His voice was quiet but as intimidating as anything I’d ever heard.

“Everything?” I tried to swallow but choked on my tongue.

“Everything. And I’ll make it hurt a hell of a lot worse than you hurt her.”

“What makes you think I’m going to hurt her?” I asked. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say when he might as well be breathing fire through his nostrils.

He took so long answering me I started to wish the fire were real, so he could melt the ice beneath my feet and I could disappear through the floor. But then he said, “No, 501. I don’t think you’re going to hurt her. Because you’re not stupid. You’re a smart kid, so you know better than to do anything that would hurt her. Which is why you’re going to take her on a date tomorrow, and you’re going to be perfectly fucking nice but as interesting as a bag of rocks. You’re going to keep your fucking hands to yourself. You’re going to bring her home safe—early—and then you’re going to move on with your life and let her move on with hers. You got it?”

Before I could answer, the coaches called us out to the center of the ice for practice to start.

I was in a daze the rest of the day. I didn’t have the first clue what had happened last night, when Cadence had run off after I’d asked her out. I had even less understanding about what had happened this morning or why she wanted to go out with me now.

All I knew was that if Jonny could come up with a way to be a fly on the wall during this date tomorrow night, he would do it—so I needed to be on my guard and make sure I didn’t do anything I’d regret. I had no doubt he’d meant what he’d said.

CHAPTER THREE

CADENCE

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME,” I said to Sara the second I walked into the house. I tossed my gym bag on the floor just inside the door and put my purse and coat in the hall closet.

“Do I, now?” my sister-in-law said, sarcasm dripping from every pore of her being as she held out Cassidy toward me. “I have to help you?” She scowled to add further emphasis when I raised a brow in question, then she inclined her head toward everything around her. She was standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by what appeared to be a flour explosion, a mess I had completely missed in my panic. Connor was nowhere in sight, which likely meant he was the cause of her current catastrophe. That little boy caused more mayhem than all the Allstate commercials combined, and he could cause his damage in the blink of an eye. And he usually giggled about the destruction afterward, too, the little stinker.

I took my niece without hesitation. Playing with Cassidy while Sara cleaned sounded a heck of a lot better than trying to figure out how to remove all that flour, and besides, I could never get enough baby time. But I regretted my decision almost as soon as the squirming, gurgling girl was in my arms. She stunk to high hell. I scrunched up my nose, in a vain attempt to prevent the smell from making its way into my senses.

Sara rolled her eyes at my response. “Cassidy needs to be changed, and as you can see, I’m in the middle of cleaning up World War III.”

Diaper duty wasn’t a foreign concept for me, but it wasn’t exactly my favorite way to interact with Cassidy. Granted, changing diapers was still better than cleaning up Connor’s latest art project. Two minutes, tops, and I’d be done with the nastiness. Sara would probably be busy for another hour or more. Quickly weighing the two options, I carried Cassidy upstairs and took care of her own form of tiny, but disgusting, explosion.

Connor came in around the time I was fastening the new diaper in place. “Is Mommy mad?” he asked tentatively. White powder covered him from head to toe. What the heck had he done, roll in the stuff?

I gave him my best effort at a stern look. “She’s trying to clean up a bunch of flour in the living room. Do you know how flour got all over the place? Flour is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

He shrugged with an I-don’t-know expression, his lips turning down dramatically. “I think Cassidy did it.”

“Hmm,” I said, tugging the little girl’s ruffled pants back into place. “I wonder how she’s so clean, then.”

“You just cleaned her up!”

“All I did was change her diaper, buddy. And if Cassidy did it, how come you’re the one who’s covered in flour?”

“She throwed it on me!” he said, as adamant as ever.

I picked up Cassidy and put her over my shoulder. Almost immediately, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and started chewing on it. Note to self: always keep my hair pulled into a ponytail around her. Too late this time.

“You know,” I said slowly, facing Connor fully, “you should think long and hard about what you’re going to say to Mommy when she asks you about the flour. Because you don’t want to tell her a lie. Lying is bad.” I should know, since I’d flat out lied to Cam not so long ago.

“I was just trying to help her make some damn cookies,” he said, tossing his hands in the air. Bits of flour dust floated all around him in a cloud, and he sneezed, which only kicked up a new dust cloud.

I had to bite down on my tongue not to laugh. “I’d suggest you not use that word when your daddy asks you about it later.”

His eyes went wide. “Don’t tell Daddy! Please, CayCay.”

“Oh, Daddy’s gonna find out,” Sara said from the doorway, Roomba in hand, causing her son to spin around in a panic. “The only question is if you’re going to tell him or if I will.”

The next thing I knew, Connor raced over to me and threw both arms around my thigh, covering me in his flour.

“I think maybe you should tell Daddy,” I suggested.

“But I’m not asposed to help in the kitchen.”

“No,” his mother said dryly. “You’re not. At least not without adult supervision. Never mind the fact that you weren’t even in the kitchen.”

“Can I bake cookies with CayCay?” he asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.

“I don’t know if your aunt will want to bake cookies with you after this,” Sara said.

“We can,” I said. Connor gave me a white-faced grin, and I ruffled his hair to dust some of the flour out of it. “After you tell Daddy what you did,” I added. “And in the meantime, how about we put you in the tub?”

Sara winked at me while Connor was otherwise occupied pouting, and then she headed back downstairs to continue Operation De-Flour the House. I got Connor in the tub. Cassidy wanted to climb in with him so badly she nearly pulled herself over the side of the bath still fully clothed, so I stripped her down and tossed her in, too. Giving her a bath wouldn’t hurt anything. By the time I had them both clean, dried, and dressed, Sara had finished the bulk of the cleanup.

She turned on a Disney movie for the kids and flopped down on the couch, brushing hair and sweat off her brow. I was a bit more careful in taking a seat on Cam’s recliner, not trusting I wouldn’t end up covered in white. Then she raised her brows. “So? I have to help you?”

Right. The kids had been a fantastic distraction, but there wasn’t a chance in hell Sara would let things go so easily.

“I think I screwed up,” I said.

“What? Coming here? I thought you and Anthony were sure to be a great fit.”

“No, the problem’s not him!” I didn’t know how much to tell her. There were some parts of the story I couldn’t bear for Cam to know, but half the reason I’d settled on trying to partner with Anthony was because he was based out of Portland. That meant I could be here with Sara. If anyone would understand the things I was only now coming to terms with, it was her. But would she run straight to my brother and blab everything I told her? I wasn’t sure. And then I’d been stupid enough to tell Levi Babcock I’d go out with him, which was merely one more complication. My life was already too complicated by half. I was in one hell of a pickle.

“It’s not Anthony,” Sara said dryly, after I’d been quiet for too long. “Then what? Don’t like the coach? Don’t want to have Cam breathing down your neck all the time? Help me out here, Cadence, or I don’t know what I can do for you.”

“I told Levi Babcock I’d go out with him,” I blurted out before I lost my courage.

She raised a brow. “Does your brother know?”

I nodded.

She let out a slow breath. “Well, it could be worse.”

“How?”

“Cam actually likes 501. Or at least he doesn’t hate him. 501’s a good kid, and we know he comes from a good family. Everything will be okay. Cam might piss and moan about it for a bit, put up a good show, but he trusts you to make good decisions for yourself. He knows you’re a smart cookie.”

“But I’m not sure I trust me to make good decisions,” I said.

“Back up. What?” Sara shook her head, perplexed. “Are you second-guessing things with Guy?”

Not in the least. I probably should have left him, broken off that partnership, almost five years ago. Definitely by a couple of years ago, once our relationship had morphed from being nothing more than partners on the ice to being a couple. That side of things never should have happened. All the warning signs about how he would treat me were already there, yet I’d allowed him to convince me he loved me. He’d sworn I was his princess, that he would cherish me and turn me into his queen.

Lies. All of it. And the worst thing was, I’d known before I’d ever gone out on a single date with him. It was obvious from how he would berate me in practice. How every time we lost points in a competition, it was my fault. How he would yell and scream horrible things at me, and then beg me to forgive him. He never berated me while anyone was around, of course. He saved all of that behavior for when the two of us were alone.

Why would I think things should be any different just because we were romantically linked? Yet I’d convinced myself it would all be better, and I’d suffered through his antics for years before I’d finally gotten the gumption to put an end to it. If only I’d found my courage sooner. Things could be very different now if I had.

But living in regret wasn’t me, and I couldn’t allow myself to wallow in it. I had to find a way to move forward.

At the moment, Connor was acting out the scene of the movie, pretending to be Lightning McQueen and racing circles all around his sister, who was cackling at his antics. Buster, my brother’s deaf Pomeranian, was chasing Connor and barking at him. They were loud, which might be a good thing. It meant they weren’t paying any attention and therefore wouldn’t repeat anything we said. That little boy was a parrot if ever a boy was one, repeating everything he shouldn’t.

I turned my attention back to Sara and chewed on the inside corner of my lips. “This isn’t about Guy. Or…well…not like you think.” I took another look over at the kids, found Connor still watching the movie while hanging upside down from a chair with his knees hooked over the seat to keep him in place. Cassidy was almost to the point of giggling herself asleep. Must be almost nap time. Buster thought so, too. He had stopped chasing Connor to snuggle up beside Cassidy on the floor, sighing contentedly.

“Are you finally going to tell me why you broke everything off with him?” Sara asked.

“He dropped me,” I said, blinking back tears. I would not cry over this. Not again.

“Yeah, when you were practicing a lift,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me like she was trying to read between the lines. “You hurt an ankle and needed some surgery or another to fix it. It was all over the news. Even here. But that can’t have been the first time he’d dropped you, surely.”

“No.” I took another calming breath, attempting to fill my lungs with the peace that had been eluding me for years. “But it was the first time he dropped me intentionally.”

“What the ever loving fuck?” she practically shouted, coming halfway up from the couch before she glanced over at the kids and realized what she’d done. For once, Connor didn’t immediately repeat her. He looked over with worried eyes, likely sensing the very different tone coming from his mother this time. “It’s okay, buddy,” she said, visibly putting on a calm front for his benefit. Then she turned back to me. “Why the hell would he drop you purposely?” she hissed. “That doesn’t make sense. You two were dating. You’d been partners for more than half a decade. You’d just won a fucking gold medal together a couple of months before.” She held out her hands, either in question or defeat.

“He dropped me because I was pregnant. Because if I stayed pregnant and delivered a baby, we would lose almost an entire year of training and competition, right at the height of our careers.”

She stared at me, blinking a few times. With every second ticking by, I watched comprehension dawn in her eyes, leading first to understanding, then to compassion, and finally to outright fury like I’d never seen in her. Her voice was as soft as I’d ever heard from her when she said, “So he wanted you to miscarry.”

I nodded.

“The surgery wasn’t for your ankle, was it?”

I shook my head. “My ankle was only sprained. A bad sprain, but nothing that would require surgery.”

“You needed a D and C?” Sara had tears in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“If I ever see that motherfucker again, I will rip him limb from limb, take his remains to Florida, and feed him to the alligators.”

Never in a million years would I have expected to laugh so soon after revealing such a gut-wrenching thing, but I couldn’t stop myself. A gale of giggles bubbled up from my belly and came out alongside the tears I’d been holding back.

“I’m not joking,” Sara said. “And once Cam finds out—”

“He can’t find out,” I cut in. “I don’t want him to know.”

“But… He’s your brother, hon. He loves you to bits. He needs to know.”

“No, he doesn’t. Because everything you want to do to Guy, he honestly would do. And worse. So he can’t ever know.”

“Why the hell did you tell me?” she demanded, throwing up her hands. “I’m not good at secrets. Not when it comes to keeping things about my husband’s sister away from him. Especially not something like this. You’re asking for a hell of a lot, Cadence.”

“I asked you because you’re the only person I know who understands what I’ve been through.” At least with part of it.

Sara had miscarried before. She could understand at least that part of things, although I doubted she’d ever been in a relationship like I’d had with Guy. But I needed someone I could talk to, someone who could help me sort through all the insanity in my head. I couldn’t go to my sisters or my mom. I’d fed them the same story we’d told the press about my ankle, and that was all they ever needed to know. They all believed I lived a charmed life, and I was perfectly content to let them continue thinking it. The same went for Cam. He couldn’t know. But Sara could…and she could threaten to feed Guy to the alligators.

“Please?” I said, since she was still staring at me like I’d grown a few heads. “I just need someone I can talk to about it, but I don’t want to turn it into a big thing, you know?”

“Honey, there’s no turning it into a big thing involved. It is a big deal. Huge. Are you sure he dropped you intentionally? It wasn’t an accident?”

I’d been dropped accidentally enough times to be able to tell the difference, and if Sara really thought about it, she would realize that. “I’m sure. One hundred percent positive. He meant to do it.”

She scowled. She didn’t flat out reject my pleas, but she didn’t exactly agree to help me out with my brother, either. This was going to be harder than I’d hoped.

“And you’re going on a date with 501?” she asked. “Are you ready to date after all of that? Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no way.”

“Tomorrow. And you’re right, I’m not even close to ready.” I was still trying to screw my head on straight again.

“Well… At least he’s a good guy. Maybe you don’t trust your own judgment about men right now, but you can trust mine and Cam’s. It’ll be all right. Just don’t get in over your head, okay? Start out as friends or something. Is it too late to make it a double date? I bet Babs and Katie—”

Right then, the front door opened and my brother walked inside.

As soon as Connor saw his father, he raced over to hug him. “Daddy! We’re gonna feed the motherfucker to the agilators!”

I turned panicked eyes to Sara, who was cool and collected as ever. “He means 501. If he tries anything with Cadence when they’re on their date tomorrow.”

Something told me she was constantly coming up with quick excuses as to why Connor said some of the things he said.

Cam narrowed his eyes at Sara, but he didn’t try to argue about it. He let out a hmphing sort of sound and picked Connor up.

I tried to remember how to breathe.

“CAN WE FEED him to the agilators, too?” Connor asked, looking up at Anthony with a toddler version of an evil grin.

“No, we can’t.” I had a hard time not laughing at this kid. I didn’t know how either Cam or Sara could ever keep a straight face with him. “We’re not feeding anyone to the alligators.”

“Mommy said we could.”

“Are there going to be alligators at the park?” Anthony asked, taking Connor’s coat from me and holding it out to help the little boy into it. “I’m scared of alligators.” He winked at me.

“You’re scared?” Connor cackled while I busied myself with grabbing the diaper bag and lunch box filled with at least four times more snacks than we could possibly need for a two-hour trip to play.

Sara rolled her eyes and finished buttoning up Cassidy’s coat. “Come on. I don’t know about alligators…”

“They’re gonna eat him,” Connor said gleefully. “And I’m gonna watch.”

Somehow, the three of us adults managed to load the two kids into Sara’s SUV and climb in ourselves, along with all our mounds of stuff, and soon enough were on our way to the indoor park. No sooner had we arrived than Connor seemingly forgot all about alligators due to the massive ball pit waiting for him. I managed to pry his coat free before he sprinted away and dove in without waiting to see how deep it was.

Connor sunk in up to his head, but he had the biggest grin on his face. I doubted he would care if he went completely under. At least the pit was full of balls and not water.

Sara busied herself with taking Cassidy’s coat off and finding a play area more appropriate for someone of her size, leaving me and Anthony to find a locker in the coat room to store all our stuff.

“He seems like quite a handful,” Anthony said, taking the diaper bag and snacks from me.

I raised a brow and chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet. He seems positively well behaved so far today.”

Anthony snort-laughed. “Should make for an interesting afternoon.”

Which would suit me nicely. The more interesting this afternoon became, the less time I’d have to worry about my date with Levi Babcock tonight.

With everything safely stowed for the time being, we headed back out to the main play area. Sara and Cassidy had found some blocks and another mother and baby, leaving Connor to the two of us. The holy terror himself was busy flinging his body through the balls toward some bigger kids, using his arms to make it seem like he was a gator trying to chomp them. I let out an internal sigh and tried to mentally prepare myself to go haul him off before he went overboard and hurt another child. I’d barely resigned myself to what I needed to do before Anthony kicked off his shoes and jumped into the fray himself.

Connor gator-chomped Anthony’s arm and giggled.

Anthony let out a fake howl of pain. “You got me!”

“The agilators got you.”

“I’m dying! Help. Help me, Cadence.” He held out his arms, which allowed Connor to jump on his midsection and bury him in the ball pit until I could only see his feet.

“CayCay can’t save you from the agilators.”

In no time, half the other kids in the place had joined Connor in climbing all over Anthony, but he only laughed and egged them on. It only took him minutes to become the prime attraction of the day, a human jungle gym for their amusement. He laughed and joked with them, giving in to any punishment Connor and his newfound friends saw fit to give him.

I found a nearby spot on a bench where I could be sure Connor didn’t cause any true harm. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket only a moment after I took my seat. I dug it out and swiped the screen to find a text message from Sara.

I like Anthony, too. Just in case you don’t trust yourself in determining whether you should like him. Don’t know him as well as 501, but there’s no need to feed him to the agilators.

I laughed out loud, which caught Anthony’s attention. He flashed a grin in my direction—a distraction that lasted barely long enough for Connor and the other kids to pile on top of him again—and I did my best to sit back and enjoy the day without worrying about any of the men who were at the forefront of my mind.

LEVI

AT TEN TILL eight, I parked behind Jonny’s pickup in the driveway, my knuckles practically white as I gripped my steering wheel. There was no fucking good reason for me to be this nervous. Yeah, Cadence was Jonny’s sister, but despite appearances, he was a reasonable guy. Besides, he’d married his coach’s daughter. And my brother had married the daughter of one of the other coaches. The guy who used to be the captain of the Storm before Jamie had married a teammate’s kid sister. It wasn’t like any of this was unheard of or out of the ordinary, and especially not around this team.

But no matter what kind of pep talk I tried to give myself, I was anxious as all hell. And I didn’t like it.

Dating wasn’t exactly a hardship for me. Women tended to throw themselves at me, especially now that Jamie was well and truly taken. It tended to go with the territory when you had the trademark Babcock dimples and propensity for blushing. I’d even gone in for a spray tan a couple of times to see if darker skin would cut down on the blushing, but it didn’t seem to matter. Blushing ran in the family. Plus, all the guys felt the need to rib me for it, which only made me blush worse.

Sitting in my car wasn’t going to do me any good, so I cut off the engine and headed for the porch. I hadn’t even gotten my finger on the doorbell when the door flung open, and a wet, naked Connor Johnson grinned up at me. “You’re a motherfucker. Mommy’s gonna feed you to the agilators.”

Buster followed after him, barking at me.

“How about you don’t jump on my balls first?”

“I wanna go back and jump in the balls again,” he said, grabbing my hand and taking off down the steps toward my car. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, buddy.” I ushered him back inside so I could shut the door and keep the cold out. “I don’t know anything about that…”

Sara came down the stairs with Cassidy wrapped up in a hooded bunny towel. “Hey,” she said when she saw me. “I didn’t hear the bell.”

“I didn’t ring it. Connor let me in before I could.”

She scowled at her son. “What did we say about answering the door?”

“Only Mommy and Daddy and CayCay can.” That kid didn’t look the least bit contrite.

“Mm hmm. And what were you supposed to do before leaving the bathroom?”

“Dry off and put on my Batman underwears.” He looked up at me, like he was searching for an accomplice. Then he grinned. “501 said balls.”

“So did you, buddy,” Sara said, trying hard not to laugh.

“Can I go to the ball place with him?”

“Maybe some other day.” Sara gave him a stern look. “Go. Dry. Put on Batman.”

The naked boy streaked up the stairs with the dog hot on his heels. When he got to the top, he flung himself at Cadence, who was making her way down, apparently using her clothes as a towel to dry himself off.

“Connor Allan Johnson,” Sara warned, shaking her head in my direction.

“The ball place?” I asked.

Cadence flashed apologetic eyes in my direction as she headed down the stairs. “We took them to an indoor park today. He spent hours pretending he was an alligator eating Anthony in the ball pit. Are we doing anything outside? I’ll need to go change into something dry if we are.” She had on a gold sweater dress that hugged her curves and ended an inch or two above the knee, and some sort of strappy heels that made her legs look long and sleek.

“Not tonight,” I assured her. “Indoor only. So as long as you think you’ll dry off soon… I don’t mind waiting if you want to change, though.” Although, that would leave me subject to whatever tortures Jonny might have in mind if he came in from wherever he was hiding.

Not only that, but I hoped she’d stay in this dress. The material didn’t leave much to the imagination, but that didn’t stop my imagination from running overtime.

“Nah. I’m fine. Let’s leave before Connor does something else to sabotage me.” She took her coat and purse out of the closet and allowed me to help her into it.

“We’ll leave the light on,” Sara called as we headed out the door.

Cadence nodded and waved.

Once we were in the car and on our way to the Moda Center, she turned to me. “Cam hasn’t been giving you a hard time, has he? I didn’t mean for it to go down like that yesterday. In front of him and all.”

I shrugged. He wasn’t being any worse than I’d expect. “Why did you lie to him?”

She raised a brow.

“You didn’t agree to go out with me when I asked you. I would have remembered. Trust me.”

“Maybe my brother doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Maybe not. But maybe, if I’m going to be part of your lies, I should know what’s going on.”

“Maybe you should,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

We were at a red light, so I faced her for a moment. Her face was still lit up with the same gorgeous smile she usually bore, but it didn’t reach all the way to her eyes again, taking me back to the moment she’d won the gold medal and should have been on top of the world. Seeing her like that crushed a bit of my heart. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand her.

But damn if I didn’t want to know her well enough to figure out everything about her.

“You’re a web of secrets, Cadence.”

She ducked her head down and stared at her lap. “Only a few.”

“A few big ones.”

“Could be.”

The light turned green. Soon, we were in the parking garage.

“There’s no hockey game tonight, is there?” she asked.

I parked and flipped down my sun visor, grabbing the two tickets I’d stashed there. I handed them to her.

“The End of All Things?” There was a hint of awe in her tone.

“Katie hooked me up.” I winked. “There are perks to having a famous sister-in-law.”

I reached for her hand as we headed into the arena, not sure if she’d let me touch her or not. She didn’t cringe or flinch away, so I wrapped her hand in mine and held on as we made our way through the crowd.

There was a war going on in my head, though.

A part of me was crowing like a rooster, because Cadence Johnson was on an actual date with me. She was even more famous than my famous sister-in-law, and now that she’d agreed to give me a chance, I had the opportunity to turn our relationship into something more. That was the asshole part of me, and right now his voice was becoming seriously loud in my head.

Another part of me simply wanted to figure out what secrets she was keeping…and find a way to make that smile reach her eyes. I didn’t know what to call that part of me. His voice was quiet but persistent.

I had no earthly idea which side would win.

CHAPTER FOUR

LEVI

“CAM’S NOT GOING to bed until I get back,” Cadence said. “You know that, right? It’s one of those overprotective big brother things. I don’t think he’ll ever outgrow that. Even once all his little sisters are married off to men he approves of, he won’t stop…he’ll end up shifting all the focus to Cassidy.”

She was smiling. A real smile, even. One that reached all the way to her eyes. There was something magic about her eyes. The hazel in them seemed to change color with her mood. When she was wary, they were almost brown, dark and intense like a cup of rich coffee. When she was focused on something and thinking hard, they turned to a light golden color. But now, when she was relaxed and enjoying herself, they were morphing into something soft and green. So far, I’d seen each of those colors tonight, only sparking my curiosity to learn how many other hues might be found in them at different times.

“Yeah, I know. Poor Cassidy.” I stretched my hand out across the table at Shari’s, a twenty-four-hour diner we’d come to after the concert, tracing my fingers over Cadence’s upturned palm and memorizing the curvature of the lines and the softness of her skin. I knew how late it was—already well after midnight. We had a game tomorrow, so I had to be back at the Moda Center early for morning skate, and the last thing I needed to do was stay up all night talking to Cadence. But it was exactly what I wanted to do.

As the night had gone on, she’d gradually loosened up around me, visibly relaxing. The music had been the first thing to help her let go of whatever had her all bound up tight. Katie had hooked us up with tickets on the floor, only a few rows back from the stage, and the speakers were so loud that even now, more than an hour after we’d left, the drum beat was pulsing through my body. I could still feel it, but Cadence was practically vibrating with excitement and energy. It was as if her true self had been in hibernation, but the bass and guitar had spoken to her soul and brought her back to life.

“What’s it like being teammates with your brother?” she asked, giving me a smile that was at once both sweet and coy. She took a sip from her coffee to hide it, but that didn’t do anything to mask the teasing expression in her eyes.

“You realize that’s a loaded question, right?”

She gave me a blatantly unapologetic wink.

“Jamie’s been my best friend for twenty-four years. But he’s also had two years on me through my whole life, so he’s always been a few steps ahead.”

“So you compare yourself to him?”

“Not on purpose. The comparisons simply happen. And he always comes out on top.”

“It can’t be always. There has to be something you’re better at than him.”

“Yeah? Like what? Help me sort it out.”

“Well, there’s that dimple you’ve got on your left cheek.”

I shook my head. “They’re a Babcock family staple. Jamie’s got two of them, one on each side.”

“Oh,” Cadence said, deflating. “Well, maybe one is better for some people?”

“Some people?” I cocked my head to the side. Yes, I was fishing for the answer I wanted, and I wasn’t too proud to admit it.

“I kind of like your single dimple.”

“Only kind of?” I gave her an exaggerated pout. “So now you can see where I’m coming from.”

“Well, who’s taller?”

“Me, but only by an inch. Really a half inch or so. But he’s got five pounds on me.”

“You could spend some time bulking up in the gym this summer.”

“So could he.”

“Now you’re just being contrary.” She flashed a fiery glance in my direction.

I chuckled. “I think I like being contrary if that’s all it takes to earn me looks like you’re giving me now.”

Cadence blushed, which only made her hotter to me. All night, she’d looked like some kind of golden sex goddess in that sweater dress, but the addition of the blush brought out something protective in me. I couldn’t decide how I should think of her.

Considering Jonny was her brother, the safer course of action might be to avoid thinking about her at all. I definitely needed to move away from the whole golden sex goddess line of thought, no matter what.

“When you figure it out,” I said, trying to redirect my thoughts to some safe area, “let me know. In the meantime, I’ll be over here playing catch-up so I’m not completely left in Jamie’s dust. Didn’t you ever feel like that with your siblings?”

“Never. We were always close, but as different from each other as possible. Cam was quiet, determined, and completely focused on hockey. Corinne’s the smarty-pants, so no one was surprised when she went into nursing. She tends to keep her thoughts to herself. Chloe was always playing school with her dolls and as many of her dozens of friends as she could gather together. She did a lot of babysitting over the years, as often as she could manage it, and now she’s an elementary school teacher.”

“And you were the life of the party,” I said, since she left herself out.

Cadence shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so. I think Mom got me started skating because I had so much energy to burn. She needed something to help me focus, because I was all over the place, otherwise. Bouncing from one thing to the next in the span of a breath. I might be undiagnosed ADHD or something. With figure skating, I loved how I could have an activity of my own, similar to what Cam was doing, but still different. It was my own thing.”

“Maybe I should have done that—looked for something of my own instead of doing what Jamie was already better at.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. We all followed in Jamie’s footsteps, right down to the seventh Babcock boy. I don’t know if any of us will ever be able to hold a candle to what he’s accomplished, though. Definitely not me.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You’re still playing for one of the best hockey teams in the best professional league in the world, and it’s not like you’re a slouch out there.”

I raised a brow. “You’ve been watching me?”

“I’ve been watching my brother’s team,” she clarified, but I didn’t miss her blush. Maybe she had been paying some attention to me, not only paying attention to her brother’s team.

“Still, Jamie’s the golden boy. He’s the cream of the crop.”

“And what does that make you?”

“Cream of wheat?” I joked.

She pursed her lips in what appeared to be a determined effort not to laugh. “Defensemen take longer to develop. That’s what they always say. Besides, he wasn’t captain of the team and earning a spot on Team Canada the day he got drafted, you know. You’re still coming into your own.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, smiling despite myself, because she was so determined to be a cheerleader for me. I got the sense she was like that with everyone. Always rooting for them. Always finding the brighter side of things. Never allowing herself to get dragged down in the kind of self-defeating negativity I’d been living in for a while. But whether she did it for everyone or not, right now, she was doing it for me.

I could get used to having someone like Cadence Johnson in my corner.

“I got an idea during the show,” she said, dropping her voice down to barely above a conspiratorial whisper, despite the fact that there wasn’t anyone around us to hear. The place was a ghost town at this hour. She took another bite of the pie we were sharing.

“What kind of idea?”

“I want to see if Anthony and I can obtain the rights to use one of the songs from their new album. ‘Sunset Wave.’ It would make for a killer free program. I’m thinking strings. Only an orchestra, no winds or brass or whatever. But maybe it should be something like Trans-Siberian Orchestra, you know? With the full orchestra plus all the electric guitar and drums and stuff? I don’t know. Won’t matter if we can’t get the rights, anyway.”

“Why not use the original The End of All Things version?”

“I still prefer not to skate to anything with lyrics. Used to be a rule that you couldn’t.”

I grinned and forked the bite of pie she’d been going for. “Learn something new every day. So Anthony is the guy you were skating with yesterday? Big blond guy?”

“Yeah. We’re trying each other on for size to see if we’d be a good fit as partners. Connor was practicing feeding him to the alligators today.”

“Practicing?”

“For you.” She winked.

I chuckled. Something told me Jonny had something much worse in mind for me if I fucked up. “So you only stay in Portland if that works out? Or are you staying here regardless, and finding some other partner here?”

“This is going to work out.”

I didn’t point out the fact that she hadn’t answered my question, but I definitely took notice of the change in her eye color. They were darkening again, going back to that near-brown they’d been when I’d first picked her up. I was fishing too much. Time to back off.

How the hell was I ever going to convince her to tell me what I needed to know, though, if every time I got close to finding answers, she closed herself off? This back-and-forth between us was starting to feel like an episode of Tom and Jerry. Every time I thought I had her caught, she slipped out of my grasp.

“So you’re sticking around, then,” I said, brushing off my frustrations. I smiled, hoping to help her relax. “Maybe you’ll let me take you out again?” I left the suggestion hanging as a question.

“Maybe.” Her eyes were still dark. Cautious. She picked up the last bit of pie and chewed thoughtfully. “Levi, I—”

“Don’t tell me no. Not yet. I mean, we’ve had a good time tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And we’re both going to be in Portland. Your brother is one of my teammates. We’ll be seeing each other every now and then, surely.”

“We will, but—”

“But you only came out with me because you felt the need to lie to your brother about something, and not because you actually wanted to be with me,” I finished for her.

She didn’t deny it, which was a step in the right direction. Truth was better than evasiveness and lies. “Putting it that way makes me sound like a jerk.”

So now we were on equal footing. I might not understand what was behind it, but at least she wasn’t trying to lie to me as well as her brother.

“I don’t think you’re a jerk,” I said. More like the exact opposite, whatever that might be.

“Maybe you should.”

“Never gonna happen.”

She chuckled, gracing me with a wry smile. “I won’t hold you to that.”

“So will you let me take you out again?” The question had barely left my lips when she was already shaking her head, preparing to shoot me down, so I kept going. “As friends. Doesn’t have to be anything more than that. We could do something with your family. Take your niece and nephew out or something, like you did today with Anthony. Anything you want.” That was good enough to start, and we could feel our way out of the friend zone later.

“Friends?” she repeated.

I nodded, never taking my eyes from hers, watching for any sign of change.

“I suppose we could try that.”

The color of her eyes remained unwavering, but at least now I had my in.

CADENCE

LEVI BABCOCK MIGHT just prove to be more trouble for me than I’d bargained for. As soon as I’d met him, I’d realized he had the potential to be problematic. I mean, add a dimple to tall, dark, and handsome, and I’d always been a goner. But the better I got to know him, the deeper my problem became.

The guy had an addictive, self-deprecating sense of humor. Yeah, he probably got down on himself a bit too much, but he also didn’t take himself too seriously. He would make a joke at his own expense a heck of a lot sooner than he would do something like that to anyone else.

So maybe Sara was right. Maybe he honestly was a good guy, and someone I could trust myself to be around. If nothing else, the more I got to know him, the less like Guy he turned out to be.

But was he truly different, or was I only trying to make him so in my head, in order to convince myself that starting up some sort of relationship with him—even a friendship—would be all right? I honestly wasn’t sure.

That was the primary reason I scheduled an appointment for next week with the counselor my sports psychologist back in Winnipeg had referred me to, and I did it only a week after I’d arrived in Portland. I’d made a ton of progress with Dr. Trivedi back home, but I was far from being in the clear. I wished I could see this counselor sooner, but at least the appointment was already on the books. It was coming. I simply had to keep myself together long enough to reach it.

I was an emotional wreck, both on the ice and off it, when it came to trusting any man who didn’t share my last name and genetic makeup. Not only that, but I was smart enough to know this was no way to go through my life, constantly on guard with every man I came into contact with. I couldn’t live that way. Not for long. Someday, somewhere along the line, I would have to choose to trust again.

To start, I was choosing to trust Anthony as my partner. Sara liked him. Connor absolutely adored him. I wasn’t sure their judgment was better than mine, but it couldn’t be worse.

Ellen had talked to both Anthony and me separately after we’d spent some time together with Sara and the kids, and we were both on board with moving forward. As far as I was concerned, it was a done deal. Ellen was still moving slowly with it, though. She wanted us to keep skating together several days a week for about a month, on top of acquainting ourselves with each other off the ice, despite the fact that we already knew each other. Well, we were more than acquaintances, at the very least.

The delay left me frustrated. I wanted to move on with this arrangement. I’d made my choice. I wanted to put that decision into action before I could chicken out and let my fears and insecurities creep back in and sever the bit of trust I’d decided to give Anthony.

But he agreed with Ellen.

And neither of them were aware of the whole truth of why I’d left Guy.

Was it fair of me to keep them in the dark?

They knew only what the rest of the world did: Guy had dropped me while we’d been practicing an overhead lift, and I’d been injured badly enough that I’d required several months off; I’d never taken the ice with him again after that; and the personal relationship I’d had with him had ended at the same time as our professional relationship had come to a close. Surely that was enough for them to understand there were some deep-seated trust issues I needed to work through in terms of building any new partnership. Something kept nagging at me, pushing at the back of my mind, telling me I needed to give them more than that, though. But how could I broach it? When was the right time? I wasn’t sure, but I figured it would have to be soon.

Levi wanted more, too.

In the week since that first date, I’d seen him three more times. He hadn’t been pushy in order to convince me to talk. If anything, he was the soul of patience when it came to letting me reveal what I was comfortable with in my own time. But damn if he wasn’t persistent about finding ways to see me.

Following a Storm home game against the Predators, he’d been one of the first guys to reach the owner’s box, where the families watched the game. I’d been talking to Katie Babcock all night, and he’d used that to convince me to go have a late dinner with her, himself, and his brother. We weren’t out as late that night as we had been on our date, but he’d been just as charming as ever. He and Jamie had a special bond, very similar to the one I had with all my siblings. They were comfortable together and could tell jokes at one another’s expense, but their teasing somehow only drew them closer instead of driving them apart.

I couldn’t help but notice that Jamie never once said anything to make his brother feel less than. Maybe Levi felt he wasn’t as good as his brother, but I doubted Jamie would agree. If anything, Jamie spent half the night listing off his brother’s attributes and making sure I was aware of what a good catch he’d be. It was as if he were checking items off a list, lining them out for me so I couldn’t possibly miss them. Had Levi told Jamie that I wasn’t ready to jump in headfirst? Maybe Jamie sensed my apprehension all on his own.

The next day, I’d barely gotten home from a session with Anthony and was still in my grungy, sweaty workout gear when Levi and Cam had come in together. Levi claimed to be bored, and that he thought some time hanging out with the kids would help with that. Even if Connor and Cassidy hadn’t seen through the lie, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Cam, Sara, and I all had. Still, Levi had spent the entire afternoon with us, letting Connor jump all over him and cuss at him like Anthony had done in the ball pit, while Cassidy plucked out his leg hairs one at a time, all without a single word of complaint despite hissing in pain more than a few times. He ended up sticking around long enough that Sara invited him to stay for dinner, ignoring the funny look that Cam gave her and the uneasiness she must have sensed in my eyes. So he’d stayed. And despite myself, I’d been glad.

But today was the real kicker. Tomorrow, the guys were due to leave for a week-long road trip, and today was one of their mandated days off. No practice. No video sessions. No meetings or children’s hospital visits. Nothing they had to do for the team at all. Cam and Sara had taken the kids to a bouncy house so Connor could burn off all his energy and would hopefully nap this afternoon, leaving me with all sorts of time to myself. I adored my brother and his family, but sometimes I needed a break from toddler time. This came as a very welcome reprieve.

Anthony had to work today, and I thought that was the perfect excuse for me to go out on the ice all by myself. I could have spent my time applying for jobs—which, now that I was 99.99% certain I’d be staying here in Portland, I ought to do—or I could have spent the day filling out the dozens of forms I needed to file in order to see if they could expedite my citizenship stuff due to my status as an elite athlete, but all I wanted to do was skate. There was no better way for me to be alone with my thoughts. To try to settle my mind and wash away all the insanity my life had become in the last few weeks.

So that was exactly what I did.

I took my iPod and speakers with me to the ice house. I paid for two hours at the rink Anthony and I had been using so I’d have it all to myself. I was still lacing up my skates when the door opened and I shot my head up, only to see Levi Babcock coming in with his hockey skates draped over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why did they let you in? I’m supposed to have the ice all to myself.”

“That’s what Jonny told me. He texted me after you left. I let Steve up front know you were expecting me.”

“I wasn’t.” I tried hard not to grumble it, but I don’t think I was very successful.

“You weren’t,” he said, slowing his pace. “Why would Jonny tell me that?”

“No idea.” This time, I definitely grumbled.

What had brought on this change in my brother? I didn’t know, and I didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he be a growly papa bear, warning Levi away from me like he’d been at first?

“So does that mean you want me to go?”

I scowled, deep in thought as I debated my options. I’d told him we could be friends, but he was coming around an awful lot for someone who only wanted to be my friend. I honestly shouldn’t encourage him, and letting him stay would definitely do that. Granted, it seemed like everyone in both of our lives was bent on giving the guy hope. Jamie had practically thrown his brother at me that night. And why else would Cam have let him come home with him the other day? He wouldn’t have. Plain and simple. Sara should know better, after what I’d confided in her, but that hadn’t stopped her from giving us a bit of a nudge. And Cam texting Levi to tell him I was here and expecting him? It was as if the whole world were conspiring against me and trying to persuade me to date again before I was ready.

“I guess I should go, then,” Levi said, turning to leave.

“No, stay.” The words were out of my mouth without my full permission. I’d almost settled on telling him to leave. If I changed my mind now, though, I’d look like a crazy girl. And maybe I was. It was hard to know sometimes. “Did you bring the rest of your gear?” Cam almost never hit the ice without at least his stick, and usually a heck of a lot more than that—pads and tape and all sorts of other paraphernalia.

“You mean it?” Levi hitched a hip against the boards, crossed his arms in front of him, and grinned at me—a cocky move if ever I saw one, but on him it came across as sweetly flirtatious. “I thought I should get some work in, even if we don’t have practice today. Bergy’s been kicking my ass lately about needing to improve my stride so I can be on the puck faster. I’m only skating today. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s okay as long as you don’t gripe and moan about the holes in the ice from my toe pick.”

“That’s Koz, not me.”

“That’s every hockey player I’ve ever met who’s had to share the ice with figure skaters.”

“And every figure skater I’ve ever met who’s had to share the ice with hockey players complains about how bad our pads smell, so we’re even.”

“If you say so.” I had to fight off a grin, though. It was true. Hockey pads stunk as bad as Cassidy’s diapers, only in a uniquely foul sort of way.

He winked. “Fair enough. My complaining lips are sealed.”

I finished tying off my laces and got up, stripping off the sweatshirt I’d worn to the rink. I tossed it on the bench and grabbed my iPod and speakers to set on the boards. “My music won’t bother you, will it?”

“Please tell me you’re not playing Bieber.”

“Nah. Michael Bolton,” I said to torment him.

His eyes went wide.

“It’s a mix of stuff. I won’t swear there’s no Justin Bieber, but I can promise a lot of variety. Rock, pop, rap, maybe even some country.”

“You listen to country?” Levi climbed over the boards instead of bothering with the door. Typical hockey player move, and one that only emphasized how long his legs were compared to mine.

“Tell me how I was supposed to grow up in a house with Cam and not be exposed to some Carrie Underwood and Florida Georgia Line.” I hit Play and headed out to the ice—using the door, like a civilized person.

The mix started with “Lose Yourself” by Eminem, and Levi nodded appreciatively.

I raised a brow and took off to skate.

“I learn something new about you every day,” he called after me, heading toward the other end of the ice.

“Only seven thousand four hundred and twenty-seven days to go before I even think about revealing anything you want to know,” I muttered to myself.

CHAPTER FIVE

LEVI

“HEADS UP!” HAMMER’S shout came only a nanosecond before the puck flew straight for both the bench and my head. I was smart enough to duck, but that left Drywall Tierney, our head equipment manager, right in the line of fire. That frozen piece of vulcanized rubber hit him in the jaw, which spurted blood almost immediately.

The trainers rushed him down the tunnel to stitch him up, one of them holding a towel to Drywall’s chin as they scurried away.

Bergy slapped one hand on my shoulder, the other on Hammer’s. “Get out there boys. Let’s keep the pressure on them.”

We were in Denver playing the Avalanche, leading by a single goal in the third. The Avs weren’t the best team in the Western Conference by any stretch of the imagination. At least not this season, although they had some pieces in place for the future. Right this second, those pieces were on the ice, meaning they had some firepower up front that we didn’t want to face. Better to keep the puck in their end and not give their offense the chance to go to work.

Hammer and I headed over the boards, and he tapped his stick on my skates to gain my attention. “I’ll pass it to you. You get the damn thing out of our zone. Clean fucking first pass, and we’ll let the forwards have at it.”

I nodded and took my position for the face-off.

Hammer had been my defensive partner for the last couple of weeks. He was still new to the team, but he definitely wasn’t new to either the game or the league. Our general manager had signed him right before Christmas since we had a lot of injuries on D. He might be getting up there in years compared to a lot of guys in the league, but Hammer was still a steady presence, and the two of us were learning to work well together on the blue line. He was more of a stay-at-home defenseman, playing solidly in our end but rarely showing up on the score sheet. I was penciled in as an offensive-minded, puck-moving defenseman. That was what they kept trying to groom me into being, at least, but so far in the NHL, I hadn’t done so well with that role. Still, I was the better of the two of us when it came to passing the puck to our forwards. We had a plan when we worked together, and we stuck with it.

Koz lined up to take the draw with his two wingers, Nate “Ghost” Golston and Axel “Jo-Jo” Johansson. The puck had barely hit the ice before Koz won it cleanly back to Hammer. He backed up a couple of strides and waited for each of the rest of us to settle in place. Once he had a clear lane, he saucered the puck over to me. His pass hit my stick right on the tape. I was already in motion, heading out of our defensive zone. A Colorado winger tried to poke-check the puck away from me, but I stickhandled my way around him and passed it up to Ghost, who was waiting at the blue line.

Clean entry. We got in the zone and the forwards went to work.

The Avs backchecked like crazy, trying to force the puck out of the zone. No luck. Koz had always been a crazy motherfucker, but he was even more doggedly determined when he had the puck on the stick. Ghost was small but strong as an ox and faster than should be legal. Jo-Jo could play keep-away for what feels like hours. When Bergy had gotten the idea to put those three together on a line a couple of months ago, it was like magic. All three of them started to play up to their potential—except for the fact that they still didn’t score as much as everyone hoped they would. They spent way too much time showing off their various skills and not enough time shooting the fucking puck toward the net.

That was what they started doing now. The game started to feel like a passing clinic. We had the Avs hemmed into their zone and exhausted from chasing those three around, but no shots on net.

Ghost got the puck down near the goal line, but that left him with a crazy angle to shoot from, and he had two big Colorado defensemen bearing down on him. Koz and Jo-Jo were both well covered. For some reason, the remaining Colorado winger was covering Hammer instead of me. Dumbass. I whacked my stick on the ice a couple of times to gain Ghost’s attention. In no time, the puck was screaming my way.

One-timer. Right off the goalie’s pads.

But all three of our forwards crashed the crease, and Ghost managed to tip the rebound high and tight, under the crossbar and in the net.

“Fucking right,” Hammer shouted as he skated over and smacked his gloved hand on my helmet repeatedly. “That’s what you fucking do, kid. That’s why you’re going to earn the big bucks one day.”

BY THE TIME I finished showering and dressing after the game, Ghost had already been called out to do the post-game interview with Anne Dennison. Better him than me. I sucked on camera. Put a hockey stick in my hands, and I was fine. But shove a mic in my face, and all I did was blush and stammer and answer in two-word sentences.

The television and radio crews rarely requested me for interviews because it was next to impossible to get a decent sound bite out of me. Ghost tended to do well with them, though—especially when Anne conducted the interview. The two of them had been flirting with each other like nobody’s business all season, which only led to the guys ragging on him even more than we already did. He was the smallest guy on the team—and practically a fucking midget out on the ice compared to the rest of us—so he always took a lot of heat for anything and everything. His crush on Anne was only the latest fodder he’d let slip.

I busied myself with tossing all my gear in my bag so the equipment guys could haul it out and tried not to pay attention to the pair of them. Ignoring them wasn’t easy, though. The way they’d set everything up here in Denver, Anne was conducting her interview about three stalls away from me.

Ghost dragged a towel down his face and draped it around his shoulders, holding on to the ends of it in a way that caused his biceps to flex. Then he winked at her. Apparently he didn’t care that the cameras were catching his every move, as long as Anne noticed.

She gave him a sly grin, which emphasized her exotic cheekbones. I had no idea what all ethnicities she came from. She looked partly Indian, but there was a lot more in there, leaving her with dramatic features to go alongside her taller-than-the-average-woman stature. Add in some killer heels, and you couldn’t honestly blame the guy for being smitten with her.

“Tell me what you all talked about heading into the third period, only up by a single goal against this dangerous Avalanche offense.” She pushed the mic toward him.

“We just wanted to keep the pressure on them, not get caught thinking we were ahead and didn’t need to do anything more. One-goal games can be a trap, especially when you’re on the road.” Still the pat answer all hockey players tend to give, but Ghost said it with feeling, not to mention with cocky smiles and a bit more muscle flexing than was entirely necessary.

But Anne absolutely ate his response up. “You and your line did exactly that. Nice goal there halfway through the third. You were so strong on the puck with the Avalanche double-teaming you.”

“Gotta give the credit to my line mates and 501 over there,” he said, winking and pointing in my direction. “He’s the one who made the magic happen. Great shot to get some action in front of their net. It was a group effort. Everyone on the ice contributed to that one.”

Anne flashed a smile in my direction, but the amount of time she spared me was very brief. After that, her attention was squarely on Ghost.

Drywall Tierney came up to take my gear from me.

“How’s your chin?” I asked as I hoisted my bag over to him.

He lifted his head to show me. “Seventeen stitches, but at least I’ve still got all my teeth.”

“Better than most anyone else around here can claim. Didn’t fuck up your jaw?”

“It’d take a hell of a lot more than some stray puck to take Drywall out,” Hammer said, coming back from the showers. He stripped off his towel and tossed it in the hamper in the middle of the room, leaving himself naked as the day he was born.

“You don’t care that…” I trailed off, waving my hand toward Anne and Ghost. At least the cameras were facing them and not us, but Anne would get an eyeful if she turned around any time soon.

Hammer glanced over and chuckled. “She’s not paying any attention to me. Not with her lover boy right there making googly eyes at her.” He took his time getting dressed, and Drywall headed off with my bag.

I took a seat on the bench next to him. “So we did all right tonight. You and me, I mean,” I added when he arched a brow at me.

“I’d say we did a hell of a lot better than all right. That was your best fucking game since I’ve been here. By a mile. You were calm with the puck. You made good first passes to clear out of the zone. You got a fucking assist. Give yourself a bit of credit sometimes, 501.”

I shrugged. “I do when credit is warranted.”

“Bullshit. Never met a kid so hard on himself before. Give yourself a damn break every now and then.”

“But it’s only one game.”

“It was a good fucking game. Take ’em one at a time. Build on it.” He sat down next to me to put on his shoes. “Look, you’re going to have bad nights. We all do. The thing is, you can’t focus on them. You can’t let the fuckups outweigh the good nights, or all you’ll end up doing is fucking up even more. You’ve got as much potential as any defenseman I’ve played with in my career, and I’ve played with some of the best. That’s why they drafted you. That’s why you’re here and not in the minors. You just have to start believing in yourself. No big deal. Take chances. You’re bound to fuck up sometimes, but you’ll probably also start to do things you never thought you were capable of.”

HAMMER’S WORDS WERE still ringing in my ears hours later when we got to our hotel in St. Louis. We would have stayed in Denver overnight if not for the fact that we had a back-to-back situation, so it was about two in the morning when we headed up to our rooms.

Koz was my road roommate, but he veered off to the hotel gym before coming up. He spent time in the gym every night in every hotel we stayed at—another thirty-minute workout before bed. For some reason, he claimed the activity helped him sleep better. I wasn’t so sure of the reasoning, considering how much he always tossed and turned all night long, but since it meant I had him out of my hair for the next half hour, I wasn’t going to argue.

Because I wanted to talk to Cadence. I realized that what Hammer said, he’d meant it to be about playing hockey. But he was an older and wiser guy, right? There wasn’t any good reason his words of wisdom couldn’t apply to everything in life.

Take chances. Stick your neck out. Maybe take a risk or two. Yeah, I could strike out. But I might just hit a home run, too.

Not if I didn’t try.

I couldn’t call her now, though. It was after midnight in Portland, so she probably wasn’t awake. I’d figured out she tended to wake up early for some sort of workout—whether it meant going to the gym or hitting the ice—and I didn’t want to disturb that.

But I could send her a text message. She’d likely sleep right through the tone, and then she’d see my message in the morning. I still had to sort out what I wanted to say.

I know we said we’d be friends, but I need you to know I want our relationship to be more than that. If you’re not ready for more now, that’s fine. I completely understand. I do. I’m willing to give you time, but eventually I want this to be more. So if I don’t ever stand a chance with you, I need you to let me know that.

Less than a minute passed from when I pressed Send before my phone was ringing. Cadence.

“Hello?”

“How much time are you willing to give me?” Her voice sounded raspy, kind of husky, like she’d just woken up. Sexy as all hell.

That definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting. And frankly, I didn’t know how to respond. “How much time do you think you need?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“No. Not yet, at least.”

Progress. Baby steps, but it was progress. “Does this have anything to do with your former partner?” I hadn’t ever forgotten the way he’d nearly brought her to tears right after they’d won the gold medal.

Her answer was silence, which was as good as a yes in my book. Maybe she didn’t want to tell me, but she was, a piece at a time.

“Okay,” I said. “So does this mean I at least have a chance?”

“You have a chance. I don’t know how much of a chance, but it’s something.”

“I can work with something.”

“After you guys get back, are you doing anything on that Saturday?”

My jaw nearly hit my chest, because she was suggesting doing something with me. “No plans other than practice.”

“Anthony’s fiancé has the night off. He wants to get together and do something. He said I should bring someone with me, and if it’s not you, it’ll likely be Connor.”

“Do Anthony and his fiancé mind being around cussing toddlers?”

“I’m not sure.” She laughed.

“Well, I suppose it had better be me, then. Just in case.”

“Is a cussing hockey player better than a cussing toddler?”

Since it meant I would have a chance to spend time with Cadence? “Yes. Absolutely.”

“I guess I’ll see you then. I’ll text you once I know a time and place.”

CADENCE

THINK OF IT as courting, I reminded myself for at least the thirty-eighth time in the last hour. That was what my new counselor, Wendy, had suggested when we’d talked through my trepidations. This wasn’t a date. Levi and I weren’t going to be alone together. We would have Anthony and Jesse with us the whole time, to act as my safety net, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that Anthony would let me out of his sight the whole day. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized he was made of the same cloth as Cam, in terms of their overly protective instincts.

When Wendy had first brought up the idea of courting, I’d almost balked. I mean, courting was such an outdated idea, right? Only the more she explained the general concept, the more it made sense. When a couple is courting, they’re never alone together. They can get to know one another first using friends and family as a buffer before jumping into the modern world’s idea of dating, which often ended up moving way too fast for what I was ready for right now.

Better yet, Levi didn’t necessarily have to know he was courting me. He’d agreed to give me time, and in the interim we’d be friends. We could do things that friends do, without him ever needing to come to terms with what we were doing in that way. Calling it courting was more to help me cope and not freak out about dating again.

The doorbell rang. My blood pressure shot through the roof with nerves despite all my efforts at calming myself down. I headed downstairs to answer it, but Connor beat me to it.

“Who’re you?” he demanded, the way only a four-year-old can do.

“I’m Anthony. Don’t you remember me?”

“I ’member agilators eating you. Who’s he?” Connor demanded, pointing.

“This is my friend, Jesse.”

“Mommy says I’m not asposed to talk to strangers. Maybe agilators should eat him, too.”

“Mommy also says you’re not supposed to answer the door,” I said, coming around the corner. “But lucky for you, these guys are my friends and not some men who are here to steal naughty little boys.”

Connor gave me a devilish smile. “You won’t tell, will you, CayCay?”

Jesse lit up like a Christmas tree. “CayCay? Oh my gorgonzola, that is almost as adorable as you are, Cadence. Please tell me we can call you that from now on.” He had all the hand waving and lisping speech often associated with the stereotypical gay man, which was Anthony’s exact opposite. I wanted to pinch Jesse’s cheeks every time I saw him.

I wasn’t so sure about anyone calling me CayCay other than my nephew, though. Once Cassidy started talking, she could, too, if she wanted. But that was where I drew the line. I was about to tell Jesse as much, but Levi pulled into the driveway, rescuing me from having to say anything. If I was lucky, maybe Jesse would forget all about that nickname soon, and it wouldn’t ever become an issue. At any rate, I grabbed my coat and purse, sent Connor back to the playroom, where he was supposed to be, and headed out for my day with the guys.

Anthony had an SUV, so we all loaded in and left Levi’s car at Cam and Sara’s house.

Levi climbed into the back with me. “So what exactly are we doing today?” he asked, settling his seat belt into place over his lap.

“ChocolateFest,” Jesse answered. “As much wine and chocolate as you can handle, all day long. But please don’t get sick, because that isn’t cute.”

“Something tells me we might run into Laura Weber,” Levi said quietly to me.

“Katie’s mom?”

“If anything involves wine… And then you’re adding chocolate to the mix? Hell, half the guys’ wives are probably going to be there.”

It wasn’t far to the Oregon Convention Center. As we headed inside, Levi walked alongside me, so close his hand brushed against mine. That slight contact sent tingles of awareness skittering up my spine. They took root in my hair, making me feel like it might be standing on end. Well, it might give me a bit more volume, right? Had to find the bright side, or else I’d find myself caught up in hormones going bonkers. Now wasn’t the time for that.

Come to think of it, maybe wine wasn’t the best plan for today, either. I’d have to keep an eye on how much I drank.

The convention center was filled with rows upon rows of booths, each boasting their own specialty chocolates along with wines to pair with them. The booths went on as far as the eye could see in the main room, and the guides told us there were a few other halls with more to explore.

“Where do you want to start?” Levi asked.

“Dark chocolate.” My answer came with no hesitation.

“By itself? Or do you want truffles with other flavors?”

“They’ve even got chocolate-covered bacon,” Jesse said, practically hyperventilating up ahead of us by a few steps. “Honey, I’m going to drool over this.”

“No need to drool. We’ll buy you some chocolate-covered bacon,” Anthony replied.

“What about you?” Levi asked. By some unspoken agreement, the two of us held back a bit, allowing the others to go on without us. “Do you want chocolate-covered bacon?”

I wrinkled my nose in response.

He laughed. “Because we could get you some. Might be good to try it at least once. Expand your horizons or something.”

“That’s a horizon I don’t need expanded, thanks.”

“So in general, you’re not much of a risk taker, then?”

“I never said that. I just don’t think I need to risk having a heart attack and getting diabetes all in one fell swoop.”

“Fair enough.” His hand kept brushing against mine, and then he curled his pinky finger around to lock with my pinky—not holding hands, exactly, but close.

Painfully close.

Heart-leaping-to-my-throat close.

Too close? I couldn’t decide. I kind of liked it, but wasn’t I supposed to be keeping some physical distance between us while I decided whether or not I could trust him? That was one of the aspects of courting that I’d latched on to when Wendy had suggested it.

The truth was, I liked the bit of contact too much to want to let go.

“So you never told me that Anthony’s fiancé was a man,” Levi said after a bit of wandering aimlessly through the crowd.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Not really. It only means I don’t have to dream about throat punching Anthony every time I see him grabbing your ass anymore.”

This time, I laughed out loud. “He has to touch my butt if he’s going to hold me in some of the lifts we do, you know.”

“I know. And it makes me all kinds of jealous.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. I bit the inside of my lower lip.

Levi strolled up to one counter where they had dozens of handcrafted specialty chocolates. He scanned the case for a moment. He turned to me, grinning. “Do you trust me?”

I wasn’t so sure I was ready to go that far in general, but I supposed there wasn’t any real harm in trusting him to make this decision. “Sure,” I said. “You pick.”

When he’d found the ones he wanted, he flagged down a worker. “Two of those,” he said. “And do you have any coffee instead of wine?”

“Espresso would go well with them.”

“Perfect. Two espressos, too.” He dug out his wallet and selected a few bills to pay.

“Coffee’s an interesting choice, when it’s all about chocolate and wine,” I noted.

“Figured we should pace ourselves. There’s a lot of wine to be had, but no reason we need to plow through it all at the beginning. We won’t even be able to taste the chocolate after a while if we have too much wine.”

The worker handed over our selections and Levi’s change, and we carried them to an area with tables and chairs. He held out a chair for me and helped ease me into it. I glanced around and found Anthony and Jesse a few aisles over but still within my line of sight. Good thing they were both tall. Their heads bobbed above the sea of other people crowding the area.

“So you trust me enough to pick out your chocolate, but not enough to be alone with me,” Levi said as he took his seat across from me.

There wasn’t any point in denying it. I hadn’t exactly hidden the fact that I was looking for the other guys, and it didn’t take much to figure out the motive behind it. “Something like that,” I said sheepishly. “Although, if this chocolate is bad, I reserve the right to change my mind about trusting you for future chocolate decisions.”

He smiled. “Duly noted.”

“That doesn’t upset you? That I’m not comfortable being alone with you yet?”

“Why should it upset me?”

I shrugged. The idea of having to share our time with anyone else would have driven Guy bonkers. He had always expected me to go along with whatever he decided, no questions asked. According to him, he was older and wiser—not to mention, a man, although he never used that one to my face—and therefore knew better what I needed. Somehow that had also filtered down to him supposedly knowing what I wanted. I didn’t have the opportunity to make many decisions, in all my years as his partner. Even fewer once we’d been a couple off the ice.

Now that I thought about it, maybe I shouldn’t have let Levi dictate what chocolates he was buying for me. It’s possible I should have told him what I wanted.

I didn’t get the sense that he was trying to rule my life, but did I need to assert myself early on, so he wouldn’t think I was going to let him steamroll over me all the time? I wasn’t sure. One more thing I needed to talk to Wendy about the next time I had a session with her, I supposed.

Levi leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet at the ankles. The chairs and tables weren’t designed for someone of his size. He seemed cramped in them, almost like they were meant for children. He took his chocolate out of the wrapper. “You gonna try yours?”

“Thought I’d wait to be sure it doesn’t kill you first,” I joked.

“I see. I’m the royal food tester.” He winked at me before biting off half the chocolate. Then he groaned in pleasure.

Once he swallowed, I unwrapped my own chocolate. “Since you haven’t keeled over yet…” The second the chocolate hit my tongue, there was an explosion of flavor. Salt, creamy caramel, and rich dark chocolate. “Oh my God,” I said, my mouth still full. I didn’t care about manners just now, though. It was too good.

He gave me a wry smile. “So I did okay, then?”

“Okay?” I licked my lips, noticing how his eyes followed the path of my tongue. “You scored bonus points with this one.”

“So maybe I move up a step or two in the process?”

I sipped from my espresso, buying time. “Process?”

“The one where you decide whether you can trust me or not. Where you decide how much to let me in and how soon.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. He was so persistent, but without being pushy. I wasn’t sure what to do with him, but there was no denying I wanted to be around him. “A step or two… Yeah, sure.”

“Any chance you can tell me how many steps there are and which one I’m on?”

I finished off my chocolate, taking my time savoring the flavor as I debated how to answer him. “To be completely honest, I don’t know how many steps you’re going to have to take. A lot.”

“So basically I’m on step three of twenty, or something like that?”

“More like step three of two hundred.”

But two hundred was a lot less than the seven thousand four hundred and twenty-seven I’d estimated before. Something else I needed to chew on for a while.

CHAPTER SIX

LEVI

IN OUR LAST game against the Coyotes, their goaltender had shut us out. At home, no less, which only made the loss sting worse than if we’d been on the road. We were already at the end of January, and not once all season had we lost two games in a row. In today’s NHL, that didn’t happen. But now, it was looking like we were about to drop two in a row for the first time all season long.

Needless to say, that thought didn’t sit well with anyone on the bench. We’d come so close to capturing the biggest prize in the sport, the Stanley Cup, at the end of last season, but we’d fallen just short. And why was that? Because, once we’d gotten to the Finals, we’d lost twice in a row. And then it had happened again. And then our season had been over. Done. Kaput.

All season long, Bergy and the rest of the coaching staff had been drilling into us the importance of not letting any sort of a losing streak take hold like that. Not during the season. Definitely not once we got to the playoffs, but we had to treat the whole season like it was the playoffs. That was how it worked when you were in the thick of things in the Western Conference. There was no room for complacency. Only for excellence, for pushing yourself to the very brink of your limits and then finding some way to push further, harder, faster, stronger.

It didn’t help that our defense was currently being held together with duct tape and silly putty. In a normal season, I was a third-pairing defenseman at best. We were all playing over our heads right now due to injuries to our top guys.

Andrew Jensen was out indefinitely with a concussion.

Keith Burns had been playing through a hairline fracture in his foot, but once Cole Paxton had returned from his emergency appendectomy, Burnzie had blocked another shot with the exact same spot on his foot. Now he was out for at least the next six weeks, possibly longer. We might be lucky to have him back in time for the playoffs.

Dominic “Bear” Medved, who had been my partner before all these injuries, had been dealing with groin issues all season that kept pulling him out of the lineup.

That was why Jim Sutter had brought in Hammer a few weeks ago. Better to have a guy with some experience than to call up some kid from the AHL who wasn’t ready for the kind of pressure we were under. So now, we had a makeshift defensive corps.

Cody “Harry” Williams was up on the top pairing with Colesy. They’d both at least been in the league for quite a while, but neither was truly a number one guy. Or at least they hadn’t been before. Harry had been surprising everyone with how well he was adapting to his new role, though.

I was with Hammer in the middle, definitely a step above where either of us had spent much time before in our careers.

Bear—as long as he was healthy—was with Ilya Demidov. Demi usually floated in and out of the lineup, filling holes when needed; now he was an every night player.

When Bear had to sit out for a game or two because of his groin, Jim was forced to call up someone from our AHL affiliate, the Seattle Storm. Several of those kids had potential, but none of them were ready for the NHL. If they were, they’d already be playing up with us.

So far, as a ragtag group, we were holding our own. But if one more of us went down with an injury or did something stupid to earn a suspension, we were royally fucked.

All of that was running through my head when, down three goals to one against the Sharks heading into the second intermission, Bear came off the ice limping. Harry and I each draped one of Bear’s arms over our shoulders and practically carried him back to the locker room, where the trainers took over. It didn’t look good as they herded him back into the training room and called for Doc to join them. The way he was wincing and grimacing with everything they did—not a chance in hell he was coming back on the ice tonight. That meant we were down to five D for the rest of the game.

After a few minutes, Bergy and Adam “Handy” Hancock, the assistant coach who handled the defense, came out of the trainers’ room and made their way over to the corner of the locker room where the five of us were huddled together.

“Doc says it doesn’t look good for him to come back tonight,” Bergy said unnecessarily. “We’re going to stick with the current pairs. Demi will rotate in to spell the rest of you sometimes. I think we’ll go to a four-forward, one-D set for power plays to give you guys a breather where we can, plus it’ll give us a bit more firepower to score a couple of goals.”

That meant for the rest of the game, Hammer and I would be out on the ice essentially every other shift, unless somehow the refs decided to give us a hell of a lot more power plays in this game. Not likely. They’d only handed out one between both teams in the first two periods combined.

I reached for a bottle of water behind me in my stall, and I chugged. I knew I’d need it.

“Let’s do this, boys,” Hammer said once the coaches left us. “Just stay calm out there. Do what you know you can do. Keep it simple. Nothing fancy—the Sharks forwards will pounce on a bad pass in a heartbeat, and Nicky’s already got enough rubber coming his way without us fucking him over like that.”

Throughout the room, there were small groups like ours, with someone giving a quiet pep talk like Hammer was giving. It had to do with the way my brother led this team. He wasn’t much of a talker, more of a doer. He led the team by example, doing everything the right way and expecting everyone around him would follow his lead. The other leaders in the room had picked up on Jamie’s style. There wasn’t any need with this team for big speeches or yelling. We got shit done.

Tonight, we weren’t getting shit done, though. Which was why there were currently so many of our leaders around the room, calmly talking to the guys around them—Hammer bringing all the defensemen together, Jamie talking to a few of the high-end forwards, Jonny gathering his line mates in.

Hell, even Brenden “Soupy” Campbell had come down from the press box to sit with a few of the forwards who went out on the penalty kill. Soupy was on the injured reserve again, out for a few weeks with a hip injury, but the guy was as much a part of this team as ever. He might as well be a coach with those guys, the way they listened to him. I figured he held so much sway with them because he’d had to fight tooth and nail for everything he’d earned in this league. He was a warrior, never giving in, even when his body was fighting against him.

Bergy only said a few words before we headed back out for the third—reminding us that we needed to dictate the tone of the game. Play our way. Skate fast. Fight hard. Clean, crisp passes. Keep the pressure on them, and we could come out on top, because we were as good as any team in this league.

It seemed to be working. Shift after shift, our forwards were cycling the puck in the Sharks’ zone, peppering the goalie with shots. The D all focused on keeping an eye on good defensive positioning and not overstaying our shifts. As short as we were on defense, the last thing any of us needed to do was get caught out there too long.

Four minutes in, I deflected Sharks forward Pavelski’s shot away from the net, then corralled and settled the puck. Glanced up ice. Jamie was already streaking through the neutral zone, so I lobbed the puck up and over everyone’s heads to land right at his feet. He stickhandled it, all alone even though the Sharks’ D were racing after him. Two dekes and a backhand shot later, the puck soared over the Sharks’ goalie’s glove hand and in the net.

“Hell of a fucking pass,” Jamie shouted in my ear when I caught up to him, slapping my helmet.

He was the one who’d made the play happen, though. Not me.

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was we were now within a single goal. One good shot was all we’d need, as long as no one did anything stupid. Now to tie it up.

The next several minutes turned into a track meet between the two sides, racing up and down the ice from one end to the other, with countless flurries of activity in front of the goaltenders, but they both kept the scoreboard the same.

I was huffing for air on the bench after one of those crazy shifts when Koz and Ghost broke out with the puck and none of San Jose’s players within range to cut them off—especially when you considered Ghost’s wheels. The guy could fly out there.

Koz waited until the goalie committed and pulled himself out of position. Clean pass over to Ghost, who tapped it in over the goalie’s sprawling attempt to remedy the situation.

Tie game. Seven minutes left, and we had all the momentum.

The track meet didn’t end there, despite Bergy’s attempts to calm us all down on the bench. “We play fast but within control. Take your time out there, boys. Slow down and assess the situation.”

Shots kept pelting the goaltenders. Someone would grab the puck and shoot it up ice to a streaking teammate. The race was on again. Turnover after turnover in the neutral zone.

It was utter chaos out there, and I was so winded I didn’t know how to slow the game down.

Four minutes left. Still tied.

I chugged an entire Gatorade as soon as I came over the boards to prepare for my next shift.

The Sharks crashed in on Nicky, with Colesy trying to break up the play. He and two Sharks forwards collided, full speed, at the boards. Colesy came up and immediately raced to the bench holding his arm funny. A trail of blood followed behind him.

“Skate blade,” he said. No further explanation required. The trainers rushed him back to the locker room to perform whatever repairs he needed…if they could even do that here. I wasn’t so sure. That was a hell of a lot of blood coming out of him in a very short period of time. He might need surgery or something.

Play was halted so they could clean the blood off the ice. We were down to four D.

Bergy was busy with the forwards, trying to reiterate the fact that they needed to slow everything down and let the game come to them, reminding them that there were only four of us on defense now, so they needed to help us out as much as possible. While he was doing that, Handy sat down with the four remaining defensemen.

“I want Harry with 501, Hammer with Demi.” He slapped us each on the shoulder, and that was that. We had a plan. We could do this.

Harry and I went out first, ready to set the tone for how the remaining few minutes of this game needed to be played.

Our top center, Riley Jezek, won the face-off straight back to me. I skated backward a couple of paces, waiting for the rest of the guys on the ice to get into position. RJ and Jamie were both well covered, but Aaron Ludwiczak had gotten free from his guy, so I saucered the puck up to him. Those three cycled a bit, and RJ got off a couple of nice shots at the net, but nothing went in. Each time, one of our forwards managed to dig the puck free and maintain possession. But the Sharks were circling. Each second that ticked off the clock, one of them got closer to poke checking the puck free.

Pavelski almost managed it, but I pinched in along the boards to pass the puck back to Jamie while Harry shifted over to cover my point and RJ cycled back to fill in Harry’s point.

Or at least that was how it was supposed to work.

Communication breakdown.

Pavelski zipped past me, puck on his stick, and Harry had realized what I was doing too late. We were off to the races again, and I was gassed.

I dived for the puck.

Got my stick tangled up in Pavelski’s skates, instead.

The ref’s arm went up, and he signaled for a penalty shot.

Pavelski went out to center ice all by himself. Picked up the puck on his stick. Deked once. Twice. Roofed it, stick side, beating Nicky.

And once again, it was my fault. It was the first shift Harry and I had been out there together. He hadn’t anticipated what I would do; I hadn’t told him. That was on me, especially since I’d missed poking the puck away from the other guy.

We skated back to the bench, me mentally berating myself the whole way.

Hammer came over the boards and slapped his stick on my ankles. “Hey. Look at me.”

I shot my head up.

“You took a chance. It didn’t work out. Big fucking deal. Take another chance anyway.”

THEY’D SCORED ANOTHER goal in our empty net in the dying moments of the game, so we lost five to three. Two losses in a row. It fucking sucked, but I was determined to not only listen to Hammer’s words but to believe them. I couldn’t let this sink into my head any more than we, as a team, could afford to let this losing trend become a streak.

I was about to head out and go home when Jonny locked an arm around my neck like he was going to give me a noogie and dragged me toward the concourse.

“What the fuck did I do to deserve that?” I demanded once I got free from his grasp. I couldn’t think of anything I might have done or said to Cadence to have him ready to kill me, but that was exactly what I’d thought was going to happen once I realized who had hold of me.

He gave me a look that said I was the biggest fucking idiot in the world. “Are you trying to start a relationship with Cadence, or what? Because it sure as hell seems like you are. And I can promise you, she thinks you are. So are you?”

Seemed like a trick question. “Yes?”

“Then get your fucking ass up to the owner’s box and talk to her before you go home.” He took off ahead of me, his long legs not showing any of the exhaustion I felt after tonight’s game. “Fucking dumb ass,” I heard him say under his breath. He stopped halfway down the hall and spun around to face me. “I swear to God, 501, I hate every second of this. But I refuse to hold your fucking hand through it. You’re not a toddler. Figure it out. And if you fuck this up, if you hurt her, I will rip every digit from your hands and feet, along with a few other choice appendages, and let my son feed you to the alligators like he wants to do.” Then he stormed off again.

So now Jonny was encouraging me in regard to his sister, not trying to murder me for even breathing in her vicinity? I’d assumed there had been some sort of miscommunication when Jonny had texted me about meeting Cadence at the rink that day, but now I wasn’t so sure. I was starting to think there must be something in the Johnson family’s genes to make them impossible to figure out.

Sara might have had something to do with it. That was the only thing that made sense, as far as I could tell. Different gene pool. She didn’t confuse me. Sara was as direct as they came.

I followed Jonny’s retreating form up to the owner’s box again. This time, Cadence was hanging out with both Katie and her younger sister, Dani Weber, but as soon as I came through the door, she turned to me and flashed a gorgeous smile in my direction. Harry was up here, grinning and winking at Dani from across the room. She gave him a coy expression in return. I shook my head, trying to clear away the fog that came from Harry and Dani Weber flirting with each other, and headed toward those girls.

I didn’t make it far, though.

“Levi!” Sophie Calhoun, Bergy’s youngest stepdaughter, leaped up from her seat and gave me the biggest, tightest bear hug ever. That was par for the course when it came to Sophie. She was a twelve-year-old with Down syndrome. And she had a massive crush on me. The first time I met her, she’d raced through the concourse and hugged me, exactly like this, and immediately asked me to marry her. She ran at me so hard that time, I’d had to brace myself to prevent being tackled to the ground. That was a little over a year ago.

Her older sisters had crushes on me, too, so I was always careful around those girls. Not that I thought either Bergy or their mother would let them pull a fast one on me, but I couldn’t be too careful. The Babcock boys—we were all fully aware of the effects our dimples had on young girls. I was always on my guard once the giggles started.

Sophie was different, though. She was sweet as could be, and not a danger to me in the least.

It was a Friday night. No school tomorrow. That was the only reason Paige would have brought her girls to the game. I should’ve thought of that before. I would have been up here in a heartbeat to see Sophie if I’d realized they were here.

Since I knew it would earn me one of her infectious laughs, I picked her up and spun her around a few times. She cackled with glee. For a few moments, the rest of the room disappeared. That was the power this little girl had over me.

When I set her on her feet again, I planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Hey, Sophie Bug. I’ve missed you.”

“That was a nice pass, Levi.” She had a death grip on my hand, but she was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m gonna be just like you.”

“It’s so like you to ignore all the times I messed up out there.”

“You never mess up. You’re the best.”

As far as she was concerned, no one would ever be better at anything than me. If only I could see the world through her eyes someday. She never failed to give me a boost of confidence, though, and Lord knew I needed it tonight.

“Have you met my friend Cadence?” I asked her. This part might be tricky, especially since I hoped Cadence would someday become a hell of a lot more than just my friend. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was stomp on Sophie’s tender feelings. But if I introduced Sophie to the idea that Cadence was a friend, first, she could potentially come to accept it when the relationship progressed further. That was my hope, at least.

Sophie shook her head.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you.” I kept a tight grip on her hand and led her to where Cadence, Katie, and Dani were huddled together. “Cadence, I want you to meet a special friend of mine. This is Sophie Calhoun.”

Cadence’s grin hadn’t dimmed in the least. She held out a hand for Sophie to shake. Sophie had never been one for formality, though. Instead, she released her grip on me and wrapped both arms around Cadence in the same kind of bear hug she’d given me.

“I love you, Cadence,” Sophie said.

Cadence raised a brow in my direction, but she took it in stride. “Well, I guess I love you, too.”

“I know.” Simple acceptance of the fact that she was loved—exactly what I would expect from Sophie. After a minute, she let go of Cadence and took a step back toward me. She grabbed hold of my hand and held on tight. “I’m gonna marry Levi.”

I winked. “Unless someone steals her away from me before she’s old enough. But Sophie, is it all right if Cadence and I are friends?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I love her, too.”

“I know you do. You love everybody.”

Sophie grinned again. “You can have girlfriends. But I’m your best girlfriend.”

“You know it, Sophie Bug.” I pinched her nose and got another giggle.

“Bergy said I can try to skate tomorrow without my sled.”

The coaches and equipment guys had rigged up a walker specifically for her last year. It had skis on the bottom, and they strapped her into the contraption to help her keep her balance while she built her core strength.

“You skate?” Cadence asked, perking up. “So do I.”

“Are you a hockey player, too, like Levi? I’m gonna play hockey.”

“Nope. I’m a figure skater.”

“She’s not just any figure skater,” I said. “She won a gold medal.”

“Wow.” Sophie’s jaw dropped to her chest. “A real gold medal?”

“In the Winter Games. Same as where Babs got his.” She knew most of the guys by their nicknames, not their real names, so I was careful to use them with her. She called me by my given name, but I was the only one.

“But his is for hockey,” Sophie said.

“They have lots of sports you can compete in,” Cadence said.

“You wanna come skating with me tomorrow?” Sophie asked her. “You can come with Levi.”

“Yeah?” Cadence raised a brow in Sophie’s direction. “You’re sure that’d be all right with you?”

“It’s okay. But don’t help me skate. I wanna do it all by myself.”

“Got it.” Cadence winked at me. “I’ll find out when and where, and I’ll be there.”

I supposed that meant I was going skating tomorrow, too.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CADENCE

SOPHIE CALHOUN HAD to be about the most adorable thing in the history of ever, but I was quickly learning that her status on that list was followed close behind by how sweetly Levi treated her. I’d gotten a sense of their relationship last night, but hanging out with the two of them at the rink today had proven to be as illuminating about the man he truly was, deep down, as anything.

It wasn’t only one thing; it was everything. He hugged her as fiercely as she hugged him. He always held her hand if she wanted him to, but he never tried to force his help on her, giving her the freedom to try things on her own. He gave her his full attention any time she demanded it, and he never once looked like he begrudged her for stealing his focus. Even though he probably had dozens of things he could be doing—things that most twenty-four-year-old millionaires would far rather spend their time on—he stayed out on the ice with Sophie as long as she wanted, and he never voiced a word of complaint.

Clearly, Sophie had stolen his heart.

And now that I was watching him with her, he was stealing a piece of mine.

“Do another jump!” Sophie called out to me. She was shuffling along next to Levi, but she wasn’t holding on to him for support this time. “A big one.”

It hadn’t taken me long at all to figure out Sophie valued height and air time far more than the number of revolutions I made in the air. Sometime, I’d have to bring her along when Anthony and I practiced, so she could see the throws and lifts. She’d probably eat those right up.

I gathered some speed and did a single lutz, soaring through the air for a moment before landing on one foot, to Sophie’s applause. Then I skated over and joined them, coming up on Sophie’s free side so Levi and I were surrounding her.

“You liked that?”

“Yep. Now Levi do it.”

He laughed. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” she said adamantly. “You’re the best skater I know.”

“I’m a good skater when it comes to hockey,” he said. “But Cadence can skate circles around me with this stuff.”

“You can teach us, can’t you, Cadence?” Sophie wobbled, but she put her arms out for balance and steadied herself without either of us reaching in to rescue her.

“Well…” For a moment, I debated giving her excuses as to why I wouldn’t be able to teach her, but the thought behind my indecision was a bunch of crap. Clearly, this girl could do a lot of things. Who was I to tell her otherwise?

Levi raised a brow expectantly at me.

“You, I bet I can teach,” I said to Sophie. “I’m not so sure Levi can learn, though. Besides, he’s not even wearing the right kind of skates.”

“We got on our hockey skates,” Sophie said, looking down at her feet quizzically.

“Yeah. To jump like I did, you need figure skates. They’ve got a toe pick.” I came to a stop and showed her the one on my right foot. “Hockey skates don’t have them.”

She took a moment to compare the end of her blade to the end of mine. “Why do you got a toe pick?”

“It helps you get a grip in the ice so you can jump high.”

“No jumping in hockey.”

“Nope,” Levi said. “No jumping.”

She nodded thoughtfully. Then she turned toward the other side of the rink and started skating that way. We went with her, with the wordless acknowledgment that we should be close by in case she struggled. “Bergy?” she called out. “I need figure skates! Levi needs some, too.”

Bergy’s laugh rang out in the arena as we got close to the boards. “We’ll see what we can do. Is Cadence going to teach you?”

“Yeah. She’s teaching us.”

“I’ll have to work out some lesson times with her and see what she charges then,” he said. He caught my eye. “Assuming you actually did agree to give Sophie some lessons?”

Lessons hadn’t exactly been in my plans. But then again, I still hadn’t found a job, and I’d have to start working at some point. The money from my endorsement deals was running low.

I wasn’t about to ask Mom for anything more. She’d sacrificed so much for me over the years, paying for ice time and lessons and costumes when the money wasn’t there. Then Cam had gotten into the NHL, and probably half the money he earned had gone to helping me. At least it had always felt that way to me.

Even now, Cam and Sara had been letting me stay with them while I sorted everything out. I couldn’t keep relying on my family forever, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let Anthony foot the bill for all of our expenses. We were a partnership. That meant we both had to contribute, and not just on the ice.

Yeah, I had sponsorship deals, so there would be more money coming in eventually. I wasn’t completely broke. But I needed a job with a steady paycheck so I could pay my own way. Besides, teaching figure skating might not be a horrible idea, especially if I could work with some kids like Sophie. If our lessons went well, there was no telling what else it might lead to.

“I think this sounds like a great plan,” I said. “We can definitely work something out.”

I sat and finalized some details with Bergy while Levi helped Sophie remove all her gear and bundle up to head home. Within ten minutes, I had my first steady client lined up, and some weight lifted off my shoulders. Not bad, for an afternoon of skating.

Once she was ready to go, she came over and gave me another big hug, squeezing my ribs almost to the point of bruising.

I squeezed her back. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Cadence.”

“Love you, too.” It was easy to love Sophie. To open up and let her worm her way into my heart. I only wished letting someone else in was so easy.

Someone like Levi.

Whether I wanted him in my heart or not, he was finding a way to get there. But while letting Sophie in felt like the warm summer sun hitting my face, letting Levi in felt like pieces of me were breaking off. Shattering. Splitting in half. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if the pieces he was ripping open at the seams were really meant to stay where I’d put them or not. Maybe it was for the best, even if it hurt. How could something good cause so much pain? But then again, it was easiest to rip the Band-Aid straight off, right? That was the old wisdom.

As usual, when it came to this budding courtship between us, I ended up with more questions than answers.

“That was nice of you,” Levi said as we watched Sophie bound out of the rink with Bergy following behind her, carrying her gear.

I took a seat next to him and started unlacing my skates. “It wasn’t nice. It was the least I could do for your best girlfriend.” I glanced up to see how he’d reacted to my teasing.

The skin around his eyes crinkled with a silent laugh. “Was that for her, or for me?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head, somewhat surprised to realize that it was absolutely the truth. I wasn’t sure who I’d done it for. “Maybe for both of you.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to pretend you did it for me. All for me.” He cocked me a grin and winked.

I laughed. “Tell yourself whatever you want.”

“I’m trying to let her down easy. The last thing I want to do is break that little girl’s heart, you know?”

“Let her down easy?” I said, and something squeezed around my lungs. No, not my lungs—my heart. It was my heart that stopped working, which made it impossible to breathe. “Because of me?”

He shrugged. “I’m still waiting. Hoping.”

If I wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer.

“Any chance you’re going to be ready to let me kiss you sometime soon?” he asked.

And even though a piece of my heart was desperate to say yes, I nibbled on the inside of my lower lip and shook my head. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound too insanely frustrated, at least. But when I met his eyes, I could tell he saw more in mine than I’d hoped for. He could see I was wavering. That he was wearing me down with patience and persistence and charm, not to mention his kindness when it came to Sophie.

That realization would only give him more hope. And there was some small part of me that refused to believe it was bad to let him have hope.

In fact, I was starting to hope, too.

WITH ALL THE gentleness in the world, Anthony lowered me to my skates and put his hand on my waist, drawing me back into position following the star lift we’d just done—the first time we’d done one flawlessly together. Everything about the trick had felt right.

“Yes!” Ellen called out from the boards, cheering us on. “That’s exactly what I want. Now do it again, and don’t either of you change a thing.”

Anthony squeezed my hand gently, and as one we inhaled and took off with our left foot. Everything we’d done in the last week had been to improve our synchronicity, learning to breathe in time with each other, to match our strides, to anticipate the other’s actions two beats before they would happen. All our hard work was paying off. It was crazy to think that less than a month had passed since our first skate together.

It was all starting to come together. We had officially agreed to a partnership now, which meant I needed to start moving on the massive amounts of paperwork I needed to file. It wasn’t unheard of for a government to push through citizenship for an athlete who could compete at my level, especially considering I’d already won gold once, because of the prestige of international competition. Anthony and I would definitely have to sit out this season, but we could potentially be ready to compete next year. That would give us two full years leading up to the next Winter Games. But none of this would happen if I didn’t file all the appropriate forms and convince the U.S. President to push things through. That was next on my to-do list.

After three strides, Anthony’s hands were at my waist, and in no time I was soaring high in the air above him, my arms and legs locked into position, my abs tight to keep me balanced. At exactly the same moment, we shifted my position in the air, easily finding a new center point. Three seconds until the dismount. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand. He changed his grip and brought me back to earth. My skate blades met the ice in a feather-light caress, not like the way Guy would sometimes plunk me down following a lift. Guy had never been overly careful with me. He’d expected me to look out for myself. Working with Anthony was a nice change of pace.

“All right,” Ellen said, her enthusiasm bringing her face to life and erasing the lines around her mouth and eyes. “Do that three more times, perfectly in sync with each other, and then we can call it a day.”

She had another pair of students—much younger than us, only in their early teens—coming in for their session, so she turned her attention to them, trusting us to do as she’d instructed. Anthony and I continued on our own. Once we finished and he set me down on the ice, there was a long, loud, slow clap coming from the opposite side of the ice from Ellen.

“Bravo,” Guy said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue and turning my blood to ice. I didn’t even have to turn around to realize it was him. His voice still echoed in my head, even though I hadn’t seen him for months. Berating me. Threatening me. Begging me to forgive him, only to start in on me all over again the next day.

Anthony turned me in his arms and chucked me under the chin until I looked up to meet his eyes. “You okay? You went all stiff on me as soon as he showed up.”

I couldn’t speak. My tongue was thick with dread and fear and a bit of hatred, and bile was slowly climbing up my throat and making my eyes sting. I nodded. Lying. I always lied when it came to Guy. Anthony didn’t look like he believed me, so I forced a smile to my lips. “Fine,” I forced out. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Want me to come with you?” There was a crease between his brows. Had to be from worry.

I shook my head, fully realizing my voice would betray me, and I skated over toward Guy.

“So what, he doesn’t trust you to be able to get rid of me on your own?” Guy asked, laughing, when I reached him.

I kept a few paces between us, though. No chance was I moving close enough for him to touch me. Because he would. He would touch me like he owned me. And that touch would make my skin crawl more than it already was from nothing more than seeing his sneering face.

I glanced over my shoulder. Anthony was far enough away that he couldn’t hear but close enough that he could intervene if needed. He had his eyes trained on the two of us. That helped calm the churning in my gut, but only so much.

“What are you doing here, Guy?” My voice cracked on the words. Nerves were eating me alive. I’d come a long way since I’d cut things off with him, but I wasn’t ready for this. To see him. To confront him. I wasn’t anywhere close to ready.

“I miss you, baby. I’m a mess without you.”

“You were always a mess with me, too.”

“Because I don’t know what to do if you’re not right by my side.” His voice had taken on the sickening tone he always used when he wanted to sweet-talk me into forgiving him. “This is a joke, right? Skating with him? You’ve got to come back to me.”

“This is not a joke. Anthony and I are partners now. I’m not coming back.”

“You have to.” His eyes went dark, taking on the slightly crazed look he got if he didn’t get his way. “I’ll die without you. As my partner. As my girl.”

I shook my head and backed up on the ice, putting more distance between me and Guy…less between me and Anthony. “It’s not going to happen, Guy. Let it go, okay? Just let me go.”

“I can’t. You know I’m worthless without you.”

I knew he was worthless, but that had nothing to do with me.

“I’ve seen you with your new boy toy. The Babcock kid. Hockey player.”

My throat got tight. Dry. I couldn’t swallow. “He’s not my boy toy.”

“No? Then you won’t care if anything happens to him?”

My insides knotted. Twisted. Tightened. I broke out in a cold sweat. Clammy. “What are you saying?”

“You be sure he’s not your boy toy, okay?”

“You need to leave,” I forced out. “Go back home.” But he wouldn’t. He might never be out of my life. The reality of the situation was creeping in on me, turning everything in my head into a gray, foggy, sodden mess. I had to go. I backed up again, until I felt Anthony’s warmth behind me. His hands landed on my arms, and he stroked them up and down, warming me. Soothing. A reminder that I wasn’t alone. That I didn’t have to live in Guy’s world anymore, that his lies were no longer the reality I chose for myself.

Guy turned and left, but his veiled threats wouldn’t go with him. They hung in the air, surrounding me. Suffocating me. I might not be his partner, his girlfriend anymore…but he still owned a piece of my mind.

Would I ever be free of him, once and for all?

“You okay?” Anthony asked. His voice calmed me down almost as much as the solidness of his body behind me.

I nodded. Blinking to keep myself from crying.

“Because you don’t seem okay. What was he doing here?”

I shook my head. The last thing I needed now was for everyone else in my life to start freaking out about Guy. I was doing enough of that on my own for all of us. “He only wanted to stop by since he was in town,” I forced through my teeth, tasting bile as the words left me. Because it was a lie.

I’d never been one to lie before—except where Guy was involved. But that appeared to be all I could do when it came to him.

“YOU LOOK LIKE somebody just ran over your dog,” Sara said. “But you don’t have a dog. What gives?” We were at the mall to go shoe shopping, along with both kids. She had Cassidy in her stroller, and Connor was running up ahead, but only as far as his leash would allow. Yes, she had her kid on a leash. Sadly, I understood all too well why such a thing was necessary. She took a moment to adjust his leash to prevent him from running quite so far ahead.

I couldn’t explain why she thought she needed more shoes. She had an entire closet full of them. In fact, I was pretty sure that about half of the money Cam had left after helping me out all the time went toward buying Sara new shoes. Still, at least going shoe shopping together was a way for me to forget about the fact that Guy had showed up at practice today.

Or I was trying to. But Sara was digging, and she was the one person here in Portland, other than my counselor, who knew anything about what had happened with him.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“I may not be the sharpest cheese in the fridge, but I’m not stupid. It’s not nothing.”

“Well, you tell me. What do you think it is?”

“Did Levi try to pull something?” She shook her head as soon as the words were out. “No, not his style. He’s still trying to win you over. Anthony? Did something happen in practice that reminded you of Guy?”

I didn’t say anything. I only bit down on my tongue.

“That’s it. What’d that fucker do?”

“Mommy! You said fuck!” Connor screeched so loud it echoed through the entire mall.

“How did you even hear that?” I asked, laughing. He was easily a good five feet ahead of us, and it was jam-packed in the mall, people everywhere, music playing over the speakers.

“He has selective hearing,” Sara said, drawing in his leash and giving halfhearted apologetic looks to everyone walking by with scandalized expressions. “Don’t you remember the rule?” she said to Connor once he was inches away. “Just because Mommy says something, that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to repeat it.”

“I’m telling Daddy on you,” Connor said in a taunting voice.

“Well, goody goody. I’m telling him on you, too. And you can bet he’ll probably spank you this time.”

Connor grinned. “If he spanks me, he’ll spank you.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Sara muttered under her breath to me. But there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks. Sara didn’t ever blush. Never. I was pretty sure I’d just picked up on something about her and my brother that I’d prefer not to know.

Mind bleach. I needed mind bleach.

Then as quickly as the blush had come, it was gone, and she waved Connor ahead. “Go. Run. Burn off some of that energy.”

He took off again, but with the shortened leash, he could only run wide circles in front of us.

I couldn’t help grinning at her. “You do realize you act more like he’s an annoying little brother than your son, right?”

“I keep waiting for him to grow out of this phase.”

“Something tells me that won’t happen any time soon.”

“Something tells me you’re trying to change the subject,” she said. She gave me a side-eyed glance. “So are we taking body parts to feed to the alligators in Florida?”

I shrugged. “Not Anthony’s.”

“Levi?”

“No.”

“Cadence Johnson, you’d better fucking tell me what the hell’s going on, or I’m going to feed your body parts to the alligators.”

This time, Connor turned to look, but he stared with wide eyes. Sara’s tone had changed. At least he recognized that much. He might just make it to five years old, after all.

I smiled, hoping it would help calm him down so he’d think everything was okay. Once he started running circles again, I said, “Guy showed up at practice today.”

“He what? He’s in Portland? Oh, you just wait until I get—”

“Calm down so you don’t scare the kids.”

“Cadence, this isn’t a calm down sort of moment.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, let’s think about this for a moment, hmm?” She kept her voice down this time, but the intensity was still ramped up. “What was he doing here? After he fucking dropped you, after he made you have a fucking miscarriage, what the fuck does he think he’s doing here?”

I shook my head, trying to defuse her. Instead of coming home, I should have gone straight to Wendy’s office and begged for a quick session. Something. Anything but let Sara see how much Guy’s drop-in had upset me. But I hadn’t, and now she was flying off the deep end. If I didn’t calm her down and convince her I was fine, there was no telling what she might do. Like tell Cam.

“I don’t honestly know what he wants,” I said. “I mean, he was talking like he couldn’t live without me. Stuff like that.”

“He’s going to have to live without you. I’m not letting that son of a bitch anywhere close to you.” She stopped short, causing Connor to jerk against the end of his leash and stumble back a few steps until he landed on his butt. He laughed maniacally, but he didn’t seem hurt at all. Sara stared into my eyes, hers a little wild. “What did Anthony do? And your coach?”

“Ellen was already working with her next class. Anthony stayed close.”

“How close?”

“Close enough.”

“Hmph.” She started walking again, though. “Do you think Guy’s leaving now? Is he done fucking with you, or will he come back?”

I shrugged. “No idea.” Only that was a lie, just like everything I’d said to Anthony about what Guy wanted was a lie. There was one thing I understood without a doubt about Guy, and it was that he never gave up easily. If dissuading him were possible, he never would have shown up in Portland. He would have been out of my life as soon as I’d informed him I was done with him.

But that hadn’t happened. There’d been weeks of phone calls, text messages, emails, notes left on the front door of my house or under the wiper blade of my car. He’d come by and pounded on the door, demanding that I let him in so we could talk. After a while, he’d let it drop, only to pick up with the obsessiveness again after a month of silence. That had repeated time and again until I’d left. Until I’d come to Portland.

And now he was here.

I had a very good idea about what Guy wanted and whether he would leave now. Once again, I felt myself being pulled under by a powerful tide, and I didn’t understand how to free myself from it.

Sara scowled. “Other than trying to get you back, did he say anything?”

I shrugged. Again. It was my go-to defense mechanism. I had always done that around Guy, because he never wanted me to answer him. He only wanted to act like he’d asked for my opinion, like he was taking my feelings into consideration.

“Nothing?” she demanded.

“He knows about Levi,” I said quietly. I wasn’t certain why I’d said anything at all.

“Bet he can’t stand knowing you’ve got a good man in your life.”

“It’s not like that with Levi,” I argued. Too quickly. Even I heard the defensiveness in my response.

“You don’t think he’ll do anything there, do you?”

I shook my head. It was only me Guy would hurt. Wasn’t it? But I’d never thought he would actually hurt me until the day he’d dropped me so I would miscarry. And it was all because, when he’d suggested I should have an abortion, I’d told him I needed time to think about it first. I hadn’t wanted to run off the same day and have the procedure done. I’d needed to figure out how I felt about it, but Guy hadn’t allowed me that. If he’d been able to so casually hurt me physically, what else was he capable of, given the right circumstances? I honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

“We should tell the police,” Sara said.

“Tell them what? That my ex-partner came to my practice and asked me to come back to him?”

“More like that your ex-partner who has fucking abused you before came to your practice because he’s fucking stalking you,” she said.

“You’re seriously exaggerating what is going on here.” Wasn’t she? She had to be. Or was I actually trying to convince myself of that, but really, she was right?

Days like this, I couldn’t decide if I would rather be an adult or a kid. Adults had to actually deal with things like this, but kids had to be told what to do.

Which was better now?

“I want to tell Cam,” Sara said as she turned Cassidy’s stroller into the first shoe store she came across. “Run it all by him and see if he thinks I’m exaggerating.”

“No! You promised.”

“I did,” she said, dropping her voice well below her usual level. “But I think there are things you’re not being entirely truthful about.”

“I’ve told you the truth.” I simply hadn’t told her everything.

“Hmm,” she said. Scowling. “You’re killing me, Cadence. I’m worried about you. I appreciate that you’re seeing a counselor and all, but I’m worried.”

“But you won’t tell him, will you?”

“I need to think about it.”

There wasn’t much to do but accept that and move on. And in the meantime, I needed to sort out what I should do about Levi.

CHAPTER EIGHT

LEVI

“YOU’RE COMING TO my fucking birthday party whether you like it or not, numbnuts.” Koz tugged on his tie, always uncomfortable wearing anything more elaborate than sweats, and looked down the concourse toward the exit for the parking garage. Then he glared at me as if daring me to contradict him.

We’d just finished beating the Habs in a shootout—Jamie had scored the game winner—and my feet were ready to move toward the escalator leading up to the owner’s box, taking the rest of me along with them whether that was what I intended to do or not. I didn’t exactly have plans with Cadence for tonight, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make them with her. Did it? But then again, we weren’t dating. We were friends. That was all. And friends shouldn’t simply assume that the other friend would go along with anything and everything on the spur of the moment.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “But it’s a Saturday night.” My complaint was feeble and I knew it.

“And you don’t have a fucking date or anywhere more important to be than my birthday party, so don’t pretend you do.”

It was true. Cadence still hadn’t given in and agreed to take our friendship to the next level, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to see her tonight. If I dropped by the owner’s box to see her… Maybe she’d give in tonight. If I didn’t try, I’d never know.

Nicky streaked past us, bumping into Koz as he went. “Sorry. Jessica’s in labor!”

“Go,” Koz shouted after him, actually grinning for once.

“Your birthday isn’t even until tomorrow,” I argued once Nicky was gone.

“My birthday starts in exactly forty-seven minutes. Clock’s ticking. Maybe Nicky’s kid will be lucky enough to share my birthday. But if you aren’t at my place when the clock strikes midnight and we start celebrating, I will kick your ass from here to eternity.”

Harry came out into the concourse this time, heading for the garage wearing one of his ridiculous bowties. No guy in the league but Harry could get away with wearing a damn bowtie all the time. Fucking ginger. No soul. If he had one, there was no chance bowties would work on him. Tonight, he even had on a vest as part of his suit.

Still, he’d been my defense partner for the last couple of weeks, and we were working well together after my first big blunder. Whether the guy had a soul or not, at least he and I were making a good team. Hell, he’d even scored tonight’s game-tying goal off a one-timer from my pass.

Koz caught sight of Harry’s bright red hair flashing in the lights and yelled at him across the empty space. “My place. You’re coming, right? All the single guys are supposed to be there. Party of the year.”

“I have plans already, Koz. Can’t do it.”

“Do your plans involve strippers? Because mine do.”

Harry laughed. “Strippers don’t come close to what I’ve got planned. Not gonna happen this time. I’ll buy your dinner tomorrow to make up for it.” With that, he disappeared down the corridor.

Better than strippers, huh? Did Harry actually have plans—and if so, did they involve Dani Weber, who was still in town—or was he simply uninterested in one of Koz’s crazy parties? Harry always seemed so straight-laced, but sometimes he threw me for a loop with something that seemed completely out of character. Like flirting with Dani that night. Out of all the guys on the team, he might be the most private.

“What the fuck is he trying to pull off, thinking anything’s better than strippers?”

I could think of a lot of things that were better than strippers. Like a night with Cadence. Hell, even if Jonny and Sara went out for a night without the kids and we spent the whole time babysitting Connor and Cassidy, and Connor jumped up and down on my balls, that’d be a lot better than strippers. But I didn’t expect Koz to understand that. He lived in a world that was all his own. The rest of us could drop in and look around sometimes, but rarely did any of it make any sense to anyone but him.

I also knew without a shadow of a doubt that if I didn’t show up at Koz’s party, he’d hold a grudge the size of Mount Hood. I was his road roommate. His best friend on the team. One of the only guys who managed to put up with his shit on a regular basis.

So I headed back inside and up to the owner’s box to make my excuses to Cadence. Only she wasn’t there.

Sara saw me and headed over almost immediately, digging around in her purse for something. She handed me the folded piece of paper when she got it free from her bag. “She asked me to give you this.”

“Thanks.” I folded it over one more time and slipped it into my pocket. Whatever it said, I got the sense I should read it alone. “Is she all right?” Every single home game we’d had since her arrival in Portland, Cadence had been there. She hadn’t told me she had anything else going on. Granted, she didn’t owe me any explanations. We were still nothing more than friends, however much I might want us to be more. There was no reason she had to tell me anything at all. It was entirely possible she even wanted to stop being my friend. Something squeezed my chest at the thought, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot to be done about it. She might never change her mind and give me the opportunity I wanted. Then where was I? All alone, same as always.

“She’s fine,” Sara said. But her eyes told me a different story.

“Did I fuck things up somehow? What did I do?” It had to be something I’d done. My brain couldn’t process any other explanation for the worry in Sara’s eyes.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t you.”

But the fact that she’d said it wasn’t me meant I hadn’t imagined things, and there was something wrong. But who had done something to hurt her?

Jonny? No, that couldn’t be it. As far as Cadence was concerned, her older brother had practically hung the moon.

Maybe something was going on with their mother, though, or one of their sisters? But if there was a family emergency of some sort, Jonny would be aware of it, and he would have gone home to deal with it along with her. That couldn’t be the problem.

Possibly there were issues with Anthony. But why wouldn’t she be here, with her family, if she was struggling with something related to her new partner? And based on the way the guy had acted around her the day we’d gone to ChocolateFest, I couldn’t dream that he’d ever do anything to hurt her. If anything, he was as protective of her as Jonny was.

None of the scenarios that came to mind made any sense at all, and Sara didn’t seem inclined to fill me in. I thanked her for passing on Cadence’s note and headed down to my car to read it.

Levi,

I’m truly sorry to do it like this, but I think I need some space. Please don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to hurt you, but I never should have let things go this far.

I’m so sorry. Please, if you can, try to forgive me.

Cadence

No real explanation at all. Just a fucking Dear John letter. She couldn’t even bother to call me, let alone tell me to my face. I had to remind myself again that she didn’t owe me anything, not even the courtesy of telling me to my face that she wanted to break off the bit of friendship that we had.

It still hurt like a motherfucker, though.

For a moment, I thought about calling her. But if she’d wanted to talk to me, she could have called. I thought about driving over to Jonny’s house and trying to catch her there before Jonny and Sara got home with the kids. But, again, she could have come to the Moda Center tonight if she’d wanted to see me. Instead, she’d chosen to send a terse note with Sara and have that be the end of it.

So that was it. Right? It was over. Done. Whatever I’d thought was brewing between us was no more, and I was back to only being me, the guy who always fucked everything up.

I started my car and headed out of the parking garage, unsure where I was headed. In no time, I pulled up in the lot in front of Koz’s place.

Strippers. He’d said there would be strippers. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d have plenty of beer.

Time to get shitfaced.

CADENCE

CONNOR TACKLED ME when they came through the door after the game, attempting to tickle my ribs. He didn’t have good tickle technique, though, so all he did was dig in with his fingers. At least his nails were trimmed. I laughed anyway and flopped back on the sofa to give him better access as Sara headed straight upstairs with a zonked out Cassidy to put her down for the night.

Cam crossed through the living room, tossed his bag in the laundry room, and came back to rescue me from his son, lifting the little boy up over his head. “Bedtime,” he said. “You were supposed to fall asleep in the car.”

Connor giggled in response.

Cam raised a brow. “Why are you still so wired?”

“Mommy bought me candy.”

My brother rolled his eyes at me and groaned, slowly lowering Connor to the floor. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Connor started running in circles around the coffee table.

“Good game,” I said once I caught my breath.

“At least we came away with two points. It wasn’t a sure thing,” Cam replied. “I told Nicky I’d come up to the hospital with him to wait. Jessica’s in labor. Want to come?”

“I do,” Connor said. He stopped running, grabbed my hand, and tugged to pull me up from my prone position. “Let’s go, CayCay.”

“Not you. You’re going to bed,” his father said, then turned back to me. “Come with me. Keep me company. We need to talk.”

There wasn’t a question in what he’d said this time around, even though he’d originally worded it as an invitation. It came out more like an order. Cam never tried to boss me around. That meant it was serious, whatever it was. Had Sara told him? Or had Levi said something after reading the note I’d sent with Sara?

My pulse slowed to a crawl.

Hanging out in a hospital waiting room wasn’t exactly how I’d envisioned the rest of my night, but I didn’t see that I had much choice. “All right,” I said, hoping my wariness didn’t come out in my voice. “Let me go grab a sweater.”

Cam grunted and carried Connor upstairs to turn him over to Sara. I followed them and slipped into my room, closing the door and leaning against it. I needed a moment to settle my nerves. It wasn’t any use, though. The more I tried to calm down, the more heightened my anxiety grew. After a moment, I took a sweater out of the closet and headed back out, only to bump into Sara.

She grabbed hold of my biceps to steady me and looked me over a few times, a slight scowl marring her otherwise movie-star perfect features. “You’re pale.”

“Did you say something to him?” I hissed. “You promised.”

She shook her head. “Not yet, but I was seriously thinking about it.”

“Levi, then?”

“Doubt it. He took off after I gave him your note. A bunch of the guys are going to Koz’s place tonight. I’m sure that’s where he is.”

“Then what is this about?” I waved my arm in the direction of my brother and the living room, in case she wasn’t clear.

“Cadence?” Cam called up the stairs before she answered. “You ready?”

Sara pulled me in for a brief, tight hug, then nudged me on my way. “Go. I don’t know any more than you do, and there’s no better way to find out what he wants than to let him get to the point.”

“Fat lot of help you are,” I muttered.

“It’s always better to come straight out with the truth, you know. Even if it hurts.”

“I can’t.” I blinked hard to show the tears threatening to fall who was boss as I headed down the stairs with my sweater draped over one arm. And it was the truth, as far as I could tell. There were some things in life that I simply wasn’t capable of doing, and telling my brother any of this beyond what he’d already discerned on his own was definitely one of them.

Sara did have a point, though. Maybe I would have to find a way to come clean with some of it. But how much? I wasn’t sure.

Cam winked when I reached him. His attempt to put me at ease didn’t do a darn thing to calm my nerves. He already had my coat and purse out of the closet, and he held them out for me before opening the door and heading down to his truck. I quickly donned my coat and hurried after him.

“Confession” by Florida Georgia Line poured through the speakers when I climbed in.

He backed out of the driveway without saying anything. I glanced over at him, watching the street lights flicker over his face as I tried to figure out how much he’d caught on to and what I should force myself to tell him.

“So you’ve been here almost a month now, and we’ve hardly talked,” he said, his tone conversational. “Things going all right?”

“Going great.” However casual it was starting, this conversation wasn’t going to be so light and breezy for long. I had no doubt about that. “I think I’ve spent more time with Sara and the kids than with you.”

“Part of the deal, playing in the NHL. My time’s not my own. You’ve been busy, too.” He cocked his head in my direction for a moment, just long enough for me to catch the wary expression drawing his brows together. “You and Sara getting along all right?”

“We always have. You know I adore her.”

His chuckle was loaded with sarcasm. “I do. I’m aware you’re nuts about her mainly because I love her. I think you’re stretching things to say you’ve always gotten along, though.”

“It’s not like we ever argued.”

“Argued? No. Only because she bites her tongue all the time. You drive her up the wall. At least most of the time. The two of you are as opposite as it’s possible for two people to be. I know she loves you even though you can be trying for her—for the same reason. You’re my sister, and she loves me, so she’s determined to put up with all your antics that drive her berserk. But you haven’t been. Not since you arrived.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “You’re always so bubbly and energetic and over-the-top happy. She’d been bracing herself for your arrival. But you’re as docile as ever.”

“Maybe it’s only that Connor’s being wilder than usual, so she doesn’t notice me as much.” But I hadn’t been myself lately. Cam was right, whether I wanted to admit it or not. If anything, I’d been practically morose, for me. Sara definitely hadn’t seemed as annoyed by me as she typically did, but then again, we’d been distracted by everything I’d told her about Guy. Our relationship was evolving from where it had started, back when she and Cam had first gotten together. Now we were much more equal than ever before. On level footing. I was no longer the obnoxious seventeen-year-old kid sister.

Cam didn’t even bother rebutting my suggestion. I hadn’t fooled him at all, apparently. My heart sunk.

“Everything okay with Anthony?”

“Everything’s great with Anthony. Better than expected.” I tried to force the usual lightness into my voice and not let on how unsettling today’s practice had been. It hadn’t had a darned thing to do with Anthony, after all. My brother wasn’t often able to tell when I was putting on a show for his benefit, thank goodness. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Because you and Sara were both acting funny when I got home this afternoon, and the only thing I thought of that was different was you’d had practice this morning. I wondered if anything had happened to upset you. And because you faked being too tired to come to the game tonight.”

“I was tired. I am tired.”

“I bet. It’s hard work, lying all the time.”

My breath all left me in a flood. “What do you mean?”

Cam came to a stop at a red light. “Only that I’m aware you and Sara are keeping something from me. I’ve always been able to see straight through you, and I can’t always tell what Sara is holding back, but I do realize when she’s trying to keep me in the dark.”

“See straight through me?” I fiddled with the buttons on my coat.

“Yeah. You’ve never fooled any of us. Not me, not Mom, not Corinne or Chloe. Yes, you’re as happy as a clam a lot of the time, but we know there’s a lot more to you than simply that. We know you use your smiles and personality to hide when you’re hurt.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Bullshit.” The light changed, and he eased into the intersection. “Maybe you don’t realize you do it, but you turn it on too much when you want people to think everything’s fine. Try to shine too bright. You’ve been doing it for months. Since you cut things off with Guy, according to Mom. When you were injured.”

“I just didn’t want anyone to worry too much about my ankle. It wasn’t like it was a serious enough injury to end my career or anything. No reason to let everyone get all worked up.”

“And stop it with trying to convince us your ankle was the problem, all right?”

I chewed on my lower lip. How much had they figured out? Corinne wouldn’t have dug into my medical records, would she? That was unethical. And illegal. My doctors couldn’t tell her anything without my permission.

“If you don’t think it was my ankle, what do you think it was?”

Sooner than expected, he was turning the truck into the parking lot at the hospital. He found a space near the Women’s Center and came to a stop before speaking again. “I wish you’d tell me what it was. All I know is I think it has a lot more to do with what’s going on inside you than with anything physical.”

There wasn’t a thing to say to that. If I even bothered trying to respond, he was bound to hear the truth, no matter what words I tried to feed him. I stared down at my hands in my lap.

“So I’m right,” he said after a moment.

I shrugged.

“Is it helping to have Sara around to talk to? Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“I came because I wanted to skate with Anthony.”

“Mm hmm.” Cam turned off the engine and put his keys in his pocket. “So is 501 your rebound, then? You’re with him so you can land on your feet after having your heart broken?”

“Guy didn’t break my heart.” More like my soul. “And I’m not with Levi, anyway. I told him I needed some space.”

“Why’d you do that? I finally came to terms with the idea, and you give him the heave-ho?”

“I’m not ready,” I said, evading reality. Because the reason I’d pushed Levi away had very little to do with me and even less to do with Levi. It had everything to do with Guy.

Cam stared at me the way he always had, where it felt like he was trying to see through all my smiles and laughter to reach what lay underneath. “I think you are ready,” he said after a near-painful moment. “I think the problem is you’re scared.”

He had no idea just how right he was.

CHAPTER NINE

CADENCE

NICKY HAD SPENT the entire time we were at the hospital in the room with his wife, so there wasn’t any true reason for Cam to be here. His niece and nephews—he and Jessica were their guardians now—were too young to stay at home alone all night, but at the same time too old to need much supervision. Still, we kept an eye on the three of them. Elin, the oldest, kept her two younger brothers in check without our help.

By two in the morning, the boys were dropping off, dozing in their seats in the waiting room. Elin occasionally got up to go visit her aunt and uncle, giving us status updates when she came back. More often, she had her nose right up against her phone, texting like crazy.

“Who do you think she’s talking to this late?” I asked Cam, dropping my voice so she wouldn’t hear me from across the way.

“She’s fourteen. I bet all her friends are up right now, whether school is happening tomorrow or not.” He laughed, slipping his phone out of his pocket to check for messages. “Soupy’s oldest is her best friend. Those two are almost inseparable. That’d be my guess.” He scrolled through a few screens before settling on something and pausing to read. “Sounds like Koz’s party was something else.”

I yawned, stretching my arms overhead. These waiting room chairs were murder on my butt. “You wish you were there instead of here?”

“Sara would kill me if I was there, based on the pictures I’m seeing.”

I raised a brow and stifled a laugh.

“Don’t say a word,” he grumbled, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

I drew my fingers across my lips, then tossed the pretend key over my shoulder. “Who sent you pictures, anyway? Is someone trying to land you in trouble with your wife?”

“Doubtful. They’re just being guys.”

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it.

“You don’t want to see more?”

“Not particularly.”

“Liar.”

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back.

Better not to go back there, since I’d gotten him to drop the subject when we’d arrived at the hospital. I bit down on my tongue to keep from putting my foot in my mouth. “What if it’s someone else? Could be Nicky,” I pointed out.

Cam scowled and dug out his phone, glaring at me. Apparently someone was calling, not texting. He swiped his thumb across the screen and answered it. “What?” he demanded. I couldn’t hear the person on the other end well enough to make out what they were saying, let alone determine who it was. A couple of moments passed with Cam listening. “What the hell did you do?” He glanced over at me and shook his head, his expression not giving a darned thing away to me. “I’m at the hospital with Nicky and Jessica. The kids are here. I can’t go off and leave them in the waiting room.” Then silence again. “Because they’re fucking kids, Harry. Try 501 or one of the other guys at Koz’s party.” A couple more beats passed by, and Cam got up to pace. “Well, what do you want me to do? I can’t make those guys sober up in the next five minutes. I can’t wake Babs or someone else up if you can’t.”

I found myself leaning forward in my seat to hear him as he walked, trying to figure out what sort of trouble Harry had gotten himself into.

“Call Bergy or Webs. That’s what you should do.” He walked back in my direction, not paying any attention at all to me. “Because if you’re in jail, you’ve got to have someone bail you out. And they’re going to find out eventually. Might as well let them know what the hell’s going on now so you don’t surprise them with it. Maybe they can start figuring out how to deal with the media…” His voice trailed off as he stalked down the hall.

Jail? Admittedly, the only things I knew about Harry were that he was one of Cam’s teammates and his hair was as red as could be, but I never would have pegged him as one who’d do anything to land himself in jail. What on earth was going on?

I didn’t have long to wonder because as soon as my brother disappeared down the hall, Levi came walking in, filling the space Cam had vacated only moments ago. He was staring down at his phone, not paying attention to where he was going until he practically tripped over my feet, crossed at the ankles.

“Sorry, wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” he said, slurring the words slightly and glancing up from his phone. Then his eyes met mine. He reeked of beer, but he smiled at me, sweet and cocky all at once. That combination only lasted a few moments, soon dissipating into a pained grimace. “Cadence,” he breathed. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you okay?” He felt my forehead with the back of the hand holding his phone, as if checking me for fever, of all the ridiculous things he could have done.

“I’m fine. Better than you are,” I teased.

He raised a brow, like he doubted me, but that slight change in his position was all it took to make him sway where he stood. He had to be as drunk as I’d ever seen a person.

I reached up a hand to grab hold of his arm and steady him. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe I should.” So he did. Not very gracefully. He plopped down into the seat next to me so hard it nearly skittered backward across the floor. If it had been against a wall, he might have caused some damage from the force. “I’m a bit drunk.”

“More than a bit, I’d say. Please tell me you didn’t drive here.” I had the awful sense that my note was behind it, too.

He shook his head. “Ghost has all the guys’ keys. Took a cab.”

That was a relief. “So why are you here?” Never mind the fact that he’d asked me the same thing and I hadn’t answered. As drunk as he was, I doubted he could remember his own name for long, let alone anything more pressing.

“Because there aren’t enough beers or strippers in the world to wipe your face from my mind.”

Ouch. So I was the reason for it. Not a good feeling, even if I nearly cracked up at the way he’d said it. I bit down on my lower lip, trying hard not to burst a gut while laughing at the ridiculous honesty of that statement. Still, the pain behind it was evident, not only in how insanely wasted Levi was but in the lines around his mouth and eyes. That sobered me up quickly enough, even if it didn’t come close to helping him sober up.

“Thought I’d keep Nicky company,” he slurred. “Koz wanted to keep throwing strippers my way, having them give me lap dances and shit, so I’d stop being so depressed about you. But I don’t want them. I want you. I want you way too fucking much, but you don’t want me.”

I blinked a few times, not sure if I was trying to fight off tears or if I was simply stunned by what I was about to do. “I do want you,” I said before I spent too much time analyzing it. “That’s the problem.”

His head whipped around to stare at me with bloodshot eyes. “Why’s it a problem?”

“Because I’m scared.” There wasn’t any point hiding the truth. Levi was so drunk, there was no chance he’d remember a single word I said. I could tell him everything without fear that any of it would sink in.

Heck, maybe I should. It’d be nice to tell someone in my life everything, or at least someone other than my counselor. I’d filled Sara in on some of it. Cam only knew the bare bones. Mom and my sisters were aware of even less than Cam. The thought of relieving myself of the burden, of ridding myself of the enormous lump that had settled in the center of my chest and refused to budge, was so tempting I doubted I could resist.

“You scared of me?”

I shook my head. “Not you.” If anything, I was scared for him. And for me. There hadn’t been too many times in my life that I’d even admitted to myself how much fear I lived with on a daily basis, but Guy showing up at my practice today had sent it all rushing straight back to my heart. Stopping my pulse. Stealing everything good from me in an instant.

There wasn’t any good way to describe it other than fear. And it was debilitating.

“It’s that asshole, Guy, isn’t it?” Levi pressed. “He’s still in your head.”

“In my head?” I shrugged. “It’s not as simple as that.” Nothing was simple.

“Why not?”

I hesitated. Glanced across the waiting room to find that the boys were still fast asleep and Elin might as well be. She wasn’t paying any attention to us. Cam still hadn’t returned from dealing with whatever trouble Harry had gotten himself into. All of that meant there was no point in lying, no reason to tell him anything less than the truth. I bit down on my lower lip again and then I went for it.

“He showed up at practice today.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Levi tried to stand up, but his foot slipped and he fell down again almost immediately.

I put my hand on his, hoping it would keep him where he was. We might be in a hospital, but that was no reason for him to go and hurt himself by doing something stupid. “Trying to get me back,” I said. “Telling me how he can’t live without me. Threatening me. And threatening you, too.”

“What about me?”

“Guy knows about you. He didn’t come right out and say he’d hurt you if I didn’t stay away from you, but he might as well have.”

“So that’s what your note was about? Trying to warn me off? So, what, so you can fucking protect me?” Levi was practically roaring now, with no signs of recognizing he was in a public place and should keep it down. “That’s fucking backwards, Cadence. Screwed up. I’m not the one who needs to be protected from this son of a bitch. I saw how he fucking made you cry back in the Winter Games. Maybe no one else did, but I did. I saw it. Fucking bastard.”

Throughout his entire tirade, I kept trying to calm him down so he wouldn’t wake the kids or cause a scene. There weren’t any others in the waiting room at this hour, but there was no telling when someone else might come in. His eyes were flashing, so full of hurt and anger and booze that I could barely find the sweet, self-effacing, funny guy I’d come to care about underneath it all.

“Levi, please,” I said, taking his hand in both of mine and drawing it to my lap.

“Has he threatened you before?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Or maybe. I don’t know. Everything’s a mess in my head.”

“What everything? Tell me.”

My shoulders started to go up in a shrug, almost involuntarily, but I stopped myself. “It started years ago. Not long after we first became a team. Things were going great. Our coaches and choreographers loved us and had high hopes for us. I thought I’d hit the jackpot because we seemed like such a perfect match. But before long, it started. He’d catch a rut with his skate in practice, and because of the way we’d be skating side by side, I would stumble or maybe fall. In the early days, he would glower at me and grumble about keeping my footing, and I’d apologize and promise to do better. There was never any point arguing that it hadn’t been my fault, that he was the one who’d caused the mishap. He wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“Before long, I started to believe it myself—because the rest of the time, he was as charming as ever. He was great in front of the cameras. He was personable. He went on and on to anyone who would listen about what a great team we made, how we were going to go as far as we could in figure skating. We were going to win the gold. Or we would, he’d tell me, as long as I got my act together and stopped screwing everything up all the time.”

“Son of a bitch,” Levi grumbled. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. Although, he wasn’t slurring his words anymore. My admission might have done the unthinkable and sobered him up somewhat. That could be dangerous. Maybe he’d remember some of this tomorrow… I couldn’t exactly stop telling him now that I’d started, though.

“It really was my fault often enough that I took it all on myself. And the longer we were together, the worse it got. Early on, he was careful to only berate me when we were alone and no one else would hear. But once we started dating, that changed. I’m not sure if it was because we were together all the time or something else, but he forgot all about that filter. He’d do it quietly so the whole world wouldn’t hear, but hearing about how inadequate I was quickly became a daily thing. And it spread to areas that weren’t strictly related to figure skating. If I wanted to go out with my sisters, he gave me a hard time because I wasn’t giving him enough attention. If I tried to start up a friendship with someone, he soon convinced me that relationship was bad for me, so I’d cut it off before it turned into anything substantial or lasting. He did his best to make sure he was the only person with any influence over me, the only one who held any sway.”

“Why the fuck did you put up with that?”

This time, I couldn’t stop myself from shrugging. “It started so small, but it kept building. Gradually. A bit at a time, he took over my life. I thought he loved me and was pushing me to be the best. That he was looking out for me. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was cutting me off from everyone in my life who would put a stop to it.”

“So what changed? I mean, you were still with him at the Games. And he was still being a bastard. That much was clear to me.”

And now we arrived at the part I had such difficulty putting into words. “A few months later, I was pregnant. I told him as soon as I realized, before I’d had a chance to figure out what I wanted to do about it. He flew off the handle. Screamed bloody murder at me. He said I was trying to ruin our careers. That I’d gotten knocked up on purpose because I was trying to hurt him. Then he demanded I go in for an abortion.”

“And did you? You must have,” Levi said. There was so much sadness simmering beneath the anger in him. With his free hand, he tucked some of my hair behind my ear. Such a gentle and unexpected touch. Too much more of that, and he might just undo me.

I was both intrigued and frightened by the prospect.

I shook my head. I needed to let it all out. Now that I’d started talking, the urge to plow through and empty the whole clip was so strong I felt powerless to stop it. “I didn’t have an abortion. I didn’t think I wanted one, but no matter what, I wasn’t ready to make a snap decision. Not about something like that. So I told him I needed some time to decide what I wanted. Guy sulked all night, telling me over and over again that I was doing this to hurt him and there was no other explanation that made any sense. The next day in practice, we were working on a lift, and he dropped me. He hadn’t hit a rut or anything like that. It was a lift we’d done hundreds, maybe thousands of times before, and he’d never once dropped me. But this time he did. Hard. It was almost like he threw me into the boards more than dropped me.”

“And you miscarried,” Levi finished.

I nodded. “My ankle was sprained pretty badly, but I lost the pregnancy. Had to go in for a D and C. We told everyone it was all about my ankle, though.”

Levi was calm. Too calm. It felt like the dangerous sort of calm that Cam tended to arrive at right before he went off the deep end in trying to protect someone he loved. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking, worrying about what he might do.

“So this son of a bitch treats you like shit for years, knocks you up, then he hurts you bad enough that you lose the baby. Then you leave, and he follows you? And threatens you? Am I understanding this right?”

I wasn’t shocked by hearing profanity, but Levi seemed to have lost some sort of filter over that. Likely because of all the alcohol in his system. In all the time we’d been together, he’d kept it in check a lot better than this. It knocked down a layer of my defenses, leaving me vulnerable. “There was more in between, but yeah. That’s basically it.”

“What kind of more?” Levi growled.

“Nothing too serious. He just wouldn’t take the hint. He kept calling me, leaving me notes on my door or my car. That sort of thing.”

“He stalked you.”

“I wouldn’t go—”

“He fucking stalked you. He abused you for years, and then when you tried to put an end to it, he started stalking you. And he’s still doing it. He’s trying to intimidate you into doing whatever the fuck he wants you to do, and that’s why he’s threatening me. Well, not to my face. I doubt he wants to do that. It’s all about getting to you. But he followed you here to keep stalking you, Cadence.”

I swallowed hard. When he put it like that, there wasn’t much point in trying to argue with him. Maybe I’d never thought of any of it in quite those terms, but there was a sickening ring of truth to them. “Maybe,” I said slowly, taking my hands from his and wrapping my arms around my middle.

“Instead of calling the police, you decided to take things into your own hands and break things off with me.”

“Do you honestly think the police—”

“Yes, I damn well think the police need to be involved. And not because I’m scared for me. I’m scared for you. I’m scared for your brother and his kids. I’m scared for your fucking partner and your coach, and the barista who sells you your morning coffee. This guy’s a fucking time bomb, from what I can tell.”

The last thing in the world I would ever want to do was subject my niece and nephew to anything Guy might come up with. And now that Levi had mentioned them, all sorts of horrible thoughts swarmed my mind. To that point, I’d only been thinking of myself and Levi. There were way too many people Guy might hurt in order to get to me, though: Levi, my mother and sisters, Cam and Sara, Connor and Cassidy. He could even try to hurt Anthony, Ellen, or Jesse.

I blinked, wishing my pulse would slow down. The blood raced through me so fast, my veins might’ve ended up with whiplash.

“How the hell can Jonny be aware of all this and not insist on involving the police?” Levi demanded.

“He doesn’t know.”

“Didn’t,” Cam cut in from behind us, his voice quiet and seething with fury. “I didn’t know. Now I do.”

“I…” Words failed me as I looked back and forth between these two furious men. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Cam clipped off.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell him?” Levi asked. “I mean, I understand why you didn’t say anything to me. Sort of. We were only friends, or whatever the hell kind of bull you’ve got in your head about the two of us. But he’s your brother. You’re living with him and his kids.”

Cam came around in front of us, his arms crossed in an intimidating posture that broke my heart. “How much of this is my wife aware of?”

I shook my head. “Don’t blame Sara. I made her promise—”

“You made her promise not to say a word about this to me. When your safety was concerned. When my family’s safety is concerned.” His glare was enough to melt my bones. “I do blame her.”

“No, please don’t,” I begged, blinking back tears. What had I done? The last thing on earth I wanted was for anything to come between my brother and sister-in-law simply because I had acted like an idiot. But that was exactly what appeared to be happening. And it was all my fault. “She was going to tell you.”

“Oh, was she? When, exactly, was she planning to do this? Not soon enough.” He shook his head in a cloud of disgust and disappointment. “She should have told me as soon as she knew anything. She should have—”

“Please, Cam. It was only because I begged her not to say a word to you.” I blinked some more, but it was no use. Tears streamed down my cheeks. There were few things in the world that cut me to the core the way my brother’s disappointment did.

“We’ll go to the police in the morning,” he replied. Not a word about forgiving Sara for doing as I’d asked.

What a mess I’d caused. My only consolation was in the knowledge that the majority of their anger wasn’t directed at me. There was some, of course. Because I hadn’t trusted my brother enough to tell him. Because I’d ignored the signs Guy had given me for far too long. Because I’d been stupid and hadn’t thought about the very real threat he posed to everyone in my life, assuming he would limit his shenanigans to me. And that they’d merely be his usual tactics, not anything that would truly hurt me, despite the fact that he’d already done precisely that.

“I’m sorry,” I said, but my voice cracked, coming out as barely more than a whisper. “I should have—” But my throat closed up before anything else would come out.

“Yes. You should have,” he clipped out. Then he stalked across the waiting room and checked on the three kids, taking a seat beside Elin, who was now dead asleep, even through all the emotion pouring out of us on the other side of the space. Almost as soon as he sat, her head fell over to land on his arm. At once, he turned back to his usual teddy bear self, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her closer the way he used to cradle me when I was a little girl.

I tried to blink my tears away, but it was no use. All I could do was stare at my hands in my lap and rethink all the things I should have done differently. It went back for years, so I could easily spend weeks going over them all in my mind ad nauseam until I made myself sick with it.

Levi reached out a hand and brushed a tear from my cheek. “So is this the only reason you wanted space? Because you didn’t want Guy to hurt me?”

I nodded, swallowing hard in the hope that I could move the massive lump away from my vocal chords.

“So if I don’t care? If I refuse to let him intimidate me away from you? Then we can keep going as we have been?”

“I—” My tongue was thick and dry as I looked up to meet Levi’s eyes. “Maybe we should see what the police say first?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care what the police say. No one’s going to keep me away from you. Not now. I’ll only stay away if you convince me that’s what you want and it has nothing to do with this son of a bitch. And I promise you, I won’t be easy to convince of that. Because I think it’s bullshit.”

“I’ve never been a good liar,” I said.

“Good.” The corners of his lips quirked up in a cocky smile. “But Cadence?”

“Hmm?”

“I still want more. A lot more.”

The lump in my throat grew so big I couldn’t take a breath anymore because of the way he was looking at me. Like he wanted to wrap me up in his arms and hold on until I gave in. Like he wanted to take me somewhere private and do things that would make my brother want to kill him. Like he wanted to kiss me.

And I wanted to let him. I wanted it really, really badly. So much I almost tasted the wanting.

But Nicky bust into the waiting room, grinning from ear to ear. The slamming doors woke the kids, and he rushed over to their blinking faces. “It’s a girl!”

CHAPTER TEN

LEVI

I WOKE UP with a splitting headache, the urge to puke up my guts, and the knowledge that there wasn’t a damned thing I’d done to cause Cadence to want to back away. Not only that, but it looked like things might be moving forward again. Soon, at least. Maybe not immediately.

I looked down at my phone and saw the shitload of text messages from Koz, calling me a pussy-whipped douchebag for wimping out on his party and leaving before it was over. There were a ton of missed calls and voice mails, too, probably all from him. For all I knew, the party was still going on, well after eight in the morning. I was way too hung over to deal with him right now.

Ignoring Koz for the time being, I dropped my phone on the nightstand, dragged myself out of bed, and climbed into the shower to wash off the stench of last night’s excess. By the time I was clean, dressed, and trying to replenish my body with water to ease my hangover, I remembered that Jonny intended to go to the police station with Cadence this morning.

Should I volunteer to go with them, too? I wasn’t sure. I’d done my best to make it clear to her how I wanted things to go between us, that I wanted us to be more than the friends we’d agreed upon, and sooner rather than later, but did that put me in the go-to-the-cops camp? Might be too big of a jump.

Even though it ate at me to do so, I decided to let Jonny and Cadence handle this one on their own. I should stay out of it. If the police needed me for anything, I was easy enough to find.

The team had the day off. Since Koz and most of the single guys were hopefully sleeping last night off, they wouldn’t be up and about any time soon. If I didn’t start moving, I’d probably end up back in bed the whole day, burying my head under the covers to pretend drinking so much last night hadn’t happened.

It had happened. In a devastated stupor, I’d allowed myself to get more wasted in a single night than I ever had before. No point in trying to hide from it. Besides, while parts of the night were all kinds of fucked up, other very good things had come from it.

With nothing better striking me, I called for a cab to take me over to my brother’s house. My car was still at Koz’s, and I was fairly sure Ghost still had my keys. I’d talk Jamie into helping me deal with all of that later. Didn’t bother texting or calling first. Even if he had gone to the gym or something else equally responsible, I was sure Katie would be at home. She had turned one of the extra bedrooms into a recording studio, and most days she was in there working on her budding songwriting career.

The cabbie dropped me off in front of their house. I paid him and got out. Rang the doorbell.

Jamie answered wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His cat, Blackbeard, was draped around his neck and shoulders. He gave me a disgusted look—Jamie did, not Blackbeard, although that cat was always suspicious of me. Still, I guessed my shower hadn’t done enough to hide all of last night’s excesses.

“You look like death warmed over,” Jamie said.

“Not sure how warm I got it.”

“A cold shower might do you some good. Hell, any shower might help.”

“Already had one.”

He looked doubtful, but he stepped back to let me inside. Katie’s cat, Oreo, raced in to wind himself around my legs. Oreo had always liked me a lot better than Blackbeard did. Granted, Oreo liked anyone who would scratch behind his ears.

“You have breakfast yet?”

My stomach gurgled in response.

“Never mind. I don’t want you puking on anything.” He led me into the kitchen, where he was busy putting together something involving eggs in muffin tins. He finished adding all his ingredients and popped it in the toaster oven, Blackbeard supervising everything from his shoulder perch. “Coffee? Think you can handle that?”

I shook my head and took a seat at the breakfast bar. “Water would be better.”

Oreo jumped up onto my lap and purred, so I scratched behind his ears like he always wanted.

Jamie grabbed a glass and filled it from the fridge before sliding it over to me. “How late did you stay at Koz’s last night?”

“Late enough. Got wasted. Then I got the bright idea to go keep Nicky company at the hospital.”

Jamie raised a brow.

“Took a cab. But I didn’t spend too much time with him. He was busy with Jessica in the delivery room.”

“So what’d you do all night? Hang out with the kids?”

“While I was drunk?” I raised a brow. “They were sleeping by the time I arrived. Jonny and Cadence were there.”

Katie came around the corner wearing a towel, her hair wet and dripping. She took one look at me, blushed, winked, readjusted her towel to keep it in place, and left again before Jamie murdered me for seeing his wife in such a state. Like it was my fault! Haha.

My brother pretended he hadn’t noticed. Bunch of horseshit.

“What’s going on with you two?” I asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from me.

Jamie made a face, like he didn’t want to talk about it.

“That doesn’t look good.”

“It’s just… Katie wants to have a baby. We’re trying to get pregnant, but…”

“But no luck so far.” And there very well might not ever be. Twice already, Katie had gone through chemotherapy and radiation to treat different forms of cancer. “You both knew kids might not be possible.”

“We did.” He shrugged. “We do. She still wants them, though.”

“What about adoption?”

“That’s what I suggested, but she wants to keep trying for a while first. I doubt if she’ll give up until they tell us she can’t have kids, you know?”

“And you’re taking that all on yourself, aren’t you?”

He and I were a lot alike in some ways. Too much alike.

“Maybe.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and joined me, giving Oreo a tail tug for good measure. “So…Cadence? How’s that going?”

“Could be better,” I replied. “Could be worse. About to be complicated.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” But I wasn’t ready to tell him or anyone else about the son of a bitch who was trying to fuck with her life.

“Good complicated or bad complicated?”

“Just complicated.”

“Okay.” He took a sip and stared at his cup the same way I was staring at my glass of water. Times like this, it was unnerving how similar we were, even though there were countless differences. This must be another Babcock trait. Now that I thought about it, I recalled a lot of times I’d seen Dad in this same posture. Scary thought.

“For what it’s worth,” Jamie said, “I hope you two are able to uncomplicate things before too much time passes.”

“Why’s that?”

He waited until I looked at him, then he grinned. “I don’t know if it’s all the time you’ve been with her, or if something else has gotten into you, but you’re finally starting to play like I’ve always realized you’re capable of. You’re not beating yourself up constantly. You’re finding your footing. You’re regaining your confidence. So if Cadence Johnson has anything to do with that, I hope it continues for a hell of a long time.”

All at once, Katie came back in with clothes on, the timer on the toaster oven dinged, and Oreo nipped my finger because I had stopped petting him. I sucked in a sharp breath, even though it hadn’t hurt, and thanked the powers that be for saving me the need to respond right away. Because there was no fucking way I could come up with a reasonable response. Not yet.

“Morning,” Katie said, beaming at me. She planted a smack on my cheek and stole Jamie’s mug of coffee since he was busy dealing with taking breakfast out of the oven. “Didn’t expect you up so early.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted.

“Any idea what’s up with Harry?” Jamie asked me as he slid the omelet muffin things onto plates for himself and Katie.

I raised a brow. “Harry? He had big plans. Didn’t come to Koz’s party. Why?”

“What kind of big plans?”

“No clue. Better than strippers. That’s all he said.”

Katie snorted and took a sip.

“Hmm…” Jamie fixed himself another cup of coffee, since Katie didn’t seem inclined to return the one she’d stolen.

“What’s up?” I asked, curiosity stoking my appetite enough that I reached for one of the forks in Jamie’s hand and cut myself a bite.

“Not sure. I had my phone off all night. Woke up to some weird voice mails from him.”

“Weird how?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

If it was nothing, my brother never would have mentioned it. And I had never bothered to listen to all the voice mails on my phone. I’d assumed they were Koz bitching me out about leaving as early as I had, but I’d never confirmed my assumptions. They could have been Harry. I dug my phone out of my pocket and looked at the missed call log. Eight of them, all from the same unfamiliar number. “What did he say in the messages? And how many?”

“Only that he needed someone sober and awake to help him out. Wouldn’t say what it was about. I called his phone this morning, but he didn’t answer.”

I held my phone out to him. “Was it from this number?”

He nodded and raised a brow. “He called you, too, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“I hope he got the help he needed.”

So did I. And now, I felt like a shitty friend.

Katie’s phone buzzed with a text message. She took a moment to read it, then glanced up at the two of us with surprise making her eyes wide. “He got help. Dad just bailed him out of jail.”

CADENCE

HARRY AND ONE of the team’s coaches were on their way out of the courthouse across the street from the police station Cam and I were heading into. Cam slowed and called out to them.

“So Webs got you all sorted out?”

Harry nodded and ducked his head. With the way Webs was glaring at him, I didn’t blame him. They went on their way, and we went on ours.

Three hours later, Cam and I left the police station with an emergency protective order against Guy, the promise that they’d serve him notice, and a court date in two weeks to have it finalized.

“Doesn’t this seem like a bit much to you?” I asked Cam as we climbed back into his truck to head home.

My brother gave me one of his patented you’ve-got-to-be-shitting-me looks and backed out of his parking spot.

We’d listed Cam, Sara, and the kids on the order, as well as the address for the house, the rink, and even the Moda Center, since they were all places I tended to spend a lot of time. When the officer had asked about a significant other, I’d hesitated for a moment. Cam had cut in and given Levi’s name.

It had been eating me alive ever since.

“Why did you tell them Levi is my significant other?”

“That son of a bitch threatened him, too, didn’t he?”

I supposed that was a fair point, but that didn’t make Levi my significant other. He might want to be, but that didn’t mean he was. After that, I bit my tongue the rest of the way home.

When we got there, Cam gave Sara a copy of the protective order and put another on the fridge. “Be sure you’ve always got that with you,” he said. Then he picked up Connor and stalked off to the backyard with Buster yapping and chasing after them.

Once they were gone, it was only the two of us. Sara went into the kitchen to clean up from Connor’s snack, so I followed to help her out.

“Cassidy’s sleeping?” I asked.

“Mm hmm.” She shoved a couple of plastic bowls into the dishwasher rack with more force than necessary.

She was mad at me. And she had a right to be mad, in all honesty. I’d made her promise to keep a secret from my brother, and it had turned out to be a much bigger, more harmful secret than I’d anticipated. He’d barely said a word to either one of us today. I’d had to fill Sara in on what had gone down at the hospital this morning, before we’d left for the police station.

I took a rag from the sink to wipe down the table. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should never have asked you to—”

“You had every right to ask me for a favor. Don’t go there, Cadence. You and Chloe and Corinne—you’re always telling me I’m one of your sisters now, right? And that’s something sisters do. They help each other out.”

“But it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Bullshit.” She slammed one of Cassidy’s sippy cups into the rack. “You asked. It was on me whether I should keep your secret or tell him. If he’s pissed at me for keeping your confidence, that’s between the two of us. It’s not anything for you to worry about. Cam and I are going to have to sort this out on our own. Once he’ll listen.”

Only that meant I was between the two of them. Almost literally. They weren’t speaking, and it was all because of my stupidity. How could I possibly do anything but worry?

I finished helping her clean up, but then I had to prepare myself for practice. Anthony and I had an afternoon session scheduled. Maybe it would help me take my mind off everything else that had gone on in the last twenty-four hours. That was my hope.

As I should have expected, my hope was in vain. Now that I’d gotten a restraining order against Guy, I needed to explain the whole shebang to both Anthony and Ellen. That had taken up a good half of our ice time. We spent the other half eating ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s, because I was an exhausted, emotional wreck, and I was supposed to give Sophie her first figure skating lesson after she got out of school.

Anthony took another bite of Cherry Garcia. “So if he shows up at the rink again, I’m allowed to call the cops and have his ass arrested, right?”

I laughed for the first time in way too long. “Yeah. Something like that, at least.”

“You don’t think he’ll try that, though, do you?” Ellen asked. “I mean, not once they’ve served him with the papers.”

I didn’t want to think so, but Guy had proven time and again that he’d do the unexpected. “Let’s hope not,” I said. “It’ll be much easier if he simply respects the court order and stays away. Maybe he’ll go back home.”

“Doubt it. I don’t think he’s that type.” Anthony stole a bite of my Chunky Monkey.

I swatted his hand away. “If Jesse finds out you’re having ice cream without him…”

“He’ll what?” He raised a brow. “Buy more. That’s what he’ll do. I promise.”

“And do you really need any more after this?”

“You can never have too much ice cream on a crappy day. That’s Jesse’s motto.”

Ellen winked at me. “It’s a good one.”

I chuckled and took another bite before Anthony stole too much out of my bowl. Seemed like a good enough motto to live by for the moment.

After we finished, I promised them both I’d be very careful and take care of myself, that I’d report anything Guy did as soon as possible, and that I’d buy some pepper spray to carry around with me. This morning, Cam had already made me promise I’d let him teach me some kickboxing type of stuff for self-defense, but I figured pepper spray would be another tool in my arsenal. With the way they were all acting, the police officers I’d spoken to this morning included, I was starting to realize exactly how dangerous this could become.

It all added up to leaving me feeling like I was too stupid to live. Maybe I had been, but I couldn’t afford to be any longer. I had to stop thinking Guy was harmless. I had to stop believing he would never do anything to hurt me, or anyone else. The absolute opposite was the truth, and there was no room for me to believe my own lies.

I headed back to the rink. Even though I was early, Sophie and Bergy were there ahead of me.

So was Levi. He was kneeling down on the floor in front of Sophie to help her lace up her skates, and he flashed a grin in my direction as soon as I came through the doors.

I waved at them, but Bergy headed me off before I joined them.

“Your brother filled me in on everything that’s going on,” he said, getting straight to the point. “I’ve already talked to the security guys here, and they’ve assured me they won’t let the bastard in. I thought I’d stay for Sophie’s lesson, though. Just in case.”

I blinked and nodded, but it was quickly becoming apparent that the rest of the world was far more in touch with the danger of my present situation than I was. “You’re…you’re not rethinking this, then? You aren’t worried—”

“I’m worried about you,” he cut in, giving me a pointed look. “Jonny’s been part of the Storm long enough that you should understand we’re not only a team. We’re a family. And that means his family is part of our family. And it means that 501’s girlfriend is part of our family. We take care of our own. You should start getting used to that, especially since you’re living here now.”

What came out of my mouth then was the silliest, most superficial thing I could possibly say: “I’m not Levi’s girlfriend.”

Bergy cocked a grin in my direction, and he chuckled. “All right. Whatever you say. You’re still part of the family because of your brother, so you’re stuck with us. Everyone in the Storm organization is on your side. Whether you like it or not. Besides, Sophie has decided to adopt you.”

“Adopt me?” At first, I thought he was being facetious, and I laughed.

“That’s what she told me. She said she’s 501’s best girlfriend, but you can be his other best girlfriend. And then she asked me to adopt you.”

That was enough to wipe all the negativity of the last twenty-four hours straight out of me. This little girl might as well be a magician, the way she warmed me through from head to toe. No wonder Levi doted on her.

I took a seat next to Sophie on the bench to lace up my skates. Levi sat on her other side and drew his skates out of his gym bag. Only they weren’t hockey skates. They were figure skates. I’d thought he was only here to support Sophie, or maybe because he was as worried for my safety as Bergy was after all I’d told him last night. I hadn’t expected that I’d truly be teaching both of them today. Hadn’t that only been to play along with Sophie’s idea? Wasn’t it something meant to mollify her for the time being, and then cooler heads would prevail? There was no reason he couldn’t come out there in his hockey skates. It wasn’t like he would be doing spirals or jumps.

Levi caught my eye and winked. “Sophie told Bergy we both needed figure skates. Now we’ve got them. You ready for this?”

Not even close, but today was turning into a day I wouldn’t soon forget.

TWO HOURS LATER, Sophie and Bergy were on their way out of the rink—Sophie beaming like I’d just given her a puppy—and Levi was waiting by the door to walk me out.

“My ankles feel all wobbly in those things,” he said.

“Maybe you need to work on your ankle strength,” I said, winking. “Do your trainers have any workouts designed specifically for that?”

“I’m sure I can find something.”

He took my gym bag from me and carried it, along with his own, over his shoulder. We headed outside, prepared to be blinded by the late afternoon sun, but instead we were greeted by gloomy gray clouds.

Levi stared up at the sky as we crossed the parking lot. “Might have some snow tonight.”

“I’m still not used to living where there isn’t snow all winter long.”

“Yeah.” He grinned at me. “It’s nice to not have to shovel the car out every morning, though.”

I laughed and pressed the button on my key fob to unlock my car. When I looked up, though, I nearly fell over. Stopped cold. Guy was halfway across the lot, standing out in the middle of the aisle with his arms crossed. His all-too-familiar silver Honda Civic was parked a few feet behind him. After a moment, he waved and blew a kiss in my direction.

Levi stopped beside me, his hand settling on my waist. “What do you want to bet that’s exactly how many feet he has to stay away from the building?” he murmured in my ear.

I was too stunned and too scared to move. All I could do was stare. Was this all to intimidate me? It was working. I had never felt so much fear in my life. My blood was ice, and I couldn’t swallow.

But Levi nudged me toward his car. “Lock your doors again,” he said once my feet were moving. “I’m driving you home. Jonny and I can come back later to pick up your car.”

I pressed the button and watched the brake lights flash. Then Levi held the car door open for me and I sat. I wasn’t sure if I could breathe again until he parked in Cam’s driveway and helped me go inside.

Cam and Sara were both on the floor in the living room playing with the kids. Everyone was smiling, so that was a definite improvement. Maybe Cam had gotten over it and forgiven Sara, finally.

He jumped to his feet as soon as Levi and I came through the door, though. “What? What happened? You look white as a sheet.”

“Guy was in the parking lot when we were leaving the rink,” I forced out. Then, after a moment to let it all sink in, I added, “I think we should call the police.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LEVI

I WAS STILL at Jonny’s house hours later. They’d invited me to stay for dinner after Cadence and I had given our report to the officer who’d come to the house. Even if they hadn’t, I might have invited myself. The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from Cadence right now. The way I saw it, the more people she had around her, the better.

Yeah, the officer said they were going to immediately send someone to talk to Guy again. That said, the emergency order hadn’t stopped him from showing up at the rink, so I doubted another visit from the cops would do anything to deter him. Not unless they were putting him in cuffs and taking him to jail. Didn’t sound like that was going to happen, though. Apparently, waving and blowing a kiss from a distance wasn’t quite enough.

It was entirely possible I didn’t want to leave more for me than for Cadence. To calm my own nerves. Seeing how pale Cadence had gone the instant she’d realized the bastard was standing there had left me shaken and unnerved. I needed to be near her. To assure myself that she was safe.

But now, the kids had been put in bed and it was late enough I ought to go home. Especially after the debacle of last night. We had morning skate early tomorrow, followed by a game, and I needed to be rested and in top form.

Jonny’s line of thought must’ve been headed in the same direction, because he stretched and yawned, glancing over at Sara. “Ready to call it a night?”

“You have no idea.” She glanced over at me and Cadence with bloodshot eyes. “Get all your late nights in while you don’t have kids. Everything changes once you do. It’s like someone flips a switch and you go from twenty-five to eighty, just like that.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

“I don’t think we’re planning on having kids any time soon,” I said without thinking.

The glare Jonny shot in my direction was enough to melt my bones.

Cadence stifled a snicker.

“You’d fucking better not be planning on making babies with my sister any time soon,” Jonny growled. “Not if you plan on ever being able to make more of them. We’re heading to Florida next week, you know. Lots of gators down there.” But then he took Sara’s hand and led her toward the stairs. “Be sure you lock up when he’s gone,” he said to Cadence.

Then Sara winked at me as they disappeared.

“You’re probably exhausted, too,” I said once we were alone.

“Yeah. It’s been one heck of a day.”

“So I should go?” I wasn’t sure why it came out as a question, but I said it again with much more certainty. “I should. Go, I mean. I should go home.” Okay, maybe there still wasn’t a lot of certainty in it. In fact, I was still hoping she would want me to stick around for a bit longer.

“You don’t have to. Not yet, at least.”

“No?”

“No.” She met my eyes. Hers had been all sorts of colors all afternoon and evening, mainly in the dark and intense brown realm since the incident with Guy. But now they were lightening. Shifting into something softer and almost green.

I remembered that night at the diner after the concert. They’d been green a lot that night. When she’d been relaxed with me. Not on her guard. They’d been golden during most of Sophie’s skating lessons, with hints of green peeking out every now and then.

But now? They were as green as I’d ever seen them, kind of like moss.

We were both sitting on the couch, but there was still a big gap between us where Connor had been. For the longest time following his bath, he’d stretched out between us, his head on Cadence’s lap and his feet bopping me in the nuts in time to the song he was singing about agilators. Wearing nothing but his Spider-Man Underoos, of course, because what else should a four-year-old wear at any point in the day? I hadn’t been sure if Jonny had orchestrated it or if it had been Connor’s idea, but it had very effectively kept me from trying to snake my arm around Cadence’s shoulders or her waist, to draw her closer to me.

Now that we were alone, it was all I could think of, though. Touching her. Being close to her. Holding her and breathing in her scent.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said.

I shook my head, baffled. “For what?”

“For thinking clearly this afternoon. For putting me in your car and driving me home, since my head had gone blank and I didn’t know what to do.”

“All I wanted was to take you away from that son of a bitch as soon as possible,” I said. The thought of what might have happened if she’d been alone had been racing through my head ever since. Would he have tried to talk to her? To grab her? What if he’d had a weapon of some sort? The way I saw it—the way Cadence had reacted to his presence—the asshole didn’t need a weapon. Simply showing up and surprising her was all it took. It left her shaken, terrified, unable to act.

She gave me a shy smile and ducked her head. “I’m just glad you were there.” Then, before I was prepared for it, she reached across the empty space between us and took my hand. Hers was tiny, barely bigger than her nephew’s, it seemed. Almost fragile. She twined her delicate fingers through mine, and my pulse jackhammered out of control.

This was the first time she’d been the one to make a move. Every other time, it had been me.

“I’m glad I was there, too,” I said, trying to keep the words steady, despite the fact that all my nerve endings were going haywire. I rubbed my thumb over the back of her hand, and she tugged. Not away, though. She drew me closer to her by an inch or so, which seriously set me into overdrive. “I always want to be with you.”

“I know you do.”

There was something odd in the way she said it. Something that left me wondering what was coming next.

Cadence bit her lower lip, but she still didn’t try to take her hand out of mine. “I’m sorry I tried to push you away, too.”

“You are?”

“I am. Because it was the exact opposite of what I should have done. I realize that now.”

All the hyperactivity going on in my body slowed to a trickle. I was fairly certain I knew where she was headed with this, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I needed to hear the words straight from her mouth. I needed it as much as I needed air.

“You do?” I said. “And what do you think you should have done instead?”

She started to shrug but stopped herself, visibly forcing her shoulders down. “I should have run to you, not away from you. I should have recognized that you’re nothing at all like Guy, at least not in any of the ways that matter. I should have figured out that instead of pushing, you were letting me take things at my own pace. You were already giving me time. Giving me space. Letting me figure it all out on my own, even when I was being an idiot.”

She inched closer to me, closing the space between us. Then she took my hand and lifted my arm up and over her, wrapping it around her shoulders. She burrowed into my side, letting her head drop back onto my ribs. If she were taller, she might fit against my shoulder. This felt right, though. It felt so damned right I thought I might burst.

“Cadence?” I asked, hesitant because I didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“Hmm?”

“What does all this mean?”

“All this?” She lifted her head away from me for a moment, and I thought I’d gone and fucked everything up. I should have kept my mouth shut.

But I hadn’t, so now I had to fix it. “This,” I said, using my free hand to gesture toward the way she was snuggled up to my side. “What’s happening here? Because to me, this feels like more than something we’d do if we were still only friends, like we agreed.” A hell of a lot more, actually. I’d been very careful all along to keep my hands to myself. To avoid touching her even though it was one of the few things I was capable of thinking about when we were together.

Gradually, she nestled against me again. Then she lifted her chin to stare at me. Her eyes weren’t moss green anymore. They were dark green with golden flecks making them appear to be on fire. Alive. There was so much life and energy flowing through them it floored me. Bedroom eyes—that was how I’d thought of them before. And that was definitely what they made me think of now. She was back to being the sex goddess of my dreams.

“You still want this to be more?” she asked. Slowly, but not like she was afraid of my answer.

“More than I could ever put into words.”

“Then maybe we should be more than just friends.”

Addictive warmth shot straight out of my belly and spread through to all my limbs in no time. “Like what? Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Because Lord knew, I was a hell of a lot more than ready for that.

She bit that lower lip again, and my eyes were glued to that spot. I wanted to taste her there. If I had to guess, I’d think she tasted like fire, too.

“I think so.”

Fuck me, that wasn’t good enough. “You only think so?” Talk about a guy deflating like a flat tire.

But she smiled, and it lit up the entire room. A real smile. Not one of her fake, forced ones. It was like she was coming alive in front of me. Before I had an inkling of what to expect, she put a hand on my jaw and turned my face toward her. And then her lips were on mine.

They were like molten silk, heated and smooth and so fucking perfect. I breathed in the scent of her, clean and feminine, and held it deep in my lungs so long I might have passed out if not for her gliding her tongue along the seam of my lips, begging entry.

She tasted like sweet cinnamon candy. I wanted to devour her, but I forced myself to hold back. To accept what she was giving instead of taking what I wanted.

She twisted and tucked one leg underneath her. Almost greedily, she moved her hand behind my head and dragged me down. Down. Down still some more until I had to brace my arms on either side of her to avoid crushing her. She wrapped her thighs around my waist and tugged me closer, like she wanted to be crushed.

“Not so fast,” I murmured against her lips. Not that I wanted to stop what was happening—I’d have to be a crazy man in order to avoid reveling in the sensation of having her beneath me, writhing against me—but this was taking things from one extreme to the other.

Cadence dug her fingers into my hair. “But I want—”

“Not so fast,” I repeated. I pushed myself up to keep from continuing. “You’ve had a lot happen in the last couple of days. The last thing you need to do is jump into something without thinking it through.”

“I have been thinking it through, though.”

“I know. But one day we’re only friends, then the next you need space and can’t even be friends with me, and now you’re mauling me on your brother’s couch with his kids sleeping upstairs. Not that I mind being mauled.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “I actually like it way too much. But I still think it’s better if we take things one step at a time like we were before.”

She pouted. It looked so damned cute I wanted to nip her nose.

“Fine,” she said. “You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right.” I had to be. Otherwise, why the hell would every nerve ending in my body be screaming that I was wrong, that I should ignore all that shit? There was a part of me that wanted to carry her out to my car and take her home with me, and screw the rest. But I was smart enough to recognize that part of me was behaving like a fucking idiot.

“Don’t get used to me agreeing with you, though,” she said.

I chuckled and climbed off her—reluctantly as all hell, but it had to be done. Otherwise, I’d be the one doing the mauling. “I should probably head home. Come on and lock the door behind me.” I grabbed my coat from the hall closet. When I turned around, she was standing there, her lips puffy and swollen and pink, which made it incredibly difficult to keep myself from pushing her back up against the door and kissing her again.

Instead, I opened the door. The snow I’d expected earlier had apparently been falling for a while. There was a thick blanket of the stuff all over my car that I’d have to clear off before I could leave.

“Let me grab my coat,” Cadence said. “I’ll help.”

I started the car and put the defrost on high to help things along. With the two of us working, it didn’t take us too long to clear the snow away. At least it was still soft and not packed down like it would be by morning. When I took the scraper from her, I couldn’t resist drawing her in for another kiss—one that warmed me up in no time.

Breaking away from her wasn’t easy. “Go back inside and lock the door. Get warm.”

“I am warm,” she said. “With you.”

I pecked her on her nose. It was as cold as the snow. “Liar.”

She grinned and ducked her head against my chest, drawing me into an embrace. “’Night,” she said.

“’Night.”

But she didn’t move.

“You need to go in, you know.”

“I do. But it feels too good to be standing here like this. With you.”

I forced myself to nudge her toward the door. When she got to the top of the porch, she turned around and waved at me. Then I got in the car and waited until she was inside and the porch light went out before backing out of the driveway.

Moments later, as I turned from their street to another, I could have sworn I saw a man sitting in a car that wasn’t running. Just sitting there. Not doing anything.

Once I was past it, I glanced in my rearview mirror. The street lights illuminated it enough that I could tell there wasn’t anyone in that car.

Must have been my imagination.

CADENCE

MY HEAD HAD never been filled with such a jumble of things at once. I was scared out of my mind about Guy and what he might do, excited and a little nervous about the relationship I was building with Levi, energized by the progress Anthony and I were making, fulfilled from being able to put my skills and training to use in order to teach Sophie, and gutted that I’d come between my brother and sister-in-law—even if they seemed to be getting back on track now. On top of all that, I missed Mom and my sisters like crazy, and I felt like an absolute idiot for not speaking up about everything that had been happening with Guy, going back for years, when he’d first started treating me like garbage.

Yeah, I’d been young and stupid. Maybe I still was. But that didn’t mean I had to stay that way.

Cam took me to the gym up at the Storm’s practice facility with him early the morning after my first lesson with Sophie. Well, technically it had been the first lesson with Sophie and Levi, but I’d promised Levi my lips were sealed about that, at least when it came to being around his teammates. Yep, one more secret to keep from my brother, but at least this one didn’t have anything to do with my safety. Those days were over.

The team had to be at the Moda Center for morning skate at ten, but Cam said there was no time like the present to work on self-defense, especially since the team was leaving for a road trip in a couple of days. “I used to work with Dana Zellinger on this stuff,” he said, tossing me some sparring gloves before putting those boxing pad target things on his hands. “You can start working with me, and maybe take some kickboxing or Krav Maga classes when we’re out on the road.”

“Krav Maga?” I asked.

“It’s a kind of self-defense they started up in Israel, I think. For their special forces guys. It’s what they’re encouraging women who’ve been victims of assault to learn to take care of themselves.”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. I nodded and focused in on the instruction he was giving me. We’d been at it for about twenty minutes when he got frustrated with me. I was becoming frustrated with myself, too, come to think of it.

“Harder, Cadence. You’ve got to put all your force behind it. Try to hurt me.”

“I am putting all my force into it.” I huffed, and it blew my hair out of my face. I stripped the gloves off and adjusted my ponytail holder, mainly to buy some time to catch my breath. Cam had been working me hard, and none of this was familiar to me.

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m all of five foot nothing and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. I seriously doubt I can do anything that will hurt you.”

“Get him with an uppercut under his jaw,” said someone with a deep voice. “While he’s distracted, knee him in the nuts. That’ll hurt him.”

I spun around to see who it was.

Chris Hammond winked at me. “It’ll work every time.”

“But I don’t want to kick my brother in the…” I couldn’t even finish the thought. That was just plain wrong. It was on par with thinking about Cam and Sara’s sex life. It belonged squarely in the do-not-go-there department.

“That much is clear enough.” He came in closer, letting the door swing closed behind him. “Right now, he’s not your brother. He’s the son of a bitch who’s trying to attack you. So you distract him with an uppercut, knee him in the nuts, and then you escape.”

“But…”

“Here.” He reached for the hand targets Cam had been using and put them on himself once my brother relinquished them. “Do it to me instead.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can,” Cam said. “If you hurt him, Hammer and I can sort it out later.” He waited a moment, then crossed his arms. “Pretend he’s Guy.”

“But he’s not Guy.” It was a great idea, in theory. I wasn’t sure how great it was in actuality. I didn’t think I could ever do the things they wanted me to do to anyone. Maybe not even the real Guy.

“Oh, I’m not?” Hammer lunged toward me, tossing the targets away. He grabbed at my waist with one arm and put the other hand over my mouth.

My brain went straight to panic mode. I screamed for Cam to help, but my voice was smothered in Hammer’s hand. In seconds, he was dragging me across the room, no matter how much I flailed.

I kicked anything I could connect with, preferably something soft. But Cam still didn’t come to my rescue. Was this a test? Were they trying to prove something to me? Must be. My brother wouldn’t allow anyone to attack me while he was standing by and watching. I tried to calm down enough to remember what he’d told me to do. Distract him with something and then kick him in the nuts.

With the way he was holding me, I couldn’t punch him under the jaw like he’d suggested, but I could sure as hell bite his hand. So I did. Hard.

Hammer shouted and ripped his hand away from me.

As soon as possible, I twisted around and kneed him.

He released me, holding both hands to his groin as he stepped back. I collapsed to the floor, thoroughly spent and sucking in air.

But then he laughed, and he winked at me again. “See? I knew you could do it.”

Cam came over and helped me to my feet. “You okay?”

I nodded, trying to reassure him. But then I thought better of it and punched him as hard as I could in the stomach.

“Oof! What was that for?”

“Heavy-handed tactics,” I said, and Hammer only laughed harder.

“At least we know she can do it,” Hammer said, as I stalked out of the gym.

“YOU SHOULD’VE PUNCHED him in the nose,” Anthony said later, when I filled him in about everything that had happened since yesterday’s non-practice. Ellen had a family emergency to see to, so we were on our own today. Whether we’d been partners for long or not, the two of us both knew exactly what we needed to work on, so it wasn’t the end of the world for us to have a practice without our coach every now and then.

The bigger problem for the two of us was simply staying on task.

Now was a prime example of that. We should be working on our combined spins or our split twist. Instead, we were shooting the breeze. Yes, I needed to be sure he stayed abreast of the situation, but that didn’t mean we should waste our ice time.

Yet that was exactly what we were doing.

“My arms are too short,” I explained. “I can’t reach Cam’s nose to punch him there.”

He grinned at me. “Good point.” Then he skated over next to me and stretched my right arm as high as it would go.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Measuring to be sure you can’t reach mine.”

I punched him in the belly with my free hand, for good measure, although not hard enough to do any damage.

He laughed and skated away, so I’d have to chase him if I wanted to cause him any true pain. He was as bad as Cam, only in his own way.

“You need to hit harder,” he called out over his shoulder.

“You need to work on your abs,” I shot back. “They’re soft.”

Anthony chuckled. “Your man wasn’t there to help with the lessons?”

I couldn’t stop myself from blushing. Good thing he wasn’t looking. “What do you mean, my man?” I started skating until we were doing spirals across from each other.

He automatically mimicked my posture, trying to match me. Yes, we were talking and teasing each other. That didn’t mean practice was over, especially since we’d completely bailed out yesterday.

“Levi Babcock,” he said, dry as ever. “Who else would I be talking about?”

“He was probably sleeping. It was earlier than the butt crack of dawn.” I intentionally avoided saying anything about whether he was my man or not, or how it made me feel. Since I hadn’t sorted out my thoughts on the matter, I definitely didn’t need to be talking to Anthony about it. Or anyone else. No one but maybe Levi.

“Was he up late with you last night? Is that why you’re blushing?”

Now I blushed even harder, which didn’t help matters any.

“Give me details. I need to know everything so I can fill Jesse in later. He’ll eat this up.”

“There’s nothing for him to eat up.”

“There is. You said he stayed after the cops left. Was he still there for dinner? Maybe you played footsie under the table?”

“Footsie?” I rolled my eyes. “What, are we twelve?”

“So it was better than footsie. Please tell me you made out.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” But the fierce heat in my cheeks was probably all he needed to know.

“Mm hmm,” he said.

The longer we were out there, the closer together we moved on the ice. In no time, we were touching again. Anthony took me into a hold, and we started spinning, gradually shifting positions to experiment with what worked well for the ways we each moved.

I lifted a foot, stretched my head and arms back, and let Anthony’s momentum spin me at high speed.

“For as tiny as you are, you get some incredible extension like that,” he said. “You’re like a cat. Weird spine or something. How do you do that?”

“Lots of stretching,” I said when we slowed to a stop. “Maybe you should try it.”

“Maybe.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “You think Jesse’ll like it as much as your man does?”

“He’s not my man.”

“Whatever. You keep telling yourself that, honey.”

“I will,” I said, laughing. “At least for as long as you two are just fiancés. If you finally set a date, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

“Is that all it’ll take?” Anthony gave me a Cheshire-cat-worthy grin. “Nothing more than setting a date?”

Something told me I might have to eat my words. “Why? Don’t tell me you finally made plans.”

“Valentine’s Day. I was going to give you your invitation after practice. So…” He reached for my hand and pushed off, so we were skating side by side. “He’s your man. Give me deets to give my man.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as big as he did. “Fine. Be that way. There might have been some making out.”

“Only some?”

“Not enough,” I admitted. “He thinks we need to take it slow. Because of Guy and all.”

“I think,” he said slowly, “he might just be good enough for you. Even if he wasn’t helping you learn self-defense.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

LEVI

“SHOULD’VE PUT ON a cup first,” Harry said to Hammer, and half the guys in the room cracked up laughing.

Hammer included. “Maybe so. But at least she knows she can fucking knee a guy in the balls and it’ll work.”

“Which means 501 has officially been put on notice,” Harry said.

Another chorus of laughter and lighthearted ribbing followed that, and Jonny winked at me. He fucking winked. What the hell was that about? One of these days, I needed some time alone with him. Figure out where his head was. I knew where mine was, and I was almost positive he knew, too, but I hadn’t figured him out in terms of whether he intended to murder me the next time I fell asleep on the team plane or if he was on board with the relationship Cadence and I were building.

Hammer met my eyes once the rest of the guys quieted down and went back to preparing for tonight’s game against the Blackhawks. Winked at me, like maybe he was trying to reassure me.

I tossed him a roll of stick tape. “You’re a crazy motherfucker, you realize that?”

“Took a risk,” he replied.

It was all he needed to say, taking me back to his earlier advice for me. Take chances. Stick your neck out. Maybe take a risk or two. I nodded my understanding and finished tying my skates as Harry came to his stall beside mine and pulled on his pads.

I glanced around to be sure no one was paying us any attention. They weren’t. Everyone was busy doing his own thing to get ready for the game. Nicky was showing off the newest baby pictures of little Molly, and Ghost was telling stories about Koz’s party to anyone who’d listen—mainly telling stories about how shit-faced drunk most of us had been. He’d be aware, since he’d been the only sober guy of the bunch that night.

Then I turned back to Harry. “So what happened?” I asked, keeping my voice down.

He cast his eyes around the room before answering. “Nothing anyone needs to worry about. My lawyer’s sorting it all out.”

“You’re not in any trouble, are you? Because we can—”

“I’m fine,” he cut in. “It was only a misunderstanding. Not a big deal. Jim and the coaches know everything they need to know. My lawyer’s handling it. Shouldn’t slip out in the public, but if it does…”

“What kind of misunderstanding lands you in jail overnight?”

“I was at a party. Someone called the cops. Disturbing the peace, whatever the fuck that means. I don’t know. They ended up arresting everyone in the place, but I wasn’t part of the problem. I was…um…in the back. I wasn’t around where they were being loud and giving the cops problems. Didn’t know what was going on until they busted into the back and arrested us all.”

I raised a brow. “Sounds like your party was even more out of hand than Koz’s.” I wasn’t convinced that meant it was absolutely better than strippers, though. No one at Koz’s party ended up in jail.

“Never mind all that. Let’s get out there and beat these fuckers.”

GETTING OUT THERE and beating those fuckers was exactly what we did, too. The Blackhawks were perennial Stanley Cup favorites these days, one of the teams that ended up on the preseason lists of who was most likely to win. We were on those lists, too, these days. Especially after last season, when we’d come within a few games of accomplishing our goal.

Every guy in our locker room intended to make sure all those talking heads knew we belonged on those lists every bit as much as the Blackhawks, and this game would go a hell of a long way toward accomplishing that goal.

We beat them two to nothing. Nicky came away with the shutout, despite facing forty-seven shots. And that only accounted for the shots that got through to him. Apparently fatherhood agreed with him. The whole team was black and blue after the game from all the shots we blocked, Harry and me in particular. Ghost scored both goals. Koz got a crazy hair and decided to fight Shaw in the third; he came away bloody, but not as bloody as the other guy. Jamie had hit every Blackhawk he could line up, playing like a human battering ram all night. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t scored. He’d done everything possible to prevent the other team from landing on the scoresheet and had dug his way under their skin with his physicality.

In the end, it was a statement game, and maybe our best game all season long. We had served notice to the Blackhawks and the rest of the league that we meant business—and that if anyone but us was going to win the Cup, they were going to have to go through us.

It felt amazing.

We headed back to the room in high spirits, with “Uptown Funk,” our celebration song for the season, blaring from RJ’s iPod and speakers. Winning games like this one always seemed to make aches and pains hurt a lot less.

I stripped off my jersey and tossed it in the laundry bin as I danced my way to my stall. Harry held out a hand for everyone to fist-bump on our way past him. They all did, until Webs came into the room. Webs glowered at Harry like I’d never seen him glower before, but Harry didn’t even duck his head. He stared straight back at Webs, almost daring him to say something. What I wouldn’t give to find out what had really happened that night… Maybe I could get him drunk some night and see if he’d talk then. It was worth a shot.

Once everyone was in the room and changing, Bergy said a few words. He focused on how we’d stuck to our game plan, played a solid team game, and no one had shirked his responsibilities in either zone. It was a real team win, and an important two points.

Then Ghost stood and fished the obnoxious purple umbrella hat out of his locker. It was a stupid thing we awarded to the best player of the night each time we had a win. He’d gotten it last game, so it was his responsibility to decide who got it tonight. No chance he’d select himself, even if he’d scored both goals. That wasn’t how it worked.

I was all ready to go pat Nicky on the head again once he had this abomination on his melon, but then Ghost threw me for a loop.

“Hell of a win tonight, boys. And like Bergy said, it was a true team effort. Everyone chipped in and played their parts. Nicky held down the fort with a monster game in the net. But there’s someone I think deserves this tonight more than anyone else. We all know the boys on D have been playing above their heads all season long. Each of those guys is being asked to fill a role bigger than he’s ever filled before, and they’re kicking ass and taking names while they do it. But tonight, 501 blocked probably as many shots as the rest of the team combined. Every time I looked out there, he was dropping to the ice and absorbing rubber. Then he’d limp over to the bench, walk it off in the tunnel, and go right back out for his next shift. The guy never complained even though he’s probably purple from head to toe tonight. Not only that, but he and Harry did it while shutting down the Blackhawks’ top line, which is no small feat. So 501, this is for you.”

He crossed the room and placed that fucking thing on my head, then opened the umbrella top.

I looked like a fucking idiot. Didn’t need a mirror to realize that.

The rest of the boys hooted and hollered, and Hammer slapped me on the back. “Too many more nights like tonight, and those other guys are going to have a real fight on their hands to reclaim their spot on the top pairing.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wouldn’t deny it felt damn good to do something right. Not only that, but it was something I felt like I could do again and again. Maybe it wasn’t a one-time thing. Maybe I was starting to find my stride at the NHL level, finally.

It’d taken long enough.

I passed Ghost doing a post-game interview with Anne Dennison on my way up to the owner’s box. She was making googly eyes at him, and he was eating it up with the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. I had to fight down the urge to tell him they should get a room. They were on live TV. Not the right time for that.

Besides, I was hoping to collect Cadence and take her out somewhere. Not to do something of the get-a-room variety, although that thought had merit, and I hoped we were heading in that direction and would arrive sometime in the not-too-distant future. But for now, I simply wanted to be with her for a bit before we had to leave town again.

She looked up and smiled at me as soon as I came through the door, warming me all the way down to my perpetually cold toes. She’d been sitting with Katie again—no Dani, this time—but once she saw me she came over and rose onto her tiptoes to give me a peck on my chin.

It wasn’t quite the kiss I wanted from her, but at this point in our relationship I’d take whatever she’d give me. Pecks on the chin were still a hell of a lot better than being only friends.

I took her hand and led her into a quieter part of the room to give us some semblance of privacy. Not that I was deluding myself. No doubt every ear in that room would be on high alert, trying to figure out what was going on between us. Sometimes it seemed like that was all the Storm WAGs did all the time—try to hook up all the single guys. Hell, they’d gone above and beyond their usual level of interference at Christmas with the general manager, going behind his back to set up a profile for him on a dating website. It had all worked out in the end, but that was a ballsy move if ever I’d seen one. These women could be relentless when it came to being sure every guy involved with the team ended up just as happy and settled as they were, preferably with a boatload of babies on the way sooner rather than later.

If all went according to plan, though, they wouldn’t need to interfere with what Cadence and I had going. We were managing just fine on our own, thanks. Not that anything would keep these women out of it if they thought they might need to help. They hadn’t ganged up on me yet, but something like that could happen at any time, whether their interference was necessary or not.

Cadence wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her cheek on my chest. “You had a good game tonight,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my suit.

“You noticed? I thought I was nothing more than a guy on your brother’s team,” I teased.

“You are a guy on my brother’s team. But you’re also…” She shook her head and burrowed closer.

The sensation of having her pressed up against me like that was too much. Despite the layers of clothes between us, I felt every curve of her body. The soft mounds of her breasts and the hard peaks of her tits. The gentle slope of her waist and the smooth flare of her hips. My thoughts were heading south, fast. Needed to redirect my thoughts.

“Also what?” I prompted.

She shrugged. “According to Anthony, you’re also my man.”

There wasn’t any point in trying to stop myself from grinning. “What do you have to say about that? Am I your man?” Because I sure as hell wanted to be.

“I don’t know. What would that mean?”

“Well, to start, it’d mean I can kiss you. And hold you, like this. Maybe take you out sometimes.”

“So basically like before but with kissing and all that other yucky stuff that Connor doesn’t like, hmm?” There was a definite teasing quality to her voice.

“All that other yucky stuff?”

She went rigid in my arms as soon as the words left my mouth. But then she laughed. “Not right away.”

“Right. So not tonight, but tomorrow is a new day.”

“Watch it,” she said, laughing. “I’m getting pretty good at punching guys in the belly.”

“And kneeing them in the nuts,” Jonny said as he came into the owner’s box.

Hammer was right behind him. “Amen to that.”

Cadence whirled around, blushing. She was too fucking hot when she blushed. Made me think all sorts of things I had no business thinking with her brother standing three feet away. Still, I didn’t care. She was gradually letting down her walls and welcoming me in.

Slow and steady, I reminded myself. One step at a time.

“Come out with me tonight?” I asked once the guys made their way past us and we were as alone as was possible surrounded by all the WAGs and kids, not to mention half the team.

Still blushing, she turned back to face me. “Come out with you where?”

“Your choice. We can go with the big group to dinner and be surrounded by people. Or we can go, only the two of us, back to Shari’s and share a slice of pie.” I tried hard not to let my preference show too much. Either way, I’d be with her.

“Shari’s,” she said, grinning. “But only if you agree to the coconut cream.”

“It’s a deal.” And a date.

She hurried over to fill in Jonny and Sara about our plan, and then we headed out before anyone could stop us.

CADENCE

“I WISH WE didn’t have to head out on the road so soon,” Levi said, taking another bite of our shared pie.

“But you do. It’s part of the job.”

“I know. But I don’t like the idea of your brother and me both being gone right now.”

I fought to keep from rolling my eyes, but I barely succeeded in that battle. “It’ll be fine. Sara and I will be careful. We’ll call the cops if anything fishy happens. Anthony and Ellen are both fully aware of the situation, and they’re going to be looking out for me, too.”

“But what if it isn’t enough?”

I started counting items off on my fingers. “I’ve got pepper spray. I can kick a guy in the balls. I’m signed up to take Krav Maga classes starting in a few days. The security guys for every facility I’ll be spending much time at have been informed.”

Levi grabbed my fingers to stop me, and I shot my eyes up to meet his.

“I know all this,” he said. “But I’m allowed to worry.”

“You are?” The knots of annoyance in my belly gave way to butterflies because of the look in his eyes.

“I am. Because you said I’m your man, right?”

I wasn’t sure I’d said it exactly, but I might as well have. “Right,” I croaked.

“I’m your boyfriend.” He sounded a lot more confident about it than I was.

“You are.” My heart squeezed when the words came out.

“So you’re my girlfriend. I’m allowed to worry about my girlfriend when I’m away. That’s part of the deal.”

“Who made up these rules?” I asked, cutting off another bite of pie to try to hide the fact that my face had rapidly filled with heat.

“Someone, somewhere, a heck of a long time ago.” He speared most of the bite I’d been going for.

I gave him the evil eye.

“You snooze, you lose.” He popped my pie in his mouth and winked at me.

“You’re as bad as Anthony.”

“Are we as adorable as Anthony and Jesse are together?”

I laughed. “You think they’re adorable?”

“What, you don’t?” He raised a brow. “Come on. The way they were at ChocolateFest…” He reached for the last bite, but I snagged it before he got there.

“Speaking of Anthony and Jesse,” I said, popping it into my mouth, “they’ve finally set the date. Valentine’s Day. I can bring a date.”

Levi scraped up the last dregs of the coconut cream. “Does this mean you’re asking me?”

“I suppose so. If you want to come.”

“I can think of worse ways to spend my day.”

“Gee, what a compliment,” I said, laughing.

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“I won’t tell Jesse that last part, or he’ll try to hold you to it.”

He paid our bill and left a tip for our waiter before we headed back out to his car. He opened the door for me, but before I could climb in, he leaned in for a kiss. Not a wild and crazy one like the first had been. This one was slow and hot—scorching, almost—with the kind of heat that bubbled up from my belly and left me desperate for more. One of his arms slipped behind my back, holding me close to him, but not as close as I wanted to be.

“What was that for?” I murmured against his lips when he broke it off without backing away.

“Because, since I’m your man now, I can kiss you and all that other gross stuff.” He trailed the tip of his finger over my lips a few times, leaving me panting. Breathless. Then he pressed his lips against mine again, hard and fast and hungry. “I could get used to this, Cadence.”

“So could I.” Every time he kissed me, I felt a bit tipsy. Almost drunk, but from lust instead of alcohol. It was addictive. I bit my lower lip, and his eyes went straight there.

“Every time you do that, I think about biting you.”

“Do you?” I could barely speak, because my lungs weren’t working anymore.

“I do. Like this.” His lips pressed against the side of my jaw. His tongue followed, and then he nipped me, sharply enough to make me gasp for air, but not hard enough to cause true pain. “Only I want to do it everywhere,” he said.

“Everywhere?” My head was swimming, and I felt dizzy, so I grabbed hold of his biceps to keep from falling back into the car. It was too soon to back away from him, too soon to lose that contact. His touch steadied me even as it left me lightheaded.

He brought his hand forward until the backs of his knuckles brushed the side of my breast, making me shiver. “Everywhere.”

It sounded like a promise. I latched on to it, determined to hold him to his word.

“Get in the car, Cadence,” he said, his forehead bent down until it pressed to mine. “I need to take you home before I forget everything about how I’ve told myself this has to go.”

“Do you always follow the rules?”

“Usually.” He grinned at me, but his eyes were still dark with the same heat surrounding and filling me. “But you make me want to break them.”

I laughed as I lowered myself into the car. Levi closed the door and went around the front to climb in on the driver’s side. After he started the ignition, he froze, staring out the window on my side.

“What?” I asked, turning to follow his gaze.

“Doesn’t that look like Guy’s car? The silver one under the light. I remember it from the parking lot at the rink.”

My heart stopped. “It does.” It didn’t simply look familiar. There was no doubt it was Guy’s car. Which meant Guy was here.

Levi pressed the button to lock his car doors. “It was parked down the street from your brother’s house last night when I left, too.” He put the car in reverse. “Take out your phone and call the police.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CADENCE

KRAV MAGA CLASSES WERE no joke. Neither was my determination to learn how to protect myself. Seeing Guy’s car in the Shari’s parking lot had left me more shaken than I’d ever been in my life. By the time the cops had arrived at the diner, he and his car had been gone.

They told us they were going to stop by wherever he was staying today and give him another warning, but so far he hadn’t done anything to warrant his arrest. Right now, I wasn’t sure I wanted him arrested. Deported back to Canada would be much better. Nothing short of at least having him in jail would help me feel safe again, though, and it didn’t matter how many people I had surrounding me or how many weapons I had with me. I wanted Guy out of my life, once and for all.

Aside from all that, even if I wasn’t fond of Cam and Hammer’s tactics the other morning, they’d proven one thing—something I’d already realized but maybe hadn’t been ready to admit to myself. If Guy decided to physically attack me in some way, I was going to have to fight tooth and nail to escape. He could easily overpower me. Nearly any man in the world could, for that matter. Which meant I needed to learn ways to fight back that he wouldn’t expect.

So, even though I was spending hours every day on the ice with Anthony and working out in the gym like I always did, then spending several more hours teaching Sophie and the handful of other figure skating students I’d picked up along the way, I was giving it everything I had in Krav Maga.

Especially now, while the Storm was out on the road. I didn’t have my brother and Levi here as distractions, so I was able to fully devote myself to my training.

Not that I was doing it alone. Anthony and Jesse came with me sometimes, taking the classes alongside me. One night, Sophie’s mom, Paige Bergstrom, suggested that she and her daughters should all join me. That had been quite the adventure, but Sophie had proven to all of us exactly how strong she was. She actually took me down a couple of times, and not because I was going easy on her. Katie had tagged along a couple of times, dragging her mother with her. Some of the other players’ wives and girlfriends were starting to pop in on the classes, all saying it was a good idea for each of us to understand how to protect ourselves in case anything were to happen since the guys were on the road so much. Sara had even left the kids with one of the other guys’ wives on a few occasions to come with me, not that I understood why any of them would agree to keep an eye on Connor. None of them were related to the tiny terrorist.

By the time I got home at the end of each night, all I wanted to do was soak in a hot bath and melt into bed, but my nephew typically had other plans. He liked to jump on me, especially since Levi wasn’t around to be used as a jungle gym.

That was how Jesse and Anthony discovered me when they came over for wedding planning one night after the team had been gone for almost a week. But at least I hadn’t seen any signs of Guy stalking me in that time. Maybe the additional warning from the cops had been enough.

“All right,” I said as Connor dug his toes into my ribs and flung himself across my shoulders. “Venue for both the service and the reception are taken care of. Officiant has been arranged. What’s next on the agenda?” I did my best to hold on to my pen and note pad, despite Connor’s efforts to get all my attention on him.

Three voices answered at once, each with a different response.

“Flowers and photographer,” Sara said.

“Wardrobe,” Anthony insisted.

“Cake,” Jesse said with way too much enthusiasm.

“Flowers and photographer are two separate items,” I replied.

“Not necessarily.” Sara tossed a platter of fruits, veggies, meats, and cheeses on the coffee table between us. “Mia Quincey offered to shoot the wedding for you at a very fair price. And she’s got a friend she works with sometimes who’s a florist. They’ll give you a package deal. She gave me a quote, based on everything you’ve already decided.” She dug a couple of flyers and a price list out of her purse and passed it over to the guys.

“Not bad,” Anthony said a moment later.

“Not bad at all,” Jesse put in. “In fact, it’s good enough that we can splurge a bit on the cake.”

I held up a hand. “Hold on. One thing at a time. Are you two happy with using Mia and her friend for photography and flowers? Or at least happy enough to set up a meeting to talk with them?” There were only a couple of weeks left before their date, so we didn’t have any time to waste on jumping from one thing to the next without settling on anything.

They looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to me and nodded. “Yes,” they said simultaneously.

“Done.” I marked a few things down on my note pad before looking up at Jesse again. “The cake? What are you thinking? Did you go sample—”

“I didn’t. Because I have a better idea.”

“This sounds like trouble,” Sara said.

“This sounds expensive,” Anthony corrected her.

I waved a hand at the two of them to be quiet. “Go on,” I said to Jesse. “What’s your idea?”

“Well, you two remember the chocolatier from ChocolateFest, the one who made the chocolate-covered bacon?” He ignored his fiancé’s groan and kept going. “I grabbed her business card while we were there, and I gave her a call. She said she can make chocolate-covered-bacon roses to use as decorations on an ice cream cake. All of our favorite things! All together!”

“I’m not quite sure chocolate, bacon, and ice cream were meant to go together,” Anthony said warily.

“Honey.” The single word came out as a whine. “Please. Do it for me.”

“What’s she going to charge?” Sara asked, bringing us back to the details.

“I’m glad you asked,” Jesse said, whipping out a scribbled note on a used napkin covered with coffee stains. He passed it over to Anthony, who made some faces. After some hemming and hawing, he gave in so we could move on to the next item on the agenda.

Half an hour later, all the details for the wedding had been settled upon. Everyone knew who was responsible for arranging which services. Sara excused herself to take the kids up to bed, thankfully relieving me of my small-but-deadly-to-my-kidneys burden.

“So what are you doing this weekend while we’re gone?” Jesse asked me once Connor’s bedroom door thumped closed upstairs. He had a skating competition in Cleveland, and even though Anthony and I weren’t ready to start competing yet, Anthony was traveling with him for moral support.

“I’ve got lessons with Sophie and a couple of other students, and Krav Maga classes. Katie invited me over to her place with a few of the girls to watch the Saturday afternoon game.”

“Keeping busy,” Anthony said.

“As busy as I can.” It was the only thing that kept my mind off of the two men who otherwise consumed it. Levi would be back in town on Monday, at least. That would help. Or at least it would mean I could see him. Maybe kiss him some more.

A lot more.

And, maybe, we could do a lot more than just kiss.

I understood why he wanted to take things slowly—he was trying to be sure we followed through with what I’d said I needed—but something had clicked for me. Levi was funny and patient, humble and outrageously kind. He was everything that Guy could never be, and he’d shown me time and again exactly how right for me he was. I didn’t have to trust Cam’s and Sara’s judgment any longer. I saw it for myself.

Once all that was clear to me, I didn’t see any more need to keep putting Levi off.

Now I just needed to convince him of that.

Jesse picked up an apple slice and dunked it in caramel dip. “You could come with us,” he said, crunching. “Your man’s not here. It might be good to get away for a while.”

“Tempting as that may be, I think you two will be better off without a third wheel.” Besides, I wasn’t convinced that Guy had given up. If he tried something while I was away from home and all the safeguards we’d put in place so far… That wasn’t something I wanted to think about. “I think I’ll pass.”

Jesse pouted. “No midnight pizza-and-PJ parties?”

I tossed a throw pillow in his direction, laughing. “Not this time.”

He knocked the pillow aside, his eyes crackling to life. “Ooh. Next time you come, we’re doing a pizza-PJ-and-pillow-fight party.”

“I’LL SEE YOU two next weekend,” I said to Devyn and Kaetlyn Griggs, sisters who’d just completed their third skating lesson with me. They giggled and waved as they rushed out of the rink with their mother.

Usually, I left with my students, but they were in a big hurry to get to their older brother’s basketball tournament, which was all the way across the city and due to start in ten minutes, and I wasn’t quite done sorting myself out.

I finished putting all my gear in my gym bag. Then I slipped my feet into my boots and tugged on my coat. I took my phone out of my pocket before heading out into the cold. There was a text message from Levi. Simply the thought that he was messaging me before his game sent warmth spreading through all my limbs. I slid the bar to read it.

I think about you nonstop. Can’t wait until I can see you again. In person, not only on Skype. I’m falling hard for you, Cadence.

He was falling for me. That was probably a good thing, since I was almost positive I’d already fallen for him, whether I’d been intending to do that or not. I jotted off a quick response, trying to keep my thoughts to myself for the time being—telling him something like that would be much better done in person—and then headed out myself.

Gord, one of the guys who worked at the front desk, smiled when I got to the entry hall. “Why don’t I walk you out?” he suggested.

“Oh, I…” This wasn’t normal, but then again, I wasn’t often all alone when I left. I smiled at him and nodded. “That would be really nice of you, Gord. Thanks.”

“Just making sure you’re all right,” he said, taking my gym bag from me and holding the door open. He was an older man, probably past retirement age, and always behaved like a true gentleman, even though they were rare in today’s world. “Gotta jump-start that Zamboni, now that you and those girls are gone. There’s a midget hockey game in a few hours.”

“Jump-start it?” I laughed, fishing for the sunglasses buried in my purse.

Gord winked at me. “It’s almost as old as I am. Needs a good jump to start up in the morning.” He glanced out into the parking lot and slowed his pace enough to catch my notice.

“What is it?” I followed his gaze. Guy’s car was parked in the same spot it had been before, but I didn’t see him in it or anywhere else.

“That the car of the man who’s bothering you?” He inched closer to me and put a knobby hand on my elbow.

I nodded.

“Thought so. You get in your car. Lock your doors and go. I’ll call the police as soon as I get back inside. Tell them he’s here.”

“Not yet,” I said. I wanted evidence this time. “Come with me. I want to take a picture of his plates with the building in the background as proof that he’s here and shouldn’t be.” I shifted the keys in my hand until my pepper spray was in position and ready to be fired.

“I could do that,” Gord argued. “You just go on home and let me—”

“Not this time.”

He stayed with me as I took pictures and emailed them from my phone to the officer in charge of my case. The whole time, he kept scanning the lot, looking for Guy to return. Thank goodness that didn’t happen. Then I dutifully walked beside Gord back to my car and got in as directed.

I locked the doors and started the engine, waving Gord back into the building so he’d be aware I was fine.

I wasn’t fine, but I didn’t need him to worry. That wouldn’t help anything.

He turned and headed back into the building, and I put my car in gear.

But then I froze.

There was a piece of paper shoved underneath the wiper blade, fluttering in the light wind.

I climbed out and ripped it free, getting back into the car and locking the doors again before I did anything else. My pulse battered its way through my veins and my hands shook as I unfolded it.

Guy’s familiar scrawl covered the sheet from a hotel note pad. At first, I couldn’t read it. Then I realized I was crying, and my tears had obscured my vision. I brushed the tears away with the sleeve of my coat and tried again.

I saw your boy toy kiss you outside the diner. I saw you making out with him that night at your brother’s house. I’ve seen you with your fag friends, too. Not to mention all those bitches and the kids. I’ve seen you trying to learn how to fight. I’ve seen you with your fucking pepper spray. Like any of that will help you. But you know what else I see, Cadence? I see when they’re all gone. When it’s only you.

Like now.

When I finally looked up from the note, Guy was standing halfway across the lot, directly in front of me. He waved and blew me another kiss, exactly like last time.

Without another thought, I picked up my phone and blindly dialed, then put the car into gear and hit the gas, heading straight for him. He jumped out of the way right before I would have otherwise hit him, falling to the ground and rolling.

“Hello? Cadence?” It was Levi’s voice on the other end of the line, which instantly helped to calm me.

“Hi.” My voice cracked.

“What’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything was wrong, because I was alone, and this bastard wouldn’t leave me be, and the thing I wanted most in the world right at this moment was to fall into Levi’s arms, for him to hold me until I stopped shaking, but he was all the way across the country. “I’m going to the police,” I forced out, turning my car in that direction, clutching the note between my hand and the steering wheel so I couldn’t possibly lose it.

I didn’t look in my rearview mirror. Couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Guy any more than was absolutely necessary.

“Okay,” Levi said. “Good. Why? What’d he do this time? And are you all right? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“No. I’m fine.” I wasn’t. That was about as far from the truth as possible. “He was at the rink again. Left a note on my car.”

“A note? What kind of note?” His voice was clipped. Angry. But not at me.

“Threats. More threats.” A tear fell down my cheek.

“Take it to the police. You’ve got evidence this time. Maybe now they can do something about the son of a bitch.”

“I am.” Despite my better intentions, I sniffled. “Driving there now.”

“You’re crying. Try not to cry while you’re driving. That’s never good.”

I knew that all too well. “Trying.” Then I sniffled again.

There was a sound like he’d slammed a door or punched a wall. “Fuck, I wish I was there.”

“I do, too.”

“A couple more days. Two more days, and then we’ll be home. When do Anthony and Jesse get back?”

“Monday. Same as you.” Too long. I was starting to think maybe I shouldn’t go back to the house. Was it safe for Sara and the kids if I was there? Wouldn’t Guy leave them alone if I wasn’t with them? I wasn’t so sure.

“Cadence?” Levi’s voice was rough and strained.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you won’t go anywhere alone once you’re done at the police station.”

How could I promise him that when I’d just been thinking the best way to protect the people I loved was to stay as far away from them as I could?

“Promise me,” he repeated. “Don’t go doing something stupid. I need to know you’re not alone.”

I turned in at the parking lot across from the station. “I’m here,” I said. “I have to go take this in.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he repeated as we hung up.

I hadn’t made him any sort of promise, but his words echoed in my head the whole way into the building. Don’t go doing something stupid. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d been saying to myself? If I were alone, that would be the easiest way for Guy to get to me. He wasn’t making himself known when I was surrounded by people. Usually only when it was just me, or if I only had one other person with me.

Alone, I was an easy target. Surrounded, I wasn’t.

Truth and fear didn’t mesh well in my head.

LEVI

KEEPING MY HEAD together on this trip had been difficult in the best of times, considering how worried I was about Cadence and her stalker. But before our Saturday matinee game against the Rangers, when I’d gotten that call from her, it had gotten to be about a thousand times more difficult than before. I’d filled in Jonny with what I’d learned as soon as I hung up with her, but now we were both worried sick.

Here we were, stuck in New York and unable to protect her. Anthony and Jesse were in Cleveland all weekend. Yeah, the cops were there, but so far they hadn’t done much but give her a piece of paper. We didn’t like it. Neither of us. Not one bit, but what could we do short of skipping out on the team? Nothing.

Right before warm-ups, Jonny came stalking over to my stall in the locker room, looking ready to rip my head off.

“What?” I asked, sure it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Cadence.

He glared at me, shook his head, and stomped off.

“Go,” Hammer said. “Follow him. Figure out what’s up.”

So I went, finding him in a quiet corner in the bowels of Madison Square Garden, not too far from where Koz and several of the other guys were kicking around a soccer ball.

“Sara just called,” he said once I caught up with him. He ground out the words, like he’d swallowed gravel.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

He shook his head. “She’s having a hell of a time convincing Cadence to stay at the house. Cadence seems to think it would be safer for Sara and the kids if she wasn’t there.”

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“Yeah.”

The worst part of it was that there might be some truth to Cadence’s fears. I wasn’t sure. Would Guy leave the other people in Cadence’s life alone if she wasn’t around them? Maybe or maybe not. It was too soon to tell.

“She’s not leaving yet, is she? She needs to stay at least until we return home. I don’t like the thought of her being alone.”

“If she leaves, she’ll be alone whether we’re there or not.”

“Not if she comes to stay with me.”

Jonny glowered at me for a long time. Long enough that most guys would immediately back down from whatever it was they were doing.

I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. Not on this. “She’s scared for you and your wife and kids. I get it, but she can’t be alone.”

“She’s scared for you, too,” he finally said. “What happens if she won’t stay with you?”

“I’ll find a way to convince her.”

“And when we’re out of town the next time? What then?”

I shook my head. “We’ll figure it out. I don’t know yet.”

Jonny grunted and nodded. “All right. So we convince her to stay until we get back to Portland, then she stays with you. But I swear to God, 501, if you put one toe out of line…”

“You don’t need to threaten me. I’m as worried about her as you are. I’m not going to hurt her.”

He grunted in response, and his glare didn’t lighten up at all. But he wasn’t acting like he was about to rip me limb from limb so his son could feed me to the alligators. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

Holy hell. He wasn’t going to murder me over my suggestion.

“How do we convince her to stay put for now?”

“Sara can manage it,” he said. Then he turned around and stalked back to the locker room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LEVI

THE RANGERS HAD BEEN one of the best teams in the league all season, and today, we were quickly learning why. They were relentless on the puck. Their forwards were constantly coming at us, and the D typically joined the rush. Henrik Lundqvist was no slouch in goal, either. Not a surprise, since he and Nicky tended to fight for that position for Team Sweden every time it came to international competition.

Today, they were having a goaltending dual.

Partway through the third period, shots were coming at each of them almost nonstop, despite both teams actively trying to block the puck before it snuck through.

Marc Staal, one of their D-men, wound up for a slapper. I went down without even thinking about it. The puck got me on the inside of the knee, right where there’s no padding.

“Fucking son of a bitch, that fucking hurts,” I shouted, trying to get myself up so I could return to the bench and walk it off.

Lucky for me, our forwards gathered up the puck and skated out of the zone, and Harry gave me a shove, putting his stick in my back, to help me get off the ice.

“You break anything?” Archie, our head trainer, asked.

I shook my head, grimacing. “It’s only a stinger.”

Bergy glanced in my direction. “Walk it off, 501. Need you in this game.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted as I made my way to the tunnel behind the bench, limping around until the worst of the pain dissipated into a dull throb. That was much more manageable. I headed back and took my spot on the bench between Harry and Hammer.

We were defending against the Rangers’ attack again, with Koz, Ghost, and Jo-Jo doing their damnedest to get the puck back in our possession. Koz finally got a stick on it, and that black rubber motherfucker squirted out into the neutral zone.

Ghost turned on his afterburners and shot out to catch up to it. The Rangers’ defenseman covering that point lost an edge and fell to the ice, leaving Ghost all alone. He picked up the puck on his stick and skated in all alone against Lundqvist. High, glove-side. That was what Ghost needed to do if he was going to have any chance against this guy, and everyone on our bench knew it.

He didn’t elevate the puck enough with his shot. Straight into the glove. Would’ve been a bull’s-eye if Lundqvist had a fucking target on him.

Ghost skated back to our bench for a change. “Sorry, boys. Didn’t put enough mustard on that one.” He took a seat, and Webs bent over his shoulder, telling him something like “You’ve got to elevate to accumulate,” as Harry and I headed over the boards for our next shift, along with the third line of Austin Cooper, Otto Raita, and Dylan Poplawski—a speedy trio who frustrated the hell out of the opposition, even if they didn’t tend to score a lot.

Coop won the draw to Lundqvist’s left, and we went to work. Pops set up camp directly outside Lundqvist’s crease, providing an excellent screen and absorbing a ton of slashes and crosschecks that the refs chose to overlook. Otter and Coop played keep-away with the puck, every now and then passing it back to me or Harry while they tried to free themselves of their cover.

Harry wound up and shot it toward the net, and Pops tipped it just wide. Coop beat the Rangers to the rebound and sent it back to me.

I didn’t have a good look at the net. No clear lanes. I passed it back to Otter before shifting myself into a better position.

By now, we’d had the Rangers chasing us for longer than the average shift, and they were tired. The forwards cycled the puck some more, but it got trapped in the corner and two of them went in to dig it out. Once it finally popped free, the puck shot up my side of the boards, so I pinched in to keep the play alive.

The next moment, I was behind the net with the puck on my stick. Pops and Coop both went straight to the paint in front of the net.

I passed it out toward them, and it bounced off a skate. Lundqvist tried to change directions, but it was too late. The puck slipped under his pads and past his attempt to contort his body into a position that might stop it.

“Fucking right,” Coop screamed, leaping into my arms as the other guys rushed to join the celebration. In no time, they were all pounding me on the top of the head and slapping me on the back.

“Did it hit your skate?” I asked Coop. If it did, he’d get credit for the goal. Hell, the Rangers might even challenge it, saying he’d kicked it in.

“Not me, man. It was one of them.”

Huh. Maybe this time I was on the right end of an own-goal situation.

I skated in front of our bench, holding out my glove for fist bumps as I went. When I reached the end, Hammer grabbed me like he was going to give me a noogie.

“Hell of a risk you took, kid. See what happens?”

Yeah. I saw. And I kind of liked it.

The lights over the penalty box came on, signaling a TV timeout, and Jamie skated over to stand in front of me. “Hell of a redirection. Tell me you planned it to happen like that.”

I started to shake my head, but he punched my shoulder.

“Lie to me. Tell me you planned it, because now I want to practice doing that. Need to show my kid brother how it should be done.” Then he winked.

“Yeah,” I said, drawing the word out. “I knew exactly what I was doing. Good luck repeating it.” Because I sure as hell didn’t think I’d ever be able to.

“Gotta have something to work toward, right?” Then he skated back to center ice to set up for the next face-off.

“Watch it, 501,” Webs said, coming up behind me. “If you’re not careful, he’ll have the whole team trying to learn how to steal your move.”

I ENDED UP scoring the only goal in that game against the Rangers. Sunday night, I had another good game against the Islanders. Didn’t end up in the goal column, but I had two assists and three blocked shots, not to mention what might have been the biggest hit of my career, when I’d lined up Clutterbuck and caught him with his head down. Usually, he was the one on the other end of hits like that, so it felt good.

But now, the only thing on my mind was getting home and making sure—for myself—that Cadence was all right.

We spent Sunday night in New York instead of flying cross-country in the middle of the night and arriving home in the wee hours of the morning. Any way you looked at it, we were going to lose Monday for practice anyway.

By the time we landed at PDX, it was late afternoon. Jonny caught my eye as I was leaving the plane.

“You following me to the house?”

No point in putting things off. I nodded. “As long as you’re okay with that.”

“Sara got her to agree to stay until we returned home, but that’s all she agreed to. I think it’s better for everyone if we sit down and hash it all out. Anthony and Jesse should be back by now. I’m sure we can convince them to come over, too.”

“You mean you think it’s best if we gang up on her.”

He shrugged and grunted.

I did exactly as he suggested and followed him home. It turned out Anthony and Jesse were already there. Connor was jumping on Jesse’s balls when we came through the door, so I decided to do as little as possible to draw the little boy’s notice. The less he jumped on mine, the better my chances of ever being able to father children, if that was in the cards. A quick look around revealed Cadence was nowhere to be found.

Sara kissed Jonny and passed Cassidy into his arms almost as soon as we got there. “We ordered pizza,” she said. “Seemed easiest, with this many people.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m starving. Where’s Cadence?”

“Here,” Cadence said from the stairs. Then she saw me, and her eyes lit up. That was all it took to shake off all the cold from the outside and warm me all the way through. She rushed down and straight to me, wrapping me up in a hug.

I put my arms around her and held her close, breathing the scent of her hair.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled in my coat.

“Not as much as I missed you.”

“All right, you two lovebirds,” Jesse said. “Now that everyone’s present and accounted for, can we get to the business of sorting out what we need to do about Guy?”

“Feed him to the damn agilators!” Connor squealed, jumping on Jesse’s balls so hard the man let out an “oof.”

Not that I had any intention of letting Cadence go any time soon, unless she wanted me to release her. I was perfectly content to stay exactly as we were, and besides, I didn’t want to give Connor any excuse to start jumping on me instead of Jesse. Thanks, but no. I liked my balls exactly how they were.

She didn’t move to pull away, thank goodness. I needed the comfort of being able to touch her. To reassure her I was here.

“Don’t use Mommy’s words,” Jonny admonished his son, carrying Cassidy to his recliner and taking a seat. She fussed for a moment, so he rocked until she settled down again.

Sara gave Connor an eye-rolling sort of look and shook her head, not that it would do any good. “I think the bigger order of business is figuring out where Cadence is going to stay, since she seems to think she’s putting all of us in danger by being around us.”

“Which is absolute bullshit,” Jonny said. He turned to us and waited until Cadence peeked out at him. “You’re in more danger if you’re alone than we are if you’re with us. You should stay here, exactly like you have been. He hasn’t tried anything while you’ve been here. He’s only coming after you in public when you’re alone or might as well be.”

“Just because he hasn’t done anything yet, that’s not a good enough reason to assume he won’t ever.”

“Just because he’s threatening you, that’s not a good enough reason for you to do something stupid and go off all on your own,” her brother countered.

“But you didn’t read that note.” She started shaking against me as soon as she mentioned the stupid message he’d left for her on her car. “You didn’t see. He threatened all of you. Every single person in this room. If anything happened to Connor or Cassidy—”

“He’d have to be an idiot to try anything with one of the kids,” Anthony cut in. “Or any of the rest of us, for that matter. I don’t think that’s his game. He wants you to be scared something will happen to one of us so he can trap you alone. That’s what he’s been doing all along, and I don’t think there’s any reason we shouldn’t assume that’s what he’s going to continue to do until he’s finally arrested or deported.”

“But what if he’s even more off his rocker than we think?” she argued.

“Then you come and live with the two of us,” Jesse said. “Then you’re away from the kids but not all alone. You’d have me and Anthony to look after you.”

“I’m not… You’re about to get…” Cadence spun around to face the rest of the room, staying in my arms, though. “The last thing the two of you need is a third wheel.”

“Oh, hush now,” he replied.

Sara plopped down on the arm of Jonny’s recliner, rolling her eyes. “So you forget all the crazy ideas in your head about protecting everyone else and stay put. The cops are going to arrest him. One of these days—and probably soon—he’s going to do something dumb enough that he’ll get caught, and they’ll throw his ass in jail—”

“Mommy said ass!” Connor shouted.

“—and then they’ll deport him. You can be done with him for good.” Sara finished it without even paying her son’s outburst any attention.

“Not for good, though. What if he goes after Mom? Or Chloe or Corinne? He can find all of them easily enough and torment them to get to me.”

“You can’t protect the whole world, Cadence,” Jonny said. “And who says getting away from us will be enough to make him leave us alone? If he’d go after Mom, what’s to say he wouldn’t try to attack someone you care about here, whether you’re around or not?”

“Would you stop being reasonable?” she said, throwing up her hands. I rubbed her arms, trying to calm her down, but she was so worked up I doubted it would help much, if at all. She leaned back into me, though. “Everyone needs to stop making sense, because Guy doesn’t. He just doesn’t make any sense at all. He’s gone off the deep end, and I’m trying to be sure if he’s going to hurt anyone, it’ll be me and not one of you. Because I can’t handle that.” She shook her head adamantly. “I can’t. If he did anything to—”

“Then come and stay with me,” I said, cutting her off before she went any further into panic mode.

She went completely still against me. Silent.

Well, fuck. We’d gone straight from everything progressing nicely to now she might want to run away. I should’ve eased her into the idea instead of tossing it out there like I had, but it was too late to take it back.

Now I had to pick up the pieces.

CADENCE

STAY WITH LEVI? Was that honestly what he’d just suggested?

I glanced at Cam, who raised a brow.

Maybe I’d misheard him. Because if Levi actually had suggested I move in with him, surely Cam would be shouting threats at him or something similar, but instead he was looking expectantly at me.

Levi had stopped rubbing my arms, and he’d gone kind of rigid after asking me. So maybe I’d heard him right, after all.

“You don’t have to go live with him if that’s not what you want,” Sara rushed to say, after a prolonged silence. “But I don’t think anyone in this room is going to sit back and tell you we’re fine with you not staying with someone. You can stay here. You can go live with Anthony and Jesse. You can move into Levi’s apartment. Hell, I think half the other wives and girlfriends with the team would invite you to come live with them if it comes down to it. But you can’t go off somewhere all by yourself with no one else around. Not gonna happen.”

“I’ve got a guest room at my place,” Levi murmured in my ear. “I’m not suggesting… I mean, only if that’s…” He sighed. “This is not easy to talk about with your brother glaring at me.”

I nodded and reached for his hand. “Come with me.” Then I led him up the stairs, away from the insanity that had started the moment he and Cam had returned from their road trip.

“What the hell do you think—”

“We need to talk in private, Cam,” I said, cutting my brother off and not slowing down at all. “Ten minutes. We’ll be back.”

“If she goes to live with him, they’ll be alone a lot of the time, you know,” Sara admonished him.

“Not in my house,” Cam grumbled.

When we got to my room, I closed the door behind us and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Levi stood there looking uncomfortable as all get out, shifting from foot to foot.

I patted a spot on the bed beside me. “Sit down.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t want you to think this is about me trying to rush you,” he said, staying put. “I’ve got a guest room. You could have your own space. Bathroom. Privacy. I’m—I’m not trying to get you in my bed.”

“I never thought you were.”

“I mean, I want you there. In my bed. But not until you’re ready.” His dimple popped out on his cheek, and he dragged a hand through his hair.

I grinned and ducked my head. He was so embarrassed that I was embarrassed for him. It was kind of sweet. How on earth had I ever thought Levi was even remotely like Guy? The thought of Guy being embarrassed about anything was laughable.

“I know what you mean, Levi,” I said, once I got myself together again. “I know what this is about.”

“I swear, I’m not going to try anyth—”

“Would you please stop making me promises like that?”

He raised a brow.

“It’s kind of flattering to think there might be something more to you asking me to come and live with you than you simply wanting to protect me from a psychotic stalker ex-boyfriend.”

“You can’t honestly believe there’s not a hell of a lot more involved than that, can you? Cadence, I’ve been pursuing you since you first showed up in Portland more than a month ago. Only I’ve been trying to play by your rules and give you the time and space you need to come to terms with the fact that we’re supposed to be together. And I’m still trying to play by those rules. If you’re not—” He broke off for a moment, crossed over to sit beside me. He took my hand, sending tingles racing up and down my spine. “I don’t want to move too fast. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still in hell. I’m trying to be a good guy and put your needs above mine, but it’s not easy when all I can think about is you. Making sure you’re safe. Doing whatever I can to make you happy. Being with you in every possible way.”

I slid the pad of my thumb in lazy circles over the back of his hand.

“I’ve got to be completely honest with you,” he said, taking me by surprise.

“You haven’t been?” I blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out what he could have been lying about.

“For the most part. But I’ve never told you the whole truth about why I started pursuing you.”

“You mean it wasn’t the spread in ESPN: The Body?”

He licked his lips and grinned. “That might have had something to do with it. But seriously… It was really shitty of me. That night, at Burnzie’s house when I first saw you? I was beating myself up again over being less than my brother, and I wanted to find something—anything—where I was a step up on him.”

“I know that. We talked about it that first time we went to Shari’s. How you’re always comparing yourself to him.”

“But I didn’t tell you all of it. The thing is, these days, you’re more famous than Katie, so I thought…”

“You wanted to date me because I was more famous than your brother’s wife?” I spluttered, trying not to laugh. Only, maybe I didn’t try too hard. Or not at all.

He gave me a sheepish look. “I know. It’s ridiculous, right?”

“It’s kind of funny. Did you seriously think that could somehow make you believe in yourself more?”

“Nah. Not me. I just thought maybe some people would be more likely to take me seriously. But I think that was all in my head.”

“Seems to me you’re finally starting to take yourself more seriously—at least if I’m focusing on how you’re playing these days. You’re not hesitating out there. You’re only doing what you know you need to do.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Something tells me Bergy wouldn’t say maybe about that. Or your brother. Or anyone.”

“I know. I’m too hard on myself. It’s not an easy habit to break when you’ve been doing it for twenty-four years.”

“But you realize being with me isn’t going to do a darn thing to make you any better or worse than Jamie is, right?”

“Yep. And I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that even though I’ve felt like I’m in competition with him in everything I’ve done my whole life, he hasn’t got a clue.”

“No?”

“No. He only wants the best for me. Like I do for him, to be honest. It’s all been in my head.” He quirked a grin at me, letting that dimple come out again. “Kind of like you. You’re the starring attraction.”

“I’m not just in your head, though. I’m as real as it gets,” I said before I thought better of it. Then I nibbled on my lower lip, watching as his gaze lowered there.

“Trust me.” Levi took a long breath, lingering on it like he was trying to brace himself. “I’m very much aware of precisely how real you are. Too aware.”

My heartbeat was pounding so hard I thought my chest might explode. “So you’re serious about this? About me coming to stay with you?”

“Serious as Jesse’s chocolate-covered-bacon obsession. I’m not scared of what Guy might do to me, but I’m fucking terrified of what he might do to you if he got you alone.”

“So what happens when you guys go back out on the road?”

“Come back here. Go stay with Anthony and Jesse. Katie would love some company, I’m sure, or maybe the two of you could go stay with her mom and have a week-long slumber party. Whatever you want—I just don’t want you to be alone. Not until we’re sure that son of a bitch is out of your life.”

I couldn’t stop chewing on my lip. “I still don’t like the idea of him coming after me while I’m with you.”

“Better than him coming after you when you’re with Connor and Cassidy, though, right?”

I nodded.

“I solemnly swear I’ll keep my hands to myself—unless you don’t want me to.”

Laughter burst free without my permission. “Thought you were going to start quoting the Weasley twins on me.”

“I’ll save that one for when you’re ready.” He winked. “Because at that point, I will be up to no good.”

Something in the general vicinity of my heart fluttered. “All right.”

“All right?”

“I’ll come to stay with you. We can work out the keeping-your-hands-to-yourself part once we’re away from my brother’s house.”

“That sounds like a plan I can live with.”

Surprisingly, it sounded like a plan I could live with, too. “Mischief managed?”

“Not yet, it’s not.” He nipped my nose.

I laughed again as we got up and headed back down the stairs to fill everyone else in on what we’d decided. The smell of pizza nearly knocked me over. Or maybe it was Levi picking me up and carrying me over his shoulder so we could go downstairs to the pizza faster.

As soon as he set me down, Connor demanded his turn to be carried by Tarzan.

“Looks like that one backfired on you,” I said.

The way he looked at me, I got the impression he was more than okay with that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CADENCE

“WHAT DO YOU wear to a wedding for two gay men?” Levi asked me from down the hall. “I mean, I know that probably sounds like a stupid question, but…”

“Just wear whatever you’d put on for any of your teammates’ weddings,” I called out in return. “Any of the suits you’d use for going to or from a game should work out fine.”

“You’re sure?”

I sighed. “You don’t need to put on a tux, but I’m not taking you with me if you come out with a tracksuit on.”

“Okay. Got it.”

I looked myself over in the mirror, checking to see if there were any holes in my hairdo after all the curling and hairspray and whatnot. It looked all right, from what I could tell. I wished Levi had a handheld mirror, or that I’d thought to bring one of Sara’s over with me when I’d moved in a little over a week ago. But I hadn’t, and he didn’t, and so far I hadn’t found the time to run to the store and buy one.

There hadn’t been a single peep from Guy in all the time I’d been living here. No more creepy notes on my car. No sign of him showing up in parking lots at any of the places I tended to go. He had gone silent enough it was tempting to forget all about him.

I couldn’t, though. The last thing I needed to do was let down my guard. He’d pounce the moment he thought I wasn’t expecting him to do anything.

I’d kept up going to Krav Maga classes and had otherwise gone about my life as though nothing were wrong.

If only that were the truth.

The most natural, normal thing about life since moving into Levi’s apartment was learning to be around each other so much. I wasn’t certain why I’d pushed against him for so long. We were good together.

Insanely good, actually.

Most nights, when he didn’t have a game, we curled up together on the couch for hours, our arms wrapped around each other, watching whatever show was on that night—Black Sails and Impractical Jokers were his two favorites, but he didn’t put up any fight at all when I asked him to watch Downton Abbey with me. Sometimes we kissed. Sometimes we went quite a bit further than kissing, but we never ended up going to bed together. Not yet, at least. It was becoming more and more difficult to go down the hall to my bedroom at the end of the night without trying to drag him along with me. Not only that, but I could tell it was taking every ounce of patience he could muster to take things as slowly as we both realized we needed to take it.

I wasn’t sure how much longer we’d be able to hold out.

For that matter, I wasn’t sure how much longer I wanted to hold out.

My one saving grace was that the team was due to leave for another road trip in a few days, so then we couldn’t jump each other’s bones. Not while he was gone. That trip would also coincide with me needing to be more on my guard again. With Levi and my brother out of the picture, it was far more likely that Guy would strike again. I had to be ready.

With my hair as good as I could manage and my makeup looking decent, I shimmied into the dress I’d picked out to wear today—a soft, coral pink, since that was the color Jesse requested I wear to go with their Valentine’s Day theme—and slipped into my shoes.

I glanced at the clock. We should’ve left five minutes ago. “You ready?” I called out again as I rushed into the living room.

Levi was standing there looking sexier than should be legal in a soft gray suit, striped pale violet shirt, and a teal tie. I stopped short, just to look my fill.

“Shit. Should I have worn pink? I know you told me they were doing pink for everything. I should’ve thought of that. I can go chan—”

“No time to change. We’re already late. You’re fine like this.”

He grabbed both of our coats and helped me into mine. “Only fine?”

“If you ask Jesse, he’ll probably say you’re fine.” I snapped my fingers and head, mimicking Jesse’s move. “And I agree with him.”

Levi pecked me on the nose, his dimple making an appearance, and then ushered me out the front door.

By the time we arrived at the courthouse, the parking lot was jam-packed. We had to find pay parking off the street and hike a short distance to make our way inside. We found seats near the middle just in time.

Anthony came out first, in a black tux with pink cummerbund and bowtie. Then Jesse came out in an insanely fabulous white tux with matching pink accents, including a top hat. The justice of the peace brought everyone to order, and the guys said their vows. It was a quick, tasteful service.

In no time, it was over, and we were all headed back to Anthony’s house for the reception. Or really, since Jesse had put it together, I supposed we should call it a party.

Sara and Cam were there—they’d left the kids with Sara’s dad for the afternoon, although I wasn’t sure how they’d convinced Scotty to keep the two little hellions. Since she’d been such a big part of the planning, Sara basically ran the show after everyone was inside. She was good at bossing people around and making sure everything was done the way Anthony and Jesse wanted it.

Levi and I found the happy couple and gave them our presents. Jesse made a big show of kissing both of us on the cheeks to thank us, which made Levi blush and stammer.

“Never been kissed by a gay man before?” I asked, teasing him once we were alone again.

“There’s something I can check off the bucket list.”

“Just be glad he didn’t kiss you like this,” I said, stretching up on my tiptoes and sealing my lips over his.

I kept it short because today was not about the two of us. Apparently I didn’t keep it short enough. Cam caught my eye once I’d broken off the kiss, and he ground his jaw in the distance.

Behave, I mouthed at him across the living room.

Tell him to behave, he mouthed back.

I laughed and shook my head, then tucked my hand into Levi’s arm and led him off to talk to some other acquaintances from the world of figure skating.

Before long, it was time to cut the cake. A woman who was so hot she made me look like a bum came out with the aforementioned ice cream cake with chocolate-covered-bacon roses for decoration. I’d never seen anything less appealing in my life, but it was exactly what Jesse wanted—and Anthony would never deny Jesse anything if he could manage to avoid doing so.

Mia Quincey got herself into position and choreographed the two of them cutting into the cake. I blinked, and then ice cream was flying. Literally.

“Um” —I looked at Levi, wide-eyed— “ready to skedaddle?”

“It’s okay for us to sneak out early?”

“Unless you really want to get hit with ice cream and bacon?”

He took my hand, and we made a mad dash for the front door, laughing and grabbing our coats on the way. We were still laughing by the time we were in the car and moving.

At a stoplight, Levi turned to me and brushed something off my cheek, then put it in his mouth. “Hmm. Bacon and ice cream isn’t half bad. Who knew?”

I was about to tell him that apparently Jesse did, when he leaned over and kissed the same spot on my cheek, flicking his tongue against my skin. Then I couldn’t say anything. Heck, I couldn’t even breathe anymore, not after my initial gasp from the contact.

He straightened away from me and started driving again when the light turned green.

The rest of the way to his apartment, my ability to concentrate was nil. All I could think about was the soft touch of his lips and tongue against my skin and how I wanted more of it.

Once we got inside, Levi came up behind me and helped me out of my coat. The warmth of the material had barely left me when the heat of his lips replaced it. He kissed me right where my neck melted into my collarbone, and I shivered. That was one of the spots he’d discovered early on—one of the ones that made me melt into a puddle of goo and had me willing to do almost anything he suggested.

“Cold?” he murmured, his lips still making contact with my skin. He wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me back against him.

I shook my head. “Not cold. If anything, I’m hot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” he teased.

I was tempted to elbow him in the ribs, but I was too short to reach him there. I might accidentally hit him somewhere that might cause damage, or at least put a quick end to what I hoped we were starting. Instead, I linked my hands with his, threading our fingers together.

“I got you a Valentine’s Day present,” he said, his mouth so close to my ear that his voice sent reverberations through my whole body. “I hope that’s allowed at this point in our relationship.”

“A present?” I asked, both elated and upset at the same time. “I didn’t think to get you anything.”

“Good. Because I want this to be all about you right now.” He took a moment to hang our coats in the closet, then reached for my hand and led me into the living room. “Sit here and close your eyes,” he said, nudging me onto the couch.

“I’m not good at keeping my eyes closed.”

“No, you’ve got too much of Connor in you. Can’t do what you’re told.” He winked. “Close them, or I’ll blindfold you.”

I bit my lip to suppress a grin. “You could blindfold me if you want.”

He stared for a minute. Then he shook his head. “Don’t give me ideas. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and waited until I heard him doing something in his bedroom. Then I opened them again. He was right. There was a bit of Connor’s devious streak in me. Maybe that was where he’d gotten it, because that little boy’s nature was about as different from Cam’s as possible.

A moment later, Levi came back carrying a small box, big enough to hold a stack of index cards. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed,” he said accusingly.

“Should’ve gone with the blindfold. Here.” I patted the seat next to me. “Let me see.”

The expression on his face was a combination of amusement and annoyance. I figured that meant good things to come. He sat next to me, putting an arm around me the way he almost always did, and passed the box into my hands.

“Go on, nosy,” he said.

The lid was labeled Cadence’s Daily Treat. I lifted the top off the box and set it aside. Sure enough, it was filled with note cards. The first one said Present this card to redeem one romantic afternoon walk at the International Rose Test Gardens followed by dinner of your choice. I flipped through the box, scanning the different cards. They were good for all sorts of things: a kiss to be delivered even when one or both parties were angry, a dinner prepared by him, an authentic and heartfelt apology (whether he felt like he’d been wrong or not), a bubble bath, a thorough cleaning of the kitchen, a candlelit massage, a day spent babysitting my niece and nephew so I could hang out with my brother and sister-in-law without the kids getting in the way, a weekend getaway to the beach (schedules permitting), a foot rub, and even a few labeled Lady’s Choice. Some were clearly meant for when he was on the road or when I had to travel for competitions, since they offered things like an uninterrupted hour of Skype time, flower delivery, or travel arrangements to wherever the team was playing.

I set them all back in the box and returned the lid to its position. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not difficult. Every day, you pick a card, and I give you whatever’s on the card. I’ll restock it whenever it starts running low, so there are always plenty of options.”

“But…” No one had ever done anything like that for me before, let alone doing something for me every single day. With Guy, it had always been about what I needed to do for him.

“But nothing,” Levi said. “Every day, no matter what, you get to pick a card. And you get whatever is on the card, no questions asked, no arguments, no hesitation.”

“No matter what?” I asked. Because the wheels had started spinning in my mind.

“No matter what.”

“And I get to start today.”

“I hope you will.”

“All right.” I opened the box again and fished through it until I found one of the Lady’s Choice cards.

“Going for one of those to start with, hmm?”

“Yes.” I pressed it into his hand. “Because I have something very specific I want.”

“I’m all ears.”

I looked up, meeting his eyes full on. “I want you to take me to bed.”

LEVI

I WASN’T SURE what I’d been expecting her to ask for, but sex was definitely not it.

And that was what she meant, wasn’t it? Maybe I was reading too much into it, putting my own desires into her words when she hadn’t intended anything of the sort. I needed to be sure before I did something stupid.

“You want me to take you to bed?” I repeated.

“Yes. Your bed.”

That was all it took to have me salivating. “You’re sure?”

We’d been making out a lot over the last week, so much that I tended to lie in bed awake at night afterward, jerking off to the memory of her taste, her scent, the firmness of her body beneath my hands mixing with the softness of her curves. Every time I was around her, I had to fight off my inner teenager. I wasn’t sure I was ready to be with her in a way that would be good for her, not only good for me. Sheer terror swamped me that I might blow my load the second I came into contact with her naked flesh.

“Positive.” She didn’t look the least bit deterred. “Absolutely one hundred percent positive.” She took my hand in both of hers and held it still for a moment before placing it flat against her ribs.

The tips of my fingers brushed the underside of her breast, and I groaned.

She set the box of cards on the coffee table and straddled me, rising up on her knees so we were on the same level. Her eyes had gone dark green again with those fiery golden flecks making them come to life. I wanted to drown in them, to let the flames consume me.

“Remember?” she murmured before her lips pressed to mine in a teasing, taunting kiss. “No questions asked. No arguments. No hesitation. Take me to bed, Levi.”

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?”

She rabbit-punched my shoulder. “That’s a question.”

“It’s an important question.”

She kissed me again, sucking my lower lip between hers and flicking her tongue against my skin. “I solemnly swear that I am making trouble, and you’re going to like it or else.”

“That’s not even close to the quote.”

“It’s close enough. Besides, I don’t care about that at the moment. What I care about is you gave me a box of cards, and you’re letting me pick what I want from you, and this is what I want. And if you don’t stop asking questions and take me to bed, I’ll start twisting quotes from the Dowager Countess of Grantham, instead.”

“Oh, God. Not Downton Abbey. Please, don’t torture me like that.”

“Levi…” She had the most adorable warning tone in her voice, like I’d heard her use several times with Connor when he was misbehaving.

I was tempted to peck her on the nose again, to further infuriate her, but I held back. “I’m done. No more.” I stood up, holding Cadence by the waist. She wrapped her legs around me, and the skirt of her dress inched upward until it was barely covering her at all. Her gorgeous, bare thighs squeezed tight around me.

She worked on undoing my tie as I carried her to my bedroom. By the time I set her on her feet in front of me, she had the knot undone. It slipped free from my collar and remained in her hand.

“You planning to use that for something?” I asked in a teasing tone.

She shrugged, her eyes sharpening while a devious smile came to her lips. “I don’t know. I’m sure there are a lot of things we could do with this.”

“Maybe some other time.” I slid my fingertips up her rib cage and over the length of her arm, then took the tie away from her and tossed it to the floor. “Not this time. I don’t want anything between us this first time.”

“Okay.” She lowered her eyes until all I saw were lids and lashes, and she bit her lower lip in a move that was equally innocent and sultry. Then she slipped her hands up my chest and started undoing the buttons of my shirt.

I had to suck in some air to be sure I kept breathing through whatever she had in mind. “Okay?” I repeated.

She nodded, dragging my shirt free from my waistband to finish getting it open. “You can have what you want if I can have what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“I don’t want you to be careful with me. Everyone’s constantly trying to be sure I’m not hurt, that no one’s done anything to me.” There was a fire burning in her eyes that would melt me if I wasn’t careful. “Tonight, I want you to do things to me. Dirty things. Messy things. The kind of things you could never talk about in front of the guys without turning bright red from embarrassment.”

“But…I thought the first time should be sweet and romantic.” Hell, it was Valentine’s Day. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing the whole flowers, chocolate, and candles thing? Not mauling her like a piece of meat. Don’t get me wrong—mauling her sounded seriously fucking good, but it wasn’t how I’d envisioned any of this would go. Especially since I was falling so hard for her. Hell, I never thought I’d be taking her to my bed so soon. The wild and crazy part, with her adorable-one-minute-turning-to-sex-goddess-the-next eyes, might do me in and make it official.

The L word. How could I have possibly gone from trying to one-up my brother to falling in love in the blink of an eye? But I clearly had.

“We’ve got lots of time later for slow and sweet. Right now, this first time? I want it hot and fast and loud. Frantic, like I am.” She undid my belt buckle and the fly of my slacks, never removing her eyes from mine. Then she dropped her hand lower until the tips of her fingers barely grazed my straining cock.

My heart was about two solid beats shy of bursting through my ribs, simply from the thought of all she was asking of me. But then I stopped thinking entirely. There was no room for thought in this. Only for action.

“You’re sure that’s what you want?” I asked.

She nodded, delving lower to wrap her hand all the way around me.

I groaned, but then I spun around so Cadence’s back was against the wall. I picked her up by the waist, pinned her in place with my hips and thighs, and kissed her as hard as I’d been dreaming of.

She let out a tiny sound, and I backed off a bit in case I’d hurt her. She pulled me closer, putting both arms around my neck and nipping at my lower lip the same way she always bit her own. Then she squeezed me with her thighs and ground against me.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I said on a groan.

I fumbled with the zipper in the back of her dress, but it was no use. Couldn’t get it to budge, so I caressed her breasts through the fabric. Her nipples were hard nubs, even through all the fabric. I slid my hands up her thighs, lifting the skirt out of the way until it bunched at her waist. She was so slick and hot that her panties were soaked, and I’d barely touched her.

She shoved my shirt and suit jacket over my shoulders, and they pooled at my feet while she worked on lowering my pants. “Condom,” she panted.

“Hell.” Wasn’t thinking. Not at all.

I carried her with me to the bathroom, kicking off my pants as I went, and pressed her against the door frame for stability. Then I ripped open the top drawer, where I had a small stash. Fumbled around until I got my hands on one. I tried to get the stupid thing open, but I was too hot and sweaty and frustrated to get the job done.

“Give it to me,” she said, ripping it from my hands. In no time, she had the foil wrapper open. I slipped the condom into place as she tugged her panties to the side.

Then I was inside her.

Her eyes went wide. Fucking hell, I should’ve taken at least a little more time to be sure she was ready for me, but it was too late now. Her pussy was as small and tight as the rest of her. I’d never felt anything like the way she squeezed me. This might as well be heaven, because I couldn’t think of anything better than the way I felt right at this moment.

I tried to move slowly, to give her time to adjust, but Cadence dug her fingernails into my upper back and buried her head in the space between my neck and my shoulder, and she said, “Fuck me, Levi.”

So I did. It was hard and fast and loud—all the things she’d demanded of me. I pounded into her, thrusting so hard it knocked her back against the doorjamb repeatedly. Somehow we ended up on the bathroom floor, my head banging against the toilet seat on my way down. I didn’t care how bad it hurt because it was the best fucking sex I’d ever had in my life. Maybe the best I ever would have.

Because this time, it mattered. Cadence mattered more than I was prepared for.

She rose up over me, riding me while I let my hands explore her petite body. Her pink dress was drenched in our sweat and wrinkled beyond belief, and I was only making it worse by manhandling her through the fabric. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, not with the sounds she was making. Soft moans mixed with sharp cries that echoed in the bathroom, all of them urging me on. But we’d started out so fast and hard I didn’t know if I could hold on much longer.

“Baby, I need you to come,” I ground out, trying to hold back my own release.

“I’m close.”

“I’m too close,” I insisted.

Keeping her eyes on mine, she grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged me up and over her, leaning back until I was on top. She hooked her ankles over my shoulders and locked them together behind my neck. I held on to her hips and tipped them forward just enough that I had to be hitting her G-spot.

After a few more thrusts, her eyes rolled back and she cried out, while I rode the wave of her release. The tremors squeezed my cock so much that I lost the thin rein of control I’d had to that point, shouting “I love you,” as I came.

Her hands stroked my face, my neck, my shoulders, both of us panting and trying to come back down to earth. After a moment, I realized she had to be insanely uncomfortable being crushed beneath me with nothing but the cold, hard tile floor to cushion her. I rolled off her, but she came with me, straightening her limbs as we adjusted.

I was about to suggest we get up off the floor and maybe take a hot shower together when she propped herself up on her elbows to look down at me and said, “You love me?”

“I…” I blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if I should pretend I hadn’t said it or if I might as well admit it. But it didn’t matter. It was the truth, and there wasn’t any good reason to lie about something as important as that. “Yeah,” I said, grinning at the dumbstruck look on her face. “I do. I love you, Cadence Johnson. So get used to that.”

She bit her lower lip again, but she was smiling. “Okay. But only if you get used to the idea that I love you, too.”

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, she went and flipped the script on me. I tugged on her hair until she came down and let me kiss her, long and slow.

She broke off the kiss after a minute and giggled. Straight back to the cute and adorable version of herself. How on earth could she switch back and forth like that? I didn’t have the first clue, but I intended to spend as much time as necessary studying her to figure it out.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

Cadence shrugged with a devious grin that would put her nephew to shame. “Mischief managed.”

At least she got that quote right.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LEVI

ONCE AGAIN, I leaned forward on those damned figure skates Bergy had bought for me—the ones he insisted I wear for these lessons—and once again, I caught the fucking toe pick on the ice and fell flat on my face.

“Ow!” I shouted, barely stopping myself from shouting a bunch of less acceptable things in front of Sophie.

She giggled, and Cadence skated over to offer me a hand.

“So, what does Levi need to do, Sophie?” Cadence asked. “What’s he doing wrong?”

Sophie put her hands on her hips, taking up a posture I’d seen her mother use countless times. “Don’t just bend the knees. Bend the ankles.”

“Hockey skates don’t allow you to bend the ankles,” I grumbled.

“But figure skates do,” Cadence said. “Which is why you’re wearing them and not those stiff old hockey skates.”

“I like my stiff old hockey skates.”

Cadence shrugged. “You can learn to like these, too.”

With that, Sophie skated away from us, trying to perform a spiral move she’d been working on with Cadence for a while. The way her eyes lit up when she finished it, I couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah. I suppose I can.” For Sophie’s sake, at least.

The twinkle in Cadence’s eyes told me she understood exactly where I was coming from. She took off to follow her true student, and I had to try to catch up to her without falling on my ass. “You’re as messed up over Sophie as I am over you, aren’t you?” I asked her once I reached her side.

She grinned. “Sophie is far and away my favorite student. And it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s your best girlfriend.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Hey, Sophie,” she said, ignoring me. “You’re doing great with that spiral on your right leg. What about trying it while leading with your left. Think you can do that?”

“I can do it,” Sophie insisted. And no one who had ever watched her try would ever doubt it. This little girl could do anything she set her mind to.

Her first several efforts weren’t successful. Sophie ended up on her butt even more often than I did, but she never stayed down, and she never cried. She simply got back onto her skates and tried again.

“Why don’t you try it, too, Levi?” Cadence suggested after helping Sophie to her feet. She winked at me, ignoring the evil eye I was sending her direction.

I picked up some speed and then pushed off, and almost instantly tipped forward. I probably came close to breaking the fall with my nose.

“Try it again, Levi,” Sophie shouted at me.

“Yeah, try it again, 501.”

I whipped my head around when I recognized Koz’s voice. “What are you doing here?” Fucking hell, none of the guys knew I was doing this. Bergy did, of course, since I was doing it for Sophie’s sake. We had an understanding, though. He wasn’t going to spill my secrets. I supposed Jonny might be aware, if Cadence had told him. But that was it. I hadn’t even told my brother about these lessons. The last thing I needed was for any of the guys to find out I was taking figure skating lessons. I especially didn’t need them to find out I was falling on my face constantly because of these stupid skates or my inability to use them properly.

But now that Koz had seen me in these skates… I would never hear the end of it.

“Bergy wanted me to meet some speed skating instructor here,” Koz said. “I wasn’t too happy about it. Not until I saw this.”

The son of a bitch had a grin on his face that likely wouldn’t go away for months. This had just made his fucking day. Hell, maybe his whole year.

I glanced at my watch. Our ice time should’ve been over about twenty minutes ago, but the guys up front hadn’t kicked us off yet. Old Gord had a thing for Cadence. I couldn’t blame the guy, since I definitely had a thing for her, too, but that didn’t mean he needed to let her go long with these sessions. Either Bergy or Paige would be here any minute to pick up Sophie, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to go home.

“Come on, Sophie Bug. Need to get you out of those skates so you can go home.”

“Time’s already up?” she said, pouting.

“Time’s up,” I replied.

She skated over to the door I held open for her, and Cadence and I helped her get her skates off.

“Are you coming to my next lesson?” she demanded. “You need to practice. You fall down too much.”

“Wish I could,” I said, winking at Cadence. “But you know I’ve got to go with the team. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She gave me another practiced pout. “I’m gonna skate better than you soon.”

I slipped her skate off and put it in her gym bag. “I don’t doubt it. You’re improving fast.”

“Score lots of goals, then,” she said. “And make sure Harry is a good boy.”

I tried not to bust up laughing. What on earth did she know? Maybe more than I did. “Harry?” I asked innocently, ignoring the way Cadence was shaking her head at me.

“Bergy said he was bad and went to jail. Tell him to be good, like you.”

Cadence snickered, no doubt thinking of how very bad the two of us had been last night, but Sophie didn’t pay her any attention.

The doors down at the other end of the ice opened, and both Bergy and Paige came through.

“Will do, Sophie Bug” I said, tying her shoelace. Cadence had already finished the other shoe, so I picked up Sophie’s coat. “Now let’s get you all bundled up, okay?”

“Okay.” She let me slip her arms into the sleeves, but then she turned and gave me her serious face.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“You should take your skates with you. You need to practice.”

“Yeah, 501,” Koz called out from the ice, where he was already warming up. “Bring your figure skates so you can practice for The Nutcracker on Ice.”

I was about ready to crack his nuts, but I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything I’d regret. No chance was I going to slip up and curse in front of my Sophie Bug.

I could take care of Koz later. Or maybe, if I was lucky, he’d forget all about it.

Not likely, but a man could hope.

CADENCE

SURELY ONE OF THESE DAYS, Levi and I would get around to taking our time and enjoying sex with each other. That hadn’t happened yet, though. Every time we started off heading toward his bed, we somehow ended up getting all sorts of random bumps and bruises from various pieces of furniture, and we typically ended up on the floor in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

I couldn’t say I minded in the least, and it didn’t seem like he did, either.

That said, there was zero chance I’d ever look at the rounded corner of the kitchen counter the same way again. Even now, as I said as much in hushed tones to Katie and her sister, the small of my back ached something fierce. I rubbed it while they busted a gut laughing.

“Keep it down or someone else will come over here,” I said, laughing just as hard as they were. I glanced around the owner’s box, where we were hanging out after the Storm’s game, waiting for the guys to finish cleaning up. No one seemed to be paying the three of us any attention, thank goodness, but that could change at any moment. Especially if we kept it up the way we were now. “If my brother gets word of this, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Lips. Sealed.” Dani dramatically pretended to zip and lock her lips, then tossed away the imaginary key. It was a Thursday night, and she’d driven down from Seattle for a long weekend away from her fashion school, to coincide with the team heading out of town. The plan was for me to stay with the two of them for the weekend, since the guys would all be gone, and since Anthony and Jesse were still gone on their honeymoon, so I’d brought a duffel bag with me.

“So how, exactly, do you get into the right position for that?” Katie asked. “I mean, you’re tiny.”

“Not on my own,” I said, blushing. “He’s so much taller than me that we’re always having to make adjustments.”

“Good thing you’re flexible,” Dani said. “I sincerely doubt I could last like that for longer than three seconds. He’d have to be strong enough to hold me up like that.”

“Good thing you’re single and don’t have to worry about it,” Katie shot back at her.

“Just because I’m single, that doesn’t mean I’m not—”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not what?” her father asked ominously from behind us. We hadn’t been paying much attention, so none of us realized the guys were starting to make their way up to join us. If we had, no doubt we would have changed the subject well before now.

“Nothing, Daddy,” she said, trying to pull off a sweet, angelic note.

“Mm hmm. Let’s keep it that way, hmm?” He stalked off to collect his wife, and the three of us burst out laughing.

We looked around to see which of the guys had made it upstairs so far. Nicky Ericsson and Keith Burns had already come up to give their families good-bye hugs, but Levi and Jamie still hadn’t joined us. I caught a glimpse of Harry, with his flaming-red hair and matching bowtie, hanging out in the corner and keeping a wary eye on Katie and Dani’s father.

“Your dad still hasn’t said anything about what happened with Harry?” I asked them, dropping my voice.

“Nope,” Katie said. “He’s not saying a word.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Other than to tell me that I’m to steer clear and not even think about it.”

“But you don’t want to steer clear?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve got to go back to school, and I’m not into the long distance thing. But there’s not any harm in some minor flirtation, right? And a quick fling never hurt anyone.”

Katie chuckled and shook her head. “Be careful.”

“Careful of what?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think Harry’s the kind of guy you have a quick fling with.”

“Maybe so, maybe no,” Dani said, crossing her arms.

I didn’t miss the fact that she kept making eyes at Harry. Or that he was returning them, when he wasn’t otherwise occupied with watching her father.

Cam came through the doors and stalked straight over to the three of us. “You’re all set? Have everything you need?”

“My bag is in the trunk. We’ll all leave together.”

“Cadence is going to be perfectly fine,” Katie told him. “Dani and I are both going to be with her all weekend. Mom’s coming over some, too.”

“Babs told me he made sure you two both have pepper spray.”

“Got it,” Katie said. “We’re going to be fine. All of us will be.”

He gave her a curt nod, and then he hauled me up into a bear hug. “You call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time, day or night.”

“I will,” I promised, mainly so he’d let me go. He was squeezing the air out of me.

Once he put me down, I realized Dani had snuck off to go flirt with Harry up close. Apparently her father was distracted enough for her to take the chance. Either that or she honestly didn’t care if he saw. I had a feeling Harry cared a bit more than she did, based on the way he kept glancing over in the coach’s direction.

Cam gave me a worried look. “No practice, since Anthony’s still gone, right?”

“Right. I do have a couple of sessions with my students on Saturday, though. Gord and the guys will be on alert, and my kids almost always have a parent at the lessons with them. Especially on the weekends. It’ll be fine.”

He scowled, but he nodded. Then he gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Text me every day.”

I gave him an exaggerated salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

Then he rolled his eyes and crossed the room to Sara and the kids.

At about the same time, Levi came in and wrapped me up in his arms. Tension melted away as soon as he touched me. I couldn’t get over how easy it was to let myself fall further in love with him, without worrying about what might happen if I let down my guard. I didn’t need any sort of a protective wall with him. Only with Guy.

Levi rested his chin on the top of my head. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

For a long time, we stayed exactly as we were. There wasn’t a need to speak. Nothing between us was uncomfortable, and the simple act of touching each other was more soothing to my nerves than anything. But time was running short, and he had to head back down with the rest of the guys to fly up to Vancouver tonight for a game tomorrow. Eventually, he drew back enough to tip my chin up.

“You’re going to be okay with Katie and Dani?”

“Girls’ weekend,” I said to keep him from worrying. “We’re giving each other pedicures and all sorts of things like that. I’ve even got plans to finagle Dani into designing some skating costumes for me and Anthony. Don’t tell her that, though. She thinks the weekend is all going to be fun. She’s got no idea I intend to make her work.”

Levi laughed and kissed me, still laughing. Everything around us melted away when our lips touched. I definitely hadn’t had my fill of him yet, and he was already leaving. At least this trip was short. They were due back in town on Tuesday, but that seemed like a very long time from now.

“Don’t forget to pick a card every day,” he said softly.

A wicked thought struck me, and I motioned for him to bend down so I could whisper in his ear. “If I pick the hour of uninterrupted Skype time, can you make sure you’re alone? Because I might want to manage some more mischief during that time.”

He cracked a grin. “I’m sure I can come up with a way to get rid of Koz for an hour.”

“Longer wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Are you going to get away from Katie and Dani for that?” he asked.

“I’m sure I can arrange that. I can have time alone, even if we’re doing a girls’ weekend.”

“You have a wicked streak. Is your brother aware of that?”

“Probably. Just wait till Connor hits puberty. Cam can think of me as training, to prepare him for dealing with that boy.”

“I doubt anything could prepare someone for dealing with your nephew.”

“Probably not. Still…” I gave him another quick peck on the chin. “I’ll pick my card in the morning and text you with what I want.”

“I doubt I’ll sleep from the anticipation.”

“Maybe we can both stay up…”

“We’d have Koz for company,” he said.

I pouted. “That doesn’t sound as good.”

“Know what having to leave you now is making me realize?”

“Not a clue. But I’m desperate to know.”

His eyes roamed over every inch of my face, as if he were trying to memorize how I looked at exactly this moment. “It’s that I don’t ever want to be without you. We haven’t been together all that long, and it’s way too soon to be talking about getting married or anything. But when I’m with you, it’s easy to think about forever.”

That wasn’t even remotely what I’d been expecting. My lips formed an O, but nothing came out, and this amazingly warm sensation spread from my belly all the way out to the tips of my fingers and toes.

“I only want you to know I’m thinking about it. With you.” Then he kissed me again, a long and lingering one, before being dragged out of the owner’s box with the rest of the team.

I headed back over to see if Katie and Dani were ready to go, surprised to find Dani grinning like a loon—much the way I suspected I might be, after what Levi had just said to me.

“What?” I asked, dropping down into my seat to gather up my purse and coat.

Katie shook her head, laughing. “Dad’s going to murder you. Not to mention Harry.”

“Seriously,” I said. “What happened? You’re killing me.”

“I kissed him.” Dani beamed. “He’s a very good kisser. And his hands! Oh my God, his hands are huge. And so strong. And he understands how to use them. The thought of what he could do with those hands if we were alone… But Dad came up before I was done, and I think Katie’s probably right. It looked like he was going to murder the poor guy. And Harry looked like he wanted to murder me. I probably shouldn’t have done that with Dad around…”

“It was way worse than the way Dad ever reacted with me and Jamie. Ever. Even when I was still only seventeen.”

“Now I really want to find out what Harry did to end up in jail,” I said.

“I couldn’t care less,” Dani said. “I just want him to kiss me again. And maybe try that move you were talking about. The one on the kitchen counter? Yeah. I think if I was with Harry, I could totally manage that one. He’s more than strong enough.”

“You’re a mess!” I said.

Katie rolled her eyes. “And you’re going to get him killed before you ever get to try it.”

“Maybe not,” Dani said. “They kind of need him on D right now. I doubt Bergy’ll let Daddy kill him.”

“And you’re heading back to Seattle before they come home again.” Katie gathered up all her things and waved to her mother and a few of the other wives as we headed out the door.

“Yeah.” Dani sighed. “But I’ll be back for spring break. Not to mention all summer long.”

“Good thing for Harry he doesn’t stay in Portland for the summer,” Katie said.

“True.” Dani turned to me with a wicked grin. “But my semester ends mid-May. With any luck, they’ll still be in the playoffs at that point.”

I didn’t even try to stop myself from laughing. There wasn’t a chance I could succeed.

FRIDAY PASSED WITH a lot of laughter and no cause for concern. Dani and Katie’s mom, Laura, came over for dinner and brought wine and Riley Jezek’s fiancée, Amanda Morris, along with her. Dani technically wasn’t old enough to legally drink, but since we were sticking around the house and her mother was the one giving it to her, I figured it wasn’t the end of the world.

Since it was a full house and we were busy giving each other makeovers, I chose a card for Levi to order delivery for our dinner. We sat around eating Chinese food, drinking wine, and watching the guys crush the Canucks.

The next morning over a late breakfast, Katie brought up the idea of her and Dani coming with me to the rink while I taught my students.

“I’ve got three hour-long sessions. You’ll both be freezing and bored out of your minds.”

“But you wouldn’t be alone,” Dani said.

I rolled my eyes. “I won’t be alone. Gord will be working up front. I’ll have my students, and I should have at least one parent sitting in the stands and observing. Besides, Guy hasn’t tried anything in weeks. I think he’s forgotten all about me, or maybe he’s gone back home.” Although, if he’d gone home, the police would have informed me about that. I decided not to mention that part to these two sisters, because they appeared to be giving in. No reason to alter circumstances against myself.

After a couple more minutes of debate, they gave in and agreed to let me teach my students without the two of them tagging along.

Running later than I’d intended, I headed out to my car and froze. There was a large envelope stuck under the wiper blade. Running my fingers over the pepper spray on my keys, I glanced up and down the street. No sign of Guy’s car, or anything that seemed out of the ordinary. So maybe he knew I was here, and just wanted to remind me that he hadn’t forgotten about me.

I took the envelope and got into the car. The whole way to the rink, I debated whether I should cancel my classes for the day and go straight to the police with this or not. But I didn’t want to let the girls down. And besides, Guy hadn’t done anything but try to scare me. There was no reason to think he’d do otherwise now.

Once I parked, I took a moment to open the envelope. No note this time. It was just pictures.

Of me.

And Levi.

Having sex on the floor of his bathroom.

They’d clearly been taken by some sort of camera with a zoom lens, so it wasn’t like Guy had managed to set anything up in Levi’s apartment. Still, the violation of it clawed at me from the inside.

Someone knocked on the window of my car, and I might as well have jumped out of my skin. But it was just Devyn and Kaetlyn Griggs and their father, arriving at the rink for their lesson. Calm down, I told myself. I could do this. I could get through these lessons, then go to the police. And maybe this time, it would be enough evidence for them to arrest Guy.

My heart was pounding so hard I could practically hear it, and I could barely see through my tears to shove the pictures back into the envelope. I slammed them into the glove box and forced myself to smile as I got out of the car.

“Sorry,” I said. “Running late.”

We hurried inside and got started. Their father sat in the stands watching attentively as we worked through some very basic mechanics. From what I could tell, he didn’t realize anything was wrong. All the better. The last thing I needed was to freak out so badly I scared anyone else.

We got through their hour, and I ushered them on their way. And, as expected, Guy hadn’t shown up or done anything else. I took a few minutes to head up front and talk to Gord. He seemed to think everything was as it should be, which was very reassuring.

Next up was Rachel Allan, whose mother had come along, as usual. Rachel had proven to be a challenging student for me, as she was dealing with both ADHD and a bit of autism. Skating gave her something to focus on, though, and she was just as determined as Sophie. By the time I finished with Rachel’s lesson, I was finally starting to calm down and breathe normally again. It was just Guy trying to get to me again, and it had worked all too well. I couldn’t keep letting him bother me like this.

Rachel and her mom were on their way out when Sophie and Paige rushed in.

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Paige said. She set Sophie’s gym bag on the bleachers and started getting her dressed. “It’s been a crazy day. Always is with four girls. I forgot that Zoe has dress rehearsals today for her next dance recital, and she doesn’t have her costume. So I’ve got to race back home, grab it, and rush it up to the studio.”

“No problem,” I assured her, even though I felt more nervous than I hoped I was letting on. But honestly, Guy hadn’t done anything other than put a freaking envelope full of photographs on my car this morning. That was all he’d done. There was no reason to think he’d do anything now. I forced a smile to my lips, determined to remain calm. “Sophie and I’ll be just fine on our own, won’t we?”

Sophie nodded emphatically. “We’re doing spirals today, Mom.”

“You’re sure?” Paige asked me, trying to get one of Sophie’s skates laced. “Because Mattias said I should stay with you two. I tried calling the girls’ father—”

“I’m sure. Sophie and I will be just fine, and if we need anything, Gord can help us out. Right, Sophie Bug?”

She’d recently given me permission to call her that, too, just like Levi did. Only the two of us were ever allowed to call her that.

“Right,” she said, tugging her arms out of her coat. “Cadence and I are just gonna skate, Mom.”

“Go,” I said, shooing her on her way. I took over working on Sophie’s skates because the activity would surely help me calm down. “I’ve got everything under control here.”

“You’re an angel,” Paige said. She kissed Sophie on the top of the head, and then she headed out with the same brisk pace as she’d come in.

I made sure Sophie’s laces were tight and then grinned at her. “Ready?”

“Yep. But I wish Levi was here.”

“Me, too.” For more reasons than I cared to explain at the moment. I held out my hand to help her up, but she pretended she didn’t see it and got up on her own. We headed out to the ice and got started.

Twenty minutes into our session, the doors banged open.

“That was fast,” I said, without bothering to look over my shoulder. I’d thought it would take Paige nearly the full hour before she returned. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“Weren’t you?” Guy said.

Every ounce of blood in my body froze.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CADENCE

“WHO’S THAT MAN?” Sophie asked, always full of sweetness and light and all the good things Guy wanted to suck out of my life.

I tried to breathe, but the air got stuck halfway down my throat. Wouldn’t reach my lungs. I needed to calm down enough that I could breathe and figure out what to do. This was for real this time. He was actually here, and he intended to act, not just threaten me. Didn’t he? Why else would he be here? No reason I could fathom.

Think. Think! By now, Guy was already closer to my phone and my pepper spray than I was. No time to go get them.

I didn’t have the first clue what Guy intended, but if he was deliberately going against the protective order and coming closer to me than he should, I had to get Sophie to safety, to make sure she understood how serious the situation might be, but not scare her—all at once. That was my first order of business. Everything else had to come later. But how? No clue.

She was skating toward me, thank goodness, so I waited until she came to a wobbly stop in front of me. Then I put an arm around her shoulders and started guiding her toward the opposite side of the rink from Guy, who had almost reached that door.

“Sophie Bug, I need you to do me a favor,” I said quietly.

“What favor?” she asked.

At the same time, Guy shouted out, “Where do you think you’re going, Cadence? I need to talk to you. I came all this way for you. You can’t just skate away from me like that.”

Sophie looked up at me, her big, caring eyes filled with concern. “He’s the bad man, isn’t he? Bergy told me about him.”

There wasn’t a chance in the world I’d lie to her about this. Getting her cooperation was too important. I nodded, a thousand thoughts racing through my head at once.

“I can help you fight him.”

“Not a chance.”

It was true that she’d gone to a couple of self-defense classes with me, but I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to her. As it was, I was worried sick about Gord. There was no way he would have just let Guy walk past him. Something awful must have already taken place, and more seemed to be on the way.

How stupid had I been? I should’ve gone straight to the police as soon as I’d seen the envelope on my windshield this morning. Instead, I’d fallen back into my old habits, and I’d convinced myself it was no big deal. Nothing more than Guy pulling the same things he’d been pulling.

No more stupidity. It was time to act decisively. To get this asshole out of my life once and for all, whatever it took.

“He’s not going to hurt you, though, okay?” I said, trying to ease both of our minds. “He’s going to leave you alone. I’m going to make sure of it. But I need you to go up to the office and tell Mr. Gord that we need help. And if you can’t find him at the front desk, or if anything’s happened to him, then pick up the phone on the desk and call nine-one-one. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. “Yep. Mom taught me how to call nine-one-one.”

“Good girl.” I opened the door and helped her steady herself, glancing behind me to find that Guy had already come through the other door and was halfway across the ice. “Hurry, Sophie. Go as fast as you can. And stay out at the desk after you call, okay? Do exactly what they tell you.”

Once she disappeared, I stayed on the ice, hoping to keep him as far away from that little girl as I could, and I spun around. Guy was only ten feet away from me, fast-walking across the rink. How the heck was he moving so fast in his shoes? He’d clearly spent way too much time on the ice in his life. Shaking but determined, I did my best to assess the situation. That was one of the first things I’d learned in my Krav Maga classes. I needed to think calmly and clearly about what he could use against me and, just as importantly, what I could use against him.

This wasn’t just self-defense. I had to be ready to attack.

He was bigger and stronger than me, but I wasn’t at a total disadvantage. He was in shoes on ice; I had on skates with sharp blades. I didn’t see anything close by that would make a good weapon, so that was out. It was going to be me and my wits.

“I don’t know what you’re so scared of,” Guy said, gradually inching closer. He’d slowed down once he was almost within striking distance, after wobbling a couple of times. “I’ve never treated you like shit the way your boy toy does. You let that punk fuck you up against the wall, toss you on the floor, spread you out on the kitchen counter… He’s a fucking animal, the way he treats you. But you’re living with him and issuing protective orders against me. Doesn’t make any sense, Cadence.”

With every step he took toward me, I backed farther away. I didn’t say anything. Something told me Guy wanted to hear himself a hell of a lot more than he wanted to hear anything I might have to say, unless it was along the lines of, “Yes, you’re right, I’m coming back to you right this second.”

No way would I tell him anything of the sort.

“Is that what you wanted from me? I was always gentle with you. Didn’t fuck you like a beast. Maybe I should have, since it seems to get you off.” He smiled in a way that made my stomach churn with fear. “We could do that right now if you want. I could bend you over the boards and fuck you raw.”

Had Sophie found Gord yet? Was she on the phone with nine-one-one? God, I hoped so.

Guy took another step, and I pushed back, never taking my eyes off him. Didn’t look like he had any sort of weapon on him, but there was no telling what might be under his coat. He hadn’t reached for anything yet, though.

“Would you scream for me the way you scream for him?” He chuckled, and my insides curdled. “I’d like to hear you scream again. It’d make me think of the sound you made when you fell that last time we skated together.”

“You mean when you dropped me,” I shot back. Couldn’t stop myself. The more he spoke, the closer I got to being ready to fight back—to really fight back.

“Falls happen in figure skating,” he said, brushing it off. He was still moving. Closer to me all the time.

I was paying too much attention to him and not enough to the rest of the situation. My butt bumped into the boards, and that was when Guy lunged for me.

His feet slipped on the ice, but he caught both hands around my neck as he went down, dragging me with him.

I squirmed to get myself in a better position, fighting to breathe with his hands making that complicated, but it was no use. He used his leverage and got himself above me, his knees shoving between my thighs to get a better grip on my throat. I couldn’t spare the energy required to scream, not that it would do me any good if I did. It might scare Sophie, and that was the last thing I needed.

Don’t panic. Stay calm. Think!

My arms weren’t long enough to hold him back, but I remembered what I’d learned. I crossed my arms up over the top of his and grabbed hold of the outside of each of his wrists. Raised my hips as high as possible. Brought them down again with as much force as I could muster, and my arms at the same time. That was enough to break his hold on my neck. I bucked a hip out and got a skate in the bend of his hip. The other followed a moment later. I inched my skate blades closer to his crotch, and I kicked with everything I had in me.

My head slammed hard against the boards, leaving me dazed, and he let out an animal-like scream of pain. But I was free of him, at least for now. I scrambled to my feet and took off toward the other side of the rink as fast as I could, but I was woozy and kept stumbling every few feet. He tackled me halfway there, one hand catching my ankle. I hit hard when I went down. Hot, red blood stained the ice below me. Maybe I’d hit harder than I’d thought.

My other foot was free. I kicked. Made contact with something. Kicked again and again and again until he released my foot.

Then I was up again, skating as fast as I could. Threw myself over the boards, tumbled to the concrete floor. I crawled to the bench and grabbed my keys. I hit the button on the pepper spray before I’d fully spun around, holding down the button as he screamed in agony and fell, covering his face with his hands. Even then, I didn’t let go.

Not until the doors banged open and cops rushed inside, guns pointed at the two of us, shouting, “Nobody move!”

I dropped the pepper spray and kept my hands in the air where they could see them.

“Fucking bitch!” Guy screamed.

Two of the officers hurried closer, their weapons still aimed in our general direction.

Dizzy. So dizzy. I swayed in place, and one of the policemen lowered his gun and put an arm on my shoulder.

“Sit down. Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He lowered me to the nearest bleacher while one of his partners dealt with Guy.

“I think—” I stopped, shaking my head. It was too difficult to think.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I blinked at him. Couldn’t bring him into focus anymore. My head hurt, and I reached up to scratch it. Came away with more blood than I’d ever seen in my life.

He put a cloth or something on my head and held it there. “Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested.

That sounded like a very good idea. I let him lower me until I was stretched out on the aluminum bench. But then I shot straight back up, instantly wishing I hadn’t. Couldn’t tell which way was up and which way was a quick way to a concussion. Which I might already have, come to think of it.

I held my hand to my head and wished the world would stop spinning. “Sophie! And Gord. Are they okay?”

“Everyone’s going to be just fine,” he said, gently easing me back again. “Including you, if you’ll let us do our jobs.”

I nodded. Immediately regretted it. Nothing would come into focus, not in my vision or in my mind. Except—“Am I under arrest?”

The cop laughed, which confused me.

“Let go!” It was Sophie’s voice. “Let me go. I’m gonna take care of her for Levi.”

Then I felt her small, strong hand gripping mine.

“I did it, Cadence. I called nine-one-one.”

“You sure did,” I said, doing my best to stay calm and coherent for her sake. “You did great, Sophie.”

“They said the ambulance is coming. I’m going to ride with you.”

I nodded again, but the more she talked, the less I understood. Then she faded. Faded. Faded away.

LEVI

“WRONG SKATES, PECKERWOOD.” Koz tossed a roll of stick tape in my direction.

I caught it just before it hit me upside the head. We were in Calgary, getting ready for morning skate before our game against the Flames. I glared at him, ready to rip his head off if he said a fucking word about me figure skating, but Hammer spoke up before anything else happened.

“Look like the same skates he always wears to me.” He grabbed the tape from me and sat down beside me to work on prepping his stick. Then he glanced over at Koz. “Looks like you could use a new pair, though. How long have you worn the same skates? They’re as beat up as your face was after scrapping with Shaw.”

Ghost snorted in laughter as he passed between us.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Koz demanded.

“Just remembering how your nose got rearranged,” Ghost said. “That was a good day. Hey, you should go with Engelland tonight. I bet he can rearrange the rest of your face.”

“How about I just rearrange your face right now?” Koz shot back.

“How about we all try to remember what we’re doing here,” Hammer said.

Koz sat back in his stall and shoved his headphones in his ears, sulking. Then he took out his book of Sudoku puzzles and started solving one. I’d never understood why, but puzzles and games like that always calmed him down. At least he had a trick for getting past things.

And at least he’d shut his trap before saying anything about me figure skating.

I taped up my socks and went back to getting myself ready for morning skate. Not even two minutes passed, though, and Jim Sutter came into the locker room.

That wasn’t normal.

At all.

He might drop in after a game every now and then, and he stopped by during morning skate or practices all the time. But in the time before a game, he was busy doing his thing, and he always left it to the players and coaches to get ready.

That couldn’t be a good sign, him being in here.

He headed over to Jonny, who was quietly putting on his gear in his corner of the room, the way he always did. Head down, focused on the task at hand, no joking about. Jim said something to him, and Jonny’s head shot up. Then they both looked over at me.

It had to be Cadence.

In no time, I was standing in front of Jonny’s stall next to Jim. “What is it? What happened?”

“I need the two of you to come into Bergy’s office for a minute, okay?”

That made it sound even worse. All the blood drained out of my head. I had to be white as my fucking jersey.

We got up and followed him into the coach’s office, and Jim shut the door. Bergy looked as worried as Jonny and I were. He was up and pacing behind his desk instead of sitting there like the perfect picture of calm he so often presented.

“Why don’t we all have a seat?” Jim suggested. The three of us glared at him, so he shook his head and kept talking. “Or not. I just got off the phone with Rachel. It seems that Cadence was attacked by the guy who’s been stalking her. Guy? Is that his name? He used to be her skating partner.”

I nodded grimly.

“It happened at the rink when she was giving Sophie a skating lesson.”

Without listening for more, Bergy pulled out his phone and started dialing, and Jonny punched the wall, sending a whiteboard and markers clattering to the ground.

“Hold on,” Jim said, holding up his hands. “Everyone’s going to be fine.”

“Going to be?” I croaked out. “Meaning they’re not fine now.”

“Sophie is completely unharmed. Scared, but that’s all. Cadence got her out of the rink and had her call nine-one-one while she took on the bastard on her own.”

“By herself?” Jonny repeated. “Where the fuck was the guy who works at the rink?”

“Guy hit him over the head with something and knocked him out. They said he was an older man, and likely couldn’t have put up much of a fight, anyway. He’s got a hell of a headache and might have a concussion, but he’s fine, otherwise.”

“Where was Paige?” Bergy demanded. “She’s supposed to be there during the lessons if I can’t be.”

“She’d forgotten something for one of the other girls and left to go deal with that. Guy waited until it was just the old man, the little girl, and Cadence.”

So Cadence truly had been all on her own against the son of a bitch.

“And Cadence?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“She’s in the hospital,” Jim said. “But she’s going to be fine.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. Not even close to good enough.

I felt like I was going to be sick, but I needed to know everything. “Tell me what he did. Tell me what he did to her.”

“I will,” Jim said. “But first, I need you to tell me if you think you can play tonight.”

Play? A stupid fucking game? My girlfriend had just been attacked by a psychotic ex, so the last thing in the world I wanted to think about was hockey.

Before I answered, Jonny said, “No. We need to go home. Both of us.”

I raised a brow at him, but he glowered in return. I supposed that was a good thing, and there wasn’t much positive to take from this this other than the news that Cadence would be all right.

Jim nodded. “I thought as much. Rachel’s already working on it. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.”

“But you can’t play tonight with only five D,” I argued.

“Just got word from the doctors,” Bergy said. “Colesy’s cleared to play. Get your ass out of here before I change my mind.”

CADENCE

LAURA WEBER’S FACE and the glare of fluorescent lights met my eyes when I came to again.

I squinted and held an arm over my face to block out some of the brightness, groaning.

“Too much?” she asked. Then she turned to someone else in the room. “Can we turn the lights down?”

“Got it,” said someone who sounded an awful lot like Katie.

The blinding quality of the lights faded, until it didn’t hurt too much to keep my eyes open.

“Katie?” I said. My voice croaked over the word, and I realized how dry and scratchy my mouth and throat were. I tried to swallow, hoping it would aid the flow of my saliva so at least that part of me would stop hurting.

“Yeah. I’m here. Mom and Dani are here, too.” She came over and took my hand, and I blinked a few times to bring her into focus. She and her mother looked almost like twins with the fuzziness clouding my vision, except for the fact that one had long hair and the other had short.

“What…?” I couldn’t even finish the question.

“Guy is in prison. He’s most likely facing deportation, following the stalking and physical assault charges. You’re in the hospital. You cracked open your skull and have a concussion. Got a few staples in your head, but it’s not too bad. They had to cut away a bit of hair to clean you up, but there’s plenty to hide it while it grows out again. There’s some bruising on your throat from where he tried to strangle you, but the concussion is what the doctors are worried about more than anything. The bruises will heal.”

“So it’s nothing horrible that’ll keep me down for too long?” I asked.

Katie gave me a look. “Concussions are a pretty big deal. You might not be able to skate for a while.”

I brushed that off. Compared to what could have happened, that was nothing. “And Sophie? What about Gord?”

“Sophie finally agreed to go home with her mother once the three of us got here to stay with you,” Laura said. “She didn’t want to leave your side. Gord, too, but he’s in excellent condition. More a precaution than anything. It seems Guy hit him over the head with something off the desk. He’s got a mild concussion, too, but he should be back on his feet in no time.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a relief.” I’d imagined all sorts of awful things about what might have happened to Gord. And Sophie. The knowledge that they’d come away relatively unscathed was a blessing.

Katie nodded. “Your brother and Levi are on a flight back to Portland as we speak. In fact, they might already have landed. Could be here at any time.”

“Don’t they have a game tonight?” My brother had never missed a game unless it was for a reason out of his control, like an injury or a suspension. He just didn’t do that.

“Game’s on as we speak,” Dani said. “They’re still coming home. Bergy would be with them, too, if not for Paige convincing him that Sophie was completely unharmed.”

Laura pulled up the chair next to my bed and sat. “I got off the phone with your mother a little bit ago. She and your sisters are looking into flights.”

“They shouldn’t bother,” I said, swallowing some more. Everything to do with using my voice hurt. Maybe there wasn’t any permanent damage from when he’d strangled me, but it definitely didn’t feel good at the moment. “I’ll text Mom and tell her I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Laura replied, raising a brow. “And even if you are, it’s a mother’s right and responsibility to overreact when one of her babies is hurt—and you’re always going to be her baby, no matter how old you grow up to be. Overreacting is part of what we do.”

“I just left Sara in the waiting room,” Dani added, easily changing the subject to something equally painful for me. “She was in here with you for a while, but she had to go sort out some trouble that Connor was getting into. I can go take over for her, though.”

I shook my head, then wished I hadn’t moved that much. “Don’t. Trying to watch that little boy will put you off ever having kids of your own.” And I wasn’t sure I was ready to face Sara after being as stupid as I’d been today. And it wasn’t just today, either. It had started from the moment I’d first arrived in Portland at New Year’s Eve. What if I’d been alone with the kids, instead of with Sophie? What if Guy had attacked when I’d been at the house with all of them instead of at the rink? Any of those things could have happened. I’d put them all in terrible danger, and if Sara didn’t light into me, then no doubt Cam would.

“So now what?” I asked.

Laura poured some water into a cup for me and passed it over.

“It is water, not wine,” Dani said with a grin and a wink. “Already checked.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “What you do now is you stay here until the doctors decide you can leave. At some point, you’ll have to give a statement to the police about what happened. There’s video, though. The rink had security cameras rolling, so it’s all been captured. That should mean you won’t need to be involved too heavily in whatever legal proceedings take place.”

“Or at least that’s the hope,” Katie said.

I nodded and took a sip from the water because Laura was giving me a mom sort of look. Everything I did and everything they said made my head hurt worse, though, so I rubbed my forehead.

“Do you want us to leave you alone?” Dani asked. “We should. Come on, Mom.” She took her mother by the arm and dragged her toward the door. “Katie, you coming?” she said, stopping to look over her shoulder.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Katie said.

The door closed behind them, and then Katie looked down at me with kind eyes. “Jamie told me he’d never seen his brother such a mess before. Levi’s pretty torn up over you.”

“I’m a mess over him, too. I mean— Not that there’s anything—”

“Good,” she cut in, saving me from trying to explain. “We’re both behind you, Jamie and I. We want to see Levi happy. I think you can help with that. You are helping with it.”

The door to my room banged open, and I winced up at Levi and my brother. Sara and the kids were right behind the two of them, with Sara trying to grab on to Cam and calm him down even as she wrangled the kids.

“Shh!” Katie hissed in their direction. “She’s got a concussion.”

I couldn’t do anything but stare at Levi as he rushed in and took the seat Laura had left vacant, taking my hand in both of his. He lifted it and kissed my knuckles.

A smile crept to my lips. “Amazing. I think I feel a bit better.” The words croaked out, and I forced myself to take another sip from my water.

“You should kiss her on her booboo,” Connor demanded. “Kiss it and make it better. That’s what Mommy always does.”

“I’m not sure it works that way with this kind of booboo,” Levi said, chuckling without taking his eyes from mine.

Connor climbed up onto my bed on the other side and let out a beleaguered sigh, rolling his eyes. “You don’t know nothin’, do you?” Then he inched up higher on my bed and kissed me on the top of my head. “There. Now CayCay will be all better.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Yep. Now can we go feed the agilators?”

“Not tonight, buddy,” Sara said. “The bad guy’s in jail.”

He gave me a devious grin. “We could bring the agilators to jail.” Then he cackled.

Suddenly, my head didn’t hurt quite as much as it had before. Maybe the kisses really could make it all better. Just in case, I had every intention of demanding that Levi kiss me all over, as soon as they let me leave this hospital.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LEVI

LATER THAT NIGHT, they discharged Cadence from the hospital with instructions on how to take care of the staples in her head and when to follow up on the concussion with her doctor. Jonny and I both agreed that we wanted her to see the same head specialist that Jens had been working with since being out of our lineup for the last few months, dealing with the same thing.

What we didn’t agree on was where Cadence should go once they let her leave the hospital. He seemed to think that now that Guy was effectively out of the picture, she should go back to living in the spare room of his house. I wasn’t on board with that—not at all—so I enlisted help from Katie and Dani.

“The last thing Cadence needs right now is to be surrounded by kids and chaos,” I argued within the sisters’ hearing.

“There’s not chaos at my house,” Jonny replied.

At that very moment, Connor cackled as he made an attempt to climb his father.

I gave him an oh-really sort of look.

“Levi has a point,” Katie said.

Dani nodded. “But honestly, shouldn’t it be up to Cadence where she goes? I’d think she should have some say in this.”

“They said she shouldn’t make any big life decisions,” Jonny grumbled.

Both sisters rolled their eyes at the same time.

In the end, we got him to admit it should be up to Cadence. She agreed with me.

Katie and Dani came with us back to my place to help me settle her in and make sure she had everything she needed. They had packed up the duffel bag she’d taken with her to spend the weekend with them, but they didn’t stick around too long. All Cadence wanted to do was snuggle against me on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder with her eyes closed. Needless to say, I was more than all right with that arrangement. It meant she was in my arms, right where she belonged.

The next day, there were more visitors at my apartment than I’d ever had in all the time I’d been living here combined. Cadence put on a robe and a smile, but I knew better than to trust the smile. I made it a point to keep a close eye on her for signs of fatigue, ready to kick everyone out at a moment’s notice.

Midmorning, Paige brought all her girls over because Sophie needed to see for herself that Cadence was going to be fine. Her sisters kept their giggling to a minimum, thank goodness.

“Cadence?” Sophie said, holding tight to her hand.

“Hmm?”

“You can be Levi’s best girlfriend now.”

The other girls got quiet, and their expressions clearly said awwwwww, even if they didn’t voice it aloud, but Cadence sat upright too fast.

She closed her eyes and waited a moment, probably hoping the shooting pains or nausea, or whatever it was this time, would quit. Then she gave Sophie a very serious look. “I can’t be, because you are, Sophie Bug.”

Sophie shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll let you. And you can kiss him and stuff, too, as long as I can be his other girlfriend.”

Cadence spluttered and looked over to me for help.

I got up and dragged a hand through my hair, studiously avoiding her gaze. “I need to…uh…” I didn’t have the first clue what I needed to do other than get the hell out of Dodge, so I did exactly that, disappearing down the hall to my bedroom.

Because the direction of this conversation was making me think of one thing—marriage. And the more I thought of it, the less it sounded like a bad idea. Whether I wanted to pursue that or not, though, now wasn’t the time to broach the subject.

I waited about ten minutes and then headed back out, hoping they would be on a different topic by now. As soon as I reached the living room again, someone was knocking on my door.

“We should go,” Paige said, giving each of her girls a meaningful look. They blushed when they glanced up at me, so I headed over to answer the door while they busied themselves gathering their coats and purses, not to mention prying Sophie’s grip away from Cadence’s hand.

A few of the other guys’ wives were waiting on my porch. I ushered them in, and Paige herded her daughters out so they could exchange places.

The day continued in that fashion for a long time. Nearly all of the Storm WAGs dropped by, some of them bringing food and others with flowers or books to keep Cadence busy while she recovered. Soupy, Burnzie, and Jens all stopped in, since they were in town recovering from injuries. Jens and Cadence sat together in the dining room, quietly talking about concussions, while the rest of us hung out in the living room.

Early in the afternoon, Anthony and Jesse showed up to fawn over her. They hadn’t even stopped at their place after returning from their honeymoon in Hawaii. Anthony had a nice tan, but Jesse was as red as a lobster.

“Even with SPF 100,” he said. “That sun’s no joke.”

I had to fight not to laugh at him, because the guy winced with every tiny movement.

“So I guess I’m skating on my own for a while,” Anthony said.

“For a while,” Cadence agreed. “I’m hoping it won’t be a long while, though.”

“We’re not messing around with a concussion, though,” he said, ignoring her pout.

They hung around for a while but excused themselves before I was ready to kick them out.

Then Jonny and Sara came over—sans kids, thank goodness—late in the day.

“They’re with Daddy,” Sara said.

“How’d you manage that one?” I asked.

“He’s wrapped around my little finger,” she replied. “Cassidy is quickly learning how to convince her Pops to do anything she wants, too.”

Cadence raised a brow. “How’s that?”

“Kisses and giggles.”

Jonny took a seat in the recliner and stretched out his long legs. “I convinced Mom the last thing you need while you’re recovering is for all of them to come down from Winnipeg.”

Cadence let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Today has been more than enough, and that’s without Mom getting in the middle of it.”

“You look tired,” he said.

All she did to respond was nod. She felt tired to me. Once again, she was curled up against my side on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder. Usually, she kept more of her weight off me than this, but right now she’d completely collapsed into me. I didn’t mind in the least, other than recognizing just how worn out she was in order to let go like this.

“I told Jim I could rejoin the team,” he said slowly. “Play in the next game.”

Shit. I wasn’t ready to leave her again. Not yet. Why hadn’t Jim talked to me about this?

“He’s had Rachel book me a flight to join the team in Edmonton tomorrow morning.”

“Just you?” Cadence asked, inching closer to my side. I rubbed my hand up and down her arm. There was no chance I’d be allowed to miss another game now that we knew she was going to be all right. Especially not if Jonny was going back already.

“Just me. We’ll be home again the next day.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Jonny fixed me with a stare. “I told him that even though she’s going to be fine, my sister is in no condition to be left alone. That she needs you.”

I had to fight off a grin at understanding what that meant.

Jonny wasn’t going to kill me. He’d decided to accept me as part of Cadence’s world.

GRADUALLY, CADENCE WAS starting to get back to everyday life.

For the first couple of weeks after Guy’s attack, she’d spent a lot of time in dark, quiet rooms with her eyes closed. Jens, Jonny, and I had ganged up on her about going to see the concussion specialist, and she’d eventually given in. Now that spring was in the air, she was starting to act more like her normal self.

They still hadn’t cleared her to resume skating again, but some lighter exercise was allowed. On my days off when the team was in town, I tried to spend every possible moment at her side, at least as long as she wasn’t growling at me to back off.

She was a lot like Sophie, in some ways. Cadence wanted to do everything for herself and not be coddled along. I found it difficult to avoid helping her more than I should. It killed me to see her struggling to do everyday things, or becoming exhausted from what she could have handled with ease only a month ago.

Still, Cadence’s concussion had turned out to be great for me on one score—it got me out of the Light the Lamp Foundation’s annual fundraiser that had been moved back to St. Patrick’s Day, due to Noelle Kallan’s and Jessica Lynch’s pregnancies. Most of the rest of the guys were being forced to dress up as leprechauns and carry around pots of gold, but I got to spend the night at home on my couch, making out with my girlfriend in between bouts of equally silly and serious discussion.

“Do you want to have kids?” Cadence asked me, staring up into my eyes. Hers had taken on that deep, mossy green tint again.

I quirked up a grin. “With you?”

She punched my shoulder. “I mean in general. Do you see kids in your future?”

“I don’t know. Not any time soon.” Then I remembered the day the previous weekend when Sara had brought Connor and Cassidy over, and Connor had proceeded to empty every cabinet in my kitchen. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to control what sort of personality they’ll end up with, is there?”

“We’ve already got one Connor in the family. No idea if that means we’re likely to end up with another just like him, or if the opposite is true.”

“We?” I said. “In the family? You realize you’re the one saying these things, right?” Not that I minded. I kind of liked the thought that she wanted me to be part of the family. That she was thinking about kids with me in the picture was a definite bonus.

“Hmm,” was all she said, and she cut me off from making any other points by kissing me. Her tongue glided along the seam of my lips, not that I needed much prodding to open for her.

When we broke apart a bit later, she asked, “What about Jamie and Katie? Do you think they want kids?”

“Want them? Yeah. Very much so. They’ve been trying to get pregnant, but I kind of doubt if it’ll happen.”

“Because of the chemo and all?”

“The doctors tell her it isn’t likely,” I said.

“So will they adopt if they can’t do it on their own?”

“No idea.” We’d talked about them trying to get pregnant, but this wasn’t a subject I felt comfortable broaching with him. Maybe he would bring it up with me, when he was ready to talk about it again.

Cadence fell silent for a minute. She leaned back against me and we watched some of the pranks the guys were pulling on each other on the newest episode of Impractical Jokers. In no time, we were both laughing so hard she could barely breathe, and I definitely snorted a time or two.

“How’d you find this show?” she asked me when it went to commercial break.

“Koz. He thinks it’s the best thing ever. He even tried to convince me to start up our own version of it—not for TV, just for fun.”

“But you didn’t want to?”

I shook my head. “Koz’s idea of fun things to do to me would equal torture. No doubt about it. He doesn’t recognize when he takes things too far. Social cues don’t click for him.”

“Yet you’re still friends with him…”

I shrugged. “I understand him. I mean, he’s not good in social situations. He doesn’t realize how he comes across. But he’s a good guy underneath it all. A jackass, sure. But he’s a good guy.”

“Seems to be a common thread between you two.”

“What do you mean?”

She tipped her chin up to look at me. “You don’t see yourself the way the rest of the world sees you. He doesn’t understand how he presents himself. I get it. That’s all.”

“You don’t mind that I’m friends with him, do you? I swear, I won’t let him pull something with you.” Not that it was easy. I was constantly reminding the guy that he was behaving like a jerk, and that he couldn’t say certain things to people because it was rude. He just had no clue.

Cadence shook her head. “I think I love you more because of it. The same as I love you more because of how you are with Sophie. You see the good in people, even when no one else can. I only wish you could see it in yourself more often.”

“I do, though.”

“Do you?” She looked skeptical.

“I’m starting to, at least. You’ve helped with that. And Hammer. He’s constantly reminding me that I’m doing exactly what I should be, but I need to believe in myself more. It’s sinking in, a bit at a time.”

She kissed me again. This time, we both lingered over it, not wanting to separate at all.

After a few minutes, we settled back against the couch and returned our attention to the show on TV. At the next commercial break, though, I knew it was time.

I picked up the remote and muted it.

“What?” she asked.

“You never picked your card for the day.”

“Oh.” She smiled all the way up to her eyes.

I got up to collect her box, then brought it back to her. “It was running a little low. I restocked it earlier, so you might want to look through all of them before making your choice.”

“But I already know what I want,” she said.

“Just look through them.” I handed her the box and headed into the kitchen to kill a few minutes. This wouldn’t work if she didn’t pick through the cards and read all of the new ones. Once I thought enough time had passed, I slipped into the hall to retrieve the ring from my coat pocket.

Sure enough, when I returned to the living room, she’d dropped the entire box, and the cards had spread all across the floor. She had one in her hands and was staring at me with tears in her eyes.

Cadence turned the card around for me to read, not that I needed to see it to know what it said. Her mouth kept opening and closing.

“So will you?” I asked after what felt like an eternity had passed. My heart was in my throat, and I felt like I was being poked with a thousand thumbtacks in all my most sensitive places, because the wait was killing me. I opened the ring box and held it out for her.

She looked through her tears, letting one fingertip trace the stone. Then she looked up at me again. “I can’t give you an answer yet. I need to talk to Sophie first.”

“What?” That answer felt like a punch to the gut. Had I read the signs wrong? Maybe Cadence didn’t want to marry me. I could be right back to being the guy who always fucked everything up, just like that. “But Sophie already told you she’s okay with us,” I said.

“She did. I can’t explain it yet. It’s only— I need to talk to Sophie first, and I need you to be okay with that. Paige is bringing her to your game tomorrow night. And I think I’ve recovered enough I can handle being at the arena through a game.”

I thought I might puke up the contents of my stomach at any moment, but I agreed. After all, at least she hadn’t said no. That had to be a good sign. Didn’t it?

CADENCE

EVEN THOUGH I’D texted Paige this afternoon to be sure she was still planning to bring all of the girls to the game tonight, I spent about the first twenty minutes after arriving at the arena up in the owner’s box, anxiously chewing my fingernails. Then some of the other wives and girlfriends started showing up. Several of them had been trying to distract me and calm me down, but it was no use.

“You’re going to say yes, aren’t you?” Katie asked, settling into the chair next to me and giving me a kind but hopeful smile.

Dani brought over a few bottles of water and joined us. She had just come home for spring break, and there wasn’t a chance she’d pass up an opportunity to sneak another kiss with Harry. Or whatever she was planning for tonight. Who knew what it might be?

She screwed off the lid of her water and took a sip. “You’re not supposed to be making any important life decisions for a while, you know. They told you that in the hospital. Not until you’re relatively concussion-free or something.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “She was already living with him before the concussion.” Then she turned to me. “I mean, I’m not saying it isn’t a big decision. Just that you’d already made part of it well before all of this.”

“I want to say yes,” I said, hoping it would be enough for them to stop hounding me. “I need to talk to Sophie first.”

A happy softness came into Katie’s eyes. “You know she adores you, right? She’s going to be fine with this, so stop messing up your manicure.”

“Too late for that,” Dani said, giving my hands a once-over.

“They’re here.” I bounded out of my seat and caught Paige’s eye as she ushered her girls inside.

“Go do your thing so we can enjoy the game,” Katie said, shooing me away.

As it was, the guys had already finished their warm-up, and they’d be back for the national anthem and other pregame stuff any time now. I knew I’d lose all of Sophie’s attention once they skated out—she’d be too focused on Levi to pay me any mind—so I needed to get this done.

I crossed over to the girls, and Sophie flung herself into my arms.

“Are you all better now?” she demanded, squeezing so hard it was difficult to breathe. “Mom said you were coming tonight, but I didn’t believe her.”

“Not all better, but I’m getting there.” I hugged her back. “Listen, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute before the game.”

“Okay.” She smiled and put her hand in mine.

I led her to a quiet corner, completely aware that two of her older sisters were discreetly following a few steps behind. They found somewhere to sit not far from the two of us, and both of them no doubt had their ears trained on me.

I could appreciate that. Being the baby in my family, I’d spent years with Cam and my sisters constantly hovering to be sure I was all right. Sophie certainly needed it more than I did. Still, I had no intention of hurting her, and I hoped they knew that.

“Sophie Bug,” I said, sitting across from her. She grinned from ear to ear when I called her that. I only hoped she was still smiling when we were done talking. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Shoot,” she said.

“Well, you know I love Levi, right?”

“Yep. We both love him.”

“We do. We absolutely do.” This was becoming far more difficult than I’d hoped.

“We’re his best girlfriends. But you’re the one who does all the yucky kissing stuff.”

I laughed out loud. “I am, that’s true.”

“Zoe kissed her new boyfriend. I saw her last week. He put his tongue in her mouth. It was gross!” Sophie used her hands to emphasize exactly how gross she thought it was, which kept me in stitches.

“So no kissing for you,” I said. “At least not any time soon.”

“Nope. No kisses. Yucko.”

Zoe snickered behind me, but Sophie seemed oblivious to it.

“So here’s the deal,” I said, trying to bring the conversation around. “I wanted to know how you’d feel about it if I married Levi.”

“You’re gonna marry Levi?” she said so loudly that half the heads in the room turned to stare at us. Then she stood up. “Mom! Cadence is gonna marry Levi! We get to go to the wedding.”

“I guess that means you’re all right with it?” I said, laughing as she threw herself into my arms again.

“We can come to the wedding, right? ’Cause I just told Mom we could.” Then she let go of me and pulled back enough that she could look in my face. She dropped her voice low. “Zoe told me that when you get married, there’s lots of kissing. I don’t wanna kiss Levi. I just want to love him. You can do all the kissing.”

“Well, in that case”—I pinched her nose until she giggled—“I guess we’d better go ask your Mom if you can be my junior bridesmaid. If you want to be, of course.”

“Mom!” she shouted again. “I’m gonna be a bridesmaid.”

I supposed that settled that. Now all I had to do was tell Levi, and convince Sophie to bite her tongue about it long enough for me to be the one to tell him. Sophie and secrets were a complicated equation, but I had a feeling she would do her best.

BY THE TIME the guys made it upstairs after the game, my head was definitely pounding. I probably shouldn’t have come to the game tonight. Watching it on TV at home would have been much more sensible. Still, I was glad I’d come, since it had given me the opportunity to speak with Sophie face-to-face.

It didn’t matter how glad I was of it, though. The second Levi walked in and saw my face, he said, “You look miserable.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “Here I was, about to tell you that you look good enough to eat, and you tell me I look miserable. Really gives a girl a jolt of self-confidence.”

He reached for my hand to help me up. Then I thought he was going to draw me in for a hug or a kiss, but instead he lifted me into his arms. “I’ll take you home and make it up to you,” he said softly in my ear.

“Is that a promise?”

“Mm hmm. Now let’s get you out of all the noise, okay?”

I didn’t complain. Not even when he carried me over to Sophie and Paige to collect a hug from his other best girlfriend, and then proceeded to carry me out of the owner’s box, through the corridors, down the elevator, into the parking garage, and all the way to his car.

He opened the door and set me in the passenger seat, pecking me on the nose before closing the door behind me.

I pouted when he climbed in on his side.

“What’s the pout for?”

“Don’t I deserve a better kiss than that?”

“I don’t know.” He started the car and backed out of his space. “Have you done anything to deserve a better kiss?”

I shrugged and nibbled on my lower lip, doing my best to look innocent. “Well… I had my talk with Sophie tonight.”

He gave me a questioning look. “And?”

I fiddled with the zipper on my purse, drawing out my response as long as I could. “And she’s agreed that I should be the one who does all the yucky kissing stuff with you, and she knows that when you get married you do lots of yucky kissing stuff, so she’ll be my junior bridesmaid at our wedding as long as she gets to love you still.”

About halfway through my answer, Levi slammed on the brakes in the middle of the parking garage to turn and stare at me. Now his jaw was hanging slack, but his dimple was out alongside a huge grin.

“So what are you saying?” he asked.

“I guess I’m saying yes, I’ll marry you. Is that worth a better kiss?”

In answer, he leaned over, cupping a hand behind my head and drawing me in to kiss me senseless. With the way he was kissing me, if we hadn’t been in a car in the middle of the Moda Center’s parking garage, I might have straddled him and insisted he make love to me right then and there.

Good thing someone behind us laid on their horn, shocking us back to our senses.

Barely in time, too. Levi slammed his foot back down on the brake right before he hit a car that was parked along the wall. “Shit! I lifted my foot, I guess.”

My heart was about to pound through my chest, both from the exhilaration of telling the man I loved with all my heart that I would be his wife and from the adrenaline of nearly crashing into a parked vehicle.

Levi put both hands on the steering wheel and took a couple of deep breaths. The car behind us—the one whose driver had honked—pulled around to pass us. Levi rolled down his window and waved in thanks.

It turned out to be Koz, who rolled down his window and flipped us the bird. “Get a room, fuck face,” he shouted before zooming off ahead of us.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Levi said. He rolled up his window again and drove us back to his apartment as fast as he could without breaking too many laws.

We were barely inside before he had me pinned against the wall, kissing me with an intensity that cleared my headache and melted any resistance I might have otherwise felt. It had been a long time since we’d had good, frantic sex—ever since my trip to the hospital, Levi had been treating me as carefully as ever—but I was ready for it. I wanted him any way I could have him right now. Maybe even on the kitchen counter again. I was due for a new sex injury or two.

I started ripping at my clothes, but he put his hands on mine, stilling me.

“What?” I said, searching his eyes.

“My turn to ask for what I want.”

The way he said it, staring at me with such heat and desire turning his baby blues to the same color as the midnight sky, left me shaking with the need to do whatever he wanted from me.

“Okay,” I said, my voice quivering. “What do you want?”

“You.” He twirled a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Naked. In my bed. Letting me make slow, sweet love to you and watching you come again and again.”

I would have had to be out of my mind to argue with that suggestion.

Needless to say, I didn’t.

Later, still spooning, with Levi’s arm draped heavily around my waist, I twisted around in his arms until I could tease the few bits of hair on his chest. He kissed me, as slowly and languorously as he’d made love to me, and I fell a little deeper in love with him.

“I forgot something,” he said, rolling away from me.

I instantly felt the loss of him—his heat, his strength.

He rolled back almost immediately, with the ring box in his hand. “You ready to put this on?”

I grinned and took the ring out. Even in the moonlight coming in through the window, the diamond glinted. “It’s beautiful,” I said, sliding it onto my finger. Then I kissed him again, coming around to fully face him.

He wrapped both arms around me, drawing me deeper into his embrace. “Mischief managed?”

“And then some.”

EPILOGUE

LEVI

“EVERYONE SETTLE DOWN for a few more minutes,” Bergy said at what we’d all assumed was the end of our meeting. We’d had an optional skate today, as it was getting close to the end of the season, and we were still really banged up. At this point, rest was easily ten times more important than practice. Still, we’d just had a long film session, and most of us were restless to get away from the team facilities and enjoy the rest of the day off.

I shifted in my seat, itching to get home and see what card Cadence had selected from her box today. I hoped she wanted to go for a walk in the rose gardens or something like that. Spring had arrived, along with all sorts of new life. Not only that, but the weather was amazing today. I was itching to get out in it, and I had no doubt she must be, too.

The doctors had cleared her to start skating again late last week, so she’d been easing her way back into the everyday. Instead of rushing home to find out how I could spoil her today, now I had to stay until Lord only knew how late.

“We’re not going to keep you boys too much longer, but Jim has something to announce that you all need to hear.”

I sat up straighter in my seat as our general manager came into the room. I wasn’t the only one suddenly shifting and trying to look more alive.

He’d loosened his tie but otherwise looked the same as we ever saw him, complete with the bifocals perched halfway down his nose. He smiled when he came into the room. Anne Dennison followed him in, which was particularly odd, along with Rachel Campbell, which wasn’t odd in the least. Rachel had a stack of manila folders in her arms, which Soupy rushed over to take from her. He set them on the table up front and grabbed a quick kiss before returning to his seat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ghost winking at Anne. She looked to be intentionally avoiding making eye contact with him.

Must be serious, then, whatever was going on here.

“Bergy’s right,” Jim said. “I’m not going to keep you long, but I’ve got a very important announcement to make, and there’s no better time than when everyone’s gathered together like this. I asked Anne to join me because she’s going to play a big role in what we’ve got in store for all of you. As you’re probably already aware, close to half the other teams in the league already have behind-the-scenes web series that they produce and air on their websites. We’ve decided it’s time that the Portland Storm join that trend. It’s a great way for our fans and season ticket holders to see more of the inner workings of the organization. It’s also a way for their families to become part of our family. We’ve brought Anne on board to produce the series, so she’s going to be far more involved in your lives than she’s ever been before. She’ll be traveling with the team when we go on the road. She and her crew will be filming practices, film sessions, time spent with the trainers and doctors. She might ask for permission to follow you home some days to see what your life is like away from the team. She’ll be involved when we participate in charitable events. Anne is going to be the fly on the wall as far as everything to do with this organization, and I fully expect each of you to cooperate as much as possible.

“Rachel’s brought in all the consent forms that need to be read and signed. Your contract with the Portland Storm organization obligates you to participate as we see fit. However, if we’re going to include your families, we’ll need consent to use that footage.”

Hammer shifted in his seat up front. “So if my ex won’t consent to my kids being involved…?”

“If we don’t have consent from all required parties, then we won’t use it,” Anne assured him. “That said, we’re hoping that as many of you who are willing and able will allow us to involve your friends and families. What Jim said is exactly what I’m hoping to show the world. I want them to see that this team is a family. Maybe a big and sometimes dysfunctional family, but it’s all a big unit. Everyone comes together.”

Hammer nodded that he understood.

A few of the other guys asked questions about whether this meant they needed to be sure they were fully clothed when the cameras were around, and what would happen if they cursed in the middle of an interview. Anne answered all of their questions to the best of her ability.

“This isn’t about changing who you are or what you do,” she said in closing. “It’s about capturing each of you as you already are. So be yourselves.”

Jim took off his glasses and folded them, holding them in his left hand. “If that’s all the questions you all have right now, I’ll let you get out of here. Except for 501,” he said, catching my eye. “I need a word before you go. Can you join me up in my office? As for the rest of you, Rachel’s got the forms she needs from each of you.”

What the hell was this about? I didn’t have a clue why Jim needed to see me, and I wasn’t sure whether it would be something good, bad, or indifferent.

Most of the guys got up and flooded toward the front of the room so they could collect their paperwork. Ghost headed straight for Anne to flirt with her some more. The guy couldn’t seem to help himself.

“The fuck did you do wrong?” Koz asked from behind me, kicking the back of my chair. “Heading to the principal’s office.”

“Might be he did something right,” Hammer said. He winked at me. “Go on. Go find out.”

There wasn’t any point in sitting around and wondering, so I headed out and met Jim on the way up the stairs.

“You’re due for a new contract this summer,” he said, smiling.

“Oh. Yeah.” That was the last thing I’d expected this to be about. “I thought you’d just call up my agent and talk to him about that, though.” I was still a restricted free agent. Basically, that meant I had almost zero negotiating power and had to take what they offered me or else not be eligible to play. Jim usually handled all the RFA contracts directly through the agents, and almost never while the season was still in full swing.

Jim opened the door to his office and let me precede him in. He took a seat behind his desk and set his glasses down in front of him. “I will be calling him, but I wanted to see where your head is first. I assume you like playing here in Portland.”

“Love it. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Especially not now that Cadence and I were an item.

“That’s good. The coaches and I have been talking a lot about you lately. We’ve all noticed how much you’ve improved this season. You’re starting to become the player we all knew you had it in you to be, and we want to make sure you stick around for a long time.”

“A long time?” My tone was half-skeptical, half-hopeful.

“We’ll have to work that part out with your agent, but I was hoping you’d be amenable to a long-term deal. Something in the six-to-eight-year range, with pay that would reflect the fact that we’d be eating into your unrestricted free agency years. Is that something you’d be open to?”

Open to? I was about to jump out of my chair, that was how much I wanted what he was saying to be real. “I think that sounds like something we can probably work out,” I said, though, trying to maintain my cool.

“Excellent.” Jim folded his hands into a steeple and gave me an appraising look. “I know you’ve struggled with believing in yourself sometimes, but I think you should know that none of us has had that same difficulty. We want you to continue your growth here. We want to see you become one of the cornerstones of this organization for a long time to come.”

We talked for about five more minutes before he shook my hand and ushered me out of his office with the promise that he’d be getting in touch with my agent sometime in the next week so they could start hammering out the particulars.

I thought about veering back toward the locker room to share the news with Jamie or Hammer, but changed my mind. There was no one I wanted to tell more than Cadence, so I headed straight home instead. When I opened the front door, I was greeted by the smell of banana bread that had just come out of the oven. That wasn’t even the best part. Cadence was in the kitchen wearing nothing but a T-shirt she must have dug out of the bottom of one of my dresser drawers. It was huge on her, almost like a dress, and her wet hair had darkened some of the fabric. She had headphones on and was humming along and dancing in the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that I’d caught her like this.

I snuck up behind her, careful not to alert her to my presence, and grabbed her by the waist.

Bad move. Seriously bad move. I should’ve thought that one through a bit more, but I was too caught up in my own excitement.

She used one of her Krav Maga elbow jabs and got me right under the ribs at the same time as she spun around, readying her leg to kick.

“It’s just me!” I backed away and dropped my hands in front of my balls for what feeble protection they could provide.

She stopped just barely in time to avoid kneeing my nuts, eyes as wild as her hair. Then, once I saw the recognition filter into her eyes, she followed it up with a sound punch to my ribs. “You scared me.” She ripped the earbuds out and flung her iPod on the counter.

“So I noticed.” I rubbed the places she’d just left bruised.

“I guess I should kiss you and make it better, then, shouldn’t I?” She’d flipped that switch again, only this time, instead of going from adorable to seductive, she went from fierce to sex kitten. She licked her lips, and I imagined that tongue landing on me.

I was half tempted to let her go ahead and kick me in the nuts if it meant she intended to kiss me there and make it better. Probably a bad course of action. That didn’t mean I shouldn’t take her up on what she’d already suggested, though.

“How about we start there?” I said. “And then I can fill you in on the new contract Jim wants to offer me. We can work our way around to how your day’s been, and finish up with you picking a card from your box.”

“Hmm…” She slipped into my arms and stretched onto her toes so she could put her arms around my neck. “So it sounds like it’s been a good day all around.”

“Oh, has it?” I dropped my head to steal a kiss, letting my hands roam all over her back and firm ass. I’d been right when I’d guessed there wasn’t anything under that shirt.

“Mm hmm,” she murmured against my lips. “Anthony and I just booked our first competition for next season, and we got the rights to use that song I told you about. The one by The End of All Things.”

I nipped her nose. “So all systems are go for skating again, then?”

“Yes. And Dani Weber agreed to design our costumes for next season.” She slid her hands along my abs and tugged the shirt up from my waistband.

“Did she?”

“Mm hmm.” Cadence got her hands under my shirt and splayed them over my ribs, exploring in a way she had to know would drive me wild. “And that’s not all.”

“No?” I followed her lead and tugged up the hem of the T-shirt she was wearing. “What else?”

“She’s going to make me a wedding dress. She said once she finishes this semester at school, she’s moving back to Portland to start up her own fashion line, and she wants to dress me. Free advertising or something.”

I picked her up and set her on the kitchen island, tugging my T-shirt off her as she worked on the fly of my jeans.

“Just promise me something,” I said.

“Anything.”

I reached up and pulled my own shirt over the top of my head, tossing it on the floor to join the other items we’d already shed. “Swear you’re not going to let Jesse take over the planning of the wedding.”

She laughed as her hand wrapped around me, her eyes dancing like flames. “Do you really think either of us is going to have any say in it, other than the date? Sara, Katie, Laura, and Dani have already dug in their heels about the venue. Mom and my sisters are setting up Skype calls with them to talk details, leaving me out of it. Your mother is emailing them constantly with suggestions and questions. Jesse’s the last thing we need to worry about with all of this going on.”

“Hmm. I see your point.”

She put her hand on the back of my head and dragged me down for a kiss, her tongue delving inside my mouth to dual with mine. When she backed away, she said, “I don’t care, though. You know why?” Her hands both went beneath the waistband of my boxers, and she shoved them down my hips to get me as naked as she was.

“Why?”

“As long as I’m married to you, the rest doesn’t matter. The wedding is one day. The marriage is forever.”

I dug a condom out of the drawer we’d stashed them in, since we tended to end up having sex everywhere but in bed most of the time. “Forever’s a long time,” I said, rolling it into place.

Cadence drew me between her thighs and welcomed me in, holding me right where I belonged. “It’s a long time. But not nearly long enough.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Catherine Gayle is a USA Today bestselling author of more than thirty contemporary hockey romance and Regency-set historical romance novels and novellas. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

If you enjoyed this book and want to know when more like it will be available, be sure to sign up for Catherine’s mailing list. You can find out more on her website, her blog, at The Sin Bin, at Facebook, on Twitter, at Instagram, and at Goodreads. If you want to see some of her cats’ antics and the occasional video update from Catherine, visit her YouTube account.

LOSING AN EDGE is Book 13 in the Portland Storm hockey romance series written by USA Today bestselling author Catherine Gayle. If you enjoy it, look for the other books in the series.

Join Catherine’s mailing list to receive ICE BREAKER, a Portland Storm short story prequel that you can’t get anywhere else.

Want to join in the Portland Storm discussion? Join the Facebook reader group at Cat’s House.

ALSO BY CATHERINE GAYLE

BREAKAWAY

ON THE FLY

TAKING A SHOT

LIGHT THE LAMP

DELAY OF GAME

DOUBLE MAJOR

IN THE ZONE

HOLIDAY HAT TRICK

COMEBACK

DROPPING GLOVES

HOME ICE

MISTLETOE MISCONDUCT

LOSING AN EDGE

GAME BREAKER

DEFENSIVE ZONE

POWER PLAY

The Tulsa Thunderbirds series is a spin-off of sexy hockey romance.

BURY THE HATCHET

SMOKE SIGNALS

GHOST DANCE

RITES OF PASSAGE

RAIN DANCE

For Catherine’s historical romances, please visit the historical romance page on her website.

DIRTY PLAYERS DUET #1

Let the games begin...

Runaway Zelda Wilder will do whatever it takes to secure a better life for her and her sister Ava.  Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate will do whatever it takes to preserve his small country.

When Zee is blackmailed into helping a vengeful statesman take down Rowan, she never expects she'll be pulled into a web of lies and international intrigue--much less that she'll find herself falling for Cal, Rowan's "playboy" younger brother.

Ava's no help, as she finds quiet walks in the moonlight discussing poetry and leadership with the brooding future king irresistible. Even more irresistible is kissing his luscious lips.

They're in over their heads, and the more time passes, the more danger the sisters are in. Shots are fired, and it's soon clear even a prince might not be able to rescue these players.

Cinderella meets Ocean's Eleven in this CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE DUET, featuring secrets, lies, royal high jinks, scams and double-crosses; breathless, swooning lust, cocky princes, dominant alpha future-kings, and crafty courtiers, who are not always what they seem.

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For Mr. TL, my favorite movie buddy,

who introduced me to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Prince & The Player

Copyright © TLM Productions LLC, 2016

Printed in the United States of America.

Cover design by Hang Le

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

PROLOGUE

Zelda Wilder

MY LEGS ARE WET. Thunder rolls low in a steel-grey sky, and the hiss of warm rain grows louder. I lean further sideways into the culvert, closer against my little sister Ava’s body, and grit my teeth against the hunger pain twisting my stomach. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping tonight.

Reaching up, I rub my palm against the back of my neck, under the thick curtain of my blonde hair. A shudder moves at my side, and I realize Ava’s crying. We’re packed tight in this concrete ditch, but I twist my body around to face her.

Clearing my throat, I force my brows to unclench. I force my voice to be soothing instead of angry. “Hey,” I whisper softly. “What’s the matter, Ava-bug?”

Silence greets me. She’s small enough to be somewhat comfortable in our hideout. Her knees are bent, but unlike me, they’re not shoved up into her nose. Still, she leans forward to press her eyes against the backs of her hands. Her glossy brown hair is short around her ears and falls onto her cheeks.

Our parents were classic movie buffs, naming her after Ava Gardner and me after Scott Fitzgerald’s crazy wife Zelda. We pretty much lived up to our monikers, since my little sister wound up having emerald green cat eyes and wavy dark hair. She’s a showstopper whereas I’m pretty average—flat blue eyes and dishwater blonde. So far no signs of schizophrenia (har har), but you can bet your ass I can keep up with the boys in everything, which brings us to this lowly state.

“Come on, now,” I urge. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

Her dark head moves back and forth. “I’m sorry.” Her soft whisper finally answers my question. “This is all my fault.”

“What?” Reaching for her skinny shoulder, I pull her up. She’s the only person I’ve ever known who looks pretty even when she’s crying. “Why would you say something like that?”

“I tried cutting my hair off. I tried not brushing my teeth—”

“Don’t be doing shit like that!” I snap, turning to face front. The rain keeps splashing on my side getting me even wetter. “We can’t afford a dentist.”

“I don’t know what to do, Zee.”

Pressing my lips together, I clench my fists on top of my knees. “We ain’t going back into no foster home. I’ll take care of us.”

“But how?” Her voice breaks as it goes high in a whisper.

“Hell, I don’t know, but I got all night to figure it out.” I press my front teeth together and think. We’re not that far from being legal. I’m seventeen, but Ava’s only fifteen. Looking at the sand on my shoes, I get an idea. “We got one thing going for us.”

“What’s that?” My little sister sniffs, and I hear the tiniest flicker of hope in her voice. She’ll trust whatever I tell her, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

“We live in the greatest state to be homeless. Sunny Florida.”

“Okay?” Her slim brows wrinkle, and the tears in her eyes make them look like the ocean.

“We don’t have to worry about getting cold or anything. We don’t have to worry about snow…” I’m thinking hard, assembling a plan in my mind. “During the day, we fly under the radar—keep your head down, don’t attract attention. I’ll see what I can find us to eat. At night we can sleep on the beach. Or here, or hell, maybe one of these rich assholes forgets to lock his boathouse. Have you seen how nice some of these boathouses are? They’re like regular houses!”

Her eyes go round with surprise. “Why are they like that?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Rich people are crazy. Some rich men even get their nails polished, and they aren’t even gay!”

Air bursts through her lips, and she starts to laugh. I smile and pull her arm so she can lie down with her face on my bony, empty stomach. “Now get some sleep.”

The rain is tapering off, and my little sister is laughing instead of crying. I don’t have any idea if anything I just said is possible, but I’m going to find out. I’ll be damned if I let another foster asshole touch her. It’s what Mom would expect me to do. I’m the biggest. I have to take care of us, and I intend to do it.

Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate

The navy fabric of my father’s uniform coat stretches taut across his shoulders. It’s the tangible warning sign his anger is rising, and the person addressing him would do well to shut up.

“Monagasco has been an independent nation for eight hundred years.” His voice is a rolling growl pricking the tension in my chest.

The last time my father started on our nation’s history, the offending party was thrown out of the meeting room by the neck. He’s getting too old for such violent outbursts. I worry about his heart… and my future. My freedom, more specifically.

“I think what Hubert was trying to say—” The Grand Duke, my mother’s brother Reginald Winchester, tries to intervene.

“I KNOW what Hubert is trying to say!” My father (a.k.a., The King) cuts him off. “He thinks we should cede our southwestern territory to Totrington! Even though their raiders and bandits have pillaged our farms along the border for generations!”

Leaning back in my heavy oak chair, I steeple my fingers before my lips and don’t say what I want. As crown prince, I’ve attended these meetings for three years, since I turned nineteen. I’ve learned when to speak and when to discuss things in private with my father.

I could say I agree with Reggie, we should consider a trade agreement with our neighboring nation-state, but I’m more concerned about the King’s health. I’ve never seen him so worked up before.

“Independence at all costs,” he continues, his naturally pink cheeks even pinker. “We will not give those savages an open door to the control of Monagasco.”

“No one’s suggesting—”

“Shut UP, Hubert!” My father shouts, and I glance down to avoid meeting the earl’s offended eyes.

Hubert’s sniveling voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I privately enjoy my father chastising him. I’ve always suspected him of conspiring with Wade Paxton, Totrington’s newly elected Prime Minister, from the time when Wade was only a member of their parliament.

“I’ve had enough of this.” My father walks to the window and looks out. “I’d like to speak to Rowan in private. You can all go.”

“Of course.” Reginald stands at once, smoothing his long hands down the front of his dark coat.

Tall and slender, with greying black hair and a trim mustache, my uncle embodies the Charmant line of our family. I inherited their height and Norman complexion. My father, by contrast, is a Tate through and through. Short, pink, and round.

As soon as the room is cleared, he stalks back to the table, still brooding like a thunderstorm. “Reggie’s in league with them as well,” he growls.

“Not necessarily.” My voice is low and level, and I hope appeasing. “My uncle does have an idea, and of the two, it’s the least offensive. Hubert would combine our countries and walk away—”

“Exactly!” Father snaps, turning to face me, blue eyes blazing. “My own cousin, born and reared in our beautiful land. He’s been promised a place in the new government, I’ll bet you. They’ll throw the lot of us out—behead us if they can.”

“I’m pretty sure beheading is no longer tolerated in western civilization.”

“Harumph.” He’s still angry, but at least he’s calmer. “It would break your mother’s heart. The Charmants founded Monagasco. We can’t let those Twatringtons in.”

His use of the unofficial nickname for our southwest neighbor makes me grin. Rising from my chair, I brace his shoulder in a firm grasp.

“We won’t let that happen.” Our blue eyes meet. It’s the only feature we share. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but he makes up for it in stubbornness. “We’re flush with reserves, and the economy can change at any time.”

His thick hand covers mine. “I’m doing my best to leave you a strong country to rule. The country I inherited.”

“We would do well to reduce our dependence on foreign oil reserves.” He starts to argue, but I hold up a hand as I head for the door. He’s finally calm, and I’m not interested in riling him up again. “In any event, you’ll be around long enough to see the tides turn. Now get some rest.” I’m at the enormous wooden door of the war room. “We can’t solve all our problems in one day.”

“Goodnight, son.”

The tone in his voice causes me to look back. He’s at the window, and a troubled expression mars his profile. A shimmer of concern passes through my stomach, but I dismiss it, quietly stepping into the dim hallway. It’s enormous and shrouded with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries.

I grew up playing in these halls, hiding from my mother and chasing my younger brother. I’m tired and ready for bed when the sound of hushed voices stops me in my tracks.

“Pompous ass. He’s going to kill himself with these outbursts. We need to be ready to move when that happens.” The glee in Hubert’s sniveling voice revives the anger in my chest. I step into the shadows to listen.

“By climbing into bed with Wade Paxton?”

I recognize my uncle’s voice, and my jaw clenches. Is Father right? Is Reginald conspiring with that worm against the crown?

“Wade Paxton would unite the kingdoms and make us both leaders in the new government.”

“Wade Paxton is a thug.”

“Not very respectful verbiage for the Prime Minister of Totrington, also known as our future partner.”

“He’s no better than one of those mob bosses on American television. Savage.” Reggie’s voice is laced with snobbery. “He’d tax the people and change the very nature of Monagasco.”

Hubert’s tone is undeterred. “Some things might change, but as leaders, you and I can help maintain the best parts, the heart of the nation. Once Philip is out of the way, of course, which could be sooner than we think.”

My fists tighten at my sides. I’m ready to step out of the shadows and shake Hubert’s traitorous neck until his teeth rattle. The only thing stopping me is my desire to hear the extent of this treachery.

“You’re right about one thing,” Reggie says. “Philip’s health is tenuous. We need to be prepared to act should a crisis arise.”

“What about Rowan? If he’s not on our side, we could end up in the same position—and with a much younger king to wait out.”

“Possibly.” My uncle pauses, and I feel the heat rising around my collar.

“Wade has a plan for managing such a contingency. Should Rowan prove… difficult.”

“I’m sure he does,” Reggie scoffs. “And Cal? Shall we wipe out the entire Tate line?”

Hubert’s voice is low and wicked. “Perhaps being in league with a ‘thug’ as you put it has its advantages.”

How dare these bastards! What they’re saying is high treason! My body is poised to move when Reggie’s words freeze me in place.

“I’m sure Wade’s tactics won’t prove necessary. When the time comes to do the right thing, we can count on Rowan.”

Count on Rowan? Is it possible he thinks I would even consider a merger with Twatrington? Their voices recede down the corridor as my level of disgust and loyalty to my father rises. The king has had a difficult evening. I’ll let him rest tonight, but I will present him with this conspiracy first thing tomorrow. Reggie is right. When the time comes, I will do the right thing.

Looking back, I had no idea the time would come in less than twenty-four hours…

1

SURVIVAL SKILLS

Zelda - Six years later…

LIFTING MY CHIN, I shove my pale-blonde hair behind my ear and straighten my shoulders as I enter the Hard Rock casino in Hollywood, Florida, five miles north of Miami.

The carpet is a dizzying pattern of swirls and diamonds, driving my eyes up and through the large, open gambling space. Neon lights chase their tails around the metal slot machines, and the musical tones battle like dueling carousels.

Since smoking is banned in bars and public spaces, the air is clear. I’ve only been to one casino where it wasn’t, and I went home reeking of cigarette smoke. Now all I catch is the faint scent of the citrus used to invigorate gamblers and make them stay longer. No clocks are anywhere to be seen, of course, but I know it’s nine, the precise hour I’m scheduled to enter this establishment and make my way to the roulette wheel.

My flesh-toned, halter-top pantsuit is covered in tiny silver beads that shimmer in the flashing lights, and I carry a white alligator-embossed clutch. My hair is arranged in long, sixties-inspired curls, and my makeup is smoky cat-eye. A gold cuff and large yellow-topaz earrings complete the look. I’m somewhere between a Bond girl and Charlie’s Angels, and as I walk, I mentally note the positioning of the security guards.

South Florida isn’t known for its gambling scene, and the Hard Rock is a small casino. It’s perfect for the scam we have in mind. I count only four men in suits with curly earpieces dotted around the space. They’re casual and easily distracted by a flirtatious wink or a nod.

Seth is five minutes behind me. He’s the mastermind of this gig. We’re running a short con, but if things go as planned, it’ll yield enough payoff to keep the three of us in hundies for the next few months. Long enough for him to come up with another scheme far away from the crystal shores of Miami.

This job only works once, so we have to get it right the first time or we’re done.

An enthusiastic round of applause breaks from one of the card tables in the back corner, where I can only assume a patron won a minor victory over the House. It will soon be gobbled back up in his or her losses. Just as I pass the bar in the center of the room, I see Ava. She’s in a short black strapless dress that has a sheer panel over her slim, elegant shoulders.

Her long dark hair is styled in a low ponytail that hangs in a dramatic curl over one shoulder, and a grey-haired man in a tux is leaning toward her grinning like a wolf. I spot his telltale earpiece, and a smile lifts the corner of my mouth. Good work, Little Sister.

She blinks those emerald eyes at him, and I watch as her slim hand gingerly touches his forearm. She’ll keep him distracted for the next several minutes, and if she’s feeling brave, he just might discover his watch or gold cufflinks are gone an hour after she leaves him. He’ll never suspect her. Who would suspect her angelic sweetness hides devilishly light fingers?

Only two other patrons are at the roulette table when I arrive. One is an elderly woman with silver-blue hair and a navy sweatshirt with “May contain alcohol” plastered across the front in white.

She’s throwing chips around, vaguely distracting the dealer. Across from her is a guy who looks barely twenty-one. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt with a bit of shimmer in the fabric. As I open my clutch, he gives me a sly grin, but I turn to the stocky casino worker. His hairline is receding, and he wears an ill-fitting cummerbund.

“Fifty in dollar chips.” I pass him a crisp bill.

He slides me fifty round blue plaques the size of my palm, and I glance at the sign telling me it’s a dollar table. I’ll have enough time to lose a few rounds before Seth appears and the con begins.

My heart beats faster. The rush of what we’re doing is more powerful than any drug, and the fine hairs on my shoulders tweak when I spot Seth’s auburn head across the room at the entrance. He’s dressed in a beige linen jacket and black slacks, and to complete the look, he’s added a pair of fake horn-rimmed glasses—very hipster.

Reaching forward, the beleaguered dealer starts the wheel, and everyone places his or her bets. It’s a double-zero table, which is the least favorable to gamblers, so I place two corner bets and five chips on the black. The little ball clangs into play, spinning faster than the eye can track it around the wheel.

“No more bets!” The dealer calls, passing his hand over the table.

With a clatter, the silver ball shoots toward the center of the wheel, bouncing up once again to the rim before landing solidly on seventeen black.

“I WON ONE!” The old lady screams, pushing both arms in the air. She does a little shimmy as the chips are quickly slid away and the winners paid. “I WON ONE! Did you see that???”

I smile, not bothering to point out I doubled my stack of five. My job is not to attract attention, although with the way this crowd is dressed, it’s practically impossible. Mental note: Hollywood, Florida, is not Reno, Nevada. Dress down.

“I’m feeling lucky tonight!” Granny doubles her stack of chips on a corner bet, and I leave my ten on black.

Seth is at the table now, and he nods all around. “Mind if I join y’all?” His voice is loud, and his accent is exaggerated.

I don’t engage. My role is that of cool disinterest, and I reach down to adjust my gold cuff bracelet. If all goes as planned, he’s about to hit a winning streak.

“Y’all from around here?” He grins big at the old woman and the boy. “I’m from a little ole town in Kentucky.”

“I’m from Dallas!” The lady answers equally loudly. “My church group took a bus all the way here!”

Well, hallelujah. I look over my shoulder as Seth monopolizes the table. I don’t like leaving Ava alone in skeezy joints like this. A server appears, mistaking me for wanting a drink.

“Gin and tonic,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice low.

“It’s my birthday!” The young guy loudly announces. I’m beginning to think he may contain alcohol as well.

“Well, I declare, let me guess!” Seth is really laying it on thick. “Twenty one?”

“That’s right!” Baby’s ears pink, and he glances at me again.

My eyebrows rise when he gives me another grin coupled with a wink this time. Dream on, little man.

“Dealer, here’s a hyundai!” Seth announces, passing him a hundred dollar bill, and I almost do laugh at that intentional screw-up. “Mr. Bourie says to get in and get out fast. That’s the way to play roulette, right? Win quick and walk away?”

“Who’s Mr. Bourie?” Grandma asks.

“Oh, he wrote the book on how to play roulette and win. Steve Bourie. You have to look him up.”

The dealer’s stoic face doesn’t change as he pushes Seth’s hundred into the drop box with a clear plastic paddle. A hundred plastic chips are shoved across to my covert partner in crime.

“He actually says not to play roulette at all…” Seth continues getting cozy with the old lady.

I reach down to adjust my gold cuff when a deep command from over my shoulder startles me.

“Fifty,” the accented voice says, and a tall, elegant-looking gentleman in an expensive blazer leans beside me. I glance up as he straightens. He slides a long black wallet into his coat pocket, and a gold pinky ring catches my eye.

He smiles, and I blink away, trying not to move my panicked gaze to Seth. He hasn’t broken character yet, but with this intruder right behind me, it’s going to be impossible to activate the switch without being seen.

A tremor of fear moves through my chest, and a tiny bead of sweat tickles down the line in the center of my back. I’m breathing faster, and I reach up to push another strand of hair behind my ear.

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, mademoiselle.” The older gentleman’s voice is right beside me, over my shoulder.

“Not at all.” I’m irritated by his proximity, and I shift to the right to get away from him. The only problem is I’m now closer to Birthday Boy.

Shit. Our plan is coming apart.

“Why you sound like a foreign gentleman,” Seth says, attracting my unwanted tablemate’s attention. “Where does one get an accent like that?”

“My accent is Monagascan, monsieur.”

“I’ll be damned. I didn’t know they spoke French in Madagascar!”

“No, monsieur, it’s Monagasco.”

Seth has the man’s complete attention as I slide all my winnings onto the black space. The dealer passes his hand over the table.

“No more bets!” he calls.

I dip my finger inside my gold cuff and press the tiny button hidden inside. The silver ball immediately drops, bounces, and then swerves into the tray labeled fifteen black.

“Holy shit! Ho-lee shit!” Seth hops off his stool and does a little jig. “I WON!”

“SO DID I!!!” Granny looks like she might have a heart attack. She’s holding her chest heaving hard, and I notice a security agent drifting to where we’re sitting.

We only have one more spin before we have to get the hell out of here. Odds against roulette players add up faster than any other game in the casino. Our winning streak can’t last long, or we’ll be detained and questioned.

“I feel as if I’m playing the wrong end of the table,” Frenchie says, sliding closer to me.

I’m trapped with nowhere to go. Another scoot to my right, and I’ll be in Mr. Twenty-One’s lap. Leaving my two hundred chips on black, I attempt to angle my body so it’s away from Frenchie’s line of sight.

Movement behind the dealer causes me to glance up. Security has his eyes on me. Now I’m really freaking.

Seth happily moves all his chips to the other end of the table. “Mr. Bourie says the odds build up fast on roulette.” I watch as he places two huge corner bets.

In a subtle movement, I pass all my chips over to red before quickly returning to my contorted state. I turn my body so I can get my finger inside my gold cuff without being seen.

“No more bets!” The dealer says.

Security’s eyes are fixed on me, and they narrow. They follow a burning line down my bare shoulder, along my arm, to my wrist, when all of a sudden a slim, olive hand appears on his lapel. His eyes leave me fast and then widen as Ava steps between us, her beautiful face lined with worry.

“Excuse me!” I can just hear her dewy purr. My little sister has perfected the art of innocent tease. “I’m so worried. I seem to have lost my handbag, and it has all my chips in it… my phone…”

Seth’s eyes are on me, his hillbilly pretense gone. Ava’s handled security, now I have to finish this job. The ball is slowing on the track, and I pray I haven’t missed my chance. My breath stills as I activate the device hidden in my bracelet. At once the ball drops, bounces up again, and hovers in air. It seems to wobble uncertainly. Sickness fills the pit of my stomach. A roaring noise is in my ears.

All this work, and we’re going to lose every last…

Thirty-two red.

“WE DID IT!” The old lady shrieks. “We WON! WE WON!!!!”

She’s jumping up and down, hugging Seth so hard his glasses bounce on his nose. He’s grinning, eyes sparkling.

“God Damn!” Seth slaps the table. “I’m hotter than a Billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch!”

I do my best not to burst out laughing as the silver ball rides around in a circle sitting on that red thirty-two. I’m just about to stand when something icy-cold and hard slips between my breasts.

“Oh!” I jump up, clutching my chest.

“Mon dieu! I’m so sorry!” The Frenchman steps back, facing me.

My eyes widen, and I hold my arms tight at the top of my ribcage. “What the HELL did you do?”

His dark brows furrow. “I must have lost my grip… The excitement.” He seems to be trying not to laugh.

My arms are tight around my torso when I turn to the dealer. “Cash me out.” I snap.

The man quickly slides my chips away and passes me a five hundred dollar bill. With one hand, I slip it into my white clutch and start to leave, but the Frenchman’s fingers close like a steel trap around my forearm.

“I’m so sorry, mademoiselle, but that was a thousand-dollar plaque I dropped!”

I can feel the hard piece of plastic wedged between my skin and the side of my bra, and I’m holding it tight with my arms so it doesn’t fall out.

“Then you should’ve held onto it better.” I yank my arm from his grip and walk quickly away from the table.

In the background I notice Seth and the old lady shaking hands and cashing out. Seth says something about Mr. Bourie advising when to walk away, and the old woman nods, taking his arm. The dealer’s face is confusion mixed with embarrassment, but I don’t have time to waste. I’m across the gambling area nearing the exit with the foreigner hot on my heels.

“Mademoiselle… Miss! Wait!” He’s after me, and I see security closing in around him.

“Take it easy, pal.” A hearty growl cuts through the din, and I’m feeling more confident than ever I’m getting out of here with a thousand-dollar bonus.

“You don’t understand,” he continues. “That lady. She has my money!”

Ava is at the door waiting for me, her eyes round. I’m doing my best not to run when I hear the same meaty voice calling after me.

“Lady! Stop!” My shoulders tense. “Stop her,” the guard says, and at once, another man in a suit steps into my path, blocking my way.

I deflect, taking a step to the side. “Oh!” I cry softly.

“Hang on a second, sister.” The beefy security guard holds both hands up to the sides. “We just need to ask you a question.”

My sister gives me a subtle nod and immediately disappears into the coatroom. The other guard and the Frenchman join us.

“Forgive me,” the man says. “I… er… how do you say? I dropped my chip in her… er… décolletage?”

“Miss,” the guard behind me says, “do you have the man’s money?”

I turn to face them, but I’m not backing down. “I don’t know what he dropped down my top.” I infuse my voice with venom, narrowing my eyes. “But I can assure you, I’m not allowing him to retrieve it!”

“Er… no. Of course not.” The older gentleman glances to the guards. “However, if you could perhaps step into the dressing room?”

He gestures toward the coatroom, and I make a show of exhaling deeply. “If you insist.” Squaring my shoulders, I step toward the narrow space where Ava waits.

“But… no. Excuse me?” He calls. I pause, but don’t turn. “Would you mind leaving your bag with the guard?”

My head snaps, and I look over my shoulder at him. “What do you think I’m going to do? Hide it? I’ve already said you dropped something in my top.”

“It was a thousand dollar plaque, Mademoiselle.”

“So you say. I don’t know what it was,” I snap.

“I can assure you it was.”

Flashing my eyes at the guards, they both shrug. “If you don’t mind handing me your purse. I won’t open it.”

Pushing my white clutch against the guard’s chest, I storm into the coatroom as if I’m highly offended. Actually, I’m pretty impressed at this Frenchman’s audacity. I’m not sure what he’s after, but he’s barking up the wrong tree with Zelda Wilder.

Once inside, I hastily unfasten the beaded collar of my dress. Ava is right behind me, holding the top so my breasts are covered.

“He must’ve been working hard to get that thing down your top,” she whispers. “It’s a halter!”

I reach down to lift out… sure enough, a powder blue thousand-dollar rectangular chip. “Well what do you know,” I sigh.

We both stare at it in wonder for a moment. All of our cons are small, petty-cash jobs that build to real money. It’s the first time we’ve held the real deal in our hands all at once.

“Here, quick!” My sister snaps opens her clutch and whips out a red and black fifty-dollar chip, exchanging it for the plaque, which she drops into her bag. “This is what was in your top.”

Our eyes meet, and hers flash with determination. “You think I can get away with it?” My voice is hushed.

“Who’s going to prove what he dropped? You already said you didn’t see what it was. He made the mistake. And who the hell is he anyway, to go around dropping shit down your top? He deserves it. Pervert. Now fasten up. Hurry!”

My heart beats faster as I do the buttons behind my neck. “If we get away with this, we’re driving to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow and chartering a sailboat. We’re going to spend the whole day on the water.”

“Good thing I bought a new bathing suit!” She steps to a small room and shuts the door. “I’ll meet you back at our hotel in an hour.”

“I’ll settle this then I have to meet up with Seth,” I pause before going to the door. “You did good tonight, Sis!”

“I got my bonus. Be careful.”

Three men glare at me expectantly when I step from the small room. I square my shoulders and push my hair back. Striding across the space to the men, I resume my offended act.

“I don’t know what kind of con you’re running, Mister, but that wasn’t a thousand dollar chip in my top.” Shoving the red and black plastic in his hand, I reach out for my clutch from the guard. “Nice try.”

“No!” Frenchie shouts. “This is not right! I did not drop fifty dollars down your shirt! Give me my money!”

“I will not stand here and be harassed any longer!” Flashing my eyes at the guards, I zero in on the weaker of the two. “I am not accustomed to such treatment, and I know this is not how the Hard Rock HQ expects their female guests to be treated. This is sexual harassment!”

Both guards look constipated and confused, and I don’t give them a chance to collect their thoughts. I’m making my way out the door while the Frenchman is still arguing, lapsing into his native tongue at times as they hold him from chasing after me.

Running out into the night, I wave at a yellow cab waiting on the corner. He lurches forward, and I jump in, slamming the door. “Ramada Hollywood Downtown!”

The cab heads south, leaving the Hollywood reservation and driving toward the coast. The radio plays softly, and the guy isn’t chatty. Looking in my clutch, the five hundred is still intact along with a few hundreds I picked up playing blackjack. We’ll pool it all once I get to Seth’s place.

In minutes we’re turning into the cheap hotel parking lot. I pass a ten to the driver. “Keep the change,” and I’m out the door, slamming it behind me.

The air is heavy and thick with heat. It smells like rain and cooling asphalt, and I give the parking lot a quick scan. I’m alone, but I see Seth’s green Civic in the lot.

I pop open my clutch and pull out the door card he gave me, swiping it so I can enter the courtyard. Tall palm trees outline the perimeter, but I can tell it’s empty. A kidney-shaped swimming pool glows blue in the center. It’s also empty, but as I’m making my way to the balcony stairs, I hear a woman’s gravelly voice.

“Zee,” she calls. “Over here.”

Squinting in the dim light I see two figures sitting at a table in shadows. Hustling toward them, I recognize Seth. His coat is off, and the fake glasses are shoved up on his head. He’s counting out our winnings.

“Think it’s safe to do that here?” I pull out a heavy iron chair and drop into it with a sigh.

“What happened to you?” Helen takes a long pack of brown cigarettes from her bag and flicks her Bic. The small yellow light briefly illuminates her “May Contain Alcohol” sweatshirt, and I can’t help a laugh now that we’re safely away.

“Where the hell did you get that shirt?”

She looks down and coughs a congested laugh. “On the strip in Fort Lauderdale. This shop has every kind of shirt you can imagine.”

“I bet,” I exhale, but Seth leans forward.

“Okay, what you got Zee?” All trace of accent is gone, and he’s back to flat Kansas, as nondescript as you can get.

Opening my clutch, I scrape out all the contents. “The five hundred.” He takes it and adds it to the pile. “And a few hyundais I picked up at blackjack before you arrived.”

He grins and waves it away. “Keep ’em. Your winnings outside the con are yours.”

“Thanks,” I say, leaning back. I can’t help wondering if he caught what happened after his big win—my encounter with our foreign tablemate.

He’s back to counting our pot and then dividing it into thirds. “That guy was crowding you tonight,” he says, and my heart stops.

It’s quiet a moment, and Helen takes a pull on her cigarette. The orange cherry glows in the darkness.

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I was worried for a second he might see me.”

“That’s why this is a three-person job.” He leans back and looks at me. Three even stacks are before him on the table.

“Ava played an important role, in case you didn’t notice.” My chest is tight, and if we hadn’t run our own, separate con, I’d be pissed. Seth never acknowledges Ava’s role in keeping security distracted. “You guys made as much noise as possible. I’m surprised we didn’t have the entire police force standing around watching us play.”

That makes him laugh, and he leans forward. “Take it easy, Fireball. I know little sister is an asset.”

“You never include her in the winnings.”

Lifting his eyebrows, he does a little shrug. “If she brings in cash, she can have a share of the winnings.”

I’m still not sure if he’s waiting for me to confess what happened with the thousand-dollar chip. The old saying “no honor among thieves” drifts through my mind, and he can wait all night if he thinks I’ll cave. Whatever he knows, if anything, he’ll have to say it.

“It was so much easier when they let us smoke in the casinos,” Helen sighs a long cloud of blue smoke. “Hiding that transmitter in your cuff is not ideal.”

“Either way, we’ve burned up our chances of winning any more here.” My eyes ache. My spine is tired from absorbing all the stress of the evening, and exhaustion is rolling over me like the warm surf.

“We’ll lay low for a month or so. I’ll call with our next rendezvous point.” Seth shoves a pile of money toward me, and I stand. “You should have enough there to keep you both comfortable until I call.”

Picking up my clutch, I tuck the stack inside without bothering to count it. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

He’s on his feet equally fast. “Hey, Zee…” Hazel eyes twinkle in the tall lights, and he reaches up to slide the black glasses off his head. “That’s it? No hug before you go?”

I pause, evaluating his request. I’ve known Seth Hines since I was twenty-one, hustling pool players in panhandle bars while Ava lifted food and petty cash off vendors in the farmer’s markets.

Seth is two years older than me, and when we met, he was selling human growth hormone in South Beach. He cleaned us up, taught us how to talk right, made me stop saying fuck all the time. That swear jar almost broke me on the F-bomb alone. I’d never realized how useful (and versatile) that term was.

Basically he turned us into knock-off Bar Harbor society girls as opposed to the panhandle hicks we truly are. He also taught me how to gamble in nice casinos, which is different from gambling in shit-hole dive bars.

He taught me how to stay cool when it looks like I’m about to get busted. He taught me to be a pro. But not Ava. Back then she was too young. Then when she was old enough, he said she was too pretty.

“Targets will want to sleep with her or at the very least hit on her,” he’d said. “Having a memorable face is a liability in this game.”

By saying that, he had essentially called me plain and forgettable, but I shook that shit off. He was right. Ava’s beauty was the reason we were forced into a life of petty crime in the first place. It wasn’t what I promised her when I said I’d take care of us, but we were making it. I didn’t want her taking chances like me.

Two years later, and we’ve graduated from small-time card tricks to more complex schemes with bigger payoffs. We’re only loosely associated with Seth, and I like to keep it that way. He has a mean side. He’s never hurt me, but I don’t get too close. I don’t trust him.

Seth’s a grifter like me, and a grifter like me will do anything to get what he wants. In my case it’s security, a safe place for Ava and me. In Seth’s case, it’s the big score, the ultimate win.

I step forward into his outstretched arms, but I only hug him briefly before pulling back.

“What? That’s it?” he laughs.

“Ava’s back at the hotel alone, and I’m ready to crash.”

He waves and drops in his chair. “Suit yourself.”

“Night, Helen.” I wave at the part-Seminole granny, who always adds color to our jobs. “Can’t wait to see what you show up wearing next.”

She takes another pull off her cigarette and exhales a chuckle. “Night, Zee. Take care of you two.”

“It’s what I do,” I say as I go.

It’s what I’ve been doing for the past six years, and I don’t intend to stop. Survival skills have gotten us this far.

I think about earlier this evening and how Ava knew instinctively to sneak into the coatroom and wait. My sister and I have become a well-oiled machine. I can’t take credit for being the brains anymore because my little sister is right there spotting every angle and preparing to maximize any situation.

One day we won’t need Seth to come up with cons. One day we’ll have enough money to take care of ourselves for a long, long time.

One day we’ll be free.

2

PLAYBOY PRINCE

Rowan

SHOVING THE CLUTCH INTO FIFTH, I steer into the straight and punch the accelerator all the way to the floor. The noise of the engine rips through the air, and the speed of the Mercedes CLR vibrates up my legs as the needle moves past a hundred.

The track is slick and the tires of my Formula One car are slicker. A single wrong move could send me into a potentially deadly spin. Every muscle in my body strains as I ride the lightning, as a bead of sweat glides down my neck. A curve is ahead. I’ll cut the first one to nail the second exiting into another straight to pick up more speed.

Pushing the breaks hard, the wheel fights me as I turn it. I cross my arms like a pretzel, never letting go as I guide the car through the first turn, only to whip it around again coming out and hitting the gas hard, flying into the straight.

The black and white checkerboard of the finish line is in view, and I let her rip, giving everything to beat my previous time. Scenery blurs into a wash of color. My eyes are fixed on the top third of the windshield. I blaze past the flagman faster than a blink, his frantic waving barely registering in my vision.

Foot off the gas, I exhale, my muscles vibrating with adrenaline. Coasting through the downshifts, I bring it into the pit.

“Fuck me, you did it! Seven seconds!” Cal is laughing and shouting at the side of the car, grasping my underarm and pulling me up. “You’re one away from the record.”

Pulling off my helmet, I scrub a hand back and forth through my dark hair. “It’s not enough,” I say, pulling the zipper down on my red and white fireproof suit.

It’s a gorgeous day on the track. The sky is brilliant blue, and the air is dry. Zero humidity, and not a cloud obstructs the sun from beating down on us. Standing on the black asphalt, my entire body is covered in sweat from both the exertion of the trial run and the heat. If we were closer to the coast, at least we’d have the constant breeze.

“You’re the best racer in the country,” my brother continues. “It’s a shame you’ll never compete again.”

Regret twists my stomach. “You always know just what to say, don’t you, Cal?”

“Come now, we can’t have our future king going out in a blaze of glory.” He slaps my back as he braces me. “You’ve got enough shit to deal with at the palace.”

Even after all this time, it’s tough for me to let it go so easily. “Did you see Gutierrez’s crash last week? He climbed out and walked over to do an interview right after.”

“What are you saying?” My brother’s eyes flash.

“Nothing.” One of the pit crew shoves a Gatorade in my hand, and I rip the top off and take a drink before dismissing my fantasies of freedom. “Only that it’s impressive how far safety has come. Racing sets the standard for the entire automobile industry.”

“You want to say fuck it? Grand Prix qualifications are only a few weeks away!”

“No.” I push off the side of the car and slowly make my way to the track exit. Cal would never talk me out of doing something completely insane and irresponsible. He’s perfected such behavior. “Fuck it is not in the royal vernacular.”

“Ah, shit.” He walks beside me, pulling out his phone. “I thought for once we might have a little fun around here.”

As I’m passing into the covered area under the stands, I nod to the guards standing watch.

“I need a shower,” I mutter.

“Hello hello! What’s this? It appears someone is having fun around here.” My brother grabs my shoulder, stopping me. “Is hummer in the royal vernacular? Ha! And it’s all over the blogs…”

The last thing I care about is tabloid news. “I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass—” The words die in my throat as my brother shoves his smartphone in my face, and I immediately recognize the billiard room at our estate in Occitan. “What the hell?”

On the screen is a blurry image of me leaning against the wall. My head is back and my eyes are closed. On her knees in front of me is a blonde I know too well, her head level at my crotch.

“Shit!” I snatch the phone, adrenaline spiking in my veins.

“Now who was this young lady?” Cal teases, elbowing my side. “Is she practicing her genuflection?”

“Who took this?”

“More importantly, was it any good?”

My jaw grinds in anger as I remember that night a few weeks ago, the daughter of a duke was visiting with her father. She and I have known each other since we were kids. I was tired, she was charming, a few drinks later...

We haven’t spoken since, and there’s no way in hell I’ll reveal her identity.

“How dare they… Find whoever did this and have these images destroyed!”

Taking his phone back, Cal laughs louder, increasing my fury. “What century do you live in? These photos are out there for the duration. I’m just glad to see you’re finally getting some action.” He slaps my shoulder. “I was worried about you, old chap.”

Stopping at the exit wall, I lean against it thinking of all the eyes that will see that photo—the queen mother, the lady’s father, the god damned assholes in the cabinet who treat me like I’m not old enough to rule. It’s yet another reason for them to delay the referendum naming me King of Monagasco. As if we can afford another delay…

“I hate the Internet,” I growl.

“Welcome to the club.” Cal turns his phone. “It’s an incredibly clear shot. You must’ve been drunk to be so careless.”

“I was very tired. I didn’t ask for that.” I honestly never expected it either.

“What I wouldn’t give for that whole future king moniker you continually waste. Do you know how much tail you could be getting on a regular basis?”

“You’re the heir presumptive. If future king is all it takes, you can cash in on the lineup at any time.”

He shakes his head. “Nobody wants the bitter younger brother of the future king. The one silently calculating the day his elder sibling dies and he seizes all the power.”

“Is that what you’re up to?”

“I’m just saying. Don’t you watch any movies?”

Narrowing my eyes on my younger brother, I joke, “I seem to recall that Loki fellow has quite a following. Isn’t he always trying to find creative ways to kill Thor?”

“Part of the problem is I actually like you, old bean.” Cal throws an arm over my shoulder. We’re the same six-foot-two height, so it works. “I wouldn’t trade the shit you deal with every day for all the pussy in the world.”

“Look out—” Shrugging his arm off, we both launch into a full-out sprint toward our waiting town car.

We’re only steps ahead of a mob of paparazzi flying in our direction, camera flashes popping. I fling open the door and dive in. Cal’s right behind me, pulling in his feet just before the door slams with a solid thunk.

Our most trusted driver Hajib hits the gas, and we’re pushing away from the crowd as the strobe of flashbulbs blinds us.

“Next time you’re feeling hard up, let me know.” Cal pants. “I’ll find you someone more discreet.”

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Leaning forward, I pinch my fingers over my closed eyes, calming my breath. “It had to have been someone on staff.”

“You’re not going to tell me her name?”

Hesitating, I consider his request, but waiting for my answer is forgotten as he checks his phone again.

“No!” he cries. “They can’t do this!”

My blood freezes. “What?” I lean toward him, stomach tight. Could it possibly get any worse?

“I’m the Playboy Prince. Me!” He jams a thumb in his chest. “Leave me something, man!”

“Jesus,” I hiss leaning back in the seat and looking out the window at the passing scenery. Every few seconds I catch a glimpse of the turquoise water of the Mediterranean. “We’re supposed to be in Occitan to relax.”

“You’re one step ahead of us on that front.”

I’m about to lose it when my phone buzzes. “Shit,” I mutter when I see the screen. “Mother.”

“Here we go.” Cal turns my phone to read her text aloud. “We need to talk.”

I lean forward again, putting my hand over my mouth as I try to sort this out. Of all things, my mother had to see me getting a blowjob from an unnamed female. She won’t be angry at the act necessarily—just that I got caught.

“Chin up. It could be worse.” My brother stretches his legs. “It’s not like your royal ass was in the air or you were caught in a ménage.”

“Both of which you’ve already done.”

He exhales dramatically, “It’s been a while, my brother.”

“Two days?”

That only makes him smile, and he slaps my shoulder. “Think of it this way, getting a hummer from an attractive young courtier is the royal way. You’re just keeping with tradition. Shows you’re a man.”

“More like a careless frat boy. Not the future leader of our country.”

“It didn’t hurt the President of the United States, and they’re supposedly the world leaders.”

“I’d hardly model my personal life after a U.S. President. They’re all commoners.”

The car stops in front of our seaside estate, and I glance down at my racing suit and dirty hands. At least the sweat is dry from our air-conditioned ride. “I suppose I should get this over with now.”

Hajib opens the door, and I step out, not missing his attempt to hold back a smirk. I can’t believe I’m plastered all over the fucking tabloids…

“You could’ve been experimenting with coke,” Cal continues as we jog up the white front steps to the grand entrance.

“Again, something you’ve already done,” I retort.

“It was only once. The sex was insane, let me tell you.”

My mother is standing in the foyer waiting for us. She’s dressed in an olive green suit, and her silver hair is smoothed back in a controlled helmet. A three-stranded pearl necklace is precisely positioned at her throat. Everything about her is planned, controlled, and exactly as it should be.

“Your royal highness,” she says to me, a definite tone in her voice. “Would you step with me into the parlor?”

“Of course,” I say.

She leads the way, and my brother is right on my heels, never one to miss a royal scolding.

“Close the door please, Cal,” she says, turning to sit on the edge of a chaise upholstered in yellow satin.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stand.” I say, doing a slight nod. “I’ve been at the track.”

“Certainly,” Mother’s voice is sharp. “This won’t take long. I suppose you’ve seen the news.”

“Just now. Cal noticed—”

“Your great aunt Daphne brought it to my attention. You know how I despise that woman.” Straightening, she runs her palms down the front of her light blazer. “You know, Rowan, when you first took over after your father’s death, you made several bold moves. Exiling Hubert and Reggie, although I don’t know I agree with the latter, you demonstrated strength, that you were not afraid to crush insubordination. I was proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I say, knowing exactly where this is headed.

“You also have powerful critics, who think you’re young, inexperienced, and reckless. Your racing hobby, for instance, and now this.”

“I can assure you, Mother—”

“I’m not angry, Rowan. You’re a man, after all.” Her lips are tight, and her ice blue eyes fix on mine. “You’re very handsome, you’re twenty seven, you have needs.”

Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I have no idea where this is headed. “What are you saying?”

She inhales and looks around the well-appointed room. “We can’t afford to have you engaging in frivolity while the people suffer and unemployment is high.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I spend most of my time looking for ways to improve the economy—”

“Looking for ways is not enough, Rowan.” Her eyes return to mine. “I’m ready to retire. I need you to do something bold. Take action. Force their hand on the succession referendum.”

Frustration twists in my chest. My succession to the throne has to be put forth to the people by the very cabinet members intent on criticizing me.

“I have several projects in the works. I’m moving us away from oil dependence. I’ve drafted an agreement with an American tech billionaire—”

“Which I’m sure will pay off eventually,” she sighs.

For a moment, she’s quiet, thinking. I don’t know what to say to ease her concerns, partly because I know she’s right. I’ve got to do something to control the narrative.

“Many things about our way of life never change, no matter how many centuries pass,” she says. “If your only press is of you acting the playboy while the people suffer, you might as well tell them to eat cake as they starve.”

“That’s hardly fair, Mum,” Cal jumps in. “Everyone knows what a stiff Ro is. So he had one slip up. Now all the old biddies can stop saying he’s gay.”

“What the hell?” If I wasn’t angry before…

“MacCallum Lockwood Tate! Don’t make me send you from this room.”

My brother only laughs, but I ignore his jokes and address my mother’s concerns.

“I understand what you’re saying, Mother. I’ll double-down on appearances. Perhaps I can do something with the regiment…”

“It’s not enough.”

Our eyes lock. We’re wealthy beyond belief. We’re sitting in a plush room with arched windows covered in gold-velvet curtains. Two couches are arranged back to back on a red-Persian rug, which protects gleaming wood floors. A gilded lamp sits on a small, round mahogany table. I’m trying to figure out how I can change what we are.

“What more I can do?”

“You have to show your focus. Engage in an act of maturity.” Her eyes harden. “It’s time the king took a wife.”

The noise of Cal dropping the brass paperweight echoes from the desk behind me. My throat closes. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“You need to appear rooted and settled down, Rowan. Or at the very least focused on the future. France tolerates us, but if it appears Totringham is poised to invade, they will move. We’re not in a position to fight with this recession dragging on.”

Everything she says is true. The country is in a precarious position and any indication of weakness in power makes us vulnerable. Still, I can’t tolerate the meaning of her words. I’m out of my seat and pacing. It’s my absolute last shred of freedom stripped away.

“So I marry some cousin or daughter of an earl to save our independence? It’s ridiculous.”

“Or you become a celibate, which is even more ridiculous.” She stands and does a little wave. “It’s time you settle down with someone royal and start producing royal heirs. Now get cleaned up.”

She exits the parlor, and Cal rocks back in the chair, watching me with a smirk. “I sure hope that was one superior hummer.”

A five thousand kilo brick is in my stomach, and I can’t think about this right now. “I need a shower.”

3

A PROPOSITION

Zelda

THE WATER of the Atlantic gleams turquoise under a cloudless sky. I lie back on the catamaran and let the blazing sun beat down on my golden skin. The warmth and salt air combined with the lapping of the waves is delicious.

“A perfect day after a perfect crime,” Ava says with a laugh, joining me on the bow of the sailboat. “Check it out.”

Propping on my elbows, I look over at her latest acquisition. She holds up a thick gold herringbone men’s bracelet. I sit up all the way and reach for it.

“Let me see!”

She sits in front of me, and I turn the half-inch-wide gold strand over in my hands. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yes, but what man wears a gold bracelet anymore?”

“I can think of a few.”

“Rap stars.”

“So hook up with a rap star.” I blink up at her and grin. “Your pretty head would probably explode with all the jewelry you could steal.”

That makes her laugh. “I wonder if I could get a diamond stud out of someone’s ear without him noticing.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Maybe if I used my mouth…”

“Gross!” I throw my hands up. “Don’t tell me. Show me when you’ve done it.”

My sister started her game of “trade” when she was only eighteen and helping me distract security guards in the Indian casinos in north Florida. She’d talk to them, flirt and giggle. She’d hang on their arms and ask them all about their jobs in breathless rapture. They wouldn’t even notice me counting cards and palming the decks.

At some point in the night, she’d grow sad and wistful and tell the unsuspecting male how much like her late father he was. Then she’d give him a gift—either a gold cigarette case or a pair of onyx cufflinks. Or maybe a shiny brass Zippo. The men would be so flattered, they wouldn’t even notice her stealing their watch or money clip or whatever expensive item they happened to be wearing. In Ava’s mind, the gift made up for the theft of something new. It was her own private jewelry exchange.

I watch as she wraps the thick piece of gold around her slim wrist. “Maybe I’ll have a few links removed and keep it for myself.”

“But then what would you give your next victim?” I lie back, closing my eyes against the blazing sunlight.

“I don’t know.” She’s quiet, and I glance over at her stretched out, long and lean, brown skin in a white string bikini.

Suddenly her chin jerks in my direction. “Don’t you ever wish we could do something really exciting? Like rob an art gallery that has laser tracking? We could sprinkle powder everywhere and climb through it like Catherine Zeta-Jones in Entrapment.”

“No.” I frown at her, and she laughs, turning away again.

“C’est la vie.”

“What we do isn’t for kicks, Ava. We only steal so we can eat. And live.”

“And take charters off the coast of Miami.”

“This is a bonus, and you know it.” Sniffing, I take a sip of my rum punch. The sweet, fruity flavor fills my mouth. “That jerk was an asshole dropping his chip down my dress. He got what he deserved.”

“Did you tell Seth?”

I don’t answer, and the sound of the waves licking against the side of the boat fills the empty air while she waits. A seagull cries as it passes over, and I look up at it.

With a little sigh, she relaxes on her towel, letting my non-answer pass. “How come you and Seth never hook up?” she asks instead. “He’s been with us since Tampa. You claim he taught you everything you know about scamming casinos. What’s the problem?”

“He’s not my type.” Seth is about control, and I’ll be damned if I let any man control me.

“Tell me,” she flips onto her stomach. “What is your type, Zelda Wilder? Some tall, dashing pirate with doubloons galore? Or a cowboy?”

All these questions are harshing my buzz. “I thought we came out here to relax.”

“I’m relaxed. I’m ecstatic!” She laughs and kicks both her feet up. “We’ve got four thousand dollars! Can you believe it? We can live on four thousand dollars for—”

“About a month.” I take another sip of rum.

“Not true! The hotel room is only three hundred. We can scrimp on meals.”

“It’s still going to run out, and then what?” I’m not sure why my mood has taken a turn, but I’m less breezy and more reality all of a sudden.

“Then we do it again!” Ava cries, and I hear the impatience in her tone.

For a moment I’m quiet, looking at her stretched out in the sun smiling. My sister is smart and attractive. I might have saved her from abuse in the foster system, but what have I done for her?

“I’m going to burn,” I mutter, pushing up and walking low to the back of the boat, my empty silicone glass in hand.

Miguel, our captain, is stretched out smoking a joint. “Sexy Zee,” he says smiling. “Have a hit?”

“No thanks.” I shake my head and give him a wave. “I’m not in the mood for grass.”

“Drinks in the cabin.”

Nodding, I start down the ladder, but I pause midway. “Thanks for taking us out today.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t have anything else to do. Beautiful day, beautiful view.” He winks and nods toward the bow.

“Yeah.”

Miguel is harmless, and he’s always been nice to us since we arrived in south Florida. Our first few days, I snooped around the docks looking for scraps and easy work. He hired me to be first mate on a few of his snorkeling charters, and in return, I’ve sent him business pretty regularly. Him being at the dock today looking for tourists was a stroke of luck, and now three lucky breaks in a row has me looking over my shoulder.

I spray sunscreen on my chest and arms then lean down and coat my knees again. A little more lotion on my face, a refill of rum punch, and I’m headed back up front to where my sister is sitting cross-legged, looking into the breeze.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted anything, sorry,” I say, sitting on my towel again.

“It’s okay. I’ll get something in a minute.” She’s looking up and down the shoreline. “One goes down, and another, bigger one springs up in its place.”

Following her gaze, I think about where we are and where we’re headed. “We should try to get a job at one of those places.”

“A nine to five?” She looks at me like I just sprouted an additional head.

I trace a path along the frosted edge of my glass with my finger. The pink beverage inside is thick and sweet. “We gotta do better than this, Ava-bug. This is no kind of long-term plan.”

She growls softly and stretches her legs in the sun. “You always get like this after a big job. You’re small-time, Zelda Wilder.”

Her carnival barker voice makes me grin. “What are you talking about?”

“The more zeros you bring home, the more you fret about changing the way we live. How we gotta do better than this.” She’s imitating me now.

I think about how I’m feeling. “We are better than this. At least you are.”

“Better than the cheating husbands who grab my ass? Okay, sure.” Scooting closer, her voice gets a little harder. “Better than the casino owners who rig the games to dribble out a little money at a time so the addicts keep coming back for more? I guess I’m better than them.”

Lifting my glass, I smile as I take a drink. “See how smart you are? You should be in school somewhere learning how to run a business.”

Ava eases back onto her towel, tilting her head to the side. “I’m no smarter than you are. I’ve learned everything I know from watching you.”

I groan a laugh. “That’s not encouraging.”

We’re still again, listening to the sounds of the ocean, the waves splashing gently as the catamaran cuts through the water, the birds overhead, the occasional tug of a cruise ship passing in the distance, taking off for some Caribbean voyage.

In my mind I replay last night, my time at the table, the old man who slipped up behind me and tried to pull a fast one. My little sister at the bar touching security guards, leaning forward to give them a teasing glimpse of her cleavage as she steals their gold bracelets.

“It never ends,” I answer. “Or it ends badly.”

“Which is why you love it.” Her forceful reply snaps me from my melancholy thoughts. “You would be miserable doing anything else. You live for the adrenaline rush of going in there, taking chances, not knowing what might happen from one moment to the next.”

“Maybe.” I can’t deny what she’s saying, but I can’t let her win that easily. “Still… Momma would’ve expected me to do better by you.”

“Don’t you do that.” She grabs my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. Our eyes meet, blue on green, and I see the fierce protectiveness burning in hers. “You saved me. You got us away from those abusive assholes. Don’t you ever think Momma would doubt you. I never will.”

We stare at each other, and as much as I don’t want it, my mind goes tripping back to that last night in foster care. To the sweaty, meaty hands running up my little sister’s smooth legs, higher… to the hem of her gown as she lay still as a statue shivering and praying. I saw the fear in her eyes, and I snapped.

Bile rises in my throat, and I remember taking the lamp and smashing it over his head moments before we ran. “I didn’t have a plan,” I confess. “I just couldn’t let him touch you like that.”

“You kept me from being hurt. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

I exhale, straightening my legs and looking down at my drink. “I’m your sister. You don’t have to repay me.”

I’m back in that concrete culvert holding her small body as she cries. I’m vowing to do whatever it takes to keep us on the road, free, even though I have no idea how the hell I’ll do it.

I’m lost in thought as a blast of noise cuts through our tranquility. The loud buzz of a speedboat races toward our vessel.

“What the—” Ava’s voice trails off as she reaches for her cover-up, and I turn in time to see a gleaming wood, clearly expensive cruiser glide up beside us.

The captain reaches for the side of the catamaran and throws a rope across just as my eyes register his passenger. It’s the Frenchman from last night! Mr. Thousand-dollar Chip!

“Miguel,” I scream. I scream until my voice cracks, but it’s no good. He’s asleep in the back, and the noise of the boat drowns me out.

The speedboat captain puts one foot across to our boat, and before I can protest, he grips my arm roughly, jerking me off the catamaran and into the bed of his cruiser.

“You too, Miss!” he yells at Ava, whose eyes are round saucers.

Uncertainty ripples through her limbs, and I see her trying to decide whether to follow me, or run and try to wake Miguel.

“Stay where you are, Ava!” I shout. “I’ll be okay.”

“Zee?” That tremor of fear I haven’t heard since the night we ran is in her voice.

The Frenchman steps up on the side of the cruiser and holds out his hand. “Please come with us, Mademoiselle.” His voice is low and smooth. “I won’t hurt you. We have business to discuss.”

Her brow lines, and her eyes flicker to mine. She’s like a sparrow caught in a trap. I turn my attention to the well-dressed man speaking to my sister. Living on the street has taught me to read people, and one thing I’ve learned is when someone intends to hurt you, they don’t typically mention business. They don’t make requests. They push you down or pull out a weapon.

Ava doesn’t move, waiting for my direction. With a fortifying breath, I nod. Her posture is defensive, but she scoops up my bathing suit cover before placing her small hand in his and climbing slowly across to the speedboat.

Once she’s in, the man turns to me. “Sir Reginald Winchester.” He extends a hand, but I’m trying to figure him out.

Today he’s dapper in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt with a navy blazer on top. His dark hair is streaked with grey, and that moniker sounds like royalty.

“Zelda Wilder,” I say, not shaking his hand. “How did you find us out here?”

“There’s very little money won’t buy, Miss Wilder, including the whereabouts of an attractive, street-smart blonde with a brunette who could pass for a model.”

Chewing my lips, I silently acknowledge what Seth has been saying all along. It’s hard to fly under the radar with Ava.

“Zee! Zee!” I look over my shoulder to see Miguel is up and waving frantically at us from the catamaran. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Tell him you’re fine,” Sir Reginald Winchester says to me in a low voice.

I survey the plush speedboat we’re in and the relaxed captain waiting for further instruction.

“Will it be a lie?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not. As I told your sister, I have no intention of hurting you.”

A few moments pass, and I study his steel grey eyes. I see something in them, something I recognize—and it’s not deception.

Stepping to the side, I call back to our friend. “If we’re not back in an hour, call the police.”

He hesitates, looking from me to the captain of the speedboat to the tall man standing beside me.

“One hour,” he shouts, and I nod, giving him a wave.

“Let’s go,” the man to my right says, and the speedboat roars to life. “Please, take your seats.”

Ava is already sitting with her arms hugging her stomach. I take the seat beside my sister, putting a protective hand on her. Miguel doesn’t move as we turn and shoot away from where he’s anchored.

“A thousand dollars for an hour.” The man’s accent is thick, and it makes his words sound slurry. “Your time is quite valuable.”

“Then you’d better get on with it,” I snap.

Unlike Ava, I’m sitting straight, unafraid on the outside, shaking like a leaf on the inside. This could be one of the dumbest decisions my curiosity has made.

The man laughs as he reclines in the leather seat beside me. “I like your spirit, Miss Wilder. I was quite captivated by it last night at the tables.”

“Is that why you pulled that stunt with the chip? You must think I don’t watch movies.”

His eyebrow quirks, and his blue eyes twinkle. “Hats off to you. Few people would catch the Hitchcock reference.”

“Our parents loved classic movies,” Ava’s voice is quiet.

“No, I used the ‘stunt with the chip’ as you put it hoping I might secure a meeting with you.”

“Perhaps you should look up the term backfire in your French-to-English dictionary.”

His expression hardens, and he straightens his coat. “I’m an official in the Monagasco government, and the con you pulled at the roulette wheel last night was first executed in one of our most luxurious casinos. Only that time, they used a pack of cigarettes to activate the transmitter.”

My stomach drops. He’s with the gambling commission! Ice filters through my veins, and my mouth goes dry. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do.” He’s smiling, but it’s like the cat that has the mouse cornered and is ready to pounce. “The trick you and Mr. Kentucky pulled involved your gold bracelet emitting a radio transmission that guided the ball into one of three possible trays.”

Ava stiffens at my back, and I’m glad she’s wearing her dark sunglasses. My sister does not have a poker face—one of the many reasons I don’t let her gamble.

“You must have watched one too many movies yourself, Mr. Winchester. I’d never laid eyes on that man from Kentucky before last night.”

He’s quiet, smiling as we continue to bounce along the waves. A little spray of water shoots over the side, and he pulls out a cloth handkerchief to wipe it away.

“That’s good,” he nods. “Very good. You lie in broad daylight as well as you lie in the evening. I suspected as much.”

I’m sick of this shit. “You’d better get to your business before you run out of time.”

“My business won’t take long to explain. We’ve time for a little polite conversation.”

“I’m not known for being polite.”

“Or for being honest,” he grins, “but I won’t hold it against you.”

“You took a chance. Too bad it didn’t pay off for you.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” His eyes move to my sister, and then back to me. “I’ve got other things in mind.”

Scooting closer to her, I lower my brow. “You and every other straight man on the planet. Take a hike, Frenchie. She’s not interested.”

He leans his head back and laughs loudly. “What did you call me?”

“I’ll call you worse than that if you try to put your pampered hands on my sister.”

The cloth handkerchief is back out, and he’s dabbing his eyes as he shakes his head. “You’re mistaken, Miss Wilder, it’s you I want.”

My heart lurches, and I speak before I realize. “Me?”

“We got off on the wrong foot.” He holds both hands up. “I only meant to say I admire your work. I have a proposition for you that will make that thousand-dollar chip look like… how do you say? Chicken feed?”

We’ve slowed to a crawl, and the waves rock the small boat roughly. I study his expression. All the humor is gone. He’s serious.

I frown, but he rises from his seat with a flourish. “I have a job for you that would eclipse all others. If you’re successful, you’ll never work again for the rest of your life.” His eyebrow cocks. “Unless you get bored and simply want to.”

So many questions jam together in my brain, I don’t know which to ask first.

Ava’s hand tightens on my arm. “What is your proposition?” she says.

The man winks and does a little point at her. “I see you have a head for business, Miss…”

“You can call me Ava.”

“He’s not calling you anything.” I grab the reins on the conversation. “I don’t like your looks.”

“Not a problem,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m not the one you’ll be interacting with. Does the name Rowan Westringham Tate mean anything to you?”

Ava and I shake our heads no. “Who is he?” she asks.

“He’s the crown prince of Monagasco, and believe me, women do like his looks, very much. Some men as well, from what I understand—”

“What about him?” I’m impatient.

For the first time, I see anger fire in our host’s eyes. “I have a score to settle with his royal highness.” Reginald’s jaw clenches, and he levels his gaze on me in a way that makes my insides squirm. “I confess I never saw you coming, but you are perfect. You’re the answer to my prayers.”

“Your twisted prayers, I’ll bet.”

“Hear me out.” He returns to his seat facing me. “Last night you demonstrated your skill with playing a part all the way to the end. You showed you don’t crack under pressure, and you’re quick on your feet.”

“What’s your point?” Flattery has never distracted me from the bottom line.

“The way royal succession works in our country, when the parliament decides the heir is ready to take the throne, they propose a formal referendum upon which the people vote.” He leans back, and I don’t like the darkness in his eyes. “I have a plan to expose the crown prince of Monagasco for the immature, selfish… careless leader he is. A leader who jeopardizes the future of our country.”

“Is that so?” I say, shifting uncomfortably.

“He won’t listen to his advisors. He threw out the cabinet. The only way to break him is to show him he’s a fool—to demonstrate it for the entire country to see.”

I don’t like the sound of this. “I don’t have a dog in your fight. Why do you need me?”

“It’s very simple, actually.” He straightens, the menacing expression gone. “You will pose as the heir of Lux Benedict, a colleague of mine who I’ve recently established as a Texas oil baron.”

“Hang on…” I’m following his words closely. “Is your friend really a Texas oil baron?”

“Of course not.”

“And you think that’s going to work?”

“Again, you’d be surprised what money can do. As Benedict’s niece, I’ll escort you to Monagasco on a holiday—Ava can be your sister or your friend, whatever makes you comfortable. While there, you just happen to cross paths with the dashing future king. You fall in love, he proposes, makes a grand public engagement, and Voilà! You’re free to leave. I’ll take care of the rest.”

My mouth has dropped open. Ava’s hand is still on my arm, but she’s not talking either.

Reginald grins. “Did you never dream of being a princess when you were a little girl?”

“No.” I glance over my shoulder, and my eyes meet Ava’s. “I dreamed of finding us a safe place to sleep, of no one catching us stealing food or breaking into boathouses when it rained. I dreamed of a place where we didn’t have to be afraid…”

“Of course, your experience was different.”

“We learned to cope in ways most people never do.”

My words seem to invigorate him. “Which is why you must say yes to me now.” He scoots forward slightly and takes my hand. “You’ll be pampered, treated to the finest clothes, food, wine… You’ll stay in the most luxurious suites, and visit the most beautiful beaches in Europe.”

Sliding my hand out of his, I scoot back. “And in the meantime I help you humiliate some guy I don’t even know in front of his entire country?”

“It’s to save the country.”

My eyes flicker up, over his shoulder, and I see Miguel in the distance. Perfect timing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester—”

“Call me Reggie.”

“I’m sorry, Reggie, but that’s not who I am. You’ve got the wrong girl.” Ava makes a noise like a puppy behind me. “Find someone else to play your game. We’re not interested.”

He leans back, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

I pause and study his disappointed expression. “Come to what?”

“You owe me money, Miss Wilder. I was hoping you’d agree to help me without the need for coercion. However, if you choose to be difficult, I’m afraid you’ll force my hand.”

My fists tighten, and I’m ready for a fight. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He rises, and to my dismay, without my heels on, my face only reaches the middle of his chest. I’m like a petulant child.

“Last night at the roulette table, I took pictures of you activating your bracelet. I’d hate to turn them over to the gambling commission. I also requested the security footage from the coatroom, which shows your sister trading out my thousand-dollar plaque for the fifty-dollar chip, which makes her your accomplice.”

He reaches down to straighten first his left cuff then his right. “Third-degree Grand Theft is a felony in Florida with the penalty of five years in prison, not to mention your unforgettable faces blasted to every casino security team across the U.S.”

As he speaks, I slowly sink back into the seat beside my sister. My stomach sinks further, through the bottom of the boat all the way to the ocean floor. We’re trapped like rats.

“But there now,” he smiles. “Let’s not fight. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I want you to help me, and in return, I help you. It’s a win-win, yes? What do you say?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I can’t shake the bad feeling twisting my guts. “You said we’d be set for life. How can I trust you’ll keep your word?”

“Of course, I almost forgot.” He hastily reaches inside his coat and pulls out a slim wallet. Opening it, he retrieves a black card. “Ten thousand dollars is on this card, prepaid. All you have to do is register it to your name and set up a password. It is yours free and clear.”

Now I really can’t breathe. “What is that?”

“Your first payment.” He smiles, and I see in his eyes he knows he’s got me. “You’ll get another ten as soon as you reach Monagasco, and I’ll reload the card as needed. You only need to text me.”

Ava’s nails bite into my arm. I can feel her breathing quickly behind me, and I know her eyes are fixed on that piece of black plastic just like mine. One word rattles around in my head: Freedom.

“We don’t have passports… visas…” It’s my last ditch attempt at saying no.

“I’ll have ambassador’s visas made up for the both of you. You’re my personal guests.”

The smallest nudge comes from behind, and I know I’m making a deal with the devil, a deal I’m going to regret. Still, like an out-of-body experience, my arm rises, and I take the card from Sir Reginald’s fingers.

We’re in.

“Very good,” Reggie nods, lifting his chin to signal the captain. “Let’s get to Bal Harbour. We have quite a bit of shopping to do.”

4

UNWELCOME GUEST

Rowan

REACHING DOWN, I take my mother’s hand to assist her out of the shiny black Mercedes town car. A strobe of camera flashes explodes around us making it difficult to see her foot wrapped in a strappy silver heel as it clears the curb. My mother is as accustomed to such events as I am, and she exits the vehicle with practiced grace.

It’s been two weeks since my royal indiscretion was plastered across the front page of every blog and cheap tabloid on the continent, and in that time I’ve performed nonstop penance.

I’ve been photographed at two charity auctions—the first for a children’s home in Romania, shaking hands with the chief architect. The second was at a benefit for the rail workers’ union. I donned a hard hat and stood beside men I equaled in height but didn’t match in sheer brawn.

Behind closed doors, I’ve met with two entrepreneurial startups. I’ve chatted with an American tech billionaire on possibly locating one of his clean-energy electric storage facilities in the northern hills of Monagasco. It’s so risky and new I’ve only discussed it with Cal, but it’s the closest I’ve gotten to revolutionizing our economic basis and moving us away from oil dependence.

Tonight I’m at the royal gala benefitting the Monagasco Red Cross. The annual event draws celebrities and dignitaries from all over the world, and once it’s over, they filter into the streets and the casinos to flood the town’s coffers with high-end tourist dollars. As we walk slowly toward the Royal Sporting Club, my mother leans on my arm.

“Make the most of this night,” she says through her smile. “Look at all the eligible young ladies in attendance. Many are daughters of our allies.”

Her words cause the muscles in my neck to tighten. Glancing up, I notice the Earl of Bishopsworth standing near the entrance with his daughter Graceland at his side. Speaking to him is the Duke of Westingroot. My throat goes dry when I see his eldest daughter Lara on his arm. Lara… The reason I’m in this fucking mess.

I don’t have time to dwell on it. Beside them is another earl or baron whose name I don’t recall… along with what appears to be his daughter, and the pairs continue into the Club.

I lean into my mother’s ear and speak through clenched teeth. “What have you done?”

She smiles and nods to an old crone who arches an eyebrow at me. My smile clenches harder. As if what I did was so blasted unheard of. So I allowed an overzealous courtier to suck my dick. So sue me. It isn’t the first time something like that has happened.

Straightening, my mother speaks softly through her smile. “I simply put out the word the crown prince is ready to marry.”

It takes all my strength not to explode. We’ve made it to the entrance, and the duke is waiting.

“Rowan,” he says heartily, gripping my shoulder in one hand as he shakes my hand with the other. “It’s good to see you keeping with tradition. You remember my daughter Lara?”

All too well… “Yes, of course,” I say, nodding my head while focusing on her mouth. Indeed, that was a superior hummer.

Lara lifts the side of her blue dress and bows her blonde head as she curtseys. “His royal highness and I took riding classes together in Nice,” she says, glancing up at me with a knowing grin.

“You were a far better rider than I was,” I say, giving her a brief smile in response.

I’m not a dick, even if these ancient assholes are royally pissing me off. I really liked Lara that summer. Our memories of being fifteen, riding along the shore, and passing the time together in the twilight hours of Nice are what preceded her dropping to her knees. We’d both had a little too much alcohol that night.

“Perhaps you’d like to dance,” her father says in an encouraging tone.

“Ah, yes… Right after I see Mother in.” I use my mother’s arm to push us through the entrance.

It’s a shitty thing to do. Lara’s a pretty girl, we’ve had some fun times, but nothing puts me off wanting a woman like having her shoved down my throat.

“Oh!” Mother squawks like a hen, but I guide her around the corner into a narrow hall.

“What is this? Some kind of reverse Cinderella scheme?”

She straightens her dress as if I’ve offended her. “Actually, it’s a very straightforward Cinderella scheme.”

“Jesus!” I couldn’t be more humiliated. My fists tighten at my sides as I pace the small space. I wonder how far back it would set me in my PR efforts if I walk out on this charity gala. “So what did you do? Put a link on the royal website? Send out a royal text alert?”

“Of course not,” she sniffs. “I wouldn’t even know how to do such a thing. I simply called a few of my friends, your great aunts…”

Striding back to where she stands, I pause to control the volume of my voice. “I would appreciate being allowed to control my personal life.”

“I’d be happy to allow that, darling, if you hadn’t already lost control of your personal life.”

“I have not lost control of anything.”

“Hello? What’s happening back here?” Cal enters the narrow space all smiles and decked out in his navy Carabiniers jacket.

“MacCallum, would you please escort me to the ballroom. Your brother needs to collect himself, and I have guests to welcome.”

“I’d be honored, Madame.” He gives me a wink and extends an elbow to our mother, who takes his arm and slowly follows him out to the evening’s festivities.

I almost laugh at the irony. The Carabiniers are a small division of soldiers charged with defending my person against attack. How appropriate he should lead my chief attacker away.

For a moment, I consider my fate. I’ve lost my father, I’ve lost one of my most trusted senior advisors in Reggie, I’ve lost my racing, and now it appears these old women are attempting to force me to marry.

My mind travels to when the king was still alive. What would he tell me to do in a situation like this? How can I best serve my country? It only takes a moment for me to know the answer. Be the king.

Straightening my shoulders, I tamp down my anger and find the control switch. Stepping out into the dark hallway I walk to the ballroom. The entire place is filled with ladies and gentleman in formal attire.

Blue and red lights alternate in the tall windows around the room, illuminating crystal chandeliers. A DJ is in the far left corner, and white-clothed tables of hors d’oeuvres line the walls. I’m surrounded by the glittering eyes of scores of young ladies breathless at the thought of being the future Queen of Monagasco.

My eyes roam the various couples when a young lady in an olive-green silk dress approaches. “Hello, there,” she says with a smile.

I smile in return. “How do you do.”

“My name’s Felicity,” she says bluntly. “I’m the Baron of Rothingham’s daughter.”

“How do you do, Miss Rothingham?”

“You can call me Felicity, and I’m all right, I guess. Mum says we’re supposed to be here putting on a show for you or something. It seems rather stupid to me.”

“Seems rather stupid to me as well,” I agree in a low voice.

Felicity doesn’t miss a beat. “When I was sixteen, my parents didn’t think I was showing enough interest in boys, so they threw me a grand ball.” She leans back and gives me a squint. “When I walked in, I expect my face looked exactly like yours does now.”

Her manner causes my insides to relax slightly. “How is that?”

“Irritated…” she pauses to think. “And quite a bit embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed. I’m the crown prince.” I sound more defensive than I feel, and we’re quiet a moment.

“I’m also Lara Westingroot’s cousin,” she continues, “and possibly one of three people who know whose mouth your royal wank was in in all those Internet pics.”

Explaining myself to a near stranger is not something I intend to do. We’re standing at the edge of the dance floor, and all eyes are fixed upon us.

“Shall we dance?” I say, motioning to the floor.

“I suppose we have to now.”

The music starts, and we turn to face each other. My hand is on her waist and hers is on my shoulder. Our other hands clasp at the side, and I study Felicity’s light brown hair styled down to the side in a ponytail. Her makeup is simple powder on her nose as far as I can tell and her lips are glossy nude. Still, her appearance is pleasant. Her eyes are the same olive drab as her dress, but I feel oddly at ease with her.

“What’s your game, Felicity?”

“I suppose I’m trying to figure out yours. You didn’t tell who the girl in the photo was, which makes me want to like you.”

“You’re one of the few,” I say, looking around at the scowling old bitties watching us.

“At the same time, you haven’t spoken to her since, which makes me think you’re a dick.”

My jaw tightens, and I don’t smile. Lara and I had been having a pleasant time that night. However I felt for her at fifteen, my feelings didn’t stand the test of time, and I found our connection dwindled no matter how much we drank. Dropping to her knees felt more like a last-ditch effort to forge some kind of bond.

“Why’d you do it?” Felicity’s eyes move around my face. “I’ve watched you since you nearly won the Grand Prix seven years ago. You’re very handsome, and you’re the most controlled royal I know. I admired you.”

The dance ends, and her hand is in the crook of my arm. We walk a few paces from the floor as I think about her question. No one’s asked it that way, and I consider it would be more accurate to ask why I let it happen. I didn’t do much of anything besides lean back and enjoy the release.

“I was tired,” I confess. “It’s been a long six years, and I wanted…” I can’t say I wanted to feel free. That sounds pathetic. “I needed a break. It felt good to let go.”

“It felt good to get your nut off more like,” she quips. I can’t argue, and she exhales a laugh. “It’s all right. I understand. I don’t think they understand, but I do. I forgive you.”

“Thanks, I guess. I’m paying for it now if that gives you any satisfaction.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks for the dance. Don’t feel pressure to pick me. I don’t care for men.” She does a little sigh. “I’m only here out of curiosity. I find you very interesting.”

That almost makes me laugh, and I give her a wink. “Are you telling me you’re a lesbian, Felicity?”

“Must we label each other, Playboy Prince?”

“Hmm,” I pull back with a frown. “I see what you mean. Let’s not.”

“Lara is very interested in you, or at least the chance at being queen.” She glances around the room. “From the looks of death I’m getting right now, I’d say she’s not alone. I wouldn’t be in your shoes for anything.”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Her slim brows pull together. “How so?”

“You distracted me from what was shaping up to be a horrid night.”

“Oh, it’s only just started.” She does a little bow. “Good luck, your majesty.”

I bid my strange new friend adieu, and Mother appears to make sure I dance with Graceland next. After her follows a string of noble females, who all look alike to me. I manage to avoid being paired with Lara, who I happen to remember is as fine a dancer as she is a horsewoman.

Still, after talking to Felicity I’m convinced dealing with her would be more than I can tolerate this particular evening. My patience has reached its limit. As a matter of fact, I’m counting down the minutes until I can leave. None of these fine ladies interests me, and they shouldn’t be the targets of my irritation. They only answered the call.

I manage to escape to the broad patio leading off the back of the ballroom, and by some miracle, I’m alone. I spot Felicity on my way out sitting on the sidelines chatting with a woman who looks older than my grandmother. She does a little wave, and I nod as I discreetly back out through the French doors.

Outside, in the fresh air, I take a deep breath and exhale a groan. I walk slowly across the flagstone pavement wanting to rip the bow tie off my neck and throw it over the balcony.

The moon is high and bright and far off in the distance. The noise of the ocean whispers like a taunt, and I wonder how difficult it would be for me to climb over the rail and escape, dash down the hill to the shore below. What I wouldn’t give to be my former self before my father died, free and easy for just one day.

Several moments pass, I stand looking out at the waves now black and tipped in silver by the moonlight. In spite of the annoyance of the evening, the night feels almost magical, like the universe shifts.

A soft voice catches my ear, and I realize I was wrong—I’m not alone. Through my exhaustion, I recognize the words softly spoken from the other side of the small rose bush planted in the center of the patio. A female voice recites a poem I learned in school.

AND YET WITH all this help of head and brain,

How happily instinctive we remain.

Our best guide upward farther to the light:

Passionate preference, such as love at first sight.

I STEP AROUND THE ROSES, and I’m frozen on the spot. A young woman sits, leaning back on her hand, and she seems to glow in the moonlight. Her dark hair is down her back in long waves that curl gently at the ends. I want to thread my fingers through it and see if it’s as silky as it appears. Her lips are full and pink, and her skin is the color of caramel.

Her strapless gown leaves her slim shoulders bare, and her chin is tilted up, eyes closed. All my tension falls away, and I burn with desire to take her in my arms and kiss her.

I want to run my mouth all over her body and taste her. I want her in my enormous bed in my chamber where I can inhale her scent and have her all around me all night. It’s an insanely primitive response unlike anything I’ve ever felt, yet I have to know who she is. I have to know her better.

“Bonsoir,” I say as gently as possible, despite my growing hunger.

Her eyes flash open, and I’m hit with a blaze of deep emerald green. It’s like a sucker-punch to the chest.

“I’m sorry!” She leans forward and moves her long dress aside before standing. She’s American…. And she’s trying to leave! My insides revolt. I can’t let that happen.

“Wait!” Dashing forward, I catch her hand. It’s slim and cool in my noticeably larger one. “I was just…” I motion back toward the ballroom. “Taking a break, and I heard you. Were you reciting poetry?”

“I love your accent.” Her chin drops, and I’m pretty sure she’s blushing. I almost can’t control the urges burning under my skin.

“It’s so beautiful here…” She slowly pulls her hand out of mine and points over the hill. “The ocean is just there, and the roses smell so nice.”

In that moment, I remember. “Were you reciting ‘In the Clearing’?”

“You like Robert Frost?” Her eyes sparkle, and I only want to see that light in them forever.

I look around, thinking. “He’s American, but his poems were easy for me to remember. They rhyme, and they feel logical. Intuitive.”

“Yes,” She smiles and nods, as if I’ve read her mind. “That’s how I feel!”

Again, I reach for her hand. Looking down, I notice our skin seems to match, although I can tell she’s been in the sun. Her hands are soft and elegant, and I want them on my body. I want her on my body. I want our bodies entwined, our sweat mingling in the throes of passion…

When she pulls away, it physically hurts. “I’d better get back. I only stepped out for some air. They’ll wonder where I am.”

I capture her hand again. “Who are they? Who are you here with?”

Her chin drops, and she looks worried. “Oh, well, umm…” I watch as her eyes trace the flagstones searching for an answer.

I’m hypnotized by those eyes, by her full lips. Reaching out, I touch her cheek. Moving closer, I’m ready to taste her. Her chin lifts, and her pink tongue slips out to touch her bottom lip. It’s like a match to gasoline, and I know the moment we meet, we won’t be going back.

“There you are!” A clear voice cuts across the patio, breaking the spell. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

I look over my shoulder to see a pretty blonde, who only appears to be a little older than the angel I’ve found. Her hair is tied back, and she’s wearing a dark silk gown. When she sees me, she stops moving, and her eyes widen.

“Are you…?” Her voice trails off as she stares at me.

My attention is pulled away when the one I want struggles out of my arms and rushes to her side.

She takes the blonde woman’s hand and whispers. “I’m so sorry, Zee. I didn’t mean to…”

I’ve had enough of all this. I’m the king, dammit. “Who are you?” I demand. “Who did you come here with?”

“Good evening, your majesty.” The one called Zee does a little curtsey, but before I can respond, I see a face that changes my burning need to raw fury.

The beautiful woman is momentarily forgotten along with her friend. I cross the space as the heat rises to my eyes.

“How dare you step foot in this place,” I say through clenched teeth. “How dare you step foot in this country!”

Reginald Winchester stands in front of me, his cold blue eyes narrow as he evaluates my response. “Your majesty,” he says in a voice dripping with insolence.

My late father’s suggestion of the guillotine floats through my mind. “You’ve got ten seconds to leave here before I order the guard to throw you out.”

Reginald only sneers down his nose. We’re the same six-foot-two height, and I am not intimidated by his scowl. “You might want to hold the threats until you hear what I have to say.”

I can barely control my anger. One of my first acts was to banish him from Monagasco along with his scheming cousin Hubert and the rest of their traitorous ring. He conspired against my father, and I hold him indirectly responsible for my father’s death. If it weren’t for this disloyal asshole, I’d still have a life. I wouldn’t be forced into the life of an inundated monarch at twenty-seven.

I’d still have my father.

My jaw is clenched so hard, I can barely speak. “There’s not a word you can say that will change my mind—”

“Your mother invited me here.”

My mother?! I can’t decide if I want to shout or throw something. My own mother went behind my back? It doesn’t make any sense. Only last week she was saying how proud she was of me for cleaning house.

“You’re lying.”

“Ask her yourself.” He walks fluidly to where the two young women stand.

The blonde has positioned herself in front of my angel, and while she’s strong, I can tell they’re both afraid of what’s happening here. I can’t help wondering who they are and how they’re related to this traitor. I have to believe an explanation exists I can accept.

My uncle fills in the blanks. “Your majesty, Rowan Westringham Tate, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Zelda Benedict and Miss Ava Wilder.” He leans closer to me, and I flinch away. “Miss Benedict is the heir to Lux Benedict of San Angelo.” He pauses as if waiting for me to understand. “Texas.”

“How do you do,” I give them a little bow, but my anger is barely controlled below the surface. “I don’t see how this changes my direct order.”

“If you please.” He gestures for me to walk ahead with him. I only comply out of simple curiosity.

“Miss Benedict recently inherited a quarter of a billion in oil from her late uncle. Your mother thought it would be a nice idea if the two of you spent some time together.” He glances back over his shoulder and smiles. “In case anything happens.”

As angry as I am with Reginald, when I glance back and see Ava, the fist of anger in my chest loosens slightly. I know Reggie’s schemes. I kicked him out for conspiring with Hubert against my father, but unlike Hubert, I know my uncle still desires independence for Monagasco. It’s in his blood. Also, lurking in the back of my mind is the notion that time spent in Miss Benedict’s presence equals time spent with Miss Wilder.

“Where are they staying?”

“They currently have rooms at the Fairmont.”

Nodding, I look down and clear my throat. My mind wanders from the sea of females in the ballroom to the one I found lingering in the moonlight, drinking in the sound of the waves, just like me.

“I’m willing to overlook your audacity this time.” When my sharp gaze meets Reginald’s gloating expression, I have to fight the urge to pop him in the mouth. “Only because I know you’re loyal to Monagasco.”

“I live to serve my country.” He does a little bow.

I push past him, returning to where the blonde Miss Benedict stands with her friend Miss Wilder. Our close proximity stirs the desire only momentarily cooled in my chest, and I have to force my eyes away from the lovely brunette.

“Miss Benedict, forgive my rudeness. I’m delighted to welcome you.”

Ava steps away, taking my insides with her, but her friend smiles and nods her head as she bows. “It’s an honor, your royal highness.”

My eyes have followed Ava when I realize what Zelda just said. “Call me Rowan, please.”

She straightens, and her blue eyes meet mine. “Then you must call me Zee.”

Her voice commands my attention. She’s smart. I like that. Although her friend has stolen my fascination, getting to know Zee Wilder might be interesting. I’ll see what Reggie has in mind for this partnership and if there’s any way I can help the country while pursuing what I really want.

5

TWO PRINCES

Zelda

SOMETIMES I WONDER if Ava and I are truly related. Stepping out of the sleek black Mercedes into the blinding strobe of camera flashes at the entrance to the Royal Sports Club, I feel like a fish who just leaped out of her bowl.

I can barely breathe. I can’t see a thing, thanks to the paparazzi. The bustier bodice on my black tulle and satin formal gown is pinching me in half. I know I’ll walk like I’m in a body brace through the crowd of nobility—that is, if I can stay upright on my too-tall stilettoes.

My sister, by contrast, sweeps out of the Town Car in her flowing dusty-rose gown as if she were born in this scene. I swear, she seems to move in sparkling slow motion, and as she turns to smile at me over her shoulder, her dark hair swirls around her arms in a shiny curtain. A ripple of whispers passes through the crowd as everyone tries to figure out who we are.

Reggie is right behind us, nearly bumping into me as I lean down to adjust my heel.

“Watch it!” I have to grab his arm to keep from falling.

His smile is plastered, and he looks straight ahead. “Hold steady. Every single one of those flashes is a photograph. You don’t want to look like a shrew on tomorrow’s gossip sites—or constipated.”

Freezing a smile on my face, I lower my leg, push back my shoulders and make my way as quickly as possible to the entrance. The sooner we’re off this freakin red carpet, the better.

“What happened to Miami?” Reginald huffs once we’re safely in the building and out of the strobe lights. “You waltzed through that casino like a supermodel on a catwalk.”

“I was wearing a romper and platforms. You’ve got me in a corset and stripper heels.” I gasp, straightening a pinch of skin near my ribcage. “I’m starving, and this damned dress is too tight.”

“You’re wearing Gaultier and Louboutin. The finest designers in France.”

“I look like a demented ballerina… or a dominatrix who got off at the wrong stop.”

“Look at me.” His tone is stern, and he stops short.

I look up at his face, and over his shoulder, I notice Ava is ahead of us peeking into the ballroom where a rainbow of lights flashes and music plays loudly.

“Eyes,” he orders, and mine snap to his. “You actually look quite lovely tonight. You’re every bit Miss Zelda Benedict, the richest woman in Texas.” His expression softens, and the unexpected warmth makes my insides squirm. I start to move away but large hands grasp the tops of my bare shoulders. “You’ve got this.”

My lips twist, and for a moment I feel obstinate. “I want to be at the beach.”

He laughs gently. “Tomorrow you can spend the day at the beach. You only have to be noticed tonight. In a positive way.”

Nodding, I slide my hand into the crook of his arm, and we start for the ballroom. Holding his arm helps me balance as I walk, and once we reach the large space filled with men and women in formal attire, I start to relax. The venue is very crowded, and it’s more like a nightclub than something out of the eighteenth century, which is what I expected when he said royal ball.

Purple and red lights shine from the ceiling to the floor in large spots, and a DJ is in the back corner spinning smooth techno. Looking around, I can’t spot Ava, which makes me nervous. I’m not sure how proficient she is with our story.

We opted with her being my friend instead of my sister. It was my idea, as I figured it would be easier for her to make a quick escape if we were caught.

Reggie and I take a slow pace around the perimeter, and my mind drifts over the last week and getting ready for this show. The moment I took the black card from his hand on that cruiser in Miami, everything shifted into fast gear…

One Week Earlier

The black card is barely in my grasp when Reggie turns to the captain of the speedboat. “Take us into port. We have work to do.”

“Hang on!” I hold the top of the white-leather seat still looking at the black American Express in my hands. “I want to verify this before we go anywhere.”

“Of course,” Reggie sniffs. “Check it while we go.”

A sleek, rose-gold iPad is shoved into my hands, and I do my best to type in the card number and register a new account while bouncing over waves in the speeding boat. Sure enough, ten thousand dollars is in the account, now owned by me.

“It appears we’re all in,” I mutter through the tightness in my throat. I can’t shake my nerves about this job.

Ava seems to know instinctively what’s happening inside my chest. She scoots closer to me on the seat and rests her chin on my shoulder.

“It’s just another zero, Zee,” she whispers, holding my arms. “We can do this.”

The captain pulls us up to the pier and hops out onto the wooden platform to tie up the boat. Reggie gathers his belongings and steps out, extending a hand back to me.

“We’re not going to Bal Harbor in bathing suits?” I look down at my flimsy cotton cover-up. The material is practically transparent, and the plunging V-neck does little to cover up my bikini.

At least Ava’s strapless dress has a ruched top and hangs to her mid-thigh. It could pass for dinner attire in South Beach. I am clearly straight off a boat.

“When we start throwing around the money we’re about to spend, they won’t care if you walk in naked.” Reggie leans forward and grasps my arm, half-helping, half-pulling me onto the pier.

Ava exits the boat without assistance, and I don’t miss the definite bounce in her step. While I’m churning with second thoughts, she’s invigorated. Maybe she’s right about me and the additional zeros. Maybe I can’t handle the long cons or big payouts.

“Are we going to Bal Harbor Shops?” Her voice is breathless as she practically skips beside us. “I’ve always dreamed of strolling the promenade, stopping at the fountains, eating at a little café…”

“You have?” I stare at her in wonder. “I didn’t even know you knew about the place.”

“I don’t live under a rock!”

Reggie observes all of this in quiet amusement. We’ve followed him to a shiny black Mercedes. A driver steps out and holds the door open, but our host steps back to let us get in first.

“I’d give anything for at least a sundress,” I grumble pulling the hem of my tunic top to the middle of my thighs.

“Don’t be a grump,” my sister says. “You have lovely legs.”

It takes less than ten minutes for us to be at the two-story outdoor mall. We’re let out under an awning near the Ralph Lauren store, and we pass through the breezeway, entering the lines of designer boutiques. The pavement is speckled beige granite, and in the center is a long, rectangular fountain with neon orange, yellow, and white Koi fish swimming among reeds and palms.

“This is really beautiful,” I whisper, inhaling the fresh scent of palms and outdoor air conditioning.

“Isn’t it?” Ava looks up and around the plants and flowers spilling over us. “Those fish are as long as footballs!”

It’s like shopping in a tropical paradise. Bright coral blooms spring out of the center of fleshy hosta plants and tall, slender palm trees tower over shorter fringy ones in dense clusters. In the center of the walkway every so often, the fountain area joins, and a little coffee shop or café is stationed with chairs and tables under huge canvas umbrellas.

The only thing more vibrant than the foliage, fountains, and fish are the women going from shop to shop. Some have multiple bags with the names of stores printed on them. One woman wears a 1950s-style tea-length floral dress with a bright green cardigan over it. Another is in a striped shorts-romper with a huge straw hat. Occasionally a man in a suit walks past.

“Here,” Reggie says, catching Ava’s arm. “We’ll start here.”

I look up to see he’s leading us into Balenciaga, and my knee-jerk response is to protest, saying we can’t afford it. Yeah, it’s going to take me a little time to get used to our new situation.

A woman crosses the floor to us, and Reggie holds out a hand. “Size two for Mademoiselle Ava, and…” He sweeps his eyes over my slightly shorter, more athletic build. “Four for Mademoiselle Zelda.”

“Of course, this way to your rooms.” The young woman motions for us to follow her.

Ava takes off as if nothing strange just happened. I chase to catch up with her, catching her arm and whispering in her ear. “Aren’t we supposed to pick out some things we like first?”

My sister shrugs. “I’m just playing along.”

Moments later we’re in separate dressing rooms, each the size of the hotel room we’ve been living in. They’re all white with black doors and long white upholstered benches in the center. A soft tap, and the sales clerk enters with a short rack holding several different outfits all on hangers.

“These are the editor’s picks from the Spring-Summer collection,” she says. “Please take your time. Can I bring you something to drink?”

My head is spinning, and I could probably use a bottle of water, but I decline. I’m walking slowly toward the rack of monochromatic beige outfits. Most are dresses, but a few are short sets with filmy coats on top.

I’m just slipping on the first completely sheer lace dress when my door slings open. “Check this out!” Ava cries.

Her long, tanned body is clad in wide-legged beige-satin pajama pants with navy pinstripes running down them. Her top is a wide bandeau, and over that is an oversized, triangular-shaped beige coat. She’s holding a white leather clutch that’s round like a cylinder with fringe hanging off it on every side.

“That’s… interesting?” She paces around the room swaying her hips like a model. “Would you wear that out on the street? With your stomach showing and all?”

“I don’t know!” she laughs, “but I love it!”

My sheer dress is on the floor, and I’m pulling on wide-legged shorts in the same material as her pants. The top for me is a V-neck halter contraption with a wide band around my ribs. A long, sheer-chiffon coat is on the hanger with it, which leads me to believe I’m supposed to put it on top.

“Halter and shorts with a chiffon… coat?”

“Oh!” Ava spins around and catches my hands. “You look amazing!”

I pick up a large fanny pack made of pleated and gathered silk. It has a wide zipper across the top and long wide satin strips. “Am I supposed to tie this around my waist?

“Who knew fanny packs were making a comeback?”

“This is a lot bigger than the fanny pack our mom used to wear.”

We finally decide on two outfits each from the lot and head out to meet Reggie, who’s sitting in an elegant leather armchair sipping champagne.

When he sees us with our selections, his nose curls. “That’s hardly enough!”

He stands and stops the clerk, who is heading back out with the two racks from our dressing rooms. He pulls two more items off the racks. One is the full-length halter dress with a midriff Ava had put back. I thought it looked stunning on her. The other is the silly shorts ensemble I rejected. I don’t even try to argue.

We head to the checkout, and I almost have a heart attack when I hear the total. Ava cuts her eyes at me, and I hand over the black card sadly.

“At this rate, we’ll be broke by noon,” I say, but Reggie catches my wrist.

“No, no.” He pulls my hand back and hands the clerk his card. “I’ll get this.”

Relief washes over me, I won’t lie. Even though we’re pretty much committed at this point, I like the idea that I still have ten-K should we decide to bolt.

From that store, we head to Alexander McQueen, where we pick up several unusual evening gowns in mostly black with turquoise butterflies all over them. Ava chooses a neon-pink chiffon mini-dress with a black leather bustier-style vest, and while I can’t imagine where she’ll wear it, I also have no idea what our future holds.

Finally, Reggie decides we’ve bought enough, and we make our way through the jungle walkway back to the entrance where I expect the black Mercedes to be waiting.

Ava hums softly as we walk, and I notice she’s holding a round piece of dark chocolate near her mouth. It looks very fine and decadent, and she takes her time consuming it.

“Where did you get that?” I whisper, my stomach pinching.

“What?” She snaps out of her spell and realizes I’m watching her eat. “Oh! Here—” The large fanny pack I rejected is now tied around her waist with a satin bow. She unzips it and holds it open so I can see a pile of identical chocolates to the one she’s holding inside.

“Where did you get all these?”

She shrugs. “They were on a tray inside the last store.”

“Ava!” I start to laugh. Reaching in, I take one of the smooth chocolates from her bag and eat it.

I have to stop walking when the rich flavor fills my mouth. “Oh my god. That is so good.”

“I know, right? Have another one.”

I’m holding the second stolen treat to my lips as we walk. Reggie’s up ahead of us, and my eyes travel to the second floor and around the treetops. Birds sing, and the air smells like rain. My anxiety about our future has diminished with our new wardrobe packed up and headed to our hotel. I suppose that’s what they call “retail therapy.”

“I’ve cancelled your room at the New Yorker,” Reggie says once we exit the courtyard. “Your few belongings have been sent to the St. Regis where I’m staying.”

I freeze in the crosswalk, but Ava pulls my arm. “Come on,” she says. “You’re going to get run over.”

“Wait—you cancelled our room? You moved our stuff? How—”

“Your questions all have the same answer, my dear.” Reggie grumbles as he holds open the heavy glass door of the high-rise luxury hotel just across the street from the lavish mall. “Instead of how, you should be asking why, which I’ll save you the trouble. We need to be close so we can spend our remaining time going over everything you need to know about your new identity.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to learn much if it’s going to be an accidental meeting,” I follow him into the shimmering elevator. Ava leans her forehead against the glass wall and looks down as we shoot up to the fourteenth floor.

“You won’t have to learn much about him, but you do need to decide where you went to college, your major of study, your favorite designer, place to eat, resort destination—”

“So I have to tell lies.” That gross feeling trickles through my stomach, carrying all my hesitations about this job right back with it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Perhaps it won’t come up, but in case it does, yes. You might have to tell a few… half-truths. An heiress of your caliber has more experience than an afternoon shopping at Bal Harbor.”

My lips press together, and as much as I hate it, he’s right. “I see what you mean.”

“But you’ll have done quite a bit of traveling when we arrive. Perhaps some of your answers will be true by the time you give them.” He uses a slim white card to unlock our door then hands it to me. “We’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow and get started. I’m right across the hall if you need anything. Your new wardrobe should be delivered within the hour. I want us on the plane for Monagasco in two days, so get some rest.”

It’s all moving so fast. My shoulders are tight as we enter the expansive suite. Ava squeals as she runs across to the wide balcony. We have a clear view of the ocean from fourteen floors up, and I peek into the marble-lined bathroom. My jaw drops. It’s as big as the room, and has a shower and a tub!

“We have to celebrate!” Ava’s back, opening the well-stocked mini-fridge and pulling out a pink bottle of Veuve Clicquot Rose. “It’s like we’re living in a dream!”

All the clothes and pampering and tropical gardens distracted my insides, but now I’m back to straight-up worrying. “I don’t know, Aves. What if this is a mistake?”

The cork pops, and she wrinkles her nose at me. “Don’t start that again. We’re helping Reggie take back his country!”

“From some crown prince we know nothing about!” I watch as she pours two tall glasses with pink sparkling wine. “What if he’s really the good guy?”

A clink and she takes a sip. “Mmm,” she smiles, eyes closed. “I’m willing to take that chance.”

I try mine. Not bad. Only very slightly sweet, but mostly crisp and refreshing.

Her eyes pop open again, and she holds my arm. “Listen to me, Zee. We only said we’d go with him. We haven’t made any promises. If we get over there, and it turns out he’s really the bad guy, we’ll leave!” Pressing my lips together, I watch as she lays back on the bed. “In the meantime, we get to go to Europe! And all those clothes…”

“I’m going to talk to Reggie again.” Ava calls after me, but I’m out the door and across the hall banging on Reggie’s door before she can stop me.

A few moments pass, and he opens the door. His navy blazer is gone, and now he’s only in khaki pants and the white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. If not for his posture and the way he carried himself, I would’ve mistaken him for a regular person he’s so casual.

“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” he says, stepping back and allowing me to enter. “Aren’t you tired from all that shopping?”

I’m exhausted, but I’m not letting him deter me from my reason for being here. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do. I intend for us to do quite a lot of talking. Tomorrow.” He crosses his room and lifts his own slim glass of pink champagne. “Tonight, order room service, take a hot bath, relax.”

My brow lines, and my fists go to my hips. It’s a defensive stance, but I have to know. “Are you being honest with us, Reggie?”

He sits in the beige chair that matches the one in our room across the hall. “About what?”

The question exasperates me. “All of it. The crown prince, the money—”

“Look.” The cool tone in his voice cuts the heat in the room like ice. “I know you’re used to small-time cons, selfish games, working only for yourself and for the score. Get that out of your head. You’ve gone beyond counting cards and manipulating roulette wheels. This is politics. Government. Lives are at stake. You’re helping to save a country.”

A faint echo follows his last words, then for a moment the only noise is the hum of the window unit. I take a few moments to consider what he said. I think about what little I know of politics and the deals made to run governments. We don’t want to see how it works just as much as we don’t want to see the sausage being made—at least that’s what I’ve heard. Now I’m a part of it.

“But how do I know which is the right side?” I’m not angry. It’s an honest question.

His steel-blue eyes meet mine, all seriousness. “How does anyone ever know that? History will tell us. In the meantime, we simply fight for the right.”

“You make me sound like a hero.”

“You never know.”

Fast-forward to the Ball

An elegant older woman snaps at my escort. “How dare you show your face here tonight?” I have no idea who she is, but she’s someone powerful enough to chastise Reggie.

“Forgive me, your grace.” Reggie bows, and for the first time, I see him genuinely meek.

“Rowan will be furious! You’ll ruin all my plans.” Her eyes flash, and I take a subtle half step behind him, hoping in my black dress I blend into the rave atmosphere.

“Not if I come bearing gifts,” he says, motioning to me. “Would introducing him to the heiress to the Benedict oil fortune appease my nephew’s wrath?”

I actually feel the moment her ice blue eyes spot me. “Come here, girl,” she barks the order, and I dutifully step forward on my needle-thin heels.

“Zelda, may I present the Queen of Monagasco,” Reggie says.

The words make my pulse jump. Holding the side of my dress, I do a careful curtsey, bowing my head. “Your majesty.”

“You’re Zelda Benedict? Daughter of the Texas oil tycoon?”

“Niece, actually, ma’am.” My head is still bowed, both because I don’t want to risk her reading my expression and because I’m not sure when it’s okay to rise.

“That’s enough, you may rise.”

Straightening, I see she’s stepped closer to me. Our eyes are about the same height, which means she’s taller than me. She also bears a striking resemblance to Reggie…

“You’re here to meet my son, is that so?”

“I’m sorry, your majesty, I’m here as a guest of Sir Winchester. My… friend and I met him in Texas, and he has been gracious enough to escort us to your beautiful country on a holiday visit—”

“Yes, yes,” she waves a hand between us as if she’s heard enough. “That will do. You might as well get in line with the rest of them. The crown prince has danced with almost every girl here tonight, and I haven’t seen a spark of interest in any of them.” She shakes her head and turns. “Unless you count that first dance with Fredrick’s niece. Of course, he chooses a lesbian to have chemistry with.”

Her statement catches me off-guard, and I almost laugh. “Thank you, ma’am,” I say and do another careful curtsey-bow.

“Come with me, Reggie. I’ll allow you to tell me your plan, and perhaps I can soften my son’s anger.” The woman takes his arm and pulls him away. He looks back and gives me an arched eyebrow and a slight nod.

I flick an eyebrow in response. I know what to do. I have two purposes tonight: to be seen and to make a positive impression. I do my best not to be annoyed every time Reggie emphasizes the word positive, as if I might do otherwise.

With him gone and everyone focused elsewhere, I take a moment to exhale slowly. We’re here, we’re doing this. The song changes to a dance tune I know from home, and I close my eyes as the beats wash over me like soothing water. If things were different, I’d go out on the floor and give in to the rhythm. As it is…

“Oh!” I yip, nearly jumping out of my skin when a strong hand closes over mine.

“Sorry.” A low, accented voice vibrates near my ear, causing the little hairs to rise on my skin. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Mademoiselle.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say quickly.

He scared the shit out of me, but that luscious accent is to die for. My poker face is firmly intact—until our eyes meet, and I almost forget everything. His are warm hazel with the most irresistible, devilish twinkle in them. He has wavy, light-brown hair that my fingers itch to caress, and he’s wearing a navy military jacket, which surprisingly turns me on. I’ve never been into military men before… most likely because of my checkered past. I run away from men in uniform.

Actually, in the past I’ve done my best to avoid all male entanglements entirely. If I’m going to take care of us, I can’t afford such distractions. Whoever this sexy soldier is, I can tell one thing right away. He’s a player, from the dimple at the corner of his mouth to the scruff dusting his square jaw. He smiles, and my stomach flips.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” That naughty grin grows a little wider. “You’re American?”

I take a step back. Focus on the job, Zelda Wilder. Focus on that ten thousand dollars.

“No,” I say, clearing my throat. “I mean yes! I’m visiting. I’m here with my… friend!”

Jesus! That’s twice I’ve almost said my sister! And I was worried about Ava being confident in her role.

“Visiting?” He slides a warm hand around my waist and pulls me flush against his torso. A brief kiss to my cheek steals my breath. “Is that so? Tell me more.”

A sultry dance song begins, and we sway together. I have to hand it to this guy. He’s good. Still, I’m no rookie, and I force my control back in place. I haven’t worked the angles as long as I have to be thrown off by the first charmer I meet.

“My friend and I are from Texas. I’ve always wanted to see Monagasco, so she came over with me.”

“It is your first time in our country?” His smile grows and that dimple deepens. “I’ll show you everything. Where are you staying? We can meet in the morning—”

“No! I mean… I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

“What? Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m… well…”

“You’re…?” His eyes narrow playfully, and I’m racking my brain for an acceptable excuse. I can’t say I’m here to accidentally meet someone in particular.

“Oh! I already have a guide!” Real smooth, Zee.

“Is that so?” He’s not buying it. “Who?”

Luckily we’re interrupted by the sudden appearance of Reggie. “Cal, what a pleasant surprise.” The tone of his voice implies just the opposite, and he grips the shoulder of my dance partner firmly, forcing us apart.

“Holy… What the fuck are you doing here?” Sir Sexy Cal snaps. “You know what will happen when he sees you. It will ruin HRH’s ball.”

Reggie ignores his words. “I see you’ve met my friend Zelda Benedict.” Yanking me to his side, Reggie motions between us. “Zelda, this is MacCallum Lockwood Tate, younger brother of the crown prince, heir presumptive, captain of the Carabiniers, and Duke of Dumaldi.”

Something about all those titles makes my head spin. How is it possible I find this guy even more attractive once I know I’m supposed to be seducing his brother?

Taking a half step back, I start my bow, but Cal’s warm hand covers mine. “My friends call me Cal, and absolutely none of them bow to me… Unless they get off on that sort of thing. Do you?”

My cheeks heat, and dammit if I don’t want to kiss those royal lips. “It’s an honor to meet you, Sir. I had no idea I’d be surrounded by so much nobility my first night in town.”

Cal moves around to my other side, avoiding Reggie’s cock blocking, and pulls my hand into the crook of his arm. “Now about that tour guide. You can’t tell me Sir Reginald is showing you around. Mon Dieu, he’ll probably take you to the aquarium.”

I want to laugh. His manner is irresistible, but I feel Reggie’s gaze burning a hole in my back. “I’m sorry, your majesty—”

“Cal—please.”

“Cal.” I pull my hand back. “I’m sorry, but I already promised the duke.”

“I’m a duke! Didn’t you hear all that shit he said after my name? I’d make a far better tour guide.”

I can’t suppress a smile, and Cal’s eyes light. “Yes, that’s much better. Why don’t we start our tour with the royal bedrooms?”

“That will be quite enough for tonight.” Reggie reaches between us and jerks me away. I have to grab his arm to stay upright on my heels—with a new added hazard: Cal’s breathtaking smile. “We need to find your friend and bid our adieus.”

Reggie drags me away, but I can’t resist a look back at the tall, slender fellow in the tuxedo. His arms are crossed, and he actually winks as he places one hand on his lips. Is he sending me a kiss?

I’m out the door and on the balcony, but my head’s in a dreamy haze of MacCallam Lockwood Tate, brother of the crown prince, some kind of soldier, and duke of somethingorother.

Reggie steps away from me in a rush and begins talking fast French to a tall man with longish dark hair. I squint to try and see who it is. He’s also wearing a black tuxedo jacket with medals and a sash across the front.

It takes me a moment to realize Ava is at my arm apologizing, and then, holy shit, it’s him! Reggie’s back, and I’m facing Crown Prince Rowan Something Something. I recognize him from the photographs Reggie showed me, and he’s even hotter and more intimidating in person.

“Your royal highness Rowan Westringham Tate, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Zelda Benedict of Texas and Miss Ava Wilder.”

“How do you do,” the crown prince bows stiffly, but before anything more is said, he and Reggie stalk away from us, again embroiled in a heated conversation I can’t understand.

Ava drifts toward the ballroom, but I wait and watch the two men. With a chiseled jaw and simmering blue eyes, he’s as handsome in person as he is in his pictures. From the way he holds himself, I’m sure he knows it, too.

He’s very formal and controlled, and the way he moves and speaks to Reggie reminds me of one of those billionaires Ava’s always stealing from. He’s forceful and clearly used to getting his way in everything. I can’t help wondering if he ever laughs.

They turn, and I snap out of my fantasies. Rowan apologizes for his rudeness (I don’t remember him being rude to me). We agree to meet tomorrow, and with that, he stalks away from us.

“Okay,” I whisper, watching the muscles in Reggie’s jaw move as he looks back toward the ballroom.

The game is on.

6

DUTY

Rowan

THE TECHNICOLOR-blue water of the Mediterranean is nearly blinding this morning. The salt in the air touches my tongue and fills my nose with scents of fish and days at sea. I imagine taking a boat and sailing far from this irritating place—a beautiful brunette stretched across the bow.

It’s true, my mind is miles away, focused on emerald-green eyes, sweet olive skin, and pink lips that part to reveal a lovely white smile. I’ve been thinking about her all night, longing for her, if I’m honest. I escaped from the ball shortly after she left and returned to our estate at Occitan.

Relaxing under the warm spray of my shower, I slid my hand over my rigid cock, relieving my aching desire as I fantasized about the little dip where her collarbones meet at the base of her neck. I pictured tracing my tongue across the bead of her nipple, down to the curve of her waist.

My hand moved faster as I remembered her soft voice, imagined her cries as she came. The prospect of her long legs wrapped around me, being sunk deep into her clenching hot core, had me coming hard under the warm jets. Still, my hand is no comparison to what I imagine the real thing must be like…

I’ve stood here several minutes, quietly musing, when I realize Cal is standing beside me also silent, looking at the water in a pensive way—very unusual for him.

“I’m surprised you’re not giving me shit about the ball,” I say, interrupting his reverie.

Blinking out of it, he frowns up at me. “What’s that? Oh.” He nods. “I think you held up pretty well, considering the circumstances.”

“Well, that’s pretty lame of you.”

“Should I call you Cindy? Or do you prefer Ella.”

“There it is.” Grasping his shoulder, I catch sight of Reginald headed our way. “And here he is.” I straighten, all pleasurable thoughts gone.

Cal’s voice is low. “What the hell do you think he’s up to?”

“No telling, but I intend to keep my eye on him.”

“I’ll help with that.”

My uncle stops in front of us and does an obligatory bow. “Your highness. Thank you for meeting me.”

“You’re not supposed to be alone.” I’m only here because I had hoped to see Ava again.

“The ladies are behind me, but I wanted to come ahead to be sure we were on the same page with this.”

“What the devil is this about, Reg?” Cal steps forward, arms crossed.

“The young lady I introduced you to last night is what you might call American royalty.”

“Is that so?”

This makes me laugh. “America doesn’t have royalty. They have reality TV.”

“Either way, you’d do well to give her a chance. She could be the answer to your problem.”

“She’s not the answer to anything. My mother, the council, all the old crones and their husbands won’t be satisfied unless I marry someone of noble birth, who will strengthen us politically and hopefully economically.”

As I say the words, my insides feel like they’re shriveling. I want to find Ava, spend more time with her. I want to know how she grew up, her favorite flowers, where she went to school, if she has a favorite movie…

Reggie interrupts my longings. “What Zelda Benedict brings to the table makes up for all that antiquated formality. Besides, your grandfather married an American.”

“The country was healthy and prosperous at the time.”

What Reggie knows about my problems is actually very little. My goal is to move the country away from oil dependence, and I’ve been working toward that goal since I was prematurely shoved into leadership. Still, if playing along with him means I’ll get to see more of Ava, I’m happy to comply.

Crossing my arms, I feign interest in his scheme. “What exactly is your plan?”

“I said I’d show her the city. You can take over those duties for me today. Spend time together, and we can meet up for dinner at your estate this evening.”

“What about her friend? Will she be joining us?”

My uncle glances at my brother. “Cal can take care of her. Give you and Zee some alone time.”

“Right! Because I don’t have any plans today.” Cal’s is sarcastic, but I’m right there with him. Last thing I want is to hand Ava over to him.

“I think we should all stay together.”

Reginald shrugs. “It would be better if you had some time one-on-one, but perhaps starting out with doubles is a less threatening approach.”

A flash of color behind him catches my eye, and I look up to see the ladies walking toward us. Ava is wearing a thin yellow dress that ripples in the breeze. She’s like sunshine and fresh breezes, making my whole day feel brighter. Zelda is wearing something similar.

“Hello, my dears!” My uncle starts toward them, stopping to do the customary kiss on the cheek.

I glance over at Cal, and a peculiar expression is on his face. It’s a mixture of satisfaction and desire, and I follow his eyes back to where my uncle is standing with the two women. I can’t tell which one he’s looking at, and I have to fight back the surge of possessiveness that it might be Ava.

“Meeting someone and marrying her are two vastly different things,” I say to him quietly.

“I couldn’t agree more.” His reply is as forceful as mine.

“Despite what Reggie said, I’m not holding out hope for his plan to work.”

“Neither am I.” My brother starts toward the ladies, leaving me frowning after him.

I have no idea what he’s thinking, but hell if I let him get the jump on me. Moving quickly, I join the group.

“Good morning,” I say, smiling and giving the two ladies a nod. They each start to curtsey, but I interrupt. “I think we can dispense with the formalities at this point.”

“Thank you,” Zelda smiles, and her eyes are fixed on me, almost as if she’s trying not to look at anyone else. “Reginald said you’d like to show us the Oceanographic Museum?”

A noise like a strangled laugh comes from Cal.

“The aquarium?” I ask. “It is on most tourists’ To Do list when they first visit our country. We can actually walk there from here.”

“That sounds lovely,” Ava says softly, and my eyes drink in her beautiful face.

For a moment I can’t find words. I want to say Not as lovely as you, but it’s a cheesy line, and it definitely would not fit into Reggie’s master plan, which for now I’m pretending to follow. Cal’s eyes are on me, and I know he’s waiting.

“Miss Wilder have you met my brother?”

Ava’s eyes hold mine in a way that causes stirring below my belt. They glow like green embers, and I’ll be lucky if I make it through the day without stealing a kiss.

“MacCallum Lockwood Tate, can you believe it?” My brother steps forward, turning on all the charm. I hate when her gaze moves from me to him.

“I like it,” she says with a smile. “I’m Ava.”

“Call me Cal.”

She slips a hand into the crook of his arm, and with a sigh, I turn to Miss Benedict, who I notice is watching them with what seems to be equal disappointment. It’s gone in a blink, however, and she gives me another forced smile.

“You’re too kind to take time out of your busy schedule for us. I can’t imagine what all goes into running a country.”

“We’re only a small nation-state,” I say, allowing her to hold my arm. “I had several meetings yesterday before the ball, and I’ll be in my office this afternoon. It’s not such an inconvenience.” She nods, and I remember Reggie’s last instructions. “I hope you and your friend will join us for dinner tonight at our estate in Occitan.”

“Is it in the country?”

“It’s just outside of town, down by the shore.”

“We’d be honored. It sounds beautiful.”

We’re quiet again. Cal and Ava are ahead of us chatting away like old friends. He waves at one of the buildings, and Ava’s soft laughter floats back. It’s like knives stabbing me in the chest. I tear my eyes away from them.

“I’ll send a car to the Fontaine at seven.”

“Great.”

Her voice sounds less enthused, and I glance over to find her pink lips pressed into a thin line. She’s watching the pair ahead of us, but suddenly, she blinks up at me as if remembering something. “Have you always lived here?”

“I was born in Monagasco, so yes. It’s my home.”

“Okay…” she nods, her light blonde ponytail bouncing around her shoulders. Her heels click on the red brick pavement. “Do you have any favorite hobbies or anything?”

We’re at the entrance to the large museum, and I hold the door for her. Cal and Ava are already inside chatting with the curator.

“I used to race, but I don’t have much time for it anymore.” Much to my chagrin…

“Race? As in horses?”

“Formula One. We have quite a famous competition here every spring. It’s actually just a few weeks from now.”

“That sounds exciting. Will you be in it?”

“No.” Regret is a constant when it comes to my old pastime. It seems Miss Benedict is a quick study.

“I think you might rather be on the track than here with us.” Blue eyes slant up at me.

“Nonsense. I’m happy spending time with you and your friend.”

“Wow! Would you look at that!” She dashes ahead to the enormous, twenty-seven-foot octopus covering the ceiling in the main entrance of the museum. Its massive tentacles are spread all over the walls and around several of the pillars. I’ve seen it before, but it’s still overwhelming. “It’s incredible!”

I watch a moment as she turns in a circle looking up. Cal walks to her, hands in his pockets.“Pretty impressive, isn’t it? My great uncle wanted this to be as much about art as about the underwater world. We have Jacques Cousteau’s submarine further down in the great hall.”

Zee reaches out to hold Cal’s forearm, and he guides her down the vast hallway while she continues looking up at all the sights. A giant squid hangs behind the octopus, and an enormous whale skeleton is after that.

I’m confident they’ll be occupied for a while, and I take my chance to find the beautiful Ava. As Cal led Zelda away, I noticed her disappearing into the dark hall labeled “Dangers of the Sea.”

The exhibit twists around huge tanks of jellyfish, coral, and sea anemone. The space is dark except for the black lights illuminating the strange creatures.

“They’re really beautiful, aren’t they?” Ava speaks, and my stomach tightens.

“It’s always been my favorite part of the museum.”

“Look at that one!” She points a slim finger at a Portuguese man of war the size of my torso. Thick tentacles extend down as it floats in the current.

“They have no mouths, but they’re able to consume entire fish.”

“We used to get those in Florida. They have a horrible sting—much worse than jellyfish.”

“When were you in Florida?” I lean on the wooden rail surrounding the tank, watching as the purple lights flicker in her eyes.

She hesitates a moment before continuing. “I grew up there. I guess that’s something we have in common. Were you able to go to the beach a lot growing up?”

“All the time. Cal and I would spend every day playing in the surf when we were kids.”

“So being royal isn’t that much different from being any other kid on the beach?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Most kids don’t have guards lurking around the sand dunes.”

She wrinkles her nose in an adorable way and starts to walk. I push off the rail and follow her. “I suppose they couldn’t risk losing the two of you. Who would be the king?”

“We have that all worked out in our constitution.”

That makes her stop. “You have a constitution?”

The surprise on her face makes me laugh. “How do you think our government is organized?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you did whatever you wanted and told everyone what to do.”

That makes me laugh more. “Our government hasn’t operated that way in centuries, although, I think Cal wishes it still did.”

“Still, you can do anything you want.”

Watching her walk through the dark space, I can only wish that were true. “You might not believe it, but I probably have less freedom to do what I want than you do.”

“Tell me about it.” She turns and leans against the wooden railing.

Stepping up beside her, I watch the glowing orange clown fish swim along the coral reef. They dart in and out of the swaying pinkish-purple venomous plants without even hesitating.

I lean forward on the railing, and the warmth of Ava’s body is right at my side. Without hesitation, I gently lift her hand in mine, threading our fingers like the swaying tentacles.

“Everything I do now is tied up in the good of Monagasco.”

“How does that change what you can and can’t do?” Her voice is soft, and I turn to find her green eyes round and full of concern.

“You’re very beautiful.”

Pink floods her cheeks, and her chin drops. Reaching out, I touch the soft skin of her jaw, lifting her face with my finger. Her soft lips part, and she blinks fast, gazing at my mouth. We’re hidden in the darkness, only a breath apart. The slightest dip, and I’ll have her. My lips ache for hers, and as I lean forward to have my first taste, Cal’s fucking voice cuts through the silence.

“Now this is my all-time favorite part of the aquarium. It’s dark and winding. Loads of places to make out.”

Zelda laughs. “Somehow I get the feeling you know all the good make-out spots in all the historic places.”

“How well you know me already, Miss Benedict.”

“I met your kind in school.”

“You probably drove them all crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava whispers, slipping from my grasp and hurrying to where they’re talking.

My head, shoulders, and hand drop, and for a moment, I grip the wooden rail with all the strength of my frustration. It makes a creaking noise, and I release it. No use destroying historic property. I follow slowly after them, thinking ahead to tonight, after dinner, walking through the garden maze or along the shore. We will finish what we started.

7

PLAYING

Zelda

“YOU’RE GOING TOO FAST!” I cry as Cal pulls me through the great hall under skeletons that make me feel the size of a toddler.

Today, he’s dressed casually in khakis and a light blue shirt with a darker blazer on top. I want to say I’ll just look at him. Instead I move too close as I pass him, or I hold his arm. I can’t seem to stop touching him.

“I want to see the whale skeleton.”

At that he stops and turns so suddenly, I run right into his chest. I actually let out an Oof!

“Hello, there!” He grins down at me as I hold his waist, his strong arms surrounding me, sending heat surging between my legs. “What interests you most in this moldy old building?”

I can barely think with his face so close to mine. That dimple is back, and his hazel eyes sparkle. You? No, can’t say that.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.”

“Hm… I see your point.”

Remembering my job, I push myself out of his embrace and straighten my dress. “Like this!” I say, pointing up. “Can you believe how big that is? I could fit in that thing’s stomach along with four other people.”

He steps beside me and looks up at the whale bones. His body is warm, and I imagine leaning into him.

“Oh! And the jewelry—I want to see the Ocean tiara!”

“Hm… I saw that on my aunt’s head. You need to see the deep sea room. It’s the coolest thing in the place.”

I meet his eyes, and his expression darkens. It makes me feel like a tiny fish is trapped in my chest, struggling to get out.

“Where is it?” I manage to say.

His hand covers mine again, and we start down the wide marble staircase to the floor below. Glancing out the impossibly wide windows, I see the sparkling turquoise waters of the Mediterranean and pull us to a stop.

“Wait!” I’m on the second step breathing hard, looking at the gorgeousness from this luxurious palace of a museum. “Look how beautiful.”

He’s looking at me, but he steps up beside me and looks out the window. “I grew up looking at that—”

“Lucky.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he laughs softly. “You make me see it for the first time.”

Tearing my eyes away from the ocean, I meet his gaze. I don’t have time to think before his long fingers thread in the back of my hair pulling my mouth roughly to his. A little noise aches from my throat as he pushes my lips apart and finds my tongue with his. Heat floods my pelvis, I taste fresh water and cinnamon, and my entire body is on fire. I don’t think, I only respond, sliding a hand along the back of his neck and chasing his tongue with mine. He holds me firmly against his body, and it’s so good.

“Cal,” I gasp as our lips part.

Our foreheads touch, and I can’t open my eyes. I’m breathing so fast. His kiss singed my spine. It curled my toes. I haven’t been kissed like that… possibly ever—by choice. I take a step back, holding his forearms out and away from me. My lips are throbbing.

When my eyes blink open, he’s giving me that look again, like he’s waiting for me to give him the signal. Instead I turn and continue walking down the steps, holding the wide, marble rail for balance.

“I thought we were going to see the deep sea room.” My voice is only a little wobbly, not nearly as wobbly as my insides.

He lets out a little sigh and heads down ahead of me, quickly descending the staircase as if he’s done it a hundred times. “Come on, then.”

I get myself together and follow him. This prince seriously throws me off my game. I’ve got to remember who I am. I’m Zelda Wilder, professional con woman. This isn’t my first rodeo. Still, that’s one irresistible cowboy…

Inside the dark room, a woman with two small children is walking around. She lifts them, helping them touch the ceiling and watching as they squeal when the computer-generated fish swarm to where their hands land.

I’m frozen on the spot watching something so basic and wondering why a sight like this still has the power to shred me. Ava was too little to remember our mom, but I remember her taking us to the park, helping me climb the ladder of the small kiddie slide, squealing when I made it to the bottom. I thought that slide was so huge, but looking back, I know it was probably shorter than I am now. Those days were golden… and then they were gone.

“You’re a million miles away, beautiful.” Cal is at my side. His voice is warm, and I notice his fingers lightly playing with mine. Everything in me wants to give in, but dammit, that’s not why we’re here. Our future, that promise I made to Ava, is on the line. I won’t give it up for some weeklong fling with a sexy player.

“I’m a million miles under the sea!” I answer brightly, pulling my hand away and walking across the room. “How does it work?”

I reach up and touch the ceiling and the entire room shifts in my direction. Fish flock to me, circling my hand. The woman follows the children out, and we’re alone again.

“It’s some computer jazz. I have no idea.”

“That’s not your job?” I do a little wink, and his expression seems to falter. Is it possible I throw him off his game, too?

“Precisely,” he says, reaching up to touch the low ceiling. The school moves in response to him.

“No fair! You stole my fish.”

“Here, I’ll bring them back.” He walks slowly toward me, trailing long fingers along the smooth surface above us.

His expression grows darker with every step, and my heart beats faster the closer he gets. I can play it off, but my body betrays me. I feel the flush blooming over my chest, rising up my neck.

When he arrives at where I’m standing, he slides his hand forward, taking one last step that puts our bodies together. Our hands touch, our faces are a breath apart. His firm chest is warm against my tingling nipples. The space between us is electric. Neon-green fish circle us overhead, swimming forward to kiss our fingertips.

“I want to kiss you again.” His dark eyes are on my heated lips.

“We can’t.” My breath is shallow. This is so messed up, but I can’t pull away from him.

“How long will you be here, Zelda Benedict?”

“Umm… A week?”

“Are you not sure?”

“We’re not on a deadline.”

His breath touches my cheek. “About that kiss…”

Oh my god. “We’d better find Ava and Rowan.”

“Are you afraid?”

Yes, very. “I… I didn’t come here for this.”

Jesus, I’ve never been good at seduction, but I’ll be damned if his expression doesn’t grow darker with every word. I lower my hand slowly, not wanting to leave our magic, undersea bubble.

“Why did you come here?”

My eyes travel around the undersea exhibit as I think of a good answer. “I’d never been to Monagasco.” At least it’s not a lie.

“Zee…” His voice aches in my chest, and the bargaining begins.

Would it truly mess up our deal if I give in to him? Would anybody even know? Would anybody even care? Holy shit, Zelda Scott Wilder! Of course they would! It would ruin everything!

Stepping back, I turn to the door and cover for my running from him in the most juvenile way possible: “Last one to the top’s a rotten egg!”

What I don’t count on is Cal being as competitive as I am. He’s past me in a flash, and even catches my shoulder, pushing me backwards, almost making me fall.

“Cheater!” I squeal through my laughter as I try to keep up.

“Eat my dust!” He takes the wide stairs two at a time, while I’m still scampering like a duck.

“Damn these damn stupid steps!” I cry.

When I finally reach the top, he’s leaning against a massive pillar with a giant bronze sea horse on top looking at his nails. “Hmm… what is that smell? Could it be you, Miss Rotten Egg?”

“You cheated!” I push hard against his chest. “You shoved me backwards!”

“I always win.”

He catches my hands, and when our eyes meet we’re right back where we were in the basement. MacCallam Lockwood Tate is going to ruin my life.

“Come on,” I say, pulling away and heading in the direction I last saw Ava. “Dangers of the Sea” is what I think it said. It should be “Dangers of the Palace.” Reggie didn’t say anything about sexy younger brothers.

When we make it to the black-lit exhibit of jellyfish, sea anemones, and all other kinds of stinging fish, Ava gives me a look, and the worry in her eyes hits me like a sledgehammer. I am seriously screwing up everything.

She’s probably been wondering where the hell I’ve been, and I just abandoned her to figure it out. As I approach, she hurries to me and catches my hand, holding me back as the guys walk on ahead of us.

“We should go back to the hotel.” She sounds stressed, and I feel even worse. “It’s after three, and we’re supposed to have dinner with them at seven.”

Nodding, I give her hand a reassuring squeeze, mentally noting how much it reassures me as well.

“Hey, guys?” I call out before I realize… Is it okay to address a crown prince as guy? Must be because they’re all smiles strolling back to us. “We should probably head back if we’re meeting for dinner. It’s gotten late.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Rowan says, his eyes drifting to Ava. “I hope we didn’t tire you too much for dinner?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer. “Just need time to freshen up.”

His eyes remain on my sister, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even make eye contact with him or Cal. It’s because she’s mad at me. I feel so guilty.

Although we walked to the museum, Rowan insists we take his car back. Less than ten minutes later we’re in our luxury suite in the Fairmont. I walk straight through the sitting room and fall on my stomach on the sea-green sofa.

“Holy smokes, I’m dead!”

Ava perches on the edge of a chair facing me, and I watch as she pulls a delicate gold chain from her pocket. Dangling in evenly spaced increments are a tiny starfish, a seahorse, a sand dollar, a pirate’s wheel.

“Let me see it!” I hop up and go to where she’s sitting, examining the pretty bracelet. “Where did you get it?”

“Off the wrist of a tour guide,” she says, turning it over in her hands. “I wanted something to remember this day.”

“So it’s a little something for you this time? How selfish!” I give her a wink and sit back on my knees beside her.

“You’re right. I was very selfish.” Her voice is quiet, almost sad.

“You’d also be off-balance. You still have to find someone special to give that herringbone bracelet.”

Her pink lips press together, and she blinks down to the carpet. “I think I’ll skip the dinner tonight.”

“Skip dinner! Are you sick?” I press my palm against her forehead. “No fever.”

She shakes her head. “I got a little dizzy at the aquarium. I think I just need to sleep.”

“I’ll text Reggie that we can’t make it tonight.”

“No!” Her hand shoots out, grabbing my phone. “You have to make the most of this. Get his attention, one on one.”

I study her face. It’s a mixture of happiness and misery, and again, I feel like a traitor.

“I’m sorry I left you so long. I kind of got… tied up with Cal in the deep sea room.” Memories of his kiss, of his touch filter through my mind, and I do a little shiver.

“You need to get back on track with Rowan tonight. Take advantage of my absence.”

She relaxes into one of the bucket chairs and picks up a magazine. I watch her for any signs of irritation or anger. I don’t see any. She just seems… sad.

“You’re right,” I say, lying on the couch again. “I have to try harder. Be a better actress. All my jobs require a certain degree of acting. No reason this one should be different.”

Her eyes fly to mine. “You have to act?”

“Yeah…” Now I feel uncomfortable. “I mean, he’s gorgeous and built, and those blue eyes are stunning, but I don’t know. He’s just another spoiled elitist snob, don’t you think?”

She flushes and looks away, not answering, and for a few moments we’re quiet. Her eyes are fixed on the magazine, but she turns the pages too quickly. I wait a few minutes longer as she keeps flipping.

“Okay, then,” I finally say. “I guess I should start getting ready.”

With a sigh, she stands and goes to her bedroom. “Have fun tonight,” she says softly before closing her door.

If I weren’t committed to this job, I wouldn’t go anywhere tonight. Ava’s acting weird, and I don’t know if she’s really not feeling well or if it’s something more. My phone chirps with a text, and I see it’s Reggie.

Any progress with CPR?

Pressing my lips together, I study his question for a moment trying to think of how to answer. The short answer is no. As much as I try to get to know Rowan, he seems pretty stiff and disinterested. I have loads more fun hanging out with Cal, which of course is counterproductive.

I finally text back, Not as much as I’d like.

A nice walk on the beach at sunset will break the ice. Perhaps a damsel in distress act?

You want me to try drowning?

Nothing so dramatic. Think about it. See you in a bit.

Think about it. That’s all I’ve been doing for the last twenty-four hours. I’ve got to do like Ava said and try to regain ground. Damsel in distress… Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

8

CONFUSION

Rowan

WHEN REGGIE and Zee arrive for dinner, my chest caves. Ava’s not with them. “Hello, Miss Benedict,” I force a smile. “Welcome to my humble home.”

Her eyes are wide as they circle the vast foyer. White marble floors are dotted with small, brown diamonds. Arches overhead with images of blue skies and clouds painted on the ceiling, and the Occitan cross sprinkled throughout.

“It’s amazing,” she whispers, looking around. Her eyes snap back to me when Cal appears at the top of the curved staircase.

“Hello, below!” He trots down the stairs, but when he reaches us, my uncle leaves his escort and walks toward him.

“Cal, would you mind showing me a map of the vineyards at Cote d’Azur?”

“What?” My brother’s sunny disposition dims.

“Yes, I was telling a colleague the folle noir was outstanding. I want to see which vineyard he should visit.”

“Right now?”

“Come, come, it will only take a moment.”

The two of them set off in the direction of the library, and I’m left alone with Miss Benedict. She’s wearing beige leggings and a pale grey tunic sweater made of a fuzzy yarn like Mohair. One shoulder is exposed, and her pale blonde hair is styled in large curls over it. Her eye makeup makes me think of that singer.

Zelda Benedict is actually quite lovely. I look down at my hands as we walk through the entryway into the left hall. Mother is at the spa in Marins, so it’s up to me to play host.

“I hope your friend isn’t ill.” Yep, no getting away from where my mind is.

“She said she was tired. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Zelda’s voice is soft. At times, it reminds me of Ava’s, but I suppose it’s because they’re friends.

We’re in the living room, and I’m looking at the wet bar in the far corner. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”

She glances up and smiles. “It would be the real thing here, wouldn’t it?”

“It is from the Champagne appellation.”

I pour us each a glass of Canard-Duchene and we do a little clink.

“Mmm,” she sighs. “It’s delicious. Not bitter or sweet.”

“It’s my mother’s favorite.”

She walks to the small fountain stationed in the center of the wall. It flows down to a grate and provides ambient noise.

“Your life here is so lovely.” Her thoughts seem to be miles away. “I can’t imagine growing up like this, without a care in the world.”

I wasn’t prepared for her comment, and I pause a moment to think about how our lives here must appear. “Before my father died, I was quite selfish. I did whatever the hell I wanted to do without worrying about anyone.”

“Are you saying you’ve changed?”

I exhale a laugh. “No, I’m still quite selfish. The only difference is now I lament the things I wish I could do while I work on the things I should.”

“I suppose that’s the definition of being noble.”

“Something like that.”

Cal’s teasing voice cuts through our sudden solemnity. “Those are some seriously long faces to be sharing champagne. Pour me a glass, brother.”

“I’ll have one of those as well, Rowan.” Reggie says. “Your mother has excellent taste in wine.”

“Find what you were looking for back there?” I call, walking to the bar for two more glasses.

“Domaine de Toasc,” Reggie answers.

Zee seems suddenly on edge. She moves from the fountain over to where my uncle is standing as if for protection. I’ve just finished pouring when James enters the room.

“If your graces are ready, dinner is served.”

Zee takes Reggie’s arm, and we proceed through double doors into a dining room off the side of the living area. I’ve always appreciated the interior design of this room. The walls are beige stone, and exposed beams line the ceiling. A heavy mahogany table is in the center, with heavy, red-upholstered chairs surrounding it. Heavy red drapes hang beside enormous French-door windows overlooking the sea. It’s one of my favorite rooms in the house, strong and rugged.

Since it’s only the four of us, I sit at the head with Zelda on my left and Reggie on my right. Cal takes the seat on Zelda’s left.

“It’s been a while since I’ve dined at this table,” Reggie sighs. His observation pricks my annoyance at his return, but I let it pass.

“We don’t normally open the house this early in the season,” Cal says. “Mother wanted to come out. She missed being close enough to walk along the shore in the morning air.”

“It must be lovely to walk along the shore at sunrise.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Cal laughs. “I’m more of a ‘walk along the shore at sunset’ type.”

Her cheeks pink, and she looks down. It’s the softest I’ve seen Miss Benedict in the short time I’ve known her. I want to ask her about San Angelo, but the servers fill the room, setting gold-rimmed plates of dark green salads in front of each of us. Our champagne glasses are refilled, and I take a moment to do a little toast.

“To familiar places and new friends.”

We all touch our crystal together and dig into the bitter greens softened by the balsamic vinaigrette, feta, and cranberries. I catch Miss Benedict checking out the tall bodyguard passing outside the windows. Our eyes meet, and she gives me a little smile.

“I suppose you don’t even see them after a while.”

“Not true,” I say, returning her smile. “I’m actually very good friends with some of them. Comes with having them around everywhere.”

“Is it hard knowing they might stop someone from trying to kill you?”

“I don’t think about it that much. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She blushes bright red, which makes me laugh.

“I was only teasing you,” I say gently.

I reach out and cover her hand with mine. She starts to pull away, but at the same time, she checks herself and doesn’t. Strange.

My brother’s eyes are on our hands, and he breaks in. “Personally, I always feel better when ole Odd Job is behind the wheel.”

“Odd job?” she laughs, removing her hand from mine. “Isn’t that the guy from James Bond?”

“Are you still harassing poor Hajib?” Reggie says in mock disapproval. “You haven’t called him his proper name since you were boys.”

“He loves being called Odd Job,” Cal argues. “He never stopped us from saying it.”

“I’d like to see you correcting the future kings of Monagasco.” Our uncle quirks an eyebrow, and I can’t help remembering the days when my father was still alive.

We would come here in the late summers, and the three adults would congregate in the living room talking and laughing while Cal and I played chess or ran down to the shore to hunt for ghost crabs hiding in the dunes.

Our entrées are served—dried cod with tomato and spices—and a delicate pastry for dessert. The plates are removed, and Reggie stands and goes to the terrace doors, pulling them open. A warm breeze tipped with a hint of brine fills the air.

“That does it,” Cal cries, jumping up. “We’re taking a walk on the shore.”

He catches Zee’s hand and pulls her up. I chuckle and follow along, leaving my shoes on the smooth marble stones beside theirs and picking up a flashlight before following them down the long path to the water’s edge.

The estate is situated on a little cove protected by an outcropping of rocks, and as such, the beach is calmer than elsewhere, more like a lake. The moon is just rising over the crystal waters, and Cal rolls up his khakis. Zee is ankle-deep in the water kicking small sprays at him.

“Stop,” Cal says calmly, which only makes her do it more. “I’m going to dunk you if you don’t stop.”

Naturally, she does it again, and he makes a lunge. She screams and takes off running. I only laugh watching them, especially when Cal gives up after only a few steps.

“My stomach is too full to run,” he complains.

I switch on the light, and a handful of ghostly white crabs scurry away. Zee’s back at my side holding my arm and watching.

“I love chasing ghost crabs,” she whispers. “Look how big yours are!”

“That’s what she said,” Cal whispers from my other side.

I shine the light on one, and it freezes in place for a moment, watching us before scampering away. Zee has my sleeve in a death grip.

“I thought you said you liked chasing them?” I tease.

“Just as long as they run away from us.” She laughs, but it’s fast and nervous. It makes me laugh.

“You’re afraid of them.”

“I am not,” she says, jerking as my light hits another closer in our path.

I hear Cal sneaking up behind us, and suddenly Zee screams.

“Oh—OH!” It’s so loud, I nearly drop the flashlight. “Oh! Ow!”

She tugs my arm on the way down, and now she’s sitting on the sand, holding her foot, a pained look on her face.

“Are you okay?” I’m trying not to laugh.

“No…” She’s not crying, and I shine the light all around looking for whatever caused her injury.

“Did you trip over something?”

“Are you bleeding?” Cal is on his knees beside her.

“No,” she wails louder. “I’m such an idiot! I stepped on a crab, and when I jumped to get off of it, I twisted my ankle.”

We both lift her under the arms, helping her scoot back out of the surf.

“Do you think you can walk on it?” I ask.

She nods. “I’ve hurt this ankle before. I think it’ll be okay.”

Cal takes the light from me and shines it on her foot. “It’s swollen. You’ll have to spend the night.”

“What!” Zee cries, trying to rise. “Oh!” She instantly drops to sitting again.

“You’re staying the night. We have plenty of rooms and we can have a doctor here first thing in the morning to check you out.”

“I’m not spending the night. I don’t need a doctor!”

“No more arguments. Rowan?” My brother looks up at me. I’ve been frowning the entire time, unsure what to make of this.

“He’s probably right. Better safe than sorry, and we’ve got more than enough room.”

“But what about my s… sleepwear? Ava won’t know what to think.”

I feel pretty sure she wasn’t about to say sleepwear, but I let it pass. “I’m sure we can find something for you to sleep in, either something of Mother’s or—”

“Good heavens! Not a muumuu. I have T-shirts and things she can borrow.”

Zee sits for a moment blinking back and forth between us, until at last she sighs. “As long as I can call Ava and let her know what’s happening. She’s probably already asleep, but I don’t want her to worry.”

I consider offering to make that call, but I don’t. “Of course. We’ll carry you back to the house.”

We pull her up and start walking with her between us, one arm over each of our shoulders. She’s quite a bit shorter than us, especially with her shoes off, and with every hop, she jerks our necks down.

“This isn’t going to work,” I growl, stepping forward and sweeping her into my arms. She lets out a little noise, but I start walking, holding her firmly against my chest. “Trust me, this is far more comfortable.”

Cal seems a bit miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. He follows behind us on the path.

“Now I really feel like Cinderella,” Zee says softly, putting one hand on my shoulder.

She’s warm in my arms, and I study her in the moonlight. Is Reggie right? Could this girl truly solve all my problems? She’s energetic and fun, and she loves to laugh. She loves the ocean. All are traits I look for in a woman. She’s light and free-spirited, and I’m just noticing in this light… she’s beautiful.

Her cheeks are flushed from running on the beach, and her hair hangs in messy waves around her soft shoulders. Her lips are full and pink, and something about her reminds me of Ava. Ava. It all goes back to Ava.

Zee’s watching me with equal intensity, and I realize I should say something. “I hope your foot doesn’t hurt too much.”

“It feels okay, actually.” Her voice is quiet. “It really is an old injury. It’ll probably be fine in the morning.”

“Still, we should have it checked out.”

“I’m afraid you’re both overreacting.”

“It’s swollen, and you can’t walk. We’re not overreacting.”

Her bottom lip goes between her teeth, and I wonder if I should try kissing her. Just to see if something happens. I haven’t kissed Ava yet… My brow lines, and I almost growl. I can’t get her out of my head.

Zee misinterprets my mental distress. “I’m sorry. I’m too heavy. You don’t have to carry me.”

“No… it’s not that.” Racking my brains… “I was just thinking I need to find a nightgown for you to wear.”

“It’s too much trouble. I can go back to the Fontaine.”

“It’s no trouble at all. You’re staying here. That’s an order.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “By order of the king?”

I exhale a laugh at the gruffness in my tone. “By request.”

“In that case, how can I say no?”

9

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

Zelda

I DIDN’T HAVE to act too hard when Rowan swept me into his arms like some kind of swashbuckling hero. It was shocking and very sexy, and Reggie was right. A little damsel in distress helped get both of us on the right page, at least temporarily. In the moonlight, as he carried me, I was able to study him up close.

He’s such a focused, brooding fellow. His dark hair is a little too long, but it hangs in attractive waves around his temple and collar. His square jaw and lowered brow give him a sexy-menacing look that I’m sure sends panties flying. I know my heart beat a little faster when he looked at me. He’s strong and confident, and he’s got the bossy king persona down pat. But what nails it all, the icing on the cake, are his gorgeous blue eyes. They glow in all that dark deliciousness like the turquoise waters we just left behind.

Once we reach the house, he lowers me onto one of the cushioned loungers and kneels at the end, taking my injured foot in his large hands. I don’t miss Cal lurking in the background, arms crossed and frowning. It makes me want to tease him. I want to ask him if he’s jealous. What the hell? Get it together, Zelda!

“Does this hurt?” Rowan slides his hand up to the ball of my foot and gently pushes it toward me. I’m so glad I opted for that paraffin pedicure. My foot’s as soft as a baby’s bottom right now, and my nails are painted shimmering coral.

“It’s a little stiff,” I answer, giving him a smile.

“And this?” His hand slides over the top of my foot, slowly pulling it toward his chest in a point.

“That feels okay.”

Our eyes meet, and his lovely blue ones are warm. Suddenly my oversized rose-gold phone appears in my face. I jump back and glance up at Cal, who is giving me a perturbed look.

“You wanted to call your friend, remember?”

“My friend?” I’m confused. Oh, shit! “Ava! Of course.”

“Hmm,” he says and walks away.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Rowan stands. “Let me know when you’re ready to go up. I’ll find something you can wear to sleep.”

“Thank you.”

I decide to send a text rather than call, since I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. I’m partway through when Reggie peeks out onto the terrace. He looks quickly back in the room before hustling over to where I sit.

“Great work!” His eyes are shining. “That ankle injury is just what we needed.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I grumble, looking down at my stupid foot. “I was going to try drowning.”

“This is better. Use it to your advantage. I’ll check back later to see how it’s going.”

He pats my head and returns to the living room, where I hear him telling Rowan goodnight and to keep him posted on my status. I finish my text just as Rowan returns to my side.

“Ready to go up?” His low voice is warm, and I give him a smile.

“If I’d known you’d be carrying me all around the place tonight, I’d have eaten less dinner.”

I’m in his arms in one quick sweep. “You’re not heavy. I already told you.”

We’re back in that intimate embrace, his dark, square jaw and shimmering eyes mere inches from my face. I wonder if I should try to kiss him? Is that too fast? Reggie would probably suggest I get the party started, but I don’t entirely get Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate. He’s such a serious person. Instead, I put my hand behind his neck, allowing my fingers to lightly thread in his dark hair.

He stops to open a large, white door, and we step into a bedroom that almost makes my eyes bug out. It’s similar to the dining room with beige stone walls and exposed wood beams lining the ceiling. A huge bed is at the back wall beside another enormous, arched window. It’s covered in the softest-looking duvet, I know I’ll sleep like a baby in it. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and six small pictures are arranged in a pattern beside an enormous flat-screen television, which hangs above the beige painted-brick fireplace.

Rowan carries me to an overstuffed loveseat with an oversized ottoman in front of it. A tray holding a crystal decanter of water topped by a matching crystal glass, a gold-rimmed saucer with two adorable, pale-purple cookies, and two discreet blue-gel capsules on a linen napkin is on one half of the ottoman. Rowan lowers me onto the small couch and props my injured foot on the other half.

“You thought of everything,” I say as he sits beside me on the edge of the small sofa.

“I can’t take credit. The kitchen sent that up.”

His toned thigh is warm against my leg as I lean forward. “Ibuprofen, and… What are these little cookies?”

“Lavender macaroons. I highly recommend them.” He smiles and waits a moment. “Will you be okay? I’ll have one of the staff bring up a cane so you can get around.”

“I’m sure I can walk on it. You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”

“You couldn’t have walked up those stairs, but if you think you’re fine, I’ll say goodnight.”

My lip is back under my teeth. Should I go for a kiss? Reggie is going to kick my ass if I don’t at least get a kiss out of all this drama. I’m beginning to hate this con. Of all the jobs I’ve done, I never let emotions enter the picture. I feel like a bad Cinderella, playing games with the handsome prince’s heart. I don’t believe he’s as careless as Reggie makes him out to be, or as much of a threat to his country’s security.

He starts to rise, and with a heavy heart, I smile. “Doesn’t the gallant prince deserve a kiss?”

Looking down at me, I see the hesitation in his eyes. I hold my smile, even tilting my head to the side in a playful way. Something changes in him. That intimidating focus returns, and he sits beside me, closer this time.

My heart beats faster as he reaches for my cheek and pulls my mouth to his. Our lips touch, but he doesn’t push mine apart. He doesn’t plunge his tongue inside, taking no prisoners the way his brother did at the museum. Instead he kisses me gently, a few times in quick succession. It’s very tender and curious.

With a deep breath he leans back and looks into my eyes a moment. I don’t say anything. It was a very nice kiss. Nice.

“Goodnight, then,” he says and goes to the door, leaving the room without a look back.

I exhale a big sigh and lean forward to scoop up the pain relievers. My foot isn’t really injured. I know from experience, it’ll ache tonight and be fine tomorrow. I step gingerly on it and do a little skippy-walk to the bed where an enormous lavender silk gown is lying.

My mohair sweater and damp leggings are off, and I pull the giant thing over my head. It’s luxurious, soft as whipped cream, and clearly expensive. The bodice is a crisscross network of tucks and ruffles, and the silk belt is longer than my arms. I suppose it should be tied at the back, but I need to use it to lift the whole contraption up and tie it around my neck.

“I never sleep in a gown!” I whisper to myself as I limp over to the oval, full-length mirror in the corner. “I look like a little girl in her granny’s clothes!”

It makes me giggle, when I hear a soft rap on the door. It’s some maid bringing me a cane, I’m sure. What an old grandpa Rowan is, I think, shaking my head. A sexy old grandpa, I add.

I jump when I see Cal leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in loose pajama pants. His lined torso is easily visible through the thin button-up he’s wearing. The moment he sees me, he explodes with laughter.

“What the hell are you wearing? A tent?”

My face flares red. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something to sleep in.” He holds out a bottle of champagne. “And this to kill the pain.”

“Leave it on the table.” I turn and pull (and pull and pull) the sides of the nightgown up so I can skippy-trot back to the love seat.

“You’re going to break your neck as well as your ankle in that thing.” He follows me inside the room and closes the door. “If you don’t drown in silk first.”

“My ankle isn’t broken. Anyway, your brother brought me ibuprofen and this gown to sleep in.”

He shakes his head. “What a shocking lack of imagination.”

“I think he must have a pretty great imagination if he thought this would fit me.” I look down at all the silk pooling in my lap. “Or I really was incredibly heavy, and he was only being nice.” Nice. Like that kiss.

“My brother’s an idiot. Here,” Cal drops a small stack of clothes in my lap. “You’ll sleep in this. Go change.”

“And where do you suggest I do that?”

“Around the side of the fireplace. I won’t look.” My eyes narrow, and he holds up both hands. “I promise.”

“I haven’t decided if you’re honest.”

“Smart girl.”

Standing, I gather (and gather and gather) the sides of the gown so I can limp to the somewhat hidden corner beside the fireplace.

“You haven’t eaten your macaroons!”

“Help yourself,” I call, placing the navy tee and boxers he brought me on the edge of the fireplace.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says quietly.

I quickly pull the silk circus tent over my head. Cool air swirls around my bare breasts, tightening my nipples, but I’m only exposed long enough to toss the gown on the bed and whip his tee over my head. My senses flood with the deliciously spicy man-scent of Cal’s shirt, and I’m stepping into the shorts when I glance up and catch his hazel eyes in the oval mirror.

I straighten fast, pulling up the boxers and then jamming my hands on my hips. “You watched me change.”

He looks down, but the sides of his mouth curl in a grin. “It’s true. I did. I couldn’t help it. You have great tits.”

“You are not a gentleman.”

“True again. Sorry.” He peeks up, humor lurking in those damn irresistible eyes. “But you already knew that part, didn’t you? As smart as you are?”

My lips twist as I try not to smile. I will not let him get to me this time. It sounds like the cry of the defeated in my brain.

“You’re a prince. You’re supposed to be noble and all that shit.”

“Lies, all lies. I blame Walt Disney for that propaganda.” He leans forward to pour two glasses of champagne, and I limp to the sofa again, still doing my best to be angry.

“Princes are only noble because of our parents,” he continues, handing me a glass. I take a sip of the sparkling wine. “Otherwise, we’re just like every other male.”

“How’s that?”

“Looking to get laid.”

I nearly choke. “Well… go look in some other room.”

“Really?” He makes a sad-puppy face and my insides squeal. “I like this room. It’s one of my new favorite rooms.”

Shifting my position, I find the remote under my butt. I pull it out and turn on the television. “Then you have to watch TV.”

A French-dubbed Saved by the Bell pops up, and I can’t help thinking perfect. It’s not romantic in any way.

Cal makes a little growly noise that makes me grin and shifts his position to watch. Our sides are touching now, from waist to hip to knee in a blazing line I fight to ignore. I take another sip of wine.

After a few minutes of watching a fuzzyheaded Screech follow the gang around wearing enormous goggles, he finally asks, “Are all American high schools like this?”

“This is as true to American high schools as Disney is to princes.”

“Touché.”

We resume silently watching, when I notice two fingers wiggling beneath my palm. My eyes flicker down to where Cal is doing a not-so-sneaky job trying to hold my hand.

He sees me catch him and laughs. “Give me that remote.” He puts his glass down before snatching the black rectangle from my hand. Channels flicker past like a kaleidoscope, until he stops on one. Woody Harrelson is at a craps table with a group of partying ladies. “This is more like it.”

It takes a moment to realize what it is. “Indecent Proposal?” My nose wrinkles as I finish my glass. “Gag.”

“Don’t tell me you hate movies.”

“I love movies. I hate stupid ones that are totally unbelievable and rely on such obvious emotional pandering to attract viewers.”

“Big words, Miss Benedict. I think you really love it.”

“I do not!” I dive for the remote, but he laughs and leans back, putting us chest to chest, with me on top.

“Hmm…” He slides a hand under my tee and over the bare skin of my lower back. Chills skate across my arms, and my entire body heats. “I think you like this.”

Lowering my forehead to his chest, I hesitate only a moment before pushing myself out of his arms and sitting on the opposite side of the small sofa. I’m flustered and horny, and my brain feels swirly.

We watch Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson lose round after round on the roulette table until all their money is gone, and Moore starts to cry.

“Idiots,” I grumble. “Roulette is the worst game you can play in a casino. It has the highest odds in favor of the house, and they increase with every spin. Why didn’t they quit and go back to craps?”

Cal chuckles from the other end of the sofa, and I look down to see him watching me. “You know a lot about gambling.”

Whoops. I blink fast trying to find an excuse. “My dad liked to gamble.”

“Liked?” He pushes to a sitting position and slides closer to where I’m perched.

“He died when I was really young.”

Warm hands go around my waist, and Cal pulls me onto his lap, facing him in a straddle. Only, I won’t meet his eyes. I keep my head turned, my gaze fixed on the television.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing a fiery kiss to the base of my neck.

Clearing my throat, my breath comes faster. “It was a long time ago,” I manage to whisper.

His arms are at my waist, and his kisses move up the side of my neck until he’s at my ear. “Still, I’m sorry you lost your dad. I know how that feels.”

My whole body shivers, and I try to pull away. His arms only tighten around me. “Where are you going?”

“Cal…”

I feel his arousal hard against my thigh. My hands hold his biceps, and we’re nose to nose, sharing our breath. He looks deep into my eyes.

“Let’s say you and me do some good old-fashioned fucking, Zelda Benedict.”

I blink fast, away from his gaze. “I can’t,” I whisper, even though my insides are liquid, and my lips heavy with desire.

“Sure you can,” he whispers, leaning forward to cover my mouth with his.

Fingers thread into the sides of my hair, and his kiss is even more passionate than before. It’s hungry and demanding, and I’m losing the fight this time.

Cal doesn’t gently request, he invades, pillaging my senses. We lean back on the couch, and he’s above me, moving my mouth with his. I’m not stopping him. I’m desperate with desire. My hands are on his neck, and I’m kissing him back, hungrily keeping time with his movements.

He pulls away, and a little noise of disappointment comes from my throat. It makes him smile as he reaches down and lifts me off the couch.

“Don’t worry, sexy. I’m nowhere near finished with you tonight.”

“Cal…” My brain is fighting with me to get control, but he tosses me onto the bed, pulling his shirt off in one swift move.

My protests die when I see his bare body. He’s ripped and golden, beautiful, lean and muscular, and his light brown hair is tousled and tempting. My eyes trail down the lines of his stomach, getting tangled in the V at his hips, and all rational thought vanishes.

“Now you,” he says, climbing on his knees beside me on the bed.

He takes the hem of the shirt I’m wearing and lifts it over my head. My instinct is to cover my bare breasts, but he catches my arms.

“No way,” he grins, leaning us back on the bed. “Your tits are far too gorgeous for you to hide them.”

My face heats, and I start to laugh. “Stop it.”

He leans over me, then lowers gently until our bare bodies are stomach to stomach, skin against skin. We both exhale a groan.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, moving his lips over my shoulders.

I can only whimper, “So do you.” I am so screwed right now.

I can’t stop him as he slides lower, covering my left nipple with his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a firm suck that registers straight between my legs.

“Oh, god!” I gasp as he moves to the other side to repeat. His hand is on me, giving my nipple a pinch before moving up. I meet his eyes as he pushes his thumb between my teeth.

Closing my lips around that thick digit, I give it a suck, and his eyes darken. “Fuck me,” he groans, rising up fast to claim my mouth again.

I’m on fire. Energy hums up and down my thighs. I’m so close to coming, he only has to touch me once more, and I’ll explode.

“I knew it would be like this,” he breathes, cupping my lips with his. “You are so fucking passionate. I want to fuck you so hard.”

“Cal, oh, god!” Those seem to be the only three words my obliterated brain can conjure.

I’m so ready for him to be inside me, and he’s gone, sliding down my body, kissing my sternum, my navel, then jerking the boxers off my hips.

“Oh, shit, bare pussy,” he groans before wrapping his forearms around my hips and pulling me to his mouth.

One slow sweep of his tongue across my clit, and I cry out. I’m trembling and exploding, pleasure snaking up my thighs like a vine. I can’t remember the last time I had sex, but lord knows it wasn’t with anyone like MacCallam Lockwood Tate.

“Jesus,” he gasps.

“Please,” I beg.

He hops off the bed so fast, I just barely see the large erection tenting his PJ pants before they’re gone. A rip of foil, a quick roll of condom, and he’s back above me.

“You are amazing,” he says.

“If you don’t fuck me now—”

A hard thrust, and we both cry out.

“Oh, yes!” I moan.

“Jesus, god,” he grinds.

He’s hard and huge and perfect, stretching and massaging me in the most erotic way. His hips speed up, moving fast and punishing, demanding, taking, holding my face as he kisses me roughly. I can only grasp his shoulders and ride this out. I’m building to my second orgasm, and he’s taking me there by delicious force.

Our bodies are covered in sweat. A bead rolls from his beautiful, messy hair to the scruff of his square jaw, and I lean up to lick it away. Salt fills my mouth just before he turns and covers it with his.

He’s rocking, and I’m soaring. We’re holding onto each other when the sky explodes. My hips buck and clench, and he groans my name. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling the condom, coming deep between my things as my muscles hold him, pulling more and more.

“So fucking good.” He kisses my neck.

Our arms are around each other, and his forehead rests on my shoulder. We don’t move for several moments as our breathing starts to calm, as our bodies start to come down.

I’ve never been fucked like that in my life, but it’s more than that. I feel like I understand what the term making love means, which is insane. I’m not here to be Cal’s girlfriend, and lord knows this “playboy prince” has a reputation for getting around. Reggie somehow worked that into a previous conversation.

“Zelda,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my skin, cutting off my spiraling thoughts. “You are amazing.”

I exhale a laugh. “High praise, I’m sure.”

His head pops up and he grins, resting it on his hand. “It is, actually, but I mean it. You’re as good as you look. Better.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about it.”

That makes him laugh, and he leans down to give me a firm kiss. It lingers a bit longer, warm and delicious until he breaks away.

“I swear that mouth drives me crazy.”

“You’re not too shabby with yours.” Reaching out, I touch his bottom lip with my thumb. He drops his chin and bites me, sending a little thrill through my midsection.

“I’d barely even started.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Just wait until Round 2.”

A shiver passes through me, and his eyes darken. “You like that, don’t you, little slut. I’ve been trying to get in your pants since that night at the ball.”

He’s teasing, and I pretend to pout. “And now that you have, you’ve lost all respect for me.”

“Never! I have very high respect for women who are dynamite in the sack. I plan to take advantage of you several more times tonight.”

I can’t help laughing. “Several?”

“How is your ankle?”

“I don’t even feel it.”

“That’s good, although I suppose your riding me tonight is out of the question.”

Pressing my lips together, I do a little frown. “I probably shouldn’t sit on it, which means I probably shouldn’t sit on you.”

“Shit.” He props his head on his hand and traces a finger along my lips. “I have this fantasy of you on top of me, straight up, bucking those hips, this gorgeous hair falling all around your tits.” He leans down and kisses me again. “I’m getting a semi just thinking about it.”

“You’re insatiable. Give me a chance to breathe.”

“Come here,” he rolls onto his back and pulls my cheek to his chest. I listen to his heartbeat as he threads his fingers into the back of my hair. “I wanted to punch Rowan in the nuts tonight when he swept you up in his arms like some kind of fucking superhero.”

“Hmm,” I say, feeling my eyes growing heavy. “That was a great moment. You should try it sometime.”

“I fucking would’ve if he hadn’t. Show off. I saw you first.”

“Mm-hm.” I say through an exhale, my cheek blissfully pressed to his toned chest.

On the television, I watch as Demi Moore takes a dollar coin from Robert Redford that has tails on both sides and gets out of his limo.

“Dumb movie,” I grumble, and I feel Cal chuckle.

“It’s my favorite part.”

“I hope you’re teasing. She should’ve stayed with him. Who lets their wife have sex with another man for money?”

Cal’s fingers slide across the back of my neck. “They did a pretty good job of making them out to be desperate. I don’t know from personal experience, but I don’t think desperate people always make smart decisions.”

A lump forms in my throat as I think about his words. I think about my situation, and the decisions I’ve made. I know what it’s like to be desperate. Closing my eyes, I try to push away the guilt of what I’ve done, but I’m not sure I can.

His fingers still. “Are you falling asleep?”

I barely nod. I don’t want to think about personal experience and wrong choices. I want to sleep in Cal’s arms and pretend nothing else is waiting outside this room.

“I think I’m feeling the wine,” I say softly.

“And all the strenuous activity.”

“Mm… that too.”

He gently moves me to the side, curling his body around my back. I slide my palm down his forearm and lace our fingers together as I allow his warmth to comfort me. It only takes a few moments for me to slip into unconsciousness.

My eyes pop open as the sun is just lighting the horizon. The sound of heavy breathing is at my back, and my heart sinks. Oh god, I’ve ruined everything!

Without even looking back, I slowly move to the edge of the bed and slip my legs out, rising as gently as I can without shaking the mattress. It’s one of those foam mattresses, and Cal doesn’t even stir.

He’s lying on his back sleeping soundly, and I take a moment to admire his beautiful body. The white sheet is draped across his waist, and in the dim light, the lines of his muscles are deep and defined. Everything in me wants to crawl back in bed, wake him, and take care of that morning wood, but I know that would be a huge mistake. Even bigger than the one I made last night.

As quietly as possible, I step into my leggings and pull them on. My ankle is stiff, but as I predicted, it’s much better this morning. I think about Cal’s fantasy and my body warms. I could ride him today… Ugh! Fuck my life.

Shaking that away, I pick up my sweater, but instead of wearing it, I pull on Cal’s navy tee. It smells like him, and I bury my nose in the collar as I watch him sleeping. My chest aches, but I know what I have to do. Picking up my purse, I creep to the door, and with one last look, I disappear.

10

REGROUPING

Rowan

THE NOISE of footsteps overhead causes me to minimize the browser on my laptop. Cal appears at the living room entrance, and for a moment he only stands there, looking around the room.

“Coffee?” I say, nodding toward the tray on the low table holding a carafe and two additional cups.

His shoulders drop, and he stalks forward to the coffee service. He appears well rested, but he’s scowling and clearly pissed. I watch as he yanks up the carafe and roughly pours a small cup of espresso.

My brow lines. “What’s the matter with you?”

He only takes a long drink, shakes his head, and walks to the French doors, looking out at the water.

“Shall I call Doctor Hebert now or wait a little longer.”

“Why would you call him?” He’s still standing at the window looking out.

“Our house guest?” I’m starting to get annoyed. “I didn’t want to call him too early in case she slept in, but it’s after ten. I’m sure he has other patients.”

“Don’t bother.” He turns and walks back to the table, depositing his cup before starting for the exit.

“What do you mean? We said we’d have the doctor look at her ankle—”

“She’s gone. She isn’t here. She must have left some time in the night.”

For a moment I sit looking at the empty fireplace, trying to understand. “Why would she do that? Did something happen to make her feel uncomfortable?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He’s about to exit, but I stop him.

“I considered inviting them to the casino tonight, if they’re both well enough. Will you be around?”

He turns halfway back and for several moments seems to think about what I just said. “You’re inviting Zee to the casino?”

“And Ava. I thought you might join us to sort of… round out the numbers.” It suddenly dawns on me what might be wrong. “Unless you have other plans. I realize I’ve been monopolizing your personal time lately.”

He continues in that spot, thinking. I’m starting to wonder if I should call the doctor in to check him out, when he seems to reach a decision.

“Yes,” he says solidly. “I’ll go with you tonight. That’s a good way to get some answers.”

Whatever the hell that means.

“I’ll give them a call.”

Zelda

I’m deep under the covers when Ava bursts through the door and jumps on my bed. “What time did you get home? I just saw your text, and I wasn’t expecting you for hours!”

“Mm,” I groan. “Go away, Ava.”

She only jumps harder on the bed. “Wake up and tell me what happened! You twisted your ankle? Is it the same ankle you sprained trying to play basketball?”

I push the covers up and burrow down further into the plush duvet. The last thing I want is to rehash last night or confess my Super Colossal Screw-up. Lucky for me the doorbell rings, and Ava takes off to see who it is. I hear her voice in the other room.

“Oh my goodness!” she whisper-cries. “They’re absolutely gorgeous! Zee, you have to see this!”

My curiosity is piqued, but not enough to make me emerge from my protective cocoon. The noise of voices is followed by the sound of the door closing. Everything is quiet for a few moments, then Ava returns.

“You’re not going to believe the bouquet Rowan sent!”

“Rowan?” I crawl a little closer to the light, still unsure if I want to emerge.

“It says, ‘Sorry you’ve been ill. I hope you’ll be well enough to join us tonight. Yours truly, Rowan W.T.’ and it’s the most enormous bouquet of roses I’ve ever seen! It fills the entire front table!”

“Rowan sent you flowers?” My voice is muffled coming from under the blankets. He didn’t send me flowers. Then again, he probably thinks I’m upstairs in his guest room right now.

“You should come out and look at them. Or just come out and stop being a weirdo.”

I can’t hold it in anymore. I press my face into the pillow and yell it out: “Fuuuuuuck!” I feel the little tears in the corners of my eyes. “Oh, fuck.” I whisper, pushing them away.

The bed depresses, and I know she’s sitting beside my back now. “That’s a word I haven’t heard out of your mouth in ages. What happened last night?”

I can’t breathe. I’m not sure if I should even tell her, but I know I have to. What I’ve done impacts her future as much as it does mine. Oh, god, I’ve never done something so careless in all the time I’ve been taking care of us. I’ve always been the dependable one, the one who finds the jobs and then sees them through to the end. I’ve never been the one who screws them up. It’s not who I am.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to climb out from the covers. It’s time to stop acting like a child and face the consequences. I sit up and push the blankets off my head, down to my lap. Ava’s eyes are round, but she starts to laugh.

“Your hair is crazy!” Reaching forward she smooths it around my head. I almost can’t take it.

“I’ve messed up, Ava-bug.” I finally say, looking at my lap. “I might have cost us the whole job, our future, everything.”

Her round eyes narrow with a frown. “What did you do?”

I push my face against my bent knees and say it fast. “I slept with Cal. Last night. I slept with him… as in we had sex.”

It’s so quiet in the room, the noise of the second hand seems as loud as a hammer. Ava’s lips are parted, and she only stares at me.

“Time out,” she says softly. “Did you just tell me you slept with Cal last night? Rowan’s brother Cal?”

“Do you know any other princes named Cal?”

I confess, despite my external misery over what I’ve done, that damn little fish is still flipping around inside my stomach when I think about last night. FML.

“I don’t know any other princes period.” She rises off the bed and walks around the room.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do the deal with Rowan now. How can I go after him when I’ve slept with his brother? I’ve ruined everything. We might as well start packing.”

She pauses, and holds her fingers to her lips. Judging by her profile, she doesn’t appear angry or even upset. I’m not sure what to make of how she’s reacting—or underreacting.

“I have to tell Reggie what I did,” I continue. “He’s going to flip his lid.”

“Is your ankle okay?” She returns to the bed and sits beside me, digging in the blankets and sheets for my foot.

I reach down and stop her search. “Ava! Did you hear what I said? I’ve killed the deal. Rowan isn’t going to look twice at me when he finds out what I did!”

“It’s true.” She’s smiling now, and I’m starting to wonder if her illness last night might have been mental. “Is it possible he won’t find out?”

“I don’t know. Cal will probably say something.” I push the covers back and stand. “Anyway, there’s no point in staying here now.”

My chest aches saying the words. The only reason I messed up like this is because I really like Cal. MacCallam Lockwood Tate sneaked his way into my heart, and now the thought of leaving here, of never seeing him again… of never getting that ride…

“It’s going to take a while to get over,” I say quietly.

“Why do we have to leave?” Ava jumps forward, catching my hands. “Why can’t we just wait and see what happens?”

“What are you talking about, ‘Wait and see’? I can tell you what’s going to happen. We’re going to be exposed as frauds, and that will be the end of it. No exposed prince taking advantage of his country, no vindication for Reggie. We’re all out, and you and I have nothing.”

Her lips press into a tight frown. “We still have the ten-K, yes?”

Nodding, I walk over to my bag to fish out the black Amex card. It’s sitting in my wallet like an old fashioned insurance policy. “Yes,” I say, sadly. “We still have this. I guess we can keep it.”

The phone rings, but I’m not in the mood to talk. I want to crawl back under the blankets. I’d been hiding from the world under there, but also, secretly, I’d been reliving one of the best nights of my life, although I’d never admit it out loud.

Under the blankets, with my eyes shut tight, I revisit every kiss, every touch, every shiver and moan…

I can still feel his hard body against mine. I can still feel his warm skin as I trace my fingers along the lines of his chest, down his stomach, along the V of his obliques. I can still feel his rough kisses, and if I close my eyes, I can still see him sleeping just before I left him.

No one has ever made me laugh as much as he does. No one has ever helped me forget all the shit and simply let go. I’ll take him with me from this job, and no matter how much we’ve lost, I’ll always have him in my memories.

“It’s for you.” Ava holds the cordless room phone. “Reggie.”

I make a face and take it from her, my stomach in knots. “Good morning, Reggie.”

“Hello, there.” His voice isn’t as angry as I expected. “I have to say, you are the most unpredictable girl.”

“How so?” Maybe I’ll play dumb just a little bit longer. Ava wants to see what might happen.

“While I thought you’d spend the night, make a play for the king, have breakfast and possibly spend the day with him, you sneak off in the night, leaving him intrigued and wanting more.”

My cheeks flash with shock. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play games with me. We’re on the same side.” His voice is somewhere between agitated and amused. “I just got off the phone with his royal highness, and he plans to invite you to the Royal Casino this evening.”

“He’s not angry? He still wants to see me?”

“Apparently no, and yes, respectively.” Reggie pauses for a breath. “Clearly you know what you’re doing when it comes to Rowan. No one else ever does.”

“You’re wrong…” I replay all my interactions with the broody crown prince last night. “I don’t think he’s interested in me at all.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? He’s calling to ask you out. He’s pursuing you.”

I walk around the room thinking. He brought me water and ibuprofen. He brought me a gown that would fit an elephant. He gave me the lamest kiss goodnight, and I didn’t hear from him again. Could he have had a change of heart while he slept?

“We kissed last night…” I say.

“You what?” Reggie is ecstatic, but a sharp banging sound across the room snaps my attention.

Ava has knocked over a vase. Thankfully it didn’t break, and she hastily picks it up along with the fake flowers it held. I notice her frustrated expression and cover the receiver with my hand.

“It’s okay, Ava-bug!” I whisper, giving her a reassuring smile. “No damage done.”

She doesn’t smile back. She only blinks quickly and leaves the room. Not sure what to make of that behavior.

“Build on that!” Reggie is saying in my ear. “Relationships take time. Get to know one another, find a reason to be alone tonight and talk. Once his emotions are involved, you’ll have him.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t like this, Reggie. I think you’re wrong about Rowan. He’s serious and thoughtful. I don’t think he’s a danger to your country. I think you’re just pissed he doesn’t like you.”

“Are you near your computer?”

Glancing around the room, I see my Mac sitting closed on the desk. “Yes…”

I walk over to it and lift the cover. It springs to life, and I wait for instructions.

“I’m sending you an email right now. I want you to take a look at the photo attached and the article.”

“Give me a second.” I open my browser and go through all the steps to activate the in-room wifi. A few more clicks and I’m in the email account Reggie set up for me for this job. “What am I looking for? Never mind, here it is.”

“Tell me what you see, Zelda.”

Opening my one new message, I scan the text in the body

The sovereign acts as a focus for national identity, unity and pride; gives a sense of stability and continuity; officially recognizes success and excellence; and supports the ideal of voluntary service.

“That’s a mouthful,” I say before double-clicking the first attachment.

My screen fills with a grainy photograph. It’s a dark room, and I have to squint to make out the profile of Rowan, leaning against a wall, his head tilted back. A blonde woman is kneeling in front of him, and it looks suspiciously like he’s getting a blowjob. I close the image at once.

“Was that what I think it was?” I snap.

“I can tell you what it wasn’t.” His tone irritates me.

“Doesn’t change my feelings,” I say. “The paparazzi are everywhere, and they have telephoto lenses. Rowan’s a grown man. As long as that was consensual—”

“Look at the next one.”

“Listen, Reg, I really don’t want to see Rowan’s peen again.”

“That’s part of your problem right there.”

Behind me I hear the fast shush of feet on carpet, and I know Ava’s back.

“What will I see if I open it?” Squinting my eyes, I click on the image. On my screen is a shot of him in a red nylon suit. His brow is lowered, and he’s standing next to one of those weird-looking racecars. He actually looks hot.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“Formula One racing is his other pastime.”

“That’s right… He told me he loves racing.” I move back when Ava sticks her head in front of my computer. Pushing off the floor, I walk to the bedside table. “So he likes hummers and fast cars. Sounds like a typical guy to me.”

“Precisely.”

“How is that bad for the country? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“He’s destabilizing our economy. He’s shutting down our oil leases and meeting with experimental startup companies that would bankrupt the nation. He kicked out the existing cabinet, men with experience. I was in the middle of closing a deal with our neighboring country that would establish free trade routes—”

“That’s what you’re pissed about! You want control.”

“I want what’s best for Monagasco.”

We’re quiet again. I don’t know how to argue with him.

“I didn’t hire you to figure out our problems. I hired you to do a job.” Reggie’s accent gets thicker when he’s ticked. “Are you going to do it or not?”

As I think about his question, my eyes travel around the luxurious room. Funny how fast a person can get used to the finer things. All this started with a thousand-dollar plaque down my dress, and my overwhelming desire to secure our future. With a long exhale, I relent.

“I’ll do it, but I’m not lying when I say he’s not into me. Attraction is something money can’t buy.”

“You can’t be that naive. Rowan is attracted to your inheritance.”

“Fake inheritance.”

“I’ll put another ten in your online account. Buy something nice to wear tonight. The casino has a strict dress code.”

We disconnect, and I glance back to where Ava is sitting at my laptop. The first photo is open again, and her lips are pressed into a thin line.

“Don’t look at that, Ave. It’s not fair.”

With a huff, she slaps the laptop closed before storming out of my room. Now I’m suspicious. I’m about to go after her when the phone rings again, stopping me.

“Grand central around here,” I mutter, lifting the black receiver.

A deep male voice is on the line. “Zelda? It’s Rowan.”

My heart jumps, and I snap back into character. “Rowan! Hello…” Scrubbing my fingers over my eyes, I try not to remember his expression in that first photo.

“Why did you leave in the night like that? Are you okay?”

“I… umm, Oh, you know. Strange room and all. I couldn’t sleep. Who knew my Uber app worked in Europe?”

“How is your ankle today?” His tone is stern, and I can’t tell if he’s concerned or angry.

“It’s totally better. I told you it would be. I’m sorry, I should have left a note—”

“And Ava? Is she feeling better today as well?”

“Yep, all good. She loves the roses you sent.”

“I’m glad.” He pauses only briefly. “The royal casino is something of a tourist attraction. I thought you might like to see it. Tonight. With me.”

My eyes narrow, and I pause. Is he asking me out? Maybe I’ll have to revise my statement to Reggie. Maybe our little clutch last night on the way up from the beach carried more weight than I thought. Then again there was that kiss… Not great.

“Ava is also welcome to join us,” he continues, and I know I’m right. It’s another group activity. “Cal will be with us.”

Panic fills my stomach. “Cal?” Shit, and I already said my ankle was better. No getting out of this one. “That sounds great. We’d love to go.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at eight. You don’t have to gamble, although I usually play a few hands of Baccarat.”

“Sure.” I feel slightly nauseated as we disconnect.

I’m not sure what will happen when I see Cal again, and on top of everything, we’ll be at a casino. Is it okay if I know how to gamble? Should I pretend to be clueless?

Picking up my phone, I shoot Reggie a text. Casino date tonight is a go. Can I know how to gamble?

Carrying my phone with me, I decide to check on my little sister. I have to pause in shock at the enormous bouquet of red roses now filling the entryway. The card is gone, so I have no idea what he wrote to her.

“Damn,” I hiss under my breath, shaking my head as I head to her door. I shouldn’t be miffed. So he bought her a florist’s worth of flowers. He did offer to call me a whole doctor for an ankle sprain.

I’m just about to knock when Reggie’s reply vibrates my phone. Your call, although probably not wise to be a card shark. Don’t be shy around CPR. Make your move. I’m counting on you.

“My move,” I mutter. “My move is falling for the wrong prince.”

Ava doesn’t answer when I knock, so I turn the doorknob slowly and peek in. She’s dressed in one of the designer outfits Reggie bought us—tight white capris that show off her long, slim legs, with a flared black sleeveless jacket-top. She’s brushing her hair a little too hard. Her pilfered aquarium bracelet shakes and sparkles on her wrist.

“Going out?” I walk over to her and put my hand on the brush.

Her rapid movements still, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “I need something to wear tonight. The casino is very formal.”

“I’m sure Reggie’s got it covered.”

“Then I want to shop.” She begins brushing again, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

“Everything okay?” I’ve never seen her this way. “You know, it’s possible I haven’t blown this job. Reggie thinks I still have a chance.” As much as I hate it.

“You kissed Rowan, and you slept with Cal?” Her question is clipped, and embarrassment tightens my stomach. Of course, she’s mad.

“You’re right,” I say, looking down. “I have to get my head in the game. I have to stop screwing around and focus on the prize.”

She puts the brush down and faces me. She’s a little softer, but I can tell she’s still not happy. “I think you’re doing the best you can. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She picks up her clutch. “I’ll be back after lunch.”

“Really? We’re not going to do anything together?”

“We’ll catch up tomorrow. Or tonight at the casino. Mind if I take the card?”

“Of course not. The money is for both of us.”

She’s gone before I can say another word, and I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is still a rat’s nest from hiding under the covers, so I take the brush and pull it through until it’s smooth. Then I walk slowly to the tower of roses, pulling one from the throng and pressing it to my nose. Sweet perfume.

I’m back on with Rowan, but that only solves one problem. How do I pretend to care about the crown prince, when all my thoughts keep flying to his brother? How can I pretend like nothing happened last night?

I drop onto the soft green sofa and look out at the turquoise blue waters, fighting the memories of last night trying to filter into my brain. I’ve never failed at a job before, and I’m not going to start now. I won’t choke in the biggest game of my career. I’ll regroup and see this one through to the end.

11

PREFERENCE

Rowan

CAL IS UNUSUALLY quiet on the limo ride into town. We’re both wearing requisite black tuxedos, and while his hair is combed back and smooth, mine is all around my ears.

“I should have had a hair cut today,” I grumble, tilting the scotch back and forth in my crystal tumbler.

He continues looking out the window, not answering. His elbow is bent, and he’s pinching his top lip. It’s one of his tells.

“You’re going to have to loosen up if you expect to win tonight. I can tell you’ve been dealt a tough hand.”

That brings him around. “What?”

“Why are you so distracted?”

His brow quirks, and he shifts in the seat, sliding his palms down his thighs. “Rode over to Longines this morning. That gelding has to be put down.”

“Pierre?”

“He never fully recovered from his injury last fall. The vet says it’s getting worse. He’s in pain.”

Leaning forward, I touch his knee. “Sorry, brother.”

Cal shrugs. “He’s twenty-five. It’s time.”

“Still, he was your first horse.”

He leans back and polishes off his scotch. “I’ll try not to let it ruin the evening.”

We’re at the hotel, and I give him a tight smile before sliding forward. Hajib holds the door, and the moment I look out, I call back to Cal.

“We have to hustle.” A cadre of photographers is already swarming in our direction.

With a push off the plush leather, I’m across the space between the car and the front doors before they’re able to catch me. Cal is right on my heels. The doormen keep them outside while I step to the house phone and call our dates.

“They’re on the way down,” I say. Standing beside my brother, I look through the glass at the waiting paparazzi. I can almost see their fangs gleaming. “We should have planned an escape route. I didn’t expect them to be so interested.”

“The word’s out. You’re looking for a bride, and you’ve been spotted with the same woman three times now.”

“Zee?” I think about last night, me carrying her up from the shore in my arms, rotating her bare foot. “We need to flush out the rat at Occitan.”

“I couldn’t agree… more.” His unexpected stutter causes me to look up. His expression is stunned, and I turn to see the ladies exiting the lift.

My own stomach tightens at the sight. Ava is wearing a two-piece long black dress with a V-neck, midriff top. I can’t decide whether to focus on the soft swell of her breasts or her lined torso. Both are causing a sudden rush of blood from my head to my cock.

I have to tear my eyes away from her sexy body to greet Zelda, who’s leading the two. She’s equally stunning in a white dress that stops mid-thigh. Her toned legs are lined, and the bronze heels she wears are amazing. Her dress is cut out at the back, and almost appears two-piece as well, except for the small bit of fabric covering her stomach.

“Wow,” I meet Zelda in the middle and take her hand. “You both look very beautiful.”

She’s doing that thing again, where her eyes are fixed solely on me as if she’s trying not to see anyone or anything else. I don’t know what it means other than I can’t look at Ava.

“Thank you,” she takes my hand. “Always the perfect date.”

Ava makes a soft noise, and I take advantage of it to look in her direction. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

She blinks up at me, and once again, I’m hit with a jolt of emerald green. Her soft hair is pulled away from her face in a smooth sweep down her back, and her lips are a pale shade of pink. I must have her tonight. The thought stampedes in my brain.

“I can’t wait to see the casino,” Zelda says, taking my arm and breaking the moment. “I looked it up online, and it’s gorgeous! So historic.”

“It was built more than a century ago.” We walk slowly to the door, and I do my best to fight my irritation when Cal takes Ava’s arm. “It was one of our great-great grandmothers’ ideas.”

“The family was in financial ruin, and she saved us all by starting this massive enterprise,” Cal says.

Zelda tenses at his voice, and I glance down to catch a hint of pink in her cheeks. “It’s enormous.”

“That’s what she said,” my brother mutters behind us, and Ava laughs.

Zee doesn’t respond, but her cheeks redden more. “You said you like to play Baccarat? Is that like poker?”

“More like blackjack.” I pause at the hotel entrance. “I’m afraid we’ve attracted the paparazzi. We’ll have to dash to the car, but I’ll shield you from them.”

“It’s like running the gauntlet.” Zee mutters looking out at them.

As soon as we leave the building, the shouting begins. They call my name, they call Cal’s. They ask who the women are. One bastard makes a shitty crack about me getting a hummer.

Hajib is efficient as always getting the doors open and closed and leaving the premises without killing anyone. We’re all quiet inside, recovering. I’m infuriated by the blowjob remark in front of our guests, particularly Ava.

“Is that something you deal with a lot?” Zelda’s eyes meet mine, and a touch of compassion is in them. “It must be miserable.”

“It goes with the territory.”

“Escorting beautiful women makes it worse,” Cal adds quietly.

“So it’s Ava’s fault?” Zee laughs.

For a moment I study her. She’s serious, and I confess, her humility softens me. “Don’t be so quick to let yourself off the hook.”

She shakes her head, and we’ve arrived at the casino. We’re as close to the entrance as possible, as several of the photographers have followed us. We’ll be safe enough once we’re inside.

Another brisk run, and we’re pushing through the entrance of the palatial casino, the screaming paparazzi blocked outside. Again, we pause to catch our breath and straighten our clothes.

Zelda runs her hands over her pale blonde hair and lifts her chin to look all around the grand salon. “It’s enormous!” She walks across the Persian carpets to gaze at a larger than life oil painting in an ornate golden frame.

The three of us follow a few steps behind her, and while I’ve been in the building more times than I can remember, it’s like seeing the thick, red-velvet drapes and sparkling gold leaf Corinthian accents anew.

“I love this one,” Ava says.

She’s looking up at a huge portrait of a woman in a field of heather that’s being swept forward by the wind.

“Most of these have been here for centuries,” I say. “I’m not sure who painted that one.”

She looks up at me. “It’s very fine. All of it is so… noble.”

“Have you been to many casinos?” I know I should be with Zee, but I notice Cal is with her. They appear to be having a lively conversation, and I’ll steal my moments with this beautiful lady when I can.

“I-I’ve been inside a few,” she says hesitantly, “but only out of curiosity. I’m not allowed to gamble.”

“Not allowed?” I smile, and she blinks away from my eyes.

“I don’t have a poker face.”

“Ah,” I reach for her hand, pulling it into the crook of my arm. “That is a liability.”

“So I’ve been told.”

We start to walk, and in this position, her luscious body is very close to mine. I feel her heat, and I have to fight my primitive desire to take her. Everything in me aches for her.

“Tell me about growing up in Florida,” I say in an effort to redirect. “Were you close to the coast?”

“Yes! We practically lived in the ocean, sometimes we even slept on the beach at night.” Her enthusiasm is adorable.

“We?” My brow lines, and she looks startled.

“Oh…” She looks away, over her shoulder, before turning back. “My older sister… and me.”

“You have a sister? What is her name?” She laughs in a way that sounds a little strangled. I stop and look at her. “Are you feeling ill?”

“Would it be possible to get a drink?” Her hand tightens on my arm, and I cover it with my hand.

“What would you like? Champagne? A cocktail?”

“Whiskey sour?”

“Whiskey?” I grin, and she looks embarrassed. “No, I’m impressed by the contradiction.”

“What do you mean?” She flashes me a look, and I notice something I missed before. Ava Wilder is secretly feisty. I’m intrigued.

Stepping to her, I touch her chin with my thumb. “I’d like to know this side of you better.”

Her full lips part, and my dick stirs. I have to grab the reins on my lust. We’re in a public place for god’s sake.

“Come,” I take her hand and escort her to the elaborate bar. Like everything else, it’s adorned in oil paintings, sculptures, and heavy golden accents.

The bartender is with me at once, and I place our orders. Ava stands beside me looking at the frescos on the ceiling. I take the opportunity to look at her beautiful throat and shoulders.

“Your grace.” The bartender places a tall, slender whiskey sour, accented with a cherry and an orange wedge in front of me.

She nods to my plain tumbler of scotch. “It’s so fancy compared to yours.”

I lift it and give her a toast. “To garnish.”

“You don’t have to pay?” she whispers. Her lips lightly touch my ear, and fuck me.

“We have a tab,” I say as I lead her through the salons, through the French doors, and out to the patio. She lifts the cherry out of her glass and slips it between her full lips. Everything this woman does is pure sex.

“If you’re hungry, there are several restaurants…”

“I’m not.” She smiles, turning to scan the garden. “I hope we can see the fountain. Do you think the photographers will be there screaming at us again?”

“I’ll be sure you see the fountain in peace.”

She glances over my shoulder at my omnipresent bodyguards. “I noticed we have company. Can’t they do anything about the paparazzi?”

“Engaging with them only makes it worse, I’m afraid. We do our best to ignore them.”

“In America they hide behind ‘freedom of the press’ laws.” Her voice is angry. “Freedom of the press means we’re prisoners of print.”

“You’re very smart.” She leans against the stone archway of the balcony, and I slide the backs of my fingers down the soft skin of her arm. A gratifying sprinkle of tiny bumps appears in its wake.

“So I’ve been told.”

“And you have no poker face.” I’m reading her hand. Her soft breasts are flushed, and her breathing fast. Leaning closer, I touch her chin. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were at the aquarium.”

“I know.” Her eyes are focused on my shirtfront.

“Look at me,” I order.

She obeys, and when I see the heat in her eyes, it’s all the encouragement I need. I cover her mouth with mine, sliding my hands over her exposed back. With a soft moan, her gorgeous body melts into mine. Her shoulders rise, and the tips of her fingers touch my face. I push her lips apart, tasting her sweet mouth. She’s mint laced with cherries, and every touch, every stroke of our tongues curling together fuels the fire in me.

“I want to make love to you.” My voice is rough and hungry.

“Rowan,” she gasps. “We need to stop. We should talk more.”

I’m chasing her mouth, capturing her full lips, threading my fingers in her silky hair. I’m a junkie, and I’m finally getting the hit I’ve been craving for days. “We can talk later,” I say, claiming her mouth again.

She moans a response, and I know she can feel my arousal. I don’t care. I feel hers in every kiss, every touch. I would take her right here against this stone archway if it weren’t for those fucking bodyguards.

“Let’s go across the street.” I glance up at the guards on duty, pretending not to watch.

“What’s across the street?” she pants, one hand on my neck, the other holding my arm tightly, as if for balance.

My palm is flat against her lower back, holding her securely to me. “The Paris Hotel.”

“Mm,” she struggles, and I allow her to move.

She steps to the side, smoothing her hands over her dress, touching her lips lightly. I watch in frustration. I don’t want her pulling away from me.

“I only meant it would give us more privacy,” I say. “The guards don’t have to be with us there.”

Her eyes widen and she looks around. At once her cheeks flame red, and she covers them with her hands. “Oh my god, I forgot about the guards.”

Stepping forward, I take her in my arms. “Please don’t pull away. They’re an unfortunate byproduct of who I am, but I want to know you better.”

“What about Cal… and Zee? We should find them. We can’t just leave without a word.”

I hate that she has a point. “Cal will look out for your friend. She seems to enjoy his company better anyway.”

Emerald eyes flash to mine, so beautiful. “She thought she was coming here with you tonight. I’m ruining your plans.”

“The only plan I had for tonight was you.”

Pushing away, she shakes her dark head as she walks across the patio to the heavy stone rail. Her black skirt swirls around her legs, and the lines in her torso deepen as she walks. She’s so fucking gorgeous.

“I thought Cal was the playboy prince.” It’s a sharp accusation, and I’m taken aback.

“What does that mean?”

“It seems you get hummers from anonymous women, last night you kissed my sister, and tonight you want me to go to bed with you?”

I’m at a loss. My brain swiftly catalogs her complaints, searching for a rebuttal. “Your sister?”

“I… I mean… Yes!” She’s momentarily flustered. “Zee is like a sister to me. Sometimes we even call each other sister. Is that all you got from what I said?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t following you for a moment.” I look away. The top of the enormous fountain is just visible over the hedges. “I don’t know what to say. Yes, I kissed Zelda last night. She had hurt her ankle, and I carried her to the house. It was a thank you kiss, nothing more.”

Her back is to me, and I want to break down these barriers. I want to have her. Perhaps that does make me a playboy prince, but I don’t think in those terms.

I touch her soft shoulder. “The first night I saw you, you quoted Robert Frost. Passionate preference; love at first sight. Why did you say those lines?”

Shanking her head, she does a little shrug. “It came into my mind. I don’t know why.” She walks away, crossing the space to the stone arch.

I’m right behind her, making her face me. “I’m not playing games, Ava. I want to know your mind. We can go back inside and find your friend, but after this night, I want to know you in every way. I don’t want anyone else.”

Her eyes move to my lips, and I know she isn’t offended by my words. I know she wants the same thing as me. I can feel it in her kiss.

“I should say no,” she answers. “I don’t want to be just a nameless face to you, another random woman who satisfies your needs and is later forgotten.”

“You’re so much more than that. Let me show you.”

She only hesitates a moment before surrendering to my request.

12

FOCUS

Zelda

CAL STEPS between me and looking for Ava. “You walked out on me last night.” His full lips narrow into that sexy grin. “I want to be angry, but… Damn. Look at you.”

Not going there with him. “I like your coat,” I deflect, flicking a finger over his black sleeve. “Interesting detail. Is that paisley?”

“Who gives a fuck?” He lifts his arm, and in the bright light, the faintest design appears in the fabric. “It’s Ming dynasty, I think. Pretty basic for Balmain.”

“Is he the royal designer?”

“If he is, he wouldn’t work with me. I picked this out at a show last spring.”

“Wearing a year-old tux? Shocking! No wonder he skipped you,” I tease, walking slowly across the polished marble floor. An enormous black star is in the center. “You know, they have a replica of this place in Vegas? They have replicas of all the great casinos there.”

“Have you been?”

I shake my head. “Now I never will. It would be too depressing.”

“No arrogant princes following you around?”

Glancing to the side, I smile. “You’re not so arrogant.”

“I must be. I’m convinced you should choose me over him.”

The tone in his voice is serious, and a little charge moves through my stomach. It makes me miserable. I’ve already chosen him over Rowan, but I can’t let it happen. As much as I prefer spending time with him, I can’t blow this opportunity for Ava and me.

“Speaking of him, where is his royal majesty?”

“Probably playing Baccarat. Are you asking me to take you there?”

I can’t tell if he’s angry or not. He has an impeccable poker face. “You can get me a drink.”

“Your wish is my command. Champagne?”

“I think I had enough champagne last night. Gin and tonic.”

“Shit. I was hoping to cloud your judgment again.” He gives me a wink and saunters off to the elaborate bar.

I look down at my fingers twisting together. I’ve got to find Rowan. I’ve got to get my head out of the clouds and my ass with the crown prince. I wore this dress, these heels, all of it to entice him. Here I am reveling in the attentions of the wrong man.

Only a few moments pass, and he’s back. “Speaking of Balmain, you should go with me to the spring show. They’re one of the few houses that uses live orchestration.”

“I’ve never been to a fashion show.”

“That settles it, then.” He leans forward and whispers, “I’ll get that cherry.”

My heart beats faster. “Were you expecting to get another one?”

“No.” He stops and catches my chin, stealing a brief kiss along with my breath. “I’m not such a sexist prig to think if you’re not my first, I should be yours.”

“You’re the very model of a modern playboy prince.”

“Pirates of Penzance?”

Exhaling a laugh, I shake my head. “I’ve never seen it. I got that from that god-awful Pirate Movie.”

We’ve been walking since we got our drinks, and now we’re at the back entrance to the casino. He leads me out the ornate doors onto a long terrace overlooking the sea. The moon is just rising, touching the water with silvery tips. It’s gorgeous.

“You hate every movie,” he says.

“I do not. I just have a low tolerance for crap.”

Cal sits on the stone railing in front of me, and his warm hands cover the exposed skin on my hips as he pulls me close to his body.

“Where did you acquire such a refined taste in film?” He leans forward to kiss the side of my neck, and that little fish in my middle is flipping all over the place.

“Cal…” Setting my drink down, I push against his shoulders.

He only tightens his hold. “I’m not letting you go, so stop struggling. Now answer my question.”

My entire body is on fire. “My parents loved classic films. It’s where Ava…” Shit! “I mean, um… It’s why Ava and I became friends.”

“You have parents in common?” Another burning kiss.

“Our parents were a lot alike.”

“Interesting,” he murmurs, moving higher into my hair. My knees go liquid, and I almost collapse. “You smell delicious.”

His kisses travel to my jaw. Somehow I manage to bend my elbows and push myself out of his arms.

“Seriously, Cal, we’re not doing this.”

“Why the devil not? We did a damn good job of it last night.”

“I’d had too much champagne last night.”

His hazel eyes flash. “I’m calling bullshit on that, Miss Benedict, you were not drunk last night.”

I start to walk away, but he’s right behind me, catching my arm. “Wait. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Let’s talk some more.”

It’s a mistake. I know it with every fiber of my being, but I don’t leave. “It’s really beautiful here. I love the water.”

“We can walk down to the shore and look for ghost crabs,” he says, sliding my hair off my cheek with his finger. “If you twist your ankle, I’ll carry you this time.”

“Cal—” My argument is lost in his mouth covering mine.

He kisses me the way he always does, passionate and consuming. Our lips part, his tongue finds mine, and heat floods my core. Warm hands slide over my bare back, dipping lower, into the back of my dress. I push my fingers into his hair and pull him closer to me. Oh, god, I should stop this, but I want it so much.

“I love this dress,” he murmurs against my cheek, and pleasure snakes up my thighs along with his fingers.

He’s lifting my skirt, making his way to the center. I hold my breath, waiting for him to discover…

“Fuck me,” he hisses, and our eyes lock. That naughty grin splits his cheeks. “Somebody forgot her panties tonight.”

Laughter explodes from my lips, and I drop my forehead against his shoulder. “Oh my god,” I groan as his finger slides over my clit, making me jump. “Oh, god, Cal.” I’m not arguing anymore, I’m begging.

“You don’t have to beg, beautiful, I’ll make you come.” Husky words, lost in our mouths as he kisses me again, deeper, taking what he wants. It’s what we both want.

Instinctively, my knee rises, allowing my skirt to go higher on my legs. Cal never stops touching me, sliding his fingers rapidly over that rigid little button until my thighs begin to tremble.

A strangled moan is lost in his mouth. He rotates his hand and plunges two thick fingers deep inside me, while still massaging my clit. My grip tightens on his arms, my nails cut into the fabric of his coat as I start to come.

“Oh, god… Oh, Oh, Cal!” I’m gasping, shamelessly riding his hand.

“Yes, fuck it out, sexy.” His voice is hot in my ear, his lips touching the skin just behind it. Chills fly down my arms, and the muscles deep in my core spasm again. “Damn, I wish my dick were in there.”

“Cal,” I whisper. He’s so dirty. Who knew I’d be so turned on by his wicked mouth?

“What do you want, sexy?” His face hovers over mine. My eyes are still closed, and through the haze, I feel him kiss them gently. He kisses my nose. “You want more?”

Hell, yes, I want more. Blinking up at him, I can’t say it. He’s so fucking gorgeous here in the moonlight. I’m slowly coming down. My breath is becoming calmer, and all I want is him. I want all of him.

“What am I going to do?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but too late.

“You’re going to come with me across the street to the Paris Hotel, and we’re going to spend the night together in one of their penthouse suites. I have a fantasy to act out.”

He pulls his hand out of my dress, and steps back. I’m frozen in place watching him. Our eyes are locked as he slips those two amazing fingers into his mouth, tasting me on them.

“Delicious,” he says, giving me a wink.

I almost collapse. He pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket, and uses it to finish cleaning up. I push my skirt lower on my hips, feeling the remnants of what we did slick on my thighs.

“I’ve got to visit the powder room.” I hold the wall behind me until I’m sure I have my balance. “Then I’m going to find Ava.”

My brain might be scrambled by this sexy player, but I’m not going anywhere without knowing where she is and talking to her. It’s what we do, and nothing can make me forget about my responsibility to her.

Cal’s lips twist. I know by the tent in his slacks he wants more now. Hell, I want more now, but I’m not the type who forgets everything important the minute she orgasms, no matter how fantastic it is. I’ve never been that person.

“You’re going to kill me, Zelda Benedict,” he sighs, placing a palm on the stone wall beside my head and leaning forward.

I step to the side and turn quickly into the casino. “I’ll meet you inside, then you can take me to that Baccarat room.”

Rowan

As I wait for Ava to emerge from the powder room, I speak to the head of my security team. “I want you to sweep the area by the fountain. We’re headed that way, and I don’t want a single fucking photographer in the area.”

“Yes, sir,” the man says, and he signals two of the guards. They leave us with still two more men in dark suits lingering in the periphery.

Ava walks out, and as soon as our eyes meet, my stomach tightens. She’s reapplied her lipstick, and her hair is smoother.

“I didn’t mean to muss you,” I say when she returns to my side. I don’t hesitate to take her hand in mine, and she doesn’t pull away. It’s a small sign of progress.

“Occupational hazard?” She slants her eyes at me.

“If only my occupation were so enjoyable.”

“Didn’t you want to play Baccarat? Zee’s probably looking for us there.”

“I’ve told security our plans. I’d like to show you the fountain… if you still want to see it?”

Her beautiful smile appears. “I would love to see it.”

I lift her small hand to my lips and kiss the tops of her fingers. “I want to give you the things you love.”

The softness in her eyes is very encouraging. I lead her out the side doors and down the wide, stone staircase. We follow a curved sidewalk lined with different varieties of palms.

A small crowd has gathered to watch the water show. I scan the area and see my men stationed near the entrances. I intentionally wore a plain black tux, no insignia, hoping to blend in. Still the word gets out. My hope is we can make it through the four-minute show without attracting attention.

Instead of staying apart, I lead us into the middle of the group to use them as camouflage. My back is to the low, stone railing, and I position Ava in front of me, her back against my chest. Her head is just at my jaw, and I slide my palm over the skin of her flat stomach. She flinches slightly, but her hand finds mine, and our fingers lace just as the show begins.

Rainbow lights fill the streams of water, and they swirl and dance to the music of a Bach suite for cello. The way I’m holding her, I feel her every response to the display. The music swells, and her breath quickens. I can’t resist, I lean down and press my lips to the side of her neck, just behind her hair. Her grip on my hand tightens, and I know she’s mine. It’s the finale, and all that’s left is to take her the short distance across the street to the Paris Hotel.

The final drops of water descend into the pool. The crowd claps softly before beginning to disperse, and she turns to face me. Our fingers are still entwined, and she’s smiling. Her eyes sparkle, and the moon highlights the tips of her hair.

“What now?” she says softly.

“Let’s walk.” Then I hesitate. “Unless your shoes—”

“I came prepared,” she laughs, moving her skirt aside to show me the bronze leather sandals she’s wearing. “I’d love to walk.”

“You’re tall,” I say, without thinking. “I like that.”

She grins. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten used to being the tall girl. Apparently, my tall father married my short mother, and I took after Dad.”

“Tell me about your parents.”

Her hand is in my arm, and we’re walking down the beige stones, under black lanterns topped with white globes.

“I only know them through what my sister’s told me. I was so young when they died.”

“You lived with relatives?”

She shakes her head, and I don’t miss the shadow that clouds her expression. “We were orphans. I guess we still are.”

“I’m sorry.” Sliding my fingers over the back of her hand, I try to imagine how her life has been. “Were you alone?”

“We were put in the foster care system.” She says no more, but I can infer the rest from her tone.

“It was a bad experience?”

“We ultimately ran away. We spent a few years hiding under bridges and sneaking into boat houses until we started making enough money to afford a room.”

I’m surprised by the tightness in my chest at this revelation. I haven’t known her long enough to feel this burn of protectiveness toward her.

“We’re so far removed from the States. We have a fairytale notion someone like you would naturally have a safe place to live and plenty of food to eat.”

“They should…” her voice trails off, and I’m sorry I led us down this dark train of thought. She breaks it, however. “Enough of that. Tell me about your family. What is it like growing up as the future king of Monagasco?”

Smoothing the back of her hand with mine, I think about my childhood. “I wasn’t spoiled. My parents tried to give Cal and me as normal a life as possible.”

“Considering you had everything you wanted?” She laughs, and I know she’s teasing.

“It’s true, but they made us do chores, pick up after ourselves. We weren’t allowed to be wasteful or selfish. We had to go with them to charity events, serve at soup kitchens, all that sort of thing.”

She stops walking and faces me. The white streetlights glow golden in her hair. “It’s why you’re kind. I’ve felt it from the start.”

A breeze whispers around us, sending a lock of her dark hair across her cheek. I catch it and move it away. Her green eyes are stunning against her tanned skin.

“I confess, my thoughts haven’t been kind since I’ve met you.” I exhale a laugh. “All I can think of is seeing you naked.”

Her lips press into a grin and she starts to laugh. “You certainly have a one-track mind.”

“I feel like I should apologize, but dammit. I won’t.”

It’s her turn to surprise me. She presses that gorgeous body into my chest and slides back the lock of too-long hair that’s fallen across my forehead.

“I won’t apologize either, then. I’ve wanted to see you naked since that first night on the balcony.”

“Are you saying you’ll go with me to the hotel?”

“Will I get my wish?” Her fingers have moved to the base of my neck, and I grasp her bare torso, pulling her hard against me.

“How fast can you walk?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I’m pretty fast when I need to be.”

“I feel the need to move quickly.”

She laughs softly, as I kiss her teasing lips.

13

EVENING

Zelda

CAL WEARS a satisfied grin walking back from checking in with the royal guards. I can only imagine what he’s about to say.

“His royal majesty and Miss Wilder left an hour ago. You know what that means?” The look on his face makes my stomach squirm.

“What? Where did they go?” I want to be angry at Ava for doing what I wouldn’t, but at the same time, I disappeared on her again. At least she’s with the crown prince and his team of bodyguards.

“The Paris Hotel was their ultimate destination. It means they’re off to do some royal fucking.” His hand snakes around my waist, pulling me close. “We should follow their lead.”

My chest clenches unexpectedly. “What?” Ava and Rowan? “That’s impossible. Why would you say that?”

“Perhaps because he’s obsessed with her. He sent her flowers, he can’t keep his eyes off her, and he looks like he wants to punch me in the face whenever I touch her.”

“What the hell?” I walk slowly to one of the blackjack tables where only two men in tuxedoes are playing. Cal is behind me, but I’m too distracted to notice.

How did I miss this? Would Ava throw the job? I suppose I’ve already thrown it telling her I slept with Cal.

“Miss?” The dealer looks at me expectantly, and I scan the rules for the table.

Twenty Euro minimum. I take one of the colorful chips from my bag and place it on the table to start my hand. The dealer nods and passes me two cards.

Facing up is a six of hearts, and my lips twist. Not very good. We turn over the other card, and it’s a five spades. I cast a quick glance at what he’s got, an Ace of diamonds.

“Double down,” I say automatically.

Next round, I get an eleven, dealer a queen of hearts. The men beside me make noises of approval. I now have eighty Euro.

“One more,” I say, tapping my finger in front of me.

Two kings.

“Split,” I say, feeling my insides start to relax.

Cards are easy. Blackjack makes sense. People are hard. I reach into my bag and place four twenty-Euro chips on the table. Cards go around, I’m dealt a ten of hearts and an Ace of spades. The two men playing with me make louder noises.

Cal leans down and speaks in my ear. “Someone knows her way around the blackjack table.”

At once I snap out of it, realizing what I’m doing. “Must be beginner’s luck,” I laugh as the dealer passes me eight twenty-Euro stacks. “Would you change those to fifties, please?”

He pulls them back and slides three white chips across the table along with one twenty chip. I slip them along with the remaining two chips in my bag, and when I stand, I can’t miss Cal’s expression.

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” he says with a grin.

“I told you my dad liked to gamble.”

“You didn’t tell me you did.”

Shrugging, I walk slowly away from the table. “We would play blackjack when it rained.”

“Must’ve rained a lot.”

“We were in Florida, so you know.”

“Florida? I thought you grew up in Texas?”

Jesus! This revelation about Ava has me completely floored. I’m forgetting everything! “He lived in Florida… after my parents divorced.” Blinking fast, I keep spinning the lie. “It’s how I met Ava.”

I glance up, and Cal’s eyes narrow. I’m not sure he believes me, but I can’t worry about that now. Now all I can think about is Reggie and what’s going to happen when he finds out. If Rowan’s security guards know, what’s to stop them from telling the grand duke? I stop when we reach the small gallery of couches and plush chairs. Cal stops in front of me, and he’s frowning, arms crossed.

“What?” I say, hesitantly.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s got you so thrown. The fact that Rowan’s with Ava or vice versa.”

Taking a deep breath, I give just a little. “I’m worried about her. She’s younger than me, and… inexperienced.”

“You’re worried because she’s a virgin?”

My eyes flash. “That’s none of your business.”

Both his hands go up. “You said it.”

Now I feel even worse. I’m moving fast, and Cal’s right with me, waiting as I exchange my chips at the cashier and following as I go through the doors. I skip down the stairs, past the line of exotic, ultra-expensive sports cars parked out front, past the large, mirrored sculpture, to the line of fountains.

Only then I stop, stepping forward to the low wall surrounding the arched spray. Cal is beside me, hands in his pockets, and I’m sure he’s waiting for what the hell I’ll do next. I don’t even know.

Wrapping one arm over my stomach, I glance up at him. “I’m sorry, I just… I feel responsible for her.”

He smiles and steps to me, putting a hand on my waist and pulling me to his side. I don’t fight him. I kind of like the comfort of Cal’s arms. It’s the first time I’ve been with a man who didn’t make me feel defensive or protective in a long time.

“I think it’s nice you worry about your friend. It means you have a good heart.”

I look at my pewter nails, thinking about the reason we’re even in Monagasco. “I’m not so sure about that.”

He turns me to face him, and warm fingers catch my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “I’m sure.”

This time when he smiles, it’s different. He’s not teasing me, he’s not flirting. It’s genuine concern, and I feel a little shift in my chest, like something changed.

He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. My eyes close, and I feel his lips touch my nose. It makes me smile. It makes my insides unclench.

“Thanks,” I say, leaning back. “I guess I had a moment. She is a grown woman, right?” As much as I hate not having a plan for this.

My lip catches in my teeth. I think about what I know of Rowan, how he helped me after I twisted my ankle, carrying me to my room, the ibuprofen and water, the gown the size of a circus tent. Then I think about my other concern. “You don’t think the guards will tell everyone, do you? That’s she’s with him?”

“They only told me because I asked, because of you.”

I feel a distinct sense of relief at those words. Cal’s fingers lace with mine as we approach the next fountain, and I step closer to his side. The arched water is lit with bright yellow lights, and for a moment we pause to watch it.

“You shouldn’t worry,” he says. “Rowan is pretty decent when it comes to women. He’s not an asshole like me.”

That makes me laugh. “How are you an asshole?”

A little shrug and we’re walking again. My heels make clicking noises on the beige stone pavers.

“It’s what the media calls me, the Playboy Prince.”

“What makes you a playboy?” I squint up at him, and he’s studying the path ahead of us.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I’ve been caught in a few interesting situations.”

“Is that so?”

He clears his throat. “I think it’s more because I rarely date the same person twice. I get bored easily.”

“Hmm… I guess I’ve been warned.”

“Not you,” he says, with a laugh. “I can’t tell what you’re going to do from one moment to the next.”

We’ve rounded the last fountain, and beyond a stand of banana trees, I see the Paris Hotel rising into the sky. His proposal from earlier in the evening crosses my mind. I’m feeling less worried and more playful now that I know Ava’s safe and we’re not likely to be caught. At least not tonight.

“So about the Paris Hotel… Do you have a standing reservation? Should I ask for The Playboy Prince Suite?”

“I wish. It’s more a byproduct of having an owner’s share. We get amazing rates.”

“Your family owns the hotel?” We emerge from the garden path, and the full façade of the enormous building comes into view. My mouth drops open, and I stop walking.

“Wow,” I whisper.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

I follow him up the stairs to the ornate, dark-wood entrance of the elaborate hotel. Inside it’s decorated to match the casino, with blue Persian rugs and tall, white ceilings covered in statues and scrollwork.

Cal goes straight to the desk, where the attendant recognizes him at once. “Your majesty.” He does a little bow, and Cal only waves.

“Is the Garnier suite available?”

“Ahh,” the man whispers, leaning forward, “I’m afraid not. Your brother—”

“Right, nevermind. How about 3-2-1?”

“Of course. One moment, sir.”

The card is passed across the desk, and Cal pulls me to him, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we walk to the elevator. “You’ll like this one. It’s all the way at the top and lots of champagne.”

He kisses my temple, and I laugh.

“How is it at the top when it’s numbered 321?”

A momentary pause, then he seems to understand. “No, it’s a countdown. Three, two, one. The theme actually changes quarterly, depending on the sponsor.”

“Sounds like you stay here a lot.”

“When Rowan is in the Grand Prix, it’s the best place for watching the race. Otherwise the traffic is prohibitive.”

The elevator is all mirrors and gleaming, dark wood. Once we’re inside, he slides his card before hitting the button for the top floor. The doors close, and he pulls my arm, positioning me between his body and the mirrored wall.

“Feeling better?” Hazel eyes hold mine a moment.

I trace a finger along the line of his jaw, thinking how this might be the last time we’re together. It’s a sad thought, I decide to put out of my head.

“Yes,” I say softly, and in that moment, the space between us disappears.

His mouth is on mine, pushing my lips apart. A little whimper squeaks from my throat as our tongues curl against each other’s. I have to hold the lapels of his coat to keep from sliding down the cool wall in a puddle. Warm hands are again on the bare skin of my waist, but this time, his thumbs slide to the front of my dress, teasing the skin on my stomach. I groan as the bell rings, and the elevator stops.

“I’m ready to get you out of that dress,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me out of the shiny, mirrored box to the gleaming entrance of the suite.

“Dom Pérignon?” I read on the plaque above the numbers 3-2-1!

“I told you,” he slides the card and the door opens. “Lots of champagne.”

We stop just inside the door for another kiss, and as it closes, I feel his fingers working behind my neck, sliding the zipper down the back of my dress. His lips chase mine, and my top falls to my waist, revealing the pink satin demi-bra that only covers the lower half of my breasts. My nipples play peek-a-boo over the tops of the lace edges.

“Jesus, it just gets better,” he groans deeply, leaning down to cup the bottom of one and pull my beaded nipple between his lips, soaking the lace.

The sensation registers directly between my thighs, and I let out a little moan, threading my fingers into the sides of his hair.

“Cal,” I gasp. “You’re getting my bra all wet.”

“To match those panties… Oh, right,” he teases, with a wink.

With a flick of his wrist, his bow tie is undone. Coat off, he unbuttons his top two buttons followed by his cuffs, never taking his eyes off me. I shiver at the darkness brimming there.

“Take off that dress,” he says in a low voice, as he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his lined torso.

I reach down to unfasten my heels, and he stops me. “No, leave those on. Just the dress.”

Straightening, my back is still against the wall, I hook my thumbs in the sides of my skirt and shimmy it over my hips. It lands on the floor in a soft thump around my heels, and I step out. Cal stops moving, and I’m sure I’ll burst into flames at his expression. His gaze moves from my breasts, down the line of my stomach to my bare pussy, down my legs to the gold, strappy heels. I see his Adam’s apple move once before he steps forward, catching my face roughly in his grip and pulling my mouth to his.

Once our lips collide, his other hand moves straight between my legs, cupping me, plunging two fingers deep inside. My gasp of shock and passion disappears in his mouth. I’m grasping at his arms, his shoulders, my nails scratching his skin.

“Come with me,” he says, his voice low and thick.

He takes my hand and pulls me through the suite to the small bedroom. Windows are all around overlooking the lights of the night, but I don’t see them. All I see is him. I’m on the bed in a toss, and his hands move along the waist of his black pants. They’re off, and he’s with me, holding my shoulder as he finds my mouth. He lies back on the bed, and I know what he wants. I’m across him in a straddle, reaching around for his hard length, positioning it before I drop down, taking him all the way, balls deep.

“Fuck me,” he hisses, as I sit up straight. He’s lying back against the pillows, eyes sparkling, and I roll my hips, rocking him into me.

I pull the band out of my hair, and it falls around my shoulders. Reaching behind me, I unfasten my bra and toss it aside so the curling tips of my hair tickle just beneath my hardened nipples. I rise up on my knees and drop down, rotating my hips again.

“Fuck—it’s so much better than my fantasy,” he gasps.

I feel powerful. I’ve never felt this way before. Leaning forward, I put my hands on either side of his head and kiss him deeply. He’s thrusting, still moving inside me, stretching and massaging me in the most erotic way. In this position, my clit is pressed against his skin, and the friction of our bodies sends waves of pleasure snaking down my legs.

Now I’m pushing his lips apart, finding his tongue. His fingers cut into my ass as he grips me. I’m panting and gasping, chasing the orgasm just within my reach. We’re moving faster. He’s hitting me hard, rocking into me, when SLAP! I jump at the sting of his palm against my ass.

“Oh!” I cry from the surprise, pleasure mixed with stinging pain.

His hands rub and knead my flesh and again SLAP! another hard strike against my ass.

“Oh, god…” I start to tremble. My thighs shake as I start to come.

I’m rocking my hips against him faster, grinding out my orgasm, and he’s gripping me, moving me over him. The pleasure tightens in my pelvis. My teeth clench and my eyes squeeze shut as the most powerful orgasm rockets through my body. I make noises I don’t recognize, animalistic and wild. He groans deeply, holding me, riding out this explosion with me.

We roll together so I’m on my back, and he finishes, thrusting hard and then tapering off, rocking in a rhythm that brings us down from a high I never imagined.

Our lips meet, kissing softer, tasting each other gently. I reach up to cup his cheeks as our lips follow each other’s again and again while we slow to a long embrace.

Cal’s large hand smooths my hair away before sliding down the length of my body. He’s over me, propped on his elbows, and our eyes meet. We hold each other in that gaze a few moments. I feel like I’m in a place I never knew existed.

“We haven’t even gotten to the champagne yet,” he says with that trademark naughty grin.

My eyes close, and I exhale a laugh. His hands are near my face, and I feel him touching my skin, sliding his thumb across my lips before he leans down and kisses me again, a little rougher this time. My mouth opens automatically, and our tongues embrace. I reach up to hold him, sliding my fingers over the lines of his neck and shoulders.

“Shit, Zee,” he groans, dropping beside me on the mattress and pulling me to him without a moment’s hesitation. “You have to stay longer than a week. You have to stay through the race. I need you here for that.”

Laughing, I trace my finger along the lines in his stomach, back and forth over the six-pack of his abs. “You need me here for a race?”

“It’ll be boring without you. The same old crowd doing the same old shit.”

I prop my head on my hand so our eyes can meet. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” he looks over his shoulder at the clock. “I’ll unplug the clock and order room service.”

I laugh as he scoots off the bed, his perfectly chiseled muscles flexing as he moves around the room. He takes a black binder off the desk and returns to me in the bed, leaning against the headboard as he opens it to the food menu.

“Give me that,” I say, taking it from him.

“Order carbs.” He kisses my shoulder, sliding down to rest his head in my lap. “We’re going to be burning a lot of calories tonight.”

Flipping the pages, I land on a Mediterranean pizza that sounds delicious. “I found it! Pizza and champagne.” Leaning forward, I reach for the room phone while he coils around my waist.

I’m just pressing the buttons as he playfully bites my hip. The server thinks I’m insane, but I manage to say what we want between being bitten and Cal’s insistence on leaving a hickey on my breast.

“She said twenty minutes.” I drop the phone on the base.

“Just enough time for Round 2!” He tosses the binder on the floor and pulls my body back to his. I’m powerless to resist as he kisses his way down the length of my torso.

14

FANTASIES

Rowan

THE GARNIER SUITE balcony overlooks the fountains and the gardens spreading out in front of the Royal Casino. I’ve opened a bottle of champagne, and I stand with Ava watching the glowing orange fountains and the tourists strolling in the moonlight.

“No matter what happens, I can never forget this night,” she says softly, looking over the grounds below.

“A rather ominous thought, yes?” I reach up and smooth a lock of dark hair off her shoulder.

She blinks to me and smiles. “It’s only accurate. The last few weeks have been so unexpected. I can’t imagine what’s next.”

“I agree with you on that.” I think about everything that’s happened since that ridiculous photo hit the tabloids. “I thought my life was torture enough, and then it got worse. Then I found you.”

Setting her glass down, she places both hands on my shoulders. “I wasn’t supposed to meet you. None of this was supposed to happen.”

I set my wine glass aside as well and cup her cheeks. “Who decides what’s supposed to happen? We did meet, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

Pulling her close, I capture her mouth in a passionate kiss. Her soft lips open to me, and as our tongues slide together, heat floods my pelvis. My erection strains against my zipper. I want to be inside her. I want to ease this prolonged tension in her warm body.

She steps back, placing her palm against my cheek and sliding her thumb down my lips. She hesitates, and her eyes lock on mine as she nudges it into my mouth. I give it a firm suck, and I’m rewarded with a sharp gasp. Her lips part.

“Ava,” I say in a voice just a notch above a groan. “I need to be inside you.”

She nods, turning her back to me. In a sweep, her long hair is over her shoulder. “Help me with my top.”

A small silver zipper is exposed, and I carefully slide it down, watching the fabric fall away until only her black bra is left. She turns to face me, and my breath skips at the unforgettable sight of her breasts covered in sheer black lace. Her dark nipples tease me through the thin fabric, and my body aches for her.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you,” she whispers in response.

I watch, mesmerized as she reaches behind her, and her bra falls away. Her breasts are bare, nipples tight. I reach up to grasp one, rolling the pink bud between my fingers as she moans. She’s still wearing her skirt, and I’m still in my tux.

“Give me just a moment.” I swiftly undo my tie, shrug off my jacket, and unbutton my shirt enough so I can pull it over my head.

She watches, biting her lip as I swiftly remove my clothes. Once my chest is bare, I pull her to me, pressing her gorgeous breasts against my chest. It feels so good.

“Let me do the biting tonight,” I say, kissing the side of her jaw before giving it a little nip.

She exhales a moan and pushes her arms around my neck, pulling us closer together. We’re still on the balcony, under the gorgeous moonlight with the beautiful view of the fountain and gardens below, the sea just behind them. The night air is cool, and I reach down to remove my pants quickly.

My erection is pointed right at her, and her eyes darken as she leans down to remove her skirt. I imagine her taking me between those pillow lips, sucking me to ecstasy—but not before I’ve come between her thighs.

I sit in the chair, and she moves to me. My hands are on her waist, and I pull her onto my lap in a straddle. She holds a square condom packet, and I wait as she tears it open, positioning it over my tip and rolling it down my length, leaving room for the massive orgasm that’s been building all night.

Grasping her hips, I’m ready to plunge deep into her hot core, but she tenses. I hesitate a moment. “Is something wrong?”

She blinks down and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet. “I’m not a virgin, but…”

Straightening, I pull her to me, smoothing her dark hair off her face. “What is it, Ava?”

Her chin drops, and her cheeks flame red. My brow lines in confusion, and I lift her in my arms, carrying her inside to the enormous king-sized bed. I move the thick blankets aside and ease us to the center, her on her back and me beside her.

“Tell me,” I say gently. “Why are you afraid?”

“I’m embarrassed,” she whispers, her beautiful green eyes fixed on my shoulders.

I touch her so lightly along her face, down her cheek. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I want to know everything about you.”

She clears her throat softly. “Just… please be gentle. I’ve never been with someone because I wanted to.”

My brow lines as I try to understand. “Do you mean—?”

“Don’t,” she whispers, reaching up to touch my lips. “I want this to be perfect.”

The meaning of what she said twists in my stomach. That protectiveness I felt earlier roars to life in my chest, now along with a knot of anger. I pull her to me, burying my face in her sweet smelling hair and inhaling deeply as I hold her. Her small hands are around me, holding me just as close. She’s not fighting me; she’s not pulling away. She’s trusting me with knowledge I hate knowing.

Lifting my head, I look deep into her eyes. “I will never hurt you, Ava,” I say, infusing the words with all the conviction I feel in my chest.

She only studies my face a moment before she smiles. “I know. It’s why I’m here.”

Reaching for her neck, I gently pull her beautiful mouth to mine. Her hands are on my neck, my shoulders, and I take her lips gently, then with a little more force. She meets me with equal intensity, and it’s what I need to know.

I push her lips apart with my mouth, and as our tongues connect and curl together, my erection surges back. She exhales a soft moan, and my kisses move to her chin, down to her beautiful breasts. I slide my palms over one, covering a nipple with my mouth and giving it a firm suck, a little bite.

Her back arches, and she moans louder. I’m moving lower, to the strip of lace across her hips. Clasping both sides, I jerk them off her, and sigh at the sight of her bare pussy, a bit of cream hiding inside.

She makes a little cry when I pull her to my mouth, tasting her, sliding my tongue up and down the length of her slit. Her hips jump, and she moans. Her flat stomach quivers, and I’m determined to make her come hard.

“You want this,” I say, nipping the inside of her thigh, rising higher to kiss the crease in her leg.

“Yes… oh, god, yes!” she gasps, gripping in the sheets.

I’m back on her, running my tongue up and around her slick folds not stopping until I feel her break. I kiss her clit, pulling the tight little bud again and again until she’s no longer shaking, she’s crying out, trying to wriggle away.

“Okay,” I say with a grin, releasing her thighs and kissing her stomach, sliding my tongue up the length of her body until I’m over her, looking deep into her sexy eyes, shining with satisfaction.

“My turn,” I whisper, kissing her full lips.

She holds my face, kissing me back hard as I plunge deep into her swollen depths. She’s hot and soft and so fucking tight.

“Oh, god!” she gasps, her nails cutting into my skin.

I instantly slow my pace, finding her eyes. “Are you okay?” I whisper, stroking her cheek with my thumb.

“You’re so big,” she gasps. “I feel so… full.”

“Am I hurting you?” My brow tightens. I’m so fucking gone, I don’t know what I’ll do if she says yes.

She pauses a moment that feels like an eternity before shaking her head. “No, it-it feels… good.” Her cheeks flood with pink, and I kiss her again, holding her face as I begin to rock her. I couldn’t stop if I tried.

Her body is so sexy, so hot and tight, and now she’s moving with me, bucking her hips and working my dick like we’ve been here before. My ass tightens, and I feel my orgasm mounting. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek, and I lean up to pull the soft skin of her jaw between my teeth.

“Oh, Rowan,” she whispers, moving her hips faster. “Oh, god!” she gasps, and I reach down between us, searching for that place between her thighs.

I fumble for her clit, covering the top of her mound and massaging the sides as my hips move faster. When I touch her center, she gasps, and her insides clench just before breaking into spasms. Tightness explodes through my pelvis. I’m pulsing, filling that fucking condom, blacking out from intense pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp, holding her, my eyes squeezed shut. My dick pulses deep inside her, and her muscles continue working me, pulling and milking.

“Ava.” It’s a ragged groan through the waves of orgasm.

We’re holding each other. She holds my shoulders, clinging to me as much as I am to her. I lift my head and find her mouth, kissing her like she’s water in the desert. Our lips part, tongues collide, and we consume again and again.

She’s sweet and innocent and sexy and intoxicating. I’m not sure how I’ll ever get enough of her passionate soul.

“Ava,” I whisper her name, sliding my fingers up to her soft hair and down the side of her beautiful face.

She reaches up and cups my cheeks, holding me as she kisses my face. I turn and kiss her palm.

“Your majesty,” she whispers then exhales a small laugh. Her green eyes roll and she shakes her head.

“What?” I can’t stand to think she’s second-guessing this.

“A king,” she says, with another little laugh. “How can I have fallen for a king?”

Satisfaction floods my chest. I lean up and prop my head on my hand. Running my other down the length of her body. I pause at her soft breast, circling my thumb over her nipple and watching it harden in response. I flatten my palm against her stomach then wrap it around to cup her gorgeous ass. Glancing up, I meet her eyes studying me, watching my reaction to her body’s responses.

“Have you fallen for me?” I ask. I want to hear her say it again.

A playful smile curls her lips. “Did I say that out loud?”

I laugh as I lean down, pressing our smiles together just before they melt into a passionate kiss. How is it possible? I’ve fallen for her as well.

Zelda

I’m lying on my side on the brown sectional sofa. Cal sits on the floor with his back leaning where my face is propped on my hand. On his lap is a plate of the best pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life.

“It’s crack pizza,” I announce, as he holds up another slice for me to bite. “I’ve never tasted anything this delicious, and it’s only cheese.”

“We take our cheese very seriously,” he says, leaning his head back to look at me.

I lean forward and kiss him. I haven’t stopped kissing him since we made love. I don’t want to stop as long as we still have time together. I’m so fucking afraid of what’s going to happen tomorrow, I refuse to let myself even think about it. Instead, I’ll soak up as many memories of MacCallam Lockwood Tate while I still can.

“Mm,” he says, swallowing his bite and changing the channels on the enormous flat screen television. “You must love this one. It’s black and white.”

I look up to see he’s stopped on a scene in which Woody Allen is walking beside a very young Meryl Streep.

“Manhattan! I do love this one!” I give his shoulder a brief shake and he laughs.

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

Falling back against the cushions I close my eyes. “Just listen to that Gershwin soundtrack.” I sit up quickly, just in time to see Meryl Streep slide the weight of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Look how beautiful she is.”

“She reminds me of someone.”

“Jennifer Lawrence. I’ve always thought that. Statuesque, blonde, amazing actress…”

“Hmm,” I can see his brow line in the flickering light. “I was thinking about you.”

“Me?” The way he says it makes me feel self-conscious. “Our noses are different.”

“Your hair is the same, your eyes…” He shifts, facing me. “You’re equally captivating.”

He’s looking at me too intently. I turn away and take another bite of crack pizza while the characters onscreen argue about the nature of politics in Ingmar Bergman films.

“Pseudo-intellectuals,” I say, hoping to break the sudden awkwardness.

With a quiet laugh, he pushes off the floor. “I think we should move this party to the bedroom.”

“Really?” I give the room service cart a quick survey. Half the pizza remains on the silver platter. “We’ll have to leave our drugs out here unguarded.”

“I’ll save the champagne. You cover the crack.” He motions with the dark green bottle. “It’ll keep until morning.”

With a sigh, I push off the couch and step over to place the silver lid over the remaining food. I’m just turning back when I catch sight of his tight, naked ass disappearing into the bedroom, and chase after him to grab it.

Cal tackles me at once, and we fall onto the bed laughing. He holds me down and kisses me firmly on the mouth. I kiss him back, and when he rolls onto his back, I pop up.

“Are you tired?”

“Hell, no. I’m just warming up. I plan on fucking you three point seven more times tonight.”

“Point seven. You’re very precise in your measurements.”

“It’s possible the last time will run over into tomorrow.”

Turning my head, I strain to look at the clock. “I think we’ve already made it to tomorrow.”

Catching my chin, he pulls my face back around. “Quit being a party pooper. You pooped out on me last night.”

“I was really tired last night!”

We scoot around so we’re side by side, resting against the pillows. I lean forward to put my cheek against his bare chest. I love hearing the sound of his breath, his heart beating.

“I’m just the opposite,” he says, thoughtfully, threading his fingers in the back of my hair. “I sprained my wrist playing tennis once, and I was so adrenalized, it took me forever to fall asleep.”

“Is that why you brought me a bottle of champagne?”

“Partly.” His fingers find the back of my neck, giving it a stroke before threading into my hair again. I snuggle deeper into his side, loving the feeling of him touching me. “It’s possible I had ulterior motives.”

“Well, you got what you came for.” I lift my head and press a kiss against his heated skin. “Still, I was exhausted. We ran all over that museum, then we ran all over the beach.”

He chuckles, causing my head to bounce. “I told you my uncle would take you to that damn aquarium.”

“I loved the aquarium.” We’re quiet a moment, and I think about what he said. “You were right, though. About your uncle.”

“I know that old fellow pretty well. Grew up with him.”

Pushing up to a sitting position, I lean beside him. His eyes are on the television, and I study his profile, his straight nose and full lips, the little line in his chin.

“So what happened with him?” I ask quietly, internally holding my breath.

Hazel eyes meet mine. “What do you mean?”

Blinking down, I run my finger along the top of his shoulder. “I mean, why are you on the outs with him? Why is Rowan so angry?”

He does a little frown before answering. “It’s matters of state.”

“You mean it’s classified or something? Like you could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me?”

That makes him grin. “Hardly. More like you’ll find it so boring you’ll fall asleep on me again.”

“I don’t think I will. I really want to know.”

He shifts to the side. “Why?”

Shrugging, I glance down. “Reggie is the reason I met you. I guess, I want to know why you’re so angry with him. I wouldn’t know you if it weren’t for him.”

He catches my chin and lifts my face. “That is definitely a point in his favor.” A quick kiss, and he gathers me to his chest. “About six years ago, right before our father died, Rowan overheard Reggie plotting with Hubert Farbridge, a member of the cabinet. I don’t know what was said, but Rowan took it to mean they were conspiring to cause our father’s death.

“Cause his death? But how? Did they shoot him?”

“His heart was bad. He had a terrible temper, and they knew how to get him worked up into a rage. The night he died they’d had a terrible fight about joining forces with Twatrington.”

My head pops up. “Twatrington? What’s that?”

He grins and runs his thumb along my jawline. “Our neighbor to the southwest. They’ve attacked farmers along our border for years. Their ultimate goal is to combine the two countries into one—under their rule.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Better access to the sea, tourism dollars. We’ve spent a lot of time cultivating relationships with the nobility. Most of our visitors spend large amounts of money here because they have deep pockets, and we’re thought of as something of a high-end destination.”

“I definitely agree with that. Everything is so beautiful and refined—the architecture, the sea. It’s like an elegant paradise.”

He shifts to the side and puts his palm on my face, softly running his fingers over my lips. The depth of his gaze makes my stomach squirm.

“Are you saying you might want to stay here? Longer than a week?”

That little fish is back, flipping all around my insides. “I think it would be amazing to stay here.”

He pulls me closer, rolling me onto my back and leaning down to kiss my neck, gradually working his way up to my jaw, sending heat rising under my skin, chasing after his luscious lips. We kiss long and passionately. I pull his bottom lip between mine; he catches my top. I’m completely turned on by the time we come up for air.

“Then we’ll have to figure out a reason for you to stay, won’t we?”

Exhaling a laugh, I shake my head. “If only it were that easy.”

“Maybe it can be.” He covers my mouth again, pulling me onto his lap in a straddle. I lift my hips, and he moves into position to plunge deep inside me, drowning my doubts in the flood of our desire.

15

AFTERGLOW

Rowan

OPENING my eyes in the bright, blue suite with Ava snuggled soft and warm at my side is like waking up in the clouds, no longer on Earth, just this side of heaven. Stretching gently, I do my best not to wake her. I shift to my side and look down at her.

Her knees are bent, and one hand is under her face. Her long lashes rest on the tops of her cheeks, and her pink lips are slightly parted. Dark hair fans out behind her, and my fingers ache to touch her. She’s so incredibly beautiful.

I think about last night, what she told me, and I have to wrestle down the fury threatening to rise in my chest again. She didn’t say the words, but from the implication… Was she raped?

I can’t even think it without thoughts of murder filling my mind. I don’t want to make her relive a painful time from her past, but if someone hurt my Ava in that way, I will find out who did it. That bastard’s days are numbered.

She stirs, exhaling a soft noise, and my chest tightens with joy. In spite of her past, she made love so passionately last night. She went with me wherever I wanted to take her. She stole my heart. I don’t know how I’ll let her leave at the end of her visit.

Her eyelids flutter, and the hand under her cheek reaches out. I catch it in my larger one, and pull it to my lips, causing her eyes to spring open.

“Rowan,” she says softly. I love sound of her voice saying my name. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes.” I slide the back of my fingers down the smooth skin of her arm.

Her shoulder rises and she exhales a laugh. “That tickles.”

“Ava,” I groan. Yep, my morning wood is aching, and it didn’t take more than that to push me over the edge.

Pulling her to me, I slide down to kiss her soft breasts, running my tongue over her tightening nipple before sucking it firmly into my mouth. She arches her back, softly laughing as her fingers thread into the sides of my hair.

“You didn’t get enough last night?” her voice taunts me. Still, she squirms around to press a kiss against my temple.

“No.” I move lower, kissing the curve of her hip before moving to the center, circling my tongue around her navel.

“Ooo, yes,” she gasps as I keep moving lower.

It’s possible I might never get enough of her beautiful body. Wrapping my arms around her thighs I spread her open so I can focus my attention directly on her clit. Her hips jerk and her hands fly to grasp my hair.

I need to be deep inside her, but I won’t take her without making her come, especially not after what she revealed to me. I want to show her how good this can be. I want all her orgasms. It only takes a few more concentrated passes before her hips are flexing, and she’s trying to squirm away.

“Rowan! Oh, god! I can’t… Stop!” She’s gasping and shaking, and I release her, kissing her lower stomach, just above that sensitive spot, rising up to her breasts, and finally arriving at her luscious lips.

She holds the back of my neck, kissing me hard, pulling me closer. It’s only a moment before we’re in position, and I plunge deep into her clenching insides. She’s so tight and hot, and I’m on the razor’s edge. It only takes a few hard thrusts before I’m shooting over the moon, releasing the tension that somehow seems to build up every night.

We’re entwined like contortionists, lying on our sides, easing down from another incredible high. Her face is pressed into my shoulder, and I hold her under the ass. Her long legs are wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck.

“Didn’t think we could do it again?” I tease as I kiss her.

Her head tilts back, and she smiles. “I think I can sleep a little longer.”

“Go right ahead,” I say, running my fingers over her ear, pushing her silky hair off her flushed cheeks. “I’ll be right here when you wake.”

She exhales a laugh and her dreamy eyes meet mine. “I was thinking about the night we met. You never told me your favorite Robert Frost poem.”

“Since that night, it’s become ‘In the Clearing.’”

“And before that night?”

We shift in the bed, and I move to my back, holding her securely against my chest. I hadn’t thought about things like poetry or love in years before that night. “It would have been before my father died.”

I feel her tracing her fingers along the lines of my chest, and I try to remember ever feeling this level of contentment.

Her voice is a smooth vibration. “I always liked the little horse in ‘Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.’”

“His impatient little horse, wondering why he’s feeling so contemplative.” It only takes a moment longer before I know my favorite. “‘Fire and Ice.’”

“Oh, I love that one.” Her head pops up, and a little grin is on her lips. “‘From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire’?”

I touch her lovely face again. “Especially now.”

She leans her cheek into my hand. “What are we going to do today?”

Thinking over my agenda, I decide to clear my schedule and spend the entire day with her. “Whatever you want. Name it.”

“Really?” Her brow lines, and I lean forward to kiss the frown away.

“Really. What would you like more than anything?”

“Hmm…” She slants her eyes as she thinks, and I can’t imagine what she’s going to say. “I want to see you race. Will you take me to the track and show me?”

It’s not what I expected, but it’s not an unwelcome suggestion. I only think about it a moment before I concede. “Yes, but I need to change. I guess you do as well. I’ll take you to your hotel, then I’ll pick you up at two and we’ll head to the track. Sound good?”

“I love it! I can’t wait.” She does a little bounce, and I can’t resist. I grab her around the waist and kiss her again.

Zelda

Cal drops me off at the Fairmont with a kiss and a plan to meet for lunch. I’m supposed to be showering and changing into something fresh, but instead I’m back in my bed, deep beneath the covers reliving last night.

We didn’t make love three point seven more times. It was a full four more times. My entire body heats as I remember the last, him taking me from behind. He gripped my breasts and bit the back of my neck as he plunged so deep between my thighs. It’s a hot memory, and my hand slides down between my legs when I hear the door open and then slam shut. I freeze for a half second when the sudden jolt of a body landing on my bed causes me to crawl to the surface.

“Ava?” My head pokes out from under the blankets, and I see my sister lying on her back, her arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish.

She sighs as if she’s fallen into a vat of cotton candy. “I had sex with a king.” Then she laughs. “Correction, I had sex with the king. I pretty much spent the entire night last night having orgasms. Can you believe it?”

I sit up and start to laugh. “I’m not sure you believe it. Do you need me to pinch you and be sure you’re awake?”

Rolling onto her stomach she looks up at me, and I confess. Something about her is different. I can’t put my finger on it, but she seems calmer somehow. She’s definitely glowing.

“He’s amazing, Zee. He’s strong and sexy and massive, and oh my god. His dick is so big—”

“Whoa! Hold it right there!” I wave my hand between us. “I don’t need to hear about his massive peen. It’s all I’ll be thinking about next time I see him. Back it up to the part about how he’s the king.”

She starts to laugh, and I do too. I’m only partly teasing about the penis size—apparently the brothers have something in common. I’m mostly happy and relieved and so glad she was with someone who took care of her.

“So you already knew he was strong and all that,” she says, then she falls back on the bed again. “He’s also so gentle and attentive and… possessive and demanding.”

Dropping onto my side, I prop my head on my hand, threading my fingers in her hair. “That’s awesome, Ava-bug!” She smiles, and her eyes drift around the room. I can tell she’s remembering something, but she suddenly snaps her attention back to me.

“Were you with Cal?” Pushing against the bed, she moves to a sitting position. “I didn’t want to leave without talking to you, but I remembered last time… I figured you and he were together. I know you care about him.”

Twining my finger around a long lock of dark hair, I give it a little tug. “I was a little freaked out when I heard you’d left with Rowan. I don’t like us not having a plan in case something goes wrong…”

“I know. I’m sorry, but it was Rowan. You’ve spent the night at his house. You know what a wonderful person he is. He’s the whole reason we’re here!”

I take a deep breath. She’s right, and I can’t argue with her. “In the future, we’ll be more careful.”

Her eyes drop to her lap. “I can’t seem to think about a future without him in it. What am I going to do, Zee?”

My brow lines, and I study her face. “I’ve been thinking about that question all night. Or trying not to think about it.”

Green eyes meet mine, and they’re flooded with worry. “You know Reggie lied to us. There’s no way Rowan is all those bad things he said.”

“I know.” I nod, looking down, thinking about my conversation with Cal. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“What if we tell them? We can just be honest and say Reggie lied to us. They might understand.”

“Yeah, but we lied to them. Over and over…” My stomach knots, and I want to cry when I think of what Cal will say when he learns the extent of my deception. How many times I lied to him and all the different ways. I feel that little fish in my insides dying.

Ava lunges forward, hugging my waist as she presses her cheek to my stomach. Her voice is a cracked whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of losing him. It hurts so much!”

I wrap my arms over her shoulder and lean down, hugging her to me. For several moments we stay that way, and I know the only way out of this is the hardest way possible.

“How did you leave it with Rowan today?”

She sits up, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “He’s picking me up after lunch. We’re going to the track, and he’s going to show me his race car.”

I’m about to answer her when my phone buzzes with a text. I look over at it, and I see it’s from Cal. Rowan is taking Ava to the track. Let’s go with them?

A lump is lodged at the base of my throat. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, glancing up at my sister. “Maybe we can put it off just a little longer? Hide from the truth and steal a few more hours?”

“Do you think we can?” She’s blinking back tears.

“It’s going to hurt like hell sooner or later.” I take her hand, and a shiver moves through her body. I’m trembling on the inside as well. “Maybe we can delay the pain just a little bit longer.”

16

SNAKE

Zelda

IN A ROAR as loud as a jet engine, Rowan’s red Formula 1 car soars past us on the practice track outside of town. It moves so fast, it’s hard to believe, and Ava’s on the edge of her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Cal’s watching his phone’s timer.

“One minute eight,” he says, touching the face. “He’s so fucking fast. Too bad he can never hit those speeds on the course.”

“It seems dangerous,” Ava says, looking nervously up at him.

Cal’s right beside me, an arm draped around my waist, smiling so big. “Nah, Ro’s an incredible racer. He’s been doing it for years.” Sitting a little straighter, he hands Ava his binoculars. “Watch as he comes through that set of curves. He’ll ease off a little on the first one then let it rip as he pulls into the straight. It’s how he’s able to clock such a great time. He’s fearless.”

I can’t help a grin watching the enthusiasm in his eyes. “You’re really proud of him,” I say, kissing his cheek.

He leans back and gives me a smug grin. “It’s not very sexy, I know. I should be more brooding and competitive. Loki.”

Snorting a laugh, I press my face against his shoulder. “I think it’s very endearing.”

Rowan’s car flies past in another blast of noise and blaze of red, and Cal stands. “Come, let’s walk down. It’s his last lap. We can meet him at the finish line.”

Ava’s on her feet at once, and we follow him along the silver bleachers to the steps leading down to the tarmac.

“It’s too bad he doesn’t compete anymore,” he continues.

We’re holding hands, and Ava strolls beside us. It’s a sunny day, and she’s wearing a white halter dress that ripples in the breeze. She topped it off with a wide-brimmed straw hat, and I swear she looks like she just stepped out of Vogue magazine. I look like I’m headed to a racetrack in cropped khaki cargo pants and a thin sleeveless tank. Cal’s more my speed in jeans and a thin V-neck sweater.

“Why doesn’t he compete anymore?” she asks, placing a hand on the top of her hat.

We step out onto the track, and the wind gusts around us. The sound of Rowan’s car echoes from the other side of the track.

“Too dangerous,” Cal says. “When these guys crash… well, not much is left.”

Ava’s eyes go round, and her cheeks go completely pale.

“But don’t worry!” he hastily adds. “Rowan’s done this so long, the chances of him having an accident alone on the track are slim to none.”

She does a little nervous nod and looks back out to where a streak of red races toward us at blinding speed.

“I’ve seen some of those wrecks,” I whisper in Cal’s ear. “They’re pretty scary.”

“You’d be surprised how far they’ve come with safety on these things. From the suit he wears down to the cockpit design. They’ve got it to where drivers can be out of the vehicle in five seconds.”

“Five? Out of that tiny thing?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive. They call it a ‘survival cell,’ and no fuel, oil, or water lines run through it. No more sitting, trapped in a fiery inferno, like Niki Lauda.”

My heart lurches. “The guy in that Ron Howard movie?”

He exhales a laugh and pulls my head to his lips, giving me a kiss. “Yes, the Ron Howard movie.”

I struggle to push the image out of my head. I can’t even think of Rowan burned beyond recognition. Ava’s up ahead waiting with the pit crew as Rowan coasts in to a stop. He slides out quickly, removing the helmet and giving her a smile. She’s less enthusiastic than when we arrived, and I can’t say I blame her.

“I’m sure your mother’s glad he doesn’t compete anymore,” I whisper.

Cal’s arm moves from around my shoulders to holding my waist, and despite the horrible “what ifs,” I can’t help a smile as I watch Rowan lean back against the car and pull Ava to him, kissing her lips. A deep, accented voice from behind us makes me jump out of Cal’s embrace.

“Yes,” Reggie says, irritation clear in his tone. “Her majesty is very glad he’s not racing anymore. Although, the crown prince seems to have a mind of his own these days.”

“Reggie!” My voice is too high, and I know he knows I know we’re busted. I could die. “What are you doing here?”

Cal’s eyes move from his uncle to me and back again. “Hello, Reg, what are you doing here?” He reaches out and takes my hand again, and Reggie’s eyes move to the connection between us.

I can’t pull my hand away without hurting Cal, but now it’s impossible to hide what’s happening. Ava’s blissfully ignorant of her audience, and when I glance back, she and Rowan are smiling at each other. He leans forward and says something in her ear, and she shakes her head. They’re so clearly new lovers with the way they touch each other, and while I’m dying standing here knowing Reggie’s watching them, deep down, I’m so happy to see her so blissed out.

“I actually came for Zelda,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “I received a call from the executor of your uncle’s estate, and I wonder if you might ride back with me to the hotel so we can discuss what he said.”

“Why didn’t he call me?” I say, trying to escape what’s coming.

He gives me a pointed glare. “Probably because he couldn’t reach you.”

“We were planning to go for dinner, Reg,” Cal interrupts. “Can’t whatever it is wait?”

“Is that so?” he says, still watching my expression.

My heart is beating so fast, it hurts. “Yes,” I say softly. “We were.”

“Then perhaps I can drop her at the restaurant. This shouldn’t take long. Where are you going?”

Cal pauses, and I can tell he’s searching for an argument.

“It’s okay,” I say giving him a confident smile. It is so, so fake. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“The Brasserie at Columbus,” he says, glancing at his uncle. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“We’re right behind you,” Reggie says, taking my arm.

Cal steps forward and kisses my cheek. “See you in a bit.”

“Tell Rowan his race was thrilling.”

He does a little smile, and we part, me headed to face the consequences, him completely ignorant.

We walk quickly through the breezeway under the metal bleachers out to the parking area where Reggie’s town car waits. The driver holds the door as we climb in, and it isn’t until the doors are shut and we’re driving away with the security glass firmly in place that he turns to me.

At first he doesn’t speak, he only studies my expression. I swallow the knot in my throat. I don’t have a leg to stand on, and I know it.

“It appears your sister has won the heart of the crown prince,” he finally says. “While you were off playing with his brother.”

“I tried, Reggie.” My voice is too soft, too weak. “I really did.”

“I set it all up. I gave you multiple opportunities. Then you sneaked away in the night after you twisted your ankle? You were supposed to have breakfast with the future king!”

After I’d just spent the night with his brother. “He wasn’t interested in me.”

“He never had a chance to know.”

With a sigh, I look out the window at the passing trees and flowers. “Can’t we change the plan? Ava’s not a member of the nobility or anything. Can’t she be the one to help you out?”

Reggie’s eyes narrow. “The plan wasn’t for him to fall in love with a beautiful orphaned girl from America. That’s romantic enough to enchant the nation!” His voice rises a bit, and I flinch. “The plan was for him to fall for you, a phony heiress he thinks would secure Monagasco’s economic future. It would show he’s too inexperienced, too shallow to be our leader. He was to be led around by his cock and duped by someone like you!”

My chin drops, and embarrassment burns in my cheeks. Why did I ever agree to this job?

“That’s not Rowan at all. He’s none of those things,” I say quietly. “He’s very serious about his position. Every time we’re together, he’s reading something or taking a phone call. He’s very fit to be king.”

“Even when he’s planning to race the Grand Prix next week?”

“What?” My eyes widen. “Why would he do that? It’s too dangerous!”

“Because despite what you think, Rowan is irresponsible. Apparently, he thinks national security is less important than the pursuit of his hobbies.”

He turns his phone to me. On the screen is the headline, CROWN PRINCE TO RACE IN GRAND PRIX. My jaw drops. I can’t believe what Reggie is saying.

“He wouldn’t…”

“It seems he already has. Even better, he’s done it with the race only days away.”

“How does that change—”

“No one has time to prevent him or talk him out of it.”

I think about what Cal said, all the safety precautions. I can only believe Rowan has weighed the odds and decided it’s safe. I know Rowan… sort of. At least, I’ve been around him, and I’ve talked to him about his country. I still believe in him.

Reggie is frowning at me, and the bigger question is what now? I’m not foolish enough to think Reggie will continue bankrolling our presence here, and I’m also smart enough to know ten thousand dollars will last maybe three days in this pricey little kingdom. I’ve still got to get us home.

“So is it over? You’re done with Ava and me?”

Reggie’s lips press into a line, and he crosses an ankle over his knee. “In a word? No. You two have become unexpectedly useful.”

“How so?” The last thing I want is to be pulled into another plot against Rowan—or Cal.

Now that I’ve seen how close they are, I know anything that hurts Rowan, Cal will take as a personal injury as well. I sort-of love him for that. It’s so much how I feel about Ava. At the same time, that puts me in a very bad place with the man for whom I’ve developed such strong feelings.

“The two of you have both princes by the balls, to use a tacky expression. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and keep me in the loop on the crown prince. As long as you do that, I’ll keep your account filled.”

This new plan makes me feel even slimier than the first. I hate it, and I don’t want to do it. “You’re wrong. I didn’t even know Rowan was going to race the Grand Prix.”

“They have a security breach at Occitan. It’s possible not even his brother knew what he did today.”

“If there’s already a breach, you don’t need me.”

“Au contraire, Miss Wilder. I don’t know the rat. I don’t know who he or she works for. You’ll stay right where you are and answer any questions I have.”

The car pulls to a stop, and glancing out the window, I see we’re at the Brasserie where I’m meeting the other three for dinner.

“Or what?” My voice it a bit sharper than I feel inside, which is really sort of trapped and miserable.

Reggie’s eyes flash in response. “Or I’ll expose you for the lying little cunt you are.”

My stomach plunges, but I swallow back my tears. He couldn’t have been crueler if he’d slapped me across the face. Still, as much as I hate him, as much as he’s a miserable old fuck, he’s right. I lied.

I lied in a big, awful way, and when Cal finds out what I’ve done, my beautiful dream will be over. The most I can hope for now is damage control. I’ve got to find out what this snake is after and do my best to derail his plans.

17

RELEVANCE

Rowan

AS WE WAIT for a table at the Brasserie, Cal is distracted watching for Zelda to appear. I want to be empathetic, but I can’t really think about anything but Ava.

When she ran up to the car this afternoon on the track, I felt for the first time like I had everything I wanted. The American conglomerate I’ve been working with emailed me this morning to give us the green light. We’ll start building clean-energy electric storage facilities by fall—funneling both a new stream of revenue and a new source of jobs into the nation.

Standing on the track, I had my new deal, my favorite pastime, and my beautiful girl all together. The only thing remaining is announcing my decision from this morning.

With the economic pressure leveling off, I want to celebrate. Reaching for Ava, I pull her against my chest at the bar as we wait for Zee to join us. She lifts the enormous hat off her head and smooths her hair back, smiling up at me. I can only smile back. I don’t give a shit if I’m wrapped around her delicate little finger.

“I want to take you back to Occitan and spend the rest of the day at the beach.” I don’t mention clothing optional.

“I would love that. I didn’t get to see it the other night.” Her green eyes sparkle, and my hold on her waist tightens. She turns to my brother. “Cal, where is Zee?”

My brother is distracted as he answers her. “She caught a ride with Reggie. Something about needing to discuss her uncle’s estate.”

Ava stiffens in my arms. “She what?”

Her voice is worried, and I can’t help wondering why she’s disturbed by Zelda’s being with Reggie. Personally, I’m still mildly furious at my uncle’s return. My mother tries to smooth it over, reminding me how I grew up with him and how at one point in time, my father trusted him.

She doesn’t know the conspiracy I overheard all those years ago. I don’t have proof of Reggie’s involvement, but I’m keeping him in my sights. The only thing holding me back from kicking him out again is the fact he brought Ava to me. She gives me the ability to tolerate his presence.

“Hmm,” Cal’s brow lowers, and he’s looking at his damn phone again. “That’s getting it in under the wire.”

“I swear, MacCallam, if you could detach from social media for five minutes—”

“You wouldn’t know what the hell you were up to,” he finishes, turning the oversized titanium phone to me. “I guess this means I’m captain of your pit crew.”

CROWN PRINCE TO RACE IN GRAND PRIX is blasted big as the screen. Ava does a little gasp. My jaw tightens and fury burns in my chest. “How the fuck did they get that already?”

Ava’s voice is soft in my ear, and I don’t miss the tremor there. “I thought you couldn’t race anymore?”

I made the decision this morning in the high of learning our tech deal had gone through. The entry forms come every year like clockwork, and for the last six years, I’ve simply thrown them away. Not this year. I held them until today, the absolute last day to throw my hat in the ring.

“I only decided this morning.”

The muscle in my brother’s jaw moves. “We’ve got to find that fucking rat at Occitan. In the meantime, are you serious about this?”

“I was this morning. Obviously, I haven’t discussed it with anyone.”

“But you returned the forms.”

“I want a place in qualifications.”

Cal laughs and braces my shoulder. “Mother is going to have a shit fit, and I can’t wait. You’re bound to win it this time.”

“We’ll see.” I’m smiling, though. He’s right, and it is so good. “I’ve clocked my best times these last two practice sessions.”

“I was there.” His response boosts my mood. I’m lucky to have him on my team.

When I look back at Ava, she’s watching me, her green eyes round with worry. I pull her close and give her a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll be okay.”

My hand slides over the curve of her ass to her lower back, and I lean forward to kiss her lips briefly. Cal’s ordering champagne, and I notice a throat clearing somewhat obviously behind us.

Glancing up, I meet olive drab. “Felicity!” Stepping forward, I shake her hand firmly. “Good to see you, old chap!”

“Rowan!” She laughs loudly, moving her eyes and head over her shoulder. “You do always have the queerist greetings.”

Frowning, I look behind her to see, of all people, Lara Westingroot. Straightening, I move Ava to the side from where she was pretty much sitting on my lap. I’m not hiding her—I still hold her hand, lacing our fingers. I’m only more formal now.

“Miss Westingroot, how are you?” I do a slight nod.

“Rowan.” Lara moves in too close and touches my hand. “You should know we don’t have to be so formal now.”

My shoulders tense as Ava leaves me to stand beside Cal at the bar. Shit.

“Are you in good health?” I ask.

Lara laughs and blinks up at me. Is she attempting to flirt? “As good as can be expected with this latest news.”

“Damn tabloids,” I grumble. “I hadn’t told anyone when they smeared it all over the Internet.”

“At least she’s very beautiful.” Lara glances at Ava in an obviously appraising manner. “For a commoner, of course. But honestly, another American? Surely you could find a conquest from among our own ranks.”

For a moment, I’m confused. “I’m sorry, I thought you were talking about the race.”

“I’m talking about this person you’ve taken up with as of late.” Criticism is in her tone, and it sets my jaw. Miss Westingroot will not appraise my behavior if she knows whats best for her.

“I enjoy Ava’s company. She’s fresh and interesting.”

“Fresh and interesting? What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, I study this beautiful ice queen’s face, and all the reasons my fifteen year-old infatuation didn’t survive into maturity are clear. Lara and I have never spoken the same language.

“If we’re going to stay relevant, we need to meet people outside our insulated group.”

“Stay relevant?” Her mocking laugh irritates me. “We’re relevant because of who we are, Rowan. We are Monagasco. Our country has existed for eight hundred years! We’re legendary.”

“I haven’t existed for eight hundred years. It’s important for our leaders to keep up with the times. Can you not understand that?”

She rolls her eyes and does a little wave. “You have always had peculiar notions, Rowan. It’s because you read too much.”

“Is that so?” I might have had too much wine when I let her go down on me before, but I won’t be duplicating that mistake.

“Stick with what works.” She glances to where Cal is making some joke, doing his best to distract Ava. “Shall I expect you to call me about the gala?”

“I’m pretty confident I already have an escort.”

That earns me a glare. “Then I suppose I should take my leave. Good afternoon, Rowan. Enjoy your dinner.”

Lara strides away, but Felicity lingers a moment longer. “She’s furious. Nice work.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

Felicity does a little wave in Cal’s direction. “Is this for show or are you being serious?”

Her blunt style relaxes me. “I hope it becomes very serious.”

“But she’s not wealthy or connected,” Felicity’s thin lips grow even thinner as she presses them down. “And now you’re racing again.”

“What of it?” I’m curious as to what she might say.

She only holds up both hands. “I’m on your side. It’s the old guard you have to appease. They’re only happy making us young ones suffer through the same rules and regulations that made them miserable when they were our age.”

“I’m not interested in appeasing anyone.” It’s not entirely true, considering how hard I’ve been working to make peace since Hummergate.

“Clearly,” Felicity laughs. “So… Need another member for your pit crew?”

“Have you ever been on a pit crew?”

“No.” Her smile fades, and I shake my head.

“It’s a brutal course. I’ll need an experienced team.”

“You’re right.” Felicity nods, and for a moment, we’re quiet.

It gives me a second to remember that night at the ball and how she rescued me from the barrage of single females of a certain age. I do owe her one.

“Tell you what. I’ll get you a pass so you can come down, hang with the guys, watch the race up close.”

Her eyes light. “Thanks! You’re amazing!” She does a little clap. “And I’ll look out for your new lady. Lord knows she’ll need a buffer in this crowd.”

“You’re a sport.” I pat her shoulder and take a step toward the bar.

“I’m betting on you, Rowan Westringham Tate,” she calls. “Don’t get killed.”

“I don’t intend to.”

With a little salute, she’s gone, and I continue to where Ava stands with Cal. He hands her a whiskey sour, and her expression isn’t as sunny as before. She’s not smiling, and I want to take her away from here where I can reassure her she’s the only female I want in my bed.

“Are we still waiting on Zelda?” I look to my brother.

“She just texted she’s almost here.” Cal slips his phone in his pocket, and I understand his reason for checking it so often now.

I’ve never seen Cal worry this much about the whereabouts of a female. It’s a nice change for him, and I’d give him a little good-natured teasing. Only I notice how quiet Ava is being.

I place my hand on her arm, and when she glances up, my chest tightens. “We’re going to rain-check dinner,” I tell Cal. “I’m taking Ava back to Occitan.”

A loud shuffling noise draws all our attention. Two men are struggling in the hedge, both holding cameras with telephoto lenses.

Cal’s voice is low and urgent. “You’d better go now.”

Ava places her glass on the bar and takes my arm as we make a quick escape through the small restaurant. We’re in the car as more photographers flood into the public space. Hajib closes the door with a solid slam, and we’re off.

Leaning forward in the seat, I place my forearms on my thighs frustrated by my inability to control the flow of information about me.

“It’s too bad,” Ava says with a little sigh. “I wanted to try that place.”

This is not what I expected or want to hear. “Are you sorry we’re leaving?”

She reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m not sorry to be with you or to be away from those reporters. You joining the race must be big news.”

I cover her slim hand with both of mine and lean back so I can meet her eyes. I remember how afraid she looked when Cal dropped the bomb. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the race.”

Shaking her head, she lets out a sad little laugh. “You don’t have to tell me about anything you do. Our time together is lovely, but I know my place. This isn’t forever.”

Those words twist my stomach. I study her small hand in mine, thinking about my conversation with Lara. I think about everything happening now, all the good things, and how my lack of freedom might change as a result. Before the deal, I had to keep in mind the future, our political situation, and economic growth. With the deal I’ve hammered out, two of these issues are somewhat resolved.

“I was only thinking…” she hesitates, drawing my full attention. “Cal said competitive racing is so dangerous. He said you shouldn’t do it because you’re the future king.”

It’s a fair assessment, and the reason I’ve held back up to now. “The race is on a slow track. It’s almost impossible to pass other cars, which is how most of the wrecks occur.”

“What happens if you do crash?”

“Are you worried?”

Her pretty lips press together, and her gaze flickers to her lap. “Yes, I am. Very much.”

Warmth spreads through my stomach, making me smile. Now we’re back to where I want us to be. “Then you’ll have to give me something for luck.”

She blinks a few times before looking up again. She seems to be thinking of something, and with a little nod, she smiles. “I have something.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

We’re at the country house, exiting the vehicle, and I look up at the clear sky. It’s warm and inviting, and I intend for us to have an easy time, a late dinner, a swim, and then a seductive night. Mother is still in Marins, giving us the place to ourselves. Taking her hand, I lead Ava up the long, white steps, but when we get to the top, I follow the wrap-around porch to the back where we have a clear view of the calm waters of our little cove.

“It’s so beautiful!” she sighs.

Looking out at the sapphire blue water, I pull her against my chest, sliding my hands up the soft fabric of her dress. Her palms rest on my shirtfront, and I lean forward to kiss her cheek, moving to her ear.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

A shiver moves through her, and it registers straight to my cock. “I don’t have a swimsuit,” she replies in a sultry tone.

“Even better.” Heat is in my voice.

Our eyes meet, and hers are darker. I slide my hands to her cheeks, holding her face as my jaw tightens. “Cal thinks we have a mole on the estate taking pictures. Possibly someone on staff.”

Her hands slide up to cup my cheeks, mirroring my gesture. “Then we’ll have to be discreet.” She rises on tiptoe and kisses me quickly, catching my lip between her teeth.

My semi goes to full hard-on at once, but she twirls out of my arms. “Meet you at the beach!”

She runs down the narrow boardwalk to the pier, laughing and waving for me to follow her. I stand for a moment watching, thinking how calm and satisfied I feel right now. This is how it should be.

Once Ava reaches the shoreline, her white dress flies over her head in a swift movement. Her long, tanned body disappears in the blue waves, and I’m right behind her, covering the distance in record time.

18

SEARCHING

Zelda

WHEN I ARRIVE at the Brasserie, I only find Cal inside. He’s at the bar, standing beside a vacant barstool with a gin and tonic waiting. I can’t begin to tell him how much I appreciate it. At the same time, the closer I get, the worse I ache. Was it only last night we were so happy together, laughing and watching movies in the Paris Hotel?

“Hello, beautiful.” Cal kisses my cheek as I climb onto the barstool.

“Thanks for this.” I lift the skinny glass and take a sip. “You knew just what I needed.”

“I aim to please,” he grins, placing a hand on my waist. “You just missed Ro and Ava. I won’t lie to you, I’m pretty sure the crown prince is in deep smit.”

That helps me smile. “I’ve never seen Ava so happy. It’s like a fairytale.”

“There you go again with the fairytales. I warned you about those.” My stomach sinks, but he can’t possibly begin to know how true his statement is.

I fight it off. “Still, I’m happy to see them both so happy.”

“It is rather inspiring, isn’t it? Give you any ideas? Sudden cravings?” He leans in and gives me a little eyebrow twitch. As usual, my stomach flips.

Bad feelings aside, I love sitting here with him, exchanging sexual innuendo. He’s so casual in his jeans and light sweater. His brown hair is messy from the wind on the track, and his hazel eyes glow. I know from experience under that blue sweater are the lines and muscles that make me swoon. I almost wish we could blow off dinner as well.

“I’m sorry the ambience isn’t what it used to be here,” he says, misinterpreting my quiet observation. “We should’ve gone to the Buddha bar.”

“The Buddha bar! What’s that?”

“Sushi, Chinese, and Thai food.”

“Mm, I love Thai food!”

His eyes darken, and he steps forward, pulling me against his chest. “I like the full-body orgasm you had saying that.”

Reaching up, I pinch his side. “I did not.” Feeling naughty, I add, “If I had an orgasm it was looking at you.”

He releases me and shakes his head. “Shit, I’m not hungry anymore.” With a wink, he adds, “At least not for food.”

I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. How is it possible this man erases all the heaviness I feel?

“We need to eat. We have to keep our strength up for all that fucking.”

He laughs more. “Dammit, Zee. You’re killing me.”

My eyes narrow, and he takes another sip of champagne. Taking the menu, I scan the unusual selection—Mediterranean with Asian accents?

“What did my uncle want?” Cal says, and just like that, my happiness bursts like a bubble. He sees the change, and concern fills his voice. “Is something wrong?”

My conversation in the limo, my reason for being here, all of it races back to the forefront of my mind. So many secrets I’m keeping from him, so many lies. How could I ever tell him the truth and expect him to understand? Reggie’s voice is in my head, I’ll expose you for the lying little cunt you are… God, that stings so much.

Finally, I answer him the only way I know how. “I have to leave soon.”

Silence fills the space between us like a sudden rainstorm, extinguishing our banter. The noise of the restaurant seems to grow louder, and when I look up, I see Cal’s expression has darkened.

“Why?” He moves closer. “I thought you liked it here.”

His presence is so soothing, but it’s time for reality. I have to let him go. A flash of pain tightens my chest.

“I’m not as free as I’d hoped,” I say quietly.

Our eyes don’t meet. I watch as Cal traces his finger through the condensation on my glass. “Do you have a departure date?”

I shake my head. “Reggie’s working out the details. It will probably be in the next few days. Maybe a week.”

Unable to stop myself, I look up for his warm hazel eyes. My sadness is reflected back at me, and I want to step forward into his arms, hold onto him—as if I have the right to keep him.

“Do you think you can stick around for the race?” he asks “It’s only a few days away.”

“I don’t know.” I don’t know what’s coming next.

“You can definitely stay for the gala. It’s tomorrow night, and I need a date.”

“I’m sure you can find a date.”

A hint of that smile plays around his lips. “Of course, I can find a date, but I want to go with you.”

This time I do move forward into his arms. They tighten around me at once, and my cheek is pressed against his chest. He holds me, and I inhale deeply the spicy-citrusy scent of his clothes. It takes me back to the first night when he loaned me his shirt, which I never plan to return. Ever. The thought of letting him go forms an aching hole in my chest.

His hand moves up, sliding over the back of my neck. His fingers thread in my hair. “Maybe I’ll visit you in Texas. It’s close to Vegas, right?”

That makes me laugh, and I pull back to meet his eyes. “Compared to what? Here?”

“I think I’d like Vegas.”

“I’m sure you would. It’s perfect for playboys.”

The hostess comes to lead us to our table. Cal gives me a tight smile and steps back, catching my hand and threading our fingers. I study his perfect ass in those jeans as we walk, and my mind is frantic trying to think of something, anything I can do to change my situation. I’m so far out of my league in this place. I have been since the first night I attended that charity ball.

Our table is outdoors on a small patio overlooking the sea. Only a few other diners share the space, and a blonde waitress quickly appears.

“I’ll have the burger and chips,” Cal says, handing her the oversized menu.

“To drink, Monsieur?”

“What are you having?” Cal asks me.

“I’ll try the sushi.”

“Good choice.” He glances up at the waitress. “Vinho Verde.”

She nods and takes down my order before disappearing into the restaurant.

“Green wine?” I say, taking a sip of my water.

“Look at you! Picking up the language.” He smiles, and gives me a wink. “It’s not actually green, but it is effervescent. I think you’ll like it.”

“So it’s like champagne?”

“Hm,” he looks out over the sea. “It’s lighter. Better for summer.”

Our waiter returns with two white wine glasses, and a tall, skinny bottle. She serves us both, and places the bottle in an ice bucket.

Cal holds his glass out to me. “To memorable days.”

I give him a little clink and take a sip. It’s crisp with mineral notes, and the fizz is so delicate. “It tastes like a day at the beach.”

“Which is what we should be doing right now. Rowan has the right idea.”

“Right.” I’ve been so distracted since the car ride. “Where did Rowan and Ava go?”

“Paparazzi showed up. They’ll hound him until the race, I’m sure. Anyway, they took off for Occitan just before you arrived.”

I have to remember to act surprised about the race, even though Reggie told me about it in the car. “What race?”

“Apparently my older brother signed up for the Grand Prix this morning. I do hope you stick around for it. I’d like you to see it.”

Taking another sip of my wine, I think about all of it—time, Reggie, the race. “Remember how you told me Rowan kicked your uncle out of the kingdom?”

“He tried, anyway. Guess who’s back?”

“He came with us,” I say, thinking as the server places an artistically arranged platter of sushi in front of me.

“Nigiri, shrimp tempura, tuna…” he points out the different items on my plate, and I smile up at him in thanks.

Cal grabs a knife and cuts his burger. I lift the chopsticks and hope I remember how to use them. It’s been years since Seth showed me how. Thinking that name makes my old life feel so far away. I can’t imagine going back to it and ever feeling the same. Come on, Zelda, you’re smarter than this! You’ve out-conned Reggie once before; you can do it again.

“You said Rowan didn’t tell you exactly what made him do it… Did he at least give you the gist?” Anything I can use? I don’t say.

Cal leans back in his chair, chewing a bite of burger watching me. I mix a pinch of Wasabi into the small pool of soy sauce and go for a rich, pink slice of tuna. Holding my breath, I position the sticks in my hand and pick it up. Balance… it manages to ride from the sauce to my mouth without falling in my lap. The fresh flavor of good fish fills my mouth.

“Good work.” He grins. “I saw you sweating that bite.”

“I wasn’t sweating! It’s just been a while…”

He shakes his head and picks up a French fry. “Let me think… it was something about Hubert and forming an alliance with Twatrington that would essentially unite the two countries under a new government.”

“Can he do that?” My brow lines, and I look up at Cal still watching me.

He does a little shrug. “With a majority of votes he could. The economy was bad. Hubert was head of the Parliament at the time, and while the king is the titular leader, he doesn’t have total control.”

“It’s not a true monarchy?” I actually sound like I know what I’m talking about.

He takes another bite. “Constitutional.”

I go for the pink and green shrimp roll. It’s covered in a layer of rice with salty seaweed on top.

“Could something like that still work today?”

Cal’s eyes narrow, and he lifts his wine glass, taking a sip. “If Hubert were still in power it’s conceivable. Still, he’d have to change Rowan’s mind about such a unification, and my brother would die before he’d sell out Monagasco.”

Distracted, I stare at my colorful plate. My mind is desperate for a solution. Is it possible Reggie’s found a way around these obstacles—or he’s working on one?

“Is that why you rode with him today?” Cal’s voice has changed. It sounds harder. “Are you in league with my uncle to overthrow the government?”

My eyes fly to his. He’s watching me closely, and my forehead tightens. What would he say if I told him that’s exactly what brought me to his country? I was in league with Reggie to prevent Rowan being crowned king, thereby assuring his enemies control of the government.

Oh god. My insides die.

“What?” I manage a laugh, but it sounds off, even to me. “Why would you say something so crazy?”

Cal’s eyebrows lower, and for the first time since I’ve known him, a fierce light enters his eyes. MacCallam Lockwood Tate is an ass-kicker.

“You’re asking a strange line of questions, Zee. What’s this about?”

Sitting up straight, I place the chopsticks on the side of my plate, forcing my practiced brain to calm. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a tough situation. Poker face returned, I find a believable cover story.

“I was only thinking… if I leave, your uncle will be kicked out again.” Reaching for my glass, I take a slow sip of wine, careful to keep my hands from trembling. Focus on the story. “He doesn’t want to leave his home. I guess I was trying to help him find a way to stay. If whatever he was trying to do before is impossible now, then Rowan can allow him to come back. Right?”

Cal’s muscles visibly relax. He gives me a half-smile as he returns to how we’ve always been with each other. I let out a controlled breath. That was too fucking close. I can’t let Cal figure out why I’m really here before I have something to make up for what I’ve done. I’ve got to find my gift of atonement before he ever uncovers the truth about Ava and me, or he’ll never forgive me.

It’s a long shot he’ll forgive me, period, but I can’t think that way. I can’t let him go without a fight.

“I don’t know if Rowan will ever forgive our uncle for what he did.” His voice is quiet, controlled. “If Reggie wants to stay in Monagasco, you should let him work it out on his own.”

“You’re right,” I say, happy to move away from the subject. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

He does a little wave. “I’ll sign the bill, and we can head back to the estate. There are still a few hours of sunlight left.”

Our eyes meet, and I reach across to hold his hand briefly. “I’m sorry if I spoiled our dinner with all my questions.”

“You can make it up to my by going to the gala tomorrow night.”

He turns his hand over so our palms touch, our fingers lace. It’s so warm and perfect. All I can think about is our bodies meeting in the same way and how good it always feels.

“I’ll go.” I can’t tell him no, and I will do everything in my power to make this right. After that, I know what I have to do.

Rowan

Ava is in my arms, her soft breasts flat against my chest. Her slim arms are around my neck, and her eyes close as I rock into her. Her dark hair swirls around us in the water like a cape. She’s so beautiful, and my cock is deep between her thighs. I can only let go as waves of pleasure roll over us.

With every thrust of my hips, her inner muscles clench, and she exhales a soft moan. I’m so close to finishing, my balls ache. A tilt of her chin, and our mouths unite, tongues sliding together. She tastes like the strawberries I fed her along with our champagne, and she feels like fucking heaven—hot, clenching, dick-massaging heaven.

“Rowan,” she whispers softly. “Please.”

“Please?” I take another hit off her luscious lips.

“Move me,” she sighs, and I slide my hands down to her ass, gripping it and pulling her harder against my hips, scrubbing her clit against my body.

I’m rewarded with a renewed eruption of clenching muscles around my shaft, and I have to grind my teeth to keep from coming. I continue moving her, harder, faster until her thighs flex at my waist. Her nails grip into the skin of my shoulder, and I’m no longer setting the pace. She’s riding me, getting off on my cock. It’s so damn good, I can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck, Ava,” I groan, holding her upper back, trying to keep myself anchored on this planet with only her for support.

My dick pulses again and again, filling her, and she’s riding, trembling until she breaks. I feel her entire body tense, and a low moan cracks with her voice.

“Yes,” she gasps, bucking against my hips. “That’s it.”

She’s smiling, but her eyes are still closed. Her arms are tight around my neck, and her body moves slower, coming down as a beautiful flush spreads across her breasts.

“Look at me,” I say, catching her chin as I give the low command.

“Hm,” she smiles, blinking those beautiful eyes open.

I can’t help it, I kiss her again, pulling her tongue into my mouth. Devouring her sweetness, causing her to moan again, another little spasm around my dick. Pulling back, I give her lip a teasing nibble, and she sighs.

“So good,” she says, leaning her head against her arms, which are still tight around my neck.

My thoughts move to what we’ve done several times over the last few days. Her body is fantastic, and I’ve become somewhat obsessed with her. I haven’t been as careful as I normally would.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more vigilant about protection.”

Her brow lines, and her head rises. “I hadn’t really thought about it either. But you don’t have to worry. Technically, you’re my first real lover.”

I touch her chin and the warmth in my chest could only be tempered by my determination to avenge her past.

“You don’t have to explain. I trust you.” Or, more accurately, I’m so fucking horny for this woman, I’ve become completely reckless.

I think about the other possibility of what we’ve done, and strangely it doesn’t bother me. An unexpected wave of satisfaction fills me at the idea of Ava’s belly round with my child.

“I’m on the pill,” she adds, killing that fantasy.

It’s a good thing. I need to get my head straight about this woman. We’ve only known each other a short time. As future king, I have to be more deliberate and responsible about my decisions.

Still, Ava is something special. I love every conversation we’ve had. I love how well our bodies work together, and I can’t forget my feelings on the track today seeing her walking out to greet me.

“You don’t have to worry.” I hold her a little closer to my chest. “I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

Those last words, added as an afterthought, cause me to remember my lonely existence before this beautiful creature appeared. I didn’t even realize what I was missing.

“Why were you alone?” Her voice is soft, and her legs are loose around my waist.

We’re floating in the pleasant water, luxuriating in the calm of afterglow.

I think about her question. “I don’t know exactly. My father died, and I felt I had to focus on getting up to speed, proving I was ready to take his place.”

“Does running the country mean you can’t have a girlfriend?”

“No.” I smile and touch her beautiful face. “It just means people always want something. Everyone has an agenda. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

She leans her cheek into my hand. “I tried to stay away from you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s what made me want you more.”

“Is it?”

“No.” I can’t lie to her now. “That night in the moonlight, when you were alone, watching the waves and quoting Robert Frost. It was exactly what I was doing in my mind. Looking at the waves and wishing I could run away.”

Her expression changes, and she places her slim fingers along my jawline. “We both want freedom? Shouldn’t you already have it?”

My arms tighten around her. “I’m pretty sure I know what I want.”

“Me too.”

Our eyes mix and mingle, emerald green and ocean blue. I can’t help feeling we were meant to find each other. Our paths were destined to cross. Passionate preference, such as love at first sight…

She kisses me roughly, holding her body to mine as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “I always want to remember this,” she says.

I’ll never forget it.

“Go with me to the gala tomorrow. It’s the kickoff to all the race events. After it, I’ll be slammed with time trials and practice runs. I’ll have to keep things going with the cabinet. I’m afraid for a few days, I won’t be able to see you like this.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “I would love to go with you.”

“We might be hounded by photographers. I hope you don’t mind having your photograph plastered all over the damn place.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t really notice them anymore when we’re together.”

Sliding my fingers along her hairline, I think about my decisions, about what my mother wants, about what’s good for the country. I think about Ava being here on a holiday, the possibility that her visit will end and she’ll leave. A hollow feeling burns in my stomach.

“After the race, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

She smiles. “You could talk to me now. I’m here.”

Turning her body, I pull her back to my chest and wrap my arms around her waist. My chin is on her shoulder, and I look out at the horizon. I think about the future and what I want.

“After the race,” I say.

Her fingers thread with mine, and I know what I want. I know for the first time, and I feel complete.

19

COMPLICATIONS

Zelda

IT’S after ten when Ava and I return to our suite at the Fontaine. It’s been several days since we slept in our own beds alone, but I’m thankful for the break and the chance to strategize. She’s worried.

“What happened today, Zee? What is Reggie going to do?”

I go quickly to the television and turn it on, but it’s no help. The local news is in French. I recognize locations. Many streets will begin closing tomorrow to prepare for the race. The gala is tomorrow night, and locals will be out to watch the racers and the nobility and to cheer for their favorites.

Walking quickly to the door, I pick up the newspaper still rolled from this morning. Again, I can’t read it.

“If only I’d learned French,” I say through an exasperated exhale.

“What are you thinking?” Ava’s right with me, following me through the room.

I walk back to the sofa and drop into the cushions, thinking.

“Oh! I wish you’d tell me something!” Ava’s shouting now, and I look up at her. Her dark hair is in beachy waves, and she’s still in that white dress from earlier at the track.

“What did you say?” I confess, I’ve been too distracted to listen.

“What happened today? What did Reggie say? What are you planning to do?!”

Holding out my hand, I reach for her to sit beside me on the sofa. “It’s not good.” I feel her tense, and I know this is hard for her to hear.

“Reggie was at the track today. He knows you and Rowan are seeing each other. He probably knew before—hell, it’s probably why he even showed up today. To bust us.”

“What’s he going to do?” Her voice wavers, and I know she’s feeling that same sickening fear I felt earlier at the thought of Cal finding out what I’d done. Only her fears are for Rowan.

“He wants us to keep him posted about the prince. He wants to know what he’s doing, where he’s going, then he’ll allow us to stay here.”

“But I never know what he’s doing or where he’s going. He doesn’t tell me those things!” I can see the panic in her eyes, and I want to soothe her.

At the same time, I know how swift Rowan’s judgment can be. She’s right to be afraid.

“It’s going to be okay, Ava-bug. Do you trust me?” I expect her to say yes like she always does, like we’ve always been in the past.

Instead she says one word, “How?”

Pushing off the couch, I start to pace. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, Jesus!” She leans forward pushing her face in her hands. “He’s going to hate me. He’ll never look at me again! And after everything we’ve said… Everything we’ve done!”

That does it. I rush to kneel in front of her, pulling her hands into mine. “Look at me! I’m not going to let that happen. I’ve seen Rowan with you. He’s in love with you. He’ll give you the kind of life you deserve.”

Her eyes go round. “He’s not in love with me. We’ve never said—”

“Feelings like that don’t have to be said. They’re apparent for everyone with eyes to see them. He cares about you, and I won’t let my mistake spoil that for you. If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s you.”

“But what about you? What about Cal?” She’s blinking fast. “I’ve never seen you so happy. Not ever! It’s the first time you haven’t always been planning and calculating and looking for the next job. It’s the first time you’ve smiled!”

Standing, I force myself to calm. This isn’t about me. “We’ve had money, Ava. Money is why I’m smiling.”

“That’s bullshit!” she shouts, and I feel my jaw hit the floor.

“Ava!” I’ve never heard her lose it this way.

“I’m not going to let you sit here and say these things. You’re happy here. It’s not just me!”

“You’d have to be an idiot not to be happy here! Of course I’m happy here, but that’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

Clearing my throat, I walk over to the wet bar for a bottle of water. “The point is I took this job. I sat on that boat and shook hands with the devil. You’re here because I never leave you behind.”

She’s listening, but her dark brows are pulled together. She’s looking for any chance to argue with me on this, but I won’t let her. I twist the top off the water bottle and take a sip, calming my thoughts as well as my voice.

“I’m going to find out what Reggie’s up to,” I continue. “I’m going to see if there’s any way to redeem what I’ve done. There probably isn’t. I’m going to have to be the villain in this story.”

“You’re not!” Her voice breaks, and unshed tears are in her eyes.

“I am, Ava-bug. I agreed to come here and lie to Rowan. I didn’t expect to meet Cal, but I definitely came here intending to hurt Rowan.”

She’s off the sofa now, crossing the room to stand in front of me. “From the start, we said we would stop it, we’d walk away if we found out Reggie was tricking us. We can just walk away!”

“Yes, but walking away means walking all the way away—all the way back to Florida.” Her chin drops, and I know her heart is breaking. My heart is breaking for both of us. “I’ll walk away,” I say. “I’m doing my best to find any way for you to stay.”

Her face snaps up, and again her forehead is lined. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to figure out what Reggie wants. I’m convinced he’s here to finish what he started when Rowan kicked him out…”

“And?”

“And if I can beat him to it, whatever it is—if I can warn Cal or Rowan, maybe they’ll feel… A little less like punishing and more like forgiving.”

Her breathing picks up, and I can see that tiny glimmer of hope growing in her eyes. She’ll always trust me, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

“Then we can stay?” she whispers.

“I hope so.” I nod as I start to pace again, thinking. “I hope Rowan will believe me when I tell him you had nothing to do with this scheme. You were only here because I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

“I’m sure he will—he’ll forgive you. Rowan is really kind and gentle.”

Glancing up at her, I can’t help a skeptical grin. “Rowan is not kind and gentle. He’s powerful and tough, and from what I’ve heard, he’s pretty ruthless when it comes to handling people who cross him.”

She frowns as if I’m describing someone she doesn’t know. “He’s focused, and he takes his position very seriously, but he’s not ruthless.”

Walking back to her, I put an arm around her shoulders. “That right there is why I’m doing this. If that man is so sweet to you that you don’t even notice what a badass he is, I’m going to find a way for you to stay together. I promise I will.”

Her shoulders fall, and she lets out a slow exhale. “I can’t argue with you anymore. I’m too tired.”

I laugh and give her side a little poke. “Somebody’s been having sex all evening.”

“Shut up. I’m going to take a shower.”

“No more gushing about having sex with a king?”

“Goodnight, Zelda!” she calls waving over her shoulder at me.

“That’s a switch!” I call after her. My phone buzzes on the counter, and I laugh as I walk over to pick it up.

Wish you were here. No one to criticize the horrifying movie choices I’m making.

“MacCallam Lockwood Tate,” I whisper, unable to stop a smile.

What are you watching? I text back.

Come back and I’ll show you.

Have work to do. Tell me.

Work? You’re on a holiday.

Chewing my lip, I decide to give him a little insight into my plans. Trying to find a way to stay longer.

In that case, I’ll survive my poor entertainment choices.

Smiling, I walk over to sit on the sofa. Resting my head on my hand, I wipe the stubborn tear from my eye and force myself to have hope. Touching the screen quickly, I text, What have you chosen this time?

You’ve Got Mail.

Grow a dick, MacCallam.

I love it when you use my full name.

Snorting a laugh, I roll my eyes. You’re not watching that.

Come make me turn it off.

Not tonight.

A few seconds tick by, and I look over at the television. Picking up the remote, I change the channel until stupid Meg Ryan appears. This movie is so dumb, I text.

Gotcha. What are you wearing?

Slanting my eyes, I think of our first night. Changing clothes.

Send me a tit pic.

No!

Smart girl. I’d make that shit my wallpaper.

Still no Prince Charming, I reply.

It’s Playboy Prince, sugar tits.

I laugh again, rolling my eyes. Goodnight, MacCallam.

Goodnight, beautiful.

With a sigh, I push off the couch, switch off the television, and walk slowly to my bedroom. I consider calling Reggie, but I have no idea what to say. It’s not like I can ask him straight out what he’s got up his sleeve. Instead, I pull up our last text exchange searching for any clues. It’s only questions about how it’s going with Rowan, or “CPR,” and me.

“I’ve got to get something on him. I’ve just got to,” I whisper, plugging my phone into its charger and walking into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

OUR PICKUP TIME for the ball is an early six thirty, but Cal says it’s because the spectators like to cheer and watch as the racers board the yacht.

“It’s going to be on a yacht!” I call to Ava as I stand by the wet bar waiting.

I’m having a glass of champagne, careful not to spill it on my filmy red designer gown. It’s knee length, and the halter-top shows off my shoulders. It also has a large, upside-down triangle cutout ending at my lower back. I seem to recall Cal liking such details, and I confess, I like his hands on my skin.

True to his word, Reggie is keeping us bankrolled. I can only suppose that means we’re still “useful” to him. I feel like a shit taking his money, but it’s the only way I can continue working on my own agenda. We have to look the part, and at least I haven’t been able to tell him anything he doesn’t already know about the guys.

“Will it set sail?” Ava walks out in a strapless beige dress. It’s knee-length, and the scalloped top just covers her breasts. Her hair is styled over her shoulder so that one long lock ripples down, the bottom just curling where her nipple is hidden.

“Damn. Ro is going to tent his trousers when he sees you in that.”

She laughs, her cheeks flaming, and I give her a hug. “You look beautiful.”

“What about you? I love that dress! The color is gorgeous, and the back is a total tease.”

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out. “It’s show time.”

Rowan sent a decoy limo to the front of our hotel so we can escape through the kitchen entrance. The manager escorts us to the door, where outside Cal is leaning against the actual limo.

“Sorry for the alley pickup…” His words drift away when our eyes meet, and that little fish is alive and well in my stomach, flipping all over the place. “You look incredible.”

I push a lock of pale blonde behind my ear doing my best not to blush as hard as Ava. “Yet another reason I needed to be here last night,” I say in a tone that’s far more carefree than I feel. “We had to shop today, get our hair done.”

He catches my forearms and leans down to kiss my cheek. “The entire miserable night was worth it for this.” Warm hazel darkens, and I’m squealing on the inside.

Ava walks up behind us. “Where’s Rowan?”

“He thought it would cause less of a problem if he met us at the pier.” She makes a little sad noise, and he tears his eyes from mine. “Oh, wow! He probably should have come with me. That dress will definitely provoke a response.”

“That’s just what I said!” Moving to his side, I slip my hand in the crook of Cal’s arm.

“I’m sure the crown prince knows how to conduct himself in public,” Ava says, but I don’t miss her smug tone.

“When the two of you go missing, we’ll know to search the bedrooms,” Cal teases.

“No way!” I cry. “If the boat’s a-rockin, don’t come a-knockin!”

Cal slides a hand over my lower back, hitting me with a cascade of chills. “Mm, if we go missing…” he rumbles in my ear.

“Come on,” Ava climbs into the limo with the help of Hajib.

It’s only a short drive to the dock. We’re pulling into the parking area and stepping out to meet Rowan in no time. As predicted, his eyes fix on Ava’s, and I see the muscle in his jaw move when she crosses the space to him.

“You’re beautiful,” I hear him say in a low voice, and her skin flushes a pretty color.

His large hand takes hers, lifting it to his lips, and her eyes gleam as she watches him. Protecting her future, knowing how perfectly safe and happy she would be here with him dominates my thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” Cal’s voice is low beside my cheek, and he places his hand around my waist.

Turning my head just slightly, I don’t take my eyes off them as they walk the short distance to the gangplank. Cheers and shouts come from the crowd, flashes go off in a strobe of white, and Rowan waves discreetly, smiling to his subjects. He holds Ava’s hand tightly in his, and she follows, watching him and smiling.

“She’s so happy,” I whisper.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. She’s found a tall, dark, and handsome prince to carry her away to her happily ever after.

“You’re such a good friend,” Cal says, and just like that, I’m pulled from my fairytale and back to our lies.

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat, hating this so much.

“I hope you’re so happy.”

You have no idea how happy, I think, with a sad little exhale. His hazel eyes have a rare earnestness as he lifts my fingers to his lips. It’s a feather-light kiss, a brush of skin I feel it straight between my thighs. Damn, MacCallam Lockwood Tate is so irresistible to me.

I answer him honestly. “I had no idea this vacation would go this way.”

It’s a short walk to the boat, and Cal has his share of screaming fans. He waves, and I wish I could be like my sister—so completely enraptured with my date that I don’t even notice all the death glares shooting at me from the crowd. Too bad, I see all the bitches that want to take my place. I can’t think about them. I have enough complications on my plate.

Once onboard the super yacht, it’s like my first night at the charity ball, only this time, I’m far more comfortable in my dress and heels, and the entire plan has fallen apart. I have nothing and everything to lose.

“MacCallam! Introduce me to your lovely date.” The same woman who cornered me with Reggie that first night approaches us, and while I remember her, I’m pretty sure she has no recollection of me.

“Mother,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

Her majesty gives me a more focused examination tonight, and I can feel her sizing me up.

“Miss Zelda Benedict of Texas,” Cal says.

Inside I cringe hearing him repeat our lies, still I hold my poker face intact. “Your majesty,” I say, doing a slow curtsey.

“Benedict? We’ve met before,” she says, clearly not connecting me with Reggie.

“Yes, ma’am. At the charity ball.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “A legion of young ladies attended that ball.”

“And out of them all, I found Zee,” Cal says, taking her hand and stepping forward to kiss her cheek again. “We’re just making the rounds.”

I can tell he’s trying to disengage, but his mother isn’t finished. “Who is this young woman who has Rowan so infatuated?”

“She’s a friend of Zelda’s,” he says, nodding to me, which gets me a more pointed inspection from the queen.

“From Texas?” Her eyes are on me, but I’m not sure she’s actually addressing me.

“Florida, mother,” Cal says, releasing her hand and stepping back. “Lovely girl. We’ve spent the last several days together.”

The old crone’s about to launch into some complaint, I can see it in her eyes, and my hackles start to rise. I might not be Ava’s mother, but I’ve been the closest thing for the last ten years. Lucky for both of us, Cal makes some excuse and leads us away, further into the crowd toward the deck of the enormous yacht.

We’re walking slowly under white canopies and Cal speaks briefly to couples sitting on round, wicker love seats and long, flat deck chairs.

Once we’re somewhat alone, he assesses my cooling temper. “Mother has very definite ideas about what the future queen should be like.”

I have to remind myself she’s his mother, but it’s difficult. “I’m sure she does,” is all I’ll say.

I’d like to see that old bat find anyone sweeter than my little sister, even if Ava might steal your watch.

“We all should have friends as loyal as you,” he chuckles and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll get us a glass of wine. Don’t move.”

I give him a little smile and walk over to the rail of the yacht, looking out at the breathtaking view. It’s a clear night, a light breeze is blowing, and the air is a little salty. Turquoise water stretches away, turning slowly deeper blue, and it’s so beautiful, I dream of what it would be like if we could just run away.

“It won’t work,” I whisper to myself. I’ll have to be honest with him at some point.

“What won’t work, Zelda Wilder?” I jump at the exaggerated country twang, and just as fast, fear shoots through my stomach.

I turn slowly to face… “Seth.” A tremor is in my voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you could’ve knocked me over with a cotton ball when I saw your sister Ava’s picture on the arm of the Crown Prince of Monagasco!” He’s doing the casino act, and I am freaking out. “I hopped the first flight over to come check on my girls.”

“Stop it,” I hiss, grabbing his arm and my composure as fast as possible. “You can’t act like that here.”

Seth’s eyes narrow, and his smooth Kansas is back. “How should I act, my old partner in crime? What kind of a con are you running, Zelda Wilder?”

I frantically scan the crowd looking for Cal. He’ll be back any moment. “It’s Benedict, and Ava is not my sister. I’ll explain it all to you later. You’ve got to go.”

In a swirl of ice-blue chiffon a woman joins us. She’s very beautiful and clearly noble. Her pale blonde hair is styled in a French twist, and an ornate necklace with brilliant blue sapphires is around her neck.

“There you are, Colonel,” she says, taking his arm. “Felicity wanted to stop and speak to the crown prince.”

“Colonel?” My brow arches.

“Oh, I just told Miss Westingroot I was a little ole Kentucky Colonel.”

It’s then I notice he’s wearing a gold pin on his black tuxedo jacket. Sure enough it has Kentucky Colonel stamped on a blue background under a bald eagle.

“Did that come with the coat?” I snark under my breath.

“It’s just an honorary title, of course, but Lara here seems to think it’s worth a damn.”

“Who knew America had such things?” Lara says, but I don’t care for her snotty tone.

My heart jumps again at the sound of Cal’s voice. “Hello, what do we have here?”

Locking my eyes on Seth’s, I mentally order him, Don’t fuck this up…

“MacCallam,” Lara steps forward to kiss my escort’s cheek. “How is your health?”

“Good as yours, I imagine, who do we have here?”

He touches my lower back, and Seth’s eyes narrow. My jaw tightens in response.

Lara gestures toward Seth. “I’d like to present Mister Seth Hines. A real Kentucky Colonel.”

Her tone is still mocking, and I break my staring battle with Seth to evaluate this Westingroot chick.

“As in the chicken franchise?” Cal actually sounds impressed. “Incredible business model. All built around fried chicken.”

“Yes, the Colonel was a smart man,” Seth continues in that ridiculous accent, “Our honorable order lost a real gem when he passed.”

My eyes are back on Seth now, and I’m speechless. Is he actually attempting to be some fried chicken heir? I guess I have no right to judge. I’m supposed to be an oil baron’s niece.

“I’m sorry,” Cal speaks to me. “Zelda, do you know Miss Westingroot? Mister Hines?”

“We’ve only just met,” I say, doing my best to keep it together.

Seth is right on it. “I didn’t get your name, Miss…?”

“Benedict,” Cal answers for me. “Lux Benedict is her uncle. Of Texas?”

“Well, cotton and fiddles,” Seth says, and I cringe. “Texas is a mighty big state, but I’ve still heard of the wealthy Lux Benedict.”

“That’s right!” Lara Westingroot is addressing me now, and her tone has turned to solid ice. “You’re the one we have to thank for the lovely Miss Wilder’s presence.”

“Miss Wilder?” Seth asks, his eyes round with fake curiosity.

“The young lady attached to the crown prince like a remora.”

“Excuse me?” My voice is sharp. “She happens to be one of my best friends.”

Seth’s eyes widen, and my fear at what he could say to expose us is the only thing keeping me in check.

“I declare, Miss Benedict, have you known the crown prince long?” A wicked gleam is in his eyes, and I start to sweat.

“Yes, Miss Benedict,” Westingbitch chimes in. “How long have you known his royal majesty? Or better yet, how do you know him at all?”

My shoulders are tight. I don’t want Seth knowing anything about our arrangement or why we’re here. “I… We… We met the grand duke.”

“A Grand Duke!” Seth exclaims. “Now that is a fancy moniker. Did you meet him in Texas?”

I’m fumbling, searching for anything to deflect these questions. Thankfully, Cal takes my hand. “I’m pretty sure you promised me a dance, Zelda.”

Glancing up, he gives me a reassuring smile, and I want to kiss him. “Yes, you’re right, I did.”

“If you’ll excuse us.” He does a little nod to Seth and the Ice Queen.

After securing our glasses on a low table, he leads me away from the grand inquisition to an area at the back of the enormous deck. An acoustic band is playing softly, some kind of yacht rock, and Cal pulls me against his chest. My forehead touches his jawline, and he speaks in my ear.

“Lara is an elitist prig. I’m sorry if she embarrassed you.” His arms are warm and strong around me. I hold him, fumbling my way back to calm.

“She really hates Ava,” I think out loud, scanning the area for my sister. I haven’t seen her since we boarded, and I know she’s going to panic if she sees Seth. “We should probably find them.”

“Don’t worry. Ro can take care of her.” He kisses the side of my ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

A shimmer of longing moves low in my pelvis. It’s followed quickly by sadness. I would stay with Cal forever if I could. The song ends, and our eyes meet. He reaches up to touch my chin.

“Why so sad, beautiful?” I love his smile, that light in his brownish-green eyes.

“It’s nothing.” I force myself to smile. “I don’t want to spoil our night.”

“Thinking about home?”

Reaching up, I run my finger down the lapel of his elegant tuxedo coat. “I’m thinking about a lot of things.”

The band starts on another song, and I want to scream when fucking Seth appears at my side. “Mind if I cut in?”

Neither of us has a chance to respond before Seth grabs my waist and turns me away onto the floor. His face is at my ear now, and panic is in my heart.

“I confess, Zelda Wilder, you make me proud out here among all these aristocrats. Who would believe you’re the same little bruised-kneed hick I found in Tampa?”

“What do you want, Seth.” My jaw is tight. An edge is in my voice. I don’t like being cornered, and this asshole will not intimidate me.

He leans back to meet my eyes, street-smart hardness flashing in his. “I want to know what you’re doing here. I know you weren’t hired for your looks.”

My lips tighten, but I’m aware we’re being watched. I move closer to his ear. “It’s over. We botched the deal. I’m leaving.”

“I’ve worked with you a long time, Zee. You think I’m buying you threw a job?”

“It’s true! I was supposed to be with the crown prince. It didn’t work out, and now he’s with Ava.”

“Of course, he’s with Ava. She’s a fucking supermodel.” We turn, and I blink around the room, holding my hand at the top of his shoulder so it blocks my lips.

“Right. She’s a liability. You’ve always said that.” I’ve got to keep him away from her.

“What were you supposed to do with that guy? Tell me the plan, and maybe we can salvage it.”

No. I don’t want Seth knowing anything. “I’ve got it under control. Ava’s going to stay here. I’ll be back in Miami in a week. You’re not losing out. You never wanted her on our team anyway.”

“You let me be the judge of that. Is it a full loss? What’s your take?”

“Only ten thousand.”

I feel his body tense. “Only ten thousand?” His hard laugh is in my ear. “Only? You have a fucking distorted sense of the world if you can say only ten thousand.”

“It was supposed to be a lot more, but now it’s over.”

He’s quiet, and we turn again to the slow rhythm. My heart is beating so fast. Desperation is making it difficult to breathe. I’ve got to keep Seth at bay.

My eyes meet Cal’s, and his brow lowers. Dammit, he knows something is wrong, and I watch as he sets his glass down and moves through the crowd to where we’re dancing. I love how protective he is, but I’m panicking because I only have seconds left to appease Seth.

“I’ll split it with you, fifty-fifty,” I hiss in his ear, teeth clenched. “Just don’t fucking ruin this.”

“Fifty-fifty?”

It’s the last words Seth says before Cal is with us.

His strong arm goes around my waist, and I’m back at his side. “That’s enough, Mr. Chicken. I’ll have her back now.”

Seth does a little nod. “I meant no disrespect, sir. Disrespect is not very Kentucky. I’ll just say adieu. Is that correct?”

“That’s right.” Cal’s eyes are leveled on him, and the overprotective glare he’s shooting at Seth turns me on even more than his sexy mouth.

Seth nods and steps forward again, kissing my cheek and speaking directly in my ear. “Text me.”

I flinch, and Cal feels it. He starts to make a move toward Seth, but I step between them. Facing Cal, I resume our slow dance in time with the music. Cal’s eyes are focused over my shoulder watching Seth disappear through the bodies. The muscle in his jaw moves, and he looks down at me. My heart melts at his expression.

“You okay? Was that asshole making you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t like fried chicken.” I say with a little laugh.

I’m not sure how much more of this emotional roller coaster I can take. Cal pulls me close, and his hand moves slowly across the skin of my lower back as we sway to the remainder of the song. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, allowing his strength to soothe me.

I’m still a little trembly inside, but Seth is appeased for the moment. I didn’t tell him about the additional ten thousand Reggie put in our account, and my hope is I can keep that to myself. I’m going to need it if I ever expect to get away from him for good. The song ends, and I exhale the last of my nerves.

“What now?” Cal says, looking down.

“Would you mind if we find Ava? I need to tell her something.” She needs to know Seth is here, and I’ve got him under control.

“Sure.” He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the tops of my fingers before leading me slowly through the elegant bodies.

I think about what I told Seth, my exit strategy. My eyes drift down to my small hand so firmly in Cal’s grip, and I take a shaky breath. It’s going to hurt like hell when I have to leave him.

20

PLAYING POLITICS

Rowan

THE ROSE GALA is the official kick off to racing season, and as such, my decision to enter the fray dominates conversation. The queen is livid, but I’ve managed to avoid her lectures since she suddenly returned from Marins. I’m fully committed, and nothing she can say will change my mind.

“I like your strategy, Rowan.” Prince Fayed Patel of Tunis crosses the upper deck to greet me. “Enter on the last day and cause an upset. It won’t win you the race.”

My former rival’s eyes shine with humor. On his arm is his wife Paridhi, a dark-haired beauty in a pink lace sari.

“I love your dress,” she says, reaching for Ava’s hand. “Will you tell me where you got it?”

With a quick glance at me, Ava goes with her to the railing overlooking the emerald waters leaving Fayed and me alone to talk.

“I heard your deal with the Americans went through,” he says.

“All that’s left is the approval of parliament and signing the contracts.”

“Your decision to scale back your holdings in our country isn’t a popular one.” His tone is gentle, but I have to handle this situation diplomatically. Fayed is a close ally.

“Increasing our dependence on oil is not on my agenda. You see what it’s doing to the economy in Saudi.”

My friend nods. “This clean energy proposal is very new. You think it is more stable?”

“It might be. It has a large number of strong backers.” A glance around the room, and I nod to a few members of the old guard watching us. “It only needs to be presented in the right way. The research is sound, and I’m confident introducing a revenue stream more stable than oil and tourism is the best course for our future.”

“I am acquainted with your attention to detail. I’m sure this proposal has merit.” Fayed tilts his glass side to side. “Still, I hate to lose an ally.”

I’m quick to stop that presumption. “Nothing will be lost. We’re not divesting; we’re simply reinvesting in something new.”

“Ah,” he nods. “We can discuss this further at another time. I noticed technology isn’t the only new thing occupying your thoughts.”

My eyes follow his to where Ava stands talking to Paridhi. She’s so natural with the princess, admiring her dress and hair. “After the race I intend to announce the deal, and depending on how it goes, my choice of a bride.”

Fayed’s dark brow rises. “She’s very beautiful. Who is she?”

“A friend of my uncle’s.” I think about the answer. “She’s American, but she has a way about her…” I can’t think of how to finish without sounding like a lovesick fool.

Fayed chuckles and pats my shoulder. “It’s a love match. The best kind.” The women are slowly walking back to where we stand. “Good luck to you. I’m going to win on Sunday, but I’ll share the magnum.”

That makes me laugh. “Don’t claim that magnum prematurely. I’ll see you at qualifications tomorrow.”

Paridhi takes her husband’s arm, and Ava holds mine. We watch as they stroll away, disappearing into the crowd. I glance down at my beautiful date, thinking how she changes the tone of the entire evening.

In the past, these events and functions have always felt like a chore for me. Tonight, I want everyone to see the gorgeous woman on my arm. I want them to become accustomed to seeing her with me.

“You love this,” she says, looking up at me and smiling. “You’re the most relaxed and happy I’ve seen you in public.”

Putting both my hands on her waist, I pull her to me. “Are you saying I’ve only been relaxed and happy with you in private?”

“Up to tonight? Yes,” she teases, and I lean down to kiss her. Our lips only briefly touch before she pulls back. “I have your gift.”

Opening her tan clutch, she pulls out a gold herringbone bracelet. It’s wide and clearly designed for a man. I watch as she fastens it around my wrist, feeling slightly uneasy. I’ve never worn jewelry, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I know it’s old-school,” she says, running her finger along the shiny surface before pushing it under my cuff and into my sleeve. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it. It’s eighteen karat gold.”

She looks up, and the shyness in her eyes makes me want to hold her in my arms. “I’m not accustomed to jewelry,” I say as gently as possible.

“I know. It’s not fashionable anymore.” Her chin drops.

“I’m not used to something around my wrist. I might damage it.” Catching her chin, I lift her eyes to mine. “Still, I’ll keep it on me during the race.”

Her brow relaxes, and she smiles. “For luck.”

Touching her cheek, I can’t help a sense of wonder at this person. “You’re my luck. I’ll wear it for you.”

Cal’s voice cuts through our moment. “Had enough of all this nonsense? I know you hate it.”

I look up at my brother, joining us with Zelda on his arm. “It’s not so bad. I’m actually enjoying myself.”

“I don’t believe it.” He slants an eye at me, and I shrug.

“Rowan,” Zelda says, touching her friend’s hand. “Do you mind if I steal her for just a bit?”

Stepping back, I nod. “Of course not.”

Cal and I watch as they walk slowly to the other side of the deck, stopping by the rail. For a moment, I observe how alike they move. I suppose it’s because they’re so close. Ava is several inches taller than Zee.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” A smile is in my brother’s tone. “Ava is the reason you’re enjoying yourself here.”

“She’s part of the reason.” A very big part, I don’t add. “I just spoke with Fayed. He’s aware we got the green light on the deal with the Americans.”

“How’d he take it?” Cal has been with me every step of the way in my efforts to diversify our economy. “Disappointed, but understanding. He’s more interested in the race at present.”

“It’s a festival weekend—especially now that you’ve changed the conversation. We’ll get back to business on Monday.”

“I’ll have to discuss it with the queen before I bring it to the council.”

“Will you include Reggie in the conversation? She’s met with him a few times since he’s been back.”

That flashes me. “About what?” I’m more than a little annoyed they’ve had meetings without my knowledge.

“From what I understand, she’s trying to see if he has any ulterior motives for being here—other than bringing a certain wealthy American heiress to your attention.”

“Zelda,” I say with a nod, thinking how his matchmaking efforts are directly linked to his record for economic conservatism. “An oil heiress is more of his outdated way of thinking. Getting us further entrenched in waning technologies.”

“They’re not entirely outdated just yet.”

“They’re also not what I want for our future. Tourism, gambling, oil—all are dependent on the global economy and disposable income. I want us insulated against factors we can’t control.”

Cal holds up his hands. “I’m on your side.”

“Reggie, however, is not.” I’m less angry at my uncle, but I’m not ready to pull him into the inner circle just yet. Cal looks away to where the ladies have gone, and I can’t resist a little prod. “At least his efforts weren’t wasted. You seem to be enjoying your time with Miss Benedict.”

He glances up, and I don’t miss the change in his expression. “She’s kind of perfect, but I don’t know. It’s a lot to consider.”

“What is?”

“They’re leaving soon. Going back to America.”

Now I’m the one searching for them. “I didn’t know that. When?”

“Zelda didn’t say an exact date. It has something to do with her uncle’s will.”

“That doesn’t impact Ava.” I’m speaking as much to myself as to my brother. “She shouldn’t have to leave.”

I find Ava talking to Zelda across the deck, and the shadow I see passing over her face erodes my confidence.

“Maybe,” Cal continues. “I get the feeling they stick together.”

I’ve left my brother’s side, and now I’m walking to where they stand. Zelda doesn’t see me approach, and I catch the end of what she’s saying before Ava cuts her off.

“I think he’s satisfied for now, but I don’t know what he might attempt—”

“Rowan!” Ava rushes forward, placing her hand on my forearm. “Zelda and I were just talking.”

“Cal told me. You’re leaving? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Her green eyes go round. “I don’t know.” She looks rapidly to Zelda and back to me. “Everything is happening so quickly.”

I cover her hand with mine, thinking of our day in Occitan, making love in the ocean. I remember eating strawberries and drinking champagne, discussing poetry and what I want my legacy to be. I want Ava at my side for all of it.

“It’s my fault,” Zelda says, drawing my attention away from the girl standing in front of me. “I wasn’t sure if Ava wanted to stay… If I have to leave.”

Ava releases my arm and returns to her friend. “Stay here alone? Without you?” I don’t miss the worry in her voice.

“I was hoping…” Zelda looks up at me again. “I hoped you wouldn’t be alone.”

I reach for my lady, and the bracelet she gave me slips out of my sleeve, falling onto my hand.

Zelda’s eyes fix on it, and her expression changes. “Did you give him that?”

Ava takes my hand, tucking the piece in my sleeve again. “Yes.”

“In what way? As a trade? A farewell?”

My stomach twists, and I don’t understand the meaning of these questions. I don’t like what that meaning could be.

“It’s for luck. It’s for him,” she says, looking up at me. “It’s for all you’ve given me. I don’t need anything in return.”

Placing my hands on the sides of her face, I trace my thumbs along her cheekbones. She has no idea how much I want to give her. “I treasure it.”

Zelda looks from me to her and back again before stepping away from us. “Have a good night. We can talk more tomorrow.”

My eyes are consumed with the sight of the girl in front of me. I only just hear what Zelda is saying, and I pause.

“Zelda!” I call after her. She stops, and I tell her plainly, “You will stay through the race. You won’t leave until after it’s done.”

Her mouth opens as if she’ll argue with me, but she seems to change her mind. “I’ll do what I can,” she says, but that’s not good enough.

“No.” My voice is sterner. “You will not leave until after the race on Sunday. If you have a problem, come and talk to me.”

Her brow lines, and for a moment I hold Ava, watching her friend with an expression that won’t take no for an answer.

At last she sighs. “I’ll talk to you if something happens.”

“Good.”

She’s not smiling, but she returns to where Cal is waiting, holding a champagne flute and watching. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m not letting them go so easily.

21

INSTINCT

Zelda

CAL HANDS ME MY CHAMPAGNE, and like the tiny bubbles rising in a straight line to the surface, Rowan’s command is at the top of my mind.

On the one hand, it’s reassuring that the future king is so adamant about us staying in the country. On the other, I can’t promise him I won’t leave. I’m more inclined to say Ava will stay—if he’ll have her once the truth is out.

Cal’s sexy tone pulls me out of my distraction. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you are tonight?”

Glancing up, I study his eyes. They change color, depending on what he wears, sometimes being all green, others more brown. Tonight they’re warm, and that flippy fish I was sure had swum away for good when Seth appeared is back. He stirs these feelings I can’t stop, even though I know they’ll devastate me in the end.

“What do you see when you look at me?” I ask, thinking of what Seth said as we danced, who I really am.

“Well…” His large hand covers my lower back, pulling me close. “The first time I saw you, I noticed your top lip is a little fuller than your bottom.”

“Oh!” Embarrassment heats my face. “It makes me look buck-toothed, doesn’t it?” I pull the offending lip under my bottom teeth.

“No.” He reaches up to touch my mouth, releasing it from my bite. “It makes you look like someone I want to do very naughty things with.” His low voice is sultry at my ear, flooding my panties with heat.

“Cal—”

“Hang on, I’m not done.” Taking my hand, he starts to walk, leading me down the stairs to the lower deck. “I like how the line in your chin is slightly off-center.”

“It is?” Oh my god! I cover my chin.

That makes him laugh, and he takes my hand away. “I said I like it.” He stops a moment and kisses my hand. “But most of all, I like when you speak.”

Good grief, now he’s going to say my voice is weird. I’m almost afraid to use it. “What happens when I speak?”

“Your blue eyes sparkle.” Lifting my chin to look at him, I catch the gleam in his eyes and my insides tighten. “It’s like you have this amazing secret just for me.”

Shaking my head, I do a little laugh. “Your imagination is very vivid.”

“Don’t crush my dream.” He resumes walking, leading me across the smooth wooden deck. As we pass a server holding a tray of champagne flutes, he replaces our empties with two fulls.

“Why are you plying me with alcohol?” I tease.

“I like how champagne affects you.”

He pulls me through a narrow door into an equally narrow passage. It’s dim, with only a few recessed lights scattered around the corners. We reach another door, and he lifts the handle, stepping through it and going down another narrow hallway.

“Where are you taking me?” I hold his arm as I carefully maneuver down the passage, trying not to fall or spill my drink.

Finally, he reaches the last door. “I looked up the boat’s layout. You’ve got to see this.”

Leading us inside, he shuts the door behind us and locks it. I look around the room in wonder. We’re in a plush bedroom with stark white carpeting. All the accents are shiny wood, and most of the space is filled with an enormous king bed. Two padded leather steps lead up to a Jacuzzi tub perched high and surrounded by narrow windows looking out at the night sky.

“It’s beautiful!” I whisper. “Whose room is this?”

“Nobody’s. They rented the yacht for the gala. No one is staying here…”

I don’t miss the way his voice trails off. “I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“Did you see what we have here?” He puts his drink on a small shelf attached to the wall and walks to the enormous Jacuzzi.

“A Jacuzzi in the bedroom?” I do the same and join him at the steps.

Cal’s eyebrows wriggle as he turns the tap. “Let’s test this baby out.”

Everything that happened tonight has me so tense and worried… A relaxing soak would be so nice.

“Again, you know exactly what I need,” I say.

“I’ll take care of you.” He’s back with me, pulling me close.

My insides unclench, and I rest my cheek against him. We’re below the party in this private place. The door is locked, a Jacuzzi tub is filling, and this amazing man, this prince, is holding me so close. Am I in a fairytale?

“The gala will go all night,” he says, running his hands down my hair. “We can sleep here if we want.”

“How do you know?”

Warm teasing is in his voice. “I realize I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m a prince. I tend to get certain privileges.”

Closing my eyes, I only hold him. Ava is safe with the king; I’m here with this prince. It’s almost funny I’ve never thought of him that way. Up to this point, he’s always just been Cal.

“Sexy MacCallam Lockwood Tate,” I say with a sigh.

He chuckles, “What was that?” His hand covers my lower back.

“I was thinking how I never think of you as a prince.”

His cheek rests against the top of my head. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I’m sorry—I don’t mean it as a bad thing…”

“Don’t apologize.” Stepping back, he lifts my face, looking deep into my eyes. “I like that you see me as a man first. You’re not looking for anything. You don’t have an agenda.”

My voice is quiet, serious. “I couldn’t.”

I never expected MacCallum Lockwood Tate. Even if I had, I would never have been prepared for him. He came straight out of left field and caught me totally off guard… and I’ve fallen for him so hard.

His expression changes, it turns focused and burning with intensity. Stepping back, he flicks his tie undone before moving to the cuffs of his white shirt. From there he starts on the front buttons.

“Take off that dress.” It’s a low order that starts my insides buzzing.

For a second, I’m transfixed, watching as he unfastens his clothes. Then I think of all the dirty things we can do in a hot tub.

“This is vaguely familiar,” I tease.

“Dress. Off.” It’s a little louder, a little more stern, and all my teasing fades into lust.

I reach behind my neck to loosen the tie. My top falls to my waist, and our night in the Paris Hotel burns in my memory. I shiver watching him catch the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head, leaving his thick hair a sexy mess.

“All the way,” he commands. “I want to see that pussy.”

“So bossy, MacCallum,” I sigh.

He’s in front of me in only black trousers, and the lines along his torso and stomach deepen in the dim light. Dark eyes hold me, waiting for me to obey.

This time I’m wearing panties, but when my dress hits the floor, it’s possibly even hotter than if I weren’t. I’m standing in heels and a matching nude-lace lingerie set I picked up as we passed through Agent Provocateur this morning. My hair is in soft waves around my shoulders, skimming my nipples like in his fantasy.

A hiss of air passes through his teeth, and he steps forward, running a finger along the black lines of the lace flowers. His touch is electric, heightening all the sensations humming under my skin.

“Let me see them,” he says.

Reaching up, I slide my fingertips along the edge of the lace, pulling the bra cups down so my hardened nipples peek over the tops. Large hands immediately close over my breasts, cupping and squeezing them.

“You are so damn sexy.”

It’s my turn now. I trace my fingers along the lines of his chest, sliding my thumbs over his hardened nipples, loving that he’s as turned on as I am. Dragging them lower, I watch as his skin tenses in the wake of my nails. I cup the erection straining in his pants, moving my hand up and down the rigid length. I love the way he moans as I tease him.

“What do you want?” I lift my mouth so my lips just graze his skin as they move, my fingers tracing his cock.

“All of you,” he rasps. “In every way.”

Stepping back, I unfasten my bra, so it falls away. I walk past him to the side of the Jacuzzi tub and reach up to shut off the water. The position arches my back, and I look over my shoulder at him, ass up.

He doesn’t waste a moment removing the last of his clothes. In two steps, he’s behind me, jerking my panties down my hips.

“Oh, god,” I gasp, gripping the step for balance. My knee bends, and I brace myself on the padded leather as he holds my hip, running his cock along my slit, dipping it inside only a bit before sliding it forward to tease my clit.

“Cal… oh, yes,” I moan, my fingers cutting into the leather.

In one quick thrust, he’s inside. We both groan loudly as he stretches me, holding my hips a moment while we regain our bearings. He leans forward, over my back, to speak in my ear, and my body lights up like a torch.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.” He gives me a rough thrust, and I gasp. My hand flies forward to brace us against the side of the tub. “Then I’m going to do it again.”

Another deep thrust, and my thighs tremble. He bites the top of my shoulder and a moan slips from my throat. He does it again, faster, going deeper.

“Cal…” I whisper, my eyes squeezed shut. The sensations rocketing through my stomach and core are overwhelming.

His grip on my waist is like iron. His thrusts become faster, relentless and punishing. He’s hitting me so hard my feet rock forward onto my tiptoes. One hand slides around, and his long fingers taunt my clit.

“Come,” he groans. “Come for me.”

I’m clenching and gasping as he moves in a rhythm faster, provoking the orgasm spiking my veins. He’s never been like this. The Playboy Prince is gone, and instead this conqueror has me, taking what he wants.

He kisses my back, and the scruff of his beard clenches my insides, causing him to groan. “I want you to know I’ve been here. I want you to feel me wherever you go.”

“Oh, god… Yes!” I fumble my hand to cover his moving swiftly between my legs as my vision darkens, my brain scrambles.

I brace against the wall of the Jacuzzi as he blows my mind. Then all at once, he starts to jerk, groaning and pulsing. My insides break, and I come with a ragged cry. He continues rocking us as the sensations flutter and ripple through my legs, into the arches of my feet.

We move slower. I’m trembling, and he’s pulsing above me, sliding his warm hands down the length of my back. I want to curl into his arms. I want him to hold me as I hold him. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and never leave. I want to bask in this afterglow, forgetting everything and pretending I can keep this beautiful man, this beautiful dream.

He slowly pulls out, and I feel the traces of cum on my thighs from an orgasm I can’t wrap my mind around. Turning to on the padded leather step, he pulls me onto his lap.

My knees are bent, and my cheek is against his skin. We’re breathing hard, still coming down, and he slides his hand gently down my hair. Turning my face, I kiss his neck. My heart feels shattered yet whole. He stormed in and took it, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back. He’s right. No matter where I go, I’ll remember this night. I’ll remember how I gave him everything.

The hand that was stroking my hair moves around to my chin, and he lifts my face. Without a word, he kisses me so deeply. My mouth opens readily, and our tongues slide together. It’s warm, tasting, bonding and urgent. Tears heat my closed eyes, and I reach up to hold him, to wrap my arms around his neck, as we communicate in a way words can’t capture.

His lips chase mine, kissing me over and over, nipping my top lip and moving higher to my closed eyes. I’m sure he can taste the salty tears there, hiding behind my lids. He kisses my forehead and then holds me in a long embrace.

Moments slip by as we luxuriate in this closeness, as we let our hearts join with each other’s. It’s only a little while before he moves us slowly to stand.

“Here,” he says, reaching for a soft white cloth and dipping it in the water. Squeezing the excess, he hands it to me then touches my cheek.

Our eyes hold for a moment, and it’s so electric, so intense, I have to blink away for fear I’ll say something I can’t take back. He clears his throat, reaching again for the water as I use the cloth to clean myself.

“It isn’t hot anymore,” he says, and I hear the drain. “I’ll have to refill it.”

“I wish we could swim in the ocean.” I think of the warm salt water swirling around our naked bodies.

Stepping down, he’s in front of me again, placing his palm against my cheek. “We could go back to Occitan.”

I slide my hand over his, and our eyes meet in that incredible swirl of emotion. A loud, staccato banging from the door breaks it all. I squeal and jump back, dropping the cloth.

“Who’s in there? Open this door!” An angry male voice shouts from the outside.

Panic hits me, and I step into my filmy panties, pulling them quickly over my hips. “I thought you said nobody was staying here!”

“I guess I was wrong,” Cal says, grabbing his boxer briefs.

My bra is on in record time, and I’m reaching for my dress when the banging starts again, more violently.

The entire door vibrates from it, and Cal laughs as he steps into his trousers. “I wonder who it could be.”

A noise like metal scraping against the knob is next. It’s a sound I remember so well from the days when Ava and I used to sneak into boathouses to hide from the rain. They’re coming in!

Instinct kicks in, and my dress is over my head in a flash. I scoop my shoes and clutch off the floor and dash up the leather steps, pushing the narrow window sideways and open. Cal’s voice barely registers in my ears before I jump.

The water is like ice when I plunge into the sea. It’s such a familiar memory, I don’t even think as I kick hard, pumping my arms and swimming away from the luxury yacht as fast as I can. Another splash is behind me, and I swim harder. I don’t know if they’ll try to catch me, but I have to get away!

The second swimmer is stronger than I am, faster, and he’s beside me in a few strokes, catching me and pulling me up. We’ve managed to swim around another yacht, and now we’re hidden in the darkness.

“Wait for me,” Cal chokes on a laugh, spitting out water and breathing loudly. I can’t stop shaking, and he’s laughing more, again spitting water as he holds my arm.

“You fucking jumped out the window!” he cries.

We’re both dog paddling and the fear and adrenaline that flooded my mind are surging away, leaving my muscles spent and weak. What the hell did I just do?

“That guy,” I gasp, spitting out salt water. “He scared me!”

“And you fucking jumped out the window?” Cal laughs again. “Jesus, Zee, I never know what the hell you’ll do next!”

“I-I guess I panicked.” My stomach cramps, and I’m exhausted all of a sudden.

He pulls me against his bare chest and wraps his arms around me. “You’re shaking so hard,” he says softly, running his hand up and down my back. “It’s okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Remember the part about how I’m a prince?”

I can’t answer. I only hold him. My shoes are gone. I must’ve dropped them as I swam away. I still have my clutch, although I’m sure everything in it is ruined. Thank goodness for Lifeproof phone cases. I’m pretty confident Reggie won’t be replacing any more of our things.

“I want to go… Back to the hotel.” I almost said home. Where the hell would that be anymore? “Will you take me to my hotel?”

He leans back and smiles. “Sure, my little gypsy.” Then he laughs again. “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were something out of Oliver Twist.”

If only he knew. We paddle to one of the long concrete piers. A metal ladder leads out of the water, and we hold it, catching our breath before we climb.

“Sorry,” I manage. “I’m not used to being caught breaking the law.”

Once we’re standing on the pier, I survey our appearance. My dress is soaked, and I’m barefoot. Cal is only in his soaked black tuxedo pants. He runs his hands back and forth through his hair, leaving it messy and cute, and his eyes are sparkling like his white smile.

Shaking my head, I open my clutch, turning it to the side so all the water can pour out. “I guess my credit card will still work.” Lifting out my phone, I press the button and it lights up. “This case just paid for itself.”

He’s watching me, that amused expression firmly in place. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how we’ll get back to my hotel.” Looking up, I see we’re on the far end of the marina. “We can probably walk.”

“Hajib is with the car in the parking lot.” He points to where we boarded the yacht just a few hours earlier.”

We wait for a moment, watching the elegant guests leaving the boat in pairs, walking slowly to the waiting cars. A little break occurs every few minutes, but the photographers are still hanging around as are a few of the spectators.

“You’re right,” he says, glancing down at his pants. “We should probably skip the car. If those photographers catch us, it’ll be all over the Internet.”

Reaching up, I squeeze the water out of my hair. I try to do the same with my dress, but I’m pretty much stuck looking like a drowned rat. We start to walk, hanging close to the shadow of the tree line. Every few steps, I hit a sharp rock and do a little skip and yelp.

Ten paces more, and Cal stops and catches my shoulder. “Hop on.”

He turns his bare back to me, and I hold up my hands.

“It’s okay, I can manage. My feet are just… out of practice.”

“Get on,” he says impatiently. “I’ve been wanting to toss you on my back since the night you twisted your ankle.”

Snorting a laugh, I take his shoulder and hop on, wiggling to a comfortable position as he slips his hands under my thighs. He’s moving faster, heading away from the crowd at the pier.

“That night seems so long ago,” I say, resting my chin on his neck, inhaling his warm man-scent mixed with the fresh, briny air. “It’s strange to think I was supposed to be with Rowan.”

“Supposed to be?” His voice isn’t angry, more curious, and I decide to take a chance…

“Reggie wanted me to meet him.”

“Right,” Cal nods, surprising me. “He thought you might be a solution to Ro’s problems.”

That’s news to me! “What are you talking about?”

He does a little exhale. “The economy has been bad—unemployment is up, oil prices are down, tourist spending is down. Reggie thought the money from your uncle’s oil reserves could be a new source of revenue for the country.”

“Oh,” I say, quietly, my lips pressing into a frown.

That story doesn’t get me off the hook, it only plays into the con Reggie was running—the con I knew about when I stepped out of that town car at the Royal Sports Club all those nights ago.

“I’m sorry,” Cal’s voice is quiet. “Marrying for political or economic advantage is a longstanding tradition in the monarchy.”

Tilting my head to the side, I study his profile. He’s frowning, but it only sharpens his square jaw, making him look even more attractive.

“You don’t have to apologize. You killed any interest I had in your brother when you came to my bedroom that night.”

He exhales a little laugh and glances over to me. “After the day we’d spent, I wasn’t about to let Ro have you.”

My heart fills with so much joy. Nothing I can do will stop it, and I know it’s only going to be so painful in the end. He slows walking. We’re back at the Fairmont, and I slip off his back. It’s quiet and the traffic is slow. We’re standing in the moonlight on the beach facing each other. I know somewhere Ava is with Rowan.

“Would you like to come up?” My voice is quiet.

His handsome smile splits his cheeks. “Do you have to ask?”

Instinctively, I know I should be trying to detach. I should be putting distance between us, not pulling him closer. I should be guarding my heart and thinking of self-preservation.

I don’t. I take his hand, leading us slowly to the back entrance. I find my door card and let us in, leading him to the elevator and ultimately my room so we can spend another night together. As long as he’s here and we’re in this same place, I just can’t stay away.

22

TRAPPED

Rowan

THE ENGINE ROARS as I blast through the straight. With a sharp downshift, I slow the pace so I can take the first curve. It’s a nonstop pattern of trying to cover as much ground as possible in the straights, followed by dropping almost to a crawl in the hairpin turns. My speed fluctuates from nearly four hundred kilometers per hour to all the way down to sixty.

Still, I grew up running this track. It’s the only race I’ve ever cared about. It’s ridiculously hard and only included in the circuit because of how old and challenging it is, and it’s right here in my own backyard. Winning has been a personal goal as long as I’ve been able to drive, and this year I’ll do it.

Plunging into the tunnel, I’m blinded by the sudden darkness. Blinking fast, I hold the wheel steady, doing my best to avoid any swerving at this speed. Just as fast, I’m blasting into white-hot sunlight. More fast blinking, trying to see. Dirt on my visor annoys me, and I reach up to tear off the thin cover. I’ll have three more tear-offs in the actual race.

“Keep it steady. You’re doing great.” Cal is in my ear, coaching me through the laps.

I ease off, preparing for the final hairpin, dropping to a crawl as my arms do a one-eighty turning the wheel. At last, I’m out. It’s a straight shot to the finish line, and I shift then jam the accelerator to the floor to make up all the time I just lost.

“Keep going… Almost there…” The tension in my brother’s voice grows as the black and white checks fly past me. “You did it!” he shouts. “It’s the best qualifying time today!”

I’m breathing hard, my muscles loose as I coast into the pit area where Cal and my crew are waiting, cheering. Once I’ve stopped, I pull off the helmet, and Cal grabs my arm, giving it a rough shake.

“That’s pole position, depending on Patel.”

My jaw tightens as I bite back a fuck. I know the race will come down to the two of us, and I’m hoping to be pole sitter, the most favorable spot on the starting grid.

“It’s okay,” Cal says with a laugh, leaning closer to my ear. “I’ve been watching him practice. He’s braking too much this year. Either it’s a new car or he’s distracted.”

“The course is nothing but hazards. I’d forgotten how much we have to ride them.”

We’re walking back to the stands, waving and nodding thanks to the cheering spectators and fellow drivers watching from the sides of the track.

“Doesn’t matter. Your speed is the best a driver could hope for. I don’t see him overtaking you.”

“I’m glad you’re with me, brother.” I slap his shoulder. “Get cleaned up. We’ve got meetings.”

A brief stop at the desk to sign the official forms, and I’m heading out. The car will be locked in the parc fermé, the secured area where all competing cars are kept, until the race tomorrow.

In the town car on my way to the palace to shower, change, and start rolling out my proposal for the clean energy deal to the queen and members of parliament, I feel confident and optimistic. My mind drifts to Ava this morning, curled in the sheets asleep, her dark hair soft around her on the pillows.

I think about holding her on my lap last night in that same bed, watching her beautiful body tremble as she came apart in my arms. So far I’ve been gentle with her, easy. I look forward to introducing her to more interesting ways of making love. Once she feels more confident.

We left the gala last night shortly after I spoke to Zelda and returned to Occitan. After a brief swim in the cove sans clothes, we walked back to the house wrapped in thick white robes. Her hand was on my arm, and her body was tight against my side. Stopping on the terrace, I traced my thumbs down the sides of her face, watching how the moonlight shone in her eyes. I considered asking her to marry me then, but I decided to wait.

For starters, I don’t have a ring. I need to put this race behind me, and I’ve got to present the new deal to parliament, sign all the contracts, and announce it publicly. With our economic troubles on the mend, everyone will be far more open to the idea of an outsider, an American, as their future queen.

My queen.

“If she’ll have me,” I exhale, speaking quietly to myself.

“She will, sir.”

Glancing up, I catch Hajib’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They’re creased, and I can tell he’s smiling. Odd Job.

“You think so?” I say louder, leaning back.

“With confidence, sir. I’ve seen the way the young lady looks at you. It’s a love match.”

It’s the same thing Fayed said. A love match… I had always prepared myself to save love, should I find it, for a mistress. My wife would most likely be an arrangement based on political expediency and financial gain. Our marriage would be respectful and courteous, but love?

It seems I was wrong. I glance down at my hands as I turn the word over in my mind. The next time I see her, I’ll have to tell her how I feel.

Zelda

Cal is gone when I open my eyes. A slip of paper is on the pillow where he slept, and I push up onto my elbows, reaching for it.

Have to be at the track for time trials with Ro. After that, meetings with the cabinet, dinner with the queen. I’ll text or call as soon as possible. Miss you already. Last night was amazing. –MLT

My stomach warms, and that silly smile plasters across my face again. I drop my head with a little growl. “I’ve got to stop this!”

Folding the piece of paper in half, I tuck it into my phone case. Then I sit up and throw the blankets aside as I stomp across the room. The room service menu is on the desk. I flip through the pages and order… it’s after noon? Lunch, I guess. I didn’t mean to sleep so late, but in fairness, we didn’t actually go to sleep until almost dawn.

Following that insanely mind-blowing fuck on the boat, the dive into the sea, and the walk back to the hotel, we crashed for a little while as Cruel Intentions played in the background.

Naturally, all the sexy in that movie led to more sexy for us, but it wasn’t as insanely desperate or possessive. Still, the connection we’d made earlier lingered around us. We were closer, more bonded somehow.

I’m standing in the living room staring into space, trying to understand what happened between us when the door opens, and Ava walks in slowly. She’s wearing a dark tee that must be Rowan’s. It’s five sizes too big, and her hair is a beachy-messy bedhead. She doesn’t meet my eyes as she tosses her bag on the table. I’m pretty sure her expression mirrors the conflict I feel. We weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved.

“Hey,” I say, taking a step toward her. “I’m just ordering lunch. You want some?”

“Yeah,” she nods, walking over to drop onto the sofa.

I sit on the arm and she scoots to the side, placing her dark head against my leg. I think about last night. “You gave him the bracelet.”

Quiet answers me. Her chin lowers, and I slide my hand down her hair. After a few moments she speaks. “Remember when you said you only dreamed of safety and keeping us safe when you were a girl?”

“Yeah.” I’m still sliding my hand down her head.

When she speaks again, her voice is quiet, almost ashamed. “I dreamed of being a princess. After we ran away and it was just the two of us and we were so scared? I dreamed of a handsome prince coming and saving us. I dreamed about it a lot.”

My lips pull down in a frown. I don’t know why her words make me want to cry. For a few moments, I look out the window remembering those early days. I remember how her little body would tremble when she was afraid. I remember how she would cling to me like I knew anything about keeping us safe. The only thing I had was stubbornness and luck.

Clearing my throat, I fight back my emotions. “That’s okay. If it helped you not be afraid, you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I feel like…” She hesitates, a few moments pass. “I feel like these last few days my dream has come true. And I hate that it’s all a lie.”

My brow lines, and I think about my jobs, the cons I’ve run, the people I’ve cheated. As much as I’ve tried to keep her away from what I do, she’s still a part of my world. She’s never really out of danger as long as she’s with me.

Threatening Ava is how Reggie trapped me here in the first place. When he said she could go to prison for five years, I panicked. I could go to prison for five years, but not Ava. For the first time, I’d seen how my actions can hurt her.

With a deep sigh, she pushes off the couch. “I’m going to shower.”

I don’t try to stop her. She disappears into her bedroom, and I place the order for our food. For a moment, I sit staring at the sapphire blue waters, thinking about that whole concept of freedom. I think about the beautiful moments I’ve shared with Cal. As much as I love those moments, as close as he is to my heart, I’m a liability to him as well. If his people knew who I really am, all the things I’ve done…

With a fortifying breath, I push off the sofa. It’s time to confront Reggie. I have to get to the bottom of what’s going on here. At the very least, I need to know what he expects from us now. After that, I’ll deal with Seth.

I might have gotten a break from reality for a little while last night, but my problems are stacking up faster than waves coming in with the tide. It’s time to sink or swim.

In my room, I pull on a pair of dark jeans and a black tank. My hair is a mess from jumping in the ocean followed by screwing Cal all night, but I smooth it into a side ponytail. I’m not trying to impress Reggie. He’s seen me messy and unpolished.

Stepping into a pair of beige espadrilles, I give myself a reassuring look in the mirror, but it’s no good. My face is lined with worry.

Lunch will be here when I get back, but I can’t eat with this hanging over my head. I don’t know what Reggie will do when I tell him I quit. He could call Rowan and destroy us. Or he could simply have us kicked out of the hotel.

That dark possibility has me dashing back to grab my clutch off the kitchen counter. My phone, the room key, and that black credit card are inside, and I put all three in my pockets just in case.

Reggie’s room is only a few doors down from ours. As I walk, the space seems to expand like a telephoto lens. Cal is on my mind—what he’ll say if Reggie exposes us, losing him. My insides shiver. I had thought I could figure out Reggie’s plan and tell it to Cal. I had hoped it might redeem us in his eyes…

The thought Ava doesn’t know where I am drifts through my mind. Too late. I’m at his door. I have to do this now.

Lifting my fist, I’m all set to knock when I notice the door isn’t closed all the way. Placing my palm flat against the wood, I give it a gentle push, and the latch slips open. It falls away, revealing the vacant entrance. Two male voices are inside arguing, so I step quietly through the door, thankful my shoes make no sound.

“His deal with the Americans is finalized. He’s meeting with parliament now, with the queen tonight… She will support him.” Reggie’s voice is tense and urgent, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. “It’s over, Wade. We’re through”

“Calm yourself, Reginald,” the male voice I assume is Wade’s answers. “I’m meeting with Fayed this afternoon, and I intend to reassure him we will not be pulling out of his country. Their oil and gas production has just gotten off the ground, and with the countries unified, we’ll invest deep in their operations.”

“How do you intend to make that happen?” Reggie snaps back.

“Simple. The crown prince has given us the means to remove him as an obstacle.”

“Is that so? Do explain.”

My brain is moving fast. Cal said Wade Paxton was the Prime Minister of Totrington. He’s the man Rowan suspected of plotting with Reggie and Hubert to kill their father.

“We’ve had a plan in place since before the king died for eliminating these… impediments.” His voice is calm, sinister, and my chest tightens. “Rowan’s decision to enter the Grand Prix made it easier than ever. I’ve already set the wheels in motion, if you will.”

“What does that mean?” A tone I’ve never heard before is in Reggie’s voice. It sounds like fear.

“I mean the removal of the crown prince has begun.”

Ice filters through my veins. I sure as hell know that means.

Reggie’s disgusted laugh makes me swallow hard. Every muscle in my body is tense. “Why even pretend we’re working together, Wade? You’ve already planned everything without our council.”

“Don’t be a brooding old woman, Reginald. You had a plan. It was idiotic, so I launched a new one.” He pauses to chortle. “Idiotic… Why would Rowan choose one female over all the others?”

“Money, political expediency. I’m familiar with my nephew’s taste. I brought him a lady I knew would tempt him.”

My nose wrinkles. His word choice makes me feel like a call girl.

“And still he chose another,” Wade growls. “Such an obstinate young man. So arrogant and annoying.”

“Back to the point,” Reggie says. “Tell me about this plan.”

“While your trick with the girl was idiotic, you showed great foresight in bringing along a spare.”

“You mean Ava?” I hear movement as if he’s pacing. “I don’t see how she’ll help us any more than Zelda did.”

“She’s already helped us immensely,” Wade says. “He’s in love with her, and he’s doing this race to impress her.”

“I think you’re mistaken. He’s never given up racing. He only stopped competing.”

“Reginald.” Wade’s voice is condescending. “Are you being deliberately obtuse? Trust me. This is all about swinging around his big dick.”

“You’ve always been so colorful.” Reggie sniffs. “And what if it is?”

“What if he has an unfortunate accident?” Evil drips in his voice. “The poor, poor crown prince. It’s too bad if he’s taken out of the picture before he ever has the chance to finalize his deal.”

My scalp prickles as I feel the blood drain from my face. They’re talking about killing Rowan at the race!

The room is silent. I hold my breath waiting to hear what Reggie will say. Do the right thing, Reginald…

“You’re planning to assassinate the crown prince.” It isn’t a question. It isn’t even as shocked as it should be.

“Such an ugly word.” Wade’s slimy voice makes my skin crawl. “I’m merely observing it’s a difficult track. It involves much braking and rapid acceleration. A hairpin turn is positioned at the top of a high cliff, and at one point, the drivers are plunged into almost total darkness.”

“The tunnel,” Reggie says quietly.

“Fatal crashes occur all the time in motorsport. It would be a shame if your future king’s car failed. If he slammed into the wall and joined their ranks.”

Closing my mouth, I swallow, trying to restart my breathing. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get back across the hall, to our room and tell Ava. She’s got to warn Rowan… I start to move just as the men resume speaking.

“It won’t work,” Reggie says, and I stop to listen.

“Why the devil not?”

“MacCallam. He’s the presumptive heir. If anything happens to Rowan, he becomes the crown prince, and he’ll continue his brother’s legacy.”

“You disappoint me, Reginald,” I hear him moving. “You think my plan doesn’t include MacCallam?”

I’m frozen in place. Not Cal…

Reggie hesitates a moment. “What have you planned?”

More movement. “As captain of the pit crew, Cal would know if the car had problems. He would be in charge of checking it out, top to bottom… Unless he had ambitions of his own. Unless he saw an opportunity to seize power.”

Reggie makes a grunting sound. “Everyone knows how close the brothers are. No one will believe Cal would intentionally hurt Rowan.”

My knuckles are white on the kitchen counter. I’m holding on, bracing myself against what they might say next.

“They don’t have to believe it. They need only look at the evidence.”

I push off the counter and start for the door, but just as I’m moving, my phone chirps loudly with a text.

“Who’s there?” Reggie shouts, and I hear them both heading my way fast.

My heart is flying, and I run around the corner, pushing off the wall as I skid to a stop at the door. Jerking the handle down, I’m pulling it toward me when it flies from my hand with a SLAM!

“What have we here?” Wade’s voice is a sinister smile. He grabs my shoulder in an iron grip and slams my back against the wall, forcing an Oof! from my mouth. “What the fuck are you doing sneaking around our rooms?”

It takes me a moment to catch my breath. “I wasn’t—” My text tone sounds again, and Wade’s eyes drop to my waist.

“Take her phone,” he says to Reggie.

“Zelda,” Reggie says, taking my phone from my pocket. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Ah, Miss Wilder,” Wade Paxton smiles, and I recognize the evil glint in his eyes. I’ve seen it before in our trashy foster “father,” although I never called him that. “Do you know who I am?”

He has greasy black hair and a little mustache, and he’s wearing a suit. On the pocket is an insignia. Lifting his lapel, he holds it closer for me to see.

“Wade Paxton,” I say quickly.

“Correct. Prime Minister of Totrington.” His painful grip moves to my upper arm, and he lifts me, half-dragging, half-pushing me into the living room of Reggie’s suite. “You’ve been spying on classified state secrets. Do you know what we do with spies, Miss Wilder?”

“You don’t have to kill me,” I say fast. I might be out of my league with these guys, but I grew up talking my way out of trouble. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave here and go back to Miami.”

“You must think I’m a fool.” He looks to my former associate. “Reggie, who is that text from?”

Reggie turns my phone over and touches the button. “Playboy prince.” My heart plunges to my feet, and his blue eyes meet mine. “I’m going to assume that’s MacCallam. It says, ‘Are you wearing panties.’”

My eyes close, and any plans I had to convince them I wouldn’t tell Cal are shot to hell now. If I were looking for something to pin on Reggie, I sure as hell found it. Too bad, it might cost me my life.

“She isn’t leaving this room.” Wade has my arm again, and he drags me to the wet bar, opening and shutting drawers quickly.

My mouth is dry, I’m shaking, but I’ve got to try. “I’m leaving him. I was coming here to tell Reggie. I’m going back to Miami. Cal doesn’t know.”

“Here.” Wade pulls out a knife. “Do you have any rope, Reginald?”

“Stop this, Paxton,” Reggie reclines on the sofa, a bored look on his face. “We’re not killing her. Who will clean up the mess?”

Wade’s sinister eyes are calculating. “What do you suggest?”

“Lock her in the bedroom until we’ve finished our business here then arrange for her disposal afterwards.”

“Reggie,” I whisper. “Just let me take Ava and go. I won’t get in your way. You know I won’t.”

“I don’t know anything now that you’re romantically involved.”

“I’m not romantically involved!” I cry, my voice cracking. “I’m a professional, Reggie. Remember the casino?”

“I thought you were a professional. Sadly I was mistaken.” He rises from the couch, and walks toward the bedroom. Wade jerks my arm, pushing me after him.

“Very convenient, you providing your phone.”

I watch as he begins texting. “What are you doing? Who are you texting?” Panic floods my veins.

“Message to Ava: Ran out to meet Cal. See you after the race. Zee.” He glances toward Wade. “You said your plan is in motion. I presume it includes men stationed along the course?”

“On the pit crew, along the course,” Wade says. “I’ve covered every possible outcome.”

My eyes fly back and forth between them. I’m having difficulty breathing. “What will you do?”

Reggie steps directly in front of me, pushing my nose almost to his chest. “I might not trust you, but I know your Achilles heel. You’ll cooperate—if only to protect your sister’s life.”

Jerking away from Wade, I swing my arm at Reggie’s face. “You will not hurt Ava!”

He dodges easily, shoving me aside. “I will kill your beautiful sister if you do anything to interfere with our plans.”

Stepping back, I take a breath. He’s right about one thing—no matter what I have to do, I won’t let him hurt Ava.

“You have a deal. I won’t say a word.”

I start for the door, and Wade Paxton actually laughs. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Pausing, I look from him to Reggie. “I just gave you my word—”

“Whatever deal you make with Sir Winchester, it will begin after the race tomorrow. Not before.”

My arm is back in his iron grip, and he drags me to the bedroom, shoving me inside. I slump against the wall as he walks around the room. He goes to the balcony door and then returns to where I’m doing my best to stay out of his way. He goes in the bathroom for a moment then returns with his hands on his hips.

“This won’t work,” he snaps. “Too many ways she can escape.”

“She can’t go through the lobby,” Reggie argues. “The paparazzi are everywhere. She’s a top story now that she’s been seen with the prince numerous times.”

The two men look at me again. Wade’s eyes are glittering and cold, and I’m convinced he’d just as soon kill me. Reggie looks more impatient. My mind is racing.

“I can give you money. I’ll give back all the money—”

“You stupid bitch, I bankrolled this entire venture.” Wade’s lip curls. “I own you.”

Reggie walks through the suite again, looking around. “Every goddamn room has a window.”

“Put her in the bathroom,” Wade says. “I’ll walk down to the corner and purchase rope, duct tape, and a bicycle chain to tie her hands and lock her in.”

Reggie nods. “Get going. I’ll guard her here.”

The other man starts for the door, but then walks back to me. “Just in case you’re thinking of trying to double-cross me.”

With a loud SMACK! he whips his meaty palm across my face. Light explodes behind my eyes, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m on the floor, on my hands and knees. Pain radiates through my cheek, and my mouth is full of the thick, coppery taste of blood.

“You’re determined to leave evidence behind,” Reggie says, pushing a cloth handkerchief to me.

Wade bends down and grabs a handful of my hair right at the top of my head. He jerks my neck back, forcing me to look at him. I struggle not to cry out, but the pain makes it difficult.

“I’m not impressed by you, Zelda Wilder. I don’t value your life over our plans for Monagasco. Do you understand?” He’s so close, little drops of spit hit my face. “If it weren’t for Reggie, you’d already be dead.”

Blinking fast, I struggle to hold it together as I glare back at his hateful eyes.

“One sneaky trick. One attempt to escape, and I won’t hesitate.” He shoves my head away, and I sprawl onto the floor again.

His shoes squeak on the marble as he goes to the door. It closes with a slam, and he’s gone, leaving only Reggie and me.

“Why are you here, Zelda? I told you to wait until I came for you.”

“Let me go, Reggie.” My heart aches and my swollen lip distorts my words. “It’s not too late to change this.”

“What’s happening now goes way beyond what we discussed in Miami.”

“How can you do this?” My voice cracks. “They’re your nephews. Your family!” All I can think of is protecting Ava, saving Cal, saving Rowan.

His expression becomes closed. “In matters of state, family is sometimes a casualty.”

“So you did help kill the king! Rowan was right!”

Clearing his throat, he walks to the wet bar, and I watch as he takes a handful of ice and puts it in a cloth napkin. “Philip was overweight. He had a short temper and high blood pressure. I can’t be held responsible for his heart attack.”

He hands me the makeshift ice pack, and I hold it to my throbbing cheek. “You stood by and let it happen. It’s the same as helping.”

He walks to the large glass doors overlooking the Mediterranean. “I like you Zelda. I’ll do what I can to protect you, but if you cross Wade Paxton, I can’t stop the consequences. He is not someone you want to play games with.”

The door opens, and Wade returns. The only thing in his hand is a rope. “Sold out of duct tape,” he growls as he passes, grabbing my forearm so hard, I stumble.

He drags me to the bathroom and shoves me inside. His hand goes to his pocket, and I watch as he pulls out a long knife. My throat closes.

“You see this?” His blue eyes slice into mine, and fear clenches my chest.

I don’t answer and he charges me, pushing me all the way until my back slams against the wall. My head aches from hitting the plaster, and I struggle to fight back my tears. I can’t appear weak. I have to be strong.

His face is right in mine, and I try to turn to avoid his sour onion breath. “Make any noise, scream…” His hand clamps around my wrist so hard, I’m afraid the bones will break.

Jerking my arm, he slams my palm flat on the granite countertop. I can’t help a scream. My insides are shaking, and I struggle to get away.

“I’ll start with the smallest one.” The knife presses hard against the knuckle of my pinkie finger, breaking the skin as searing pain shoots through my hand.

“NO!” I shout, twisting and dropping to my knees. “DON’T!”

“SHUT UP!” He growls, kicking me in the stomach.

“Oh, god…” I’m gulping for air as pain cramps my midsection. Tears blur my vision. A roaring noise is in my ears, and I’m afraid I’ll pass out. “Please… no.”

“Wade!” Reggie’s voice cuts through the din. “Think about what you’re doing. This room is in my name. I will not be implicated in a blood bath!”

Wade pauses, looking down at me. The pressure of the knife grows stronger against my knuckle, and I cry louder. I can’t stop shaking. My nose is hot. Snot is on my battered lip, and his grip is a shackle around my wrist. I’m on the floor, trying to pull away.

At once he releases me, and I fall to the hard marble. A startled cry slips from my lips. My knuckle is bloody, and I shove both hands under my arms, pushing with my heels until my back is against the wall. My knees are bent for protection.

Wade leans down, pointing the sharp knife at my nose. “I will cut them off, one by one. Then I will move to your toes. I’ll take off your ears, followed by the tip of your nose. Your tongue…”

My stomach heaves, and I’m afraid I’ll vomit.

“Good god, we get the point,” Reggie says.

I press my eyes against the tops of my knees. I don’t want to see his horrible face anymore. Everyone I know and love is in danger, and I’ve never been so afraid. I have no idea what I’m going to do. I only know I have to do something.

“She’ll stay quiet,” Reggie says in an eerily calm voice. “She won’t jeopardize her sister.”

“Yes,” Wade’s eyes flicker with sinister intent. “Your sister.”

Rage and panic clash in my chest. “Don’t hurt her.” It’s all I can manage to say.

They pause only a moment, staring down at me, before they leave. The double-doors of the bathroom slam, and I hear the rope being tied around the handles. Despair fills my chest as the tears start to fall. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get to Ava.

23

SABOTAGE

Rowan

RACE DAY DAWNS hot and bright. My spirits dim slightly as I look up at the cloudless sky.

“It would have been better if it were overcast,” Cal says, reading my mind.

We’re walking quickly to the track, and I’m going over the course, the system I’ve worked out for managing the curves, the braking, the slowing, and the flying into the straights full-throttle.

“The tunnel will be the hardest,” I agree, thinking of the plunge into darkness followed by the immediate blinding white light.

“You’re moving so fast at that point. Follow your instincts.”

As we pass the other racers, we nod, shake hands with some. All are tense and jumpy. In my chest is a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Anything can happen on the track.

Fayed’s team is the last group we encounter, and he steps forward grinning. “Good luck today, my friend!” He shakes my hand vigorously. “It was a lucky break getting pole position.”

Our times around the track were identical, but officials gave him the coveted spot owing to his years on the circuit.

“Apparently there’s an advantage to doing nothing but racing all the time,” Cal says, crossing his arms.

“Don’t be bitter, my friend Cal,” Fayed slaps my brother’s arm. “It will even out on the track.”

My brow is lowered, but I give him a nod. “Have a good race.”

A few more paces, and we’re at my car. Cal is at my side reassuring me. “I’ve personally gone over everything. The car is in peak performance. It’s all up to you now.”

Reaching in my pocket, I close my hand around the gold bracelet Ava gave me. I haven’t heard from her since Friday, and while we discussed this short separation, I long to hear her voice. She didn’t return my call last night.

“Have you talked to Zelda today?” His expression changes only briefly, but it’s enough to put me on edge. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” He clears his throat. “We’ve been so slammed with meetings and race prep, I haven’t been able to call her. She’s not answering my texts.”

My throat tightens. Here we are, a half-hour before the race begins, and I can’t find Ava. Cal hasn’t spoken to Zee. If they left the country…

I’ll just fucking go after her.

“See what you can find out,” I say, my voice rough as I pull on my helmet. It’s time for our reconnaissance lap.

Cal’s strong hand closes over my shoulder; his hazel eyes flash as he shouts over the noise of the engines. “Drive like you’ve been doing the last few weeks, and we’ll worry about the rest later.”

Nodding, I give him the thumbs up and pull onto the track. One by one, we’ll make a slow lap around the course, stopping at our place on the grid. Fayed is in the lead, but I’m right behind him.

As we cover the course, my mind is on Ava. The weekend so far has been a success. The queen has agreed to support my deal, and every Member of Parliament I’ve spoken to has come onboard. Only two things are left—winning the race and Ava.

My focus sharpens as we reach the first hairpin, and my senses lock onto the car. The steering is sensitive to any movement, and in all my practices, I’ve felt immediate response. Taking the sharp corner, I notice a lag. It’s the right front wheel.

Now I’m anxious to get back to the pit. Cal said he checked everything, but either a brace has come loose or an arm is failing.

We’re coming down the final straight right into the tunnel, and all at once, I’m plunged into darkness. Blinking fast, I try to adjust my eyes. I hold the steering wheel steady, feeling the lag in that fucking right front, when just as fast, white light dazzles my eyes. Hold steady.

One final hairpin on the cliff above the ocean. I’m not pushing like I normally do for fear that tire will fly off into my windshield or one of my competitors’. This isn’t happening right now. We slow into the grid, and I’m out of the cockpit in seconds waving for Cal.

Instantly, he’s running across the track, the team right behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“Right front.” I’m breathing hard. “It’s lagging, pulling to the center.”

A crewmember I don’t recognize dives under the chassis screwdriver in hand. I frown and look to my brother.

“Came over from Heinrick’s team. Highly recommended.” I nod, adjusting the tear offs on my visor.

“Stripped lug nut,” the man says, climbing out and tossing up the silver piece as he runs for the pit. “Be right back.”

We’ve got less than ten minutes. Fayed glances back to me, his brow lined. I give him the thumbs up as our newest crewmember finishes his work.

“Feel good?” Cal asks, massaging my shoulder. “You look good.”

“Once I’m ahead of him, I’ll be better.”

The one-minute signal is shown, and Cal slaps my back before heading off the track. We start our formation lap, zigzagging back and forth, pumping the brakes. I’m heating up the tires, getting the engine hot, paying close attention to that right front.

“How’s it feeling?” Cal’s in my helmet now, and we’ll communicate throughout the race.

“So far so good,” I say, continuing to brake and rev the engine.

“Your temps are good.”

We’re back in the grid, and I pull into my space. We’re all watching the lights, and the tension is razor sharp. Everything slows, I feel my breath going in… and out.

The lights disappear, and I hit the accelerator hard, shooting out as close on Fayed’s tail as I can get.

“Great start!” Cal says in my helmet. “It’s a two-man race!”

Seventy-eight laps to go, and it will be over. I’ve got ninety minutes to catch him, take the lead, then maintain my fastest time putting him far in my rearview mirror. After that, I can relax into the close.

Zelda

Blinking my crusty eyes, I try to orient myself to the time. No one has come to check on me since I was locked in this room. No noises come from the other side of the door. I haven’t gotten any food, and I drink water from the tap. At least I can use the bathroom. I push up to sit against the wall and wait, holding my fingers to my eyes, trying to think, trying not to cry.

Hours pass at a glacial pace. I wonder what’s happening with Ava. Reggie texted her that I’m with Cal, which was sinister and genius. She won’t worry about me, and she probably won’t even call or text me back for fear of interrupting us. Fresh tears heat my eyes at the thought. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to warn them.

For the second time, I pull myself off the floor and try the doors. The rope is so tight around the handles, they don’t budge. I try to push them forward, and nothing happens. I try to pull them to me, and it’s the same. Dropping my hands, I beat my head against them as the hot tears line my cheeks.

If I scream, Wade or Reggie might come. I don’t know if that finger threat was a scare tactic or if he would really cut me. I don’t want to find out.

Leaning against the doors, I feel utterly defeated and completely desperate. Staggering back to the wall, I slide down to a sitting position and wait, my hope almost gone.

My cheek is against the cold tile when I wake again. A high-pitched buzzing noise like an enormous swarm of bees fills the air. My forehead lines, and I try to get my bearings. I’m stiff all over as I move to sit up. Did I sleep all night? I reach for the light switch and turn it off. Sunlight shines through the cracks in the door, and I realize it must be Sunday.

The buzzing doesn’t stop, and with a shuddering breath, I know what it is. The race has started.

“Oh, god!” I whisper, pacing the small room. I wrap my arms around my waist and try to calm my shaking insides.

The grand prix is less than two hours total. I have even less time to find a way out of here, to find a way to the track, to find Cal, and to get Rowan out of that car. Tears are in my eyes as I realize it’s impossible.

“I’ll never make it,” I say in a broken whisper.

No! I have to try. I press my ear to the door and listen. Other than the noise of the cars, I hear nothing from the room. Grasping the door handles, I pull and push them with all my strength.

“Reggie?” I say it only a little louder than normal volume at first.

No response.

I pull the handles harder, forcing them to move as I call louder. “Reggie! I need your help! Reggie!”

It’s a lie. I don’t want Reggie to come. I hope he’s gone. I hope he and Wade are both far from here, somewhere at the track where they can grow complacent, thinking their evil plan will succeed.

I stop and wait, listening. Several more minutes of silence pass, and I’m convinced I’m the only one in this room. Bolstered by this conviction, I grasp the door handles as hard as I can and throw my weight against them. They don’t budge.

“Fuck!” I scream, jerking them to me as I throw all my weight in the opposite direction. “Open you mother fuckers!” I scream, running at them with all my might. It’s like hitting a wall.

I’m on my knees again, trembling and crying, still holding the door. I’m too weak, and I can’t get these damn doors open. I can’t help them. My fingers slip off the silver handles, and I collapse on all fours, my forehead pressed against my hands on the tile.

It’s quiet outside this little prison. The buzzing of the engines continues like the running down of a giant timer. My heart aches as I think of Rowan, as I think of Ava if Rowan is killed. She’ll be devastated. They’re going to blame Cal. A cramp hits my stomach, and I ball my fists. I can’t let this happen!

Climbing up slowly, I’m ready to start pulling and pushing again when something hits the door with a loud SMACK! I jump back with a cry, eyes wide. Are they here? I scramble to the back wall.

“Reggie?” I call, my voice shaking. Fisting my hands, I shove them again under my arms. That Wade fucker will not cut off my fingers! My eyes fly around the room looking for anything I can use to defend myself. They cleaned everything out of here before locking me inside. I don’t even have a cup.

My mind lights when I see the back of the toilet. Quietly, I lift the heavy ceramic cover from the tank and hold it like a bat over my shoulder. The doors continue to shake, moving back and forth, and I hear what sounds like sawing.

“Reggie?” I say again, a little more confidence in my tone. “Is that you?”

Moving carefully, I step to the side where I expect a head to appear. My only chance is to swing this slab of porcelain as hard as I can in the direction of his head.

A loud thud lets me know the ropes have broken. My heart seizes in my chest, and my arms quiver with fear. It’s now or never. The doors fly open, and I scream as loud as I can while swinging the toilet lid with all my might.

“Zelda!” A voice shouts, catching the side of the lid and deflecting it away.

It flies from my hands and cracks into two large pieces on the floor tiles. I’m about to make a dive for one of them when my arm is jerked back roughly, and I turn to find myself face to face with…

“Seth!” I whisper-shriek.

“God dammit, Zelda!” He barks, pulling me out of the bathroom. “What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?”

“Yes!” I say, shaking all over. “I thought you were Reggie. Or Wade!”

“Come on—we don’t have time.” He starts out of the bedroom, but I’m hesitant to follow him.

“Why are you here?”

He lunges back and grabs my arm, dragging me behind him as he runs into the living room of the empty suite and heads for the door.

“I called you three times yesterday!” He opens the door a crack and peeks out only a moment before flinging it wide and charging us both through it.

We’re running for the elevator as he continues. “When you didn’t answer, I decided to come here and investigate.”

“W-why?” I’m trying to catch my breath.

“You owe me five thousand dollars,” he barks, hitting the button for the lobby. “I’m not letting you skip town without paying.”

“Oh my god.” I collapse against the walls of the elevator, my insides flooding with a mixture of relief and panic. “But… how did you find me?”

He’s digging in his backpack. “I was on my way to your room when I spotted that French guy from Miami. Put these on.” He shoves a pair of Toms at me, and I slip my feet into them. “He was coming out of the room where I found you. Did that motherfucker beat you up?”

I turn and let out a hissing sound when I see myself in the mirrored wall. My cheek is bluish-purple, my lip is split, and my teeth and knuckles are covered in blood.

“It was his partner,” I say, carefully touching my cheek. “Wade Paxton.”

“We’ll have to stop in the lobby bathroom—”

“NO!” I shout, my panic growing fiercer. “We’ve got to get to the track!”

“Are you crazy? It’s a fucking mob out there. We’ll never make it to the track. We’ve got to get to the airport.”

“You don’t understand, Seth! We’ve got to stop that race!”

“If the cops see you looking like this, they’ll arrest us.”

That makes me think… The police could help us faster than anyone. They could stop the race! But Wade threatened to kill Ava if I did anything.

“Where’s Ava?”

“My guess is she’s at the race—most likely in the royal box based on the company she’s been keeping.”

“Give me your phone!” We’re at the lobby, and the elevator doors open. A crowd of people fills the space, and the buzzing noise of the engines is louder than ever. I can barely hear myself think.

“The course runs right in front of the hotel,” he shouts. “It’s the famous hairpin curve.”

He takes my hand, leading me to the back entrance. We’re facing the ocean, and the noises are like zippers going high to low as car after car goes from full speed to near stopping as they negotiate the 180-degree turn.

“Your phone!” I shout. “Give me your phone!”

“Those guys will kill you, Zee. We’ve got to get out of the country.”

“Ava’s in danger! GIVE ME YOUR PHONE!”

Finally, he shoves the device in my hand, and I dial her number. I’m pacing, trembling all over as it rings and rings. “Answer the phone, Ava!” I shout.

Pressing the end button, I immediately try again. Same result. “Dammit, Ava!” Then I realize.

Switching to text, I quickly type: It’s me, Zee! Answer the phone! I need you to hurry! Rowan’s in danger! 911! 911!

Immediately the phone rings in my hand. “Ava!” I cry.

“Zee!” Her voice is frantic. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

“Stop talking and listen to me. Where are you?”

“I got your text, and since I was alone, I decided to walk around the streets. I ran into Felicity, and she has a pit pass. Only I didn’t want to bother Rowan—”

“That’s good! Can you get in touch with him?”

“I don’t think so. He’s in the race. I missed his call last night—”

“Ava, listen to me! You have to get to him. It’s life or death!”

“What’s happening, Zee?” Her voice is tight. “What’s going on?”

Blinking hard, I scrub my forehead, thinking. I need my damn phone! “Is Felicity there? Ask her if she has Cal’s number!”

Her phone moves away, and I hear her speaking to Felicity. “Five five four, eight two seven seven.”

“I’ll call you right back.” Hitting end, my fingers shake as I enter the digits for Cal’s phone. Again, it rings and rings, and I immediately end the call, knowing I’ve got to text him.

Again, I send the same 911 message I sent to Ava, but this time the phone doesn’t ring back immediately. “Come on, Cal… Come on!” I’m pacing, shaking the phone. Seth is watching me, frowning and rubbing his chin.

“What’s going on, Zee?” His voice calmer. “Let me help you.”

I send the same text to Cal again, and as I hit send, I tell him. “Reggie—the French guy—brought us here to do a con on the crown prince. Only the con was on us. He used us to get him back in the country so he could do his own deal. They’ve sabotaged Rowan’s car…” My voice cracks, and I feel the tears coming. “They’re trying to kill him!”

As I’m saying the words, the phone vibrates in my hand. I do a little shriek as I press the green button. “Cal!” I cry, covering my face with my hand.

“Zee, where are you? I was worried—”

“Is Rowan okay? Can you get to him?”

“He’s on the track…”

“You’ve got to stop the race, Cal! You’ve got to get Rowan out of that car!”

“What?” I hear the disbelief in his tone, and I almost lose it. “He’s in the lead, Zee. He’s going to win it!”

“He’s going to die!” I’m screaming. “Reggie’s working with Wade Paxton! They sabotaged Rowan’s car! You’ve got to get him out of it!”

“Zelda… I checked the car myself. It’s all good.”

“You’ve got to believe me, Cal! They’re going to blame you for it!”

Silence fills the line. The noise of the cars is louder than ever, and with every rip of an engine, my heart shudders.

“Please, Cal,” I say, my voice breaking. “Just trust me!’

“Let me see what I can do.”

The line goes dead, and I collapse to a sitting position on the back steps of the hotel. My face is in my hands, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Glancing up, I see Seth returning from the water. I vaguely remember him walking away while I talked to Cal. Now he’s back, carrying a damp tee.

“I might be able to get us to the track.”

Blinking up, my eyes go round. “How?”

He hands me the wet shirt. “Clean your face. I’ll call Lara Westingroot.”

“The lady from the yacht?” I frown. “Why would she help us?”

“Not us, me.” He gives me a wink. “How do you think I even got on that yacht?”

“I never thought about it.” Seth has always had a knack for getting into any venue he wanted. Anyway, that night on the yacht had taken so many unexpected turns.

Seth chuckles. “Let’s just say she barks like a baby seal when she comes.”

My nose wrinkles. “Too much information.” I hand his phone back, and he starts dialing, motioning for me to follow him.

24

RUNNING

Rowan

A BEAD of sweat rolls from my temple down the side of my face. My arms are exhausted, and that fucking right wheel is pulling again. I’m not as far ahead of Fayed as I need to be to make a pit stop. He’ll retake the lead, and we’ve only four laps to go. Everything is focused on these final laps. One mistake could cost me the race.

“Ro, we have an issue,” Cal is in my helmet. “It’s possible your car has been sabotaged. I need you to bring it in.”

“What? NO!” I can’t come off the track at this point. “You checked it yourself!”

“I don’t know how. It’s possibly what’s causing the cornering problem.”

I feel a jerk to the right as I’m flying down the straight, and a quick look in my mirror shows Fayed right behind me. “I’m almost finished. I can make it.”

Downshifting quickly, I hit the brakes as we take a tight corner. The wheel jerks in my hands and I hear a ping. No, I think straightening out of the turn and slamming the throttle down. We shoot into the straight, the tunnel looming just ahead. Plunge into blackness; blinding white on the other side. The stands pass so fast, they’re a blur of color, and all I can think is I’m there. I’m hitting the top speeds. I’ve completed seventy-four laps, and I’m not quitting now. Victory is in my grasp.

Flying through the starting line, I don’t hesitate. I pass the pit starting the seventy-fifth lap. Cal’s in my ear again.

“Ro! I need you to bring it in NOW!”

Reaching up, my hand hovers over my headpiece. I don’t turn it off, but I don’t respond either. I’m coming up on the first of nineteen corners. Another downshift, another slam on the brakes, another groan from the front chassis. Only three more laps.

My speed drops from four hundred kilometers per hour all the way down to forty through the hairpin. One more curve, and I feel a slip in control. I feel the frame starting to give.

“Rowan?” The voice in my head now is not Cal’s. My chest tightens when I hear her. I’ve been dreaming about her all night. “Ro, it’s Ava. Please come in. Please.”

“Where are you?” I say, easing off the accelerator as I take the next curve. Again the wheel vibrates hard.

“I’m in the pit. Felicity gave me her pass.”

Shit. I’m on the straight, and the pedal is to the floor. My speed tops out at two ninety-three then plunge into darkness. The wheel shakes again. The car jerks to the right, and I’m dangerously close to the wall. Blinding white light hits me as I try to correct. My muscles flex as I fight with the steering column. I’m off the track, my speed goes all the way down.

Fuck! Shifting, I guide the car back onto the lanes. I’m one curve away from the pit, and I know I have to bring it in. I have to do it for Ava.

Fayed’s coming out of the tunnel as I pull back onto the asphalt. He flies past, and my chest tightens. We have to move at lightening speed if I’m going to catch him again.

I’m around the curve and pulling into the pit, the crew surrounds me in a swarm. Tires off, they check the chassis. Cal’s right with them, and I see the moment his face pales.

His head drops against his forearm, then he looks up at me. “The front arm is completely severed.”

I’m out of the cockpit in seconds, running to see what he’s seeing. He points to the damaged suspension. “Looks like it was bashed with a club. It’s been a time bomb waiting to go off. You could’ve been killed.”

“It’s over.” My shoulders fall, and I scrub my fingers over my brow. “FUCK!” I shout, slamming my helmet into the cockpit. Fists on my forehead, I blink out at the cars roaring past. Only two laps to go…

Cal walks around to where I’m standing, his brow lined. “This happened after qualifying. Who had access to the parc fermé?”

We both look to the crew. One person is missing. “Heinrick’s guy?”

“Impossible. Heinrick wouldn’t send someone to hurt you.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.” I’m still looking toward the crew when I spot the one person able to bring me back, green eyes full of worry—Ava.

Leaving Cal beside the car, I cross the space. She’s out of the gated area and running to me, her navy sleeveless dress moves in the breeze.

When we meet, I rest my forehead against hers, sliding my palms down her cheeks, to the sides of her neck. Her hand goes into the back of my damp hair; the other touches my cheek, and our eyes close as we breathe each other’s air. My insides unclench.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been hurt.”

The fury in my chest eases. Lifting my chin, I kiss her forehead before looking into her beautiful eyes. I’m ready to ask her now, right this moment, but we only have this moment before the mob of reporters surrounds us.

“Your royal highness!” one yells. “Why did you pull out of the race when you were winning?”

Two more shout, “We’ve heard rumors of possible tampering with your vehicle!”

“Is it too soon to suggest a possible assassination attempt?”

I hear over the noise Fayed won the race, and my lips press into a frown. Touching Cal on the shoulder, I lean into his ear. “I’m passing this baton to you.”

He nods, and my hand is on Ava’s lower back. I hope to guide her through the confusion, through the restricted area beneath stands, and to my waiting limo. My plans for the beautiful woman at my side can continue at Occitan.

“Oh, wait! It’s Zelda!” Ava takes off, out of my grasp into the crowd.

“Ava, stop!” I’m calling after her, but I know if I enter the fray, I’ll be mobbed.

I call to her again, when I hear a sharp noise. It’s popping like firecrackers, or the noise of a car backfiring.

Ava’s face changes a moment. She looks confused… just before she drops like a stone.

“AVA!” My voice is a roar as I run to where she’s fallen.

My brain registers it was a gunshot, and all of it—losing the race, the damaged car, the mob of bystanders, everything disappears in the face of losing Ava.

I’m throwing bodies aside as the crowd disperses around me. People are screaming and falling to the ground, or running from where my beautiful Ava lies on in a heap, her eyes closed.

Zelda

“NOOO!!!!” I scream as I see Ava’s green eyes change from joy to horror. She falls so fast. She’s on the ground like a rag doll, and people scatter in all directions away from her like oil fleeing a drop of water.

As I run to her, I notice another figure in a red jumpsuit also running in my direction. It’s Rowan. We meet at my sister, and he has her in his arms before I can breathe.

“Follow me!” he shouts, heading toward the stands.

I’m right behind him, but I’m looking everywhere over my shoulder. I know who did this, and I’m afraid it’s not over. They could be anywhere, aiming for us right this second.

“Run, Rowan! Run!” I shout. “Faster!”

We’re through the metal door into the restricted area beneath the stands, and I push the doors closed behind us.

“Paramedics are here.” He’s at a red phone, dialing zero, but I see his fingers tremble. “The best emergency response crews in the country are on hand in case of an accident.”

I’m at Ava’s side, holding her hand. “Hang on, Ava-bug!” My voice breaks. My throat hurts and tears blur my eyes. She’s ghastly pale, and blood soaks the navy dress she’s wearing. “Don’t die on me, Ava-bug! Please… Please, Ava-bug…”

My whole body is shaking. I’m searching all over for where they hit her when I’m shoved out of the way, and paramedics surround my sister.

Rowan is at my side, and I look up to see his jaw clenched. His eyes are wild, and I know it’s taking all his power to stay back and let them work.

Plastic bags and tubes are drawn out and run to her body. I grip his arm as they move her onto a hard plastic stretcher.

“She’s losing blood,” a woman says, shoving a card at me. “We’re taking her to Memorial East.”

As fast as they appeared, they’re rushing her out the door, into an ambulance and speeding away.

“NO!” I scream, running after them.

“Zelda! This way!” Rowan runs in the direction of a side door, and I’m right behind him.

Hajib has the car waiting, and we’re in it, driving as quickly as possible after the ambulance.

IT FEELS like hours pass before a female doctor with short brown hair comes out to tell us what’s happening.

“Majesté,” she does a little bow to Rowan. “Bonjour.”

“Comment est-elle?” he says quickly.

“La dame est bien—”

“English, please!” I practically shriek, startling them both.

“Pardon!” The doctor says in a thick French accent. “I did not realize…”

“Will she be okay?” I plead.

The woman continues almost too quickly for me to follow through her accent. “She lost a lot of blood, so she’s very weak. The bullet passed cleanly through her upper arm just missing her brachial artery. I stitched up the wound, and we’re monitoring her vitals. She’s very lucky it did not hit her heart.”

My head goes light, and I’m sure I’ll faint. Rowan catches me, helping me to a nearby chair. Bodyguards have cordoned off the area, so it’s only the three of us in the waiting room. The doctor tells Rowan something I don’t understand and disappears down the hall.

Overhead a television blasts in French. I read the subtitles explaining how the entire country is on high alert following two suspected assassination attempts on the crown prince at today’s race.

Police have set up a tip line. The words tighten my chest.

Police are searching for anyone who knows anything about this attack. If you saw anything or know who might be behind this, call…

My mind is racing. I know who’s behind this, and they know I know. How long before they track me down? I’m the only witness outside their group who can testify against them, who can expose them all.

“Cal is with the men examining the car,” Rowan says, misinterpreting my dark expression. “Otherwise, he’d be here with you.”

Cal… Another pain in my heart. I won’t see him again…

“He’s okay?” I ask.

“He just sent me a text. He couldn’t reach your phone.”

“My phone was… taken.”

We don’t speak for several moments as the television continues in French. A nurse approaches us and does a slight bow. Her voice is also accented.

“Do you know the young lady’s next of kin?”

“Me,” I stand quickly, going to her. “I’m her sister, Zelda Wilder.”

I don’t miss the way Rowan looks at me.

“Very good.” The nurse hands me a clipboard. “I need you to fill out these forms as soon as you can.”

I take the clipboard and turn to face the truth. Rowan is straight in his chair, his blue eyes fixed on me.

“I need to tell you something,” I say, glancing down at the papers. “I don’t have a lot of time. Do you think… do you think it’s possible you can listen to what I have to say without asking questions? Even if it sounds ugly at first?”

“I won’t promise anything.” Rowan’s voice is tense, anger just below the surface. I’m on the verge of tears.

“Ava is my sister,” I say, clearing my throat. “We lied about her being my friend. I thought it would keep her safe. I didn’t know the person who brought us here had his own agenda.”

Rowan stands, and his hands are on his hips. “Is this about my uncle, the duke?”

I take a deep breath and walk past him to sit in the chair again. I’m not sure I can say this standing.

“I met Sir Reginald Winchester in Miami… at a casino. He hired me to come here and pretend to be an heiress, to seduce you. He said he wanted to humiliate you, to prove you weren’t fit to be king.”

I’m afraid to look up. I can’t bear to see his face as I say this. “I brought Ava with me because I never leave her behind. Our parents are dead, and it’s always been up to me to take care of us. We’ve been on our own since we were kids.”

Rowan still doesn’t speak. When I dare to glance up at him, his jaw is set, and a gleam of anger is in his eyes. My insides crumble.

“I’m telling you this because I’m so sorry, Rowan.” I fight the tears. “As soon as I met you, I knew Reggie had lied to us. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in the original job anymore. He’s been working with Wade Paxton. He used us as a distraction, a smoke screen to help him get back in the country. He was behind the sabotage of your car, and he had Ava shot… I’m next. I know too much about his plans. He’s going to kill us both.”

Rowan’s hands lower, and I see them clench into fists. Ice-cold fury is in his voice. “Reggie did this.”

He leaves me with that, and I watch as he crosses the room to one of the men standing guard. They speak in French, in low voices, and the man’s eyes harden. He nods, speaking into his cuff before turning and striding quickly to the elevator. Rowan stays in the space where the man was a few moments longer, and I watch as his chin drops.

He takes a few deep breaths before returning to me. Anger is still in his eyes, and I swallow hard, summoning every bit of strength I have left to do this one last thing. I have to get this promise before I run.

Standing, I meet him halfway. “I only have one thing… one request.”

“Zelda—”

“I know you hate me. I know you’re going to throw me out, but if you would please, please, Rowan… Take care of Ava. Please believe me, she would never be here if it weren’t for me.”

“She lied to me.”

“Only to protect me.” My eyes heat, and I feel the pressure in my chest growing tighter. “You have to understand. Not being able to tell you the truth was breaking her heart. I’ve never seen her so happy… or so miserable.”

His expression is closed, and I do the only thing I can think to do before a king. Dropping to my knees, I’m not ashamed to beg him. I look up at Rowan’s eyes, and the anger has been replaced with confusion.

“You love her, don’t you?” I’m taking a chance, but I have to do this for my sister.

He only pauses a moment, his blue eyes traveling around my face. Another beat, and he nods. “I do.”

The slightest glimmer of hope encourages me on.

“She loves you.” I take a shaky inhale. “I promised her I’d always take care of her, but now… after all that’s happened, I realize I’m putting her in danger. Only you can keep her safe now.”

His lips press together a moment. He pauses again before answering me. “I intend to ask her to marry me.”

My eyes slide closed as relief surges through my body. “You’ll make her so happy.”

“She’s made me so happy.”

Blinking fast, I rise to my feet. “I have to go. This is just the beginning. I know what they’ve done and who’s involved. They’re coming for me.”

“No—you can’t leave. We’ll protect you—”

“Don’t you understand? They’ve been planning this for years! They’re way ahead of us. You saw how fast they got to Ava. They had a gunman at the track before I even got there.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.” Rowan’s voice is a low command. “We’ll find them.”

“The way you found the person who sabotaged your car?”

Anger burns in his eyes, and I know he’s hearing me. I’m petrified with fear, but I have to get as far away from this place, from Ava, as I can. My insides tremble at the memory of what Wade Paxton promised to do to me. After all I’ve seen, I’m sure he wasn’t bluffing now. I only hope I can stay ahead of them.

“Seth is waiting. He’ll help me hide.”

“Seth?”

Shaking my head, we don’t have time. “I owe him money. Ava can explain it to you. Thank you, Rowan. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for what I did, for helping them. One day I hope I can make it up—”

He takes a step forward. “But what about Cal?”

Those words rip through my stomach. As painful as everything I’ve endured in the last twenty-four hours, this question has the power to gut me.

“Please tell him I said goodbye.” Tears thicken my throat. “He deserves someone better than me.”

Turning away, I run to the elevator before he can stop me or see me break down. I’m in the small box, hiding in the corner by the control panel, pressing the L button over and over as the doors close.

In the mirrored walls I see my bruised cheek. It’s nothing compared to my battered heart. Zelda Wilder is no princess. The closest I am is a dirty Cinderella, an orphan on the run, and that’s not the kind of girl for a prince.

The door opens in the lobby, and standing there in dark jeans and a long-sleeved navy sweater is Seth. His amber brow arches, and our blue eyes meet.

“Ready?” he says.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Come on, then. Let’s go.”

I take his hand and follow him to the waiting cab. He pays the man and says one word: airport. Fishing in my pockets, I find the door card to our room at the Fairmont and the black American Express. It’s a small relief.

“Thought you might need this,” he says.

I look down, and he’s holding the green ambassador’s visa Reggie gave me.

“How did you get this?” I ask.

“I went back to your room and looked around.”

My eyes narrow at the thought of him snooping in our stuff. “See anything interesting?”

“Not much.”

Shaking my head, I return my gaze out the window to the passing traffic. Ava will be safe now and live happily ever after with her handsome prince. I won’t let myself think about Cal. I’ve got to get as far away as possible, keep running, and hope the bad guys never catch me.

25

PLANS

Rowan

AS SOON AS the elevator doors close, I speak to my chief security guard. “Keep me informed where she goes.”

“Yes, your grace.” He steps to the side to make the call, and I go to the room where Ava is recovering.

My promise to Zelda had been easy to make. Her words confirmed everything Ava already told me our very first night together at the Paris Hotel. The only thing she left out was Zelda is her sister—although, she’d actually told me that, too. I understand now she was trying to tell me everything that night, but she couldn’t betray Zee.

Now it’s time for me to become her security. I’ve been ready to assume that role since the night I swore to avenge her past. Her beautiful eyes blink open, and protective warmth surges in my chest. I sit at her bedside, taking her hand in mine and lifting her knuckles to my lips.

“How are you feeling, my beautiful lady?”

Her voice cracks when she answers. “What happened?”

I hesitate, not wanting to frighten her. “I don’t have an easy way to say this… You were shot.”

I see her pulse quicken on the monitor. Her fear stokes my anger at the men who did this.

“But… Who? Why?” she says.

“Your sister thinks it was to keep her silent, to warn her against telling what she knows.”

Ava’s eyes widen, and she starts to pull away. “You know about Zee?”

My grip tightens on her hand. “Zelda told me the truth, and I promised her I’d protect you. My entire secret service is searching for Reginald Winchester. When we find him, he’ll wish he were dead.”

“Reggie did this?” Her brow wrinkles. “But… I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want you to worry,” I say, gently, but she struggles to sit straighter.

“Rowan—is Zee okay? Where is she?”

“She left with a man named Seth. She said you could explain. Who is he?”

“Seth?” Ava exhales the word, and her chin drops. I watch as she rubs her forehead. “She went with Seth? Willingly?”

“She said she owes him money.” Standing, I start to call my security team. “I can stop them if he’s dangerous—”

“No,” Ava shakes her head. “If she wanted to go with him, she must have a plan. I just… I can’t believe she left me behind.”

It’s not what I want to hear. Returning to her bedside, I take her hand again. “Ava, I want to take care of you. Zee asked me to protect you, and I was glad to say yes.”

Her pale cheeks blossom, but she’s still quiet, thinking. I’m about to tell her everything I want for us when a noise in the lobby interrupts me.

“Where are they?” Cal bursts into the room and pauses at the end of the bed. “Ava—are you okay? I came as soon as I could get away from those damn reporters.”

“I’m a little weak…” she begins.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” I say, explaining to her as well as to my brother what the doctor said. “The gunman was aiming for your chest. You were moving so fast, he missed by inches.”

Her eyes slide closed, and my jaw tightens. I lift her fingers to my lips. “My men are searching for the gunman now. He will pay for this.”

“Jesus,” Cal hisses, walking around the room. “For what it’s worth, Hampton De Clare called Mother,” he says quietly.

“The King of Totrington?” I glance up at his face.

“They’re searching for Wade Paxton. Supposedly, he’s a ‘person of interest.’”

“Is that so?” My voice is low, and I can’t hide my disbelief. “Hampton has been silently funding Wade’s efforts since before Father died. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what that dog was doing.”

“And now the dog is off the leash.” Cal looks around. “Where’s Zelda?”

My lips tighten. “She left.”

“Left?” His eyes flash at me. “What the hell does that mean?”

“She said she was afraid to stay. She said the reason they shot Ava was to keep her from talking.”

“And you let her go?” He’s out the door, and I give Ava’s hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be right back.” I’m two steps behind my brother. “I have a man watching her…”

I wait as he speaks to one of the guards. “I’m taking two of your men,” he says, typing quickly on his phone. “Freddie and Logan. I’ll have them meet me at the airport with my gear.”

“You’re going after her?”

“Fucking right I am. Where is she headed?”

“Miami,” a soft voice behind us says.

I turn to see Ava is out of her bed, trying to follow us. She’s holding the monitor with one hand and the back of her hospital gown with the other. One more step, and her face pales. Her legs give out, and I’m across the room in a flash, catching her in my arms.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” I soothe, carrying her to the room with Cal’s help.

Once she’s settled, my brother touches her arm gently. “Ava? Did you mean to say Texas?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Seth would go to Miami first.”

I see the confusion on Cal’s face, and I realize he’s still in the dark. “I can explain—”

“Save it for the plane.” He’s already at the door.

“Cal!” Ava sits forward, reaching out to him. He pauses and returns to take her hand. I see her swallow back tears. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

The muscle in his jaw moves, and his hazel eyes burn with determination. “I promise you. I won’t come back without her.”

I step to the door to watch him leave.

“Email me everything you know,” he says before stepping into the elevator. “Fill me in on what I’ve missed.”

“I will. Be careful, brother.”

The doors close, and I return to Ava. Sitting beside her on the bed, she rests her dark head against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her body to mine.

Dropping my chin, I kiss the top of her head, speaking in a low voice. “When he returns with your sister, I will make you my queen.”

Her body tenses, and she looks up at me. “What?”

I smile down at her. “Your ring is at Occitan. I had hoped to propose to you tonight by the ocean, but I’m afraid to wait any longer. I don’t know what might happen next.”

“But… Are you saying—?”

“Will you marry me, Ava Wilder?”

She blinks several times, and a little laugh erupts from her chest. “You want to marry me? … Me?”

“If you would you consider being my wife, you would make me very happy.”

“Consider it!” She grasps my arms in both hands. “Consider it? I’ve dreamed of it ever since I met you. I couldn’t bear thinking of Zee with you. Thank goodness Cal—”

“Is that a yes?” I lower my head to kiss her cheek, which immediately moves in a rapid nod.

“Yes!” Despite her pallor, her face seems to glow. “Yes, yes, yes!”

My heart swells, and I cup her cheeks with my hands. Looking deep into her eyes, I say the words I’ve been thinking for so long. “I love you, Ava. I want to make you mine.”

“I’m already yours,” she whispers, eyes shining. “I’ve been yours since that first night.”

Our mouths collide, and I push her lips apart so our tongues can slide together. She presses forward, and I hold her close, sliding my palms down her soft hair to her lower back. I want to pull her onto my lap and make love to her beautiful soul.

Breaking apart, I speak in her ear. “The doctor said you should recover quickly.”

“It’s already taking too long,” she purrs, and I almost groan.

Another kiss, our lips chasing each other’s in hungry motions until I lift my head. Her forehead rests against my neck, and her fingers lightly touch my collar as I hold her, loving how she feels in my arms.

As complete as I feel in this moment, worry tightens my stomach. If Zelda is right, the chain of events set in motion today is vast and deadly. I’m furious these political players tried to hurt my Ava. I will make them suffer for their crimes, but I can’t forget their target is me.

Cal is on his way to the airport. He’s taking two of my best guards with him. As former military, the three of them have both the weapons and the training to bring her safely home.

Zelda Wilder might think she’s on her own, but we’ll find her. We’ll find the people who did this, and I will personally oversee their punishment.

Then we’ll have a week of celebration, culminating in a royal wedding.

This story isn’t over…

EPILOGUE

HUNTING

MacCallum Lockwood Tate

THE ENORMOUS JET touches down in the midst of a blinding Miami rainstorm. Powering off my laptop, I look out the window at the palm trees swaying in the wind as we taxi, and my mind drifts to the last time I saw Zee.

She was asleep in her bed at the Fairmont Hotel. Her blue eyes closed, a thick, pale blonde curl lay across her cheek, and her adorable mouth was relaxed. Still, I could hear her sassy voice, imagine the sparkle in her blue eyes as she taunted me. It made me laugh softly, and I’d wanted to wake her. I’d wanted to hear her voice and make love to her, but I had to get to the track.

Instead, I left her a note, telling her how amazing our night had been, starting with that fuck on the boat—jesus! I gave her my heart that time… Followed by that ice-cold, unexpected swim.

Watching the wind batter the palms, I shake my head. It all makes sense now—her panic, the reason she ran that night, her fear of being caught. I remember my shock at seeing her going out the window. Of course I went right after her. Just like I’m going after her now.

During the twelve-hour flight, I caught up on everything I’ve missed. Rowan emailed me explaining what Zelda said, what Ava told him—how Reggie found them in a casino in Miami, how he threatened them unless they helped with his plan to oust my brother, how they discovered it was all a ruse. Reggie used them to get back into the country so he could continue his plan to seize control of the government.

I confess, I’m surprised by how far our uncle is willing to go—to kill his own family—in order to ensure the success of his plans. My chest tightens when I realize how dangerous this situation is for Zelda. If these men won’t back down from killing the crown prince, removing Zelda will be like swatting a fly.

She’s the only person who can directly tie them to the crimes, and I intend to find her and take her back to Monagasco.

Rowan also let me know Wade Paxton has gone off the grid. Even though he’s been stripped of his title, we have no reason to believe he’s lost his power or his connections. If he’s been planning this for years, Zelda’s right—we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And we have to watch our backs. It makes finding her even more urgent. At home I can keep her safe. I can keep her by my side.

We lost track of her once she and Seth landed in Miami, but Ava gave us two possible starting points—a woman named Helen Regis and a Ramada Hollywood Downtown. I have the address, and it’s where we plan to start.

The plane finally stops moving, and a low tone sounds in the cabin. The lights flicker on, and we all stand, including Logan across the aisle from me, and Freddie a row in front of me.

We’re using fake names, and we’re dressed casually in jeans and button-down shirts. Our reason for this visit will be stated as “pleasure.” We’re simply European businessmen spending a week in South Beach. It’s the best way to stay ahead of the game.

“I’ve made contact with our local guys,” Freddie says, once we’re through customs. “They’ll meet us in the parking garage with weapons and vehicles.”

“What’s the latest on this weather?” I look out the window at the typhoon in which we’ve landed.

“Typical Miami rain?” Logan suggests.

“Let’s hope it pushes through quickly.”

We’re in the garage, taking the elevator to the second to top level. Down twelve rows and over three, I see our men waiting beside a black SUV and a smaller black Mercedes sedan.

“That’s not conspicuous at all,” I say, shaking hands with Ronald Delahousse, our local contact. His light brown hair is longish and messy, and he’s dressed the same way we are, except he has a thin nylon jacket on top.

He does a slight bow. “Your grace.” He hands me a black leather wallet. “U.S. passport, Florida driver’s license, and credit cards for one Bill Aucoin.”

At the rear of the sedan, he opens the trunk and lifts the mat. Two rifles and a store of ammunition are housed in a secret compartment.

“Nice,” I say.

“In the console area, you will find a drop-down compartment containing a thirty-five millimeter and a Diamondback DB-9.”

“That would be a…?”

“Four-inch nine-millimeter handgun,” he says. “Both are fully loaded.”

“Sounds like we’re all set.”

He hands me the keys to the sedan, and I wave to Logan and Freddie. They’ll shadow me to the hotel then wait from the SUV as I pretend to reserve a room. We’ll maintain contact through our smart watches, which has the added benefit of letting them know my heart is still beating. I’ve worked with these guys before. They’re two of the best from my regiment.

It takes a half-hour to reach the hotel in the rain. I pull into the parking lot, giving it a brief scan for anything unusual. All is grey and quiet in the downpour. I reach into the console and take out the tiny pistol. It’s the size of my palm, and once I’m standing, I slide it into my jeans pocket before dashing into the lobby.

“Wahoo! You made it just in time for the hurricane party!” A tall, dark-haired male behind the desk is smiling and lively.

“Is a hurricane coming?” I glance behind me out the front doors. The black SUV is parallel parked on the street.

“Nah, it’s just a thunderstorm, but any excuse for a party, right?” He does finger guns at me. “That’s some accent. You from Louisiana?”

“Sure,” I say, looking away to inspect the run-down lobby. Not the greatest part of town.

“Well, laissez les bon temps rouler!” He sings as he steps to the computer. I smile, playing along as I reach for my fake identification. “How long you staying with us, big guy?”

“One night.” I hand over the license and credit card.

“Oh!” The guy squints at the card, and I my smile tightens. “How do you say that name? Aye-you-coin?”

“Close.” My shoulders relax, and I smile. “Oh-kwan.”

“I wasn’t close!” he laughs. Then he whispers, staring at my card. “Oh-kwan… oh-kwan…”

Holding my hand out, I cock a brow. “May I have it back?”

“Oh, sure!” He passes it across. “Room 204. Elevator’s around the corner. Enjoy your stay!”

“Thanks.”

He’s back to doing a little dance, playing on his phone, and I slip around the corner. The room I’m searching for is on the second floor, but it’s on the other side of the hotel. I head straight down the empty hall, noting the faded carpets and peeling wallpaper.

“I’m en route,” I say softly at my wrist, my eyes trained on the corner up ahead.

I haven’t passed anyone in the hall, and I can only guess it’s because of the unfashionable location or the poor weather—or both.

Around the corner, I stop as a blast of damp, warm air hits me. Keeping my back against the wall, I look down to see the exterior door is cracked, letting the rain and humid wind stream through the opening.

A quick glance to my right, and I see the room in question. My pulse ticks faster.

“I need backup,” I say quietly in my watch. “Enter from the pool area. The back door is open.”

A light thump from my watch tells me they’re on the way. I fish out the small gun from my pocket and slowly creep down the shadowy hall. A flash of lightning makes me realize the power is out in the hotel, or at least in this wing.

Crossing quickly, I press my back against the opposite wall, on the same side as my destination. I have my gun against my chest, and I slide my hand out, testing the doorknob. It falls open easily.

“Shit,” I say so quietly, it’s not even a breath. I look to my right again. Come on, guys.

I’m standing at the last known whereabouts of Helen Regis, and I’m not about to enter until Logan and Freddie are in sight. No telling what I might walk into. Freddie is as tall as me, but a bit leaner, faster. Logan is both taller and beefier. They’re the perfect combination in situations like this.

The soft noise of the exterior door opening makes me tense until my partners dash up, shaking water from their clothes. Nodding, I hold a finger to my lips before pointing to the door. Freddie takes the opposite wall, and Logan is right beside me.

Stretching out my leg, I kick it open, and Freddie points his gun straight ahead. Everything freezes.

I hold my breath, waiting, and…

Nothing.

Silence greets us from inside. A low rumble of thunder fills the quiet as we start to breathe again.

“Let’s go,” I whisper.

Freddie strides forward, stepping into the black room and reaching to flick the light switch. No dice. I’m right behind him as he pulls out a flashlight, and we quickly scan the seemingly vacant space. No luggage, no sign anyone’s slept in the bed.

Pushing back the heavy curtains fills the room with grey daylight. “She must’ve checked out,” Logan says behind me, moving around the magazines and a white plastic binder with his gun.

“Check the bathroom,” I tell Freddie, and he nods.

He’s only in the small, closet-sized space a moment. The noise of the shower curtain moving, and he calls to me. “Sir? I think I’ve found her.”

Logan and I both rush to where he’s waiting, and there, in the tub, lies a large, female body. She’s wearing sweatpants and a shirt that reads, “I pooped today!”

A plastic bag is over her head, tied at the neck, and it’s dotted with moisture. I’m just about to pull out our information to identify the body when the room phone blasts out a ring.

We all freeze, our eyes meet, and I take a second to decide what to do. “Identify her,” I say, snatching a towel off the rack.

The harsh, metallic noise blasts another ring, and I slowly approach where it sits on the laminate table. One more ring, and I pick it up with the towel, holding the receiver near my ear without touching my skin.

I don’t speak. Instead, I wait for the person calling to go first.

Silence. They’re waiting as well.

I’m breathing fast, thinking as Freddie walks out of the bathroom. Clearing my throat, I pretend to cough.

“Helen?” the female voice I’ve been desperate to hear speaks.

“Zelda?” I say just as fast. “Zelda, it’s Cal—where are you?”

Logan stumbles out of the bathroom, holding a towel over his mouth and nose. “It’s her,” he says.

“Zelda?” I say again fast. “Where are you, love?”

She doesn’t hang up, which I take as a good sign, but she doesn’t speak either. “Zelda, please. I’m trying to find you.”

“Cal?” Her voice trembles. “What are you doing? Who’s with you?”

“Two of my men. Tell me where you are. We’re here to protect you.”

A voice is with her. “Where is Helen?” I can tell she’s repeating what it told her to say.

“I’m afraid she’s had an accident—”

“Oh my god…” she gasps. “They’re going to kill us all.”

“Zelda, talk to me.” My mind is racing. Helen and this hotel are the only leads we have. “I know you’re afraid, but you’re smarter than this. Let me help you.”

She answers fast. “I can’t drag you into this.”

“I’m already in it.”

“I’m not good for you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You can’t save me.”

“Want to bet?” My tone is deadly serious. I will not let anything happen to this woman. “I love you, Zee.”

She’s silent a split second. “I have to hang up. They could be monitoring this line.”

“Call my cell. You know the number—call me!” I’m shouting on the line as it goes dead. “FUCK!” I throw the receiver against the wall.

For a moment, we stand in the dark room. I’m breathing hard, frustration surging through my veins. A dead body is in the tub. The woman I love is out there, God knows where, in danger. I’m about to lose it, when my watch gives me a little thump.

Looking down, I see a text from an unknown number. Must stay hidden. Seth has a friend who can hide us.

“Yes!” I shout, motioning to the men. “Come on. We’ve got her.”

Dashing out the back door, I’m speaking into my watch. “Send me your location. I’ll come to you.”

A quick touch, and the message is sent. I’m in the car, and the guys are dashing across the street to their vehicle. Seconds pass. They feel like hours. My jaw clenches. I’m staring at the small screen, waiting for her response. Waiting…

Finally, a thump. Seth chartered a boat. Will text more when we’re there.

She’s at the marina? Fuck! Which one?

“No,” I speak fast into my watch. “Tell me where you’re going now.” A knot is in my throat as I hit send and wait.

More seconds tick by. The rain has slacked off, and little pellets of water make pinging sounds on the glass. The storm is passing over, moving further north, and away from the coastline. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as the black SUV pulls into an empty parking space beside me. My forehead is tight as I watch the virtual second hand move around the clock on my wrist.

“Tell me, Zelda…” I growl, staring at the white hands on the black face. It’s humid in the car, and a bead of sweat rolls down the center of my chest beneath my long-sleeved button-down. “Answer me.”

Another second passes… another little eternity. My forehead tightens; I’m afraid she’s not going to reply.

Then all at once a tap on my wrist; I almost shout when one word appears on the screen: Tortola.

I lower the window on the Mercedes. Freddie leans his dark head out toward me. “Get us on a flight to Tortola.”

Don’t miss the exciting chase, the return of Zelda, the quest for justice, and a royal wedding in

A Player for A Princess!

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Starting a brand-new story after a very successful series is a bit daunting, and very scary. Thank God I’m surrounded by such supportive people cheering me on and anxiously awaiting this new adventure. I don’t know how I’d do this otherwise.

Specifically, I must thank my husband “Mr. TL” for his encouragement, brainstorming support, and insightful critiques. You’re my rock. Thanks to my beautiful daughters who are so patient and encouraging to me. I love you ladies!

As always, thanks so much to Ilona and Candy for their excellent feedback and eagle eyes. Huge thanks to my readers and to my “Babes” for your enthusiasm and for sharing my stories with your reading friends. Thanks to my author buds who allow me to vent and keep me going.

Thanks to Hang Le for the incredible cover design that fits this story so perfectly. Thanks to Lisa with The Rockstars of Romance for helping me get the word out, and last but never least, thanks to Elle and the gals at Alpha Book Club for keeping me sane and organized while I’m in the writing cave.

I can’t begin to put into words how much I appreciate the love and support of my readers, friends, and family. I love you guys! I hope you all love these new players as much as I do.

Stay sexy,

<3 Tia

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The “Queen of Hot Romance” (*wink*), Tia Louise is the Award-Winning, International Bestselling author of the “One to Hold” series.

From “Readers’ Choice” nominations, to USA Today “Happily Ever After” nods, to winning the 2015 “Favorite Erotica Author” and the 2014 “Lady Boner Award” (LOL!), nothing makes her happier than communicating with fans and weaving new tales into the Alexander-Knight world of stories.

A former journalist, Louise lives in the center of the USA with her lovely family and one grumpy cat. There, she dreams up novels she hopes are engaging, hot, and sexy, and that cause readers rethink common public locations.

Books by Tia Louise

The One to Hold Series:

One to Hold (Derek & Melissa), 2013

One to Protect (Derek & Melissa), 2014

One to Keep (Patrick & Elaine), 2014

One to Love (Kenny & Slayde), 2014

One to Leave (Stuart & Mariska), 2014

One to Save (Derek & Melissa), 2015

One to Chase (Amy & Marcus), 2015

One to Take (Stuart & Mariska), 2016

The Dirty Players Duet:

The Prince & The Player, 2016

A Player for a Princess, 2016

Dirty Dealers - Jan. 24, 2017!

Dirty Thief - Spring, 2017!

Paranormal Romances:

One Immortal (Derek & Melissa, #SexyVampire), 2015

One Insatiable (Koa & Mercy, #SexyShifter), 2015

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Copyright © 2014 Eden Butler

All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.

Edited by Sharon B. Browning

Cover Design by Steven Novack

Cover Image by ShutterShock

Section Headers by Chelle Bliss

Formatting by Fictional Formats

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction:

Music: “You’re All I Need To Get By” Method Man featuring Mary J. Blige; “Crash Into Me” The Dave Matthews Band; “Notorious” The Notorious B.I.G.; “The Freshman” The Verve Pipe; “Feenin’” Jodeci; “Free” Phish; “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” Tiny Tim; “Stay” by Rihanna featuring Mikky Ekko - The Island Def Jam Music Group; “Dark End of the Street; “Not Gonna Cry” by Mary J. Blige. Theater: “Les Mis”, Music Theater International; Television: “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, Warner Brothers, Created by Joss Whedon; ESPN; Sports: The National Football League; NFC Championship; The NFL Draft; The Baltimore Ravens; The Denver Broncos; Louisiana State University football; Tulane University; Locales: The City of New Orleans, LA; The City of Nashville, TN; Miscellaneous: Nokia Phones; Gibson Guitars;

Mom - Seriously, this one is so much worse.

The foul mouthed-ness is just…a lot.

Sorry.

Dear Reader – Keira and Kona are insane people…especially as kids.

Weren’t we all at that age?

Love makes you dumb.

PREFACE

Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.”

―Toni Morrison, Beloved

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

KEIRA

APRIL, 2013

There were ghosts in the lake house.

Keira felt them breathing on her skin. They were filaments of memory, echoes behind the words of the woman she buried yesterday; disappointment and dread, fear, pain, tear-soaked pillows, impossible expectations required of the teenage girl she used to be. In the crevices and alcoves of this old place, Keira saw her younger self—awkward, curious, broken—filling days of neglect with imaginary friends.

The lake loomed in front of her and the cool patio stone under her feet chilled her skin, had her fingers moving up her arm in a futile attempt at warming herself. The slide of slow currents, the slip of each wave against the dark sand, brings peace, relief, neither of which Keira had ever known in this place. Fireflies skid along the surface and the heavy limbs of cypress trees brush against the water. In the distance, toward the cityscape she can’t see, she knew there were beacons of activity that she might touch if she were brave enough to venture beyond these haunting walls. With each flick of her eyes, Keira called more ghosts from the past, pulled them into her mind—unseen creatures lined on a hook.

Behind her closed lids, Keira saw the priest’s face, the quick nod of his head that confirmed the woman in the coffin had been her mother. She’d have never believed it otherwise. The protruding collarbone and pallid skin on the woman’s small frame had been a shadow of the domineering mother Keira had left behind.

Sixteen years ago, in the city hospital with Keira’s bruised limbs throbbing like a burn, her mother had insisted she kill the baby growing in her belly.

Eighteen, the woman had said, was too young to be a mother.

She hadn’t been wrong, but Keira had tired of her mother’s commands, her quick temper, those sharp slaps, and the insistences that had been drummed into her ears since childhood, and so, at least that one time, a small rebellion changed her life.

It brought her son into this world.

The ghosts, the heartache of the past, had kept her from New Orleans. She’d been determined to never resurrect them, but her mother’s death called her back, forced her to return and when their plane touched tires on the tarmac, Keira felt the ghosts remerge—the pain of what she’d been forced into, the disappointment of what she set free, and the unbending betrayal of the boy she loved.

The past was a slippery vine of regret. It was a reminder of what Keira had given up. And now that she is back home, her mother buried behind the walls of the old family crypt, Keira felt that vine tightening around her neck like a noose.

The click of the television in the room just beyond the open patio doors and the slick squeak of Ransom’s sneakers on the leather sofa pulled Keira from her thoughts and the mesmerizing current of the lake.

“Mom,” Ransom called to her. “The draft starts in ten minutes. You watching?”

A chill has set in the home, carried through the broken seals of the windows with the spring rain and Keira pulls her cardigan tight around her as she followed the noise of the television into the den. “Of course.” Ransom’s drink leaves a wet ring on the mahogany coffee table and as habit, as conditioning, she placed a coaster onto the wood surface. “Here.”

Her son smiled, brought into focus a dimple that carried in more echoes of the past. “She’s gone, you know. Why do you care about coasters?” She knew he was right, knew that her mother’s presence is the largest ghost, the one she thought she exorcised years before. But this place is too familiar, too reminiscent of her. When she doesn’t answer him, ignores his comment with eyes on the screen in front of them, Ransom replaced his drink onto the coaster, letting the comment lie. “These jackasses are yammering about the Steamers’ rankings. We win the Super Bowl and still get no respect.” He nodded at the television and Keira could only smile that he said “we” and not “they” as though he grew up in New Orleans and not Nashville.

Ransom’s gaze ran over the commentators’ too-tanned faces, their receding hairlines, small hints of the handsome men they’d been when they took the field. Her son soaked in each detail of the teams being discussed, the bodies running, scoring in the file footage, and for the millionth time Keira was reminded that he looks nothing like her.

There were no traces of her in his features, no hints of her French ancestors. His eyes were dark pools that scream of a knowledge and a struggle far beyond his nearly sixteen years. They were not blue like hers, but inky black, narrow, bottomless. His cheeks were high, sloped, far more distinguished than her own. His skin was heavily tanned, near caramel, face peppered with faint freckles.

He was his father in duplicate. Just as imposing, just as beautiful.

Sometimes her son grins a certain way, laughs with a tone that is placating and sarcastic, and both gestures bring her back to the boy she loved; another ghost of the past reflected in her son’s gait, in his pleased, happy laugh.

“Elam went to the Ravens. He’s good. Not as good as Vasquez. That dude will help land us in the NFC Championship.”

“That’s months away, son.”

But Ransom ignored her, lifts the remote to the screen when the commentary shifts from the players waiting to be selected, to NFL gossip and speculation and the name she’s tried to forget she knew for all of Ransom’s life.

“Kona Hale enters the 2013 season as a free agent…” the sports caster began, but Keira didn’t hear the rest of his monologue. She only saw the picture flash on the screen. The hooded eyes, black and penetrating, the familiar grin, the scar across his cheek that Keira knew wasn’t from a football game. And then, Ransom sat up straight as a video of Kona moved over the screen, reporters surrounding him, microphones pointed at his face as he left an airport.

Ransom’s gaze slipped to her and she thought there was a question there; the same question she’s waited for him to ask since the first time he became obsessed with Kona Hale, NFL darling. She knew Ransom saw the similarities. How could he not? But he didn’t ask. He has never asked.

“Rumor is Hale is going to practice with the Steamers this summer.” Ransom flashed a grin identical to the one on the television set and Keira repressed a shudder. “It would be cool if he came back home, right? Played with them? I mean, he’s getting up there, kinda old for a long contract.”

“He’s around my age, you know.” She is unable to resist a smile when her son’s eyes go wide.

“I mean, you’re not old, Mom. But for a linebacker, well, thirty-six is pushing it.”

“Nice save, little man.”

Keira’s elbow moved off the sofa when Ransom nudge it. She didn’t look at the screen, tried to ignore the voice, his voice, as he answered the reporters’ endless questions. She’d spent years doing that; blocking out an article online or him on a late night talk show. Keira learned to blind herself to the sports figure, reminding herself he is no longer the boy she loved. That face, that name, was something unreal to her. He was no longer the boy who shredded her heart.

Ransom stopped asking about his father when he was thirteen; when “what’s my father’s name?” had Keira’s hands shaking until she had to shove her fingers under her thighs to keep them still. She’d meant to answer him then. She’d meant to answer all of his questions over the years. But her boy stopped questioning, seemed to stop wondering out loud who had given him his wide stature, the small cleft in his chin.

He stopped asking and Keira believed he no longer cared.

What an idiot she’d been.

“Kona, is it true you’re tapped for spring training with the Steamers?” a reporter asked and his laugh returns Keira’s attention back to the screen.

“You never know, Bryan. We haven’t decided…”

Still beautiful. Still charming and when Keira’s heart clenched, vibrated like a baseline drumming from a speaker, she couldn’t listen anymore.

“Want some popcorn?” She didn’t wait for her son to respond before she moved into the kitchen. Keira took a moment to herself, to push away the ghost that has lingered the longest.

On the counter she saw her mother’s cookbook. It was red and white, Betty Crocker and opened on the stand to a recipe for Chicken and Dumplings. It was rarely used and never by her mother, but the sight of it had Keira looking around the room. The counters still shined, even though they were unused by her mother who never learned more about cooking than picking up the phone to have someone else prepare it. Still, those shadows of her mother’s ghost could not block other things she remembers about this room.

Keira attempting French toast and Kona’s successful efforts at distraction. Kona leaning her against the counter, shirtless, his jeans lowered; her legs around that thin, tight waist, her open to him, giving, taking; her fingers hanging onto the edge as he worked inside her. Keira could still hear her own moans bounce into her ears across the wood floors. He filled this place and sometimes, Keira thought, he fills too much of her head, too much of her heart.

She had pushed back those memories, those sensations that Kona always worked in her, but being home had allowed her to remember how much he had consumed her. To her, then, he was life. He was breath. He was the searing part of her soul that burned her from the inside. With him, she couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t move past the way his mouth felt on her skin. He had been that all—life, death, breath—all those impossible things you aren’t supposed to feel at eighteen. A first love so real, so tempting that sometimes she was sure he was a figment of her imagination.

She blinked away that memory and pulled out an empty bowl when the volume on the television increased. Kona’s voice was louder then, clearer, and Keira moved to the pantry, fetched a small bag of popcorn and slammed it into the microwave. The cadence of his voice has grown deeper, heavier with a rasp and there were no vestiges of his Uptown roots in the inflection. He belonged to the world now, not the city, not their university, certainly not to her. Keira’s heart skipped double time, throbbing with each word she managed to hear from Kona’s interview.

Sixteen years and she still couldn’t manage to forget him.

Sixteen years and the heavy weight of his words to her still rendered her dumb.

“Walk away, Keira. Walk away from me and don’t look back.”

She did. He could hardly blame her for listening.

“Mom, it’s starting,” Ransom called into the kitchen.

She took a breath, then another and opened the microwave when it sounded. “Just a second, son. I’ll be just a second.”

***

Kona

THE WOMAN HAD LOOKED OLDER than her sixty-four years when she died. The picture accompanying the obituary told him that much.

Kona pulled the newspaper closer to his face examining the hollow cheeks, the thin nose. He hadn’t thought of her in years. Not the dead woman. She’d always been an uptight, cruel bitch and he felt nothing save surprise at her passing. He had been convinced she was simply too mean to die.

Cora Michaels (nee Marquette) died peacefully in her home April 29th after a lengthy illness.

Peaceful was something Kona believed she didn’t deserve. Painful, kicking and screaming, he thought, befit her better. He skimmed the obituary until his eyes found the name he was looking for.

She is survived by her daughter Keira Riley, and her niece Leann Marquette-Bankston.

Keira Riley.

Not Keira Riley hyphenated with another name. No husband? He knew not to get his hopes up. Keira was a bridge he burned long ago. His indifference had been the kindling, his words the bright spark that set flame to them both.

But he couldn’t stop himself from lingering on the memory of her smile. The laugh he released caught him off guard. He didn’t know where it came from or why it had come so quickly. Absently, Kona rubbed his thumb along the smooth scar on his cheek. A beer bottle in the alleyway of a bar they were too young to frequent, had left its mark and still reminded him of her every day.

Of them.

Keira’s temper had been quick and sharp. His face was marked because he fell in love with a girl who didn’t like him touching a flirty waitress. God, how she’d raged that night. He’d loved every second of it.

“Wildcat,” he said to himself, a small chuckle moved out of his mouth at the memory. She swore she hated the nickname, but he caught her blush each time he said it.

Kona left the newspaper behind on the table, took in the bustle below him in the city. Street cars gliding by, packed with tourists. Horns blaring, fingers lifted in the city’s greatest tribute to assholes, cops parked in the medians, itching to pull anyone over and in the distance, the river—the great old girl that breathed the pulse of half the country’s struggle right into the Gulf. This city, his hometown, reminded him of years past, of her. His eyes glanced back down at the paper and Kona retrieved Keira’s face, that smile again, the memory of her skin.

Was she there now? Had she finally returned to say goodbye to the mother she hated? Was it even possible that fate would bring them both back home? Now?

Had she forgiven him?

I will haunt you, Kona. When you think of me, see my face, hear my name, you’ll only remember that I loved you. You’ll remember that my love for you was never thin. You’ll remember this moment because it will be the biggest regret of your life.

She’d cursed him.

He could still see the pain in her eyes, the hollow shock that had transformed her features that day. He’d told her to leave. He’d told her he never loved her. All the grief he’d felt at that moment, Kona laid at Keira’s feet. Blame was a dagger he sliced into her heart, his own sorrow, his own pain, directed at the only girl he’d ever loved. He’d told her to walk away, he told her so many lies that went against everything he felt. But she’d had a future. At the time, he thought his was over. She deserved better than him, better than the uncertain fate he’d fallen into at twenty.

Keira’s curse stayed with him. There had been women; sometimes he cannot remember even one of their faces, but with her, the image is clear. Her soft, pale skin. Eyes like the sky, like the ocean trapped in a hurricane. That long, thick chestnut hair. There was no erasing her from his memory.

But now? No. It was too late. That bridge was ash by now, not even the splinters of its remains could be felt. She’d been gone from him for too long. But some nights, when the games were too rough, when his body ached from damage, from age, from too many years of exertion; he remembered how she would hold him, how every rake of her fingernails on his scalp brought him calm, how good it felt to protect her, love her completely. How she’d hum, her low, beautiful voice strong, comforting, as he lay on her chest finding the only real relief he’d ever felt, in the arms of the girl he loved.

No woman could erase her completely and nothing would ever compare to the sight and feel of his Wildcat.

The phone in Kona’s pocket chirpped twice. The messages were endless, all saying much the same “meeting with the Steamers coaching staff at noon tomorrow,” or “interview with ESPN at five.” His manager was relentless. His fans were enthusiastic. His mother refused to be rebuffed about him spending the morning with her.

They all wanted something. They said they were trying to help. But it has been a long time since he’s believed that anyone truly needed him. Still longer since he was convinced anyone wanted him.

Not since her.

CHAPTER TWO

KEIRA

AUGUST, 1997

Claiborne-Prosper University, New Orleans

“If you insist on being stubborn, Keira, then perhaps your father and I will rethink you living on campus.”

Keira tried to withhold her temper, fingers tight on her phone as her mother’s biting voice whined sharp. She withheld the small wish that her mother had never bought the damn thing for her. Everyone else had beepers. But Keira, and the well-funded sports teams at her private university, all got phones. She hated hers. Especially when her mother used it to pick a fight with her at eight a.m.

“Mother, Steven is your husband, not my father.” She heard the heavy sigh and knew by the clicking of her mother’s tongue, that her comment wouldn’t be overlooked. “And I didn’t say no…exactly,” she hurried to say, hoping to forego a truly heated fight so early in the morning. “You don’t need to threaten me.”

“Surely you see that I am only trying to look after you.”

Keira walked past two girls standing in the middle of the hallway and tried to bite back the sarcastic retort itching to leave her mouth. Her mother always thought she knew what was best for Keira and if the girl didn’t agree, a quick slap changed her mind. Her mother picked out her clothes, had final approval over the classes she took, hell, she’d even insisted that Keira major in something “less frivolous” than music. Keira had agreed. She always agreed because that’s what good daughters did. She would not, however, easily agree to a date with Mark Burke.

“I don’t see how dating your canasta partner’s son is for my own good.” The same hall-blocking girls barged in front of Keira like she wasn’t there at all. She had to step back quick when one of them flung her purse over her shoulder, narrowly missing Keira. Keira managed to avoid her, maneuvering around the blonde, who still glared at her when Keira apparently came too close.

Still, her mother yammered in her ear. “…decent boy from a good family and you’re eighteen now, Keira. It’s time you begin thinking about settling down.”

That had her coming to a stop just three doors from her English classroom. “Are you serious? I’m a freshman, Mother.” Behind her, Keira heard the two girls’ laughter moving along the dull beige walls, straight toward her. She stared right at their too perfect, overly made up faces, but they just rolled their eyes, dismissing her. Her gaze still trained on their retreating forms, Keira continued her argument. She felt pathetic. She could mean mug some stupid sorority bitches but she couldn’t stand up to her mother. “I’ve been in college a total of two months and you’re already nagging about me settling down?”

Her mother’s voice was tense and Keira could hear the exaggerated sigh she blew right into the phone. “I just believe it would behoove you to make smart connections now. Mark is pre-med at Tulane. He’s mature and has a bright future ahead of him. You’ll want to snag him up before someone else does.”

Keira wanted to scream. Her mother had antiquated, ancient ideas about how Keira should live her life. Cora Michaels had managed at least one successful marriage, to a heart surgeon no less, and had considered that some great accomplishment. The woman liked to pretend she’d never been married to Keira’s father—a handsome musician with stage fright. She expected Keira to marry well. She expected Keira to be her clone. She expected a lot of things from Keira that the girl would never manage to live up to.

Taking a breath, Keira leaned against the wall, her attention distracted by a janitor mopping up a spill someone had discarded on the gray tile floors. “I don’t want to snag anyone, Mother.”

“But Keira, he’s so fit and handsome and his parents…”

She knew all about Mark Burke’s parents and ignored her mother’s recap. They were the same as all her mother’s friends—wealthy, connected and the height of proper North Shore society. They fit among the elite, the disgustingly rich, the groups and gaggles of the affluent that looked down their noses at anyone who wasn’t just like them. She didn’t know Mark, but if he was anything like his parents, Keira knew they’d only clash. As her mother always said, usually when she was angry at Keira, she was too much like her father. The woman had never known that Keira didn’t consider that an insult.

Already tired of her nagging, Keira interrupted her mother and whatever ridiculous thing she was saying. “Mother, I have to go. My class is about to start.” She didn’t wait for a dismissal. She knew the rudeness bothered her mother, she’d mentioned once or twice that Keira had changed since she began living on campus. Since her move, the bullying had become particularly venomous. But the idle threat of making Keira return to their lake house forty-five minutes from the city was weak at best.

Keira deposited her red Nokia in her pocket, glaring at the backs of the two girls who’d walked in front of her, when she noticed one of them intentionally bumping the janitor’s full mop bucket. The dirty yellow contraption tittered on its wheels before it toppled over, spilling murky, brown water over the floor.

“Stupid bitch,” Keira said to the girl's back before she stepped next to the janitor to set the bucket right. “Can I help?”

The old man blinked at her, a wry smile pulling across his face when he registered her offer. “No, cher, don’t you trouble yourself.”

She squatted down next to him, caught the mop before it fell to the floor. “I feel like I should apologize.” She nodded toward the end of the hallway where the blonde had disappeared. “I don’t hold out much hope for my generation. There are too many like her running around campus like they own it.”

The old man laughed and the sound had Keira returning his smile.

“I’ll give you that, darlin’. Not many good sort that I’ve seen.” He took the mop from Keira and they both stood straight. “But pretty little things like you give me hope.” At his wink, Keira felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you for the offer, but I think you best be off to your studies.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, wiping her damp hands on the leg of her jeans.

She put her mother and the janitor out of her mind as walked into the classroom. Keira loved this room. She loved the large wooden desks, lined in a semi-circle around Professor Miller’s larger, cherry table. It felt homey, almost cozy and she smiled when she entered the room, taking her seat right at the front.

Arthurian Studies.

Just the roll of the class name off her tongue made Keira giddy. She loved the legends; she loved the melodrama, the purpose behind each journey, every damn Campbell cliché that was born from the study of a might-have-been-real King who reigned centuries before. She loved this class and Keira suspected that her classmates did as well. For the most part, anyway.

There were, however, three exceptions: Skylar Williams and her boyfriend Dylan Collins were two. Skylar seemed unable to release high school habits and spent a huge portion of the class doodling over her notebook. She wasn’t an artist. Keira thought she was vapid. She thought anyone who drew “Skylar loves Dylan” a hundred times on perfectly usable paper, was vapid. “Skylar loves Dylan” or “Mrs. Dylan Collins” covered today’s page alongside hearts and clouds and geometric shapes. Dylan slept through every class.

The third exception was the tall linebacker who sat two rows away from her, hiding in the back of the classroom. Keira knew him. Not personally, but certainly by reputation. Kona Hale and his twin brother Luka were the proverbial golden duo. Their presence on the football team assured that CPU was headed straight to the Sugar Bowl.

Keira had never been to a single football game. She didn’t care about football. She didn’t care about vapid girls and their snoring boyfriends. She especially did not care about massive football players with wide shoulders and dark eyes who tuned out Professor Miller for fifty minutes straight.

Today, though, she cared a little about all three of them.

Her cousin Leann had missed another class. That was two in a row and since Profess Miller was handing out partner assignments—and Leann was the only other person in the class Keira ever felt comfortable enough talking to—she was worried about those three exceptions.

She hated group projects. They seemed so pointless. There was never a measure of real participation because despite the number in each group, there was always one person that did the majority of the work. Usually, it ended up being her, even if Leann was in her group. Blood didn’t overrule her cousin’s incessant need to slack.

This was an early class, eight a.m. on the nose and so Keira didn’t bother with fixing herself up; she was always too pressed for time, coming straight from her early morning cross country practice. If her mother saw her today, or any day really that she didn’t bother with more than a hoodie and a ball cap with her long ponytail sticking out the back, Keira knew she’d get a lecture. But her mother was forty-five minutes away, in Mandeville, so Keira dressed how she wanted in New Orleans. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone, anyway.

Besides, she had no one to impress.

She was always the girl in the front of the class that teachers seemed to call on. Her hand usually shot up first and there was generally a book, usually poetry, in front of her face before class started. It was natural that the others in a group project would gravitate toward her because they knew she’d take on most of the work.

A group, she could handle.

A group, she didn’t mind.

But partners? Well. No.

Skylar and Dylan were isolated near the door; him drooling on his desk, her drawing hearts and “I love Skylar” in looping script on the back of his hand. There may have been a few bubbles, possibly a “4-eva.” Skylar seemed like the “4-eva” type.

Keira’s gaze landed on Kona Hale.

He had his ball cap lowered over his eyes and the hood of his sweatshirt covering his head. Occasionally, he’d bob to whatever funneled through his headphones, but mostly he sat upright with his eyes closed as though Professor Miller couldn’t tell he was completely tuned out.

Kona was massive, even at twenty, and Keira would be a liar and a blind idiot if she denied how beautiful he was. She’d heard rumors, mostly from the girls on the cross country team and a few in her dorm who had screamed like banshees when she casually mentioned she had a class with him. Kona Hale was a stereotypical jock—hot tempered, eager to party, ready for a good time. Mostly, the rumors Keira had heard trailed along the “will screw anything” variety.

They acted like he was a rock star. Of course, this was southeast Louisiana. Football players, even college football players, were treated like gods. Especially if their performances produced bowl trophies and good SEC rankings.

She could see the appeal. He was exactly the kind of guy most girls her age fell over themselves for. Keira guessed he was inching toward 6’4 and he had a typical linebacker’s frame: large, wide shoulders, thick, sculpted arms like a marble statue and thighs that reminded her of tree trunks. It was bad enough that his body looked like something out of a "Muscle and Fitness" magazine, that certainly would give him reason enough to strut around campus like he usually did with a cluster of stupid groupies chasing after him. But no, to make matters worse, Kona had a flawless, exotic face. A dark, gorgeous complexion that reflected his Hawaiian heritage; strong, high cheekbones that offset his deep, penetrating black eyes and a small cleft in his chin that saved his face from being too perfect. He carried himself with a confidence and swagger and that made him that more intimidating. Not that Keira had ever tried approaching him.

Of course, his good looks didn’t make up for his arrogant, full of himself attitude. She’d seen that firsthand in his indifferent presence during class - and that time during the first week of the semester when the girls on her cross country team thought it would be funny to push Keira into the football locker room.

She hadn’t expected anyone to be there, maybe a coach or two, maybe a water boy, but as she banged on the door and then walked away from it trying to find another exit, Keira heard a low grunt spilling out from the showers. Instinct told her to ignore it. She knew better than to walk around the lockers and peek into the open shower. But the room was fogging, and she had Poli Sci homework; she needed out of that locker room. And so she followed the groan, the billowing steam and stopped short to find Kona Hale standing in the middle of the shower, water pouring over his head, down his large shoulders, onto those massive arms, and the fist that was threaded in the wet blonde hair of the girl on her knees in front of him as she sucked him off.

Keira’s little yelp of surprise had his eyes open and staring right at her. The jackass didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. An easy smirk and lick of his lips, and then Kona muttered, “Come get wet with us or fuck off” and Keira darted through the locker room until she found an open door.

The boosters and coaching staff and the rest of the entire university might have adored Kona. Keira thought he was an egotistical jackass. An egotistical jackass that she’d probably be partnered with in her favorite class.

Keira stared a bit longer than she had intended and Kona’s gaze slid to the right, directly at her face. Before a full blush could completely take over her face, Professor Miller called her name and she spun around in her seat to answer him.

“Yes, sir?” She said a small prayer under her breath that Kona’s name wouldn’t leave Miller’s mouth. Please not him, she thought. Please, please not Kona Hale.

“You and Mr. Hale will be partnered together since Ms. Marquette has dropped the class.”

What?! When had her cousin decided that? She was going to kill Leann. Murder her between snores tonight after lights out.

“Um…oaky.” Keira dismissed Miller’s smile and shifted her eyes across the classroom again, back to Kona. He wasn’t even paying attention. She could see his profile, eyes closed once again, head still bobbing. She didn’t understand why he was even in this class. Keira assumed since he was first string on the football team that Kona’s major was something soft like basket weaving or Studies in Pigskin. She was sure that Arthurian Legends wasn’t a requirement for his major.

She didn’t need this. She already had a full plate with her track practices and the double load of classes she was taking. Besides, this project was a big one; one she knew she couldn’t handle on her own.

“Okay, guys, I’d like you to meet with your partners. Set up your schedules and delegate tasks. I expect a full outline by next week so use your time wisely.”

The class broke apart after Miller’s instructions, desks sliding against the tile floor, backpacks falling down in thumps.

Kona didn’t move.

Keira hated this; the approach, the awkward dance of silence that always followed speaking to someone she didn’t know. She was introverted by nature, kept to herself because most of her peers thought she was a music nerd who spent way too much time writing songs or playing her Gibson Hummingbird behind her closed dorm door. Maybe she was. But being an introvert didn’t mean she’d cower under whatever glare Kona gave her when she spoke to him. Being introverted was one thing. Being a doormat was something altogether different and Keira had no intention of letting this human Volkswagen walk all over her. Mainly, she prayed he didn’t recognize her from the locker room.

When Keira approached him, Kona’s eyes remained closed, his head still in that stupid bob. She stood in front of him and waited. A full minute passed and he still hadn’t moved before Keira bumped his desk.

Kona’s eyes opened slowly, and he exhaled, as though annoyed by the disturbance. “What?” His voice was loud as he spoke over the music still working in his ears.

She only glared at him, expectant, nodded to his headphones. Professor Miller walked up the row of desks and finally Kona silenced the music.

“You need something?”

“You and I are partnered for the Elements in Modern Versions presentation.”

He looked around the classroom as though trying to confirm Keira’s claim. “Why?”

“Um…I don’t…” She couldn’t even finish, instead she offered him a weak shrug. She swallowed down her nerves, reminded herself about this class, how badly she wanted to excel in it, and tried to settle the annoyance bubbling in her stomach at Kona’s flippant attitude before she pulled a desk next to him and brought out her notebook and black pen. “Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not doing this by myself. It’s going to be a hard project and it requires a lot of research.”

“I got practice.”

“So do I.”

“For what?”

“Cross country. We’ve got four meets in the next month.”

Kona’s lips bounced against each other when he tutted. “Track? Come on. I’m sure running doesn’t require a lot of effort.” He sat up, pushing his book sack under his large chest before he rested on it. “We do five miles a day and that’s just a warm up. Besides, we’ve got two away games. That requires a little more work than your little meets.”

Keira closed her eyes, trying to tamp back the instant desire to knock Kona across his head, hoping that she could hold her temper in check. Bitch. That was another name she’d earned in her short first semester at CPU. She knew she could be bitchy. She knew that her buttons were easy to push, but she hadn’t meant to make enemies. The girls in her dorm had labeled her a bitch when she refused to join in with them every Tuesday night to watch “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and again when she claimed no interest in pledging a sorority. Looking at Kona Hale, seeing the way his eyes slipped over her face, dismissing any interest at all, told Keira he was probably going to think the same thing about her. Nerdy Bitch. She was fine with that, but she didn’t need Professor Miller to see it. If college was the afterlife, then the professors were gods and the eternal reward was a high GPA. She wasn’t going to let Kona threaten her 4.0 glory.

“When do you practice?”

“Every damn day.”

“Yes, well me too.” She looked across the classroom, trying to think of the best time to work Kona and this stupid project into her schedule. “I’m through by seven. Can you meet after that?”

“I guess. Except for Wednesday nights. I got shit on Wednesdays.”

“It’s just for a month. You can do your shit another time?”

Kona’s gaze moved over Keira’s face then down, making her lean back against her desk. She didn’t know what he was looking at or why she felt underdressed in her jeans and oversized hoodie, but the way Kona’s gaze took her in had Keira feeling the sudden urge to shower.

“Listen, sweetheart, maybe there’s something we can work out.”

“What do you mean?”

Kona scooted closer to her and pulled on the ties of her hoodie. Keira felt instantly hot, as though the temperature in the classroom had increased by twenty degrees. She didn’t like the way Kona stared at her mouth, or how he kept running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I know this project is going to be a pain in the ass, and I’ve been watching you in here. This is your kind of thing.” He pulled on the string again, wrapping it around his large finger. There were ridges on his clean fingernails and so Keira stared at them, trying to avoid the intensity of Kona’s gaze, trying to ignore the deep lull of his voice. “You’re always answering Miller’s questions, always debating him about all this shit.” He wrapped the tie tighter around his finger, pulling Keira toward him. “You get off on this stuff.”

“And?” Keira cleared her throat before she pulled the string from Kona’s hand and tugged on the ends of her hair, trying her best to keep the warm flush on her face out of his view.

“And, Guinevere, I told you. I got practice and other shit I need to take care of. You help me out on this project and, well, I can help you out too.”

When his tongue flicked out again and his eyes went back to Keira’s mouth, she felt her entire neck heat and knew her face had colored close to pink, as always. She wanted to kick him, hard. The insinuation was there, right in the smug grin on his face and the warm blaze of his eyes. He can’t be serious, she thought.

She didn’t mean for her laugh to echo around the classroom. She didn’t mean to draw the attention of Professor Miller, who frowned at her like she was some sort of thug, but Kona Hale was more of an entitled asshole than she thought if he expected her to take his bait.

“Let me see if I get you. You want me to work on this project, a project that’s worth 40 percent of our grade in exchange for what? You lowering yourself to fuck me?”

Kona seemed surprised by her crude language. He even looked around the classroom, a small chink in his cool composure fracturing just a bit. “Knew you wouldn’t be down.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Her awkwardness vanished under the weight of her anger - something that tended to happen when Keira’s temper flared. She inched forward to invade Kona’s personal space. He didn’t flinch at all. “It might shock you, but not every girl on campus is impressed by you.” She was unsurprised when Kona lifted his eyebrows. “And not all of us want to fuck you.”

“Oh…okay. If you say so.”

“I do and I don’t care what you offer. I’m not doing this on my own.” Keira scribbled down a time and date and shoved it at Kona’s chest. “Be at the library tomorrow night at eight.”

He didn’t bother to look at the paper she’d given him. Kona just pulled his headphones back on, acting as though Keira wasn’t there at all. But as she packed her bag and moved her desk back, she felt him watching her.

***

KONA

“THAT BITCH IS NASTY. Stay away from her.”

Luka’s smile disappeared from his face and Kona knew he’d dashed his twin’s hopes of seeing more of Amber Thomas. Luka sat back in his chair, pushed his plate away and let his gaze move over Kona’s face. He recognized the look. That was Luka sizing him up, trying to guess if Kona was lying. “How do you know? You didn’t hit that.” He looked behind him before he whispered to Kona. “Did you?”

“Brah, please.”

When Kona smiled, shrugging like he wasn’t confirming anything, Luka hit him on the shoulder. “Shut up, man.” His brother tried to deflect his unease, dropping his shoulder once when their teammates Nathan and Brian slammed into the seats across from them. “You think I don’t know what’s up with her?”

“You don’t,” Nathan said, throwing a French fry at Luka.

“Mind your business.” Luka returned the fry and it landed in Nathan’s shirt. “You don’t even know what we’re talking about, asshole.”

“Ha. Amber Thomas.” Nathan’s laugh was low and it came out around the nuggets in his mouth. “You’ve been whining about her for two days.”

“More like a week,” Brian said.

Kona thought Luka really was a dumbass sometimes. Everyone with eyes and a small attention span knew Amber Thomas’ game. She liked players, specifically first string players. Both Lu and Kona were linebackers, sophomores, sure, but they’d been courted by the CPU scouts since they dominated the sport in middle school and were signed by high school. They worked hard and earned their time on the field.

The girls on campus were pretty much the same to Kona. Beautiful, yeah, sure; he’d discovered a long time ago that southern girls were something special, but most had one agenda: find a man with potential. And Amber saw a lot of potential in Kona two weeks back. She potentialed him hard right after practice one night and then gave Nathan the same treatment just two days later. He didn’t want his brother messed up with her. Lu was too soft, still hanging on to the fat kid he’d been at ten. He was always surprised when girls wanted to get with him, despite how he’d grown, despite the fact that the weight he carried now was all muscle. That fat kid was long gone and Luka still hadn’t realized it.

“Whatever.” Kona hoped his insult would make his brother disinterested, at least make him second guess the attention Amber gave him. “If you want your dick to fall off then that’s your problem.”

Across the table Nathan and Brian laughed between bites of French fries. When Luka didn’t join in with the laughter, Kona tried to defuse his temper, scanning the dining hall for an easy target. He smiled at Bethany Johnson, sitting next to her friends, just two tables over. “Hey.” He knocked his knuckles against Luka’s arm and moved his chin in Bethany’s direction. “Sophomore. Chem major. She likes big boys.” Luka moved his eyes, gave a long look at Bethany and then returned Kona’s smile. “See? That one’s clean, trust me.”

“You do her too?”

“No, brah.” He shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Brian tried to at the KA party, but she turned him down flat. Said she doesn’t like horny blondes.” Luka laughed when Brian shot him a middle finger and Kona knew why. It wasn’t often that Brian got turned down and when he did, it was usually by good girls. Kona thought that was what Lu needed. A good girl.

He was convinced his brother was going to make his move. He thought the quick smiles he’d exchanged with Bethany had been encouragement enough to get Luka on his feet to walk over to her table, but then his twin’s face lost all expression and he frowned at something behind Kona. “You piss off anybody lately?”

“Not today, I don’t think,” Kona said to his brother.

“What about you two?” Luka asked Nathan and Brian, getting quick head shakes from both of them. “Well, head’s up. Some girl is coming this way and she’s glaring at you like you pissed in her coffee or something.”

Instantly, Kona bent his knees, tried to make his body relax. He ran through his interactions, the girls he’d talked to lately and the last time he pissed off anyone.

Susan Decker, three weeks ago got mad at him because he didn’t want to take her to her family’s barbeque out in Covington. But Kona, ever the peacemaker, sent Dougie Michaels to her dorm with a dozen roses and made sure the guy told Susan how much he liked barbeque and being out of the city. Dougie thanked him two days later for the hook up. He didn’t know who the girl behind him could be. Most of the girls he was with knew how he rolled. Casual hookups and nothing more. He just didn’t have time for the bullshit games that came along with being with a girl more than twice.

Luka’s eyes went wide, slipped up and down before Kona looked to his right and up at the girl that glared down at him.

Kona had to squint, look at the smooth contours of her face, the bright blue eyes, the high cheekbones and the creamy skin before realization hit him. This was the girl from his English class.

Kona remembered, as she stared down at him—looking like she wanted those slim fingers of hers choking his neck—that he’d missed their meeting for the project. She wasn’t dressed in her usual hide-me-from-the-world clothes. She mentioned being on the track team and so the tight running shorts she wore and a CPU track t-shirt tied at the hem made sense to him. But he’d never seen her when she wasn’t huddled under jackets and hoodies that were too big for her. Moving his gaze down her body, over those nice, high tits and flat stomach, that plump, luscious ass, Kona realized she’d been way under his radar. Her hair was pulled up in one of those high messy buns girls always seem to make look good and sweat dotted along her collarbone. It was her expression, though, that had Kona trying to keep the smile off his face.

She was pissed.

Those big, bright eyes of hers were stern, shining with anger as she glared at him and her thick, pink lips were curled up. God, he couldn’t remember her name but if she’d looked like that in class, he’d have paid more attention to her.

“You,” she said, voice little more than a growl.

“Me.” He earned a nudge and laughs from his friends around him.

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

“Hey, calm down. I missed one meeting.”

“It was the first, dumbass.”

Kona would put up with most of the shit girls gave him. He took their whining, their constant complaints of him being a player. Hell, he could even handle the teasing his friends gave him when he couldn’t shake an attached female following after him. He could even handle his mother’s bitching about working harder on his GPA. What he wouldn’t take, not from anyone, was being called dumb. That was below the belt.

This girl didn’t know him and she made assumptions. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let her treat him like shit in the middle of the cafeteria. Not when his classmates and friends were all watching. He looked down at her when he stood, hands relaxed at his side, but he widened his stance, just in case this girl was the dramatic sort and thought she could get away with slapping him.

“You might wanna watch what you say.”

She didn’t blink, didn’t move back like most would do when they heard that hint of warning in his voice. Normally, people found him imposing and a little intimidating. Especially girls. But this chick didn’t seem bothered by his height or size. She seemed, in fact, too pissed off to care about anything but insulting him.

“Don’t you threaten me, Kona Hale. I don’t give a shit if you’re on the football team or weigh as much as a Volkswagen. You’re messing with my grade.” She took a step closer and jabbed her finger into Kona’s chest and suddenly he wasn’t so relaxed. “No one screws with my grades.”

Around them, people were staring, leaning back and over each other to watch the small outburst, so Kona attempted calm, to keep things light, to keep this uptight chick from making more of a deal about him missing their meeting than she already had. “I’m not threatening anything. You just need to calm down.”

The girl closed her eyes, rubbed her fingers over the bridge of her nose as though she needed a moment to cool her simmering fury. Finally, she looked back at him, but the anger was still there and her expression remained tense. “Let me make this as simple as possible… and you’ll have to forgive me since it’s been a long damn time since I had to speak idiot.”

He took a step toward her, not threatening really, but just on the edge of a notice that he knew would seem like a warning.

“Carry your ass to the library tomorrow night at eight or I tell Miller about what a slacker you are and you’ll fail. You need to keep a certain GPA to play, don’t you?”

He didn’t know why she was asking and he didn’t like that she was. “What of it?”

The girl—Kona wished he could remember her name— lost the tension in her face and looked smug, calculating. “My cousin works in the office of the Dean of the English Department and she has no problem changing grades.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, crossing his arms. “You don’t have it in you.”

That seemed to set her off. She mirrored his stance, moved her arms together over her chest before she stepped right up to him. “You have no idea what I have in me and I promise you, you don’t want to find out.”

The way her cheeks colored, from anger, maybe from the run she clearly taken, had Kona’s mind reeling. He liked her anger, it did something to him he didn’t recognize, something that had his stomach clenching. “I don’t know, sweetheart, I think I might.”

“Tough shit. You’re not going to.” Next to them, Luka laughed, joined by the smart assed little comments Nathan made about this girl kicking Kona’s ass. She was put off by both of them, whipped her gaze to the table and leveled a frown at Kona’s brother. “Something funny?” They were immediately quiet, eyes on anything but the scowling face on the girl in front of them. “I mean it,” she told Kona, returning her attention to him. “Tomorrow night. Library. Eight o’clock.”

He couldn’t even manage to respond, to open his mouth before she walked away, arms swinging as she disregarded the stares she drew as she slammed open the dining hall door. When she marched away from him, Kona’s eyes trained onto her long, muscular legs and that lush, round ass that bounced with each stomp she made. He had to adjust himself just watching her body move.

“Who the hell was that?” Luka asked, standing next to Kona.

“Dude, I have no clue, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”

CHAPTER THREE

KEIRA

THE WOMAN WAS UNREASONABLE. Keira slammed Professor Alana’s door not caring that the she might be annoyed by the rattle of the wood on the hinges.

“Ms. Riley, the deadline cannot be extended,” she’d said.

“Ridiculous.” Keira marched down the hallway before she came to the large wooden staircase that led into the Kenner Hall lobby. “Two hours. I asked for two freaking hours.”

Her History professor had changed the assignment and with Keira’s practice schedule doubling in preparation for that weekend’s meet against Loyola, she had forgotten about her journal entry on The War of 1812.

The tile lobby floor was wet with slick puddles of water collecting around the entrance as students ran inside, trying to avoid the storm. Keira looked through the glass doors, toward the dark clouds, the quick strikes of lightening as it broke across the sky and she thought the murky look of the dark day matched her mood. It hadn’t been a good week so far; not with her late run the night before, being so angry that Kona Hale had skipped their meeting that a few laps around the track seemed the only way to cool her anger. Not that it helped much.

That morning, she’d forgotten her umbrella, something she knew better than to do. No kid raised in Louisiana should ever be without their umbrella during hurricane season and she was thinking of making a dash through the torrential weather, possibly hide out in the library just across the street when she heard someone behind her whistle. It was a sloppy rendition of “Hypnotize” by The Notorious B.I.G., and the way the guy’s whistle was a beat too quick only made Keira’s already gray mood darken.

“You could probably make it across the street,” the guy behind her said, “but you’re gonna get soaked.”

She hadn’t mentally prepared to see him yet. The hours between now and their planned meeting would have given her time enough to calm her frayed nerves. But there Kona was, leaning next to her on the window, backpack thrown over one shoulder and a ridiculous smile on his face.

“What do you want?” She didn’t care that she sounded angry. She didn’t care that Kona’s smile faltered or that his eyes slipped nearly closed at her attitude.

Again he whistled, but this time it wasn’t a song. He was mocking her. “Are you always so bitchy?”

“No.” She turned back, eyes drifting up the stairs to glare at Professor Alana’s door. “That witch pissed me off.”

Kona turned, gaze shooting up in the direction of Alana’s office. “She does that.” The grin returned and he shrugged.

Keira ignored him for a moment, directing her attention back to the clouds outside, to the way sheets of water were now flooding the sidewalk. “She doesn’t like me for some ungodly reason. I can’t get her to give me an extension on my assignment.”

“She won’t do that. She isn’t into tardiness. She’s kind of a Nazi about it.”

“You had her before?”

“No, thank God.”

“Then how do you know?”

That grin was dangerous now, stretching so wide that the deep, deep dimples in his cheeks were the only things she noticed on his tan face. “She’s my mom.”

“Oh.” Keira saw the blush on her face in the window and she tried to make her voice softer, to par back her harsh tone. “I…I didn’t know. Sorry I called her a witch.”

With that, Kona laughed, two small chuckles before he followed Keira’s gaze and stared out of the window, watching the stream of rain as it slid against the glass. “Don’t be. She is a witch. She’s tough, but she’s good. And she’s always right.”

It didn’t seem logical to her. How could Alana have a son who was so flippant about his classes? She didn’t seem like the type of woman who tolerated anything but perfection. So where had she failed Kona? “You know, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

Keira let her eyes inch to the side, then right into Kona’s gaze. “You being her son. I’d think her son wouldn’t be such a slacker.”

He exhaled, pulled his backpack further up his shoulder as though he was tired of hearing that insult. “I’m not. Not really. And you really need to let that shit go. I forgot about our meeting. I didn’t do it on purpose. Practice ran over.”

Excuses. Keira hated them and she wasn’t surprised that Kona had one readily available. “Whatever. Are you going to make it tonight?”

“I’ll be there.” She couldn’t see her own expression in the window, but she knew something in it told Kona that she didn’t believe him. When she frowned at him, he rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

Keira was done listening to him. Kona Hale was an obnoxious jackass and she had no idea why he was standing next to her a little too close, smelling too good. Head against the cool glass, Keira closed her eyes. If she concentrated, wished hard enough, maybe she’d open her eyes and he’d be gone. Maybe she would. “Positive projection,” Leann had told her, would manifest whatever she wanted. Right then, with Kona Hale’s thick, distracting scent fanning down against her, Keira decided to let the day go. There were no bitchy professors being unreasonable. There was no drenching rainstorms for idiots who forgot their umbrellas. There was no slacker football player waiting for her to blush, to stick her foot in her mouth so he could leap in with an insult or a dismissive excuse why he couldn’t help with their project.

One calm breath and her gaze went to him. Disappointed that Leanna’s new age juju hadn’t worked, Keira moved through the lobby door. Outside, she leaned against the brick surface of the building just under the wide alcove, debating how quickly she’d have to run to get across the street. Kona slid next to her, his elbow bumping against her arm. She couldn’t help the frown. One seemed to always be on her face.

“What do you want?”

“God, you’re the most uptight person I’ve ever met.”

“We haven’t met, not really.” Then, she decided to be smug, see how his ego would deflate if she embarrassed him. “Oh wait. We have. I seem to recall you in the locker room getting serviced.”

For a moment, Kona looked at her as though she was speaking Klingon, but that confused low squint stilled, and then laughter bubbled from his chest. “Oh shit.” He grabbed his stomach, bending over. “Oh, man. That was you?” His humor was annoying and he still had zero shame. “Damn. I’m sorry,” he said, smile widening as she shook her head at him.

She crossed her arms, stepping further away from his stupid smile. When he pulled on her arm, tugging the sleeve of her gray jacket, Keira jolted, slipped once on the wet steps and fell right back into Kona. He held her for a moment, hands circling her waist. She could feel how wide they were, how his long, large fingers held tight, dug next to her hipbones. Standing that close to him, she could smell the heavy scent of cologne on his shirt and felt the curved contours of his chest against her neck. She looked up, her chin moving so that her mouth was inches from his. She blinked quickly, wondering why his grip on her waist had tightened, why she felt transfixed as he pulled in his bottom lip under his teeth. When a small chuckle vibrated in his throat, Keira jerked out of his arms, wiggling forward until he released her.

His stare was cool, unaffected, but in her peripheral she noticed him balling one hand into a fist, as though he was trying to get rid of the memory of how she’d felt against him. “Hey. Listen, I’m sorry my mom was a bitch to you. I’m sorry you walked in on Lydia Kemp blowing me.” Keira scrunched her nose and Kona laughed again before he held up his hands. “I’m sorry I missed our meeting.” He took a step, forcing Keira to look away from him, returning her gaze back onto the soaking sidewalk. “Lunch? My treat.”

“No, I’m good.” The answer was automatic.

He made a noise, somewhere between a half-attempted laugh and a cough before he spoke. “Wait. What?”

“I said I’m good.” Keira had to refrain from laughing at Kona when she caught his expression. His mouth hung open, brows together so that the space between his eyebrows wrinkled. “What’s the matter? Not used to hearing no?”

“Not from girls, no, I’m not.”

“First time for everything.” She shrugged, pulling up the hood on her jacket. “I told you, I’m in a bad mood and, to be honest, I don’t like you.”

He laughed again, the sound peppered with disbelief, maybe a hint of real amusement. “Shit. You’re blunt as hell.” Another shrug and Kona’s laughter increased. “It’s just lunch. I’m not asking to see you naked.” Keira felt her cheeks heat like a fever had suddenly flashed through her blood and she cursed her pale skin that never hid a blush. One quick glance at his smile, and then Kona’s laugh only became fuller, deeper. “Damn,” he said, stepping next to her. He stood so close to her that Keira felt his breath warming her chilled skin. “You’re cute when you get all flustered like that.”

“Shut up.” She walked away from him, onto the edge of the steps and a steady stream of rain began to sprinkle off the alcove and onto her hood.

“Hey, don’t walk away. I don’t even know your name.”

A rare smile worked over her face and Keira tried to hide it, to push it off her lips because she didn’t know why it was there or why Kona Hale of all people had forced it out of her. Her dismissal had wiped the obnoxious grin from his mouth, that, she thought could have invited her smile, but she didn’t let herself linger on that thought. She was too caught up in how he stared after her, how he seemed eager to figure her out. “You would if you paid attention in class.” Keira jogged down the rest of the steps but stopped long enough to throw her gaze over her shoulder, catching how Kona’s eyes were focused on her ass. Seeing her pause, his attention returned to her face and that grin made a comeback. “Don’t be late tonight.”

***

KONA

KONA HAD ONLY BEEN at CPU for a half semester and this was the first time he’d ever been to the library. He didn’t need it. If there was research to do for any of his classes, he usually went into his mother’s office and worked on her computer. But this place was nice, he thought. He’d been in hundreds of libraries, usually when his mother’s sabbaticals had taken him and his brother everywhere from Canada to their island back in Hawaii.

The floors were marble and shone like a mirror, even with the random CAUTION: WET FLOOR signs littering every corner. The lobby seemed endless, with rows of thick, wooden tables lining either side of the room and sections of upholstered chairs and couches circling the two large staircases.

He sat in the lobby on a brown leather couch waiting for that girl, Keira he’d discovered her name was, to make an appearance. For all her bitching about him missing their first meeting and her anxious bullshit about him fucking up her grade, the little brat was late.

He checked his watch, a worn leather and gold thing his grandfather had carried in Korea, and saw that Keira was running ten minutes behind. Kona wondered if she was testing him, was going to leave him hanging alone in the library but then immediately figured she didn’t have the nerve. He laughed at that, at her anal demeanor and the rigid way he’d noticed she carried herself.

Kona closed his eyes, remembering her earlier that day, rain soaked and wet and those tight jeans she wore clinging to her muscular legs and sweet, plump ass. Damn if the girl wasn’t hot. A little bit of a bitch, but still hot. She had potential that was for sure. He caught enough of a glance at her that night in the cafeteria when she was fresh from the track and her face had gone all pink and flushed, and again today when he flirted with her and her skin had turned red and blotchy. He liked that he did that to her. He did that to most girls, but Keira didn’t seem like the other girls he’d messed with before. She didn’t know what she was, how a rare little smile and the quick intake of breath (which pushed up her round tits) could have any guy panting after her like a dog.

Where had that come from? he thought, moving his head back against the couch. He pushed Keira and any thoughts of her body out of his head and especially the idea that she had seen him in the showers that day. Thoughts started to trail to the steamy locker room and Keira in front of him instead of Lydia, and he had to rub his palms into his eyes to dispel the image. He didn’t need the distraction she could easily cause him if he sat there thinking about her.

Above him the high glass ceiling reflected a murky night and the few intermittent fractures of lightening in the sky. The library was quiet and gave Kona a few minutes to think, for a change. His room at the team house was rarely quiet; the silence in the library a welcome break from the activity that seemed to always be at his place. There were no loud, rough housing football players screaming at something on the TV or an endless parade of girls flitting in and out of whoever’s room they’d eventually pass out in.

He closed his eyes when the quick whiff of jasmine hit his nose. It was a familiar scent, something his mom kept in her garden. The sound of the steady clip of heels coming closer accompanied the scent, announcing the girl's arrival.

“Well, I think we might get snow.” Keira’s voice moved just next to Kona’s head and he smiled at the sound. It was soothing with a hint of melody behind the inflection and he didn’t have to look at her to know she’d calmed down from her earlier mood.

Relaxed against the sofa, head still reclined back and legs spread so that no one would be tempted to sit next to him, Kona smiled at the dig he knew was meant for him. “Is that supposed to be a joke about me being here?”

“It’d only rain since you’re here.” She flopped next to him on the couch and moved his leg to make room for herself. She was bold, a little bolder than she had been that first day in class and he understood that she was likely putting up a good show, trying to convince him that he didn’t intimidate her at all. “It’ll snow because you made it before me.”

“Funny. Real funny.” Kona moved his head to the side and had to quickly close his open mouth when he opened his eyes to look at Keira. The oversized jacket was gone. She looked comfortable, relaxed, wearing a simple light blue cardigan that fell just above her hips. She didn’t look like she put up much of an effort getting ready for their meeting, but she did look good, hair straight and slick, soft against her shoulders, jeans crisp and starched. It was only the third time he’d seen her away from their class and Kona figured the big hoodies were simply an early morning routine. In normal clothes, she looked great. But she didn’t wear a stitch of makeup and her face was scrubbed clean, as though she’d just hopped out of the shower. “You look nice.” Kona exhaled, releasing an unconscious grunt when Keira moved her eyelids to hide the bright blue irises, as though she was trying to figure out his angle. “What? I can’t pay you a compliment?”

“Not without me thinking you’re plotting something.”

Laughing, Kona held up his hands, surrendering defeat before she could accuse him of anything shifty. “I am plotless tonight, I swear.”

“Umhmm. I don’t buy it.” When she stood, hefting a large black backpack onto her shoulder, Kona followed her, walked two steps behind her so he could watch the subtle sway of her hips and catch a glimpse of the slight jiggle in her ass. He blinked twice, pulled his attention away from her when Keira led them into the elevator. “I reserved a study room on the third floor.”

“I thought they only held those for grad students.”

“And honor students,” she explained pounding twice on the button as though it would hurry the trip up the floors.

“Figures,” he said, leaning against the metal wall.

“What was that?” Those squinted eyes came back and Kona shook his head, ignoring how Keira had straightened her shoulder, preparing for an argument.

“Nothing.” He didn’t want to piss her off again. Fighting with some girl in the library would get back to his mother and he could really do without the endless bitching he knew would follow.

When the elevator doors opened, they settled into the tiny room with a small table and two chairs. There was barely space enough for both of them and Kona let Keira sit first, let her pull out her notebook and pen before he sat across from her. He watched her expression when he moved the door closed, but she didn’t argue, didn’t seem nervous about being alone with him in the confined space. Never mind that the walls were glass; that nothing shocking could go on in one of these rooms without everyone on the floor getting an eyeful.

Kona pushed the lingering, bawdy thought from his mind, not wanting to let the image of the girl over him, better still, under him, play on with too much detail in his imagination. This girl was hot, but she wouldn’t be down for what he wanted. He could tell. Keira was just too uptight to have any kind of fun with him.

“Okay, we need to set up a schedule. We’ll have to connect the Legends or at least thematic elements in them with a contemporary work with the same elements. So, write down whatever pops into your head and what you’re willing to do and we can work a schedule accordingly. I’ll type it up this weekend.” Her voice was clear, firm and Kona got that this was Keira getting down to business. She wasn’t awkward now, wasn’t blushing like a virgin on her wedding night as he looked over her features. He kind of liked her taking charge. It didn’t happen often when he interacted with girls.

“This weekend?” he asked, amazed but not really surprised that Keira was the type to spend her free time studying. “You plan on working all weekend?”

“No, I have a meet on Saturday morning. After that I plan on working.”

He shook his head and leaned back against the chair, one arm resting behind him. “Not going to celebrate our win?”

When Keira only frowned, Kona thought he might have annoyed her. She did this funny thing with her mouth—a twitch of her bottom lip and then a deep frown—when she was debating something; as though whatever she was thinking had to be weighed and sorted in her head before she decided to speak. Yep, crazy uptight, he thought.

“That statement implies a lot of assumption.” Keira pointed at him with her pen to emphasize her argument.

“We’re going to win.” That shouldn’t have been in doubt. Even though the season had just started, everyone on campus knew that they had yet to lose a game. This weekend they played LSU. Gerry DiNardo’s team was having a shitty season. They were currently ranked at 15 and CPU, at 3, was faster, more elusive. No way would the Tigers beat them.

“That’s one assumption,” Keira said, waving her pen as though she didn’t care about the game. “But you assume I follow football. I don’t.”

Kona blinked at her, astounded. “What?” She leaned back when he rested his elbows on the table and worked his gaze over her face. He wanted to see if his bullshit detector went off. She had to be messing with him. Even the most self-absorbed gold diggers on campus followed the team. Everyone did. It was a given. “You do know you’re attending the university whose football team has won the Sugar Bowl the last three years straight?”

“No, I’m attending the university whose English department has a sister program with Oxford.”

“That’s…seriously?”

“Seriously.” Keira’s expression remained controlled. There was no twitch moving her lips, no understated tic in her composed expression that told him she was joking.

It made sense when he thought about it. He’d watched her in class, watched how she and that Leann girl kept to themselves, only speaking to Miller when he asked them direct questions. She got off on the literature shit their professor droned on about endlessly. And from what he’d learned about Keira today when he flirted for information with a few girls on the cross country team, only confirmed what he had guessed. Keira didn’t have many friends, she kept to herself, seemed to always be in the library or locked up in her dorm. “That explains so much.”

“What does?” For just a second that control slipped, her unflustered expression fractured, the relaxed set of her features jumped to worry, but it disappeared before Kona could mention it.

“You. Figures someone like you wouldn’t be into sports and would have a hardon for old dead white guys who wrote plays and sonnets.”

That earned him a smile, but just a small one. Keira dropped the pen and folded her fingers on top of the table, just inches from his hands. “And what about you? I bet your major is something like Advanced Throwing or Caveman Studies.”

Her dig surprised him, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. “You’re funny. No seriously, you’re freakin hilarious.”

“Right back at you.” Kona laughed at the exaggerated roll of Keira’s eyes and he decided right then he liked her relaxed. He liked the way her normally stoic expression softened the hard stretch of her cheeks; how when she found something funny those blue eyes of hers seemed lighter, nearly gray. But then he stared a second too long at her and Keira stopped smiling. That newborn softened expression melted from her face. “What?” Her voice was sharp, defensive.

He sighed and moved his head in a shake. “You got a real problem interacting with people, right?”

“I’m fine with people. It’s you I’m not crazy about.”

“What did I ever do to you?” The glare she gave him told him she still hadn’t forgiven him for standing her up. “Aside from missing our first meeting.”

“I don’t like players and I don’t like entitled jackasses.”

Ouch, he thought, wondering exactly what she’d heard about him. He thought the “entitled” comment was this side of ridiculous. “Woah, hold on a second. You think I’m a player?”

“You offered to do me if I did this project on my own.”

“Did I say that?”

The blush returned, colored her smooth skin as though she thought she might had misinterpreted Kona’s not so subtle offer that first day in class, but when he smiled at her, she recovered, hid her embarrassment behind her fingers over her cheeks. “You didn’t have to. It was in your eyes.”

Kona liked teasing her, liked seeing that pretty flush warm her skin. At her suggestion, he thought he’d push her a little further to see just how pink her cheeks would get. “That’s your own perverted mind, sweetheart. How do you know I wasn’t talking about tickets to the game or offering to wash your car?”

“You licked your lips and looked like you wanted to eat me whole.”

Now there’s a good idea, he thought. “You offering?”

Keira’s laugh seemed real. She didn’t hide behind anything just then. She didn’t look away from him, or dip her head like she couldn’t manage to stare at him head on. And Kona took that laugh and the insult behind it, because he liked her smile, he liked how her laughter was sweet, sexy.

“You really are full of yourself.”

“You don’t know me.” He knocked his knuckles against her wrist so that she’d know he wasn’t pissed.

“And you don’t know me.” Keira cleared her throat, as though she wanted to push back her humor and the smile Kona had raised in her. Pen in hand, she pulled the notebook toward her and tapped the end against the white paper. “So why don’t we stop chatting and get through this. The sooner it’s over, the quicker we can go back to acting like we don’t know each other.”

“There’s a problem with that.” When she frowned again, seeming a little confused that he was challenging her, Kona made sure his smile was sweet and not flirty, that he didn’t bite his lip. “Maybe I want to know you now. You’re angry, maybe I want to know why that is. I like girls who don’t put up with shit.”

“Sounds like you’ve got some mommy issues.” Kona’s smile shifted swiftly and Keira grabbed his hand, gave it a playful shove. “Hey, that was a joke. You know, funny, ha ha?”

“Yeah. I’m in freakin stitches. How would you like me trashing your mom?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t care.” She sat back, withdrew from the good nature of their interaction and Kona knew he’d hit a nerve. “I know what a domineering bitch my mom is. Go ahead an insult her all you like.”

“Well, that’s just sad.”

“Spare me your sympathy.”

Kona wasn’t good with awkward silences. Really, he hadn’t experienced many of them. He always seemed able to take the funk out of any girl he’d pissed off or lighten the mood with a little flirting, maybe some mild touching. But Keira wasn’t like the girls he’d been around. She didn’t do bullshit pacifying. She was blunt, and he liked that about her, but he also knew there was a reason she rarely smiled. He didn’t know her well enough to ask where that came from so he relied on what he was good at; on the skills that never failed to keep girls happy when he was around them.

“Hey, what do you call a dog with no legs?”

“What the—“

“You can call him anything you want, but that asshole ain’t coming to you.”

And just like that, the awkwardness passed. Keira’s laughter returned and despite the dumbass joke, Kona smiled, liking that she wasn’t so uptight that she didn’t dismiss his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that’s bad.”

“I know, but it made you smile.” He pulled out his own pen and moved Keira’s notebook around so he could write on it. “Come on, let’s get this shit done.”

CHAPTER FOUR

KEIRA

“THREE YEARS of off-the-radar self-defense classes, Kona. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Off the radar?”

Keira shrugged, a flippant gesture that she had to force. She wasn’t interested in detailing her private life. Not to Kona, not to anyone really. “My mom’s radar. She doesn’t think women who are athletic can find husbands so I took the self-defense classes when I supposed to be going to Mass.”

Keira was reminded of Father Reynolds, the funny, excitable Irish priest in her parish. He’d had an affinity for Bruce Lee and was obsessed with jiu jitsu. When she’d asked him about self-defense classes in the privacy of the confessional, Father Reynolds forgot all about doling out absolution for her transgressions. Instead, they made a pact. He’d cover for her when her mother mentioned Keira attending Mass, but she had to promise to show him what she’d learned.

“But you run track.” Kona’s deep voice erased the warm memory of Father Reynolds and his boney legs trying to perfect a roundhouse. Keira noticed that Kona wasn’t walking behind her now. He was at her side, so close she could smell the faint hint of sweat and cologne.

“Yeah, well, running doesn’t count to her. Not much of what I do counts for much with her.” A brief glance up at his face and Keira smiled, amused by how confused Kona looked. It was that frown, those pushed together eyebrows that had Keira finishing her explanation. “She says track is good for my muscle tone and will keep my hips narrow.” Another scan at him and Keira stopped walking. He was no longer frowning, no longer seemed perplexed by her explanation. Kona watched her for a moment, something he did when she told him unbelievable things, and she hated the pitying expression on his face. She hated that he was gleaning more about her relationship with her mother, just as he had tried to do when they were in the study room.

Seeing that expression unnerved her. So did the way he stood at her side, with his eyes fanning around them. He looked on guard, territorial. Keira didn’t like how casually they walked together. She did not like that their steps had kept time with one another, that their movements down the steps and onto the sidewalk felt comfortable, natural. “Point being, I don’t need you to walk me to my dorm.”

“It’s late, Keira.” He didn’t stare at her when he said that. Instead, Kona looked over her head, to the empty sidewalk and the road that ran in front of them. The rain had slowed to a mist and the sky above had calmed. Still, Keira wasn’t scared of the emptiness. She craved it. It had often been a companion that she never tried to drive away.

“It is,” she told him, adjusting her backpack further up her shoulder before she walked away from Kona. He followed. “And I’m capable of fending off would-be whoevers.”

“My car is at Kenner.” Two small strides and he again kept time with her. “You’re just a little ways from there in Graham, right? I’m going in that direction.”

That stopped her instantly. She didn’t recall mentioning her dorm. “How do you know where I live?” She didn’t remember, in fact, even telling him her name. But Kona Hale was resourceful and well connected, she’d figured he’d find out what he could about her despite her nondisclosures. When he only shrugged, avoided staring at anything but her frown, Keira sidestepped, making him look down at her. “You checked up on me?”

Kona widened his stance, defensive, preparing for something that Keira had no intention of starting. She had no desire to argue with this guy. She’d had enough of him for one night, but that didn’t mean she was going to walk away from him, letting him think it was okay to nose around in her business. She cocked one eyebrow, tapped her foot and Kona relented, let his arms hang loose and unclenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t tell me your name. I had to find out so I didn’t look like an asshole when we met tonight.”

Leann would never tell Kona anything. Besides, Keira knew her cousin had spent the entire day in the theater building preparing for the dance recital for her Advanced Lyrical class. The only other people that knew anything about her were her teammates. Most of them were giggling, stupid bitches that only ran because their team locker room was right next to the football team’s. Unbelievable, she thought, ticking off the names in her head of each girl she planned to bitch out. “You could have asked, you know.”

“I did.” Back again was Kona’s sigh and that time he added the slump of his wide shoulders. “You wouldn’t say shit.”

Flustered and more annoyed that their meeting hadn’t been as horrible as Keira thought it might be, she looked away from him, stepped back so that the temptation to roll her eyes left her. Tonight had been, not nice, no, but surprising. Kona was clever, she knew that by the brief mentions he made about his Calculus and Finite Mathematics classes. Keira didn’t like it, didn’t like him, and especially did not like that her assumptions about the beefy Volkswagen had been wrong.

“I’ll see you in class,” she told him, walking away before he could stop her. Keira wasn’t naive and just the small interactions she’d had with Kona told her he wasn’t the sort of guy who just did as he was told and let things lie. She knew for every step she made toward Graham, Kona made two.

But she wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she wondered if he was behind her. Keira didn’t know why he cared or what had motivated the change in his attitude. Maybe it was her temper in the cafeteria. She certainly hadn’t ever acted that furious in class, and in her mind Keira heard her mother’s cool, nagging voice telling her she’d waved a red flag right in the big bull’s face.

Keira pulled her cardigan tighter around her chest, trying to shake off the swift breeze rustling the large pine trees that lined the sidewalk. As she hurried over the wet pavement, she passed a girl, Bethany, she thought her name was, that lived two doors down from her and Leann. She only managed the nod because, again, her mother’s voice popped into her head.

The woman told her not to chat, not to become too friendly. “Other girls,” her mother would say, “are at the university for the same reason you are, Keira. They’re working on their MRS. degree.”

The sad thing was, her mother really believed that. She didn’t expect much from Keira, she never had. She wanted her daughter to keep fit. She wanted her educated because she believed that the best wives of doctors and lawyers were the ones who could carry on intelligent conversations. Keira wasn’t friendly by nature and blamed that on her mother’s constant niggles about other girls being competition. She knew that archaic mentality was her mother’s issue, not Keira’s, but the refrain of keeping yourself guarded, of seeing other girls as the enemy, kept Keira from socializing with anyone but her cousin.

When Graham Hall came into view, Keira slowed down, figuring by now Kona had given up and jumped into his car at Kenner. The sidewalk was completely empty and Keira relaxed, thinking of nothing but a hot shower and her warm bed. It was this thought, in fact, that kept her senses dull, kept her instinct silent as she walked near the dim alley between Graham and a row of married housing.

She did not hear the break of limbs against sneakers or feel the shadow behind her until she slipped into the dark corner of the building. A stranger came at her fast like a whip and managed to grab hold of her backpack before she could react.

“Hey!” she shouted, more surprised than mad that the guy in the black t-shirt and worn jeans had managed to catch her off guard. “That’s my shit, you asshole.”

“Mine now, bitch.” And he took off, laughing over his shoulder as Keira followed. Her Nokia, her wallet, her keys were all in that bag and Keira didn’t rationalize the stupidity of chasing after the thief until she was right behind him, until he stopped short and lifted his fist ready to strike.

When his hand came forward, Keira dipped, moving out of his way to land a punch right on his chin. It stung, and she swung around, cradling her fist against her chest, ready to bite back the pain when he lunged forward.

“You wanna fight? Let’s tussle.” The guy wasn’t large, stood only a few inches taller than Keira, but the glint in his eyes was fierce, desperate.

Keira dodged, twisting to the left when he charged her, and fell back, right against the curve of the sidewalk and the protruding screws of the street drain.

“That’s what I thought,” the guy said, laughing at Keira who’d landed in a fresh puddle of rainwater.

“You thought what, motherfucker?” Kona came out of nowhere and in one swipe of his massive hands, Keira’s bag fell to the ground as the thief’s feet left the pavement. “You didn’t seriously just try taking her shit, did you?” The huge linebacker shook the guy once, then squeezed his fingers around the thief's neck, holding him up with one hand.

“Dude stop…please…—” The guy could barely let the words lift from his mouth before Kona shook him again.

“Stop what? Huh, punk?” Another throttle and the kid started to choke. Bright, red streaks of heat collected on Kona’s cheek. Keira had seen fights before, most of them between her parents before her father took his leave, but she had never seen this. She had never seen the look of pure hatred, of vile loathing in anyone’s expression. It was one Kona wore as he continued to squeeze his large fingers around the guy’s throat.

It was in that moment, with her heart drumming hard, that something twisted in Keira’s brain, something more frightening than being mugged in an alleyway. Instinct should have told her to stop Kona, to plead with him not to hurt the much smaller guy dangling from his hands. But she didn’t. Not immediately. The hot whip of pleasure shot through her veins and the inexplicable, uncontrollable sensation of desire hardened her nipples.

Kona’s violent display completely turned Keira on.

The thief managed to kick at Kona, but the effort was weak, barely registering against Kona’s solid legs. Around them, lights from married housing started to click on and Keira came back to herself, ignored the warm throb pulsing between her legs. She got to her feet, retrieved her bag. “Kona, stop it,” she told him, coming next to him, but still keeping a good two feet away. He didn’t listen, didn’t relax his grip at all.

The guy tried again, landing slap after slap against Kona’s head, but it had no effect. Keira suddenly realized that she hadn’t wanted to be the cause of something that could turn very bad. So she dropped her bag and touched Kona’s shoulder. It was only a graze of her fingertips against his shirt, but the feather touched stopped him.

“Just stop. You’ll kill him,” she told Kona, stepping back when he dropped the guy to the ground.

Kona’s attention was divided between Keira’s cautious, stern voice and the kid at his feet struggling for breath. “Don’t you move, asshole,” he told the thief, but from the look of him, Keira knew the guy couldn’t have moved if he wanted to.

“Are you okay?” Kona shifted his gaze to her, but Keira’s didn’t want to focus on that confused frown on his face.

“I’m fine. My back hurts a little, but I’m okay.” He acted instantly, darting toward the kid on the ground before Keira grabbed his arm. “Hey, stop it.” He ignored the moaning, choking kid and stilled as though he’d been leashed. This time, that close contact stopped Keira where she stood. How had she missed it before? Kona’s wide, warm arm beneath her fingers, the rounding of his eyes, was nothing to the sharp lick of fire shooting up her fingers. Her stomach coiled and Keira felt like someone had punched her right in the gut. She didn’t know what it was, had never felt anything like it before. The darkness around them grew dense, weighted and it seemed to Keira that every breath that left her opened mouth, that left Kona’s, froze in the mist around them. It scared her. It scared Kona too, she could tell. His eyes fell to her hand which was still touching him, and Keira jerked her arm back, curled her hands into her back pockets.

The moment passed and whatever had moved between them was lost in Kona’s distraction over the guy who was now coming onto his knees. Kona helped him up, but it wasn’t a friendly gesture, more an aggressive lurch on his arm and then a shove against the pine tree behind them. The kid looked like he was going to vomit and his hands immediately went to his bruising neck. But Kona just stood there, glaring down at him.

“You touch this girl, you touch any girls again and I’ll find out about it.” He moved his shoulders, a quick threatening jerk, and the thief knocked his head against the tree in his flinch. “You don’t want me finding out about that shit.” One quick twist of his chin and Kona stepped back. “Get out of here before I really get pissed.”

Kona didn’t give Keira a second to analyze what happened or what she felt. Her jeans were a soaking mess and her back felt like it was on fire, but Kona’s attention seemed distracted, seemed focused on shaking the dirt and grime from her arm, checking her limbs, moving her face as he looked her over. Seeming satisfied that she wasn’t injured, he picked up her backpack and handed it to her.

Keira ignored the lick of fire that had passed between them. It was the adrenaline of her attack, a weird relief that somehow she’d been rescued. Shit, she thought. He saved me like a damn Disney princess. The thought erased the gut punch pleasure that was still coursing in her stomach. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Mouth open, coming up in a small scowl, Kona shook his head as though he’d expected a thank you and not Keira’s bitching. “He was trying to gank your stuff.”

Keira slapped the dirt from her backpack, ignoring Kona’s words. “And you didn’t have to follow me.”

“It’s a good thing I did. You couldn’t have handled that shit.”

She wouldn’t let him be the hero. At least, not more than he’d already had been. Keira knew her face was flaming, knew that her embarrassment at needing a rescue was something Kona wouldn’t understand. She was tired already, from the long night in the library, from the shock of her attack, and could only manage a quick, self-deprecating nod in Kona’s direction before she turned around and headed toward her dorm. But two steps seemed one too many and Keira flinched, her back seizing up.

Kona darted behind her, holding her arms under his larger fingers. “What is it? You hurt?”

“Probably just a bruise. It’s nothing.” Kona disregarded Keira’s half-hearted attempts to pull out of his touch when he grabbed her elbow. “Come on, we’re taking you to the infirmary.”

“No, we aren’t,” she said, twisting her slim arm out of his fist. She looked over her shoulder to check if there was any blood on her shirt and again the pain rose up, making her wince. Kona pulled up from the sidewalk, that strong hand still on her arm and she stopped walking, stepping away from him. They’d only spent an hour or so together tonight, but Keira knew already that he was stubborn. Shoulders slumping, she tried to convince him she’d had enough rescuing for the night. “It was just a bump against the busted drain. There’s not even any blood.”

“You don’t know for sure.”

“You’re being paranoid.” Kona’s eyes narrowed and those deep dimples in his cheeks faded. She knew brushing him off wouldn’t work, so she tried making him see reason. “Think about it…you take me to the infirmary and they’ll ask questions. I kind of figured you don’t want anyone on your team or your coaches to know you choked some skinny punk.”

Kona bit the inside of his cheek and rested his hands at his hips, gaze moving to street drain that had caused Keira’s small injury. Finally, as though he’d finished whatever asinine examination moved through his thoughts, Kona looked back at her. “Fine, let’s go to your room so I can check it out.”

“What?” He was crazy. There was no way she was going to let him into her room. She could manage on her own. She’d wait until Leann was back, but one glance at the determined set of Kona’s mouth and that high arching eyebrow told Keira he wouldn’t go for that either. “You’re not coming into my room.” She thought her voice was strong, but when she said “my room” the words came out high-pitched and cracked, destroying any meager attempts to sound firm.

Kona acted as though Keira hadn’t said anything. He just took her arm and led her toward her building, his grip easy, but still steady. “If I wanted in your room, believe me, I could get in. Besides, you won’t be able to check for yourself.”

“I can.” She tried twisting away from him again, but his grip was like a vice on her elbow.

“You double jointed or something?” For the first time since Kona had nearly choked that kid, the frown left his face, replaced by what Keira could only guess was a wistful grin of hope.

“I can get one of the girls to help me.”

“Keira, I watched you.” He stopped them just before they reached the bottom steps of her building, but did not release her arm. “You don’t even look up when you’re walking down the sidewalk. You don’t smile and acknowledge anybody. The only person I’ve ever seen you with is that Leann girl in class. I highly doubt you’re cool with the girls in your dorm. Stop being pigheaded and let’s check this out.”

***

KONA

Kona had been in many dorm rooms. CPU girls didn’t have a problem letting him hang out, in fact, they encouraged it. There had been that redhead from Spencer who practically sat on his lap when he told her he had to leave and the blonde from Easton that invited him over at two a.m. Her opening the door completely naked had been something akin to the warmest welcome he’d ever gotten.

To him, going into a girl’s dorm usually only meant one thing; the thing he loved most. The thing that most twenty-year-old guys loved most. But Kona wasn’t in Keira’s dorm for that. He’d like to be, maybe, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

In all those slipping-in-for-a-little-hey-now times he’d been to the girls’ dorm-side of campus, he’d never once bothered to give more than a passing glance at how they lived. Most times, he barely took note of the color of their walls or the fluffy pillows and the feel of their sheets.

“Give me a second,” Keira said, waving him in before she threw her bag onto her bed and headed to the bathroom. Keira didn’t have fluffy pillows and her bed was made up like a soldier’s, corners tight and simple white comforter with small blue pillows lined against the headboard.

The room was divided with Keira’s bed on the right and her roommate’s on the left. The difference between the two was enormous. Where Keira’s side was uniformed, bordering on obsessively organized, her roommate’s was chaos. Shoes on the left side of the room where thrown haphazardly under the bed and discarded shirts, skirts and bras littered the unmade bed. Keira’s shoes were neatly stacked on a white shoe rack next to her desk and a dark wood dresser was next to the door with only a small silver box and two framed pictures on top of it.

In one of the frames, Kona spotted a smiling Keira, probably ten or so years younger with her arm around the waist of a man that had to be a relative. Standing on the deck of the paddleboat, the Creole Queen, with the Mississippi River wide and endless behind them, they had the same smile, the same bright, round blue eyes and both stared at the camera with their heads tilted to the right. Kona thought Keira hadn’t changed much since that picture was taken. Sure, she’d grown, her hips were now wider, her limbs longer, but her face looked much the same—open, honest with the faintest spattering of freckles dotted sparsely over her cheeks.

Next to that picture was a current one of Keira wearing a fairy costume with wide, green wings and glitter intricately arranged around her eyes. She was smirking, not smiling wide as though she was happy, but she still looked friendly, relaxed. At her side in the frame was that Leann girl Kona had always seen her with, dressed in coordinating fairy wings, blue with yellow edges. Upon closer inspection of both faces, Kona saw similarities—Leann’s hair was lighter, thinner and her eyes weren’t quite as round or as blue, but the high cheekbones were the same, as was the arch of their noses and the full pout of their lips.

“My cousin, Leann. We room together,” Keira said, coming to stand next to Kona. He nodded, but made his gaze return to the picture of Keira as a little girl. The frame was cold in his hand when he picked it up and he motioned the picture toward her, curious.

Kona noticed that Keira’s face softened when her eyes ran over the picture, that the straight line of her mouth was less severe. After a few seconds, she blinked and looked up at him. “My dad.” She took the picture from Kona, kept her gaze on the glass for a few seconds, thumb moving over the man’s face, before she replaced it on her dresser.

“When did he die?” His question surprised her, and the soft edges of her faint smile twisted into a frown. “You’d make a crap actor, Keira. Everything you’re thinking is all over your face.” Kona moved his chin toward the picture, but didn’t take his eyes off her expression. “No way you’d look at your dad like that if he was still around.”

She exhaled, shoved the hair off her shoulder and when she spoke, her voice was low, so low in fact that Kona thought she didn’t want him hearing her. “I was ten.” Then louder, she said, “I don’t talk about it.”

He wouldn’t push her. The night had been stupid with drama and from the brief time they’d spent together Kona figured out that Keira’s temper was swift. He just didn’t have the energy to argue with her and he was damn tired of apologizing.

He gave her a nod, a silent understanding he hoped would let her know he wouldn’t pry.

Keira waved her hand around the room, a flippant gesture. “Where do you want to do this?”

One step toward the bed, as Keira moved in the same direction, and their shoulders touched. She wobbled a little unsteady on her feet and Kona held her elbow, his fingers moving down to her wrist. That same weird sensation he’d felt outside returned when she pulled his fingers from her arm. He didn’t know what the hell it was or if it meant anything at all, but he noticed how Keira held her breath at the touch, how her bottom lip dropped so that her mouth formed the smallest circle. Yeah, she felt it too, but his brief experience with her, had Kona guessing she would play it off, act as if the electricity she felt came from carpet static at her feet.

She blinked, moved her eyes away from him and Kona repressed the urge to call her out, tell her she was ignoring whatever was heating the air in her room. Instead, he chose to flirt.

He made sure his voice was deep, commanding before he took a step, got too close, breathed too hard against the top of her head. “Get on your bed.”

“What?” she said, eyes round, a little frightened.

Kona moved the right side of his mouth up, bit back the small flirty comment that itched the tip of his tongue. Keira was jumpy, a little anxious and he liked it. “How else am I supposed to check out your back?”

The small attempts he’d made tonight at getting her to relax were gone. The Keira standing in front of him, taking a step, two steps back as he walked toward her, reminded him of the girl he met in class earlier in the week. She tugged her hair off her neck and kept her eyes on her shoes. She was clearly nervous, obvious in her discomfort and Kona knew why. At least, he thought he did. Despite her attitude, the occasional sailor language, Keira was a good girl, the kind that didn’t often have boys in her room, maybe the sort that rarely spoke to guys in general. That told him one thing—she was inexperienced.

Ignoring that thought, Kona sighed, made sure he stepped back so that the burning red color on her cheeks would fade. “I’ll be a gentleman. Promise.” Kona motioned toward the bed, tried not to laugh as Keira eyed him, settled on the mattress with her back straight.

He wanted to laugh, to make a joke about how nervous she was, how stupid it was to think he’d try to take advantage of her. Then the blush on Keira’s face grew, shifted down her neck, to her arms and Kona caught a glimpse of her fingers, of her lips, shaking as though she’d caught a chill.

I make her nervous, he realized and the thought had him feeling contradictory emotions—pride, knowing that she wasn’t as resistant to him as she liked to pretend she was, and shame, remorse, that him just being here was making an already shitty night worse.

Back tight like a horse needle, Keira stilled, stopped moving completely as Kona slipped behind her, bringing his knee next to her hip. The proximity wasn’t necessary, but Kona wanted to test this thing, that weird electric something that had moved between them outside. He wouldn’t push her, hell no, that wasn’t his style, but he had caught a couple of glances from her in the library that made him think she wasn’t as disgusted by him as he thought. Really, he should have felt like a bastard. Less than a foot separated them on Keira’s firm, too tidy, too white bed. His breath moved down her back, rustling the brown hair that covered her cardigan. He could feel something there, something strange, something he couldn’t decide if he liked. And Kona knew he should give her distance, shouldn’t use Keira like a guinea pig.

But her hair glowed against the faint overhead light and the sweet jasmine scent had his fingers itching, aching to touch her. In one hand, Kona took her hair in his hand, moving it over her shoulder. It was softer than he expected, thick wisps of silk that felt good, indulgent against his fingers, but he didn’t linger on how sweet she smelled, how much he liked the feel of her hair running through his fingers.

“I, ah, have to lift your shirt up,” he said. He waited a second for her to fuss, to move away from him, but then Keira looked over her shoulder, eyes still narrowed and tight before she nodded once.

Fingers barely grazing her skin, Kona lifted the shirt, revealing the pale, soft flesh, the faint looping birthmark on her lower back, the delicate white bra. His mouth watered and Kona closed his eyes, tried not to lean over her, tried to keep his mouth from that tempting back.

Keira’s skin was smooth, enticing, and Kona smiled at the contrast between the muscle there and the dark skin of his rough hands. Light and dark. Night and day, and he didn’t mind how different she was from him.

She had a strong back, curved with long muscle that made her spine concave, defined. Fine, barely there baby hairs rose when he pushed the sweater up, set it on her shoulders.

He squeezed his fingers once, a touch Kona hoped she took as reassuring and he thought she moaned, thought maybe she’d liked his hot breath against her exposed back, but he wouldn’t see how far she’d let him touch her, how much of her she’d show him. He didn’t think that pushing her, that touching her more than was necessary just to see how she reacted to more of his hands, to his fingers against her damp skin, would soften that on-guard attitude Keira had. But it was hard for him to restrain himself. She was beautiful. He hadn’t seen that before the night when she had raged at him in the cafeteria, but seeing her back, how unguarded she was to him now, confirmed Kona’s suspicions that Keira Riley was a subtle beauty, more woman than girl.

A pent up, surprising sensation took hold of him then; it was the quick need to see her safe, to protect her. He’d caught a hint of it out on the street when that asshole stood over her, ready to pounce. In that moment, Kona hadn’t thought beyond racing toward them. He’d never experienced anything like it before, didn’t know why he felt so compelled to keep her away from everyone, anything that would threaten her.

The bruises had already formed. They were faint, imprints of the screws sticking out from the drain, but there was no blood, nothing more than brush burns really. Tentatively, Kona ran his thumb along the raw scratches and Keira winced, shuddered.

“Sorry. You okay?”

Her nod was quick, likely forced and Kona didn’t think the goose bumps on her arms, shooting down her back was from any pain she’d felt. Right then, in the quiet, still dorm room Kona decided that her beautiful, strong back was one of his favorites things about Keira and if she ever gave him a shot, it would be one of the first places he kissed her.

Her back had not relaxed. It had, in fact, grown stiffer, straighter as he touched her and Kona smiled to himself, kept his humor in check at how uncomfortable she seemed, how she was so convinced that he simply wasn’t to be trusted.

“You know,” he said, keeping his palm flat, still next to the largest bruise, “I’m not such an asshole.” Kona could only see the sharp arch of her eyebrow when she looked over her shoulder. “And I wouldn’t use a situation like this to take advantage of a girl.”

“I never said…”

“I don’t have to, Keira.”

He hoped she caught his meaning. He hoped she knew that he wasn’t like her. They were so different, and part of him wanted her knowing the truth. He wanted her, he’d be a liar to deny that to himself. Keira was all soft and supple, but with edges he didn’t think she’d let him breech. He didn’t want anything more than to taste her, touch more, but that would be it for him. He had no time for anything more than a hookup and he figured that Keira wasn’t a hook up kind of girl. Her nervousness, the anxious way she held herself as he touched her, told Kona that she didn’t know what to do with herself, how to handle the sensations of his hands on her, of her being vulnerable to him.

He knew she was probably a virgin and for a brief second, Kona thought what a delicious temptation that was and if he was the bastard she thought he was, he’d take her right here, show her how to move that fit body, teach her what feels best, what takes the ache away. He was an asshole, sure, definitely a bit of a slut, but Kona wasn’t a bastard.

Keira didn’t comment on his admission, she didn’t do much more but stretch her neck to look him in the eyes and Kona couldn’t smile, didn’t have a single smartass comment to make. He could only stare back at her, return that intense gaze, watch those full, parted lips, how they glistened from the light above them.

He wasn’t a bastard, wouldn’t try to get her to give in to him, but he was a twenty-year old boy sitting too close to a beautiful girl. Kona let his hand rest on her neck, let his thumb rub along the soft, soft skin there before he moved back the hair from her forehead.

“You’re good,” he told her, voice low, raspy.

“I’m what?”

He smiled, eyes flicking down to her back. “Just a couple of bruises and some small brush burns.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He lowered her shirt, unable to stop himself from dragging the tips of his fingers along her skin. He reached up, brushed back that soft skin from her shoulder. Kona couldn’t make his hand leave her hair. He wanted to see what she would do, if she’d lean against him, move her head toward his and steal a kiss. There was a small, lingering moment when they only stared at each other, two sets of eyes moving over each other’s faces and Kona couldn’t help himself, loved the pretty blush that worked over her pale cheeks when he was arrogant and flirting.

“You want me…” Keira’s eyebrows rose, but Kona stopped her protest before she could make it “you want me to do anything else?” He liked how expressive her face was, how slow she blinked, when his fingertips brushed against her back.

She shook her head, worried the inside of her mouth as though she was thinking of other things Kona could do to help her out. He didn’t think those thoughts included changing a light bulb or stopping the slow drip he heard from the bathroom sink. Keira hadn’t moved, hadn’t slapped his hand away from her neck and he realized, with that open, eager expression on her face that Keira had no clue the power she could have. That expressive face and sumptuous body made him, would make any man, stuttering idiots if she chose to use her attributes to her advantage. Given a bit more confidence, Keira could rule the fucking world.

The tension in the room had grown too thick, too intense and so Kona dropped his hand, knew that he needed to put distance between them before he did something Keira wasn’t ready for.

“I should go.” He let her leave the bed first, didn’t say anything about how fast she got to her feet. When he picked up his bag and leaned against the door, Keira took to biting the inside of her cheek again and Kona tried not to smile. “You sure I can’t do anything else?”

Keira’s hair moved against her shoulder when she shook her head. “No, I’m good.” Kona had to jump back as she took hold of the door handle, dismissing him. “Thank you, though.”

The awkwardness was back, but Kona didn’t think the time was right for another stupid joke. “I’ll see you in class.” Keira nodded, staring down at the floor and Kona breathed a little easier, a little clearer when he walked into the hallway. Then, she called him back, stopped him with a throaty whisper of his name. “Yeah?” he said, turning to face her.

He knew she was debating what she wanted to say. She shuffled her feet in a nervous step before she opened her mouth again. “Um…good luck tomorrow.”

When Kona smiled, the gesture was sincere because he knew she didn’t care how he played, how well they performed. Keira wanted to say something, he could tell, but he let his assumption die on his tongue and only offered her a wink before he left down the hall.

CHAPTER FIVE

KEIRA

KEIRA LIKED the feel of the keys under her fingertips and the low, steady hum of motherboards working in the sterile lab. Here, in the library’s small computer room, Keira could think, had access to those large databases that would open up the past. There were articles and papers older than her country; collected microfiche data all nestled together and accessible with the click of her fingers on the keyboard.

Professor Miller sat in the corner of the room reading, occasionally frowning at the probable typos in the student newspaper. Everyone worked in silence, looking through the library’s databases or sending ages old articles to the printer. It was peaceful; an easy cluster of silent space where Keira could think without distraction.

“I don’t see why this project is such a big deal.” There goes the silence, she thought and rolled her eyes at Kona when he waved off the librarian who shushed him.

The big linebacker sat next to her in front of a computer that wasn’t even on. Despite how often she jabbed him with her elbow, Kona had done little more than play a game of solitaire or cast quick, not subtle looks in her direction.

Keira didn’t know how to respond to these lengthy stares. That night in her room had caused something to shift between them. Neither of them mentioned it and they’d spent most of their time together either talking about their paper or not speaking at all. It had gone on for over a week now and every time they met, at the library or in the cafeteria, the tension only grew.

Next to her he sighed and the exhale was so forced that Keira was obliged to look at him. A quick eye shift from her face to her computer screen and she guessed that this was one of those moments where Kona actually wanted to kill the quiet.

“The Legends can be tied into just about any story you can think of.”

“Bullshit.” He nodded once when Miller cleared his throat and rumpled the paper in his hand, a clear reprimand that Kona should shut the hell up.

Keira lowered her voice so low that Kona had to lean next to her to hear her. “There’s an old theory that dictates only seven archetypes, or seven basic plots, exist in the world. I’d add that if there are only seven, then there are billion variations of those stories.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Keira leaned against her chair, pulled her hands away from the keyboard so she could give Kona her full attention. He gave her the same stare he’d been wearing for a week now, like he wasn’t quite sure what to think about her, but she had gotten through the week by not wondering what that expression meant.

“The Legends started as folk tales, parables and lessons on what you should and shouldn’t do. For the most part they are morality tales. Where do you think that sort of morality comes from?” Keira felt like a teacher, feeding bits of knowledge to a first grader. Kona was smart, she knew that, but literature and grammar weren't exactly topics of choice for the mathematically minded. Kona had quoted figures and tallies to her when they discussed how much money someone would lose if they’d bet against CPU in a game like his brain was a calculator. He could tick off statistic after statistic and the tackling efficiency of every linebacker in the NFL for the past twenty years. But he just didn’t care enough to be interested in the Legends or Shakespeare, or Chaucer or any of the other poets and scribes she’d asked him if he’d read during their meetings.

Kona frowned, shifted his eyes to his hands and then back at Keira’s face. “God?”

She nodded, offering him a quick smile. “When you’re talking about the Legends, then yes. So we have a system of Legends that cover pretty much the gambit of morality; lying, stealing, cheating, killing and the consequences of all those things. You can pretty much use any story as an example and relate it back to the Legends.”

Kona didn’t miss a beat. “Die Hard.” His smile wavered and he looked around the room, Keira guessed to make sure no one was listening. “I watched those movies with my kuku…um, kupunakane.” When Keira squinted, confused, Kona clarified, his voice dropping an octave. “My grandfather. He’s the only dad Luka and I ever really had and we’d all sit around watching those movies as kids on summer breaks when Mom was off doing research shit.” Kona looked over Keira’s head, at her chin, but not in her eyes as though giving Keira that small bit of information had surprised him.

Keira smiled and she liked Kona, just then, with his voice soft, with his eyes relaxed when he spoke about his grandfather. Typical, though, that he’d choose a ‘splosion’ film, that’s what she’d always called those gun-tottin’ ass kicking movies Leann loved to make her sit through. She wasn’t surprised that one of them was the first example Kona chose. “Okay. Well, Bruce Willis is a cop trying to get his wife away from terrorists.” When Kona only stared at her, seeming a bit more interested than he had a few minutes before, she continued. “He’s Arthur, on a quest. He’s searching for someone, like Arthur searched for the grail and along the way he has obstacles to overcome. Same as Bruce. The way the Legends unfold are what Joseph Campbell called ‘The Hero’s Journey.’ For the most part, every book, comic or movie is a hero’s journey.”

“Joseph Who?”

Keira tried not to sigh too loudly. They were getting along and she had to admit she didn’t hate his company as much as she thought she would. But damn, this guy was lazy as hell. “Kona, have you read anything this semester? It’s on our syllabus.” She pointed at the syllabus sticking out of his binder.

Kona took a quick glance down at his binder and then returned his attention to Keira. “I have ADD, Keira. It’s a little hard for me to focus on the material.” He shrugged, brushing off the revelation.

She nodded, offering Kona a grin that he seemed to like, telling her with his eyes that he was grateful that she didn’t pry.

“Campbell had a theory, several, actually, but his Hero Theory is classic, though he was a bit of a pig.” When Kona frowned at her, curious, she smiled. “He thought only men could be heroes.”

“Bullshit. I mean, hello, Sarah Conner?” he said, smile widening with Keira’s laugh. “You’d make a good teacher. You got the bossy, know-it-all tone perfected.” She punched his shoulder and his laughter rang in her ears.

“Music,” she said, not certain why she felt comfortable admitting that to him.

“What?”

Keira shrugged, tried to hide her quick blush by not looking him, returning her attention to the keyboard. “I don’t want to be a teacher. I want to write music.” The blush was there not because she was embarrassed to admit what she really wanted out of life, but because she was admitting it to him.

“Seriously?” Kona pulled on her sleeve to make her look at him. “But you’ve got a hard on for all this English shit.’

“I also have a mother who pays my tuition that doesn’t think music is a suitable major. But, I like words. I like stories, just not as much as music.” Another quick glance at him and Keira felt that blush deepening. But Kona didn’t laugh at her like she expected. He didn’t start to tease her for having a pipe dream. And so she felt relaxed, something that had been happening more and more frequently when she was around him. “Words and music, that’s my passion.” She laughed to herself when his smile got bigger, when he looked at her as though she’d just unveiled another piece in the puzzle he thought she was. Kona’s eyes were intense, moved over her face, landed on her mouth and Keira became uncomfortable, nervous at how he focused on her, how he seemed to be dissecting her expressions with that long, level gaze. “Um…” she started, trying to break his concentration, “what’s yours?”

“My what?”

“What are you passionate about, Kona?”

The smile left his face and Keira saw his lips move, she thought he was mouthing the word, “passion,” but she couldn’t be sure. When she nudged his arm, Kona’s grin disappeared. “Only one thing at the moment,” he said, recovering from that truthful admission with a shrug of his shoulders. “Playing the game.”

“Ah. The chase, I see.”

Kona opened his mouth, seemed determined to argue with her, but then Tonya Lucas, a rail thin blonde that lived three doors down from Keira, retrieved something from the printer. Her shirt was too tight, skirt barely covered her thighs and Kona noticed. Tonya’s gaze honed onto him and the low squint of her eyes, the way she barely pulled her bottom lip between her top teeth, told Keira that with Kona, there really wasn’t a chase.

When Tonya passed their table, gave Kona a wink, the linebacker smiled, watched her until she returned to her seat. Keira didn’t know why this bothered her. She didn’t know why she felt somehow slighted. But she didn’t mention it, didn’t let that overwhelming feeling that she was somehow less-than, somehow not enough, consume her. Instead she shifted her chair, pulled it closer to the table and the scratch of the leg against the floor, brought Kona back to her.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t talking about that game, smartass.” He nodded in Tonya’s direction. “Chasing ass isn’t a game for me, no matter what you think. I’m talking about football.”

“I guess everybody has to have something.”

“Exactly what I mean. You don’t get me playing, doing something I love and I don’t get why you’re so into a bunch of stories written a billion years ago.”

He wouldn’t understand, she thought, convinced that Kona didn’t see the world like she did. He was beautiful and strong and clever, but he was all action, all grit and movement. She wasn’t. She liked the deeper meaning and believed that not everything in life was about the flux of motion. For some reason she didn’t understand, she wanted Kona to get that about her. She wanted him to open his dark eyes just a bit further and see her, really see her.

“Because it’s life.” Keira’s voice was low, but steady and she turned away from the monitor, twisted her body and her eyes to stare right at him. “Because it’s history. Stories, words, how they fit together, how they flit through time, how they connect people separated by generations, it amazes me.” She was gesturing with her hands, moving her fingers and Kona followed the movement, watched every expression that she made as though he’d never seen anything like her before. “There’s one big story working through this world, and we’re all a part of it. I love that. It makes me feel like I’m part of something greater than myself. Maybe one day I can write my chapter in the big story.”

She expected Kona to laugh at her, maybe tell her what a dork she was. But he didn’t do that. He only stared at her, let his eyes soak her up.

After a moment, Kona blinked, nodded once as though processing her words and organizing them into files of Crazy Things Keira Says in his mind. “I get that. You want to be part of something. I totally get that.” He sat up, came close to grabbing her hand, but then just rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s why I play. It’s the team, the work we have to do to get our win.”

“It’s your grail quest.” He frowned, confused. “You and your teammates are like the Knights of the Round Table. All of you doing your part to grab the grail, the football, and to win. See? Everything goes back to the Legends.”

He smiled and sat up with his back straight. “I like that.” Kona’s mouth took on a stupid smirk and he puffed his chest out. “I’m a Knight.”

“Yeah,” Keira said, turning back to the computer. “Lancelot.”

“Why am I Lancelot?”

She laughed, trying to keep the sound low before she leaned toward him, narrowing her eyes. “Because he couldn’t keep it in his pants either.”

Kona’s laugh was loud, sudden and earned him another glare from Miller and quick shush from the librarian walking around the lab.

When Miller rumbled his paper again, Keira stopped laughing, but kept the smile on her face before scrolling through another list of articles. “Okay, so we have to connect one Legend or at least a theme in it to a contemporary work.” Kona opened his mouth and she shook her head. “Not Die Hard.”

Keira came across an article from 1985. The piece was useless, but one particular word caught her eye. Betrayal. “We could explore Lancelot’s infidelity and how he and Guinevere’s betrayal impacted Arthur with the elements of betrayal and forgiveness in Les Mis.”

“What’s that?”

She stared at him, but was speechless. “You’ve never heard of Les Miserables?”

“Is that on the syllabus?”

She laughed. “No. It’s about the aftermath of the French Revolution…it’s about several different…it’ll work.”

Kona squinted and he wore a frown that Keira suspected was forced and mocking. “You expect me to put all my faith in you on this?”

“You have another suggestion…aside from Die Hard?”

“No, but I need more information.”

“You can always read the book. Victor Hugo. I’ll even help you check it out.” When Kona wrinkled his nose, Keira held back the urge to search the racks. “Fine. Um…” she clicked onto the keyboard, pulling up the library’s media database. “We can rent the musical.”

“Musical?”

“God, Kona, you really should invest a little more attention into stuff off the field. Les Mis is one of the longest running Broadway musicals of all time and has the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.” He seemed dubious, so she hurried to explain. “We can rent it and watch it in my room and I’ll explain the stuff you don’t get.”

“Okay.” When he said that too quickly, Keira was surprised to see a crack in his constantly cool composure. He’d seem too eager, too willing to relinquish his argument. “I mean, whatever. You’re the Word Lady.”

“Good. When are you free?”

“Tuesday night. That good?”

“Yeah. That’s cool.”

“Sweet. It’s a date.”

Keira frowned. Whatever this was between them, it wouldn’t add up to much, she knew that. The mild flirtation with that tart Tonya made that clear. Kona Hale was beautiful, an athlete, part of the crowd that Keira would never be welcome in. No matter what she thought she felt that night in her dorm, the two of them together would never be a good idea. With one glance at Kona that invented idea of something between them deflated and Keira was brought back to reality. Kona wanted physical connections, not attachments. An attachment was all Keira wanted, just once in her life. An attachment that stuck. Love that didn’t leave. So she took a breath and watched Kona’s smile twitch until it disappeared when she shook her head.

“It’s not a date. It’s research.”

***

“Is your mom coming to campus or something?” Leann’s voice was a little worried, anxious as though she was concerned Keira’s mother could be showing up. Leann was her mother’s only niece, the only person left of the brother she lost years before. But Keira’s mother always had a somewhat Scrooge/Fred relationship with Leann. They’d never gotten along.

Keira lowered her guitar, pulling her fingers from the frets in order to give her cousin her full attention. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“You cleaned my junk.” Leann glanced around the room. It had taken Keira an hour to put away Leann’s things, to organize her cousin’s mess so that their room didn’t look like a tornado had touched down in it. It always bothered Leann when Keira did this, as though the tidiness was some sort of insult to the weird, unkempt way Leann filed her belongings. “Your stuff is always sorted because you’re an OCD clean freak, but you cleaning my shit? Something is up.”

“Nothing is up, calm down.” Keira picked up her guitar and strummed a few notes, not eager to hear the big deal she knew Leann would make about tonight. She didn’t look at her cousin’s frown or the way she tapped her foot against the carpet, the soft pat of her dance shoes not making a sound. There would be suspicion, Keira knew, and quite a bit of warning because that’s what Leann did when she thought Keira was being irresponsible. She had never understood why her cousin, who was only six months older than her, always felt it necessary to treat Keira like a kid. Maybe it was because Leann got to experience life a bit more. Maybe it was because Leann’s mother wasn’t as controlling, as overbearing as her own.

Whatever the reason, Keira’s cousin was wary on her behalf. Always. When she didn’t immediately explain her reasons for cleaning up Leann’s mess, the girl sat next to her on the bed. “Well?”

Keira looked down at the fret board, plucking out a soft, sweet melody she hoped would calm her cousin. “Um, Kona Hale is coming by to watch Les Mis.”

She didn’t notice Leann’s reaction, too focused on the notes under her fingers and so she was a little shocked that Leann grabbed the neck of the guitar, stopping Keira’s fingers. “What?” she asked her cousin.

Keira wanted to laugh at Leann’s wide eyes. “Did you say Kona Hale?” At Keira’s nod, Leann dropped her hand from the guitar and leaned back. “I don’t think I can wrap my brain around the fact that you are going to have a real live boy in this room, not to mention that boy is CPU’s resident whore.”

“Leann, we’re working on a project together. There will be no whorish activity going on.”

The older girl seemed doubtful, suspicious, and then annoyed when Keira rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her guitar. “Keira, you don’t know what kind of person he is. Besides, I thought your mom has been after you about Mark Burke.”

“She keeps trying to get me to go to the hospital and accidently run into him when he’s there doing his internship. ‘To have lunch with Steven, oh, look, it’s Mark.’ But I haven’t gone yet.”

“Is he ugly?”

“No idea, Leann.”

“Well, he might be better than Kona Hale, at least.” When Keira ignored her, Leann threw a plain, blue pillow at her.

“You really think that of every guy on campus, I’d pick him?”

“He is pretty.”

“Oh, he’s gorgeous, but I’m not stupid.” She adjusted her body, turning toward her cousin with her arms resting on her Gibson. “And I’m not blind. I know how Kona operates. I also know that he’s not interested in me. Not like that.”

Keira didn’t like the look Leann gave her. It was pity and sympathy and all the things that she never wanted to see on anyone’s face when they looked at her. Especially not Leann. Her cousin knew this. She knew that above all, Keira wanted to be free from the control that had weighed her down her whole life. She knew that Keira wanted to make mistakes because she’d never been allowed to before.

So Leanna did what she always did when there was tension between them. She pulled on the end of Keira’s long hair and gave it a tug, gentle, but just enough to tell Keira she was sorry for doubting her.

“Bitch,” Keira said, her head down and gaze still focused on her guitar.

“Brat,” Leann returned and she stretched her legs across the bed and nudged Keira with her foot. “Play me that sad song.”

Keira knew what she meant. Leann had been requesting that same song for months now, ever since she and her boyfriend Michael started sleeping together. Leann was happy it happened, she’d told Keira that much, but she suspected that her cousin missed that sex was one experience she’d never get to have again for the first time.

There were smooth grooves on the fret board; large dips that Keira’s father had made over the years. They were bigger than Keira’s fingertips, wider, but whenever she played her father’s guitar, she felt close to him. It was like reaching through the ether and touching him, paying tribute to the hope, the heartache he’d laid down on that instrument. Keira’s own emotion, the sliver of hope that lived in her heart, came through with every note, with each line of lyric that left her mouth.

He’d taught her to play at eight and by nine, she was as good as he’d ever be. He told her she had a natural ability, that he wanted her to never forget what it felt like with the music in her mind, swelling her heart the very first time she played.

She never had.

Keira’s voice was low, an alto with a hint of a rasp, and it followed the notes, slid along B flats and Cs like she was trying to catch up to them, to make them settle.

She didn’t watch her fingers when she played. That was a habit of a newbie guitarist Keira had long since abandoned. Eyes closed, the vibration of the guitar against her chest, and then Keira was taken over by the words, by the refrain in her mind, flickering from her throat.

Her lyrics were a spell, magic woven from her father’s blood that she would never be able to define. She didn’t know why the sounds in her head never matched the notes she played or where those haunting, melodious words came from, why they fit together so perfectly.

Little girl I used to be

Shadows covered broken dreams

Forgot the promise I made to me

And then, Keira reached the bridge, climbed through the music like it was a mountain. She didn’t have to watch Leann’s expression to know that there were tears in her eyes.

No first kiss

Small last breath

Little girl gone, put out to death

The song continued, weaving through that small dorm room and Keira felt the bed move, the tremble of Leann’s body as she tried hold back her shuddering breaths. When the vibration from the last note ended, Keira finally looked at her cousin, shaking her head at the sloppy way Leann wiped her face against her thin sweatshirt.

“Damn. You’re too good for CPU.”

“You’re biased.”

“Of course I am, but I mean it.”

Keira didn’t let Leann’s look stagger her. It was a compliment she’d heard from her cousin for months, years before when they were eleven and Keira had written her first haunting melody, her very first lyric filled with melancholy.

Leann looked at the door when the knock sounded and offered Keira a glare, her emotions transformed in moments. “Be good,” she told her before she jumped off the bed and grabbed hold of her bag. “I have rehearsal until ten. Ten, Keira.”

“Are you still here?” She waved her cousin off and leaned her guitar against the footboard of her bed.

Kona’s smile appeared when Leann opened the door. He dwarfed Leann, was at least a foot taller than her, but that didn’t seem to bother her cousin in the least. The girls shared that ‘you can’t intimidate me’ gene.

***

Kona

Kona heard the music before he knocked. The voice had him resting against the doorframe, listening. He knew it was Keira singing, her natural tone evident in each note. Just the sound had him punch drunk.

The door opened and Kona’s gaze shot down to the petite girl in front of him. She looked a lot like Keira; they both had the same fierce scowl, the same fine, pale skin, but this girl was bolder, her eyes sharper as she glared at him.

“Kona Hale.” Leann said his name like a curse, each syllable a dirty clip that she didn’t seem to want on her tongue.

“What’s up?”

“You tell me.” Her eyes lowered, her gaze sliding down past his hips before she jerked her attention back to his face. He caught her meaning, didn’t find her stupid joke funny.

“Leann, leave him alone,” Keira said, moving her cousin aside so Kona could walk into the room.

Keira’s cousin whispered something to her, something Kona thought might be a warning, but Keira pushed Leann toward the door before he could make out the threat.

“Well, kids, have fun.” Leanna stepped up to Kona, eyes fierce again, mouth quirked in a humorless smirk. “Not too much fun you hear me, Hale?” She looked behind Kona, at Keira putting her guitar up. “My cousin is a good girl. I expect her to still be a good girl when you leave here.”

“Jesus,” he said, barely able to finish the word before Leann slipped out of the door.

“Sorry.” Keira’s face had gone blotchy and pink again and Kona smiled at her expression. “She’s a little overprotective, but she’s harmless,” she said, waving her hand to direct Kona toward the foot of the bed. He followed her, rested against the make-shift sofa of thick cushions and pillows as Keira opened the cover and slipped the DVD into the player.

“It’s cool.” It wasn’t the first threat he’d ever received from overprotective friends. God knew, it wouldn’t be the last.

His eyes moved around the room, watched Keira as she knelt in front of the TV, skipped through the intro. She wore low hanging jeans and when she bent to lift the remote higher, Kona had to shift his gaze from the pale skin that peeked between her waistband and the tight t-shirt she wore. He was torturing himself. He knew it and he wondered if Keira had any idea what just being in the same room with her did to him. He doubted it. The girl had no idea the power she had. She had no clue how badly he wanted her, how being near her had him forgetting every steadfast rule he’d given himself about women.

Blinking away the image of that skin, Kona shifted over, made room for Keira when she sat next to him. The area was comfortable and Kona figured that the girls seemed to have set it up when the common room downstairs didn’t invite shared TV watching. Their set was decent, not really that big, but the color was great. At that moment, Kona couldn’t really concentrate on the damn TV or the music spilling out from the speakers.

Keira smelled different, another flowery scent he couldn’t place and he tried hard to keep his inhales short and brief, to focus on what was happening on the screen. But damn it was hard. It was also giving him a headache.

“The quality in this one isn’t the best.” Keira leaned against the cushion and kept rambling. Kona didn’t care, he liked how excited she seemed to be as the music started growing louder. “The librarian told me they had to convert it from a VHS because the company doesn’t sell the ’85 London original cast version, which sucks because aside from seeing it live…” she trailed off, stopping when she looked up at Kona. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m good.” He tried for casualness, not wanting Keira to know how she was affecting him, how just the excitement in her voice had him fighting back the smile that threatened to split across his face. He rested back, slid down on his elbow and moved his long legs in front of him. They nearly touched the TV.

As the musical began, Keira sat up, lifted the remote to increase the volume. Eyes wide, she started to explain the premise, her smile growing and Kona didn’t stop his grin this time. “So Valjean is prisoner 24601. He’s been in prison for nineteen years and is being paroled by Javert, who is a total bastard. But he’s going to have to display a ticket of leave, which means he’ll be shunned because he’s an ex-con.”

“How’s he supposed to eat or work if no one will help him?”

“The Bishop of Digne offers him food and shelter.”

And then, despite the completely lame idea that Kona is sitting in a girl’s dorm room, not touching her, having her seemingly more interested in a bunch of stuffy singing actors on a stage, Kona lets the music pull his attention and then, just as Keira said, the story, and the girl, completely infected him.

CHAPTER SIX

KEIRA

“THAT WAS the saddest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life.”

Kona’s face had lost all expression and if Keira didn’t know better, she’d swear the huge linebacker had tears in his eyes. She tried not to laugh, but then Kona rubbed his neck and moved his face against his shoulder. She felt almost sorry for him.

“Hey, it’s okay, you know. It’s just a story.”

When he nodded, still not looking at her, she touched his shoulder and Kona covered his face between his large fingers. “I hope to God I never have to hear that ‘Dreamed a Dream’ song again.” That time, Keira did laugh and Kona joined her. “Seriously, that shit is depressing.”

Keira noticed how relaxed he seemed, how being in her space had taken away the bite from his voice, how his wide shoulders weren’t set as rigid as he normally kept them. It made her hope for things she had no business giving any thought to. “Well, it was set after the French Revolution. Not exactly a love fest.”

“I guess not.” Kona’s face had gone slack, stern and Keira noticed his forehead was lined with tension. When he rubbed his fingers into his temples, she was reminded of her father’s migraines and how they crippled him.

“Headache?”

“Yeah. My eyes aren’t great and squinting to see the TV didn’t help.” Kona looked at her, shrugging his shoulder, dismissing his pain. “You got an aspirin?”

“No, sorry. I’m not big on pills.”

“Aspirin isn’t a pill. Not that kind anyway.”

Keira had heard it before. Her mother practically lived off pills, but she didn’t like depending on something unnatural to make her feel better. It was something her father always preached against, though considering his hobbies that made him a huge hypocrite, but just then, an idea came to her. Despite her fear that she would be sending Kona the wrong message, she couldn’t help herself. He pulled his eyes nearly closed and took to rubbing his temples again.

“Would you like me to help you?” Keira didn’t trust the flirty smirk on his face. She’d been around Kona enough by then to understand when he was having lewd, typical boy thoughts, but she dismissed the expression with a quick eye roll. “Not like that, jackass. Come here,” she said, motioning for Kona to lay his head in her lap. He hesitated, but only for a moment and then quickly obeyed her.

“Damn, Keira, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask.”

“Be quiet and close your eyes.”

Keira looked down at Kona, trying not to focus on the precise features of his face. His frown was steady, severe, the pain clearly visible. It was eerily similar to the hard scowl her father used to make. She couldn’t stomach that expression either and so she rubbed Kona’s temples with her soft, firm fingertips. How often had she watched her mother do the same thing for her father? Hundreds of times perhaps, when the woman still loved him, when she still cared about the constant pain that filled her father’s body.

“That’s good.” Kona’s voice was low, light and after only a few quick strokes, the tension began to fade from his forehead. His skin was smooth and Keira liked how the dark, barely distinguishable freckles peppered across his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. Another rub, this one deeper, and Keira looked away from his face, tried not to count all those delicious brown spots.

“What did you think of Les Mis?” she asked. He responded with a grunt that Keira thought was noncommittal at best, but she then clarified. “Aside from it being depressing.”

“It was okay. Sad as hell, but a good story. Messed up, for sure.” Kona’s large shoulders felt heavy against Keira’s lap but she didn’t mind the weight. He was solid and his body gave off a delicious heat that Keira tried not to enjoy. She was always cold- natured, perpetually had a chill, but Kona poured warmth into her skin, comforted her more than she’d like to admit.

“Messed up?”

“Yeah. I mean, come on, Valjean can’t be bothered to handle his own shit so he lets his guy do it and that poor Fantine lady gets fired?” Kona looked up at her, head shaking as though he was disgusted. “It’s all his fault. All the shit she went through, it was his fault.”

“That’s why he took care of Cosette. He knew he’d messed up. That’s what I meant by betrayal. Valjean’s betrayal was like Lancelot’s.” When Keira’s fingers stopped moving against Kona’s temples, he tapped her hand to get her to continue. “He did this terrible thing and wanted to make up for it. It’s a story all about betrayal; a lover’s betrayal, society’s, how even the greatest, consuming loves can be harmful.”

Kona was silent, listening to Keira’s theory and she wondered if he was trying to work out the comparisons. She wondered if he was thinking of anything at all other than how close they were now, how intimately she was touching him. She let her mind drift, let herself enjoy the feel of his heavy weight and the easy way she was touching him. She wasn’t nervous. Not just then. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t, but sitting there with Kona Hale stretched out on her lap, trusting her to take away his pain, trusting her to lead him to a resolution for their project, gave Keira an unaccustomed sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in a while. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She knew who Kona was. She knew she didn’t really fit into his world. Keira wasn’t sure she ever would.

“Your theory reminds me of Beloved,” he said, surprising Keira.

“You’ve read Beloved?”

Dark eyes open, Kona frowned at her. “You surprised?”

“Yeah, sorry, but I am. You know Morrison, but not Campbell?”

Kona shrugged and Keira liked him surprising her. She liked seeing there was more to him than the image he wanted everyone to see. “We had to read it senior year. Our English teacher was excited about the movie coming out.” When Kona opened his mouth, as though he’d say something to erase any approval she felt in that moment, Keira deepened her touch, shutting up anything he might have said.

“I can see the similarities. There’s definitely betrayal in Beloved and the whole consuming love thing.”

“You think it’s bad to let love consume you?”

It was a loaded question and Keira knew she’d have to be careful with her answer. Kona knew more about her than she wanted. He’d pried, he’d wondered and for some reason Keira could not name, she’d allowed him in just a bit. She knew his prying was likely motivated by whatever interest he had in her. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him or herself when he was around her.

“You remember Paul D telling Sethe her love was too thick? He couldn’t handle how much she loved him. Fantine’s love was thick. Maybe too thick. Maybe that’s why she had to die.”

“She was doing whatever she had to for her kid, Keira. No good parent would do any less.”

“I guess.”

Somewhere in their brief discussion, Keira noticed her fingers had moved from his temples to his thick hair. It happened absently, without her thinking about it, without his complaints. It took several moments before Keira realized they were staring at each other. There wasn’t anything significant in that moment, no weighted energy passing between them. There was only comfort and casualness and the curious thoughts they kept to themselves.

“Maybe Arthur’s love was too thick,” Kona said. “Or maybe Guinevere’s was. She was into them both—Arthur and Lancelot. Maybe she loved them both too much.”

“No, I don’t believe Guinevere loved either of them. With Arthur, it was power. With Lancelot it was lust. Both are thin love.”

“And thin love is bad?”

“That’s what Sethe tells Paul D, remember?”

Kona nodded, eyes shifted away from her face as he seemed held up by his own thoughts. “’Thin love ain’t love at all.’”

“Exactly.”

Kona’s gaze moved back to Keira, but he didn’t speak. The look he gave her expanded in the quiet of her room, stirred by his eyes growing darker, by the slow, constant rake of her fingers through his hair. He lifted his hand, stopping her fingers and held onto her wrist, eyes unblinking. Then something happened in that brief pause. The look they shared sharpened and the pull between them rose.

Kona sat up, slow, cautious and Keira watched him, watched unable to react, to respond, until Kona leaned toward her, until she could smell the drugging scent of his skin and feel the soft outline of his mouth. It was the pause of everything, a kindling of heat that Keira did not know how to contain—Kona’s soft lips against hers, his airy breath moving behind the hint of tongue—at once Keira felt drugged, controlled and manic.

Keira’s mouth worked against her will, a reaction, a gut feel of movement that she did not control and Kona seemed to love it, pulled her closer, guided her hands around his waist, up to that massive chest and Keira did not stop him.

She loved the sound of his throat vibrating, those low, delicious growls he made when her tongue touched his, when her mouth moved faster, harder. Before she realized what was happening, Kona leaned over her, had her caged against the pillows. Behind her closed eyes, Keira allowed only the sensations of touch and taste to filter into her mind and she knew, unconsciously, absolutely, that she wanted Kona Hale. She wanted his hands on her back, lowering; his mouth, tongue, down her neck nibbling. All that sensation, the fiery spark of their bodies connecting consumed her, made her feel drunk, wanted, beautiful. Cherished.

The sensation was overwhelming, consuming and Keira found she could not breathe, could not keep hold of her senses—the protective instinct to run from the sudden terror she felt.

She scrambled to her feet, stepping several paces away from Kona. “What are you doing?”

“Keira, if you don’t know—I mean, I get it, I do. You’re not used to attention, from guys. I get that.”

That’s what he thinks? That’s why he wants me?

She saw the hint of it in his eyes, that hungry scrutiny that told her it was the challenge to take her that had him wanting a taste of her. She felt like she had been doused with a bucket of ice water. She understood now. She got Kona’s interest in her and despite how disgusted it made her feel, Keira laughed.

“You think I’m a virgin, Kona?” When he only managed to look away from her, jaw clenching, Keira’s laughter grew, bubbled so that the sound was obnoxious and loud. “I might get nervous around guys, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been with anyone. And why are you changing the subject? You kissed me.” Keira chose to ignore the part where she had responded eagerly to his kiss. With Keira’s admission and her accusation, the large vein on Kona's neck that stuck out when his temper flared was pumping against his dark skin like a drumbeat. “I told you this wasn’t a date.”

“I know that.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

With one large hand rubbing the back of his neck, Kona made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Shit, Keira, there was a moment. Don’t pretend like you didn’t feel it. You did kiss me back. And don’t act like you didn’t feel it that night you were mugged.” He walked toward her and Keira found the room had grown smaller, that somehow she’d forgotten how large Kona was, how much space he took up. “There’s something going on between us and it’s got nothing to do with Legends or old musicals.” Kona stood in front of her and Keira wasn’t sure how she’d ended up with her back against the door and him looming over her, staring down at her like he was hungry, like he was hungry only for her.

She felt her pulse skidding against her neck, could feel that warmth that always radiated from Kona’s huge frame as he leaned toward her, as those enormous hands lay flat against the door, right next to her cheek.

“I never said there wasn’t something here.” She pushed back when he moved, eating up the small space between them. She fought the pull that threaded them together. It took strength. It took restraint she didn’t know she had, but Keira pushed against his chest to keep him off of her. “I also never said I was interested in finding out what that something is.”

“Bullshit.” Kona’s voice was thick and Keira didn’t like how smug he sounded. That sweet, contemplative boy from a few minutes ago was gone. Now only the entitled jackass remained and the attitude quickly reminded Keira why she’d been hesitant to be alone with him.

“No, it’s not bullshit.” Keira could feel her anger sharpen like a prick of needles against her stomach. It wasn’t the first time Kona had irritated her temper; just being near him seemed to invoke some sort of raw nerve that made her anger sharp and pulled swiftly to the surface. She hated his smirk and the stupid way his expression told her he thought she was being ridiculous. Condescending, her mother would call that look and that niggling voice echoed in her head, laid fuel on the simmering spark of her temper. “Why do you do that shit?” She pushed against his chest and he seemed caught, shocked by how high her voice had risen. “You’ve got this attitude like you know what I’m thinking. Like you think I’m seconds away from ripping your clothes off.” Keira pushed him again, but Kona didn’t budge and, to annoy her more, he smiled at her. She still managed to spit out, “I’m not. Trust me, I am so not.”

“You know, when you get pissed, you turn into a wildcat.”

“I have a temper, asshole.” Another push and Kona grabbed her wrist and held her hand against his chest.

“Why am I an asshole?”

Keira jerked back, trying to take a breath so that when she spoke again, her voice would be calm, even. “I’m not interested in you like that, Kona. The girls you’re with, I’m nothing like them. I don’t do hookups.”

The smile left his face and Keira could see his disappointment. She knew this was him; the casual attitude toward sex, the quick release, the heat, the passion, that was all he wanted. He wanted to touch, to taste. Kona didn’t want to feel and for Keira, that was all that mattered.

She had felt very little for so long. Her father’s death, her mother’s cruelty, it had left her vacant and open. She wanted that void to be filled, not just tapped off and quickly emptied again. She wanted the finish line, not the chase.

In that exasperated sigh and the quick eye roll, Keira knew Kona would never give her what she needed. “Well what the hell do you do?” Back again was the straight set of his shoulders, the defensive stance of a boy ready to fight.

“I don’t do thin love, Kona. I’ve seen what it does. I’ve seen how pathetic it is my whole life.” Keira caught a quick memory of her mother and stepfather from three weeks ago, sitting at the dining room table quietly taking their meal. They never looked at each other and in six years, Keira couldn’t remember them touching once. She was baring more of herself to Kona now, slipping him secrets she knew he’d only forget, but she wanted him to understand, to see what she needed. “I don’t want easy. I want the impossible. I want love so thick, I drown in it; it’s the only thing worth having and, I’m sorry Kona, you’re a nice guy when you’re not acting like an entitled jackass, but I really don’t think you’re capable of being anything more than that for me.”

Kona’s reaction was swift; a jerk back from her as though she’d leveled a quick fist into his stomach and he grabbed the doorknob. Keira saw the tension instantly return to his face. She guessed the headache had reemerged, that her words had erased any comfort her fingers had given him. But Kona didn’t complain, didn’t do more than open the door, funneling his anger away from her as he stared into the hallway.

“You don’t know me, Keira and you don’t have a fucking clue what I’m capable of.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

KEIRA

DR. STEVEN MICHAELS, heart surgeon, was a nice enough man. He was intelligent. He was handsome enough and he was very safe. Keira liked to think of her stepfather as, vanilla, as beige. He was straight lines and defined boxes and expectations that one should never deviate from. Ever. “Planning,” he’d told Keira for the past six years, “is the hallmark of sanity.”

Steven was also very boring.

When Keira watched her mother with her husband—at the dinner table, out at the movies, at parties with their friends—she often wondered if her mother had somehow acquired a lobotomy between her father’s death and her marriage to Steven. The two men could not be more different. Steven was a starched, cotton sheet that scratched against the skin. Keira’s father had been a vibrant old quilt, with soft threads woven and fitted together by time, by color, by heartache.

Steven—he insisted that Keira call him by his first name—also had little time for his stepdaughter. Keira was fourteen when her mother married the good doctor and he seemed about as interested in a relationship with her as he would be in getting a full-body tattoo. He treated her as decoration. She was a lamp. She was the silent little lamp that should be dusted, should fit in with the rest of the furnishings; perhaps interesting if there was a lull in the conversation, but not curious enough to invite a lengthy dialog.

And so Lamp Keira sat in the waiting room of Dr. Beige’s office because her mother had insisted, for at least the tenth time, she have lunch with her stepfather. Her motives edged toward the obvious and Keira suspected that the mysterious Mark Burke would make an appearance.

She really didn’t want Mark Burke to make an appearance.

“Keira,” she heard the middle-aged nurse say, peeking her head out of the office door.

She stood, the plastic, grey chair in the waiting room creaking as she moved. “Is Dr. Michaels ready?”

“He said he’d be about ten minutes. Here,” she passed Keira a dollar bill, folded in half. “Dr. Michaels said to grab a water out of the vending machine and he’d be ready for you by the time you get back.” The nurse’s mouth twitched, her eyes shot to Keira’s left and the shadow that approached behind her. A little nod of her head and Keira knew who to expect. “Mark will keep you company until your stepfather is ready.”

And just like that, Mark Burke stepped into Keira’s life. It only took a moment for the anger to surface, but unlike the freedom that Keira enjoyed at school—where she could lash out, argue against whatever situation made her angry—in Dr. Beige’s environment, Lamp Keira had to clamp down her temper.

Keira didn’t want to face him. She didn’t want to do anything but walk down the hallway and pretend that Mark Burke didn’t exist. She knew what this was: step one in her mother’s Grand Plan. She and Mark were supposed to meet. They were supposed to date and then decide, sometime later, that they should connect their Five Year Plans.

On her own, Keira would never be enough. Her mother wanted a Stepford Daughter. She wanted her to marry well, study hard and conform into someone Keira never had any hope of being. Pretty smile, pretty life, broken spirit.

Keira managed a smile, something she’d perfected as a kid, and then a quick nod to Mark before she led him out of the office and into the hallway.

“Nice to meet you.” Mark’s voice was pleasant, even, practiced, just like it should be and Keira tried not to laugh at the frozen smile on his face. He had a nice face, handsome with high cheekbones, a long, straight nose and full lips, smooth and very pink and his teeth were perfectly straight. Too straight. Too perfect. The idea came to Keira then, as Mark held onto that practiced smile, that he looked like a clone of every other boy she’d met in her mother’s social circle.

Hair: perfect.

Skin: flawless.

Teeth: expensive.

And just as something rude, something very un-Stepford began to make its way out of her mouth, Keira realized her expression likely mimicked Mark’s; that her hair and skin and everything else of hers was just as polished as his.

She felt like a hypocrite.

The vending machine was to her right and Keira stopped, staring up into Mark’s hazel eyes, hoping she would see something flicker, something alive and real and not practiced, moving there.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said when that too polished smile began to fracture, “but this was not my idea.”

And then the flawless Mark Burke laughed. Keira liked the sound. It was melodic, like the vibration of a wineglass, and kept tension from binding up her shoulders.

“I know that. Trust me, I know how this all works.” Mark ruffled his thick hair, scratching his nails through his bangs and Keira noticed that it was mildly floppy. It fell just an inch or two against his forehead, was dark, wavy. “Our parents,” he said, nodding toward the vending machine, “have ideas about status.” Mark waved off Keira’s offer of the dollar her stepfather had left for her and pushed his own into the machine, handing her a sweating bottle of water. “I think it’s in the water, personally.”

“What is?” Keira leaned next to him against the wall, relaxing when Mark rested his head back.

“This idea that we should be something they couldn’t, which is stupid because what they really want is for us to be just like them.”

“You think so?”

He looked down the hallway and then took a sip from his bottle. “They’ve screwed up their own lives, Keira and think we’re their second chance. They want us to get it right, but they haven’t got a clue what that right way is. So we are expected to do what they did, what their parents did.”

She picked on the label of her water, scratching the sticker until it clumped under her thumbnail. “My mom wants me married off before I graduate.”

“You’re eighteen?”

“Yeah.” Keira stood away from the wall and drummed her finger on the top of the water bottle, trying to gage Mark’s reaction, to see if he was just saying words he thought she might like to hear. When he only smiled at her, a relaxed, easy expression, Keira continued. “I’m barely out of high school and she’s already talking about me settling down.”

“And I thought my mom was bad.”

“No one’s mom is as bad as mine.”

With another of Mark’s warm laughs, Keira decided that she liked not being alone in the Stepford Five Year Plan. It seemed to Keira that Mark, like her, had no intention of fitting the in-need-of-breaking mold Keira had been working up the nerve to avoid her whole life.

“My advice—”

“You have advice?” she said, walking next to Mark back toward Steven’s office.

“Probably more than you want. I am very old compared to you.”

“How old are we talking?”

“A good four years, so I’m quite wise and ancient.”

Keira’s smile grew and she let herself enjoy the sensation of Mark’s hand on the small of her back when he opened the door for her. “So what’s this wise and ancient advice?”

Mark stopped her, a gentle pull on her fingers before they reached the lobby that separated her stepfather’s office and the hospital entrance. “One day, when you’ve had as much as you can take, tell your mother to kiss your ass.”

“Oh?” Keira said, between laughs. “Is that all?”

“That’s all there is to it.”

The sounds of the active hospital just a few feet down the hall collected around them as Mark slid his fingers away from her hand. He had a kind face and was relaxed now that the pretense of their first meeting was out of the way. She hated that her mother had been right about him. She hated that she’d judged him by the same standards she’d been held to her whole life. Her own expectations were a bundle of stereotypes she's never challenged, but there Mark stood, looking at her as though he was surprised that she wasn’t a Stepford clone either.

“Have you done that yet?”

“Told my mom to kiss my ass?” At Keira’s nod, Mark frowned, but it was an expression of disappointment, not sadness. “In a roundabout way. She wanted me to do cardiovascular work like your stepdad. She even worked out this internship hoping I’d change my mind.” Again, his hands went to his bangs and Keira decided she liked that nervous tick; it made Mark seemed blissfully imperfect. “There are enough cardiologist and not enough ER docs. That’s where I’d like to be. Really, I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Well, I hope you get you want, Mark. I hope we both do.”

A small step and Mark moved out of the way when two nurses ran in front of him, toward the hospital entrance. He smelled like sandalwood and his shoulder brushed against her arm. They watched the nurses join the activity down the hallway, but stood still when the ER doors flew open, ushering in gurneys and paramedics and all the chaotic madness of the hospital.

“I hope we do too, Keira.” Mark’s smile was easy again and his eyes went straight to hers, holding her attention, making her think of things that had nothing to do with her mother or her plans.

She was going to tell Mark she had enjoyed meeting him. Keira even thought she’d be bold enough to ask for his number, or at least give him hers. But then her stepfather darted through the office door.

“Keira, I’ve got to take a rain check. We’ve had an emergency come up.” And then he was gone, jogging down the hallway. Keira’s gaze left Mark and that big smile and his sandalwood scent were forgotten.

An EMT-guided gurney swept into the ER on a wave of piercing sirens and Keira stepped forward, led by something she couldn’t understand as Kona barreled in right behind it.

***

Kona

“WAS he complaining of chest pains?”

“I’m not sure, he was in and out—”

“Has he ever experienced an episode prior to this one?”

“Episode? He has a bad heart.”

“I’ll need a list of his medication.”

Count to ten. Breathe. Just breathe.

“I don’t have that. My mom would know—”

“Do you have his insurance information?”

“No…I don’t—”

Kona’s temper was a thorn, piercing and sharp, but he had learned to control it. With time. With patience. Standing in front of this nurse in the green scrubs, her asking him a thousand questions he could never answer, made the urge to lash out hard to resist.

“What about his driver’s license?”

“No, he doesn’t drive—”

He had to step back, look away from her pink face and chapped lips. She kept asking questions, wanting to know what she could about his kupunakane. But Kona had never been good when shit got hard and this was the hardest shit of his life.

“What about his primary care physician?”

Two…three…four…

“I don’t know. I think—”

Five…six…

“Is there any information at all you can give us, son?”

“No, dammit, there isn’t! I don’t know shit, okay?”

Kona’s voice broke over the loud commotion of the ER. Everywhere he turned there were people. Sick people, crying people, nosy people, gum-smacking people, people getting further under his skin with every question they asked. Everything had spiraled out of control and Kona hated it. Controlling things, keeping everything settled, in his hands, was often the only thing that kept Kona sane. He teetered away from that sanity, from his calm and it showed in his loud shout and the instant pause in all that activity around him.

The nurse tossed the folder in her hand onto the front desk and kept her voice soft, but the bite in her tone held a warning. “I know you’re upset, but getting angry isn’t going to help.”

He stopped counting. He stopped breathing and Kona was seconds away from breaking his rules, the one that reminded him not to touch, to scream, to be something everyone expected he was: low, violent and primal.

“Look, I can’t help you, okay? All I know is that I went by to see my grandfather and found him on the floor.” When the nurse didn’t react, didn’t do much more than continue to frown at him, Kona closed his eyes, focused again on the lift of his chest, the air moving into his lungs. Not looking at her, he scrubbed his fingers over his face, trying to block out the woman’s glare and cocked eyebrow. “He’s got a condition. A-something…A…A…fuck, I don’t remember.”

“Atrial fibrillation?”

A new voice, a kind voice. A familiar voice. Kona turned toward that voice, trying to focus on the face, trying to make sense of why that particular voice was here in the swirl of all the details scattering his brain. Her smile was hesitant, but real, honest.

“Keira?”

He didn’t touch her. There was too much noise in this place, too many questions he didn’t have the answers to and more than anything he didn't want to be here, he didn't want this nightmare to be happening.

What is she doing here?

And then Keira shocked the hell out of him, and grounded him and kept him from spinning out of control. She stood at his side, her fingers threading between his, keeping the shake out of his hand, as she faced the scowling front desk nurse.

“Dr. Michaels is my stepdad. I’m pretty sure he went back there.” She was cool, calm and Kona could only watch her as she took control, talked to that nurse like an adult, like she had far more of a clue of what needed to be done than Kona ever would. “His mom teaches at CPU. History department. I’ll get her number and give it to you in a second.” Amazingly, the nurse smiled, barely glanced at Kona as she nodded.

Then Kona let Keira lead him back into the waiting room. She sat him down like a puppet master, making his knees bend, keeping his eyes away from the curtained area in the back where the paramedics had taken his kuku.

It took a minute for reality to settle in. An hour ago he was waiting on Kupunakane, sipping a beer and watching the door at the Maple Leaf and then he was there, freaking out, sirens, fear, anger and…Keira.

He looked at her through his fingers, elbows on his knees. “What are you doing here?” he finally said when enough breaths had taken the rattle from his chest.

“Meeting my stepdad for lunch.” She was so calm. How could she be so damn calm? Kona knew he was staring. He knew she was probably wondering why his eyes moved over her face, why he was looking at her like she was a miracle. Then finally, Keira nodded, a silent cue that she understood his reaction, that she didn’t think he was a freak. “Your grandfather?” At his chin dip, Keira leaned back against the chair and looked past the front desk. Her eyes were impossibly blue, bright and shining. “Well, my stepdad is supposed to be one of the best cardiologists in the city.”

“How did you know about that A-Fib thing?”

She smiled. “Doctors like to talk shop at home. Mainly, I think my stepdad just likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” When Kona sat up, an unconscious fidget, Keira frowned at him, like she was worried, like she knew he wanted to dart back to the front desk and ask what the hell was going on. “This place sucks. This situation sucks, but you gotta be cool. These people are good, they’re here to help. They’re just trying to get as much detail as they can so they know how to treat him.”

He could only offer her a small twist of his head, something vague, something flippant and then he looked toward that curtain, wondering what the silence meant.

Keira joined him, watching the back of that room, his quiet confidant waiting for whatever news would come. Without thinking, he leaned closer to her, liking the sweet brush of her hair on his hand and the way she didn’t move away from him when he needed someone close.

For just a moment, Kona wondered how they’d gotten there. When he left her dorm a few nights ago, he was pissed off at her. That night he didn’t know how he’d manage the rest of their project without feeling stupid around her. He’d kissed her, thought she wanted what he did, thought he saw something working on her face, something that told him he could have her. But she didn’t want him. She thought he was dirty. She thought he was worthless. Kona’s pride had been bruised and he’d brushed off any thoughts about Keira as soon as he left her dorm. At least he tried to.

But sitting in the ER waiting room next to her didn’t feel awkward. It felt good. She had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. He’d noticed it once before. The night that asshole tried robbing her. Kona had been seconds from letting the rage building overtake him, lash out until there would have been no return from the violence that begged to escape. But Keira stopped him. Keira settled him, just like minutes before. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to mean anything at all.

“Give me your mom’s number and the nurse will call her.”

Kona was on autopilot. His Nokia was in her hands and he barely blinked. He didn’t care that Keira would see his contacts. He didn’t care that she could read his messages. He just wanted her to keep him calm. And as Keira scrolled through his phone, as she walked to the front desk and gave the nurse his numbers, Kona thought autopilot was a good place to be.

***

The coffee looked like piss.

There was something floating on the surface. It could have been sugar. Maybe a bug, but Kona kept staring at it, wondering idly how anyone could make coffee look like piss.

“Even people that don’t drink coffee, have it at hospitals.” Keira leaned over his shoulder and squinted at the cup in Kona’s hand. “Except that shit,” she said, taking it out his hands. “Yeah. No. You aren’t drinking that.”

“How long you think it’s been in there?”

The silver coffee pot had a film over the base; a gooey, burnt mess that sizzled when the machine kicked on. It smelled worse than the coffee pouring from it and Keira’s nose bunched up when the red indicator light beeped.

“Since Arthur was just a twitch in Uther’s shorts.”

Kona laughed. The sound surprised him, took the edge off what seemed like days as he and Keira had been waiting to hear from Dr. Michaels. It was the first time his head wasn’t consumed with thoughts of his kuku and he looked at Keira, at that disgusted scowl bending her mouth, and he felt grateful.

“Wildcat, you are such a dork.” She shrugged, not bothered by his insult and made for the lobby before Kona grabbed her wrist. “Thanks. You know…” he nodded toward the waiting room and felt stupid, felt raw as he tried to get her to catch his meaning.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is.” He moved her out of the way of a cleaning woman loaded down with a roll of plastic trash bags heading toward the trashcan next to that stinking coffee pot. He didn’t let go of her arm until they were next to an empty row of chairs. “You calmed me down.” For what could have been the thousandth time, Kona looked behind the front desk, distracted by the traffic of nurses and orderlies that were still moving behind that damn curtain. But Keira seemed to know when he was worried, when the quiet bustle of whatever was being done to his grandfather had Kona slipping close to the edge of panic.

She touched his arm, tugging his sleeve to grab his attention. “I’m good in a panic.”

“Shit, I’m not.”

“I can tell.”

When Kona saw Dr. Michaels slip open the curtain and whisper something to a nurse, he stood up, arms squeezed tight across his chest and Keira was next to him; her shoulder bumping his arm. Just then, if he wanted to touch her, he knew she would fit perfectly underneath him. His chin on her head, her small body against his chest, set like a puzzle.

“Steven really is one of the best.” Her voice chased the thoughts of her against him from his mind. “Your grandpa is in good hands.”

Dr. Michaels offered him glance and Kona thought he might come over with an update, but the doctor only looked at Keira, gave her a nod and then disappeared behind the curtain. It wasn’t until Kona saw the small ripple of the floral curtain move closed that he returned to his seat with Keira at his side.

“He was unconscious when I found him.” Kona stretched out his long legs, brushed his feet against Keira’s before his elbows moved to his knees. “He was supposed to meet me at the Maple Leaf. Rebirth was playing and he likes the trumpets.” Kona’s words moved automatically, each recall scarier than the next, but his voice was distant and to him, weak. “He didn’t show and I got worried.” He didn’t react when Keira fit her fingers between his. He liked how natural they felt against his, how the slide of her soft skin sent a small vibration into his knuckles. “If I’d picked him up—”

“Kona, don’t do that shit. Seriously.”

“I’m just sayin.”

“Yeah and it won’t help. You’ll work yourself up with all the ‘If Only’ crap. Trust me, I know.”

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. There was something on Keira’s face; some weird expression that Kona didn’t know how to read. She was looking for something, asking a question Kona wasn’t sure he wanted to answer, but Keira wasn’t a coward, that much he’s learned about her. And then, that curious expression shifted, the uncertainty replaced by decision.

“I was supposed to be with my dad the night he died.” Her voice was a whisper, barely lifting between her wet lips. Keira watched the floor, eyes steady without a single blink and Kona understood this was her helping. That bare look leveled him, kept his gaze on the slow movement of her mouth. “He wanted to take me to Biloxi for the weekend, but Leann had tickets to Babyface.” Kona couldn’t help but laugh, it slipped out and he thought he’d missed his chance, that she would retreat. He relaxed when Keira’s smile widened to dent her cheeks. “Don’t give me that look. ‘Whip Appeal’ was the truth when I was ten.”

Kona liked Keira’s smile. He liked her relaxed, but he knew she’d been heading toward something, moving close to an admission that would fill in the pieces she always kept from everyone. The hour and situation had them both bare, exposed and Kona took a leap, wanting her with him, honest, just as raw as he was.

“How’d he die?”

Her shoulders fell as she released what was left of her indecision. She didn’t trust him, he knew that. They were barely classmates, but this was life, this moment when death lingered, when emotions are heightened by fear, by the worry that tomorrow would irretrievably change life as you know it.

“Bloody.” The word came out behind a long breath.

Kona was caught in her stare, in that steely way she challenged him, told him he was skirting too close to what she wanted to keep to herself. But he still moved his arm behind her shoulder on the chair. It was all he could do. Even when he was weak, even when he thought she could be a tether to what little grip of sanity he was clinging to, Kona wanted to shield her from the pain that her father’s death still caused.

Keira didn’t brush his arm away, she didn’t reject the small, useless comfort he offered, but she did sigh, did rub her neck as though she didn’t like remembering that day. “He took the easy way out, Kona. He was sick and couldn’t face it. I told you, I don’t like to talk about it.” He didn’t push. He didn’t want to do anything that would have her retreating again. He didn’t want her walking away, so he nodded, looked up at the ceiling and tried to ignore Dr. Michaels slipping out behind that curtain.

“So I went to see Babyface with Leann and I spent years beating myself up, telling myself that if I’d just spent the weekend with him, maybe he would still be here, like a ten-year-old has any freaking idea how to handle that shit.” Eyes back to her, Kona kept his gaze on those quickly moving lips. “The point is, what happens, happens the way it’s supposed to, when it’s supposed to and unless you got your medical degree in high school, there wouldn’t have been anything you could have done. We all get to where we are the way we’re supposed to.”

Kona didn’t know if he agreed with her. Maybe he would tomorrow. Maybe he never would, but Keira had a way, small gestures that made her seem so confident, convinced that whatever she said was fact. “So you’re saying everything happens for a reason?”

“Yeah, but I like my way better.”

Dr. Michaels moved to the front desk, starting scribbling something into a chart and Kona sat up, ready to move if the man continued to ignore him. But again, Keira deflected his anxiety, mimicked Kona with her elbows on her knees and her body inching closer to his.

He took a breath, started his countdown again when the doctor retreated behind the curtain, but Keira’s wrist in the dip of his elbow made him stop. She didn’t sit back, didn’t make that touch something brief, something only done to pacify him.

He caught the small movement of Keira twisting her silver ring around her pinky. Her fingers were long, thin and the nail beds were smooth and trim. He shifted his eyes up, trapped her stare. There were only inches separating their faces and Kona took that moment to watch the gray flecks in her irises, at the smooth arch of her eyebrows. That face took away his worry, made him forget where he was, why he was there. “So what happens, happens, huh? And…you being here right now?”

Kona was fascinated by the small gleam on her lips. He thought she was going to argue, to tell him this meant nothing, but then Keira’s mouth closed and those big eyes softened. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Around them, more people congregated into the waiting room. More sickness, more chaos, but Kona couldn’t make himself focus on anything but the sweet smell of her breath and how warm it felt against his face.

“I’m sorry I stole a kiss.” He wasn’t sorry. In fact, just then, he wanted to try again. That night in her dorm, just the hint of her on his tongue had nearly wrecked him and Kona spent the rest of that night telling himself it wasn’t as unbelievable as it was. He was getting good at lying to himself.

Keira’s grin was sweet, wasn’t mocking, and he liked how close they were, didn’t want her brushing off the flash of energy heating between them. “You told me. Before I even went there, you told me not to expect anything and I jumped you.”

“That was you jumping me?”

“Well, no.” His laugh was the break they needed, pulled them apart so that he could breathe again, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her. “You get what I’m saying.” She still had no idea what she did to him. “I never have to try with girls. You…shit, Keira, you make me work for it.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“True enough,” he said, bringing his shoulder to hers, just a small bump that brought back the flash. “The chase.”

“Freaking Lancelot.”

She leaned toward him and he thought it was another moment. He thought she was giving in, telling him with the dip of her eyes on his mouth that she didn’t think he was less; that she wanted him to meet her, take her lips again. But she’d kept him calm. She’d taken the frays of his panic and held him together.

What am I doing?

He couldn’t mess that up. She’d stood by him without him asking and he knew, because of who he was, because of the rules he’d given himself, that he couldn’t have Keira Riley. He couldn’t be enough for her.

“Mr. Hale?”

The nurse was calmer now. She at least wasn’t glaring at Kona when she called him over. Keira and the moment of them staring at each other, slipping toward something real, him running from their potential, all faded away when he met the woman in front of her desk.

“How is he?”

“Dr. Michaels will be in to talk to you in a moment. Your grandfather is stable.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke, kept her attention on the blinking lights of the phone and Kona stood there, trying to follow Keira’s advice, trying to be calm, cool.

“Can I see him?”

The nurse picked up the phone when it rang again and silenced Kona with her index finger pointed up, silently telling him to give her a minute. He didn’t realize he was growling, didn’t notice that weird, frustrated sound was coming from his throat until the nurse’s sharp eyes snapped to him.

Keira elbowed him, mumbled “Calm down, Cujo,” before Dr. Michaels finally made an appearance.

The man was tall, lanky, but Kona knew he had at least five inches on him and so the scowl that wrinkled the doctor’s green eyes didn’t have the effect the man may have wanted. He pulled his fingers through the graying blonde hair and his face pinched up when he glanced between Kona and Keira. “Your grandfather had a mild heart attack.” The doctor’s voice was impassive with the hint of boredom. Kona felt the words move right through him. He had no bedside manner. There wasn’t anything gentle, anything approaching sympathy in his expression. “We’ll need to do surgery, but from what I’ve seen so far, he has a blockage.”

It was Keira’s hand in his, squeezing, telling him she was right there with him that kept Kona from losing the small grip he had on his cool. He felt the burn of tears starting behind his eyelids, but managed to keep them on his lashes with a hard squint. The thick knot in his throat, though, wouldn’t go away.

“When will he go in?” Kona watched that silver ring Keira wore. It had intricate knots like a rope and reminded him of a fairy.

“We’re bringing him up in just a few minutes. He’s unconscious and heavily sedated.”

Kona knew that meant Kupunakane wouldn’t know he was there. Dr. Michaels was telling him to sit tight and not get in the way. “Alright.”

“Does your mother know where you are?” This, the doctor directed at Keira and Kona heard the question for what it really was. Does your mother know you’re with this boy?

Keira’s hand fell away from his and Kona kept his disappointment to himself. He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked the sensation of their fingers locked together. That was stupid. That was weak and Kona was ripped open enough for one day. Let her run, he thought.

“She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you should go home, Keira.” It was spoken more like a suggestion than demand, but the warning in the man’s voice was heavy with insistence.

Keira folded her arms, moved her chin to challenge her stepfather. “Kona’s my friend, Steven, and until his people get here, I’m not leaving.”

“My friend.” The words were there, bouncing around in Kona’s head when the doctor walked away. Maybe it was just something to say, something she knew would piss off her stepfather, but Kona thought she meant it. He wasn’t sure why that made him smile. He wasn’t sure “friend” would be the word he’d used to describe Keira - but he was awfully glad she had.

“Your stepdad is kind of a dick,” he told her, pulling his lips between his teeth to bury his smile.

Keira kept her eyelids narrowed as she watched the doctor talk to the nurses, prepare the others to bring his kuku up to surgery. A pulse twitched in Keira’s top lip, a little quirk that had Kona’s smile retreating.

“He has expectations.” She finally looked at him and that twitch worked double time. “They all do.”

Keira’s gaze moved from his face, over his shoulder and Kona followed, to see his mother quickly advancing on them from the lobby doors. She quickly wrapped Kona in her arms.

Professor Alana smelled like vanilla and her soft hair brushed against his face when she hugged him. “Keiki kane…keiki kane,” she said twice, under her breath, like saying “son” over and over in Hawaiian was a mantra of comfort, a balm meant for them both.

Luka was there, too, t-shirt and jeans rumpled, his thick black hair sticking up in different directions and his eyes red as Kona offered his twin a nod, a quick glance that Kona hoped would ease his brother.

“What happened?” his mother asked, pulling out of his arms, her face lined with worry, and a fear that Kona couldn’t ever remember seeing her wear before. Underneath her black framed glasses, Kona could see that her makeup was clouded and clumpy. By the wrinkles of her linen suit he knew she’d rushed to get here from campus.

“Heart attack.”

Their reactions were quick—his mother’s quick gasp, her hands covering her mouth as she tried to silence her shock; Luka stumbled where he stood, his arms instantly working into a tremble. And then, Kona relayed what Dr. Michaels had told him, felt stupid and pointless doing it. For a second he thought he’d ask Keira to explain it better, but she had stepped away from them, had become a shadow when Kona’s mother approached.

Thankfully Dr. Michaels came out to the front desk just then, and explained to Professor Alana the details that Kona had been too confused, too exhausted to understand. Luka shuffled behind them, listening intently. Keira was still invisible, watching his mother, squinting when her stepfather gave the woman distracted, convoluted clarifications.

“He is a dick,” Keira confirmed, sliding back to his side. “See how he’s looking at her?” Kona nodded, moved his head so he could watch how the doctor’s face was pinched, how he gestured when he spoke. “That’s him dumbing down your grandfather’s condition. He doesn’t think your mom will understand him. That’s classic pretentious Steven.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” Kona took Keira’s hand and they leaned side by side on the wall to get a clearer view. “Watch this.”

They couldn’t hear the conversation, but Kona recognized his mother’s expression. One slim eyebrow lifted and she tilted her head, staring over the oval glasses she wore. That was her “don’t fuck with me” look and it worked, like always. Dr. Michaels swallowed, then rubbed his neck when Kona’s mother took a step, when that fearsome glare became a silent threat.

“Damn,” was all Keira could manage.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Kona knew he shouldn’t smile at Keira. His focus should be on Luka, on his mother who listened as Dr. Michaels fidgeted around his explanations. But it was hard not to want to step closer to Keira.

Suddenly his mother left the doctor, expression closed off, stride confident, steady, as she moved toward her new target. She was going to take back the reins Keira had held in her absence. Kona knew the look his mother gave Keira. It was the same look she gave anyone that disappointed her. He’d seen her stare at Luka like that their whole life.

“I’m here now, Ms. Riley and this is a private matter. It’s best you go.”

But Keira wasn’t shaken by the command in his mother’s voice. She blinked twice and sighed, as though she wasn’t surprised by the attitude. Kona felt lost, looking between them. Despite how stupid it sounded in his head, he needed Keira to stay.

“You want me to stick around?” she asked him, completely disregarding how close his mother moved toward her, how fierce her glare became.

“Ms. Riley, I don’t think you understand—”

“Kona?” she interrupted, looking up at him. “You want me to stick around or not?” No one had ever dismissed his mother like that and Kona was impressed. His smile was answer enough for her. “I can stay.”

His mother challenged her with another hard look but Keira didn’t flinch. He had never seen her that way before—adamant, fearless— and Kona wondered if it had been their waiting together for the bad news he knew would come; her holding him up when he showed weakness, that had stiffened Keira’s nerve, that had her challenging both their families.

Keira Riley was a live wire, jerking and sharp and part of him wanted to see if she would burn him. Part of him wanted to know what it felt like to hold that wire in his hands.

But he knew being with her, touching her, letting her hold him up again would only bury him deeper. He didn’t want deep. He wanted simple. He wanted easy. Nothing about Keira would ever be easy.

His mother cleared her throat and Kona took that for the warning it was; her letting him know she wasn’t happy. He didn’t need the drama of the two women playing tug of war for his attention.

“Keira, it’s cool. I’m fine now, really. Thank you.” And with that, his mother smiled and she and Luka walked away, made for the elevators that lead to the surgery ward.

For her part, Keira seemed unaffected by his slight dismissal. She was good with that, bending to the change in his attitude.

“Okay. Well, I hope everything works out.” She pushed off of the wall and Kona walked her out of the lobby. The parking lot was dark and there was a small group of smokers lingering near a courtyard, the plumes of their smokes circling above them. Kona didn’t want her on her own, but his family was inside, his kupunakane’s life in the hands of an asshole. Like she had all afternoon, Keira seemed to notice the anxiety rise back to straighten his shoulders. “Go back inside, it’s fine.” When he didn’t budge, she pulled his chin down. “Go. I’ll be okay. My car is just a couple rows down and security monitors the parking lot.”

Keira let her hand linger on his cheek and when she tried to lower it, Kona caught her fingers, kept them there. That live wire felt too warm, and he wanted to burn, just a little.

“Thank you,” he told her, this time with more feeling, as his fingers curled around her hand. And before he could stop her, before he realized he should stop her, Keira lifted up on the balls of her feet and kissed him right on the mouth. He was too surprised to push her away, then too sated to tell himself he should. It was over and she was gone before he could kiss her back. He watched her walk away wondering how he’d convince himself that Keira’s lips weren’t the sweetest things he’d ever tasted.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KEIRA

IF MUSIC and liquor filled the hearts of New Orleanians, it was football that made those hearts pump faster. In southeast Louisiana, football was a religion and Keira found herself standing outside of her university’s resident monastery—a place she thought she’d never enter, determined to ask Kona about his rough draft.

The team house was a mammoth, red American Four Square with a large porch and wide, brick steps. Filtered around those steps were groups of students, mostly girls, circling a player or two like good worshippers, hoping for a scrap of humor or a quick, flirtatious smile. If it weren’t for the rows of empty beer cans lining the faded white banisters and the dead potted mums flicking dried petals in the wind, the team house might look almost welcoming.

For at least the tenth time that day, Keira cursed Kona Hale. Those curses mumbled under her breath grew louder as she climbed the steps and ignored the curious stares she got from the loitering students. When Professor Miller told her Kona hadn’t turned in his rough draft for their project—something he was supposed to do at their eight a.m. class—Keira knew she’d have to track him down. She understood that his grandfather was sick. She understood that the heart attack and surgery would put Kona off his schedule, but that had been nearly five days ago and he’d gone silent on her, missed both classes that week.

“If I don’t have both drafts by the end of day, Ms. Riley, I’m afraid I’ll have to take points off of your overall grade.” At least Miller had extended the deadline. But Keira had no idea if Kona would make it.

Keira bypassed two kissing couples as she crossed the house threshold and tried to remind herself not to touch a thing. The entire house smelled like beer and various other liquid stenches she tried not to identify. For noon, the place was crowded. An active card game went on in the dining room, strip poker from the looks of how underdressed the players were, and three girls in their underwear dug out bottles of beer in the large kitchen refrigerator. Keira focused her attention straight ahead, to the dark living room and the red sofa in the center. Two football players, one she recognized as Kona’s twin, Luka, lounged against it, watching TV with seemingly little interest. When Luka’s gaze shifted from the set to Keira, he sat up, nudging the guy next to him until he left the sofa.

“Hey. Keira, right?” Luka said, standing to greet her.

She didn’t let herself think too long on how he remembered her. They hadn’t actually met at the hospital, but she did wonder what Kona may have told Luka about her and instead of asking for details, she offered the boy a quick nod. Luka wasn’t as tall as Kona. His shoulders and arms weren’t nearly as wide, but he still dwarfed her. She saw the similarities between the two Hale boys, but Luka somehow was less severe, seemed to smile easier.

“I’m looking for Kona. Have you seen him around?”

Luka’s gaze slipped over her head, to the closed door behind her and Keira pushed back the worry that filled her chest. “I think he’s in the shower, actually. He slept in this morning and I haven’t seen him.” Keira felt awkward, nervous being in the team house, being out of her element, but Luka’s smiled widened and she felt some of the tension in her chest ease. “You’re welcome to wait here. We’ve got a team meeting in an hour and I know he won’t miss that.”

She told herself she should just leave a message. Luka would let Kona know about the deadline. There was no reason for her to hang around, but something held her back; some weird sense of curiosity that made her want to see how Kona lived, to see what he did when she wasn’t around.

She hadn’t thought much about those brief stares they shared at the hospital and she refused to acknowledge that she’d slipped him a small kiss. It was the emotion of the day, seeing him so wounded, so lost that softened her, had her staring too long in those haunting dark eyes.

Luka left a good three feet between them on the sofa and that ever-present smile on his face remained unchanged as he stared at her. For her part, Keira could only manage to stare straight ahead, her eyes unfocused on the screen in front of her.

“How’s the project going?”

“He told you about the project?” Keira didn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

“He’s my brother. He tells me everything. Besides,” Luka nudged Keira on the shoulder and she moved her gaze toward him, returning the smile he gave her, “when a beautiful girl starts screaming at my brother in the middle of the cafeteria, then I get explanations. You gave me blackmail. Thanks for that.”

“Blackmail?”

Luka’s smile, unbelievably, grew even wider. “Kona would never admit this, but he’s scared shitless of our mother. You saw how she is at the hospital.”

“You’re not scared of her?”

“Ha, I’m not on her radar.” Luka looked back at the TV and flipped the channel, but Keira caught the way his smile fell, how he didn’t seem amused by his admission in the least. “She leaves me alone.”

“How’s your grandfather?” The curiosity got the best of her, the worry that something bad may have happened hit a bit too close to home for her. But Luka’s forced smile relaxed, then stretched and Keira released her worry.

“He’s going to be fine. Kona didn’t mention it to you?” Luka teased, and Keira didn’t like the way he winked at her or what he was implying in that smirk. And then the humor left his expression as Luka stared at the lanky guy walking through the doorway. “Stupid asshole,” he mumbled, coming to his feet.

“Hey man, where’s Kona?” the guy asked, barely taking notice of Luka who stood in front of him.

“Out. And I told you, you aren’t welcome here, Ricky.”

Ricky’s face was gaunt and his cheekbones protruded against his dark skin, giving him a dangerous, shifty appearance. Keira felt her stomach twist just looking at him, but Luka showed no fear, seemed to be unconcerned at the glare he was getting when he stood in front of Ricky, or the way Ricky's jacket bulged in the back of his waistband. He had a gun, that much Keira could make out.

“Man, calm down. I just need him to—”

Luka cut off Ricky’s explanation by pushing him back into the wall. “I don’t give a shit what you need from my brother. I told you to stay away.”

“You need to get your hands off me.” Ricky’s voice was so low Keira was only able to understand what he said by reading his lips. She stood from the sofa, not certain if she wanted to break them apart or run out of the house. But the decision was made up for her when the door to her right swung open and Kona stepped into the living room, trailing behind Tonya Lucas.

Kona shifted his eyes around the room, first to Ricky and Luka, looking like they were about to flatten each other’s faces, and then to Keira’s shocked face. Her focus had left the impending fight and she felt the breath clot in her throat as Tonya pulled down her short skirt and Kona finished tugging his t-shirt over his naked chest.

***

Kona

WEEKS.

Kona had messed around with Keira for weeks and had gotten nowhere. Really, if he thought about it, he blamed Keira for Tonya Lucas being in his bed.

He didn't want the blonde. She was too skinny, too fake, too expected. The girls on the CPU campus fit a certain mold, concerned themselves with whole Trinity of Ts: Tan, Teeth, Tits and Tonya was the best at keeping that trifecta of fake going.

But Kona didn’t want Tonya’s triple Ts.

He didn’t want the bleached blonde hair slapping in his face.

He didn’t want to take hold of those firm, fake tits and feel nothing real.

He didn’t like the way her skin felt against his palms.

After weeks of second guessing, weeks of trying to ignore the fire shooting between him and Keira, one afternoon with Tonya Lucas confirmed what Kona really wanted.

Keira.

He wanted her pale, soft skin. He wanted his fingers tangled in that lush, dark hair. He wanted to see those ice blue eyes roll up, hidden behind her large, smooth lids. He really wanted those full pink lips running against his tongue. He wanted her laugh, her mouth, her body, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, knew it was selfish, he even thought he might want her heart. He’d planned to tell her that. He planned to convince her to be with him. And then, Tonya happened.

He got Tonya with little effort. He got her because that morning while he ran before class, she followed, trailed behind him like a prowling cat.

He gave the kitty her cream and now? Well, he felt like shit about it.

He didn't know why. That day at the hospital with Keira had changed things between them, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t read into the looks she gave him or how she’d held him up when he thought the world was slipping out from under him. Kona wanted a single shot, a one-time hook up, that’s what he constantly told himself the past week while he kept his distance from Keira. She would never be down for just a one or two time wrangle between his sheets. He knew that.

But touching Tonya had changed things for him. He didn’t care what he deserved. He didn’t care that he’d never be good enough for Keira. He wanted her and he’d do whatever he could to get her. Just as soon as he got Tonya out of his room.

"So, you gonna call me later, baby?"

Kona hated when they did that. He unlatched Tonya’s arms from his neck, patted her ass to lead her from his room.

At first, he didn’t see past Tonya’s blonde hair, his gaze covered by the t-shirt he slipped over his head as he followed her out into the living room. But when he caught Luka’s hard frown and how he and Ricky looked like they were about to get into it, Kona’s attention focused on the impending trouble. And then, his trouble got worse.

Keira stood next to his door, mouth open, chin in a quiver she tried to shake off with a subtle sweep of her hand. He didn’t like how her face had gone pale, like someone had just unplugged her.

Luka’s eyebrows came up and he offered Kona a small headshake. He’d been caught. Kona wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, why the frown on Keira's face had his throat closing up, but it did and he hated how that felt.

Kona had three bombs to diffuse and he dealt with the deadliest one first.

“Brah, I got nothing. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Kona didn’t relax until Ricky nodded.

“I’ll be back then.” He stopped, stretching his shoulders as his eyes shifted between Kona and Luka. “Make sure you got what I need.” Kona didn’t like the threat laced in his words or how Ricky had come into his home making demands, but there was too much to deal with, too many fires he had to extinguish.

The guy trailed out of the living room and Kona caught his twin’s glare, deciding it wasn’t the time to hear the lecture he knew Luka would give him. “Not now.”

He could feel the tension behind him, in the cool looks Tonya leveled at Keira but Kona didn’t let her start anything. Tonya’s arm felt weak, cold under his fingers when he led her out of the living room. Her skin was cold, despite the temperature in the house and Kona doubted it had anything to do with the fall air outside.

“I didn’t realize you and that Keira girl were together.” Even her voice sounded icy, like there was no warmth hidden between the syllables. When Kona’s attention kept shifting back to where Keira stood chatting with Luka, Tonya pulled on his face, made him stare at her. “So? What’s the deal?”

“Don’t fish, Tonya. It makes you look common.” And Kona realized that’s what he didn’t like about her, about girls like her. They were common. They were all the same, clones of each other trying to stick out, each one mimicking the other until their faces were indistinguishable.

Keira wasn’t like that. Keira would never be common.

And so Kona let common Tonya Lucas leave his house, pissed off that he couldn’t make his eyes stay on her, that he couldn’t be bothered to ask for her number; that he couldn’t think of anything else but getting back to Keira and apologizing for something he shouldn’t feel guilty about.

He caught Luka’s eyes first, not liking how close his twin stood to Keira, not understanding why Luka didn’t seem to make Keira feel nervous. But he couldn’t dwell on that; not when Keira stepped away from them, pretended to be interested in the team pictures lining the wall.

“Bad?” he asked his twin, but his brother only shrugged, telling Kona silently that he wouldn’t help him out of this one. “Thanks, brah. No really.” A small jab at Luka’s shoulder and his brother left Kona alone with Keira in the room.

She hadn’t moved, eyes still up at those row of pictures, decades of CPU players who had gone on to lives Kona could only dream of. He slipped in behind her, fingers aching to touch her hair, to pull what she’d seen of him and Tonya from her head.

“You missed class,” she finally said, making a slow turn that had Kona stepping away from her. He couldn’t read her expression, though he tried. Keira was so closed off sometimes; she was a shit liar, but sometimes, Kona had noticed, her temper would get so great that it bypassed rage and moved into simmering calm, hiding whatever she was thinking from her expressions. He thought this moment might be inching toward that calm.

“Yeah, I felt like shit this morning.”

She didn’t believe him and really, Kona knew it was stupid to lie to her. But he let the look she gave him pass—eyebrow lifted and a small tremor vibrating her top lip as though she was trying hard not to scowl.

“Better now?” Her gaze moved behind him to the front door where Tonya had left and Kona meant to say something, tell Keira it wasn’t any of her business what he’d done this morning or why he’d missed class, but before he could utter a sound, she shook her head, blinking twice before her expression shifted, became distant, hard. “Miller said if we don’t both have our rough drafts handed in by three this afternoon, then we’ll get points taken off.”

“Okay.” Kona hoped he could be cool, could let her know without sounding like a groveling asshole that he felt bad. He hoped his tone was sincere, that she could somehow read each inflection and would know that he wanted her, that he was sorry he’d touched Tonya. He failed miserably. “Listen, Wildcat…”

“Don’t call me that.” Simmering calm, he thought. This is simmering calm and Kona’s own frustration began to bubble. He took a step and she retreated, sidestepping until the coffee table separated them and Kona hated the distance, hated that her cool tone was affecting him. He opened his mouth, licked his lips to keep them from cracking against his hot breath, but Keira wouldn’t let him excuse anything away. Hand up to silence him, she let that distant tone fill each syllable. “Is your rough draft finished?” Kona nodded, not sure she’d let him say anything at all. “Good. Please get it to Miller in time. I’d appreciate it.”

When she turned to leave, Kona moved, catching her before she could make it to the front door. “Listen to me for a second, okay? Tonya, this morning…” He paused, fighting for words that didn’t sound like pathetic excuses. When nothing came to him, he waved his hand, “that was nothing.”

“It’s none of my business what you do away from our class, Kona.”

“I just meant—”

“In fact,” she said, smiling, and Kona didn’t like how quick the grin came, how there was no warmth in it. “I don’t give a shit about what you…do.” Eyes downcast, glancing over his dick, Keira’s lethal smile faltered. “The only thing I care about is my grade and if you don’t turn in the rough draft—”

“I’ll turn in the damn draft.” He cut her off because he was pissed. He was mad that she was playing off whatever she was feeling because she was somehow disappointed in him. And, she was lying. She had to be. Those great blue eyes became wet and Keira blinked, lashes moving like a fan and Kona knew she was fighting whatever emotion had her angry at him. It pissed him off. She did. She confused him and the tone, her dismissive attitude did nothing but frustrate Kona.

“Good, then we don’t have a problem.”

Again she turned to leave, but Kona took her elbows, backed her against the wall so she’d look at him. “Why are you pissed at me?”

“Why the hell would I pissed at you?”

That calm was fractured, rendered useless by the lick of heat working over her cheeks. He knew she wanted him. He knew seeing Tonya here this morning had hurt her. She was just too damn stubborn to admit it. “You jealous?”

“Excuse me?” He didn’t expect her laughter. He didn’t expect her to be cruel, condescending with one small laugh. It stung. “You think I’m jealous that you’re passing along STDs to the female student body? Get over yourself, Kona.” When she pushed against his chest, he caught her fingers, holding her struggling hand against his chest. And then, the heat coiled tight, rose up to swell between them. It was the same unexplainable sensation he’d felt the night of her attack; the same thing that crackled the air that day at the hospital. It was bitterness and want, peeking out from his anger, from her jealousy, and right then, Kona moved closer, leaned against her and he didn’t have to hold her fingers still on his chest.

They stayed there, challenging him, taunting him. But the venom in her voice, the anger in her expression did not shift in the slightest. “I wouldn’t be jealous of Tonya Lucas if you paid me, Kona. I know what she is. I know what you are. I knew that before we were assigned this project.” Kona could smell the hint of caramel and coffee on her breath. He watched her expression, the small curl of her mouth, the tremor that bumped a tiny pulse on her cheek as she pushed him back, still standing too close with that tempting mouth just inches from him. Lips that were sweet, words that were poison. “People like you never fucking change.”

CHAPTER NINE

KEIRA

FIVE…six…seven rings before Leann pulled Keira’s phone off of the charger and silenced it.

“You know she’s going to keep calling until you answer.”

But Keira didn’t want to hear her mother’s voice. She didn’t want to do anything but lay on her bed and make herself sick on Jolly Ranchers jellybeans. She had a meet in the morning, one she knew she wasn’t prepared for, but her temper had not waned much since she left Kona, and carb loading in the worst possible way was the only thing that helped mollify her anger. Her guitar was less than four feet from her and she couldn’t even bother to reach for it, to make those strings and her father’s finger grooves work its magic on her temper.

“Why isn’t your voice mail picking up?” Keira’s cousin moved around the room, digging through her clothes, slinging pumps and wedges across the floor. When the dorm phone started to chime, she threw it onto Keira’s bed, barely missing her temple. “It’s her. Answer the freaking phone, Keira.”

“No. She’s just going to bitch at me.”

Keira heard her cousin’s curse; low, vicious little words that should have made her blush, and she smiled, thinking of her mother’s reaction if she could somehow hear her niece. “Fine, be a little shit.” And then the smile moved off Keira’s face as Leann took the call. “Hello, Aunt Cora, how are you?” The saccharine tone was rude and Keira was sure her mother was telling Leann not to be glib. “Oh, yes, she’s right here, stuffing her face with—”

“Are you stupid?” Keira said, jerking the phone out of her cousin’s hand. “You know what a psycho she is about carbs.” Leann gave Keira the finger, then returned to her digging before the girl had a second enough to clear her throat. “Mom?”

“Keira, what in God’s name are you eating?”

She pulled the phone against her chest and growled at her cousin. “I am going to kick your scrawny little ass.” She knew her mother was still talking, likely asking questions and, sure enough, when she returned the receiver to her ear, the lecture hadn’t even slowed.

“…irresponsible. With your hips, you have to be extra cautious of what you eat and your skin, Keira…how often have we been to see the dermatologist? You know what the carbohydrates do to your…?”

“Mother. Please. Leann was joking. I’m not eating anything.” Her cousin’s glare was ridiculous—tightened eyes and a severe line pulling her mouth that made Leann look old. Keira ignored her, then cringed when she heard her mother’s long breath on the other end of the phone.

“Well, that’s good at least. You can tell Leann I don’t appreciate her little joke.”

“Oh, I’m sure she knows that.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” There was something off in her mother’s voice, as though she was waiting for Keira to fill the small beats of quiet that generally were never allowed in their conversations. “Awkward silences are rude, Keira,” she’d always told her. Her mother was waiting, expecting and with her head still muddled by Kona and Tonya Lucas, Keira couldn’t remember what her mother wanted.

“Um, so, why did you call?”

Another long exhale told Keira she’d already made a mistake. Slumping against the bed, she curled her knees to her chest and watched Leann flutter around the room like a bee. “Keira, really? Have you forgotten? Mark was so looking forward to seeing you. He called, of course? I knew he would when Steven told me he gave the boy your number.”

The only comfort came to her behind her closed eyelids. Her mother was meddlesome, nosy, and Steven seemed to agree that Mark was a perfect match for her. He’d apologized when he called three nights before, said he didn’t want her to think he was falling in line with her mother’s plan, and after the awkwardness passed, Keira had shuffled around a “yes” until his laughter relaxed her, until she had half-heartedly agreed to a date. She’d already put it out of her head, too consumed by distracting her thoughts from Kona.

“He called. We’re supposed to be meeting up tonight.”

“What do you mean ‘meeting up’? Isn’t he taking you out on a proper date?”

“Mother, it’s not like that. It’s casual.”

There was a brief pause and Keira could almost hear her mother’s thoughts, the interworkings of agendas, calculating ways in which Keira could make Mark helpless to her “female charms.” Her mother’s term, definitely not hers.

“Hmm, casual isn’t terrible, I suppose.” It took her mother three full seconds to switch tactics and then she was off with a litany of demands and questions. “What will you wear? Make certain your hair is off your neck. It’s one of your better attributes. Men like necks and a lot of skin, but don’t dress like a whore…”

Keira didn’t have the energy to argue. She didn’t care that Mark Burke was a nice guy. She didn’t care if she impressed him or not. The voice on the other end of the phone had her head throbbing at the base of her skull. The constant refrain of direction was old hat, something Keira had heard her entire life. “Pretty girls do this,” and “pretty girls don’t do that,” over and over until her mother was satisfied that she understood. She never had. She never wanted to. That voice felt like a weight around her neck. It crippled her most times, had her forgetting who she wanted to be; it made her doubt she had the stomach to walk away from this life one day. Her mother’s directives had become a fat mass in her gut and the older she got, the bigger that tumor of expectation felt.

Defeated for the moment, Keira could only offer random mumbles of “I know” and the occasional “yes, Mother” as her mother babbled on, dictated, instructed like a sergeant sending his men off to battle. And there was the threat, something dark her mother tried to hide behind sighs, behind veiled words she played off as advice. “Don’t screw this up, Keira” and “Don’t disappoint me” whispered behind each demand. There would be consequences. There were always consequences.

Keira didn’t notice the tears forming in her eyes. It had been years since they registered, not since her father’s death, not since what she was supposed to be had dulled grief in her so that she barely felt the burn.

She kept the phone nestled on her shoulder and leaned her head against the mattress, ignoring the instruction, and around her, Leann’s constant bustling went still. She thought her cousin may have left in the midst of Keira’s marching orders, but then a hand on her ankle had her setting down the phone on the floor when she sat up.

You okay? Leann mouthed, her cousin’s annoyance at her earlier pouting clearly gone.

“Same as always.” She frowned when an errant tear slid down her face, then rolled her eyes at herself before she rubbed her face dry and picked up the phone again. Her mother hadn’t taken a breath, had started up a stupid line of questioning about what lingerie Keira would wear. “Okay, I got it. Don’t worry.” And then she turned off the phone.

Leann crawled next to her on the floor, scooting to the end of the bed to grab Keira’s guitar before she sat next to her and handed the instrument over. Her cousin knew what she needed, knew how to ease the anger that had been simmering all day. This was more than her mother’s usual expectations. This was about the pressure of pacifying the woman, and it was about Kona. It was about shock and disappointment and the heartache she didn’t want to admit came from seeing what he’d done that morning.

Hands on the strings, Keira’s fingertips followed in the grooves, sliding on the frets and she felt calmer, like each hollow in the wood was a sedative she couldn’t do without.

She sang Leann a song. Her cousin had always been her single audience, the only person Keira knew would never tell her she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t anything but blessed. The words came to her from her childhood; something about lyric and starlight and promises her father made.

Music made her weep. She remembered the steady strum of her father’s guitar, the sweet whine of his low voice, songs he sang to himself so that she couldn’t tell if he could even carry a tune. He wrote words on brown paper bags. He collected rows of thick, rough paper in a shoe box and they became a dozen lessons to teach her, a thousand words that sought to guide her, to show her that the world was not what her mother believed. Her father’s looping scrawls were guidelines, that box of broken dreams, his map of what she could have.

“It will be different for you,” he’d told her. She was his child and the good parts of her mother that had not been killed by greed and money and social standing. “Try to collect the stars, Keira. Put them in your pocket, send them in an envelope to another version of yourself, one that is older, one that understands your mother better. That way, when you’re older, when you know yourself a little better, that collection of stars will fill you up, remind you of the nights we sang our songs, of the days when you smiled with me.”

Those days had not lasted, became infrequent and sparse and Keira forgot about the stars. She forgot to send that letter and when he died, when her mother and all those impossible expectations got too great for him, Keira took those brown bags smudged with her father’s words and she stuffed them in the casket, underneath a tailored jacket he’d never worn. She wanted them next to his heart.

But music still made her weep. Not every song, not every note, but when something came to her, when she heard the hint of her father in the rhyme and lyric that danced in her head, she cried. That had been his legacy; the small whisper of his hope, the bright, incredible anticipation of happiness he believed she would have some day.

Sitting with her cousin, telling her that story in each note she sang, made Keira happy, made her vanquish all the intolerable things her mother wanted her to be; the cruel way she tried to make sure Keira would become that person she wanted her to be.

When the final note vibrated into silence, Leann sighed, a contented little exhale that broke the melancholy in the room.

“Come with me and Michael to Nathan’s party. It’s off campus. We don’t have to stay long and you can have Mark meet you there.”

“Nathan Andrews?” Leann rested her head on Keira’s shoulder and she felt her nod. “Nathan Andrews who I have never spoken to in my life, ever?”

“Keira, there will be a million people there and free drinks.” She sat up, nudged her leg. “You need one night of fun, of absolute bedlam. You’re eighteen. You’re in college and you said Mark was cute.”

“So?”

“So, why don’t you come have free drinks with me and Michael and bring McCuteness back here for some naked college shenanigans?”

Kona, she thought, knew all about shenanigans. Kona had gotten up to shenanigans that morning and Keira tried not to think about how badly that hurt. She didn’t know why. They were friends. They were only friends and whatever she’d invented in her mind about them wouldn’t change that fact or erase the image of Tonya Lucas coming out of his room.

“I don’t want to have shenanigans with anyone, Leann.”

Her cousin moved her shoulders, exaggerated the movement with another sigh she forced out. “And that’s your problem. Not enough shenanigans in your life.” Leann moved across the room, picking up her towel before she hung her head out of the bathroom door. “It’s fine, Keira. You go have coffee with Mark and come back here all alone. I’m sure that’s what your mom wants you to do.”

Leann was a manipulative little shit when it came to things she wanted, and for some reason, she wanted Keira to be anyone than herself tonight. Taunting her with her mother’s expectations was the perfect way to move Keira into action. And so, she let her cousin dress her in something that her mother would not approve of. She let Leann convince her to go to a party with a boy she didn’t know very well. Keira let herself forget about being proper and appropriate. For one night at least, she would be a girl who liked shenanigans.

***

Kona

VANESSA ROTH’S nearly naked ass was directly in front of Kona’s face.

She bent over, cheeks bared under her blue and green plaid skirt, and her four inch stilettos left scratches on Nathan’s oak coffee table as she danced on top of it. Joining her, Mimi Walker was similarly dressed, bumping against Vanessa’s hips. Both girls jiggled their asses to Method Man and Mary J’s “You're All I Need to Get By.”

Bitches ruined Kona’s favorite song.

“Come dance with us, Kona.” Vanessa’s voice was heavy, like she had smoked too much weed or downed one too many Heinekens and Kona thought she was a sloppy idiot.

Kona waved her off, slipping down further on the sofa with his legs spread and one arm flung across the back. He was relaxed, a glass of Abita Amber in his hands, and maybe he was a little buzzed, but still wholly uninterested in the two girls putting on a show for him.

“Something’s up with you if those two aren’t getting your attention.” Luka slumped next to his twin, eyes working all the up Vanessa’s leg.

“Nothing wrong with me.”

“You’re full of shit, brah.” Luka was trying to be cool. Kona could tell. He kept licking his bottom lip like he imagined Vanessa was on the end of it and Kona tried not to laugh at how obvious his brother was being.

“You want her, do something.” Another pull on his bottle and Luka leaned next to him, eyes still moving up those impossibly long legs. “Stop staring like a punk.”

Luka waved him off, finally pulling his gaze from the dancing girls. “What’s your problem? You’ve been off all day.”

Instead of answering, Kona moved his head, drinking again as he looked around the room. Nathan’s apartment was huge and lush and completely out of element with anything Kona had ever lived in. His mother did okay. She worked hard, had provided for Kona and Luka very well. But they had never lived in anything like this.

The floors were polished marble, dark with light gray streaks circling in the center of the room. The furniture was modern, leather and every space in the open-concept layout was either brown, black or gray. It wasn’t homey. It wasn’t like his mother’s comfortable, plush sofas lined with thick throws and from-the-island pillows. There weren’t any flowers in this place, no sweet smells from the garden that always helped Kona drift off when he stayed with her. And, unlike the little Victorian his mother and Kuku still lived in on St. Charles, there was no music, no warmth brought in by family pictures or old, busted figurines that reminded Kona of his childhood in Hawaii. Nathan’s place was nice enough, but Kona felt suffocated by the people and the air of pretension.

The party had been in full swing for a good two hours or so, full of smoking hot girls drunk on liquor, life and the idea of being at a player’s party. Kona didn’t care, really. Girls gave him a show, always, especially those interested in potentialing him hard, but he was bored of it all. This kind of party happened most nights at the team house and it was nothing new to see girls like Vanessa and Mimi, half naked and careless of how common they looked.

Next to him, Luka sat up, muttered a low curse and Kona followed the jerk of his head toward the front door and the asshole that walked in through it.

“Fuck,” he said, knowing that Luka was going to bitch. He hated Ricky. Kona knew why, but he didn’t need shit started tonight. “Man, don’t.”

The beer in Luka’s hand cracked when he slammed it on the coffee table in front of them and Vanessa and Mimi squealed, slinging their feet back from the spilled mess Luka made.

“I swear to God, Kona, if you don’t stop this shit.”

“I am, brah. I swear.” He grabbed Luka’s collar when his twin started to leave the sofa. “Just be cool. I told Ricky I was out.”

“Yeah, like you said a month ago?” Luka sat back and Kona hated the way he looked at him, hated to see the disappointment in his brother’s eyes.

It had started too simply, out of necessity, but now what he did for Ricky had become an obligation that Kona couldn’t see his way out of. “He’s not gonna bug me. I talked to him earlier.”

“He was just at the house. What the hell is he doing here?”

“I’m not his keeper, Lu.”

Kona hoped his brother would be calm, but he knew how upset Luka got when Ricky or any of the shit that followed him was near Kona. He needed to deflect, to ease the tension as quickly as possible and so he nodded toward Vanessa as she helped Mimi off the table and the girl smiled, moving toward him like a deer learning to walk for the first time.

“Finally,” she said, landing on Kona’s lap. He looked to his right, caught Luka’s glare and then moved Vanessa’s nibbling teeth off of his ear.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you keep my brother company, yeah?”

It took her a second to adjust between them. She slipped once, but Kona caught her and she landed with an “umpf” on Luka’s lap. Kona wasn’t paying attention to anyone but his brother. He wanted to make sure that he’d calmed enough to stay off Ricky’s radar and so he didn’t notice Keira until Vanessa looped her arm around Luka’s shoulder with her legs stretched out against Kona’s knees.

Keira stood next to the bar in the kitchen directly across from him, talking to Leann and the guy he’d seen her cousin with on campus. Watching her, Kona forgot about his brother’s temper or the asshole on the other side of the room that had Kona by the balls.

Keira look like a fucking goddess; hair down her back in waves; brown skirt hitting above her knees and a pair of leather boots that wrapped her muscular calves like a second skin. His dick got twitchy just looking at her, at that plump ass and how the creamy top she wore cupped her in lace.

He tried to smile at her, forgetting for a moment how she’d stung him that day when he walked out of his room with Tonya Lucas and her scent still clinging to him. He’d spent all afternoon feeling like an asshole and wondering why Keira made him feel guilty for doing something that was second nature to him.

But tonight with her across the room, looking as beautiful as she did, smiling, relaxed, had Kona itching to beg her forgiveness. That live wire was too damn tempting and he wanted to burn in her. He wanted to burn in her so bad. He knew what she thought of him and the only thing he wanted right then was to change her opinion.

Keira took the drink that Leann handed her, then held it still in front of her when something her cousin said made her laugh. Those blue eyes shone across the room in her humor and then landed right on Kona. He tried smiling, even sat up and pushed Vanessa’s legs off him, but Keira’s gaze shifted from his hands on the drunk girl’s ankles, extracting her away from him, to Luka at his right. The smile fell from her face and she returned her attention to her cousin.

“Shit,” Kona said, feeling stupid and guilty again.

“Man, she looks good tonight.” Luka moved Vanessa head out of way and smiled at Keira.

“Why you looking at her?”

Luka’s mouth hung open and Kona could see his brother was trying hard not to laugh at him. “Brah, that’s why you’ve been acting like a dick?” He nodded toward Keira, then finally let go of his laughter. “You’re worried because she saw you with that Tonya girl?”

“No.” Kona knew his answer came too quick and he rolled his eyes at Luka when his laughter grew louder.

“Go talk to her, asshole.”

A low grunt vibrated in Kona’s throat and he punched Luka in the shoulder, feeling like Keira’s presence tonight would have him on edge. But, he knew his twin was right. He was acting like a punk because Keira made him feel guilty, made him feel like he was something undeserving of her attention. Right then, he really wanted that attention. He leaned forward, took a final sip of his beer, steeling himself to walk across the room, and then dropped his beer onto the floor when he saw a guy walk right up to Keira and kiss her cheek.

“Damn, brah. Too late,” Luka said, his amused voice only adding to Kona’s simmering anger.

Keira turned to face the guy and the smile that the sight of Kona with Vanessa’s legs on his lap had erased, returned and she let that motherfucker hold her hand.

***

Keira

SHENANIGANS WERE STUPID.

That’s the first thought Keira had when Leann dragged her into the party. There were too many people acting like depraved idiots. Too many girls drunkenly dancing on the furniture or straddling whatever football player had a free lap. The music was too loud and, oh yeah, Kona Hale was glaring at her like she had stolen something from him.

“We don’t have to stay.” Leann’s voice carried over the music, but Keira still had to lean toward her to make out what she’d said.

“It’s okay.” She moved her chin toward Michael and Mark, smiling. “Looks like they’re having fun.”

Leann shook her head and slid across the bar to stand closer to her cousin. “Who knew, right?” She glanced again at her boyfriend and the animated way he was talking to Mark. “Freaking lacrosse. We won’t get two words in for the rest of the night.”

Keira smiled, then nodded her thanks to Leann when she handed her a shot. She hesitated only for a moment but then caved when her cousin’s eyebrow disappeared beneath her bangs. “Fine. But this is the last one.” The tequila went down with a burn, but before Keira could do more than squint and frown at the taste, Leann shoved a lime in her mouth and the bitter taste disappeared. “God. Why?”

“We’re young and irresponsible. We’re supposed to do stupid things.”

The juice from Leann’s lime ran down her wrist and Keira grabbed a napkin off the bar to hand to her cousin. At least she tried to, but Kona walked up on the other side at the same time and Keira moved her hand off of the counter. She meant to turn, to stare over his head, look anywhere other than at his scowling, bad-tempered expression, but Keira was trying something new; she wouldn’t let Kona’s mood ruin her night. So, instead of scampering away like a coward, she lifted her chin, then squinted at him, silently challenging Kona to say anything to piss her off.

Kona’s stare lingered for a moment and in his expression was something Keira knew wasn’t forced. He either didn’t like her being here or he was still pissed off at the low blow she’d served him at the team house. At least, that’s what Keira thought his look meant. But then Kona shifted his eyes to her left and his frown deepened, lips pursed as he watched Mark laughing with Michael.

You’ve got to be shitting me, she thought, realizing that Kona’s anger had nothing to do with her telling him he’d never change.

Kona stepped closer to the bar, leaned on his elbows. “Having a good time?” he asked Keira, still watching Mark.

“Yep. You?”

“Oh, I’m good, Wildcat.” He took a swig from his bottle, but didn’t let his eyes leave her face.

“Do not call me that.” Her voice came out too loud, and Keira cursed to herself when she noticed a few people turn in her direction. She knew her cheeks were setting off like a flame. She could feel the prickle of her embarrassment rush up her skin.

“Is there a problem?” Leann asked, turning around to face Kona.

“None,” he told her cousin, his smile exaggerating the cleft in his chin. “I think your cousin here is in a bad mood.”

“My cousin,” Leann said, locking her arm with Keira’s, “is not in a mood. At least she wasn’t until you showed up.”

“I was here first, sweetheart. You’re in my world.” To emphasize his point, Kona lifted his hands and gestured around him. Several of players loitered behind him, chatting, drinking, kissing whatever mouth was on top of theirs, but at his voice raised, a few stepped up behind him and laughed, slapping his back.

“We can leave.” Keira wouldn’t look at Kona, couldn’t stand seeing the entitled jackass attitude he wore like a cloak. Leann’s lips parted, an argument broaching, and Keira knew she’d have something particularly harsh to level at Kona. Leann wove insults like a master, but Keira didn’t have the energy to deal with drama and was about two hours past enjoying Leann’s promised shenanigans. “It’s fine, Leann. Let’s just go.”

“Something wrong?” Mark said, walking to Keira’s side.

“No. We’re good.” She grabbed his hand and started to turn. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, Wildcat, don’t leave. The party’s just getting good.” Kona’s voice got even louder and all around him, drunken players and their companions cheered.

“Come on,” Leann said, dragging Michael behind her as she headed toward the door. She knew her cousin would have to hurry her boyfriend from the scene. He was up to two strikes for stupid shit he’d gotten into the summer before and being in the middle of a fight could earn him a third.

Keira turned away from the bar, was right on her cousin’s heels and out in the hall with Mark next to her, when she felt a tug on her wrist and the imposing, heated sensation of a large, obnoxious jackass behind her. “Leaving already?”

“Hey, man, what’s your problem?” Mark looked fearless, pissed and Keira was impressed that his being a good four inches shorter than Kona didn’t make him back down from the big linebacker. “Why don’t you leave her alone?”

Kona barely glanced at Mark and Keira thought it wouldn’t be stupid at all to claw his eyes out or slap that pompous smirk off his face when Mark’s words were ignored.

“Who is this guy?” he asked her, his head jerking toward Mark who had stepped in front of her.

Keira nodded to Leann at the elevator, telling her with a head jerk to take off and then, she rounded on Kona. “He’s my date and he’s leaving with me.” It took three yanks on his sleeve, but Mark finally followed her, stepping backward to glare at Kona as they made for the elevator. She glanced at his face, eyes narrowed, his mouth drawn down hard, and Keira closed her eyes, said a small prayer that Kona would give up and let them leave.

No such luck.

“Keira, hold up,” Kona said, the harsh tone of his voice changed, softened by his small plea.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to back off.” Mark had to look up to glare at Kona and a quick rush of gratitude filled Keira’s chest at her date’s determined expression.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Kona finally glanced at Mark, arms over his chest like he had to force himself to keep his hands still. He nodded to Keira. “I was talking to her.”

Mark’s shoulders straightened and he pulled himself to all of his 6’, but the threatening stance he held and the small scowl curling his mouth didn’t seem to intimidate Kona. Keira could taste the crackle of violence on the air, the heavy sense that if she walked away, Kona and Mark’s pissing contest would become a bloody mess.

She liked Mark. He was a nice guy. He was tall and broad, but he didn’t have Kona’s size. He didn’t make strangers take a step away from him when he walked down the street. Kona did, and Keira thought being beaten senseless by a jealous linebacker wouldn’t be Mark’s idea a good first date.

Kona grinned, mouth bunched to the right, an expression that read like a taunt as he tipped his head to the side and watched Mark like he was a kid on a playground. “You got something to say to me, brah?” Mark took a step and Kona met him, that smug, bastard sneer still on his face.

“That’s enough.” Keira wedged herself between them, her back to Mark’s front, and when he slipped his hand on her hip, Kona moved his jaw into a grind. Keira acted quickly, worried that the growing anger seething in Kona’s eyes as he stared at Mark’s hand would only spiral into something she couldn’t control. She pushed Kona’s chest, made him step back and rounded on Mark. “Give me a second, okay?”

His gaze left Kona’s face and some of the anger dimmed from his expression, but he didn’t take his hand off her hip and he kept that defensive bearing in his shoulders. “I don’t like this,” he told her, gaze shifting to Kona. Keira let Mark lead her, as he walked back, holding her fingers. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“No.” She didn’t like how quietly she answered him or how much saying the word bothered her. “There’s…something, but it’s not like that.” She glanced behind her to see Kona leaning on one shoulder, arms folded, against the wall. “He won’t touch me.” She knew that. Whatever Kona was, he’d never be a threat to her and she hoped Mark could see she believed that. “He’s just trying to mark his territory or something. It’s no big deal.”

Mark hesitated, squinted at Kona. “Keira, that guy is a freaking silverback.” Again, he glanced behind her and the frown returned to his face. “Look at him. That isn’t a dude who thinks you’re no big deal.”

Over her shoulder, Keira caught Kona’s glare. Despite how cool, calm he held himself, his eyes were lit with something she’d seen in him before. It was wild and dark and had Keira feeling that stare could break her.

When Mark said it, when a small line formed across his forehead, something shifted in Keira’s mind. She and Kona had skirted around this for weeks now. It was the unspoken current that hissed against her skin when he looked at her. It was that small, still whisper in her subconscious that she pretended she couldn’t hear. It had been there from that first night in her dorm. It was that little burst of energy she felt when she touched his arm as he throttled her attacker. It was the same pull that made her stay with him at the hospital; that had her kissing him before she left.

Kona knew it was there, he’d told her as much, but until Mark confirmed it, until someone outside looking in pointed it out, Keira’s blinders stayed firm. Now they had been removed and the heft of what she felt, what Kona incited in her, worked out of her skin like a sweat.

Mark dropped her fingers and the severe pull of his mouth softened, returned to the sweet smile she’d already grown used to. “What’s my play here? Do you want me to duck out so you can have a conversation? Or do I just cut my losses and forget I have your number?” Keira bit her lip and stared at a small curl flattened against Mark’s forehead. When she said nothing, hesitated to slide her gaze back toward Kona, Mark sighed. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

She watched Mark slip into the elevator, stared after him as it moved down each floor, the light on the numbers overhead dinging off with each descent, but she didn’t turn around. Behind her, Kona left the wall, stood too close. She could see his large shadow cover hers on the floor in front of her. Her thoughts were scattered, a jumble of anger and want and confusion that she could not organize into logic.

Kona had acted like an asshole, that shouldn’t have surprised her, but it was his attitude, he jealous glares and taunting scowls at Mark that had lit the fuse of her anger. He did that, seemed to be the only one to tease at the root of her temper, begging it to raise, to rankle into something that would be ugly.

“Keira—” just the sound of his voice, now calm, now mildly apologetic, flooded growth and sustenance right onto that newborn root and she jerked around, ready to attack.

“What exactly is your malfunction?”

“Mine? What about you?” Kona pinched his lips together and Keira was too angry, too annoyed to read into that defensive expression. “Who the hell is that guy?”

“I’m sorry, how’s that your business?” She took a step, a quick one that had Kona moving back.

“It’s not.” It was then that Kona’s arrogance deflated somewhat. Hands working through his hair, the linebacker grunted, moving his neck as though he struggled with a reasonable excuse for his anger. “I just think you could do better.”

Keira could only shake her head, staggered by the small, futile defense Kona grasped onto. “Mark is pre-med. He comes from a good family and he volunteers at the battered women’s shelter. What’s bad about any of that?”

Kona’s laugh was quick and bitter. “You don’t like him.”

He was doing it again—that assumption thing that galled Keira into a whip of fury. “Fuck you, Kona. You don’t know what I like.”

He stepped forward, shoulders coming up. “You barely talked to him all night.” Back again was his attitude and with it, the elevation of his voice that told Keira his own temper was percolating. “He and Leann’s man were all on each other’s dicks. He’s not into you and I know you’re not into him.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” It was a pointless argument, something Keira decided right then she didn’t need to bother with. Kona Hale didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know her, he didn’t see her and she wouldn’t spend another minute letting him pretend he did. “You never will.” When she turned, eyes narrowed, focused on the down button on the elevator, Kona followed and this time when he grabbed her arm, his fingers bit into her skin.

“Yeah? Bullshit.” She jerked her arm away from him, shoved him once when he backed her next to the elevator. She expected his voice to be licked with fury; his eyes certainly flickered with anger, but when he spoke, Kona’s tone went flat, almost blunt. “You like music and Les Mis and onion rings with extra ketchup.” He stepped closer, eyes calmer. “You like Toni Morrison and think you were Shakespeare’s woman in a past life.” Another retreat from those dark eyes and Keira’s back was against the wall.

He’d remembered. Small tidbits of likes and dislikes, weird habits that she didn’t think anyone noticed, fears of what she didn’t want to become—Kona had paid attention to them all. Quick lunch grabs in the cafeteria and long nights in the library, both of them sweaty and stinking from practice, both rambling about their childhoods, about their families, it all came back to her then. Kona was a mammoth presence with a bigger personality that most days Keira found overwhelming. But there was a person behind that strength and sarcasm that he’d let her see. There was someone kind, someone who just wanted to be heard and Kona had shown her in brief glimpses, small smiles, that until then, she’d put out of her mind. She hadn’t wanted to get attached. She didn’t think he’d bother, but as Kona’s gaze slipped around her face, as his breath moved like a whisper across her cheeks, she realized he’d also seen the girl she was when she thought no one was watching.

“You hate football,” he said, rolling his eyes, “and if you ever have a kid, you want to name her Lennon, maybe Joplin.” Kona moved inches from her then, elbow on the wall by her ear. The space between their faces grew smaller, breath hotter then, closer. “You like sonnets and poetry but are too nervous to enter a poetry slam or sing in front of anyone but Leann.” He brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Does that asshole know any of that?” There was no tease in his voice, no inflection that made Keira want to lash out. It was curiosity, wonder and, Keira thought, the hint of hope.

She couldn’t think of a defense, nothing that would answer the question in his eyes. “Mark isn’t an asshole and you need to back up.”

“You don’t want me to back up, Wildcat.”

“Stop calling me—”

“Shut up.” He took her face, large fingers stretching across her cheek, the tips resting on her temple. And then, the smell of beer, the warm touch of his lips covering her mouth and Kona Hale kissed Keira Riley.

Hard.

She heard his growl, felt the tilt of her head as Kona moved it, fingers pressing down and that moan grew deeper. Keira wouldn’t let him control her, wouldn’t release the sweet heat of her anger as Kona consumed her mouth. When he slipped his free hand around her arm, pulling her forward, Keira’s temper flared bright, hot and she pushed back the buzz on her skin and the thought of how delicious he tasted.

He’d kissed her. Again. No regard for her temper. He was too much, assumed too much, wanted too much and Keira couldn’t contain her rage. She pulled away from his mouth and tried not to stare at the wet shine on his bottom lip. Chest moving hard, Kona challenged her with glare, leaned back in, but Keira’s palm against his chest stopped him.

“Don’t do that again.”

“You liked it.” He hadn’t moved; elbow still on the wall at her side, breath fanning against her lashes and then, Kona let some of that arrogant attitude surface. “I liked it.” He underlined his point by moving his hips, brushing his hard dick right against her. “I really fucking liked it.”

Keira didn’t think, didn’t question why the ripple of heat crowding between her thighs was nothing to the whip of anger Kona’s little move roused in her. She didn’t care that he was beautiful. She didn’t care that she wanted him to kiss her, everywhere. Kona smirked, his throat moving with another growl and she lashed out, pushed his chin with her nails digging deep. She meant to move him aside, to eliminate that leer from her sight, but the sweat from his skin made her fingers slide and she scratched an angry cut along his cheek.

Kona’s hiss was low and Keira could see, by the return of his glare and the tremble on his top lip that he was trying to control his anger. A half a step, barely passable as a movement at all, and Keira’s heart thudded hard. Nostrils flared with his heavy exhale and then, like a blink, Kona’s smug smile erased his anger.

“Didn’t know you liked the rough shit, Wildcat.”

It was his laugh that blinded her. She couldn’t hear anything but the heavy rush of her blood pumping in her ears and the echo of his humor in the dark hallway. Then, the rage that only Kona could pull from her, had her lashing out. She stood straight, defensive, and slapped him right across the face.

The sound was like a whip, quick and deafening. She’d moved away from herself in that moment, replaced by some creature consumed with venom and she didn’t understand why her fingers stung or why Kona’s head was turned away from her and his skin was streaked with a bright red handprint.

He turned his head, unhurried, a shift in his eyes that came before his face was back in front of her. And inexplicably, the look he gave her and then the slow, meticulous slide of his tongue in the corner of his mouth, had Keira’s nipples pebbling against her shirt.

That look made her wet.

She expected his anger. She expected him to back away, to snatch from her the heat that his body and the moment poured over her skin. But Kona’s eyes did not narrow. They didn’t squint down in his anger and his face was not a mask of abject rage. Kona Hale brought his tongue into his mouth, before the cleft in his chin came up and a smile slid across his face.

Keira stopped breathing.

And then that mysterious, unnamable zip that always crackled between them shot out hard, like the force of a lightning bolt, and Keira didn’t think about why she wasn’t scared, why she found it impossible to squeeze her legs together tight enough to take the throb away.

The throb became a pulse and that pulse beat into an ache when Kona’s deep growl grew louder, sounded nearer the closer he leaned toward her. The growl wasn’t angry, wasn’t a coil of frustration and Kona paused, lingered just long enough in front of Keira until all she felt was hot, tantalizing breath on her face.

Kona grabbed her collar and Keira let him, wanted him close, wanted him dragging her forward. “I fucking love your hands on me, Wildcat.”

They came together quick, with the speed of a shot. The frenzy was hard, gripping, gripping fingers, mouths and tongues colliding, anger and desire and beautiful heat collecting, touching so that the zip Keira had denied for weeks flooded into a landslide.

For every thrust against her, Keira gave two. With Kona’s strong hands pulling her against him, Keira scratched across his skin and the dance played on, harder, fiercer, shedding logic or caution.

Push.

Pull.

Give.

Take.

Their sounds filled the empty hallway; moans and grunts, breaths held and released, lips sucking, all became a cacophony of sounds that announced the break of resistance and the end of denial.

Kona lifted her up, pressed her against the wall and some primal urge directed her, had her slipping her legs around his waist, skirt rising up her thighs and Keira didn’t care that they could be discovered. The idea of someone catching them, in fact, made her wetter, had her clawing at Kona tighter.

“God…oh God,” she said when Kona grabbed her ass, when she felt the thick, brutal outline of his dick jutting against her. She craved that touch, the weight and girth of what waited for her, his hot, heavy breath on her skin, of his wide, perfect tongue slipping in her mouth. Kona was large, too large and consuming, his weight too heavy against her chest, his fingers too tight against her nipples and Keira pulled back, gasping from the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t breathe.”

“I got plenty breath for the both of us.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow and Keira felt both drunk and consumed, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and at that moment all she wanted was Kona’s skin on hers, the smell of his sweat, the heat of his body covering her.

Dizziness came to her, made the air around her confining and she pulled her mouth from his, needing a moment to breathe air that did not taste and smell of Kona to keep from drowning. “Wait.”

His grunt was deep, frustrated, but Kona pulled back, chest in a heavy pant, his forehead on her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. And in that moment the old Keira gained a toe-hold, and she let reason slip back in between the raging, dark thoughts. “What the hell are we doing?” He looked up at her and she gasped at the claw marks on his neck and the angry scratch on his chin. When had she done that? “Oh God. What…what the hell are we doing?”

“Keira, it’s been coming for weeks. You know that.”

“This is stupid. This, I’m not…this isn’t me.”

“No. It’s not.” Kona pulled her legs from his waist and his hands moved back to her face. His voice was level, calm. “This is you with me.”

Instinct had her retreating. She had groped Kona in the middle of a strange hallway where anyone could see them. She had left Mark downstairs waiting and Leann likely worrying about how she’d get home. She’d attacked Kona, got turned on - so very turned on - by the scratches and slaps she leveled at him. She let him touch her. She let him grip her. These were not the actions of a sane person. And the fear of what she had done, of what she had allowed herself to do, crowded deep in her mind, had Keira taking too many breaths, shifting too far away from Kona’s reaching arms.

“I have to go.”

“Why? Going to find your date?”

“No, I’m just getting away from you.”

His arms came around her waist when she made for the elevator. “Don’t act like being with me would be a bad thing.” His chest felt wide, edges and dips that she couldn’t help leaning against. “Don’t act like you don’t want me.” She didn’t bother arguing, resisting the wet path he made against her neck with his lips. “I’m not like this, not usually. Only with you. You’re in my head too much. The smell of your hair, the way you taste, your nerdy jokes. I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me stupid.”

“I told you, Kona,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t do hook ups. I’m not Tonya.”

Kona winced and Keira took a step forward, needing not to see that expression. “I know you’re not and I’m glad you’re not her.” He took her hand, pulled her around so she could see his eyes. “There isn’t anyone like you, Wildcat. No one, and I have no idea what that means, but I wanna find out.” When Kona moved his hands down her back, Keira could only think of tasting his full lips and the airy breath on her tongue again. “Let me, will you? Don’t walk away.”

She knew how easy saying yes would be. Kona was hard to reject, but Keira didn’t trust whatever was happening between them. It felt too foreign, too thick. “I…I can’t. Not with you, Kona. I’m not…”

“This about Tonya still? You think I’m into her.” He looked up at the ceiling, stretching his neck. “I’m not,” he said, staring back at her. “I’m not into anyone. You can’t hold that against me forever.”

“Why not? I’m only observing, here. Only collecting the facts to form an opinion.”

Shoulders slumping, Kona pulled back, but didn’t seem able to keep his hands off her completely. “You think I’m trash?”

“I think you’re easily bored. I think you have no idea what real emotion is.” A breath, and then Keira cleared her throat. “I think you’re incapable of what I want. Thin will never be good enough for me.”

With his frown, Keira knew Kona was remembering their conversation about Beloved. She wanted the real, the impossible, the consuming, and despite how they touched each other, how the fire between them set flame to their bodies, she wasn’t convinced Kona was able to be what she needed.

“Let me try.”

“I can’t…”

“I’m not making promises,” he said, ignoring her protest. “That’s not me.” His hand went back to her face and just that small touch rekindled the ache between her thighs. “But dammit, Keira, I have to be around you.” He walked them back, leaned her against the wall again and Kona’s breath came out hard, like he was trying to keep it steady. “You have to let me try.”

Next to them, the elevator doors opened and despite the warning that came when the bell chimed, Kona did not push away from Keira. Neither of them checked the hallway or noticed they weren’t alone.

“Keira?” Mark’s voice was like an alarm and Keira pulled Kona’s hand from her face, tried to adjust her shirt, smooth her hair. When his eyes shifted over her rumpled clothes, Keira saw the shifting expression on Mark’s face. A little disappointment, maybe a quirk of humor. He still reserved a quick frown for Kona. “You okay?”

“She’s fine.” Kona pulled Keira’s fingers between his.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Mark said, throwing back Kona’s words to him.

The linebacker’s breath grew heavy and Keira could tell by the flex in his hand that his calm was ebbing. She hurried in front of him, not caring for once that her cheeks were flushed. “I’m fine, Mark.” She smiled, took a step toward him when he continued to frown. “Promise.”

Mark waited a moment, gaze moving between Kona and Keira before it settled on her face. “Leann and Michael took a cab back to his place. My car’s parked a block away.” He left the offer open, telling Keira he’d let her make a decision.

“I’ll get her home.”

Mark didn’t bother acknowledging Kona. Fair play for the asshole behavior, Keira figured, but when Mark’s squint and slow quirking smile told her he wasn’t angry, Keira relaxed.

She could feel Kona’s breath blowing against the top of her head. She could smell the mix of sweat and cologne from his skin and, despite the audience, the sensation was overwhelming, penetrating so that Kona’s brief, brush of a touch against her neck had Keira’s eyes rolling behind her closed lids. The moment kept with the pads of his thumb down her spine and it was only Mark’s clearing of his throat that brought Keira out of Kona’s touch.

“I’ll be fine,” she finally told him.

A quick nod and Mark hit the elevator button, but before he left, he winked at Keira, a quick smile making him seem calm, or at least, less annoyed. “You be careful with this new game plan.”

She smiled at him, offered Mark a quick nod. “Absolutely.”

CHAPTER TEN

KONA

KONA FELT LIKE A STALKER. A creepy, stupid, awkward stalker. It was not something he’d ever been. Sitting on the back of a park bench, elbows on his knees and hood over his eyes, Kona caught the attention of the people around him.

A cross country meet wasn’t usually where Kona would be on a Saturday morning and the coaches and scattering of parents around him seemed to know it. He caught several sidelong glances, one or two head nods, and he was glad that other than quick acknowledgements that he’d been recognized was all the notice the small crowd gave him.

Still, he felt stupid waiting near the finish line for Keira to place. She wasn’t expecting him, hadn’t, in fact, even answered the calls he’d made the night before. After their tangle in Nathan’s hallway, things got awkward. He’d driven Keira home and they sat in the parking lot of her building listening to the sound of their matching breaths. The car had filled with her scent, that sweet drugging taste of flower and skin, but Kona didn’t touch her. He’d wanted her to lead.

“What happens next?” she’d asked him and he’d been left stupid by her question.

He knew that being around her made things easier, left him calmer. But faced with that question and the way they’d gone after each other, left Kona at a loss for the next move. That never happened to him.

“Let me take you out,” he’d told her, the thought coming to him out of nowhere. “This weekend. Tomorrow night. No game tomorrow.”

What was left unmentioned then was the way she’d touched him. The slap to his face, what it did to him, how he’d wanted to devour her, he’d let it fill the space in his car, unsure if one glance, one sarcastic comment would have them trying to claw at each other again. So he waited for her reply, trying to ignore the fact that he held his breath until that answer came.

“Okay.” It was all she said. It was all she seemed able to say and when she finally looked at him, quick glance to her left that was shy, unrehearsed, Kona only nodded, held himself back.

He hadn’t even kissed her goodnight.

But he hated how he’d left things. He hated not knowing if she only agreed to a date out of curiosity. He hated that their first real kiss had been full of anger and resentment. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to feel her without any of it being a visceral reaction.

He’d spent the rest of the night in his room thinking about Keira’s mouth and skin and just how much he wanted to feel her, to have her with him always.

It completely messed with his head.

He didn’t know what was happening to him; what Keira was turning him into. He didn’t sleep the night before and found himself in the shower thinking of her; then in his Camaro driving toward her dorm that morning. The light outside her building had been faint, the day still dewy and dark, but Kona couldn’t stop himself from leaving his car, from climbing the stairs toward her dorm, from tapping on her door before seven that morning.

When Leann answered, hair pulled tight in a bun and wearing her leotards and dance shoes like she was about to head out, Kona at least had the decency to look apologetic. But the girl only squinted at him, the side of her mouth pinched in a suspicious frown.

“She’s not here,” she’d told him, looking like she was about to slam the door in his face.

“It’s not even seven? Where is she?” Kona tried not to wedge his foot between the door and its frame as Leann started to close it. He knew his voice sounded pathetic, that his words came out too loud.

“Why do you wanna know?” Leann was protecting her cousin. Kona had known that, but that hadn’t stopped him from moving his shoulders in a firm set. When he only inched up his eyebrow at her, Leann’s attitude deflated. “You like her?”

“Yeah.”

“You just want to have fun with her, Kona? Because she doesn’t need that shit.”

He rubbed his face, moved his knuckles into his eyes. “I like her, Leann. I like her a lot and if I just wanted to fuck her, I would have already.” He thought Leann would appreciate his honesty. “She’s got me spinning.” He looked down, kicked the tip of his sneaker against the doorframe. “No one does that to me.”

Finally, Leann exhaled, released what was left of her attitude. “She had a meet this morning at Lafitte Park. You can catch her at the finish line.”

Kona gave her a smile, grateful that at least Leann was being honest. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Kona?” Leann called, stopping him before he could jog down the hallway. He expected a threat, one that would wipe the stupid grin off his face. But Leanna walked into the hall and for once, her face wasn’t wrinkled with a frown and she didn’t glare at Kona like he was an asshole. Her eyes were soft and there was a plea in her expression, one that had Kona releasing his defenses. “Keira hasn’t had much happy. Try to give her a little bit, okay?”

So that’s what Kona was doing. Sitting on that park bench watching the trail to his left, wondering what about Keira Riley had him waiting, had him wanting to make her happy.

“You got money on this shit?”

Kona closed his eyes, dipped his face in his hands when Ricky slid next to him. “What’s up, man?”

“You tell me, Kona.” Around them a small crowd was forming near the still taped-off finish line. Ricky’s legs were long, longer than Kona’s, and he stretched them on the bench, his shoulders relaxed as he dug out a bag of sunflower seeds from his jacket. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Kona heard the crunch of the seeds in Ricky’s mouth and tried not to look at him. A runner started to approach, leaner and shorter than Keira, but he still watched, looking behind her for Keira.

“I’ve had shit to do. Been busy.”

To his right, Ricky spat out three empty shells and they landed on the trail in front of them. He exhaled and slipped another handful of seeds in his mouth. “After everything I’ve done for you, man and you can’t give me a half hour?”

“What do you want?” He finally looked at Ricky, feeling the quick slap of anger tunneling into his chest. Kona didn’t want Ricky here. He didn’t want that asshole seeing Keira. He didn’t want him asking questions or making Keira ask any.

Ricky waited a minute before he answered, cheeks lifting so that his bottom eyelids curled up. “Shipment is coming in. It’s a month away but I need bodies.”

“I told you I was out.”

The smile on Ricky’s face wasn’t good-natured, it wasn’t friendly and Kona’s gaze lowered to the sunflower seed cracking between his teeth. “Kona, you can’t just walk away.” The crowd started to clap, but Kona kept his eyes on Ricky, on that not-a-smile grin and the slip of his black eyes behind Kona. “No one just walks away.” Ricky stood, moved his chin toward the trail and Kona followed him, his gut twisted hard when he saw Keira just feet behind the second place runner. Her face was flushed and her hair was matted with sweat to her forehead. That tight track uniform exaggerated the curve of her hips and the generous round of her breasts. She looked gorgeous. She focused hard, eyes narrowed as she gunned for the finish line.

“I noticed you took off last night.” Kona didn’t care that Ricky was still talking. He didn’t care that he’d followed him, sought him out. His attention was on Keira and her blue track shorts, the way her skin colored, the closer she got to the end of the trail. “She’s hot,” Ricky said, and Kona whipped his head around, blocked the guy from Keira’s view.

“You need to not look at her.”

“Calm down. I’m not gonna fuck with your girl.” Hands on his jeans, Ricky dusted away the seeds from his fingers. His gray jacket was thin, but lined with padding. He shoved his packet of seeds in his pocket and Kona caught the glint of black metal in his waistband. “But Kona, shit happens when I don’t get my way.” Ricky watched Keira run past them. She cleared the finish, stopping a good twenty feet behind it with her coach jogging toward her, handing her a bottle of water and her sweats. “And I always get my way.”

Keira was already dressed, leaning on her knees to catch her breath. Kona didn’t want Ricky there. He didn’t want the threat of what Kona did for him to touch her. It took control, mammoth control, but Kona kept his hands in his pockets and didn’t move them around Ricky’s throat. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

“I will,” he said, finally looking away from Keira. “You just make sure you pick up your phone.”

Kona followed Ricky until he passed the runners and their families and he tried not to frown too hard when the man stared at Keira again, when his eyes raked up her long legs. Kona approached her trying to cool his temper, trying to push back the thought that Ricky knew who he’d been waiting for.

Keira smiled when he approached, but he could tell she felt awkward, nervous.

“You came? I didn’t tell you about the meet.”

He took the towel from her hand and wiped her face dry. “I wanted to see you. Couldn’t sleep last night.” Kona smiled, loving how red her face was, how cool her skin felt. “You place?”

“Third.” The small smile that had been working on her face disappeared and she looked behind her at the two girls who’d finished ahead of her.

“That a bad thing?”

“It’s not first.”

He appreciated her irritation. They were both athletes. They both liked to win, third place was last place and he got why she was disappointed. Keira walked past him, headed away from where the runners and their coaches were standing. He followed after her. “Don’t they do ribbons or medals or something?”

She nodded, pouring the remainder of her water over her face. “Gotta keep moving so I don’t cramp. Walk with me.”

“Hey,” he said, stopping her with a tug of her wrist.

“What?” Keira rubbed the towel across her wet skin and stepped back when Kona stood in front of her.

This was new for him, chasing after a girl, trying to get her attention, but Kona didn’t mind that Keira was making him work. He didn’t mind that she let her competitiveness distract her. He wasn’t the center of her attention and, oddly, that didn’t bother him.

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. We’ll catch a bite when this is all over.” He waved to the runners and the coaches nodding their girls over. Kona walked with Keira back toward the other runners. He took her hand, ignored her expression when her eyes lingered too long at their fingers locked together. “Don’t have a heart attack or anything.”

Kona loved the sound of her laugh, how it made a quick snap of sensation work in his stomach. He enjoyed that feeling, let it fill him as he led her toward her coach, but his eyes moved around them, searching for the threat he didn’t want touching her.

***

Keira

HE HADN’T STOPPED TOUCHING her. Not once, all night. At the restaurant Kona kept his calf right against hers as they sat at the crowded bar eating. On the levee, watching the street performers flip and dance around the French Quarter, he kept his hand flat against her back. As they walked back to his Camaro, he held her hand.

Keira liked the attention, but as they drove down Canal, his hand resting on her knee, she wasn’t sure what that attention meant exactly.

It hadn’t been a perfect date, the constant calls he ignored throughout dinner and as they walked the Quarter had been an annoyance, but Kona smiled at her a lot, held her close to him. He wasn’t perfect, but that’s what she liked about him.

“You wanna go to my place? Grab a beer?”

The streetlight above them was red and in its reflection Kona’s dark eyes looked shadowed. Verve Pipe’s “The Freshman” funneled out of the speakers as he stared at her, eyes low lidded and a clear question moving up his eyebrows. She opened her mouth to answer, something biting working its way up her throat, but the light changed and the asshole behind them laid on his horn.

“I guess that’s a no,” he said, gaze on her as he shifted gears.

They drove down Canal, passing by hotels, restaurant and tourist shops, and Keira had to take a moment, inhale the warm, musky scent of his cologne and the soft leather of the seats before she was able to answer.

“I’m not really interested in being around your friends, Kona.” She’d had enough of the football team at Nathan’s party, and from what she’d already seen of the team house told her that Kona’s "home" wouldn’t exactly be quiet or even remotely sane. She wanted to be with him, not his fans. His hand left her knee and she could feel the annoyance vibrating from his body. It was in the way he straightened his neck, how he leaned away from her. But before she’d let him get angry, Keira grabbed his hand, pulled it back to her knee and he watched her, saw how she laid her fingers on top of his. The tension lessened and a lazy smile pulled at his mouth. “I’m also not really eager to go where so many have been before.”

It was a sting, but one Kona took in stride.

“Fair enough.”

One turn and then another and the CPU campus came into view. Keira loved the entrance to their small university. The huge oaks and magnolia trees that lined the street, the slow moving street car that slid down the median and the massive buildings that looked like something out of the Scottish Highlands and not the center of a huge city, always made Keira wistful, wanting to walk those cobbled sidewalks at sunset just to soak it all in. Kona pulled into her building, the parking lot relatively empty of cars; the green light of the clock told her it was only eleven. Leann wouldn’t be in their room. Saturday nights were for Michael, and Keira knew she probably wouldn’t see her cousin until the next afternoon.

Kona killed the engine but left the battery running and the music changed, pumped Jodeci’s “Feenin’” into the cab. Keira blushed, and stared out her window as the lyrics danced between them. Baby making music always made her smile.

She could feel Kona watching her. His body was so large and as his elbow rested on the console between them, that massive presence palpable, invading her space. There was sensory overload working in that car—the heat of Kona’s body pumping toward her, the smell of his skin, the slow, sensual beat of the baseline in the song—she felt it all like a vibration to her senses and without saying a word, without even touching her, Kona Hale had Keira crossing her legs, hoping that sweet throb in her center would ease.

“Wildcat?” he said, voice tickling right against her neck.

She turned her head, let it rest against the seat and Kona was there, just there, with his lips close enough to touch. All she had to do was lift her chin, take what he was offering.

“Last night, at Nathan’s?” She nodded, letting a slow blink bring back those intense minutes in the hallway. “That…that kind of shit usually doesn’t do it for me. Know what I’m sayin’?”

She knew what he meant. There had been anger and resentment and an overabundance of reaction. She couldn’t explain what that was, what had her lashing out and liking it, but Keira couldn’t deny what it had done to her body.

“That was a first for me too.”

Kona’s head dipped, just once and the long stare he gave her heightened Keira’s already sensitive nerves. He moved in closer, one finger brushing across her forehead and his eyes followed the movement as though he loved the way her hair fell against her skin, how it felt between his knuckles.

“I want to try something.” Those long fingers smoothed down her face until Kona held her cheek in his hand. “I want to see if that was some fluke.”

“You want me to slap you again?” His smile relaxed her, had her shifting her shoulders deeper onto the seat.

“No. I wanna try soft with you. I wanna try sweet, to see if it’s the same, if it does the same thing to me.”

She couldn’t help herself. “What did it do to you, Kona?”

Keira loved the way his eyes shifted up, how a deep, hypnotizing groan vibrated in his throat as though just the thought of his body’s reaction to her had him aching. He moved in, a fraction of a lean, mouth nearly touching hers. “It made me want to go slow.” He kissed her then, just a peck that lingered before he pulled away. “And fast.” Another kiss, this one longer than the last. “It made me think I could only breathe if I was inside you.”

And then, Keira’s own throat vibrated with a groan, a slow working sound that lifted up, caught as Kona’s tongue, warm and deliciously wet, slid against hers. There was so much power, so much tenderness in every touch he gave her; a shuttering throb of sensation, of heat that made Keira lightheaded. He was demanding and for once Keira didn’t let the fear of being controlled scare her. For once, she just gave in and let Kona guide her, work in her something real and raw.

She felt Kona’s breath rising, hot and heavy against her cheek and loved that her fingers on his neck, pulling him deeper, had him moving faster, still slow, still calm, but desperate enough that his breathing became frantic, that his hands on her face, in her hair, shook.

She wanted this. Him. Her. Their touch, the magic in every brush of his fingers, the glide of his tongue, with her always. It was needy, desperate and she loved the white hot craving of him, of how her body reacted to him, how her heart hammered hard like an earthquake.

They kissed and touched—his mouth on her neck sucking, nibbling, her fingers in his hair, her teeth biting his ear—and before Keira even realized what was happening, the windows fogged over, advertising to anyone watching what was happening in that Camaro. And then, a loud bang on the hood and Keira’s eyes opened and Kona’s happy moan turned into a grunt of frustration at whatever jackass it was that had interrupted them as a joke, laughing ringing in their hasty retreat.

Kona sat back, sweat dotting his forehead, and Keira blinked, shot up in the seat and grabbed the door handle.

“Wait.” Kona leaned across the seat covering her hand to stop her from leaving. “Where are you going?”

His frown was almost funny, but the rounding of his eyes told Keira that her leaving that car would undo him. She twisted her wrist so that she could hold his fingers and then brushed that massive hand aside. “I’m going to my room, Kona.” She got out of the car and he sat staring at her, frown deeper, forehead wrinkled with tension. Keira bent down once she was out of the car, leaning forward to smile at him. “You coming or not?”

***

Kona

KONA FELT LIKE A PUNK. And he was, or at least he was acting like one, but Keira did something to him. She made him smile, made him laugh, she had him wanting to take her on dates. And he couldn’t stop touching her. That skin, that taste, the soft little sounds she made when he kissed her, it undid him, had him forgetting that he was just testing the waters, seeing where this thing with Keira would lead him.

Even the curve of her neck as she stood in front of the door to unlock it, had Kona’s chest feeling tight. She barely managed to slip her key in the lock and Kona couldn’t hold himself back. Keira smelled like heaven, all flowery and delicious and her body was a miracle, fine, strong lines, muscle and soft curves and he brushed her hair away to get to that body. Mouth on the smooth planes of neck, lips dragging against each bump, Kona felt her tremble against him.

“In…inside,” she managed, and then the door was open and they were alone.

She kept her back to him, movements slow, silent as she threw her purse and keys onto the bed. She wore dark jeans and a red, fitted shirt with a low back. Kona hadn't been able to stop watching the small expanse of skin that peeked out of that shirt all night. He’d been dying to kiss her neck, her back, since she walked out ahead of him as they left her dorm earlier. Now it called to him, with her standing next to the bed, shoulders stiff and the appealing silhouette of her hour glass shape just feet from him. He couldn’t stop himself from coming behind her, from wrapping his arms around her waist so he was close enough to taste the scent of her on his tongue.

“I love this,” he said, moving her hair again to get to her neck. He pushed down her shirt and she didn’t object. “And this. Your back is sexy, Wildcat.” Keira moved her neck, giving him easy access to all that glorious skin and he felt her tremble again, arms shaking, hand lifting to his hair as he kissed between her shoulder blades.

She made a noise that sounded like a song to Kona; low, sensual groans as his hands moved up her ribs, as his kisses and licks against her back and neck deepened. Her skin became a sheet of goose pimples that Kona tried to smooth down with his tongue and Keira pressed against him, groans elevating into sounds that were higher, sounds that told Kona she liked how he touched her. And when he couldn’t control his hands, when they came up to cup her breasts, those sounds Keira made were like a symphony; glorious, intoxicating music that made Kona brush his thumbs against her nipples, made him pinch down on them until she was gasping, until she moved her ass against his hard dick.

“Kona…God…” She turned, arms sliding around his neck and Keira kissed him, frantic, eager, tongue immediately separating his lips, then working against his. “Make me buzz,” she said, between kisses, “make my whole body buzz.”

And Kona realized, in that moment, with Keira’s sweet body and provocative scent making him high, making him so drunk on her, that he would do anything she asked. He’d make her skin sing, just to have her touch him the way she was then, just to hear the happy moan shooting out of her mouth like a melody.

Instinct took over and he picked her up, hands on her ass, directing her legs around him. “I’ll make you buzz, Wildcat.”

Her purse and keys fell to the floor when he laid her on the bed, their hips pushing against each other. Kona knew what she wanted, what she needed. He’d experienced enough moments like this in the three years since he’d been fucking anything that would have him. Senior year of high school had been amazing. Freshman semester had made him an expert. This sophomore semester and all of this was old hat. So he knew how to touch a girl to make those moans come quick and easy. He knew where to kiss, how fast to move his fingers, his tongue, so that a girl called his name like a chant.

Kona had moves, practiced, tested moves, and he meant to use them just then. He meant to kiss Keira’s neck, slide his hands in her hair as he attacked behind her ear, down to the slope of her shoulder. Then, he meant to get her out of her clothes, move her knees apart, and slip inside her. Those were Kona’s moves. Usually. That’s what he’d figured out worked best when the girl he was with was anxious, eager to get there.

But Keira Riley was not most girls. Keira was blunt and wild and angry. Keira was beautiful and smart and funny. Keira had crawled into Kona’s brain, separated herself from the memory of everyone he’d ever touched until she became the bright, shining spot among the faceless masses. He could not touch Keira like he had every other girl. She was special.

When she moved her knees in, pulling him closer to her and Kona could feel that sweet, hot warmth rubbing against his dick, he jerked back, wanting to slow down, wanting every touch to be different, to be just for her. He needed to feel her, needed her beautiful blue eyes looking at him, seeing him when he touched her. This was too fast. This was too practiced and with Keira, Kona didn’t want speed and quick release. He wanted all of her.

Damnit. How had that happened?

“Wait,” he said, taking her arms away from his shoulders before he sat up. “Hang on.”

Keira followed him, lips on his neck, fingers tugging his hair. “What’s wrong?” she said between bites to his ear.

“We have to stop.”

“What?” She slid back, resting against the headboard. “Why?”

Kona didn’t know how to explain himself. How do you tell a woman who clearly wants you, who you clearly want, that you want to take your time with her? That you don’t want the moment over too quickly? Eyes shifting to her face, Kona felt like Keira had sucker punched him. That expression transformed instantly, working from confusion to anger before he could blink twice.

“We need to slow down.”

Kona wished he could read her mind. Most of the time, he didn’t need to; whatever Keira was thinking was typically written on her face in the way her big eyes narrowed to small slits or how those full lips pinched tight like a corkscrew. But, Kona had noticed in the past few weeks that Keira had learned to guard her expressions around him. She’d learned how to hold back and hide at least some of what she was thinking. He didn’t like it and he especially didn’t like the frown she gave him then, how she pulled her knees to her chest like she was trying to keep him away from her.

“I get it.” Kona thought she really didn’t. That frown on her face hardened, dipped so that there were barely noticeable lines around the corners of her mouth. “It’s fine.” He reached for her when she left the bed, but Keira was fast, slight and she moved quickly to the door. “I’ll see you later,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

She kept her gaze down, the expression on her face telling him she was either mad or embarrassed, but he still came in front of her, shoulder against the door. When he reached for her face, Keira lurched back as though she couldn’t stand his touch.

“You really don’t get it, Wildcat.”

“Don’t call me that.” He knew she was angry. She only told him not to call her Wildcat when she was angry or annoyed. He tried again and this time she let him touch her face, though she closed her eyes, hiding from him.

“Keira, look at me.” Hand shifted to the back of her neck, he pulled her toward him. “What’s wrong?”

When she answered him, lids blinking and barely glancing at him, Kona wanted to punch something. “I don’t do it for you. I get it.” Finally, she looked at him fully. “I know I’m not like the girls you’re usually with. I’m not Tony—”

“Shut up.” He shifted, moved fast to trap her against the door, forced her chin up so she would look at him. “No. You’re not like them. You’re nothing like them. You’re so much more.”

“But you stopped touching me.”

Her voice was so small then and on any other girl, the tone might sound whiney and weak. But Keira was neither, and in her expression Kona saw real confusion, real hurt. That look gutted him, had the anger in his chest cooling.

“I want you.” When she laughed, a defeated, pathetic sound, Kona’s irritation bubbled. “I want you so much, Wildcat.” He grabbed her hand, brushed it over his still hard and aching dick.

She pulled her hand away and tried to push against his chest. “You’re twenty, Kona. You’d get hard with the right breeze on a windy day.” When she elbowed him, pushing his chest with her arm, Kona grabbed her, picked her up again before he shoved her on the bed. “Get off me.” Keira’s twisting body, flailing limbs and arms were weak, a halfhearted defense and Kona knew she didn’t want him going anywhere.

“Stop it,” he said, catching her chin when she twisted her head away from him. “Just stop.” He attacked her mouth, pouring into that kiss all the scattered things fighting for control in his mind. Lust, desire, compassion, tenderness; Kona wanted to give them all to Keira. He leaned back and Keira was breathless. He loved her like that. “Fucking is too easy and I remember you said you don’t want easy.” She fought a smile and the tension in her body eased. “I’m trying to give you what you want, Wildcat.”

She rolled her eyes, but Kona knew she wasn’t angry anymore. “I get CPU’s whormeister in my bed and he just wants to kiss me.”

Exhaling, Kona rolled onto his side, pulling Keira toward him. “I could fuck you and it would be good.”

Keira punched his shoulder. “Thanks. Nice having that salt just flooding into my wound.”

“I’m saying, Wildcat. You don’t want good. You want great. Fucking is easy. Fucking is expected and I do want you.” He pulled her even closer, directing her leg over his. “I want you so much that this screaming voice in my head is telling me to shut the hell up and get you naked. But you’re better than this. You’re better than any of this and when I have you, when I have all of you, Wildcat, it won’t be easy and fast.” Kona kissed her forehead and Keira looked up at him. “When I have you, it’ll be slow and long and it will leave you panting.”

She took his kiss gladly, responding to his tongue and his hand flat against her ass with another soft moan. “This is going to be hard,” she said, scooting back from him. Kona released an unrestrained snort and Keira shook her head, laughing. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Why?” He liked how she felt against him. Liked that her small body fit perfectly underneath his. “I said I wanted to slow down. I didn’t say I’d leave you hanging.”

“What do you mean?”

That first night in her dorm, Kona had guessed that Keira wasn’t used to being around men. She’d been nearly shirtless and scared. She’d responded to his hands on her back, to how close he sat next to her, but she’d also been rigid, nervous. He’d assumed it was because she didn’t know what to do with the sensations working in her body. He’d assumed it was because she’d never been in that situation before. But the night they watched Les Mis, she told him she wasn’t the innocent little creature he thought she was. So why wasn’t she catching his meaning now? Did she lie to him just to throw him off? Kona didn’t think that was Keira’s way.

He leaned on his elbow then, wanting to see her expression, wanting to see if she got all nervous and fidgety like she usually did when she was trying to mess with his head. “You’re really not a virgin? If you weren’t then I’d figure you’d catch my meaning.”

She frowned at him and one eyebrow came up in a challenge. “I’m not a virgin. I’m not as active as you, but I’m not a virgin.”

“What’s your number?” When Keira sighed, he pulled her closer to him, hand gripping her ass. “Come on, I’ll tell you mine.”

“No thanks.” Her body took on a small shudder as though the thought of how many girls Kona had been with was a scary, disgusting thing. “I don’t think I want my head to explode.”

He knew he had a reputation. He knew Keira had been informed about that reputation, but it didn’t annoy him that she thought he was a slut. He knew who he was. Still, if he ever wanted a shot at being with her, Kona knew he’d have to be honest. “I’m clean, smartass. We get tested for the university’s insurance and I’ve never been with anyone without a condom. Ever.” The idea of anyone touching her bothered Kona more than he wanted to admit to himself, but he had to know. He figured it wouldn’t come close to matching his number, but he still had to know. “Come on, tell me.”

“One.”

Kona thought he’d heard her right, but wasn’t sure. She said the word so quietly that he had to move his head to hear her better. “What?”

Keira sighed again and her breath warmed against Kona’s cheek. “Diego Medina. Last fall.”

“Last fall?” Kona did the calculations in his head, figuring that less than a few tumbles almost a year ago would explain some of Keira’s stiffness when he was near her. The thought didn’t make him feel good.

“Yeah. I was feeling rebellious. Leann’s boyfriend Michael and Diego are cousins. They got arrested for stealing money out of the poor box at St. Anthony’s our senior year.” She shrugged, waved her hand like that small detail wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “My mom doesn’t like Leann and she hates Michael. I wanted to annoy her and I thought dating a Cuban boy with a record would annoy her the most. So when she told me I couldn’t hang out with Leann or her boyfriend, I snuck out and we drove to Atlanta to see Phish.” Keira’s voice was steady, but she took Kona’s fingers in her hands, rubbing over his knuckles as though she needed a distraction as she spoke.

“Diego took my virginity in the backseat of Michael’s Durango while Phish played “Free” a couple thousand feet away.”

“What did your mom do when you got back?”

“She didn’t even know I was gone. The Steamers had a bye week that weekend and she and Steven got tickets to a charity auction with the head coach. I got home before they did.”

“And what happened with the Diego kid? Why’d you stop seeing him?”

“He got arrested for a B&E in Zachary. He was eighteen by then so he went to Dixon Correctional. As far as I know, he’s still there.”

Kona considered the information, watching Keira’s expression to see if it was sad, to see if her being with that Diego kid was what made her frown the way she did. He didn’t think it was him that had her eyes shining.

“And that was the one time?”

She didn’t answer him immediately and she brought up her knees, laying Kona’s hand on her thigh as she traced the lines on his palm. “No. He got me drunk two weeks before he went in.” She smiled then, glancing to him once before she raked her fingers over his palm. “I slept with him, but afterward he tried to get me to have a threesome with him and some girl called Dena. She had an incredibly huge ass. I ran out of there quick as I could after Dena kissed me.” Her glance returned and Kona wondered why her smile was wider then, as though she remembered a detail he knew she wouldn’t share with him. “That was the last time. He gave me a hickey. A gross purple thing and I made sure my mom saw it. I was still pissed she didn’t notice me sneaking off to Atlanta.”

“What did she do?”

Keira’s eyes came up, rolling and she stopped messing with his hand. He didn’t like her not touching him. He didn’t like that just recalling her mother’s reaction to her small rebellion had Keira crossing her arms. “Told me it was tacky and then brought me to the doctor for an HIV test and birth control pills and then said we’d ‘never speak of it again.’”

Kona’s laugh seemed to calm her and she let him pull her leg over him again. “So you didn’t do the threesome?”

“That’s all you heard in my little story? Me and Dena the big butt girl?”

A quick flash in his head made Kona’s imagination active and greedy. He slid down closer to Keira, nibbling against her collarbone. “She kissed you. That’s hot, Wildcat.”

“God, you’re such a boy and it wasn’t hot,” she said, pushing him away. She wasn’t angry, the wide stretch of her lips told him that much. “She used too much tongue.”

Kona released a moan as a particularly vivid image of Keira kissing some faceless girl jumped into his mind, but it disappeared when she gave him another shove on his shoulder. He was hard again and wanted so badly to feel her, taste her. He knew it would be a challenge not to take her, but he enjoyed their banter and how comfortable Keira seemed with him then, how easy it had been to calm the heated moments of a few minutes before so that he hadn’t let things get out of hand. Another kiss on her collarbone and Kona moved his mouth up her neck, then to her earlobe. He wanted to hear that sweet moan again and he got his wish when Keira’s quiet laughter transformed into a satisfied sigh.

“I only asked because you didn’t catch my meaning.” She frowned as though she’d forgotten how this whole conversation started. “About leaving you hanging.”

The smile she gave him was wicked, pulled so wide that he could almost see her back teeth. Kona loved that smile. It promised filthy things.

“How do you want to not leave me hanging?”

“Did the hickey monster touch you, Wildcat? Really touch you?” Her smile grew lethal then and when Keira shook her head, telling Kona with one small movement that she hadn’t been touched by Diego like she deserved, his chest constricted, felt tight with excitement. Keira went back against the pillow without a fight when Kona leaned over her, pressed his full weight on top of her and that wicked, beautiful smile stayed frozen on her face. “He didn’t play with you?” He pushed her shirt up, with a glance to her face, and loved the slow close of her eyelids when his mouth came down on her stomach.

“Not…not like that.”

A small dip of his tongue in her bellybutton and Keira moved her hips, jutting against him. Kona decided that was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She didn’t stop him when he popped open her button, when he tugged down her jeans until only the thin, black panties she wore were visible. Her stomach was flat, firm and Kona licked across each ridge of her muscles, growing harder the more skin he kissed.

“Then he was a dumbass.” Two strips of lace on her hipbones, fabric that barely covered her, had Kona itching to snap them with his teeth. He rubbed his nose inside her thigh, nibbled up her leg until one of those black strips were in between his teeth. He pulled the lace down, getting a glimpse of fine, carefully trimmed hair and then Kona slipped both hands under her ass, growling between breaths when he realized she was wearing a thong. “Can I play with you, Wildcat?” He moved her forward, his mouth returning to the inside of her thigh and Kona inhaled. “I really wanna play with you.”

Keira released a small groan and then, her fingers were in his hair gripping, lowering his head. “Show me how much, Kona.”

Awkward Keira did not exist in that dorm room. Kona thought faintly that he didn’t recognize this girl, he might have said that he’d never seen her, but that would have been a lie. He caught a glimpse of her that night in Nathan’s hallway when Kona wasn’t sure if she wanted to kill him or fuck him. At the time, he would have taken either and then, on her bed, with Keira pushing his head between those firm, fine thighs, he thought he might just die. It would be a happy death and he’d meet the Reaper with a smile and the memory of Keira’s heady scent and sinister, wicked grin in his mind.

Another growl, Kona wasn’t sure who made the sound, and he slipped her jeans off completely, then those thin, barely there panties flew over his shoulder and he saw his favorite thing ever in life. Kona rubbed his fingers over her skin, loving how that soft, pink flesh was wet, glistening. His gaze took in the smooth outer lips, the delicious warmth of her folds as he touched her, worked his fingers against her clit. “I won’t fuck you, Wildcat, not yet, but I’m sure as hell going to devour you.” She was beautiful and perfect and Kona’s hands shook, his heart hammered hard against his ribs as he lowered over her and took that tempting clit into his mouth.

He had to still her hips, they moved with him as though Keira was reaching for something, as if her body moved on its own, toward a slip of release she couldn’t find. Kona helped her along, slipped two fingers inside her, easily finding that sweet spot and he smiled against her when he felt how tight she was, how wet and warm she was on his tongue.

Next to him, Keira’s legs shook, Kona felt the quick tremble and he used his free hand to move her leg over his shoulder. “Relax. I’ve got you.” She listened, lifted her right leg to match her left and Kona loved how open she was to him, how much she trusted him with her body. Keira’s heels digging into his back, Kona kept moving, urged forward by her scent, by the low murmurs she made, how she arched into his mouth the deeper his fingers went.

He felt the ridges of the knot a few inches inside her and bent his fingers, moved his hand around so that his knuckles rubbed against that soft nub. She tasted heady and thick and wonderful and the faster his fingers worked, that sweet spot swelled and Kona loved the feel of it, the taste of her body as he worked his knuckles faster and then, his tongue on her clit, Keira’s hips came off the mattress and he had to chase her, had to concentrate on that spot as she clamped around his fingers, as she screamed his name over and over and he lapped up the small rush that flooded against his tongue.

But it was her face that caught his attention. It was that open, free expression that had his chest feeling tight again, feeling as if his heart was trying to pound right out of his skin. Keira’s smile was blinding, real, and Kona thought, no matter how long he lived, he’d never see anything as beautiful, nothing nearly as uninhibited. It was then Kona realized that Keira had him. He might not want to admit it to her, he might not be ready to speak the words, but Keira Riley had him completely.

“What…what the hell was that?” Kona tried not to laugh at her expression, at the little streak of fear that moved across her face. He crawled beside her, uncaring that his shirt was wet, not bothered that he was still aching against his ever-tightening jeans.

“First time that happened?” He was fascinated by the pink spots coloring her cheeks.

“Well yeah, but that was…oh God!” Keira covered her face, let her arms shield her from his attentions. He tried pulling them back, wanting to keep staring at those pink cheeks, but Keira was embarrassed, refusing to let him uncover her face. “Oh God, that was gross.”

“It wasn’t gross, Wildcat. It was amazing.”

Slowly, Keira lowered her arms, but she kept her hands over her mouth. “You…you aren’t disgusted?”

He didn’t hold back his laugh and couldn’t help pulling her against his chest. “Fuck no. Why would I be?” Keira stared at him like he was crazy, like what he’d just done to her was the height of depravity, but he wouldn’t let her retreat. That flush still covered her face and though he loved it, though it made her even more beautiful, he couldn’t let her think she should feel ashamed. “Don’t ever be embarrassed by your body’s reaction to me.” He pulled up her chin to get at her mouth. “You’re beautiful when you come, Wildcat. You’re beautiful all the time, but especially when you come for me.”

That seemed to satisfy her. Keira gave Kona a smile, it was weak, and she still looked flushed, a bit disheveled, but she didn’t avert her eyes or act like she was horrified. She leaned up to kiss him and Kona wrapped his arms around her, let her lead, loving how fiercely she kissed him. But then she brushed against his shirt and jerked back, looking down at the wet spots over his collar and on his chest.

“I, um, got you wet.”

“Ditto.”

Another quick blush and Keira shook her head. “Let me get you a shirt,” she said, moving from the bed. She didn’t cover up, seemed bold and proud to walk around in front of him in nothing but her bra that hung off one shoulder. Kona licked his lips, reminding himself to get her completely naked next time.

“I doubt you have anything big enough for me, Wildcat.”

She bent over, digging through the dresser on Leann’s side of the room and Kona sat up, watched the way she moved, loved the smooth contours of her legs, the round, supple curve of her ass and hips. Seeing her like that only made the raging ache in his jeans bite against his waistband.

Keira turned toward him with a gray t-shirt in her hand and she tossed it to him, offering him a shy smile when his gaze moved up her body. “It’s Michael’s. He left it here awhile back. It was about three sizes too big for him so Leann sleeps in it sometimes.” Kona didn’t move while Keira went to her dresser and slipped on a pair of thin boxers and a white tank top. “It’ll fit,” she said, walking back to the bed.

Disappointed that she was covered up, Kona sighed, then moved off the bed to unbutton his shirt. But as each button came undone, Keira stepped closer until she stood in front of him with her eyes wide and searching. Her hands were balled up into fists at her side and Kona smiled, loving how he could see what she wanted on her face, confused that she didn’t touch him.

“Wildcat,” he said, forgetting about taking off his shirt. She lifted her eyebrows, distracted, but didn’t move her gaze from his chest. “You like this?” Kona pulled off his shirt one shoulder at a time and bit down on his bottom lip when Keira’s eyes grew even wider. He took her wrist, pulling her toward him and directed her fingers onto his chest. “You can touch me.” She took a step, still staring at him like she’d never seen anything like him before. “Anything I have, you can take.”

“Can I…” she moved in closer and Kona thought he’d explode from the tentative touches she made against his chest, how her nails tickled his nipple. Her other hand came around his waist, thumb rubbing his side before she moved her fingers over his abdomen. “Can I kiss you…here?” Keira placed an open-mouth kiss on his pec and Kona’s fingers when straight into her hair.

It took everything in him not to groan at the hot slide of her tongue on his nipple. “You can touch me anywhere, Wildcat. Any fucking where you want. Oh…shit.”

And Kona let her explore his body, tried to hold some semblance of control when Keira’s mouth went over his chest, when her nails slid up his back. One hand on his spine, the other flicking his nipple and Kona felt staggered, weighted down by how good, how eager she was, like she couldn’t get enough of him.

Keira looked up at him and those big, blue eyes told him so much. They told him how badly she wanted him, how she couldn’t do without the taste and feel of him. “Kona, you’re almost too much. Almost too perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Keira.” He moved her head, angled her face closer to him. “Just blessed with good Hawaiian genes.” He liked her smile, liked how it lit up her entire face. And then Kona’s humor vanished as he looked at her, as she moved closer, that beautiful mouth so close and tempting. Her eyes were softer, but burned with something Kona recognized, something that blazed. “Keep looking at me like that, Wildcat and I’ll forget about going slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” Keira kissed his neck, nibbled up his throat until she pulled his ear between her teeth. “I just want you.”

He lifted her up, legs back where they belonged around his waist, his hands on the sweet swell of her ass and Kona kissed her hard, forgetting for a moment that she was too good for quick, forgetting that she didn’t want easy, that he needed to set the pace. Her mouth on his, those plump, high tits smashed against his bare chest had him forfeiting anything he’d told her about being calm. He was going to take her. The bed was right there, just next to him and he even managed to sit on it, with her still wrapped around him. Kona tried to remember how many condoms he had in his wallet, how he had to be gentle with her and then, the door flew open and Leann’s loud shout of “oh shit” stopped all thought.

“Leann,” Keira said, extracting herself from Kona’s lap.

“I’m sorry. I…shit, I didn’t think…” the girl turned around, moving quickly to her side of the room to dig through her closet. Keira followed her and Kona used the interruption to finally put on that gray t-shirt. He heard their low whispers, little reprimands that Leann made to Keira that had Kona’s temper flaring.

“What exactly did I interrupt?” he heard Leann whisper. He couldn’t hear what Keira said, her voice was lower, calmer, but Kona did see how quickly Keira’s demeanor changed, how she let whatever Leann said to her transform her.

Finally, tired of the bickering, Kona faced them. “I didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The two girls stopped arguing, both quickly directing their attention to Kona. He hated that Keira wouldn’t look at him, that she curled her arms over her chest like she was hiding again. “And, if I’m being honest, Leann, it’s really none of your business what we were doing.”

“Look, Kona, my cousin is…”

“Your cousin is an adult and fully capable of making her own decisions,” Keira interrupted. Kona was impressed. Keira dropped her arms to her side and she glared at Leann with her eyes shining. “You got what you need, right?” Keira nodded toward the bag in Leann’s hand and her cousin nodded once. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow after you get back from rehearsal.”

“Keira…”

She stopped whatever Leann was going to say by moving across the room to open the door. “Night, Leann.”

Leann looked once at Kona as though he would back her up, but he only offered her a smirk and then a dismissive jerk of his head and the girl left the room.

“Sorry about that,” Keira said, closing the door behind her.

That look was still in Keira’s eyes, the one that told Kona she wanted to forget Leann had stopped them. But the mood had shifted and Kona didn’t know if that interruption had really been a bad thing. Keira still looked so open, so willing to give in. A flash of Leann’s shocked expression came back to him then. It was familiar, something Kona had seen too often when he’d convinced some girl to go home with him. Their friends, the people who cared about them, always had the same look on their faces.

“She’s just worried you’re making bad choices.”

Keira considered him for a moment, moving in front of him with those arms back around her waist. She wasn’t guarding herself, but she didn’t seem like she wanted to touch him either. “Am I?”

He rubbed his face, trying to clear away the mild guilt he felt. He’d almost let things slip out of control. Again. “I don’t know.” Keira should know what she was getting with him. Kona had no idea where things were heading. He knew he liked her. He knew with very little effort, Keira could have him completely under her spell. He was close to that now and this was only their first date. “I’m not a saint. I’m nowhere close to being good enough for you.”

Keira’s arms fell to her side and she stepped into Kona’s space. That sweet scent on her skin was musky now, still tempting, still intoxicating. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”

He liked how bold she was, how that awkward girl who threatened him in class was gone. Weeks with Kona, with him pushing her buttons, with him insinuating himself in her life had changed Keira and he liked the fire that she held in her belly. It drew him to her, made him helpless. Kona took her face between his hands and gave her a kiss, brief but lingering. If he kept at it, he knew he wouldn’t ever be able to walk away from her.

“It’s late. It’s probably a good idea for me to jet.” Kona had to bite his bottom lip to keep from smiling at Keira’s expression. “You don’t want me to go?”

“I wouldn’t hate it if you stayed.”

Kona tried to ignore the double beat of his heart. “That’s tempting, Wildcat, but if I stayed I couldn’t promise you’d avoid those bad decisions.”

“Kona, I get the feeling you might end up being my favorite mistake.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

KEIRA

SHE COULDN’T KEEP the smile off her face. It had been like that for nearly two weeks and the smile Keira wore that day as she left Kenner Hall, her arms loaded down with folders and notes for her Arthurian Studies presentation, had little to do with how she and Kona kicked ass. It was him. He put that smile on her face every day since they’d been “hanging out.” It was a stupid phrase, one that flew out of her mouth anytime Leann badgered her about what was going on between her and Kona, but it stuck and that was the only definition Keira would allow herself.

Hanging out with Kona Hale meant a lot of late nights, a lot of slapping his hand off her ass or shoving that imposing chest with her elbow because he wouldn’t focus on their presentation. They ate lunch together in the cafeteria, away from Leann, away from Kona’s football friends, ignoring the quick stares they drew. They worked in the library after practice, sweaty and stinky. Kona never failed to follow her down a dark stack of books, trying to kiss her, trying to get her to touch him despite how dirty and worn out they both were. He was insatiable and Keira couldn’t help herself, she loved the attention. But, yes, they were only hanging out.

Movie dates and parking for hours, nearly naked in his Camaro still qualified as hanging out, right?

She was nearly to the door, trying to hurry to Kona’s car to dump off all her stuff before they had a celebration lunch for landing an A on their presentation, when someone moved to stand in front of her. Someone female, someone tall and too thin. Someone with bleached blonde hair. Someone Keira had seen slithering out of Kona’s bedroom weeks ago.

“I just wanted to let you know, he’s going to get bored of you.” Tonya Lucas pulled the smile right off Keira’s face. She’d spent every class period since that day at the team house glaring at Keira or making snide comments anytime Keira and Kona sat together to work in class on their presentation. Kona told Keira to ignore her, that Tonya was a common, jealous bitch, but today it seemed the girl wanted to level up her insults.

“I really don’t need you in my business.” Keira stepped to the side, trying to go around her and leave out the door, but Tonya slipped back in front of her, blocking her escape. Outside, Keira could see Kona sitting on the hood of his Camaro, glancing toward the building as he waited for her. She'd barely managed to get him to deposit her player and the DVDs they used for the presentation. She’d wanted to hang back and pester Miller about their grade.

“Hey, look, it’s not my problem.” The tight smirk on Tonya's face made her look bitter. “I just think you should know that he’s playing with you. Kona Hale only does hook ups. Everyone knows that, so if you’re thinking that he’s going to stick around, you’re stupid.”

Keira dropped her bag, let the folders in her hand hit the tile floor. “I’m not stupid, Tonya and I don’t need a warning.” She took a step, making the girl retreat. “Why don’t you get out of my way?”

Tonya backed up, and Keira followed until they were away from the door and near the girls’ bathroom. Keira was taller than her, she had at least fifteen pounds on her and Tonya seemed to notice it, her eyes shifting down at Keira’s clenched fists. There was nothing to her, no substance, no natural beauty. She looked like every other girl on campus that tried too hard. Keira shouldn’t have let her bother her. She shouldn’t have let her get under her skin, but there was a small voice whispering in the back of her mind; the same one that told Keira that Kona had been loose and easy with his dick. He might touch her, he might kiss her like a man possessed, but Keira wasn’t the first. She probably wouldn’t be the last and as she glared at Tonya, as she backed her further away from the door, a quick memory of her pulling down her skirt, leaving Kona’s bedroom, flashed forward.

Kona had slept with Tonya a few days after the hospital; after she’d spent hours with him while he waited on news of his grandfather. They’d shared a few moments, looks that promised something was kindling between them. Then, Tonya Lucas followed him home.

She’d tried to let it go, tried not to mention it to him the past few weeks, but with Tonya standing in front of her, telling Keira she was kidding herself if she thought Kona would ever be serious about her, brought back the anger, the hurt, she pretended she never felt.

“I’m just trying to give you a head’s up. He has a habit of using girls.”

“Girls like you, you mean?”

“Whatever.” Tonya deflected the insult, brushed her brittle hair off her shoulder like being used hadn’t bothered her. “Just know he isn’t serious about you. It’s Kona. He isn’t serious about anything but partying.”

“Like I said, I don’t need a warning.” Keira had heard enough. Tonya Lucas was easy, stupid, and her opinion didn’t matter. Keira turned away from her, headed back to her discarded bag and folders, and she threw a quick glance out of the glass door, frowning when she noticed Kona was no longer waiting for her at his car.

“You think you’re special or something?” Tonya called across the lobby and Keira shook her head at how jealous and hostile she sounded. Her papers and notes had slipped all over the floor when she dropped them and Keira scrambled around to retrieve her stuff before Tonya could make a scene. “Bet he kissed you behind the ear, right?” she said, heels clicking against the tile as she approached. “Told you how sexy your neck was?” Keira frowned, unable to make the muscle in her mouth relax when she recognized the familiar things Kona had said and done to her that night in her room. Some hint of acknowledgment must have been on her face because when Keira looked up at Tonya, the blonde’s smile was triumphant.

She knelt down, making a show of helping Keira with her papers. “Yeah. That’s his thing. I bet he even told you that you can take whatever he has, right?” Keira jerked a sheet of paper out of Tonya’s hand when she offered it. “I know that look, Keira. It’s the same one I had when Amber Thomas told me about Kona. He’s a whore and he only cares about getting off.” Tonya abandoned her quasi help and stood away from Keira, smoothing down her jeans. Keira was no longer angry, could only identify what she felt as defeat with a great swell of humiliation. He’d played her. Kona had totally played her and she felt like an idiot.

“Kona only wants to fuck you. He’s not the relationship type.”

Every word that stupid bitch spoke was like a jab against Keira’s chest and for the first time in months, it wasn’t Kona stoking the flame of her temper. Oh, she knew it was his fault, all of this could be laid at Kona’s feet, but as Tonya spoke, as that ever-growing smile distorted her slight pleasure to selfish elation, Keira’s anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She’d deluded herself into thinking Kona liked her, that he’d changed, that he’d actually felt real guilt over sleeping with that tart.

“Besides,” Tonya continued, “he’s got his eyes on the NFL and, honey, no guy heading for a pro career is interested in settling down with his college hookup. Do yourself a favor and dump him now.”

“You need to shut your mouth.” Kona’s voice was low, a subtle warning that Tonya didn’t seem to understand. She should have cowered, should have at least stepped away from Kona as he approached. She should have noticed that his anger simmered behind the hard glare that made his black eyes glisten. The girl was too stupid to do anything but smile at him. Keira saw that confident grin of hers falter the longer she looked at Kona.

“Don’t get pissed at me for telling her the truth. Everyone knows how you are, Kona.” She shrugged, as though poking the bull with the iron rod of her insult wasn’t dangerous, wasn’t anything other than simple fact. “I’m just giving Keira here a little friendly advice.”

“You’re running your mouth and it’s pissing me off.” Kona stepped forward, shoulders tight, forehead hard with tension. “You really don’t want to piss me off.” Tonya’s smile wavered as Kona’s frown grew and she shot a glance at Keira as if she couldn’t believe Kona was remotely interested in her. “Stay away from her,” he said. “Don’t even look at her.”

“I can fight my own battles, thanks.” Keira said, ignoring Kona as she stood in front of him. “We’re just hanging out. He isn’t mine so your warning is pointless. But he’s right, the mouth running isn’t necessary and you need to walk away.”

It took three quick backward steps before Tonya darted around and left them. Keira didn’t know if that quick slap of anger in his features had softened. She didn’t bother looking at him or even acknowledging his presence until she went to her knees, trying to gather the few sheets of her notes still on the floor. Kona reached for several, but she grabbed them before he could even stretch his fingers and Keira ignored his low, frustrated grunts. “I got it,” she said, when Kona snagged two sheets to her left. He reached for her folder, and she moved quick, taking it away from him. “I said I got it.”

“Are we fighting?” Eyes on her face, sliding to his haunches as Keira ignored him, Kona stood, and in a quick glance, Keira noticed him rubbing his fingers against the back of his neck. “Is that what this is? You’re gonna let some stupid bitch mess with your head?”

Her composure crumbled and Keira got to her feet, stuffing her notes and folders into her already full back pack. “The same stupid bitch you fucked? No, not her, Kona, she’s not the one messing with my head.” She wouldn’t let his open mouth, his guilty grimace stop her. Keira threw her bag over her shoulder, knowing he was right behind her, not caring that classes had let out and the lobby filled with a crowd. They waited side by side for the throng in front of the door to thin, but Keira’s temper was at high tide, waving anger and rage inside her chest. “It’s the same line of bullshit Tonya said you fed her and every other girl you’ve been with that’s messing with my head. You said the same thing to me like I was one of your whores, Kona.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Wild—” Keira jerked her head up and her piercing glare stopped Kona from calling her that stupid nickname. “I didn’t mean that, I swear.” He tried taking her heavy bag and Keira, seething and feeling stupid, shoved him back. Kona let her, seemed so shocked by her anger that he moved away from her. Around them people were staring, a small circle of eyes and ears eating up the drama like it was chocolate. Kona reached for her bag again and Keira twisted out of his grasp, coming close to falling from the weight before Kona steadied her.

“Get off me, asshole. Now!” Keira’s voiced carried, lifted up into the high ceiling, up to the second floor balcony where Kona’s mother was walking toward her office. Kona twisted his neck, watching his oblivious mother as she stopped to speak to one of the Art History professors. Another grunt and Kona snapped his gaze to Keira before he grabbed her bag from her and pulled Keira by the arm, shouldering his way through the crowd that stepped back from his looming stature and simmering frown, ignoring Keira’s feeble attempts to jerk out of his grip.

He had a tight grip on her elbow that pinched and twisted and before they reached his car, Keira dug in her feet, yanking back. “Let me go, you gorilla.” Kona stopped, turned toward her as though he might pull her against him and Keira saw red and stomped on his foot.

He dropped her bag, wincing against the pain in his foot. “Keira, calm the hell down.” She didn’t want him controlling her, demanding that she stop acting like a brat. All Keira wanted was space from him, distance that would leave Kona miles behind her. Her bag was in her hand and over her shoulder before Kona realized what she was doing and she headed down the sidewalk, thinking of nothing but a hot shower to lessen her chill and the disgusting gorilla darting after her.

Kona caught up to her easily, a few strides and his long legs had him in front of her, holding up his hands. “You’re not walking away like a coward.” Keira darted to the left, but Kona followed and easily lifted her over his shoulder. “We’re going to finish this shit, Wildcat.”

“Put me down you freaking prick! Right the hell now!”

The crowd had followed them out of the lobby, had descended on Kona’s Camaro, but Keira was too angry to be embarrassed. Her blood boiled, resentment cresting until it vibrated into her hands, until that rage had her pounding her fists against Kona’s back.

He kept walking, waving random gawkers away from his car and before Keira realized what was happening, Kona had her in the passenger’s seat and buckled. She breathed, hard exhales she knew wouldn’t calm her and she unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door and was ready to run, but Kona slammed his door and threw her heavy bag onto her lap before he reached over her and jerked her door closed.

Kona sped out of the parking lot and down the street before Keira could attempt another escape. He ignored the speed limit, didn’t seem to care that he slipped through one speed trap after another.

“Let me out.” Keira braced herself against the door when Kona turned sharp, tires squealing. “Let me out of the car right now.”

“I’m not yours?” She glanced at him, but didn’t quite meet his eyes, her attention was too focused on his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel and the jerks he made against the gear shift. “That’s what you think?”

Kona left campus proper and took three side streets through the city, heading toward the interstate and away from New Orleans, still speeding, still seemingly careless that the ramps were curved and steep, that traffic was thickening.

“Slow down, Kona.” He took an exit, flew past it too quickly for Keira to notice where he was going and didn’t pump his brakes once as they soared through four green lights. Keira’s heart pounded, her fingers hurt from the hold she kept on the small space between the door and window and her temper cooled, replaced by quickly rising fear. She didn’t want to die in the middle of nowhere because Kona decided driving like a maniac was the only way to get Keira to finish their fight. “I’m serious. Slow. Down.”

“Hanging out? What the hell does that even mean?” He punched the dashboard, rattling the stereo beneath it.

“Kona, stop the car! Stop!”

Her shout distracted him, had him taking his eyes off the road to stare at her and the median to their right came up too fast. Kona tried to right the wheels, tried swerving back onto the road, but he acted too slowly, reaction dulled by diversion and the Camaro shifted hard, then Keira’s head slammed against the window.

“Oh my God.” Kona reached for her, keeping barely a finger on the steering wheel. “Oh God. Keira…baby…”

Dazed, with a swift throb pounding next to her temple, Keira shook her head, trying to get her dizzy, unfocused vision to clear. Her tears came quick and she didn’t know if it was the slap of pain that had her weepy or the bright spark of anger that made her eyes wet.

Traffic moved around them as Kona pulled off the median and down a side street, and the horns sounding around them only made Keira’s head throb harder. She touched her head, grateful no blood darkened her fingertips.

There was a click of Kona’s seatbelt unfastening and then he was around the car, opening Keira’s door. “Let me see,” he said, pulling on her knees so that she faced him.

“Quit it. Just don’t touch me.” She didn’t want his comfort or concern. She wanted his guilt, wanted him to feel like the asshole he was.

Keira’s immediate thought was to get out of the car and as far away from Kona as she could manage. She had no idea where they were; New Orleans was a second home, a place she’d only just started to get familiar with, but she guessed she could find a cab, maybe get Leann to pick her up if she figured out which exit they’d taken.

“You can’t leave.” His voice was low, cautious and when Keira pushed him out of her way in her weak attempt to leave the car, it became desperate. “I have to take you to the hospital.”

“Leann can take me.” She managed two steps before dizziness rushed in her head and she leaned against the car.

“Let me help you.” Kona stood behind her, not touching, not doing anything more than leaning next to her with his large arm stretched over the hood. “Please let me help you.” His voice cracked, elevated and Keira finally looked at him, stepping back when she noticed his black eyes shining like glass. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” She let him move the hair from her forehead, let him shift her head to examine what was fast becoming a nice little knot. Against her face, she felt the tremors in his fingers. Kona cussed, under his breath, soft oaths he seemed to use to curse himself and then he kissed Keira’s forehead, rested his brow on her shoulder. “What are you doing to me?” He looked up at her. “I’m not right, not about you. I don’t know who I am when I’m with you. It scares the shit out of me.”

“Then maybe this isn’t going to work.” It was something she’d thought about, something she tried not to examine for too long. It had been two short weeks of Keira and Kona playing like a couple. Two weeks that had her laughing more, smiling easier. But in the back of her mind had been the reality of their lives, the people they were when they weren’t around each other. The nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother, whispered that this was pretend, that one day soon the differences between them, the quick anger and easy tempers, would lead to destruction. “I don’t know if I can handle this, Kona.” She waved between them.

She didn’t like the look he gave her, didn’t like how hard he frowned, as though it took effort not to argue with her. Instead, Kona leaned against his car, his hands covering his face, then stilling in his hair as he looked up at the sky.

Keira turned from him, resting her aching head on the back windshield and left Kona with whatever thoughts kept him away from her. It was a moment he seemed to need, but Keira’s dizzy head only got worse, the throbbing beating like a pulse and she couldn’t take the quiet or the cold wind that started to make her fingers burn.

“Take me back to my dorm. I’ll get Leann to bring me to the ER.”

“No. I’ll do it.”

“Kona…” she faced him, still leaning against the car and he shook his head, guided her into her seat and fastened her belt.

“Let me do this, okay? This is my fault. At least let me do this.”

***

Keira wasn’t the type of girl who cried into her pillow. Not since her father’s death had she spent nights awake, soaking the fine cotton fabric against her face. She thought there was nothing left in her, no feeling that warranted any semblance of an emotional catharsis. Her greatest love, her fiercest protector, left her when she was ten and at that time, Keira understood that her tears would not help. In the morning, with her face puffy and eyes swollen, she’d still wake to a world her father had escaped. Why cry? It wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t do anything but have her mother complaining about the dark circles under her eyes.

But as she rested in her dorm, waiting for Kona to return with her filled prescription, Keira let those long-restricted tears fall. It didn’t make her feel any better. It didn’t take away the searing pain working in her head and it didn’t have her eager to forget how all of this happened.

Keira couldn’t tell the difference anymore between anger and sadness. She knew loss; it had been the slow burn that tightened her stomach for eight years. But heartache? Grief for something she’d never really had? Why did that make her sob like a toddler with a missing teddy bear?

Maybe it was how Kona had acted at the hospital. Maybe it was the way he held her close, how he paced outside Radiology when the doctors scanned her brain. Maybe it was the thick weight of guilt she felt coming off of him like a fever. Keira couldn’t be sure, didn’t know how to analyze all that emotion and identify it for what it was. She thought maybe it was the sense of something disappearing; the death of something bright and brilliant that she almost held between her fingers.

I’m stupid, she thought, rolling onto her back.

Really, she figured it was Kona’s silence that brought on the full weight of her tears. How he barely spoke, how the entire two hours they were in that ER, he never said more than “are you okay?” and “I’m so fucking sorry.” He hadn’t been the Kona she’d come to know. He hadn’t told her a dumb joke to make her smile. He’d only listened as the doctor told her she was fine, that a few Lortabs would sort out her headache.

Annoyed by a new wave of tears clouding her vision, Keira got up from her bed, made ginger steps to the bathroom to wash her face before Kona returned, knocking twice on her door before he came inside.

“Keira?”

She stepped out of the bathroom, not even attempting to return the smile he gave her.

“You need to take one of these.” He lifted the white, stapled bag at her and pulled a bottle of water from his jacket pocket.

“Did Leann call back?” she asked, returning to her bed.

“Yeah. She’s on her way. Shouldn’t be too long.”

She took the pill when Kona handed it to her and washed it down with Kona’s water. He watched her closely, eyes sharp as she swallowed. “Did you tell her what happened?”

“Don’t worry about that. She knows I fucked up.”

“Kona, don’t do that.”

He waved her off, taking the bottle back from her before he set it on her bedside table. “Those pills are gonna kick in soon and trust me, you wanna be flat on your back when they do.” No joke. No smart little comment laced with innuendo. Kona pulled her comforter from under Keira’s legs and lifted it, waiting for her to lay down.

But he didn’t leave when Keira snuggled under her covers. He just sat on the foot of her bed, elbows on his knees as he watched her. The silence rose back up, and after a few minutes, Keira felt stifled by the quiet.

“Don’t you have practice today?” He nodded, but kept his gaze on his hands, twisting the large state championship ring around his finger. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

The bed shook twice when Kona’s jerked around to stare at her. “Shit, Keira, don’t thank me. Don’t fucking thank me when I put you in this situation.”

“We were fighting.” She sat up slowly, rested against her headboard and Keira could tell moving only made Kona’s guilt worsen; he grunted once, nostrils flaring and she shook her head, frustrated by his attitude. “You were mad,” she said. “I was mad. Shit happens.”

“Would you listen to yourself?” He stood up then, fingers sliding through his hair. “When are you gonna get it through your head? I’m no fucking good for you.”

“That’s what you think? You think I’m some sort of enabler?” Keira came to her knees then, ready to slap him if kept insulting her. “Like I’m taking your shit because I’m weak?”

“You’re rebelling again. I’m the new Diego, right?”

Keira hated Kona then. She hated the self-effacing smirk on his face and the way he curled his arms tight across his chest. He was mocking her, trying to sting her on purpose, like she was a child, like she needed to be protected from herself, from him.

“Get out.”

“I’m just saying that you…”

“Get out!” She moved back onto her bed, turning away from him. “Just leave. Now. The project is over. There’s no need for us to see each other anymore. Just walk away.”

“I can’t do that.”

She turned to face him, hating that he still stood back, still kept himself rigid. She knew what he was doing. She knew he was looking for reasons, excuses that would make her angry, have her lashing out until she told him she didn’t want him. Fine, she thought, unwilling to fight for something that was never real.

“You don’t have a choice. I’m done. I’m so done with getting glares from every girl that you’ve been with. I’m sick of people talking behind my back like I’m some sort of naive idiot. I’m sick of being compared to every girl you…just leave, Kona.”

He took a step, cautious, slow but his eyes were wide, desperate. “I can’t just leave you here. I’ll wait for Leann...”

“No!” Keira sat up and the quick jostle of her body had her head swimming again. “Just get out of here. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t do this. I don’t care about…just don’t do this to me.”

She was mad, distracted by the burn in her eyes, by the collection of tears that stuck on her lashes. “I’m doing what you want, Kona. I’m giving you an out.” She laid back down and pulled her pillow under her chin. “Just take it.”

Keira thought he might stay. She thought the way his breath hissed out of his throat meant that he struggled with ignoring her and walking away like she knew he wanted to do. She counted the seconds, rubbing her eyes against her pillow, breath held until she heard the click of her door. And then, when she knew she was alone, when Kona’s thick scent didn’t clot in her nose anymore, Keira fell asleep with her tears wetting her pillow.

***

Kona

FOR THE FIRST time in his life, Kona didn’t want to play football. It wasn’t the frigid temperatures or the fact that he was running like shit, working his drills like an amateur that made him want to tear off his pads and leave. Kona just didn’t want to be around anyone.

“Hale! Get your fucking head on right!”

Kona stopped mid run, walking back down the field as Coach Robins yelled after him. He tried again, getting back in formation, Luka next to him staring, but Kona bent down, hand on the grass ready to try the Shuffle Read Run again. His heart wasn’t in it and his mind was clouded with Keira’s sobs as Kona stood outside her door listening just an hour ago.

Robins’ whistle blew and he moved, nothing more than instinct making his feet shuffle. Then Chris Willis, their running back, charged forward and Kona twisted his shoulders, not thinking, not really caring that he’d completely taken himself out of the play.

“Son of bitch!” Robins’ voice carried across the field and Kona lowered his head, hands on his hips as he waited for his coach’s approach. The man got right in his face, yanked on Kona’s helmet to catch his eyes and Kona just took that angry scowl like medicine, focusing on the hard wrinkles around the man’s green eyes and the way his already pink face got redder. “You’re behind your runner and somehow still managing to lose fucking ground! Where you at today? Huh? You forget how to run?” Robin pushed Kona’s helmet back as though he couldn’t look at him another second. “You try that shit again and I swear to Christ if you don’t move your fucking feet I’ll kick you off my field.”

Kona regrouped, jogged back to the line, shaking his head to clear it of Keira and her soft skin and that huge knot on her forehead. “Shit,” he said to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to get rid of her face.

Luka elbowed him as the settled in formation. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Back off, Lu.”

He dug his feet in deep, hustling, working his muscles until they screamed and somehow managed to block his man, to get his runner right where he needed to be.

“Finally!” Robins yelled, but Kona didn’t bother with more than a nod in his coach’s direction. “Second line, move your asses.”

Kona tore off his helmet, grabbed a water from the sideline bench and drank down half of it before Luka could jog next to him.

“Brah, what’s the problem?”

His brother’s features were set hard and Kona appreciated the concern, the way Luka was trying to help him, but he didn’t need a lecture; he was tearing himself up enough for the both of them. “I need a minute, Lu.”

“You don’t have a minute. You’re in your first year of eligibility, jackass.” He got in Kona’s face, slapping the water bottle out of his hand. “Get your shit together and run like your ass is on fire.”

And for once, Kona listened to his twin. He spent the next half hour tearing down the field, hustling, shuffling with his shoulders straight, attacking the sleds like an animal, pouring everything in his head onto each pad and the poor redshirts that got landed with him.

Somehow, though, Robins didn’t care. “Hale, get your ass over here,” the coach said when practice was winding down. Kona met him on the sidelines, helmet in his hand. Robins didn’t bother looking up from his clipboard. “Get rid of those pads. You’re on the chute for twenty minutes.”

“Coach…”

“You spent the first hour of my practice running like an old lady.” Finally, he glanced at Kona, eyes cold, hard, like Kona’s half-assed efforts were a personal offense. “You wanna play tomorrow night, son?”

Kona nodded, trying to swallow down his irritation.

“Good. Then get your ass on the track and put on that damn resistance chute. I need you ready.”

Nathan and Brian laughed at him as he walked off the field, striping off his jersey and pads as he went and Kona gave them a middle finger salute. An assistant coach Kona had only met twice outfitted him with the chute and Kona tore down the track, cursing Robins and his own stupidity as he ran.

Keira’s voice came back to him then. Between each thump of his heart and the heavy pant of his breath, Kona heard her words over and over.

Just walk away.

Just walk away? From her? Was she out of her head?

Kona’s thoughts and the aching guilt that crawled into his chest when Keira’s head slammed against that window drove out the tension in his body, made the pull of the chute behind him seem like a toddler tugging on his shirt. He ran to get away from how stupid he’d been thinking she belonged with him. Of course she turned him loose. He didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He’d known it would end, felt it in his gut, but Kona was selfish, greedy for what he wanted and the only thing he wanted then was Keira.

It took him a full minute for the sound of the coach’s whistle to register. The cloud lifted from his head and exhaustion fell on him, like a drain unstoppered.

“Hale!” Robins yelled from the field and Kona moved his chin, acknowledging him. “Pack it up.”

Luka met him as Kona picked up his pads and jersey and he took the water bottle his twin offered. His brother had that look, the one that told Kona he was going to nag.

Kona downed the water and fell to the ground, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. Luka joined him, leaning back on his hands. He was giving Kona a moment to settle, but Luka was impatient. Kona could see by the way his brother shook his leg that he was gearing up for a fight.

Kona sighed, took one final swallow of cold water and then he nodded at his brother. “Go ahead.”

“What was that?”

“Luka, back off. I don’t feel like hearing you bitch at me.”

“Well somebody needs to. You’re fucking this up.”

Kona threw the bottle and it just missed Luka’s head. “It’s one practice. One out of how many? I’m not allowed an off day?”

“No. You’re not.” Luka kicked his foot. “Not even one. There is too much riding on this, Kona and you know it. You have to be perfect, all the time. You have to work harder than anyone else out there.” He turned his head, watching Nathan and Brian as they slung water at each other, emptying each of their bottles as they chased each other off the field. “We both do. We’re up against guys that have two years on us. This ain’t freshman year anymore. We’re out of the weight room and on the field. We have to be better than everyone on that line.”

Kona didn’t want to hear it. He knew it already, knew how his little effort, how his distraction had affected his playing. Still, he didn’t need Luka repeating something he already knew. He stood up then, walking toward the locker room without a backward glance at his twin, but stopped short when his empty water bottle connected with the back of his head. Kona spun around, pissed off, growing angrier at Luka’s laughter, at how his brother bent over, holding his stomach.

“Shit,” Luka said when Kona stomped toward him, peeling off his sweaty shirt like he was ready for a serious scrape.

“You think you’re funny? Think that shit is funny?”

Without thinking, Kona took a swing and his brother didn’t flinch, he barely moved and Kona’s huge knuckles caught Luka right on the chin.

His brother staggered back, rubbed his chin then held up his hand when one of the assistants started toward them. Finally, he looked at Kona, his eyebrows up. “Feel better?”

“No!” Kona kicked his pads, sending them next to the sideline benches.

“Is this about that bitch?”

He darted toward his brother, grabbing his collar. “Don’t you fucking call her that. Don’t ever call her that.”

Luka’s features transformed, shock, surprise all making his eyes round, making his mouth dip open. “Woah, dude, what the hell?”

Keira again. It all came back to her. She had him on edge, had him stupid with confusion and guilt and Kona didn’t think Luka would get it. He knew his twin had never spent more than a week with one girl, hell, Kona hadn’t either, before. This was all new to him and the idea that he hated and loved feeling this way twisted his gut. Exhausted from the excruciating practice and the muddled shit running through his mind, Kona dropped to his knees then sat back down on the ground.

Luka came next to him, but Kona kept his eyes down, fingers curled in his hair. “I almost killed her.”

“What?”

“Today.” He rubbed his face and released a deep breath. “Tonya fucked with her, got in her head and Keira lost it. She completely lost it. Called me on all my shit.”

Luka whistled, stared after Kona like he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “She’s getting to you? And you’re letting her?”

Kona glanced at his brother, head shaking. “She wasn’t wrong. But, she had me so pissed off, downplaying what was going on with us that I threw her in my car, tore off down the interstate.” Kona still heard the screech of the tires and he swallowed against the bile he could taste in the back of his throat. “Got too close to a median and she smacked her head on the window.”

Luka whistled, an amazed sound that grated Kona’s nerves. “She okay?”

“No thanks to me.” He deserved whatever Keira gave him, he knew that. He deserved to have her tossing him out like he was nothing. He felt like nothing. “Shit.” Kona laid back on the grass uncaring about the mud seeping into his hair. “Why this one girl, brah? What the hell did she do to me? I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I wanna do is be around her. I care what she thinks.” He turned his head, looking up at his brother, hoping he had answers. “Why the hell do I care what she thinks?”

Luka frowned, gnawed at the inside of his cheek, considering Kona, looking at him like he was losing it. “I don’t know, brah.” His twin looked down at his feet, features relaxing before he spoke again. “She’s a sweet girl and maybe she’s good for you. Maybe she’s what you need. You think it’s pilialoha?”

Kona slipped his eyes toward his twin, staring at him for a few stunned seconds before he closed his eyes. The term was always in the back of Kona’s mind. To be in a bond of love, according to his kuku. It’s what Kona wanted to avoid. What he thought he’d never have for himself.

“I don’t know,” Kona said, not sure he liked how his mind began to convince himself that’s exactly what he had with Keira.

“Listen, brah, you don’t need this bullshit. Girls will mess you up if you let them and you’ve got too much coming your way. Keira’s a nice girl. She’s hot.” Kona sat up, glared at Luka, his brother rolled his eyes, making Kona feel like an idiot. “I’m just saying. But brah, you gotta back off. You can’t let her control you like this. You gotta walk away.”

“Not necessary. She tossed me.”

“Good.”

“Fuck you, Lu.” Kona dug his heel into the ground, pulling up the grass and dirt as he thought about not being around Keira. Luka didn’t get it. He didn’t understand how she calmed him, how much he liked her.

“The season is wrapping up and she’s affecting you. Before you know it, winter camp will be here and she’ll only get in the way. You aren’t running like you should. You aren’t performing and people are noticing.”

“What?” Kona said, gaze shooting to his brother. His stomach dropped when Luka shrugged, when he nodded. If people were talking, even if it was just the players, then Kona was already in deep shit.

“I heard a few of the guys talking. Coach isn’t happy with you. Nathan said he heard Coach tell Fleming that he’s thinking of playing him Saturday.”

Ryan Fleming was about twenty pounds lighter and much slower than Kona. The kid was a joke and if Coach was going to play him, then Kona must be dragging ass. “He can’t do that.”

“The hell he can’t.”

The half-assed efforts had all started when Kona and Keira amped up whatever it was they’d been doing. But even before that, when Kona told Ricky he was done with his shit, he had noticed his performance slipping. Luka would hate it, Kona hated it, but Ricky had something that could help. At least for tomorrow’s game.

“You need to listen to me, brah. I’m your older brother.”

Kona rolled his eyes. “By three minutes.”

“Still, I’m worried about you. How we gonna get our rings if you keep messing up?”

Kona smiled at his twin, couldn’t help remembering the promise they made to each other as kids. The Hale boys, with matching Super Bowl rings. They didn’t care about the money, not really. It was the rings, what they meant—that the hard work, the effort had paid off—that both of them wanted. Kona looked down, forehead dipping as he thought about how poorly he’d been playing, how his distraction had threatened all the plans he and Luka had made together. Then suddenly, Kona knew what he had to do.

“I gotta go,” he told his brother, jumping to his feet before Luka could stop him. Like always, his twin followed behind.

“Where to?”

“I have some shit to take care of.”

Luka pulled on his arm. “Brah if she tossed you…”

Kona twisted out of his brother’s grip. “I’m not going to see Keira.” Luka would follow, he always did, and Kona knew he’d give him shit for hooking back up with Ricky. Still, he wanted to know what Kona was planning. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be in his business. “I need an edge.”

“Kona…”

“Look, I let myself slack off. I had to because it was messing with me and you see what happens? I didn’t work my ass off to just fuck off my chances here. I need an edge. What I don’t need is you telling me I’m about to lose my spot and then bitching at me when I try to handle it.”

“Ricky’s way isn’t how you do it.”

“I know that,” he said, walking back toward the locker room. “I’m not an idiot. It’s just temporary.”

“It’s never temporary.” Kona waved him off, jogged away from Luka before he tried stopping him again, but as he edged toward the locker room, he heard Luka behind him, voice loud, a small plea between each word. “Kona, don’t do this, brah. Kona! Wait!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

KEIRA

HOW DARE you

Trample with your words

Tatter who I am

Poison with your lips

Give it gram by gram.

The words poured from Keira, fell from her mouth like water and she lived inside that melody, brought life and breath to lyric and rhyme like a priestess working a spell. Except the hook. She was stumped by that constant refrain that would make the song complete.

Saturday night and Keira sat on her bed, strumming her Gibson, while the rest of campus cheered on the CPU Blue Devils. She had enough inspiration, enough melancholy and angst to write a hundred songs. But that elusive hook held her back.

She tried again, fitting words together by force, lining phrases with chords that did not connect, that didn’t reflect what she kept inside her. Keira didn’t know why it was such a struggle, where this block had come from, but she needed the comfort music provided. Her emotions were too raw, her head still full of Kona’s mouth, his hands, the disgusting way he played her. She promised herself she wouldn’t leave her bed until that damn hook came to her.

Three more chords, a few hums to fill the words that had not come to her and then the knock on her door stopped her mid-strum. Guitar on the foot of her bed, Keira grabbed her hoodie off the dresser before she opened the door just a crack and then, drew it back when she saw Luka Hale standing in the hallway.

“Luka?”

His smile was easy, as usual, and Keira liked how relaxed he was, how relaxed he always seemed. “Sorry to barge in like this.” Luka bit on the inside of his mouth, a nervous gesture that made him seem harmless.

Keira wasn’t so sure about that. She bet that supposedly harmless maneuver had landed many a gullible girl in his bed.

Hale Hawaiian demon magic, she thought.

“It’s okay, but Kona’s not here,” she told him, figuring that was the only reason Kona’s twin would be at her door. She tried not to think about what post-game activities the big linebacker was up to. “I thought he’d be with you.”

“He’s at Lucy’s with the rest of the team.” Luka nodded at her, as though he wanted an invitation inside and Keira relented, opening the door wider.

“Okay.” For the life of her, Keira couldn’t think why Luka would be there. She and Kona had kept things between them. At least, she thought they had. He’d certainly never mentioned talking about her to his brother, and anytime they went out it was always alone and never involved anywhere his family or teammates would be. But Luka came into her dorm, eyes around the room, hands swinging at his side, like he had something to say to her. He turned away from Leann’s desk and offered Keira a smile, glancing once at her bed.

“How was the game?” She moved her guitar and notebook out of his way and offered him the foot of her bed.

“Good. We won. Fourteen to ten.” He shrugged, waved his hand like their match with the Florida Gators hadn’t been a big deal. Keira knew better. Well, she knew better because Leann told her it was a huge deal. Luka leaned back against the footboard when Keira sat across from him. “Could have been better. Kona was off. He’s been off for a while.”

“He didn’t mention anything about it.” She cleared her throat. “We never talked about football.”

That smile was dangerous, flirty, and Keira rolled her eyes when Luka waggled his eyebrows. “He wouldn’t.” When she didn’t return the stupid smile, Luka exhaled, sat up straighter. “Look, Keira, it’s none of my business what’s going on with you and my brother.”

She felt awkward with him here, not like she had that first time with Kona, but there was still a strange sense of discomfort in the room. “But you’re making it your business?”

“I guess I am.” Luka got off the bed, walked around her room with his hands touching random things—her picture frames on the dresser, Leann’s bracelets. “He’s my twin,” he finally said, bouncing Leann’s rubber tension ball onto the floor. “There isn’t anybody in the world who I know better, who knows me better and when he’s going through shit, we handle it. Together.”

Keira lowered her shoulders, thinking that all this nervous behavior was about Kona and the stupid way he drove around the city. She thought Luka was trying to smooth things over, maybe convince her not tell anyone why she’d ended up at the ER. “If this is about the wreck…”

“He feels like shit.” Luka threw the rubber ball onto Leann’s bed. “He feels worse that you cut him loose.”

She thought this was worse than her keeping her mouth shut. Luka wanted to smooth things over, all right. He was playing mediator?

“I did what he wanted. He was pushing me, Luka. I just gave him an out.”

“The thing is, I’ve never seen him like he is with you. At first, I didn’t like it. I told him as much yesterday.” Luka moved back to the bed, this time sitting closer to Keira. “But he got worse. At practice and even tonight at the game, he was keyed up, but off, on edge and I figured it was because of you. I figured if he had it so bad for you before, then you breaking up with him made him ten times worse.”

“We weren’t together. Not really.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her. “Doesn’t matter. He’s better with you. He’s calmer. He smiles more and Keira, my brother never smiles easy. That’s me, not him.” That flirty smile returned to Luka’s face and Keira realized he was more lethal than Kona. She could imagine him using that smile to get out of everything stupid he landed in.

She didn’t care about Luka, not really and part of her really didn’t appreciate him butting into her life, into whatever had gone on between her and Kona. But Keira didn’t have any siblings. She didn’t know if this was something normal, something brothers did for each other when shit got messy.

“Did he send you?”

Luka’s laugh was loud, almost paranoid and Keira blew out a breath when his laughter didn’t taper off. “Are you serious? He would kick my ass if he knew I was here.” When she only stared at him, a tight frown making her mouth ache, Luka finally stopped smiling. “Shit, Keira I mentioned how hot you were to him yesterday at practice and he almost jumped me. In fact, I’d appreciate you not mentioning to him I was here.” He looked down, seemed to just realize he was sitting on her bed and Luka jumped up and leaned against the wall.

“What do you want from me, Luka? We aren’t speaking right now.” Keira pick up her pillow, ran her fingernail along the edge. “We don’t’ have any reason to talk to each other.”

“That’s a problem you can handle quick.” Keira meant to argue, to tell Luka she was finished with Kona. She couldn’t compete with his fan club and she was tired of trying. But Luka Hale was perceptive, he was smart enough to read her expression. He shook his head when she opened her mouth, effectively cutting off whatever stupid thing she was about to say. “I’m asking you for a favor. I’m asking you to not give up on him. I’m asking you to get him calm again.” There was something working behind Luka’s eyes, some small disclosure he seemed to debate and Keira’s curiosity was piqued. She let him consider what he wanted to say, didn’t press when he looked cautious about what he was going to tell her. “Kona’s dealing with some shit… well, I’m not about to spread rumors about my brother. But when you were around, he wasn’t as screwed up. He had someone to focus on, someone he cared about.”

Keira’s laugh was quick, biting and Luka didn’t seem to like it. He got fidgety again, started shaking his foot, but Keira came off the bed, picked up her guitar as a distraction. Two quick strums and that sweet calm moved from the vibrations of the strings right into her fingers. “There are a thousand girls on this campus that would gladly take my place and he’s screwed most of them.”

Luka’s sigh was long, labored and Keira guessed that it wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone call his brother a slut. “You ever do something you weren’t proud of?” She nodded, but it was quick, barely a movement. “Kona was 6’4 by the time he was fourteen. He’s a decent looking guy and girls seem to like him for some strange reason. Personally, I think I’m the cute one, but Kona has had girls throwing themselves at him since he was a kid.” She let his joke pass and continued to play as Luka pushed off from the wall and leaned against the footboard. “Hell, even grown women have made assholes of themselves over him. And Kona’s a pleaser. He wants to make people happy.” Another shrug and Luka’s foot stopped shaking. “I’m not saying that he’s always been smart about what’s he’s done, but it’s all he’s ever known. Until you. You’re good for him. You’re what he needs.”

Keira laid her fingers over the strings, needing the silence for Luka to hear her, to understand what a disaster she and Kona were together. “Luka, we are stupid with each other. Did he tell you about what happened at Nathan’s party?”

“He said you had a strong arm. And then he said he wanted to eat you alive.” Keira snorted, pick softly at her guitar, but she kept her attention on Luka and the return of his relaxed, easy smile. “This is what I’m saying, Keira. You do things to him that messes with his head. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. And okay, so maybe you both push each other’s buttons, but shit, isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? Isn’t that one person supposed to drive you crazy?”

Clearly, she thought, insanity runs in that thick Hawaiian blood. “I am so not Kona’s one.”

“Stranger things have happened. Hell, I’m not asking you to marry him. I’m asking you to give him a break when he gets a little crazy. I’m asking you not to give up on him.”

When Keira only stared at Luka, mouth once again quirked in that weird ache of frown, he slumped against the footboard, rubbing his eyes. She played “Black” by Pearl Jam, a song about goodbyes that fit Keira’s mood and her erratic thoughts about Kona.

“God, Keira, you’re stubborn as hell.”

She played louder, looking down at her hands like a kid just figuring finger movements just so she could tune out the pathetic whine in Luka’s voice. It reminded her of Kona, of the way he pouted when she refused to kiss him or when he wasn’t getting his way. “You sound like your brother.” She ignored Luka’s heavy exhale and continued playing the song. “Is that genetic? The whiny bullshit?”

“Yes, but our mom says it’s from the sperm donor’s side of the family.” Luka nudged her knee with his foot and she finally looked up at him. When she did, that stupid smile was back, this time stretched so wide that dimples appeared in his right cheek. “Come on, please? Just talk to him. Give him another chance. Maybe you can talk some sense into him or at least get him out of this funk he’s in. Let him grovel a little.”

Keira didn’t think the sperm donor blood had anything to do with the Hale pouts or the asinine things Luka and Kona did, but somehow she knew, deep in her gut, that Luka’s smile was about to get her into a lot of stupid shit.

***

Kona

HE FELT LIKE A GOD. He was Kona, God of awesome. God of football. God of the fucking blitz.

“Whose house is this?” he screamed, blood pumping like a busted pipe. All around him, the crowd, drunk on victory, on the utter pride of their win, cheered Kona on.

“Devils!” The roar of the crowd and their loud chant only made Kona’s blood flow faster, his heart pump wilder.

“You’re damn right!”

He felt like he could wrestle an alligator and that whiny, scaly bitch would be crying for his mama inside of a minute. “Shots!” He climbed onto the chair, arms up over his head as Brian tried to tug him down by his jeans. “Bring me shots!”

Tonight Lucy’s was his kingdom and around him, the crowd of fans, most of them girls climbing over each other to sit with the players at Kona’s side, were his court. Eager, healthy, gorgeous women who wanted them all; drink-buying, back-slapping dudes who wanted to be them. Life was good and through the fog of adrenaline and beer and whatever the hell that purple shit was he’d just downed, Kona couldn’t remember why he’d been in such a bad mood at practice the day before.

The revelry and that win was what he needed.

He jumped down off the chair when the shot girl came toward their table, weighted down with a tray of dark liquid that had Kona’s mouthwatering.

“Fuckin right!” he said, shoving the empty beer bottles onto the floor before he patted the table. “Right here, sweetheart.”

“Kona, dude, watch it,” Brian said, scooting his chair back, away from the mess Kona made. “Seriously man, slow down.”

A sudden wave of anger hit him in his chest. He didn’t need a babysitter. He didn’t need Brian treating him like a kid. “Fuck you, brah.” He slammed back two shots of Jagger, chasing one with the next before he banged the small shot glass onto the table. “I’m just getting started, motherfucker. Either keep up or fuck off.”

“I think he’s questioning your manhood, dude.” Kona laughed at Nathan’s jab, then laughed harder when Brian got pissed at them both and walked away from the table.

Kona cheered Nathan on when he downed a shot, then beat his fist on the table when Chris Willis followed them. He couldn’t make the smile leave his face as each of his fellow teammates guzzled the shots, one right after the other, each taking a turn, the drinking going faster, racing as the crowd around them cheered them on.

When Ryan Fleming, that stupid punk threatening his spot on the line, took the last shot and choked, coughing like a punk, Kona stood up, punching the air as though their fast downing of the hard liquor was a race and he had pulled into the finish line first.

He loved this place. They came here after every game, made it their second home and preferred place of victory, which was often, and post-loss reflection, which wasn’t. Kona loved the glossy, miniature surf boards on the walls, the yellow tabletops, the red brick floor and the Christmas lights lining the bar. It had atmosphere, was homey, always smelled of pulled pork tacos and sweet pickles, but a sudden bout of dizziness hit Kona just then and even the crowd and the familiar sound of music and laughter couldn’t quite calm him or help to clear his swimming head. Swallowing, he pushed down the sensation, guzzled a glass of water and tried to regroup.

Kona didn’t care about the sweat on the back of his neck or how slick his skin felt. This was good, him with his teammates, the crowd celebrating with them. The only thing missing was Luka, but Kona figured he’d show up eventually.

“Hey baby, how ‘bout another one?” The pretty redhead from behind the bar moved her hips, swaying around the crowd until she was on Kona’s lap. “This one is on the house.” She pushed her chest toward Kona’s face and he smiled at the long glass tube resting in her cleavage.

There was only a moment’s pause, a brief flicker in his mind that told him he didn’t need another drink. His head was muddled with adrenaline, with victory and liquor already and something held him back, something that told him he didn’t want this girl jutting her tits at him. But then the crowd started in again and Nathan egged him on with “Dude, take it,” and Kona silenced that little whisper.

“What the hell,” he said, turning the redhead toward his mouth. A quick dip of his mouth against her warm skin that smelled like apples and his mouth covered the glass. He jerked his head back and the liquor slid down his throat, burning and sweet.

He felt the slaps on his back and heard the crowd roaring, happy that he’d taken the tarty offer, but something in Kona’s chest bunched up tight, something hard and searing that made him feel like an asshole.

“I’ve got somewhere else you can put those lips, baby.” The redhead kissed the shell of his ear and Kona frowned. Keira’s face shifted back into his foggy mind and he pushed the girl off his lap, shoving her aside.

“I’m not interested,” he told her, the adrenaline cooling in his veins, sobering him slightly.

The barmaid shuffled away from the table in a huff but Kona didn’t care, didn’t bother to apologize for being rude, didn’t even answer Nathan when he asked him why he made the redhead leave.

“I gotta take a piss,” he told Nathan, nodding to the few people that tried stopping him as he left the table. He felt the prickle of something familiar against his neck, that quiet whisper that had him hesitating earlier and as he made it to the bar, Kona looked to his right, squinted at Luka at the other end. His brother was talking to Brian and both shot a glare at him. He started to join them, moved around two girls who looked eager, happy that Kona was moving in their direction, but when Luka stepped back and Kona saw Keira holding a beer in her hand, when he caught the cool fire that licked anger and fury in her eyes, Kona stopped where he stood.

Had she seen his stupid scene with the redhead? Was that and his loud ass mouth why his brother was shooting venom at him with his expression? He considered both for a few seconds and then all thought left him as Keira whispered something in Luka’s ear, her hand laying lightly on his chest. His brother squeezed that hand, stood too close to her, held her attention for too long and Kona didn’t care if either of them was pissed off at him. He was going to find out what the hell they were doing there together and why his brother was touching his girl.

Kona pushed two guys out of his way with his shoulder as he darted across the bar, ignoring their threats, careless about their protests. He wanted to get his hands around Luka’s neck, wanted to slug him again. The closer he got, the harder Keira stared at him and just before he met his brother in the middle of the bar, Keira turned away, guzzling on her beer as she headed toward the door.

“Brah, calm down,” Luka said, then his twin staggered back when Kona pushed his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here with her?” Brian was behind him, trying to hold him off of his brother, but Kona deflected his arms easily.

Luka straightened, then grabbed Kona’s collar, his face hard. “She came here to talk to you, asshole, but then you had your mouth all over that redhead’s tits.”

He slapped Luka off him, still reeling from the image of his brother touching Keira. “You didn’t fucking answer me.”

Luka closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I brought her here for you.”

“You…what?”

“Yeah, asshat, I talked her in to coming. I was trying to get her to give you another chance.” Luka straightened his shirt, took a swig of his beer. “You are such a fuck up, you know that, right?”

Kona glanced toward the door, catching the back of Keira’s head as she left. “I know, brah.” He looked back at his brother, scratching his fingers over his face. “I know what I am.” And then Kona ran after Keira.

***

Keira

KEIRA WAS GOING BACK to her dorm to finish that damn song. The hook would come, she knew it would, but as she walked in front of the building, glancing once at the huge, vertical letters spelling “Lucy’s” against the chipping white paint, toward the parking lot, she tried to think of words that rhymed with “asshole” and “wayward dick.” Those were words she intended to include in her song. She decided then she’d call it “Kona Hale is Useless Whore of a Boy.” It wasn’t a catchy title, but it damn well would make her feel better.

Maybe.

She dug in her pocket, searching for her keys as she took another swig of her beer, not caring that her fingers were freezing against the cold wind that blew through the alley and the frigid bottle in her hand. She wanted to drink, something she usually didn’t even think about. She wanted to be drunk and she thought of who on campus could score some liquor for her. That was her last thought—names of her dorm mates who had fake I.D.s or at least an old enough boyfriend—before the pound of feet behind her had her twisting around.

“You really need to go back inside.”

Kona didn’t even slow as he caught up to her. “Wildcat—” she pushed him, shutting him up with a shove.

“Do not even try it. Walk away.”

“Would you let me explain?”

She laughed at him, disgusted at herself, at him, at the useless hope that she held onto as she followed Luka through the city toward Lucy’s. Once again Kona had proved he would never change.

“There’s nothing to explain, Kona. You doing what you always do isn’t a surprise to anyone.” He looked like she’d slapped him and she was glad, for three full seconds, that she’d stung him. Then Kona’s face screwed up into something like a frown, it could have been a scowl. Keira planned to not stick around to find out. She gave him her back, made a double effort to find her keys in her deep pockets and was nearly to her Pontiac when Kona’s shout rang out behind.

“I don’t fucking want anyone but you!”

Did he think she was stupid? Did he honestly think what she’d seen him doing tonight could be explained?

She turned around, bottle still in hand. She wanted so badly to slap him. Her fingers itched to do it, but then Kona moved quick, coming in front of her like a man ready to plead for his life with the executioner.

“I know what you saw. I know what it looked like, but Keira, my head isn’t on right tonight. I’m…” he growled, hands shaking as he turned away from her and kicked the plastic trashcan against the brick wall. Bending to catch his breath, Kona looked like he might vomit.

“You’re not capable, Kona.” She took a step, her voice softer, but her anger saturated that calm tone. “I’m not an idiot. I see how your eyes wander. I see the attention you get. And that’s fine.”

Kona stood up then, gaze whipping to her like he knew a threat was coming. Keira ignored that look, ignored how straight he held himself, how he stood with his feet apart ready for an attack. “What do you mean, ‘that’s fine’?” He managed a smile that was both hopeful and suspicious.

Keira blinked and the image of the redhead and Kona’s mouth on her chest had her squirming. “You do what you want. I will too.”

The smile dropped from his face.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You think you’re the only one to notice me? You think I don’t get offers? I have choices, Kona. You’re not my only option.”

“Who, Keira?” His voice was calm, too calm and Keira knew that expression; she recognized his anger, the vivid, suspicious imagination. She guessed that inside Kona’s head were paranoid images that probably made his stomach roll: Keira’s mouth on an unfamiliar chest; her hands sliding up shoulders, arms, too small to be his. He took a step closer and Keira didn’t back down from that frown, from the hard, uneven breath that shot from his flared nostrils. “Who?” His voice was louder then, so sharp and demanding that Keira flinched at the sound.

But she wasn’t a coward and she’d never been threatened by his temper. In fact, most times, she responded to it, got off, just a little bit, on it. More than she’d like to admit, she loved making that temper worse.

“None of your fucking business. Just go, Kona. Leave me alone. I’m leaving. Maybe I’ll stop by a bar. Maybe I’ll make a call.”

“Like hell you will.”

She didn’t bother responding to his jealous command, didn’t even give him the annoyed little glare she normally leveled at him. Instead, Keira shook her head, intent on putting space between them. But she barely managed two steps, maybe three before his grip was on her arm, spinning her around, giving her no space, no chance to back away from him.

“Don’t you walk away from me.” Keira could see the wild desperation in his eyes; the possessive nature that flicked forward. It thundered a dichotomy of emotions into her mind—rage, insult, passion.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like a crazy person.” She jerked back from him, spilled beer on his shirt and Kona’s hold loosened. “I’m not yours, Kona. I’ll never be yours.” She knew the lie was weak, pathetic, she knew that the temper stirring on his face was growing and though she knew it was stupid to provoke him, she couldn’t help herself. Some dark, quiet part of her loved how eager, how frantic he looked.

Kona’s frown was severe, and from his body, Keira could feel his rage, the quick whip of anger that she loved seeing from him. She was playing with fire, standing so close to it that she felt her skin blister. She stepped back, their burning glances hard, challenging before there was enough space between them.

“Where are you going?”

Keira felt drunk, fueled by insult, by lust and the words were out of her mouth before her brain had given them permission to leave. “I’m going to check on those other offers.” She walked backward, a calculating, forced mock of a smile on her face. “You know Luka looked good tonight. Maybe I’ll go see what he’s up to.”

Keira could not take that look, the quick slap of frustration, rage, something she put out of her mind as quickly as she glanced at it, turning from him, knowing that it was Kona’s shout of rage echoing in the alley, bouncing off the bricks and empty pavement. She could feel him coming, each step getting faster and the bottle in her hand lowered, as Keira readied herself for his hands on her arms, to do battle and not think of the consequences.

When he spun her around, jerked her toward him, Keira lifted the bottle, a threat, a promise that put a quick, taunting smile on Kona’s face. “Gonna hit me, Wildcat? Go ahead.” Kona slapped his own face, swelling up to her, daring her to react. “Do it, you little coward. Hit me.” Another slap, another step and Keira’s temper broke. He was too large. Too much altogether and Keira lost her sense, let reason shift from the forefront of her mind. She wanted that condescending smile off his face.

Keira swung hard and the bottle in her hand cracked against Kona’s cheek. It took him to the ground and when he looked up at her, eyes wide, confused, Keira fell to her knees. “Shit. Kona. Oh God.”

Blood poured from his cheek and Keira tasted the bitter, sour tang of vomit on the back of her tongue.

What did I do? What the hell did I just do?

She couldn’t touch him. There was too much blood and even though Kona reached for her, needed someone to steady him, Keira retreated, scrambled off the ground.

“Keira, wait…” Kona held his hand against his face and that sick taste in her mouth doubled. Behind her she heard the scatter of activity; the quick thunder of feet on the pavement and then Luka was next to Kona, cursing, scared, glaring at her.

“What the fuck, Keira? You did this? Are you crazy?”

Kona pushed against his brother as he got to his feet and Keira moved around them, ran for her car, tears blurring the light above her and the outline of her Sunfire just feet in front of her. “I…I’m sorry,” she said, over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

She dropped her keys, trying to unlock it, trying to hurry as Kona shouted at Luka, as he tried fighting against the small crowd that had gathered.

“No, brah,” she heard Luka tell Kona. “Let her go.”

And the last thing she heard before she shut her door and fired up the engine was Kona’s ragged voice screaming her name.

***

Keira

KEIRA COULDN’T SLEEP. Her mind was pumped full of adrenaline and guilt, her heart twisted like someone had a grip on every inch of the muscle.

She hated Kona.

That’s what she told herself. Hate was easy. Hate, she was used to. She had practice with pushing her feelings down deep, with ignoring any semblance of affection. She should never have wanted him. Wanting only led to disappointment.

But the girl tonight with her arms around Kona, with her lips rubbing precariously close to his ear, had Keira questioning those repressed feelings she’d felt over the past weeks. God knew how much she wanted Kona. She liked his kisses. She loved the way he looked at her. She loved the way his skin smelled after he’d run to the library with no time to shower after practice.

He did things to her body that she wasn’t used to. They’d flirted. They’d made out and afterward, each time, she felt her body burn. He never pushed. He never asked for more than what she offered and it drove her insane.

And Kona’s mouth, his hands, his skin made her wonder why she held him off, why she hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked for more. Keira closed her eyes and long red hair, shattered the darkness. The girl had been actually pretty, not like the familiar, vapid clones on campus. She stuck out. Of course Kona would take what she offered. The thought of it made her sick. Keira knew he wouldn’t change. Weeks and weeks she had lied to herself, had repressed the knowledge that he was a beautiful, popular athlete who could have his pick of anyone he wanted. She hated that Kona made her doubt herself, made her feel somehow subpar. But even through her anger and pain she had to acknowledge that if the last weeks had told her anything, it was that Kona wanted her too. Maybe not forever, but he definitely wanted her.

He wanted her like air, like breath. He’d showed her in every lingering glance, in the small movement of his fingers down her neck, in the calm, settled way he rested against her chest while she raked her nails through his hair.

Keira tightened her eyes at the memory of his lips on her neck. Her traitorous nipples hardened, and her skin felt fevered as she lay in her bed remembering what his tongue had felt like on her neck, his fingers just under the clasp of her bra, working inside her, making her come so hard she thought she might pass out. A quick shudder moved across her skin and Keira had to turn on her side, pull her knees up to shake off the sudden hum that throbbed between her legs.

She couldn’t shake the image from her mind or the feelings from her body. Kona might want Keira, but that didn’t mean he wanted only her. There were over a two thousand available girls on campus. It seemed like they all were after Kona. What was she compared to them? She was one of the crowd. One of the many.

And tonight, with him acting like a maniac, her getting aroused, so needy by his anger, brought back the sudden, ugly image of Kona on the ground with blood pouring from his cheek.

Aggressive tendencies. That’s what the doctor had told an eleven-year-old Keira she was fighting against. It was that buried, angry thread of rage that Keira had experienced the moment her mother had flippantly broke the news to her: “Your father put a pistol to his temple and killed himself, Keira.” And not ten minutes later, “Try not to carry on at the funeral.”

Her mother had made it clear that she was to hide what she felt; told her that tears were something only infants were allowed and so Keira swallowed up that grief, the rage that being left without her beloved father had kindled in her heart. She stowed away that anger, those tears, because that is what she was expected to do. That’s what ladies did. They shouldered others' burdens, and ignored their own.

Pills helped when necessary, as did years of therapy, but then Kona Hale entered her life and that angry little girl forgot that she was supposed to breathe when rage hit her. She forgot that she should count, let the anger pass. He brought it out in her with little effort and tonight had been the catalyst, the tipping off point of frustration and heat, and desire denied, that sent Keira over the edge.

It wasn’t an excuse. It didn’t allow for reason or tell Keira that swinging a cold bottle at Kona’s face was in the least understandable. She felt like a freak, an unhinged monster and Keira buried her face into her pillow, hiding from her guilt. The tears came again, harder, sharper than the ones she’d cried the day before when Kona had left her room.

Leann’s bed lay empty. Michael got her attention on weekends. Michael got her cousin’s attention most days. But it was Saturday night, game night, and Leann’s priorities were on her man and not her unbalanced, violent cousin. Keira understood that. But it didn’t make her feel any less alone.

Anger, lust, shame, they all coiled together, shot straight to Keira’s core, aching, throbbing and she felt stupid and unstable and thought she should touch herself, maybe hit something, to try to release the pent up feelings inside. She didn’t know which she wanted more - the emotional release or the physical one.

The clock on her bedside table blinked three a.m. and Keira wondered if Kona had been patched up, if he’d calmed, if he’d left the bar bloody, but not alone.

I’m so fucking twisted.

That throb got worse when she remembered Kona’s lips on her skin, his knuckles inside her just two nights before and she lay on her stomach, slipping her fingers beneath the shorts she wore. She rubbed twice, felt her pulse against her fingers and then her door slid open and she shoved her hands under her pillow.

“You didn’t stay at Michael’s?” she asked, expecting her cousin’s sleepy reply. But then large hands settled on her hip, a larger body slid in behind her on the bed. For one split, frantic moment she thought to scream in sudden fear at the intruder in her room, but then she caught a familiar scent, sensed his unmistakable presence. Her fear turned to shock that he was there, that he had been able to get into the dorm without catching the RA’s attention, but he moved so quickly, so soundlessly and felt so warm, so comfortable that her shock quickly faded.

He didn’t speak for several moments, didn’t do much else but move his huge hand around her waist. She didn't move, didn't turn around, willed the bed to swallow her up.

“I’m so fucked up. I’ve always been fucked up.” Kona brushed a kiss against her neck and Keira squeezed her eyes shut, trembling when the smell of his skin and his hot breath made the throb worse. His voice was low, soft and she could tell that whatever he’d been drunk on earlier that night had left his system. “I shouldn’t have touched the redhead.” His hand pushed against her stomach, and her back was flushed against his chest. “I shouldn’t have touched Tonya Lucas, not after you stayed with me at the hospital. I don’t know why I’m the way I am. I don’t know why you make me so scared of everything I feel, Wildcat.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He ignored her. “I shouldn’t have let her touch me.”

Feeble deflection seemed all Keira had left; it was the only thing that kept the guilt from suffocating her. “You can touch whoever you want, Kona.”

She felt him stiffen behind her, then exhale, the breath cooling her hot skin. “I can’t. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

Hard thighs and the feel of rough denim against the back of her legs made Keira tremble and when Kona’s brushed one kiss on her shoulder that tremble transformed into a shudder. “You know why.”

Keira rolled onto her back so that she could look up at him and her eyes went directly to his cheek, to the bandage across his face and the bruise that shadowed behind it. She caught her gasp behind her hands, eyes instantly filling, then pouring with hot tears that she didn’t wipe away.

Kona caught each one, the undamaged side of his face denting with his tiny smile. “I’m okay. Seven stiches. It was nothing.”

“God. Oh, Kona.” Keira tried to cover her face, didn’t want to see it, didn’t want Kona to see how gutted her shame made her.

“Shh. Stop now.” She let him pull her hands down, let him kiss her forehead. She’d do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed and right then, he seemed to need her head under his chin, his fingers in her hair. “I deserved it.”

“What? No.” Kona didn’t resist Keira’s tug on his collar. He didn’t flinch from the rise of her voice. “No one deserves that. I’m so…I have anger issues. I’ve had them since I was a kid and I just…God, Kona…that’s not an excuse.”

His shaking shoulders stopped her, had Keira leaning away from him to look at his face. The left side was still numb, likely from the anesthesia the doctors gave him before they stitched it up, but the right side carried a smile, it was thin, but it was still there. “I think I figured that out a couple of months back when you came tearing into the cafeteria looking like you were going to claw my eyes out.” He took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “I’m familiar, Wildcat. You think I don’t have issues? You don’t think my anger isn’t as stupid and quick as yours?”

He touched her face, ran his fingertips over the dip above her lips. “I’m an asshole.” She didn’t disagree with him. “I shouldn’t have touched the redhead and I can’t touch anyone else because I don’t want to.” He leaned down to rest on his elbow, coming closer to her. “The thing is, I don’t wanna touch anyone but you.” Kona looked up at the ceiling as though he were seeking some sort of help from the heavens. “I’m gonna sound like a pussy whipped idiot.”

Keira pulled his head down so he had to look at her, breath held by where Kona was steering the conversation. “Why?”

“I want you. You know that. I want to do things to your body that are probably very illegal. But it’s not just that. Tonight, when that girl was on me, offering me shit that I’ve heard from a hundred other girls, all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you saying that shit to me.” He leaned closer. “But that would be too easy, right? Me taking you. Me inside you, that shit’s easy, Wildcat.”

“Don’t call me—”

“Baby, shut the hell up.” His kiss was deep, tongue brushing against her lips, silently asking to be let in and Keira obliged. In that moment, she’d give Kona her mouth, her body, anything he wanted from her. The kiss was over too quickly and when he pulled away from her, he left her lips humming. “You gutted me, telling me about your other options and when you did, I realized, I didn’t want easy anymore.” Kona’s voice got deeper, came out at a whisper and when he looked at her then, his eyes announced everything; told her all things she knew he couldn’t say aloud. “It kills me, thinking of you with anyone else. And I know I sound like even more of an asshole, but I think I’d kill anyone who touched you. That night, back at Nathan’s? The party? I saw you with your cousin, talking to Mark, letting him touch you, that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Knew that I didn’t want him touching you. That I wanted to touch you. You reminded me of that tonight. When you tossed me out, when you thought I didn’t want you, Keira, I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to be something you walked away from.” Another kiss and Kona let this one grow longer, deeper. When he pulled away, his breath came out uneven, panting. “I suck at this. Being with someone, letting them consume me. I was stupid, I’ve been stupid about you, careless, jealous and I thought I just wanted to get with you, to have you once and forget I did. But I know now, that’s not it.” Keira saw something flicker in Kona’s eyes, it made him look anxious, uncertain, but she touched his face, moved her thumb over his mouth and the gesture calmed him, seemed to steel him. “I’m…I’m into you, Wildcat. I’m so into you and I’m not sure what to do about that.”

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes on his, trying so hard not to let that bandage distract her from what he was trying to say. “So tonight made you realize you were into me?”

“No. Tonight made me realize I didn’t want to be into anyone else. I don’t care that we piss each other off. I don’t care that people don’t like it. I really don’t care that us being together makes no sense at all.”

“Kona. I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

Kona fingered the strap of her tank top, running his thumb underneath as though he need a distraction, needed something that pulled his attention together until he thought about what he wanted to say. Finally, with Keira waiting, wondering what kept the words stuck in his throat, Kona’s gaze returned to her face and he smiled.

“Be my girl, will you, Wildcat?”

She laughed, overcome by his vulnerability, by the hesitant way he kept his eyes shifting around her face. “You asking me to go steady?”

Kona smiled and Keira noticed that the left side of his face moved with the gesture, the medicine slowly wearing off. “It sounds stupid when you put it like that, but shit...yeah. Yeah, I guess I am saying that.” His fingers were long, felt warm against Keira’s cheek and she loved how gently he touched her, how those fingers rested against her skin like they belonged there. “I just want you. Do you want it to be just me and you?”

Their anger had been so thick, so consuming, and Keira knew that she was probably flirting with those bad decisions Leann was so worried about. As Kona waited for answer, eyebrows bunched together, Keira thought about their arguments, the careless way they never held anything back. It scared her. It scared her more than anything had before. “I want us to be normal. I want us not to scream and kick and try to kill each other.”

“Who the hell wants to be normal? Normal is boring. Everyone else is normal, but baby, that’s not us.”

She opened her mouth, planned to tell him that sometimes boring was the only thing that kept you sane, but Kona kissed her neck, threaded his fingers in her hair again and thoughts of being normal seemed beige and lackluster. She didn’t want beige. Beige is what her mother had, what she told herself she never wanted for herself.

“Come on, Wildcat, be mine, just mine and I’ll be yours.”

“I clock you with a bottle and you come here to ask me to be your girl? This is sane to you?”

“No. Not sane. Necessary. And I came here to tell you I’m an idiot and I don’t want anyone else. I came here because when you figure that shit out, you don’t want to wait.” Kona inched down on the mattress, head on her pillow and Keira couldn’t take the stare he gave, as though he needed her answer. As though it was the only thing that would keep him balanced. “Say yes. Please say yes.”

Kona Hale wasn’t the type of guy to say please. Not to anyone.

It was then that Keira decided to accept that she couldn’t refuse him. He made her so angry, brought back that little girl reeling from pain and loss, but Keira didn’t care. That girl wanted a little bit of joy. She craved it and so Keira rested on the pillow, face to face with Kona and gave him a smile that brought an easy light to his eyes. “Okay.”

His smile was crooked, but still beautiful, still hypnotic. “Good. Now roll over.” He kissed her again, quick, determined, before he nudged her on her back. “I wanna sleep with you.” When she gave him a look that was both eager and suspicious, Kona rolled his eyes. “I just wanna sleep with you, Wildcat.”

Now that the anger had waned, Keira couldn’t fight her yawn or the exhaustion that weighed her down. She turned on her side and smiled when Kona’s arm came back around her waist.

“Kona?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me that.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KEIRA

KEIRA KEPT AVOIDING the woman’s stare. She wasn’t surprised she was getting it. Her gaze went up, over Professor Alana’s face to the smattering of gray that grew along her temples and at the top of her scalp. Her ears protruded slightly, were large and long and her eyes were dark brown, a touch lighter than Kona’s. Surrounding those familiar eyes were creases that only deepened as she watched Keira; those eyes stared over square glasses that had slipped to the edge of her nose. There was an excess of skin around her nose, lines that pulled hard in a frown that made her large mouth seem broader, more pronounced. Professor Alana had the look of someone who had once been very beautiful but time and disappointment had transformed those soft features, made them sharp and severe.

The cool, quick frown and those big, dark eyes didn’t exactly make Keira’s history class pass by quickly, but she made attempts. The woman was her boyfriend’s mother. She tried smiling, doing her best to look sincere, but Professor Alana’s face remained impassive.

“Whatever,” Keira said, just above a whisper and continued to finish her exam.

The clock on the wall told her she still had five minutes and with only two questions remaining, she knew the exam was an easy A. Still, she could feel Professor Alana’s eyes staring, cool glances on the top of her head as she bent over her test. The woman was ridiculous and had acted, if possible, even more distant toward Keira since their small confrontation at the hospital. Kona had told her that his mother had taken issue with Keira talking back to her, ignoring her command that she leave them to deal with his grandfather’s surgery privately.

“She’s not big on outsiders,” Kona had mentioned when Keira complained about how his mother ignored her in class and how, on the rare occasions that she glanced at Keira, her expression was indifferently insulting. “My mom’s not generally a fan of, you know, couples like us.”

Keira hadn’t understood him, but she could tell by the way he tried distracting her with his mouth on the back of her neck—something he often did when he was trying to stay Keira’s irritation or get what he wanted—that Kona didn’t really care what his mother liked.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘couples like us?’”

When she’d pushed him away from her neck, Kona’s shoulders fell and he returned to his side of the Camaro. They’d been parked in front of her mother’s house, waiting for the lights inside to go dim. She didn’t want Kona to be meet her mom yet, she wouldn’t put that on anyone she liked, but Keira was getting low on cash and needed to hit the safety net envelope full of twenties hidden under her dresser.

“Um…biracial couples? Specifically, Polynesian and Samoan men that date white women.”

Keira’s mouth had slipped open and she felt cold, freezing despite the hard burst of heat coming from the vents. “Kona, you’re saying your mom is a racist?”

“No. Of course not.” He shrugged, trying to pull Keira across the seat and onto his lap.

“But you said…” she was staggered. She hadn’t ever really considered it an issue to anyone but the out-of-touch, racist idiots that made muttered comments from time to time when they were together in public. Those came mostly from older folks who must have forgotten it was the twenty-first century, or the random stranger in the grocery store. She wouldn’t have cared if his skin was purple with green polka dots. She wanted him. She cared about him, not the color of his skin and she was pretty sure Kona felt the same way. It had never been an issue for either of them. “You said she didn’t like us together.”

“She doesn’t want me dating haoles.” He cleared his throat, realizing the slip he made. The term itself wasn’t derogatory, Kona had told her it just meant “mainlander” or “outsider,” the few times he recalled some of the slang his family on the island used. Still, she didn’t like it and Kona knew that. “She’d just rather I be with a Hawaiian girl, Wildcat. That doesn’t make her a racist.”

Keira had learned Kona was a little stupid when it came to his mom. She caught him frequently defending her when she’d cut Keira a particularly hard glare in class. “Kona, anyone who doesn’t like someone because they are a certain race is, by definition, a racist.”

He relented, tried placating her. “Baby, I don’t care what she thinks.” He finally managed to pull her onto his lap. “Neither should you.”

Keira finished her exam just as the clock hit 9:59 and she followed the other students to the front of the class, depositing their exams on the professor’s desk. She looked over the woman’s head, not eager to catch her eye and be served another stupid frown, but as she turned around to leave the class, Professor Alana cleared her throat.

“Just a minute, Ms. Riley.”

Awesome, she thought, mentally preparing herself for what she was sure would be something dramatic and stupid.

“Yes?” she asked Professor Alana when she made it back to her desk.

Eyes on the retreating students, Keira assumed watching for the last of them to leave and close the door, the woman’s gaze moved to her face and then she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed tight, as though she was trying to restrain herself. It was a gesture she’d seen Kona do a hundred times.

“It’s my understanding that your GPA is now the highest in the class.”

“Okay.” Keira didn’t know where this was going, but the professor had made the statement as though it was more accusation than fact.

“I find it interesting that your performance in my class improved when you began, well, when you became friendly with my son.”

Keira closed her eyes, knowing the woman’s insinuation was weak, a stupid excuse to dig for information about what she and Kona were doing together. “Professor Alana, if you’re implying that Kona is somehow feeding me exams before we take them, then, I’m sorry. You’re wrong.”

“Then would you care to explain the sudden improvement?”

Silently, Keira started to count. Small numbers that were meant to help her control her anger, but as she watched the professor’s eyebrows extend and the stark dip of her mouth, Keira let her concentration from each number slip.

She leaned against the woman’s desk brimming with irritation. “My performance improved from the 3.95 average to the 4.12 average when the cross country season ended and I had more time to study. That freed up at least seventeen hours a week and I was able to devote more time to all of my classes.” She stood up, smiling when some of the professor’s conviction waned. “I carry 21 hours, Professor Alana, which means I have to find some way to study for a huge course load and yet, by some miracle, this stupid haole is able to maintain a 4.0, same as I did in high school when I graduated as Valedictorian. If you’re going to make assumptions and accuse me of cheating, then maybe you should have actual proof first.”

She didn’t wait for whatever was threatening to leave the woman’s mouth. Keira knew what this was about and she knew fighting with Kona’s mother because the woman wasn’t getting all his attention would only cause drama between them. Things had been great for the past three weeks and other than the occasional moody comment each of them made when practice and classes had them snapping at each other, she and Kona hadn’t fought once. She didn’t want his mother to change that.

She was almost to the door when she heard the professor’s chair scratch against the floor. “How do you know I don’t have proof? I’m a professor, Ms. Riley. Proof is fairly easy to come by.” There was a threat in that statement, one that made Keira pause, one that had her balling her hands into fists until her nails bit against her palm. There was no way she was going to let this woman screw with her grade.

Keira turned around, took the steps slowly, tilting her head to watch Professor Alana. “Why not discuss the thing that’s really pissing you off?” When the professor’s expression remained blank, Keira shook her head, finding it difficult not to laugh at how the woman seemed to force herself not to frown. “You want to know about me and Kona?”

“I want you to realize this won’t have a happy ending.” She left her chair, movements elegant, easy, before she sat on the edge of her desk. “What do you imagine will happen? You and Kona date through college and then what? You get married?” The women brushed her long, black braid off her shoulder and a weird flush colored her dark complexion. “Have children? Struggle when the pressures of his career and your lack of one chip away at something that should have never happened to begin with? I know what your intentions are, but I can promise you I won’t let you or anyone else threaten my son’s future.”

It took Keira a few seconds to let the professor’s words sink in. She and Kona had known each other for two months and had only been officially dating for less than half of that time. His mother had never liked her, even before she met Kona. Keira didn’t know or care why, but now she had them married with children in something that resembled a bitter, loveless union. Keira hadn’t even slept with him yet, much to her frustration, so why would she even be thinking about their future?

What the hell is this woman’s problem?

“Lady, get one thing straight about me right now.” She stepped forward and the professor’s easy lean against her desk became straight, uncomfortable. “I don’t give a shit about money and fame and all that bullshit. I don’t believe in marriage and I’ve known for a long damn time that happily ever afters only exist in Disney films. If you’d get your nose out of the air for five minutes, you’d realize I’m not some football groupie and I’m nothing like most of the girls on this campus. My plans are my business and if they concern a life with Kona, then great. Right now I like being with him and whether you believe it or not, he likes being with me.”

When the woman’s eyes slipped to narrow slits that barely revealed the whites of her eyes, Keira let her anger go, realizing that arguing with this lunatic was pointless. “This whole Oedipus vibe you’re giving off is stupid and pointless. I’m not trying to steal your boy from you and I have no ideas about the potential wealth he might have one day. I’ll make my own way. I always have. That won’t change just because Kona is in my life now.”

She was done with this woman. Done with the territorial claim she wanted to make over Kona. Keira turned on her heel, took three steps toward the door before the woman’s voice stopped her.

“You are an insulting, disrespectful brat, Keira Riley and I promise I can make things very difficult for you.” Keira looked over her shoulder, watching Alana as she stepped away from her desk. “Starting with your academic standing.”

It was rare that Keira used her “rich bitch” card, but this woman was trying to use her teaching position as a tactical advantage, trying to scare Keira with the flagrant threat of claiming she was a cheater. Instead, Keira let a wide, lethal smile pull her mouth until her cheeks ached. The Cheshire smile, as Kona called it.

“Oh, you can try it. It might actually be funny to watch you accuse me, of all people, of something I would never do.” She turned around and dropped down one step. “I can imagine you going to the dean, or as my mom calls him, Mikey. They’re second cousins. Did you know that? Or,” she said, taking another step, “maybe the Chancellor, you know, Uncle Bobby. He was my dad’s best friend in college. They were frat brothers and he made sure that I landed the room I wanted when I applied here and that my cousin and I didn’t get stuck in the smallest freshman dorm.”

Keira’s smile lowered but it wasn’t because she felt less confident or was no longer amused by the ridiculous way Professor Alana seemed to have been completely deflated as she fell back against her desk.

“You’re on a tenure track, right? I’m sure you’ve been working your ass off jumping through all those little hoops you academic types have to navigate to make sure you’re approved for the whole ‘job for life’ gig.” Keira used her fingers to air quote the phrase. “Let’s see, History Department…the head of the tenure committee would be Sarah Broussard. Nice lady who also works with the Alumni Services, specifically the fundraising board, an organization that my mother and her husband…you know, the cardiologist who saved your father’s life? Yeah, that’s him, well, they both donate substantially to the university.”

Professor Alana’s face had gone pale, but the shock didn’t make Keira feel good. She wouldn’t mention to the woman that Keira had nothing more than passing acquaintances with the people she mentioned.

“I want you out of my class.”

“Not a problem.” Keira had planned on heading to the History Department office for a drop slip just as soon as she left Professor Alana’s classroom, anyway. Keira jogged up the steps, but before she opened the door, she leveled one last warning at Kona’s mother.

“One more thing. If you ever threaten me again, make sure you’re ready for a fight. I might be a kid, I might even be a trust fund brat, but lady, I’m not a coward. I’m a CPU Legacy with a very bored mother who likes to start shit. I promise you, you don’t wanna mess with either of us.”

***

Keira was going to do something for love. Well, not love, she didn’t think. Not yet anyway, but she was going to do something she never thought she would because her boyfriend—she was still getting used to the term—asked her to.

She was going to a Blue Devils game.

Kona had been giddy, mildly ridiculous when she agreed and he promised her a great seat, two of them since Keira bribed Leann into going with her. She was fifty bucks poorer, and somewhat surprised at how excited she was to watch Kona play. Not that she’d tell him that. His ego was too inflated already.

The temperature was frigid for November, especially this early in the month and Keira pulled her scarf closer to her neck, leaning back when Leann slipped her hand in the pocket of Keira’s wool pea coat.

“Where are the tickets?”

She slapped her cousin’s hand away and reached inside her pocket to hand Leann her ticket. “Take this. I’m gonna go wish Kona luck. He said the team would be lining up a half hour before the game and the girlfriends usually come by for good luck kisses.” Leann looked at her like Keira was sporting horns and a halo. “What?”

“You. Oh my God. Are you turning into one of those sports groupies?” She stepped closer, grabbing Keira’s hand. “Are you gonna start following the team to all the games and then steal Kona’s sweaty, stinky jersey so you can wear it while you get off?”

“Shut up.” Keira looked around them, hoping no one had overheard her cousin and then decided she didn’t care if they had. Leann’s smile and high laugh had her returning the grin. She started to step away, but then pulled her cousin close, whispering in her ear. “FYI, I don’t need to jerk off. Kona does it for me.”

Keira loved the open-mouth, wind-knocked-out-of-her expression that crossed Leann’s face. It made her laugh and when her cousin called after her as she walked toward the locker room, that laugh only got louder. “Who are you? What have you done with my sweet, innocent cousin?”

“Some big Hawaiian corrupted her!” she shouted over her shoulder.

She was still smiling when she walked down the corridor leading to the player’s locker room, ignoring the looks she got the closer she came to the doors. There were girls sporting team jerseys, blue and white scarves and hats that made them look like everyone else in the stadium.

A few girls Keira recognized from the two times she’d gone back to the team house while Kona grabbed a book or changed his clothes before they went out. She’d never been in his room, never wanted to be in the place where he’d defiled one girl after another, but she had waited on the den sofa, sometimes with Luka, sometimes with a few of these girls staring her down in the corridor.

Feeling a little excited and still giggling to herself about Leann’s reaction, Keira wiggled her fingers to a particularly gawky girl as she passed the bathrooms. The brunette with tiny, hooded eyes rolled them at Keira and then she leaned next to her friend, hurriedly saying something that Keira thought sounded like “crazy bitch.” She didn’t care. Her time with Kona, their relationship, his rough kisses, his tender, sweet touches had transformed Keira so that the looks she got didn’t matter. She had Kona. He was all she needed.

There was a wave of blue and white, more girls, some blatantly gawking at her that filled around the locker room doorway, waiting for their men, or who they hoped would be their men. Keira hated leaning against the wall, hated that she was among the same vapid, eager girls who congregated at the team house hoping for an empty bed, but she kept her eyes on the line of players as the doors opened, ignoring the high screams and the grabbing hands, moving her head and gaze over each body, looking for Kona.

When the last of the players—Nathan and Brian who winked at her in between quick kisses—filed down the corridor and Kona still hadn’t emerged, Keira frowned, worried that she’d missed him. Gazing back toward the players and their following groupies, Keira was about to leave, to try and see if she could spot Kona before the players took the field, but the door opened again and Luka emerged, stopping short when he saw her.

“Keira.” He said her name like a point of fact, not a question that told her he was surprised to see her. Then, sounding oddly relieved, he said it again. “Keira.”

“Hey.” She met him just in front of the door worried when Luka’s expression read hard and anxious. “Where’s Kona?”

Keira had never seen Luka when he didn’t have a wide, welcoming smile on his face. But he stood in front her, head moving between her and the door behind him with his mouth set in a harsh line. There was something in his eyes, some small glint that Keira understood to be concern, perhaps indecision. He finally exhaled and closed his eyes as though what he was about to say pained him. Instantly, Keira’s thoughts went back to Lucy’s and the angry scowl Luka carried on his face when he pointed Kona out across the bar. When Kona took a shot from the redhead’s cleavage.

“Tell me.” When Luka didn’t quite meet her eyes, she jerked on his arm, bringing his attention back to her. “Who is she?”

His fingers went through his hair. It was longer, wavier than Kona’s and Keira absently wondered if Luka kept his hair long to stand out from his brother.

“It’s not a girl.” He took Keira’s hand, threaded his fingers with hers and sighed. “You need to know and, Keira,” he looked at her then, eyes glassy. Luka’s voice shook, like he could keep control of his emotion. “I just…” he rubbed his palms into his eyes and Keira caught his desperation, the weakened way his shoulders slumps. “I just can’t do this alone anymore. I need your help.”

“Luka, what…”

A nod toward the door and Luka rubbed his eyes against his palms. “He’ll hate me for this. He never wanted you to see.” She opened her mouth, was determined to get an explanation, but Luka shook his head and moved his palm to the small of her back, urging her toward the door. “Go.”

At first, she didn’t see him. The lockers near the door were the same garish blue of the team colors, too bright, too in your face. A quick flash came to her then, brought her back to that first week of the semester and Kona in the showers naked and moaning. Luka was behind her, keeping his distance and when she looked at him, needing some direction he nodded beyond the lockers, to the row of benches in front of them.

She took four long steps, hurried, anxious, then stopped on her next half step. Kona stood with his back to her, his pants and pads on, but his chest bare, his jersey, shoulder pads and helmet were on the bench next to a black leather satchel with a row of silver topped, glass vials. The liquid in them was thin, tinged yellow.

Kona didn’t know she was watching him. He was too focused on the skin pinched between his fingers and the needle that sunk into his flesh.

Keira covered her mouth, fingers already shaking, and a swift weight of disappointment, of disgust and fear sank in her stomach. Steroids. That’s what this was about. That stupid, arrogant idiot she couldn’t stop kissing threatened everything offered to him with those damn vials. If he was caught, being off the team would the least of his worries. There would be no pro career. There would be no future for him in the game he loved so much. Worse still, he was killing himself to be the best. The disappointment she held was nothing compared to her anger and the growing dread of what he was doing to his body.

“You stupid, selfish idiot.”

Kona jerked around, dropping the syringe to the floor when he heard her, eyes rounded and terrified. “What the hell are you…” he stopped when Luka walked to Keira’s side and that small flash of fright completely morphed into rage as Kona’s top lipped curled. “You motherfucker.”

Luka set his helmet on the bench in front of his brother, bending down to pick up the needle. “She has a right to know.” When he straightened, grabbed the leather satchel, Kona moved, slammed Luka right against the lockers.

“The hell she does! I told you to watch the door. You stupid asshole! I cannot believe you’d let her see!” Kona grabbed Luka’s jersey and his twin let him. He took what Kona gave him like it was an absolution, a punishment for being too weak to hide his brother’s sin. “Why would you let her see?”

“Because he’s worried about you.”

Keira’s voice had Kona dropping his hands from Luka’s jersey. He stared at her for a few seconds that felt weighted, that thickened the slap of tension in the room. “Keira,” he said, voice so low that she heard the warning in it. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t understand this so please,” he closed his eyes, as though tamping down the fuel of anger and betrayal that made his breath rough, “don’t you fucking judge me.”

All these months and Kona still didn’t understand her. And Keira thought, as Luka picked up the satchel and stepped away from his brother, that there was still so much Kona would never understand about her.

“Luka, give me a minute, okay?” He didn’t acknowledge her, but Luka did grab his helmet and shoved the steroids in a locker just behind them—Keira assumed it was his own locker—before he left the room.

Kona watched her, gaze flicking to every movement she made; when she took a breath, when she crossed her arms and stepped back from him. Keira could smell the musky stench already drifting from his body. Sweat covered him, was on his forehead, sliding down his neck and chest and he hadn’t even made it to the field.

Why would he do this? He has talent, he has options. Why is he throwing everything away?

So many questions ran through her mind and Keira decided only one would suffice. It would at least be a beginning. “Why?”

Kona picked up his jersey, fiddled with the straps on his pads. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

“Oh, I want the answers, Kona. You will give them to me.” She stood in front of him, not caring how her voice carried, or how the taunt of fury came out with each word. And then Keira kicked the pads off the bench. “I want to know why you’re so eager to throw your life away, to kill yourself.”

“That’s not going to happen. What I use is top of the line and I cycle carefully. I know what I’m doing.” When her frown only dipped deeper, Kona glanced at her, nostrils wide as he took in several deep breaths before he shook his head at her. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“Liver tumors, internal bleeding and a condition called peliosis hepatis, which will make your favorite pastime a little tricky considering most women wouldn’t be down for contracting Hep. God knows I wouldn’t.” There was something in the glare he gave her; it wasn’t pure anger, wasn’t completely cold and Keira recognized it. That was the same expression he wore anytime she tried convincing him she knew what size engine he’d put in his Camaro or how long she could hold her breath underwater. That was Kona doubting her.

“Senior year, Cameron Walsh, fastest runner in the school had a heart attack. He was seventeen, Kona. He’d been on juice since freshman year. He wanted to be an Olympian by the time he was twenty-five and instead ended up in the morgue. Coach made us visit former users who could barely get out of their chairs by themselves because their bones were too brittle to work anymore.”

“That’s not gonna happen to me.”

That’s what all those old juice heads had told her too. “I didn’t think it would get me. I thought I was invincible.” Kona never thought anything would touch him, most kids their age did and Keira had seen it herself in how fast he drove his Camaro and how reckless he was playing pick-up games with Nathan and Luka. He always played like every game was his last. He always lived like he knew tomorrow wouldn’t be waiting for him.

Keira wasn’t so confident, was often worried about how fast and easy Kona liked to live and she knew she’d never get through to him. “Your balls will shrivel up and you’ll probably never be able to father children.” An image of Kona old and lonely flashed into her mind, body frail, skin covered in acne scars. It scared her even more. It also made her want to slap him. “But then I guess that would make your first years in the NFL pretty exciting, right? Not having to worry about a string of baby mamas. That is, of course, if you can even get your dick hard.”

“Keira…stop…don’t…”

“Shrunken testicles. Not very attractive from what I hear.” She stepped back when he reached for her, knowing if he touched her, she wouldn’t be able to hold her fists. “But wait, you won’t have to worry about any of that. They don’t take users in the NFL and they drug test any incoming draftee. In fact, so does CPU.” Head tilted as she stared at him, Keira could see Kona hiding, eyes on the jersey in his hand. “How are you getting past that?” His eye flicked to the door and she understood. “Your brother is a good person.”

“I know that.”

“He’s a better man than you are.”

Kona kicked his shoulder pads, sending them flying across the locker room. “I fucking know that!”

She had to push back that ridiculous desire that rose up at his rage. This was different. This wasn’t them fighting out of jealousy or lust. Her fury at his stupidity was sticking and sharp and despite the undercurrent of wanting him, of fueling his already burning anger, Keira was too disgusted, too disappointed to acknowledge what her body wanted. She watched Kona’s trembling hands, the unrestrained way he released breaths through gritted teeth and she still could not stop herself from asking questions. “So answer me. I want to know why.”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“It matters to me, you greedy son of a bitch!” That small thread of patience, of resistance, snapped quickly and Keira swung, hoping her palm would leave a mark, hoping he could feel her slap despite all the dulling chemicals coursing through his veins. But Kona’s reflexes were heightened, and his response was swift. He grabbed Keira’s arms, jerked her against his chest and tried to kiss her. In the middle of this devastation, Kona tried to kiss her.

She jerked free of his touch and pushed herself away, raising a hand when Kona immediately darted toward her. “No. Don’t you dare.” Keira wondered how much time they had. The game would start soon and someone would come to fetch Kona and Luka, but she had to know. She was desperate to know why this beautiful, pigheaded giant would gamble his future, his life, on something so common and clichéd. “You tell me now.” She pointed her finger at him and Kona’s gaze moved right to that naked nail. “You tell me why you do this shit.”

“Because I need it. This Keira,” he said, slapping his bare chest, growling when she stepped away from him, “this is all I am. Bone and muscle and speed. This.” His fist on his chest, hard, stinging and Keira noticed the bright red mark on his tan skin. “This is all I am! I’m not smart, Keira. I need it. It’s what they expect of me. Be strong, Kona. Be fast. Be more, train harder, work, work until you can’t breathe.”

She didn’t know who he was speaking to, but it wasn’t to her. This was an exorcism, words and desperation and sheer fury that he seemed to need. His voice was so loud, his anger so heightened that Keira pitied him. It dulled some of her rage, but only some.

“Train and focus, fucking focus until you feel nothing but agony, until your fingers and hands bleed from the metal of the weights, until you don’t feel like such a punk failure! This,” three hard slaps against his chest, each one harder than the last, and the skin on Kona’s chest welted up, began to redden. “This is all I am! A body, Keira. A fucking machine. No one cares about me, not what’s in my head.” Kona’s voice broke, cracking and his eyes shone bright, glassy. “One body made to please—the team, the coach, women who don’t give a shit what I think, what I feel. There is only this body, this strength and if I don’t have this, I am nothing. If I don’t win, don’t tackle, can’t play, I have nothing.”

She could have held him then. She could have let Kona use what he needed to feel his best, to feel as if he had tried everything to excel. It would have been easy just then to cave. Kona’s face, drenched in sweat, hands and fingers still trembling like a dry leaf, it cost Keira greatly not to reach for him, not to give him even the smallest comfort. But she had heard excuses like this before. She had heard them a hundred times. “Daddy needs this, sweetie, to take away the pain.” At nine, she believed her father. Pretending to understand why he snorted white powder, why he drank from a bottle of Jack every night. He was weak and Keira grew up with that weakness; making excuses, defending him. The comfort she gave her father had not saved him and she knew it would not save Kona.

“You’re right,” she told him, two steps back, just feet from the door behind her. She would never be an enabler again. She wouldn’t have Kona’s blood on her hands too. “You don’t have anything.” Keira saw the sting of hurt in Kona’s eyes, saw how her words left him wounded, stricken. “You use that shit, you damn well don’t have me.”

“Don’t you even think about it.” Kona ignored how she held up her hands, trying to keep him away. He ignored her small yelp when grabbed her by the waist. His breath was hot, damp and on it Keira smelled that airy scent she loved so much, something primal, something that only smelled like Kona. “Don’t you walk out on me when shit gets heavy.”

She twisted away from him, but he barely let her put an inch between them. Still, she wasn’t scared. She knew that poison in his body could make him insane, could make him dangerous and she guessed, just then, that’s what he had been on the night she clocked him with the bottle at Lucy’s. Kona moved his head and Keira’s gaze flicked to his wide, desperate eyes and then down to the scar on his cheek. This time, the guilt did not come.

“I’m not going to watch you kill yourself.” She took a breath, was fueled again by rage and she pushed against his chest, stepping away from him until she was against the door. “One man I cared about chickening out on life is enough for me. I don’t want another one.”

He only stared at her, hands at his side and his face marked with hurt, confusion. She’d never told Kona much about her father. She felt that day and what she had endured was for private, for her alone, and in that locker room with Kona’s body marked red and his breath coming in short bursts, was not the time for history lessons.

Hand on the doorknob, Keira opened it. Kona’s steps were small and tentative, but she saw the threat of attack beneath his movements; in the shake of his bottom lids and the tremor moving his mouth.

“Goodbye, Kona,” she said, slipping out of the room before he could follow. She moved quickly, jogging down the corridor when she thought Kona would surely break from Luka’s hold, when she thought his loud screaming of her name would silence the roar in the stadium. Then, face wet and hot from her tears, she ran, ignoring the coaching staff and assistants as they headed toward the locker room, ignoring the loud, desperate call of her name behind her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KONA

KONA TRIED TO FIND HER. After the win. After his coaches and brother pulled him out onto the field. After Fleming played when Robins had enough of Kona’s distraction, the half-hearted speed of his hustle.

Kona hadn’t even cared that the cameras followed him onto the sideline or that they caught Robins’ screaming at him. Keira was gone. After she walked away from him, Kona forgot that he was supposed to be a winner. He forgot everything but how she looked at him. She was disgusted. She was disappointed. That hurt worse than Robins’ screaming at him on national TV.

Later, when they’d barely managed the win, Kona sat in Robins’ office expecting more of his yells, expecting the man to tell him he could kiss his spot on the team goodbye.

“The transition from first to second year is shitty, Hale.” Robins’ voice didn’t raise. The man didn’t seem as angry as he had on the field when Kona’s efforts were half-hearted, barely managed. Robins instead sat with his elbows on his desk and his fingers together, giving Kona a stiff frown. “It’s not every player that can hack it.” Kona couldn’t even look at him. He kept his eyes down, focused on the pitchfork and horns of the blue devil in the rug under his feet. “I gotta be honest, Hale. I thought you were one that could.”

“I am,” he said, though his voice sounded too weak, unconvinced.

“What’s that?”

Finally, Kona looked at his coach, sitting up straight. “I can hack it, Coach. I’ve just got to figure out some shit and then I’ll be good.”

Coach Robins moved his jaw, thumb and forefinger rested on the side of his face as he watched Kona. The man was thinking, Kona could see that clearly and he held his breath, counted the click of the old clock on the wall as the second hand moved around the face. Four, five, six…and then Robins released a sigh. “I’ve been there, son. Trust me. Women will hurt you, but sometimes if you’re lucky, you find the one that takes the shit away.” Kona closed his eyes, cursing himself and how easy he was to read. “You think you found that one yet, Hale?”

“I don’t know, Coach.”

“Then you haven’t. You’ll know when you do.” Robins backed away from his desk and opened the door, dismissing Kona with no more than a nod, but before he left that room, Robins tapped his shoulder. “You get your head on right and I’ll let you back on the field, but you’ve got some work to do. I’m gonna be hard on you, understand that now, but I think you got a shot, Hale. Don’t fuck it up.”

Fuck ups were something Kona was good at and he left his coach’s office thinking that a subpar performance on the field wasn’t the worst one he’d have to make up for.

Kona had tried Keira’s dorm the second he left the stadium, knowing even his teammates wouldn’t want him around at Lucy’s after the half-assed job he did that night. And Luka, well, Kona still hadn’t let the great well of anger and betrayal he felt toward his twin settle. He knew it would. He knew he’d have to let it go, but that night, as he drove to Graham, thinking of excuses to make to his Wildcat that didn’t sound stupid or pathetic, Kona decided he’d deal with his big mouth brother later. He had to see her. He had to take that disappointed frown off her face.

But Keira wasn’t at Graham. She wasn’t anywhere. Kona would wait, he thought. He believed she needed the night. She needed time. She needed to take a breath from him and he would give it to her.

He had not expected that wait to be so long.

Sunday he called and got no answer.

Monday he stood outside their English class, eyes alert, head leaning over the crowd, but Keira never showed.

By Tuesday, Kona was desperate. He searched the track, thinking Keira might need a run, but no one was there. He tried the library, the cafeteria, her dorm two more times, all the while blowing up her phone like his life depended on her answering. Still, no answer, no response. Even the girls in her dorm were tightlipped, which never happened when Kona flirted, when he flashed his smile.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, Keira was a no-show for English and Miller wouldn’t tell him why Keira had missed class again. He came just shy of knocking the man out, but decided that would do him no favors. He headed back to her dorm. He didn’t care that his huge body blocking the hallway outside caught stares, low whispers about him being a stalker. After four hours, Leann showed up with her man Michael, and Kona stood, shoulders square, heart pounding.

“Kona, she’s not here. She won’t be here for a while.” Kona barely registered Michael at Leann’s side, how the guy stood in front of her.

“I have to see her. Where is she?”

“She’s not here.” This came from Michael and Kona was mildly impressed at the way he looked up at him, like he wasn’t intimidated at all. The guy was a few inches shorter than Kona and, like everyone else, much thinner with less bulk. Kona thought he looked like a thug with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and a bad, poorly executed tattoo on the side of his neck. Prison tat, or one that was made to look like that.

Kona didn’t care that Michael looked like he wanted a tussle. He didn’t have time for that bullshit. He needed to find Keira. He had to explain.

“Leann, she won’t answer my calls. She didn’t show up to class this week and you know how much she loves it.” He took a step closer to her, hoping she caught the desperation he knew was on his face. “Please. I just wanna know if she’s okay. Is she sick? Does she need anything?”

“Listen, man, just back off,” Michael said, before Leann could answer Kona.

Hand on her boyfriend’s chest, Leann pushed Michael back and surprisingly, he retreated. “You tell me what happened, and I might can answer some questions for you.” In Leann’s expression, Kona saw confusion and a great bit of curiosity.

Keira hadn’t told her cousin what she’d walked in on. She’d kept his dirty little secret. That should have made Kona feel good. That should have had him relaxing, knowing that she still cared if she wasn’t telling everyone who listened what a dumbass he’d been. But all Kona felt, looking at Leann’s expectant expression, was stupid and weak and itching to rifle the campus until he found Keira.

Finally, when Michael inched forward again to do Kona had no clue what, Kona rubbed his neck, trying to find something he could say that would pacify the girl.

“I fucked up. I fucked up way worse than any time before.” Curious, he moved his chin at her. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing really. Just that you fought and she was done with you.” Those words felt like a knife straight in his chest, but Kona brushed the pain back, pushed it away until it was only a dull ache. “Then her mom called and…shit…” It wasn’t a total slip, but Kona caught the meaning and the fact that Keira would retreat to her mother’s house told him just how mad she was. She hated her mother.

“Thanks, Leann.”

“Kona!” the girl called as he moved down the hallway. “Don’t you dare go see her. Those people will eat you alive!”

***

Keira

HOW DARE you

Steal what’s left of me

The parts already thin

Toxic to my heart

Broken through my skin

Keira wanted to slam her Gibson against the wall. Nearly a month and the hook still would not come. It was the lake house, she knew. It was the confining walls of her girlhood bedroom and the constant pestering of her mother whenever her wine bottles were empty. Writer’s block was a myth, some excuse lazy people used when they weren’t producing perfection. Keira liked to think her block was more parental-related. Or, Hawaiian demon-related.

She hated being there. She hated that her mother never let her paint the pale pink walls or lose the ruffled blankets. She hated the white four poster bed and the lace on the canopy. She hated the stuffed animals arranged around the frilly white pillows against the headboard. She hated that her mother had not stopped asking why she was home and not at school. For the past four days. Every hour.

God, that woman was nosy.

In fact, the only thing Keira did like about this place was her balcony. Her parents had built this house just after they married twenty years ago. It was mammoth and brazen, way too much for three people, but Keira liked that it was nestled right on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain. She liked during the summers when her mother and Steven took their yearly cruise that she and Leann could lay out on her balcony and bake their skin. She liked that her French doors and the trellis down the side of her railings made sneaking out to be with her cousin and do things high schoolers did but had no business doing. She liked that on a full moon, she could sit out on her balcony, legs between the cast iron railings, hanging off the side, watching the glitter of moonlight over that water.

She’d take a thousand meddling lectures from her mother if it meant she got an hour looking out onto that water.

The doorbell rang, pulling Keira off her bed and into the en suite bathroom looking out of the window to investigate who had arrived so early in the day. Her mother and Steven were leaving that afternoon, another spontaneous trip to Atlanta that Keira suspected had something to do with how late Steven had been coming home from the city. “Smelling like something cheap and whorish off Bourbon Street,” her mother had told her. He did that often and each time, they took a week away and her mother came home with bags and bags of shit she would never use or wear.

Keira’s stomach landed somewhere around her knees when she saw Kona on the front porch, hand held over his eyes as he looked up.

“Shit.” She stood on her toes, stretching her neck to see him better but then the front door must have opened because Kona disappeared onto the porch and she heard the low murmur below. “Double shit!”

She couldn’t go down there, wouldn’t even attempt to interrupt whatever horrible thing she knew her mother would say to him. It was over. Done. She wasn’t going to see Kona again so the fuss she knew her mother would make was pointless. Keira had to let Kona go and though it made her feel like an asshole and a coward, she knew no one could make him run out of that house faster than her mother.

Still, that didn’t mean she let herself be kept in the dark.

She tried to be quiet as she lifted the window, hoped that the hinges wouldn’t squeak. But she had it up only halfway when she heard Kona’s voice, deep, tone polite.

“We have an assignment due next week and she hasn’t been in class. I was just checking on her since she’s been out. Um…ma’am.”

Oh crap. Mistake number one.

Her mother hated being called ma’am. In her mind, she still looked and felt like she was twenty. Thanks to her nutritionist and a great plastic surgeon.

“My daughter won’t be in class this week. I’d have thought Professor Miller would have told you this if you really were working on a project with Keira.”

She got on her knees, moving the small wood hamper directly in front of the window and she heard it then, that Kona grunt that told her he was losing his temper.

Keira could imagine what was happening downstairs. Her mother probably had a half empty glass of wine in her hand. She was probably still wearing those too tight yoga pants and the Gucci tank top. And Keira knew she was looking Kona over. He was impressive, caught the attention of every female with a pulse, but Cora Michaels wouldn’t be silently praising him. She’d be wondering how her precious daughter had lowered herself to befriend a boy “like him.” Like him generally meant not white, not local and not one of THEM.

Kona, on the other hand, Keira thought, would be attempting one of two things: either using that bright beautiful smile of his to worm his way into the house; or he’d be balling his fists up, feet apart and a constant rough growl working in his chest. Either way, she knew he wouldn’t cross the threshold. You just didn’t mess with Cora Michaels. You especially didn’t mess with her once she’d downed half a bottle of Moscato.

“Ms. Riley…”

“It’s Michaels, son. I haven’t been a Riley in a long time.”

He cleared his throat, covering another grunt. “My bad, Mrs. Michaels. I was just worried about Keira. She’s not answering her phone and…”

“Are you that boy from the hospital?”

Crap. Here’s she goes.

“Sorry?”

“You are, aren’t you? You’re that boy my husband told me Keira was with while he treated your grandfather. He said you two looked a little friendly.”

“We are…um…friends.”

Keira had to withhold her laugh. Kona was many things to her, but friend wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t like Leann. She didn’t spill her secrets to him, well, not all of them. He didn’t know who she was, not really. Not...really. At least, that’s what Keira told herself; it was the tiny lie that kept her from running down those stairs. “Friends.” But Keira was pretty sure friends don’t touch each other the way she and Kona did. Friends don’t hide things behind your back. They don’t lie to you. They don’t reach into your heart and squeeze down hard, trying to fracture the thin, barely-there fibers with lies and deception.

“How friendly are you with my daughter?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Because you know she’s seeing Mark Burke. They’ve been together for several months now.”

Keira wanted to crawl under the sink and hide. Kona knew better, he’d been with her more than Leann and he’d know there was no way she could fit in a date with Mark. Besides, Kona had won that round at Nathan’s and Mark had backed away without a fight. He had to know her mother was goading him.

“Keira and I are friends, Ms. Michaels,” he lied and Keira was grateful. She’d told Kona how ridiculous her mother was, how she wouldn’t understand their relationship. “It’s not my business who she dates. She was at the hospital when my grandfather was brought in and she was very sweet to me, helped me out when I had no idea what to do.”

There was a pause and Keira could picture her mother sipping her wine, allowing it to fuel her arrogance. Part of her was humiliated. She hadn’t wanted Kona to ever have to deal with her insane, drunk mother. That’s why she’d never asked him to come home with her for weekend. But she knew if she went downstairs, if she interrupted the verbal lashing her mother was preparing, then Kona would smile, would touch her, would call her Wildcat and all her defenses would crumble. He was good at that, the whole crumbling thing. Keira was weak around him. She didn’t have the strength to completely walk away from him. He was too consuming and so she kept herself in that bathroom, holding onto every word he spoke. She’d missed his voice, his arms, his mouth, those beautiful eyes. But she wouldn’t let herself cave. Her heart couldn’t take another break and she was so afraid Kona’s juicing wouldn’t stop. What he was doing to himself, to his future, to his life, would be what broke that damaged heart of hers until it was nothing but dead filaments.

“Well, as I said, she won’t be back to school this week. She’s not feeling well. We think she may have picked up that virus that’s going around. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we're busy and don't have time for random visits.”

“Can you please tell her I stopped by?”

“Sure.” The door slammed before the word had left her mother’s mouth. It took ten full seconds, which Keira counted, for her to hear the quick rumble of her mother’s feet on the stairs. Keira jumped down off the hamper and darted back onto her bed just as three quick taps rapped against her door. Her mother didn’t wait to be asked in.

“Keira, that boy…”

“What boy?” She wouldn’t give her mother an inch, but just didn’t have the energy to fight. She knew the lecture would come, but she’d take it in stride, just as she had with all the stupid meddling the woman had given her during the past four days.

“That Hispanic boy.”

“Diego?”

Her mother’s lips twisted into a purse and Keira had to bite the inside of her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “No. Not him. The other one. From the hospital?”

Keira lowered the book she was pretending to read and looked over it at her mother. “You mean Kona?”

“That’s the one.” She sat on Keira’s bed as though she was gently inquiring and not gearing up for an investigation. “He was just here asking about you.”

“Was he?” When Keira tried crack the spine of her book open, her mother jerked it out of her hand.

“It is rude to read while someone is speaking to you.”

“I think it’s ruder to interrupt someone while they’re reading.”

She pushed on Keira’s leg, giving it a soft tap with the book in her hand. “Sit up now.”

“Mother, I have no idea why Kona was here. We’re just classmates.”

Her mother was doing that weird, suspicious calculating sneer with her mouth—twisting again, but this time there was a definite pull on her top lip. “You would have not spent hours holding that boy’s hand at the hospital if he was just a friend and he would not have driven forty-five minutes outside the city, looking the way he did, if you were just classmates.” Keira hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but he must have taken extra care with his appearance if her mother noticed. She actually seemed mildly impressed. When Keira didn’t answer, when she pulled her knees against her chest and acted as though she had no clue what her mother was implying, Cora's weird sneer became exaggerated and she clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “I have told you once before,” now she frowned and the sneer became a scowl of disgust. Keira knew the “time before” she mentioned was her very brief rebellion with Diego, “it isn’t wise to befriend the wrong sort of people.”

“Wow, Mother, whatever do you mean?” Keira pulled her guitar off the foot of the bed and began to strum slowly. She did it specifically to annoy her mother. Just looking at her father’s guitar made the older woman’s face scrunch up in irritation.

“You know damn good and well what I mean. You are not to see boys like that. You are not to see boys that aren’t like us.”

Keira stopped strumming. “You mean you don’t want me hooking up with Spanish boys or Asian boys or Black boys or, like Kona, Hawaiian boys? Is that what you’re trying to say, Mother?” She gripped the neck of her Gibson to hide the trembling of her fingers. “Or is it not just the color of their skin? Do you mean I should just date boys like Mark, rich boys, privileged boys, boys in our social circle? Or, since you’re so hell bent on making sure I stay all, what? Aryan?” At this her mother’s mouth fell open. “Please clarify this for me, Mother. So you wouldn’t have a problem with me dating a boy who grew up in a trailer park as long as he was lily white?”

“Keira Nicole that is not what I mean at all.”

Keira let one tight laugh leave her mouth before she started finger picking her strings with her nails. “Then just what is it that you do mean? Oh, Mother, you’re a racist. Just admit it. We’re at home. No one is listening. If you’re going to have those opinions, then at least have nerve enough to admit you have them.”

“That is not the point.” Her mother stood from the bed and brushed one manicured hand over her pants. “I just want you to make smart decisions about who you associate with in college.” The woman had to speak over the strum of Keira’s fingers as she played faster. “Mistakes you make today will have adverse repercussions on you tomorrow. Try to remember that.”

“Yes, Mein Führer!”

Her mother’s face screwed up into another sneer, something ugly and insulted and Keira wasn’t surprised when she lunged forward, slapping Keira, once, twice, so hard her guitar fell off her lap. She could smell the wine on her mother’s breath, and she focused on that smell, pulling back on her anger, trying not to retaliate. It wouldn't do any good, her mother would fight back and she didn't care if she left evidence or not. Keira didn’t have the energy to make excuses for weeks about the marks on her face or how they got there.

She licked the corner of her mouth, relieved when there was no cut, no trickle of blood; she was almost happy that the pain radiated for her cheek and not her mouth. A slap mark would fade faster than a cut lip. It usually did.

Out of breath, her mother stepped back, pulled her knit top down from where it had ridden up over her thin hips, and brushed her perfectly styled hair out of her face, daring Keira with a stare to say something smart again. The girl knew better. “Mistakes,” her mother intoned coolly, for emphasis, in order to have the last word, “can last a lifetime, especially the ones you make when you’re young.”

Keira wondered if her mother was talking about her own mistakes. She wondered if loving her father felt like the biggest mistake of the woman’s life. If it did, that didn’t say much about Keira. If it did, that meant her mother had regretted having her as much as she regretted falling in love with a man who struggled to live out his passion. “Are you taking your birth control pills? Making sure you’re not missing?” When Keira nodded, her mother walked to the door, holding it open in one hand as she looked over her shoulder. “I know you think I’m backwards and stupid, Keira, but I really am looking out for you.”

Somehow, Keira doubted that her mother looked out for anyone but herself.

***

By three that afternoon, Keira was finally alone and her face had stopped throbbing. Steven and her mother swarmed out of the house, brief waves and longer warnings falling behind them as they loaded their car and headed for the airport. It was only then that Keira could breathe.

That is, until four o’clock when her mother was already on a plane and the heater broke. The weather had turned chilly, colder than it had been at the game the weekend before but it wasn't the cold she had to deal with. The heater managed to get stuck on high, at least 80 degrees, and Keira didn’t know how to turn it off.

So she spent much of the afternoon on her balcony, guitar on her lap as she tried to find that elusive hook. She poured all her thoughts, all those bitter, angry emotions she felt toward Kona into each chord, every word she wove together. But then, as if even nature were against her, dark clouds emerged, the skies opened up, and Keira was stuck in the sauna-like house while a cold rain fell outside.

The shower Keira took should have left icicles on her skin it was so cold, but as soon as she left the bathroom and dug in her dresser, her cold skin warmed and sweat began to pool down her back. She plucked an old Black Crowes tee that was grey and slightly threadbare from her drawer and decided she’d forgo any sleep shorts. She knew she’d likely be naked before the end of the night anyway. The room was stifling and Keira needed a distraction, so she turned on her stereo, skipping through the CDs already loaded and stopped when she came across a worn, overplayed track.

Dave Matthews. “Crash Into Me.” Keira loved the quick tap of the cymbals, right on the bell top and the slow rap against the low register of the guitar. It was a song that haunted, seduced in such an intense way, and most of the time she jumped the track back to the beginning to hear that intro again and again. But Dave Matthew’s lyrics, his hypnotizing voice also filtered into her skin, had the hairs on her arms rising. She’d always wanted someone to crash into her like that, to pay tribute to her body, to touch her with that much passion. Now she did. Or she had, past tense. Her chest felt tight, emotion clotting in her throat at the thought of anyone else but Kona touching her like that.

Keira felt the tears burn against her lids and cursed herself for being weak. Crying was something she thought she couldn’t do anymore. Not since her father’s cowardly retreat. But those past few months with Kona had reawakened emotions long buried and she hated and loved him for that. With her head down on her dresser, Keira felt the vibration from the speakers and she rubbed her face against her arm, feeling weak, feeling pathetic and supremely stupid since she was the reason he wasn’t with her now. She wouldn’t second guess her decision to leave him, but that didn’t mean she didn't hurt, that she wasn’t wounded by having to walk away from him.

Outside, rain slapped against the French doors that led out to her balcony and the lights above flickered, the erratic electrical current skipping the track on her stereo. Keira looked up, watched the feeble quake of the bulbs in her chandelier flicker and when they glowed, she pushed play again, setting the song on repeat before she turned off the overhead light and switched on her bedside lamp.

There was a huge clap of thunder outside, followed by the bright strike of lightening and Keira jumped in fright. She turned to look through the door onto the balcony to see if anything had been struck, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Kona standing on the other side.

“Shit!”

He was soaked, hair flat against his head, white t-shirt sticking to him like oil, looking like some feral god, and Keira had to force her eyes away from the outline of his body, from the hard contours of his chest and ripped stomach so she could make it across the room.

She was at the door and had almost reached for the lock before she remembered the self-warning from earlier that day—the one she had to repeat when her legs tried making her move down the stairs to save him from her mother. She couldn’t let him in. He’d kiss her, he’d apologize, he’d have her forgetting why she’d left him in the first place.

Keira pulled her hand back, stepped away from the door, before Kona splayed his hand on the glass, eyes low lidded as he silently begged her to let him in. He looked horrible. Dark circles bagged under his eyes, his body trembling in the frigid, wet weather outside and rivulets of rainwater coursed over him. “Let me in.”

It was hard to refuse him, especially when he looked so lost, but Keira managed a head shake, a quick refusal that had Kona balling his fists at his side.

“Wildcat, open the damn door.”

She hated his tone, the anger laced behind each syllable. He had no reason to be mad. That anger was for her, her tiny gift for having the stomach to walk away from him. Now Kona’s own anger turned to a threat when Kona slammed his fist against the glass.

“Stop it.” She walked closer and Kona’s eyes immediately scanned her face, moved down lower, to her chest, her hard nipples. She tried not to react to the way he was looking at her, to that simmer in his eyes or the long, slow lick he made over his lips. “Just go back to campus,” she said. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I have plenty to say to you. Now open the door before I bust the glass.”

He would never, she thought. Kona had a temper, same as Keira, but he wouldn’t lower himself to vandalism. Not just because she’d been hiding from him. She knew it was stupid to smirk at him, to offer that small challenge that told him she doubted him, but it seemed Keira always did stupid things when Kona was around.

One flash of anger moved across his face, worked his frown until his eyelids lowered and then Keira screamed, darting backward as Kona kicked his large foot against the pane of glass above the door handle.

Glass shattered across her floor, small chunks that Keira had to avoid as Kona slipped his hand in and unlocked the door. “Are you out of your mind?” Her attention was on avoiding the glass, moving away from it so it didn’t touch her bare feet when Kona walked into the room, rainwater still streaming over his face and off his hair like melted ice. “You’re freaking lucky I hadn’t set the alarm.”

Kona didn’t seem to care about alarms or disturbing the neighbors. He didn’t care about anything but crunching the glass under his feet to get to her. His wet hands felt good on her arms when he touched them and Keira tried not to enjoy the feel of his cold body against her when he hugged her. “Fuck, baby, I missed you.”

“Stop it, Kona,” she told him, stepping out of his touch. “I’m serious, you need to leave.”

She needed a distraction, something that would pull her gaze away from his body, away from the anxious look in his eyes. Keira picked up the towel she used earlier and tossed it to him.

“I’m not like you,” he said, wiping his face and hair dry before he dropped the towel onto the floor. Another step and Kona had her against the dresser, hands resting near her hips. “I can’t just walk away and feel nothing. Not when it comes to you. I’m not heartless that way.”

“Oh and I am?”

“Hell yes you are. You take everything with you.” Kona pulled her damp hair between his fingers, squinting against the faint light in her room, but Keira lifted her chin, wouldn’t let that touch weaken her anger. Kona dipped his head, let it rest on her shoulder. “Everything gets dark. That’s cruel, Wildcat. You’re so cruel sometimes.”

She pushed him off of her, and Kona went back two small steps. She hated the smile he gave her, hated that he was trying to charm her. “Fuck you, Kona.”

“You wanna?”

“That’s not funny. None of this is funny!” He started to reach for her, but moved his hand away when she slipped toward the foot of her bed. “You’re killing yourself and I’m not going to watch you do it.” Keira thought that should settle things. She thought her voice was strong, determined, that the grip of the door in her hand when she walked to it told Kona enough, told him she was done talking. There was a slight feeling relief on her skin from the heat of her room with the door opened. “Get out.”

Keira thought that expression on Kona’s face told her he would leave. She thought his quick movement toward the door guaranteed he was done trying to convince her they belonged together, but then Kona pulled the door out of her hand and slammed it shut. “I don’t run. You haven’t figured that out about me yet? I don’t run away from my shit.”

“And I do? That’s what you think?” It was an insult that cut deep, that had her anger resurfacing quickly, that reminded her that Kona had no clue what she was running away from or why. Keira couldn’t make her hands stop shaking, couldn’t stop herself from shoving against Kona’s chest, from wanting to lash out at him. “I’m trying to protect myself. I won’t let you hurt me.”

“I would never hurt you. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Except for juice? Except for wreck your body? Except for slowly kill yourself? Bullshit Kona.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like…”

“Oh I know what it’s like.” And then, Keira was nine again, desperate, scared, angry. She was ten and hopeless, feeling like her lies had failed her father, like she had been the one to pull the trigger. “I know what it is to call 911 because your father passed out with his face in a heap of blow. I know what it’s like to clean that shit up before the ambulance arrives because you can’t have your daddy in trouble again, to be a kid and still understand that the doctors in the ER could be bought.” The hot tears on her face didn’t register, it was second nature to rub them away. “I was a kid and had to catch three buses to make sure they got paid off. I know what’s like to make excuses, to tell your mother he had too much cold medicine, too much Jack, and that’s what made him almost die, not the blow, not the bottles he hid under the sofa, not the shit he did to himself.” Kona reached for her, but Keira didn’t want his comfort. She told herself she didn’t want him and when he tried again, stretching his arm toward her, she slapped his hand away, getting angrier, full of rage she knew had little to do with Kona.

“He was everything to me, Kona and I loved him so much.” Keira closed her eyes, squeezed them tight as she tried to blot out her father’s smile, his happy laugh when he played; his still body, cold, lifeless as he lay in that coffin. “I won’t do that again. I…just can’t. I don’t ever want to watch that again.”

“I’ll stop. Right now.” His voice followed her as she walked around her room. Keira felt the pent up knot in her chest and needed something in her hands to release it. She was only half listening to Kona then, looking for something she could destroy. But he continued with his promises, with pointless words that had him stepping closer, trying again to touch her. “Right this second, I’ll stop for you, Wildcat. I won’t let another needle break my fucking skin. I promise.”

That thick knot in her chest broke free, shattered right along with the growl she released and the framed picture of her father that she threw right at Kona’s head. “Don’t make promises, Kona. Don’t tell me you swear you’ll do something. I’ve heard enough promises to last a lifetime. I’ve made enough excuses. I don’t have it in me to make anymore. You need to leave.” She felt the safety glass on the floor crunch under her feet when she turned toward him. It didn’t hurt. It did nothing but release her fury. “You need to forget you know me.”

Kona was so like Keira, and she thought that similarity was likely why he wanted her in the first place. They were both angry, both broken and when he released his own frustrated, angry growl, it didn’t bother her. It mirrored her own anger. But Kona got too close, threatened her too easily with his face inches from hers and when he spoke, his words muffled any release her outburst had given her.

“I’m not your father.”

The slap came hard, quick and stung her fingers. But it wasn’t enough, hadn’t even managed to make Kona flinch. His head hadn’t moved and so Keira tried again, another slap she hoped would shock him, would have him retreating. When Kona continued to glare at her, eyelids lowered and the usual angry tick vibrating his top lip, Keira tried again, reaching back further to hit him. Kona was ready, jerked forward and grabbed her hand before it made contact with his face.

“I can take whatever you give me, sweetheart. You wanna hit me? Do it. Do whatever you need to, only don’t tell me to walk away from you. That’s something I can’t do.” Feeling useless, Keira tried pulling her hand out of his grip, but his fingers tightened around her wrist and he hauled her forward so that she stumbled against him. “Come on! Do it! Slap me, punch me, hit me!”

It was useless to fight him. Keira felt drained, pitiful and even as she fought out of Kona’s grip, she knew she’d never get him to leave. She knew she’d have to lie, to sting, to trick him into leaving. “Stop it. Just go, Kona. Just leave me alone. I don’t want you. I don’t need you.” She pulled against his hold again, bringing her eyes nearly closed, making sure her frown was sharp, biting. “It’s over!”

That verbal blow did sting and Keira knew she’d finally gotten through to him. Kona dropped her wrist, but he didn’t walk away. Keira could see the return of his fury, the quick lick of anger that had softened at her outburst. Kona grabbed her shoulders, fingers biting down, breath hard, uneven before his hands fell to her hips and he picked her up and threw her onto the bed.

Almost immediately, he was repentant. Those big, dark eyes widened, his hands shifted through his hair like he wanted to yank out each strand. He took a step, then must have thought better of it before he covered his mouth. “Oh my God. I just…Keira …”

She wasn’t angry. She didn’t know how it happened or why, but Kona’s action twisted something inside her, pushed aside the anger, the grief and that warped, wild part of her brain that made her attack Kona that night at Nathan’s came back to the surface. As she stared at his shocked face, the expression that told her he couldn’t believe he’d lost it, Keira felt the sweet zip of energy between them; it pulled her nipples tight against her shirt. It had her clit throbbing against the thin fabric of her thong. It made her wetter than she’d ever been in her life.

“Kona.” Keira’s voice was deep, sounded nothing like her. Kona’s wide eyes stretched when he looked at her, when they shifted down at her nipples. “Come here.”

Two long strides had him in front of her, had his arms around her. “I’m sorry. Wildcat, I’m so sorry…”

“Shut up…kiss me.” She yanked on his face, nails biting into the back of his neck. “Now.” That kiss pulled everything from her mind; her broken father, her mother’s drunken anger, Kona’s lying, everything that wasn’t his wide tongue and full lips. All Keira felt was his hands on her ass, pushing her closer to him, his teeth against her neck.

Keira pulled him back against the mattress by his collar, loving how heavy his body felt against her. She was still reeling from that bright spark of rage only Kona could ignite, but he tugged up her shirt, his teeth against her nipples was too much, too drugging and Keira let go of her anger and let it pour out of her, not caring that she was scared for him, not caring that his promises were pointless and hollow. She only knew she wanted him. She only knew that she needed his touch, his mouth, his heart.

She hadn’t worn much after her shower, a thin t-shirt and small thong and so it was not difficult to have herself open and naked before him and when Kona raised up, pulled his damp CPU t-shirt over his shoulders with one hand, Keira moaned at just the sight of him, so ready for her, eager to have her.

She was calmer then, too intoxicated by the way he looked at her, by the mingle of rain and sweat on his body. Keira watched him, stared into his eyes as she reached one hand down his chest, over that sculpted stomach until she came to his waistband, fingers against the button of his jeans, moving the zipper down, one tantalizing metal tooth at a time.

This was where he usually stopped her. He’d been so careful with her before then, never letting her touch him where she really wanted, telling her if she did, he’d be unable to stop himself from taking her. Now he did nothing but stare down at her, breath in hard, labored bursts, teeth gritted as she pushed his jeans over his hips and wrapped her long fingers around his impressive, throbbing dick.

“Shit,” he said through his teeth. That long vein on his neck throbbed and Keira got to her knees, licked against it, up his neck.

“You don’t have to hold back, Kona.” She took his ear between her teeth as she continued to rub him, each stroke making a shudder work in his chest. “I don’t want you to stop me.”

“Keira…shit.” He moved his hands in a flash, one going into her hair, pulling her head back so he could look at her in the dim light of her lamp, shadowing their faces; the other grabbing her wrist to stop her movements. “I swear to Christ, I can’t take you touching me. I want you too much.” Kona squeezed his eyes shut when she stroked him once more. “Five…five minutes ago you wanted me out of your life.” He pulled on her hair again, directing her mouth closer to his. “Now you wanna touch me? Now…now you want me? I don’t work like that anymore, Wildcat. Not with you. I…I love you too much to not want all of you.”

Keira pulled her hand back, and moved out of Kona’s grip, heart beating so quickly that she could feel the drum of it on her temples. “What did you say?”

Kona’s expression went soft, open and Keira loved the way his smile came easy, how his thumb rubbed over her face. She could only make out the faint outline of his shoulders, his hair, but she felt him. She felt him everywhere. “I love you, Keira and if we do this, right now, there will be no turning back. If you let me have you, that’s it for me. That’s it for you. I’m yours. Is that what you want?”

Dave Matthews still sang in the background, repeating over and over, and here Kona was, promising to crash into her, promising her all the things she didn’t know she wanted from him. He would be the end of her, she knew that, just then, in that moment. Kona Hale would love her, she didn’t doubt that, but would he stay? Would he break her heart again and again? She didn’t know if she could survive the destruction he’d leave behind if he left, if he broke her and left. She didn’t know if she was willing to gamble again, to risk the loss that love always brought.

“I…will you stop using? And don’t tell me you will just for me to say yes. I need you to be straight with me.”

“Fuck the juice, Keira.” He pulled her close again, breathing on her face as he dipped his forehead against hers. “You’re all I need. Just you. I’ll walk away from all it if I have you.”

“And…other girls?” She knew she sounded whiny, but the thought had not left her. It was the first thing that jumped into her mind the weekend before when she walked into the locker room. She couldn’t completely let go of Kona’s past and sometimes the thought of how many of those glaring idiots had touched him was just too much for her. “What about…”

Kona silenced her with a kiss and she didn’t fight him, couldn’t even if she tried. Too soon, he broke the kiss, his hand directing hers right over his hard length. “This…this is yours, Keira. No one else touches it but you.” And then he cupped her, those large fingers right on top of her throbbing center. “And this, this is mine.” Then Kona pulled his hand away, took her fingers and placed her palm over his heart. “This, sweetheart, is yours.” His hand felt warm on her skin and Keira wondered if he could feel how hard her heart pounded when he rested it there. “This beautiful, wild thing right here…it’s mine. Why don’t you stop worrying about what happened in the past and just take what’s yours?”

Keira knew she was being careless with those walls she’d constructed around her heart. They were rubble by now anyway, and Kona was an addiction, but he was also the only person in her life who would fight for her, who looked at her and didn’t see the mask she wore so no one knew who she really was. Keira took a moment, one small breath before she looked at him again.

“Whatever I am, it’s yours.” He smiled and it was genuine, real, an expression that told her he was relieved, that eradicated that knot in her chest.

Keira didn’t want foreplay; she’d had weeks of it and all the dancing they did to avoid what was about to happen had left her exhausted. She pulled Kona closer, back against the mattress and Keira used her feet to push down his jeans and boxers.

Kona moved quickly, shuffling off his Nikes and jeans, a scramble of movements until he was finally naked. When he reached for her, wanting her closer, Keira stopped him, pushed him back. She wanted to see all of him.

“Go ahead and check him out,” he said, laughing at Keira’s wide eyes. “That expression is priceless, Wildcat.”

“This body is priceless.”

Keira cut off Kona’s laughter, made it shift into a moan with her fingers trailing down his large chest and her mouth over one nipple. She liked the breathless gasps he made. She liked how responsive he was, how every flick of her tongue against his skin had his breath heavier, had low, deep sounds rumbling in his throat.

Keira rested against him, breasts sliding down his stomach until she lifted up, reaching for him, taking him in her hand again. He was beautiful everywhere and his dick was no exception. He was long, very thick and at full attention, the head came to his navel. Fleetingly, Keira wondered if he would hurt her, it had been a year since she’d been with anyone and even though Kona had often touched her, stretched her with his fingers, it wasn’t the same. His fingers were big, but they wouldn’t touch as deeply as his dick. They’d never scared her.

She didn’t wait, didn’t push back the urge to taste him. When she did finally taste him, when the slow drag of her tongue went up the underside of that hard dick, Kona threaded his fingers in her hair, moaning, his grip tightening as she made tentative touches with her tongue and mouth. She’d never done this before. There had never been much time or opportunity or desire to play with Diego, and Kona had never let her get this close before.

He was tangy, the skin of his cock miraculously smooth like silk, and Keira wanted more, loved the taste of him, loved the power she felt when he reacted to just small flicks of her tongue and the tight suction of her mouth. When she used her hands, rubbing up from the base, Kona released the loudest moan she had ever heard him utter.

“Nope. Okay. Shit. That’s enough.” He pulled her up by the shoulders, flipping her over until he was on top of her. “Wildcat, I can’t take that.” He kissed her, took her bottom lip between his teeth for a soft nibble. “Your mouth is a miracle and I don’t wanna come until I’m inside you.”

She laughed at his expression, at the heavy sigh he released and pulled on his chin when he started to kiss her chest. “Then get inside me.”

Kona made a noise, somewhere between a whimper and a growl, but he cleared his throat, covering how her words had affected him. Then, he scrambled off the bed, dug in his jeans for his wallet. His strong, wide back was toward her, before he finally turned around and that beautiful dick was covered with a condom.

Some of the confidence went out of Keira. As Kona crawled back toward her, that long appendage slapping against his flat stomach, that thick hardness that was going to bury itself inside of her, she swallowed back the bundle of nerves clotting in her throat.

“What’s the matter, Wildcat?” Kona lay on top of her, held her hip with his long fingers. “You nervous?” She could only manage a nod and Kona smiled, moving his mouth to her neck, down her shoulder, kissing lightly. “We don’t have to do this. I can wait.”

“No!” She panicked at the thought. He laughed at her excitement and that touch on her hip got tighter. “No,” she said, voice a bit calmer. “I want you, Kona.” He looked at her, smile gone, expression relaxed. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and weeks.” Keira exhaled, moving the hair off her forehead. “It’s just been a while and you’re so…” She flicked her eyes down then quickly back up again. “You’re a lot bigger than I expected.”

“Ha, sweetheart, you’re good for my ego, but it’s just me.” Kona kissed her again, slipping just the tip of his tongue into her mouth before he pulled away. “I’ll be easy with you, Wildcat. I’ll be so slow and good, but maybe this will help.”

Kona’s hand left her hip, slipped between her thighs easily and he coaxed more wetness from her, teasing her lips, taking his time to touch her clit. Keira shuddered, held her hand against his wrist as he continued and Kona took her lead, rubbed once more over her clit before he slipped two fingers inside her. He’d learned her body in the past few weeks and Keira had been grateful that she didn’t have to tell him what she wanted, what felt best. He always seemed to know.

His mouth was warm, tongue eager as he kissed her, as those large fingers curled and his knuckles touched the spot that sent her mind swimming. He never had to touch her for long, always knew exactly how to read the lift of her voice, the collection of sounds that gave away just how good she felt when he touched her. That night was no exception. Just a few sure rubs of his knuckles against her G-spot and Keira was flying, hips off the mattress as her body chased that orgasm.

“Beautiful. Every time, Wildcat. So beautiful.” Another kiss against her neck, with Keira still spinning on the crest of her orgasm and Kona slipped inside of her. “God…” Kona moved his hips slow, barely moved an inch and already Keira felt full, felt she couldn’t be stretched any further. When slid deeper, she hissed, not from the pain but from how sensitive she already was. “You okay? You want me to stop?”

“No,” she told him, opening her eyes so he’d know she wasn’t hurting. “God, no, please keep going. You just fill me up. It’s so good, baby.”

Kona stilled inside her and a small quirk of his mouth told Keira he was pleased. “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that.”

“I’ll say it again just to keep that smile on your face.”

Then Keira lifted her legs, wrapped them around Kona’s hips and she let herself be filled as he worked inside her. Everything about Kona was huge; his body, his voice, his presence and all of it filled Keira’s room as well as her body, moved around them and through them and she felt high, so high on him, on the sensation of him moving inside of her, his hands on her breast, his fingers clasped with hers as he lifted her hands above her head on the pillow and pinned them there.

Sweat pooled over their skin, met together in the twist of their bodies and when Kona stared down at her, kissed her like her lips would give him breath, Keira shuddered, squeezed against him. The light was thin and Keira could only make out the outline of his features, the small glint in his eyes and it was too much, too overwhelming, but she would not run this time, she wouldn’t tell herself she could do without this. Not again. Not anymore. She belonged to him. Her body, her heart, no matter how beaten and worn it was, belonged to Kona Hale.

Keira squeezed against him again and Kona stilled, stared down at her with a smile that told her he wanted to control this, lead her. “Don’t squeeze,” he said, pulling her hips up, hitting inside her deeper. “If you open up, baby, go wide for me, relax, I can make you come hard, I can make it last for you.” A slow thrust, deeper, harder and Keira arched against him, relaxed her inner muscle even as she throbbed against him. “Perfect, so perfect.”

It was deeper this way, freer somehow, letting Kona move them, letting him control the moment and Keira held onto Kona like he would anchor her, keep her from floating above herself.

“Let me have your orgasm, baby. Give them to me completely and I’ll make it so, so good for you. I’ll take care of you when you shatter against me.” And Keira listened, guessed that this is what Kona needed—that slip of control she gave him. She pushed out, relinquishing herself, her body to Kona, rather than closing off, pulling in and the effect was substantial. He moved in closer, worked faster and Keira let herself open, relax until that heavenly sensation came upon her, urged on by Kona’s strong hands on her hips, his wide dick touching all the way inside her and when the orgasm came, it mirrored her heart—free, unyielding, explosive.

“God...,” Kona said, voice rising higher and higher with each grunt he made, hips slamming into her hard, fast, faster, and Keira knew he was hitting his crest. Shoulders shaking, hips pumping faster and faster, Kona released a groan, filling her, throbbing inside her as he came.

Then he pulled his hand from hers and held the back of her neck, stared down at her with his thumb on her cheek. “This is always, Wildcat. You… you’re my always.”

***

Kona

THE RAIN HADN’T STOPPED. Kona heard the slow thump against the makeshift patch he’d fashioned out of duct tape for the broken pane of glass on the French door. He felt like a jackass for kicking it in, but at the time, his thoughts had been on touching Keira, on holding her to make all her doubt vanish. He’d watched her with rain pouring over him, flooding his skin and he hadn’t felt a thing but the quick whip of anxious energy that made him kick in that glass.

Keira had looked so scared, so wild, so lost. She’d told him more than she ever had, about the loss of her father, the events leading up to that, and it broke Kona’s heart. There was something about her that made him want to protect her. He’d felt it that first night outside her dorm when he ran up to that asshole attacking her. The sensation of taking all that shit, all that pain from her had only increased the harder he fell for her, and that night with her raging at him, with her screaming secrets about what she’d done for her father, crippled him, had him wanting to cover her with his body just to hide her from the world. More pain would come, no one gets through it without feeling life’s bite, but Kona would kill himself to make sure he’d didn’t give Keira any of that pain himself.

A clap of thunder rattled the French door and Kona blinked, squinting, then frowned when he noticed Keira wasn’t in the bed with him. He came to his side, looked around her room, to the girly decorations littered around the room, the random collection of stuffed animal on the floor and he left the bed, pulling his damp jeans on.

“Keira?” he called into the en suite bath, but when he stepped inside, he only found a wet tub and two towels drying on the side of it. The whole room smelled like her, jasmine, sweet and just the scent made Kona hungry for her.

The house was ridiculous and he felt awkward and uncomfortable in the hallway, taking the stairs down, looking at the empty walls and the random décor that reminded Kona of a house that had never been lived in.

He was thinking of the difference in where he grew up and this place, shaking his head at the soulless opulence, at how pristine and orderly everything was, when the sound of a piano in the next room pulled his thoughts toward Keira.

He had been hoping he’d hear her sing. Up until now, Kona had only caught snatches of her voice, low hums and muffled songs through her dorm room wall, but he had always wanted her to sing for him. He wanted her eyes on him when she played, for her to voice the words only for him - but he wouldn’t push, knew he couldn't push.

“Music,” she’d once told him during one of their long library sessions, “is personal. The stuff I write is for me because it’s part of who I am. I don’t show just anybody who I am, Kona.”

The song she played was slow, soft tickles of the keys that had Kona closing his eyes, had his throat buzzing. As he walked barefoot over the hardwood, he made sure his steps were light, that he didn’t disturb her as she played.

Kona leaned against the wall, tilted his head to watch her. The den was an obnoxious, wide room that veered into two spaces. One side was for drinks and TV watching, he assumed, the other for staring through a floor to ceiling wall of glass that looked out onto the lake. Plants in heavy, wooden tubs were situated in each corner and thick rugs were flung over the dark wood floors; a huge mahogany entertainment center was off to the right. To the left was a brown leather L-shaped couch, plush and pillowed, chenille throws on the arms and across the back. But it was what was in the center of the room that caught Kona’s attention. Separating the two seating areas was a baby grand piano, black, shined to a high gloss with gold wheels and pedals, and “Steinway & Sons” embossed on the face in gold leaf. Keira sat in front of it in nothing but a thin, white robe that fell further off her shoulder the longer she played.

Kona couldn’t remember seeing anything more beautiful.

He watched for several minutes, loved the long, planes of her neck, the defined arch of her shoulders, but would not approach, wouldn’t touch. The song was familiar, something he didn’t think she’d written, and as she continued, humming just above each note, Kona realized it was, “Dark End of the Street,” a song his mother often sang when he was a kid.

Another pass of thunder rolled and a streak of lightening broke through the dark morning skies. Keira turned to watch through the glass wall, fingers still dancing across the keys and that’s when he saw it; the long bruise across her cheek. He felt sick, instantly thinking that somehow he’d left it on her face, but he couldn’t remember touching her, not like that.

He let the flashes of memory from the night before sort and play in his head, remembering nothing but the feel of her skin, the smell of her, how tightly she clamped around him, how being buried inside her felt like home, freed him, how it felt like a high. But none of those flashes explained that mark on her face.

Kona shot for calm, for patience, as he crossed the room, kneeling behind her. He wouldn’t bombard her with questions; he didn’t want to fracture the peace that swam in the house since the moment he told her he loved her. It had been spoken so easily, a second nature that felt instinctive, necessary. Honest.

Keira continued to play, the slow refrain of “Dark Side of the Street” eerily haunting, mesmerizing, but she arched her neck, let her head fall to his shoulder and Kona got a better look at the bruise. Two long, purple lines, faint, but clear. Finger marks. Thin, feminine finger marks.

Motherfucker, he thought, trying to calm the fury building, the mounting speed of his heart.

Her eyes were closed, her smile easy, content, and Kona hated to pull her out of that emotion, hated that those moments of happiness Leann mentioned had been fleeting, were fleeting. Keira deserved happy. She deserved a hell of a lot more than the shit her mother gave her.

Cautiously, he leaned forward, barely touched his lips to the bruise. Even that careful gesture made Keira wince.

“Baby…”

“It’s not a big deal.” That sounded too practiced, thrown out too casually, like she’d spent years brushing off marks and scratches she'd received. But even as she uttered the platitude, Keira lowered over the keys, head resting against the top of the piano.

Kona couldn’t take her silence or the small shaking movement of her shoulders as she cried. “I’ll kill her.”

Keira laughed, but it was harsh, mixed between tears. “You can’t kill the devil, Kona. Trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

He slid next to her, pulled her onto his lap and Kona kissed her face, drying the moisture as quickly as it surfaced. “You can’t stay here.”

Keira pulled away from her comfortable spot on his chest, her eyes glassy and an expression on her face that made him feel small, made him feel like she thought he was naive. “Where would I go?” She wiped her face dry. “Your house? Bet your mom would love that. The team house? My dorm? Everything is temporary, Kona.” He closed his eyes when Keira brushed her fingers against his cheek, thumb rubbing over the scar she’d put there. He hated her frown when she looked at it. He hated that she felt so guilty, still, even after his goading. “This scared me. I did this to you. I lost it. How many times have I slapped you? Just last night…” She tried taking her hands from him, tried pulling away and he meant to stop her, to cover her wrists so she’d keep her touch on him, but then Keira smiled, kept her fingers against his face as though she needed the contact. “Am I any better than her?” Her voice broke and the wobble of her chin, that pained, crumble of her smile gutted him, had his own eyes burning.

“Baby…” He pulled her close, held her as she cried and he felt the slow trickle of her tears on his bare chest. He cleared his throat, tried to remove the knot that made him sound lost. “You’ve slapped me when I pissed you off. You lashed out because you know what it does to me. We do it to each other. It’s this…this weird thing between us and you’ve never hurt me.” Kona adjusted her on his lap, pulling on her waist to bring her closer. “That night at Lucy’s, I was coming off my shot. I was still full of that shit and high on adrenaline. I was out of my head jealous when I saw you with Luka because with you, shit, baby, most of the time I can’t think straight.” She started to speak and Kona knew there would be an excuse, something Keira would say to make herself seem unhinged. “No. It’s true. We both have issues. We’re just the same. I never got over my mom keeping our father out of our lives because he hurt her. You’ve had to deal with a bitch who gets mad and can’t keep her hands off you. But when I’m with you, when we’re together, none of that shit matters. I forget everything.”

“So do I.”

“Good. See? We’re the same. Tempers and stupidity and sometimes we do shit we don’t mean to.” Kona bent his head, kissed the exposed skin below Keira’s collarbone. “Last night, I threw you onto your bed because I was mad.”

“And I liked it.”

His smile was quick, moved across his mouth because he was happy he hadn’t hurt her, because he knew how much she’d liked it. But that smile disappeared when he lowered his eyes, when he brought his fingers to the bruise. “This isn’t the same thing. Not even close. That bitch is an ugly drunk, you’ve made a few comments that had me guessing that.” Kona tilted her chin to get a better look. “And I doubt this was the first time. Right?”

Keira looked over Kona’s shoulder and he knew she was remembering something. “She didn’t drink as much until my dad sold his practice.” Her stare unfocused, eyes unblinking. “When they married, he was a lawyer. He did what everyone expected and then, one day, he stopped caring about what they expected. My mother didn’t like him quitting. She didn’t like the cash cow going away and they fought so much.” Lids moving, Keira glanced back at him. “They threw chairs and plates and TV remotes…whatever they could find that would inflict the worst damage. She started drinking, he did everything else. It got so bad she didn’t even cry at his funeral. Or the next week. Or the month after that and when I tried to stand up to her, or said something that sounded too much like him, I got popped.” She took Kona’s hand from her face, and patted it once when he made a fist. “I learned to keep my nose down, stay out of her way and usually that worked. Usually if I do whatever she says, let her get her way, then she’s fine. But you came over yesterday and she started asking questions, starting flapping her White Power flag and I mouthed off to her. And then…this.”

Keira waved her hand, pointing to the bruise like it was nothing; something mundane and usual. He hated her attitude about being knocked around. He hated that she thought this was normal behavior. “It’s not safe for you to be around her. What if she really loses it?”

“Kona, I can fight back. I just never have before.” He leaned up, moving his head to watch her and Keira must have seen the question in his eyes. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I have. But I know that if I do what she asks, if I play the pacifying daughter, she’ll leave me alone. I’ve got three years, Kona and most of that time will be spent on campus or at Leann’s. Things have just been bad the past year or so because I rebelled, because I moved to campus,” Keira’s cheek dimpled with her quick smile, “and being around you has made me a little ballsier. She doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like that she can’t control me when I’m at school. This has been coming for a while.”

“I still can’t let you stay here.” The thought of this happening again made Kona feel sick and he grabbed her arm, holding onto her as though he needed the focus she gave him. “What kind of man would I be if I let you stay here unprotected?”

“The kind that knows I can take care of myself.”

“Keira…”

She shook her head, stopping him. “I hate her, sugar. I hate everything she stands for, everything she believes in. But I have three years. I have to bide my time for three years. When I’m twenty-one, my inheritance kicks in.” Keira shrugged, picked up Kona’s hands and locked their fingers together. “It’s not much, but it’s what my dad wanted me to have, what’s left of what he didn’t put up his nose, but it’s enough to get a place, to get me through my last year of college without her help.”

It all sounded too simple, too perfect. Kona didn’t know Cora Michaels. That brief conversation with her the day before told him she wasn’t the kind of woman who just took whatever came her way. He had a feeling she’d spend the rest of her life trying to control Keira and Kona wondered, despite Keira’s claim that she could walk away, if she really would. She was strong, she was a fighter, but Keira ran away from things when she thought she’d be hurt. Would she run away from the person who could hurt her most?

“Hey,” she said, voice light, as though she hadn’t spent the past few minutes crying on his chest. “Let me make you some French toast. It’s my specialty.”

More of that running. It’s what Keira did. She was done exorcising her demons, for now at least, and Kona loved that smile, how open it was, how happy she seemed to show him another side of herself he didn’t know existed.

“Sounds good, Wildcat.”

But as she walked away from him, looking far too good for someone who was so broken, Kona wondered if she would fight when the time came. He wondered if she’d let him fight for her. He wondered how far Keira would have to run to keep that smile on her face.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KONA

KONA WONDERED if you could O.D. on tryptophan. He thought that might be happening to him. He was in his bedroom, two doors from the loud sound of his KuKu and Luka killing each other in a quick game of dominos, thinking that either the delicious Thanksgiving turkey sitting like a rock in his stomach was going to kill him or Keira was.

He pulled his yellow phone up for the fourth time and grunted when there was still no message from her. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. Karma was a ruthless bitch and that little lie she’d told her professors about being sick when she’d avoided him had come back to bite Keira in the ass. CPU had been ravaged by the flu and Kona worried that Keira’s sneezes and tiredness were clues that’d she caught the crud Leann had been battling for a week. Keira had come to his house for Thanksgiving, sniffling and coughing, but still giving him that sweet smile of hers. True, the dinner had been awkward with his mother and girlfriend pretending to be civil as they glared across the table at one another, but for the most part, shit didn’t start. That, he knew was due to his KuKu.

His grandfather had asked him about Keira before she arrived. It was rare, something the old man didn’t normally do, but since neither Luka or Kona had ever brought a girl home, he was curious.

“Does she have all her teeth?” KuKu had asked him and Kona stared at the man for five full seconds, thinking his heart meds were making him loopy.

“What kind of question is that?”

Kuku only shrugged and slapped Kona on the back. “A woman with all her teeth takes care of herself. I’m just wondering, Keikikâne, if your milimili is gumming it.”

Kona laughed him, smiling wider that his kuku called Keira his beloved, shaking his head at how serious the old man stared at him. “She’s beautiful and smart and talented. She writes music and sings and yeah, she has perfect teeth, Kuku.”

He should have never told him about the music because his grandfather spent the better part of the day hitting his bongos, which he never learned how to play properly, and asking Keira to guess what song he sang. Most she knew, others, the sly bastard tricked her with by singing island songs no one had ever heard. By the time he started in on “Tiptoe Through the Tulips,” Kona’s mother trailed off deeper into the house, claiming she wanted to get the kitchen cleaned. Kona wasn’t sorry she left. All afternoon he’d noticed his mother’s overly calm stares at Keira; how both women ignored each other, how cool, indifferent his mother was to Keira.

His mother didn’t stay out of the way all night, but she played indifferent, kept throwing looks out toward the fire pit, watching he and Keira, curious. Kona caught Kuku’s wink when the woman left and Kona smiled, settling Keira on his lap and the bongo playing stopped while the football games came on.

It had turned into a great night, with Kona, Keira, Luka and Kuku sitting around the fire pit, listening to stories that Kona suspected his grandfather had invented. Each one had made Keira laugh and Kona was glad. It took her mind off of what she’d have to go home to; it kept her distracted from that long ride back to Mandeville and her mother who was still angry that Keira had chosen to spend Thanksgiving with Kona and his family and not her and her fake, wasted friends.

“You could stay,” he’d told her, holding on tight to her waist as she leaned against her Sunfire. “I could sneak you in and my mom would never know.”

“I’ll be fine. My mother will probably be passed out on Valium or wine, or both by the time I get back.”

Kona pulled Keira against him, nuzzling her neck, inhaling that sweet scent on her skin. He didn’t want her to leave. “You don’t know that for sure, Wildcat.”

She’d taken his lips then, long, slow, staggering Kona with a kiss that lingered. “I know that today was great.” Keira held his face and Kona thought she might say something more, something he’d been waiting for her to say to him, but that plump mouth closed up and she kissed him again. “I know that you made this a perfect Thanksgiving.”

Kona had watched her taillights blink and brake as she drove down the street and though she promised to call when she got home, promised that if her mother tried smacking her, that she wouldn’t take it, he still felt sick, anxious that he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

Luka and Kuku screamed at each other over the game board and when his mother stormed into the kitchen and started shouting at them like both were her rowdy kids, Kona pulled his pillow over his head, trying to drown out the noise.

A few minutes later the door to his bedroom opened a few inches. “Keiki kane?” his mother whispered, the venom gone from her voice. He didn’t want to talk to her. He knew she’d meddle, would at least bitch at him about Keira being there all day, about him continuing to date her even though she had told him it was a mistake. So Kona laid still, moving his chest in exaggerated breaths, hoping she’d buy him being asleep and when his door clicked shut, he pulled the pillow off of his face, smiling that she had left him alone.

He didn’t care that his mom hated Keira. The woman would hate anyone he dated; Kona was past worrying about her opinion. He only wanted Keira’s blue eyes open, free of the glassy shine he’d seen in them too much lately. Her mother had only been too eager to ask about Kona, but not in a kind way. Cora unrelentingly continued her threats over the past few weeks and the pressure, the interrogations and the insinuations were wearing thin on his Wildcat.

When they were together, when he touched her, that worry disappeared. There was only the two of them in the whole damn world. In her dorm, in his car or hers, in the dark stacks on the top floor of the library, she was his, all alone. There were no interfering mothers. There were no pressures from friends and coaches. There was nothing but the soft lilt of Keira’s breath and that tight, warm heat of her body clamping around him.

Three weeks, maybe four, and already Kona was addicted to the taste and feel of her. It was better than the dragon, the poison he’d depended on for a year to make him stronger. Now Keira was his addiction. It’d started at the lake house, that first time, and continued the next day with her on the kitchen counter, hands clamped on the edge and Kona inside her, taking, giving, wanting the sensation of how they fit together, how perfect, how real they came together, to never end. She was his comfort. He was her strength and when they were apart, the world seemed grayer somehow to Kona, bleak and lifeless.

Two quick rings on his phone and Kona answered, not bothering to see whose number flashed across the screen.

“Wildcat?”

“Who?” The guy’s voice was gravel deep and Kona cursed himself, cursed Ricky for bothering him.

“What do you need, man? I told you last week, I’m out of product and I’m not selling that shit anymore.”

Ricky’s breath was heavy on the other line, a long sigh that had Kona sitting up, preparing for the threat he knew was coming. Instead, the asshole just laughed, small and quick, like Kona was a stupid kid being taught a lesson.

“Look at you being all aggressive, Kona.” He cleared his throat and the humor left his voice. “I don’t give a shit what you told me. I don’t care that you got off the juice to keep your girl happy.” Kona didn’t like Ricky talking about Keira. Not even a passing mention, but the dumbass kept doing it, just to screw with Kona, to lay that underlined threat at his feet, waiting for Kona to step over it. “You clean now, but you know you gonna come back whining to me when you start playing like shit. I know the game, man. And I also know if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been tossed off the team already. You owe me and when somebody owes me, Kona, I fucking collect.”

Kona stood, kicked his backpack out of his way as he paced around his room, phone gripped between his fingers so tight he thought he might break the damn thing. He was already on edge, from cycling down of the juice and his worry of Keira being alone with her mother in that house. Ricky’s threats didn’t help. “Don’t threaten me, Ricky. I slip one word to the cops and…”

“What the fuck you say to me?” That humorless laugh was back and when Ricky spoke again, the gravel in his voice had turned to glass. “You not that stupid, man. I know you not. You open your mouth and that pretty little bitch of yours gets bloody. You feel me?”

Kona was two seconds from tossing his phone across the room. He did owe Ricky, he knew that. Worst of all, Ricky knew that Kona understood what owing him meant. And if that motherfucker laid one finger on Keira…he blinked, slumped down on his bed rubbing his eyes. “What do you want?”

“The week after Christmas, North Rampart. It’s the biggest shipment I’ve got coming in. Someone’s been blabbing to Dino Arceneaux. That asshole thinks he’s going to gank my shit before I get to it. I need you to be there so that don’t happen.”

Kona didn’t know what Ricky expected of him. He’d watched shipments before, but they were small, easily handled with one or two duffle bags in his trunk as one of Ricky’s boys headed back to New Orleans from Texas, having already picked up the shipment from someone else entering the border from Mexico. There was little danger in it and no real threat of being busted. Ricky always picked clean-cut guys for the transfer, sometimes a girl who looked a little like she could pass for someone’s twelve-year-old sister to deliver his shipments. Kona had always been nothing but muscle, had always been used for his size in case the shipment was light. He’d never been asked to chaperone a big shipment before. Dino Arceneaux was a juice head from Kenner with two muscle shops. He thought he was going to be Mr. Olympia. He thought he was Scarface, but he stood at barely 5’6 and didn’t have the balls to challenge anyone.

“Man, if I do this for you, you gotta cut me loose. I’m serious. I don’t want in this shit anymore. I just want a clean break.” Kona could practically hear Ricky thinking. He knew getting out wouldn’t be easy. He knew Ricky liked having him around to scare off punks like Dino, but Kona was done being his muscle. He wanted free from the weight of Ricky’s bullshit.

Finally, the man exhaled, released the sound that Kona thought was a little too calm and a little too forced. “Fine. You do this shit for me and I won't bug you no more, but Kona, everything has to run smooth…I mean fucking perfect. No fuck ups.”

“I got you.”

“I mean it, man. I’d hate to have to…”

“I said I got you. I’m not a kid. You don’t have to warn me.”

He ended the call before Ricky could threaten him again. Or Keira. Flat against his mattress, Kona covered his eyes with his arm, heart slamming as Ricky’s voice ran over and over in his mind like a stuck track on a busted CD player.

That pretty little bitch of yours gets bloody.

Kona wanted out; he’d wanted out for over a year when Luka started seriously bitching at him about dealing. It’s was too much and Kona always felt dirty, pathetic when he sold for Ricky. He didn’t want that life. He didn’t want any of it to come near Keira. If that asshole touched her…if anyone touched Keira—Kona sat up, gripping his phone again, not bothering to check for her message and when her voicemail picked up immediately, Kona ended the call, moving around the room for his keys.

He knew he was being paranoid. He knew she’d probably crashed on her bed as soon as she got home, but Kona couldn’t ignore the need to see her again; that crushing urge to touch her, to make sure no one had bothered her. And behind that protective need lay a more urgent want. Kona needed to be calm, to feel the world disappear for just a moment. There was only place he could find that peace.

***

Keira

KEIRA DREAMT BETWEEN NOTES. Not every night, not every dream was filled with lyrics. Only the good ones. Most mornings she couldn’t remember them, but when she did, she heard the soft rasp of her father’s voice and felt his rough fingers smooth on the inside of her wrist. In those good dreams he was always happy, always proud. He was young, full of the potential she remembered him feeling before everything turned to darkness. Before his life clouded with the burden of expectancy and the disappointment that colored most of Keira’s childhood memories

The dream that night wasn’t dark and Keira suspected it came from being happy that day, from being around Kona and his family. There had been laughs, broken apart only by the cool stare his mother gave her and the overwhelming sadness she felt once she was driving away from the city, away from Kona.

Keira dreamt of her father, of them together, smiling easily, happy, and the strum of twin guitars, both Hummingbirds, both his, that pushed back reality. In that dream he sang in a loud, clear voice, encouraging her, praising her talent. He sang Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love,” something she knew wasn’t for her. Keira thought it might have been for her mother, but the woman in the song sounded nothing like the woman who threw her best china at her father’s head. The song her father sung was slow, slower than Morrison’s version and as her father sang it, his voice carried around them, kissed into her consciousness and Keira sat fascinated, amazed at his emotion, at the joy on his face. It was a song about falling in love, falling hard and deeply and completely. It was a love Keira told herself she was inching toward with Kona.

“Nothing less, sweetie.” Her father’s smile didn’t break when he spoke to her. “Nothing less than crazy love will ever be good enough for you.”

Keira felt the soft impression of lips on her back and she smiled, still caught in that dream, slipping somewhere away from it until she knew Kona was in her bed. Eyes blinking open, that smile grew and she exhaled, released a great swell of satisfaction when Kona moved his mouth to her neck.

“You didn’t call.” Keira rolled on to her back, catching Kona’s face between her fingers as he lowered over her. She didn’t like the frown on his face and decided to make it leave with her mouth over his. “I was worried,” he said, rubbing his thumb over her forehead.

“I fell asleep. I meant to…” a yawn interrupted her excuse and Keira covered her mouth. “That drive takes it out of me.” Another quick kiss she hoped reassured him. “I’m sorry.”

He moved her head, inching it to one side then the other and Keira laughed at the steely way his gaze moved over her face. “She didn’t…?”

“She was passed out when I got home and Steven wasn’t here.” Keira sat up, brushing her hair off her face as she climbed onto Kona’s lap. “She doesn’t make it a habit, you know, and my life here isn’t an afternoon special.” When he started to argue, she shut him up with another kiss. “You gotta stop worrying so much. I told you, I won’t let her smack me around anymore. You give me a reason not to cave.”

“Wildcat…” whatever Kona wanted to say, lay trapped in his throat and he cupped her face, took her lips like he owned them. In the back of her mind was the small worry Kona would catch whatever funk was making her throat hurt and throbbing in her head, but he felt too good, his large arms were too comforting. They fell back, worked each other up, but Keira felt him holding back; she felt him hesitate, not putting enough of himself into those kisses or lazy rubs against her body.

“Hey.” She brought her hand to his cheek. “Where are you tonight?”

“I’m here, baby.” Kona’s small peck that Keira guessed was supposed to be reassuring only made her worry even more. When she moved her lips away from another attempted kiss, his shoulders fell and Kona leaned on his elbow to hover over her. “Ricky called me.”

“Kona…”

“I know. You don’t have to get mad. I told him I was out, after this last job.”

Keira refused to let that small hint of anger simmering around her mind grow. She took a breath, deep enough to fill her lungs until her body forced it out. It was an attempt at calm. The day had been too good, that dream, too prophetic. She wouldn’t pick a fight with him.

Keira toyed with the hem of Kona’s hoodie, wrapping the drawstring around the tip of her finger just as he’d done all those months ago in Miller’s class. “When?”

“A week after Christmas.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes at how closely Kona watched her, as if he were waiting for her to explode. “At least he’s giving you the holiday off.”

“It’s the last one,” he said, ignoring Keira passive aggressive jab. He pulled the drawstring off her finger and laid on her chest, tapping her hand once so she’d move her fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to do it, Wildcat, but he’ll hurt…the people I care about.”

She wasn’t stupid and Kona knew it. She heard the lingering threat, the one she knew he tried to hide from her. “He’s all talk, baby. People like him work off of fear and me getting hurt, he thinks, is your greatest fear.”

Kona sat up, moving his hands on either side of her head. “It is. Nothing scares me more. It would kill me if something happened to you because of me. It would kill me if something happened to you in general, but especially if it was my shit that got you hurt.” Kona lowered over her, hands back on her face, so close she could feel the heat of his breath moistening her skin. “My love’s too thick, Wildcat.”

She couldn’t help herself, she kissed him then, harder than before, wanted to say what had flirted on her tongue for weeks; what her logic and defenses forced back down her throat each time Kona told her he loved her. Kona had never asked her to say it back to him. He waited, like always, never pushed, but just then, when he backed away from her, when he simply stared at her, she saw the question in his eyes, that quick flicker of need she knew had nothing to do with his fear for her safety or the ache for her body. He wanted the words.

“Why don’t you sing for me?” he asked, and Keira had not expected that question.

“What?”

“You never sing for me. I’ve heard you through your door and I know you play for Leann, but you never give me that. You let me inside, Wildcat.” Kona fingered the neck of her t-shirt and let his palm rest over her heart. “But you never let me inside. Why?”

They’d slept together in her tiny dorm bed and some nights, when Kona snored at her side, Keira would look at him, really look at him—at that perfect, chiseled face and the small brown spots that dotted over his cheeks—and she’d mouthed the words she’d written just for him. Other times, she’d hum them, sliding up the notes, hoping that they filtered into his dreams; a soft whisper of everything she felt for him. But she had never been brave enough to sing when he was awake. She’d never lowered all those walls, not completely, not enough for him to notice.

When Keira didn’t answer, Kona rolled onto her pillow, moving his arm across his forehead. “It’s fine, Wildcat.”

Now who’s running?

He held her hips when she straddled him, but the worry was still in his eyes, the worry and the frustration and Keira wanted that tension gone. It was time. It was past time.

“Kona?” His eyes came up, caught hers and he waited. “I’ve never loved anything like I love you.” The corner of his mouth lifted and Keira smiled at the release of some of his worry. “Mine is thick too and sometimes it scares me. Sometimes I think I know what Paul D. meant.” Keira settled lower over him, chin on his chest and she liked that Kona played with her hair, that he pretended she couldn’t feel how quickly his heart pounded. “I love you like a song,” she said, knowing he’d understand what that meant, knowing he knew she couldn’t love anything more. She kissed him and sighed against his mouth when Kona’s arms came around her waist, loving how tightly he held her to him. “My father taught me this song when I was eight and it broke my heart. I only sing it when I wanna remember how good that felt.”

Keira left the bed with Kona sitting up against the headboard. She sat in front of him with her Gibson on her lap and her fingers strumming against those familiar strings. “This is how much I love you.” The intro came back to her easier than blinking, that heart plucked vibration she’d heard in her dream. She kept her voice low, strums light, but her eyes didn’t move from his face as she sang about the love she wanted to give him; about the crazy love that was meant for him alone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

KEIRA

KEIRA FELT STUPID. Her head throbbed and she swore she could see her pulse pounding in her eyes. Small flurries of black dots flicked across her vision and for the third time in a row, she sneezed. It was dumb to huddle in the stadium, near the fifty-yard line right alongside the other idiots, just to watch her boyfriend running around the field.

Winter camp, she guessed, held over the long weeks between the end of the regular season and the playoffs. At least, that’s what she’d gathered from Kona’s promise that the camp was very important. His enthusiasm made her want to be there, despite the worsening sickness that clogged her sinuses and made her lightheaded.

She was pretty sure she had a fever, was even more certain that those frowns Kona wore each time she sneezed were meant for her. But he had worked so hard since he’d been benched and wanted so much to play and play well. Kona had sworn he hadn’t touched a needle since she caught him in the locker room. His doubled efforts and late nights in the weight room had been proof enough for her. So what if she felt a little shitty? He was her boyfriend and she wanted him to know she supported him. Even if it was in something as mind numbing as football.

The stadium wasn’t filled to capacity, but the open practice had drawn several pro scouts and a large cluster of alumni, many of whom gave passing greetings to her and made brief, superficial inquiries about her mother and stepdad. Still, despite the small crowd, Keira felt out of place.

She pulled the wool blanket further around her shoulders and when she caught a whiff of that scratchy texture, another sneeze shot out of her mouth. Keira didn’t bother to watch for Kona’s glare, she could feel it as he rounded the corner of the field and ran past her.

“You sound like death.” Luka had lost his uniform and was bundled up in a thick jacket and dark jeans as he slumped in the seat next to her.

“I’ll live.”

“So this is what love looks like?” Keira shook her head at Luka’s wrinkled nose as he waved his hand in her direction. “I’ll pass, I think.”

She felt another sneeze threatening, itching in her nostrils and Keira dug a Kleenex out of her coat pocket. “Is…is…” She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the sensation in her sinuses and the urge to sneeze passed. “Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”

“What? Me, insult a beautiful girl? Are you crazy?” Keira wiped her dripping nose and waved off Luka’s small nudge against her shoulder. “Especially not my twin’s beautiful girl.” Kona ran past them and both Keira and Luka followed his quick movement. “Um, don’t tell him I said you were beautiful.”

“You’re such a chicken shit.”

“Nah, but my brother is stupid when it comes to you.” When Kona turned a corner and his eyes flew back to them, Luka moved to a seat in front of her. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bit of a chicken shit.”

Kona and Luka had gotten past their anger from the locker room, from Luka filling Keira in on Kona’s juicing, but that hadn’t stopped her boyfriend from glaring at his twin when he spoke to her in the cafeteria or offered her a plate at Thanksgiving. Kona knew Keira would never look at Luka the way she did at him, and with any other guy that smiled at her or nodded a greeting, the ones Kona barely noticed. Still, she hadn’t thought it important to tell him that Mark Burke sometimes called, just to check up on her. She didn’t think there was a need to invoke Kona’s jealous tendencies. Besides, Mark wasn’t interested in anything but friendship with her and Keira wouldn’t look twice at him anyway. But Luka, Keira thought, seemed like a threat to Kona. She didn’t know why, though she guessed some lingering anger at his twin and more than a little bout of sibling rivalry had something to do with Kona’s attitude.

Keira also thought Kona might be a little jealous that Luka had played in every game that season.

“Why are you out of uniform?”

“I didn’t slack. Haven’t been pulled off the field, and this shit,” he pointed to Kona beginning to struggle as he ran, “is because he’s gotta earn back his spot. Plus,” Luka’s gaze flicked to the left and he nodded in the direction of two men dressed in dark suits and long coats. They didn’t fit in with Robins’ relaxed gray slacks and CPU jacket. “The scouts are starting to hunt for fresh blood and I think Coach wants to show Kona off a little.” Luka looked up at Keira smiling. “Just don’t tell him that. He still needs to sweat a little.”

“You still pissed, Luka?” Another drip and Keira swiped at her nose again with the Kleenex. “You barely said anything about me giving your brother stitches, but you’re still pissed at him for making a mistake?”

Luka turned around, moving his arm to the back of his seat. “Keira, no offense, but you’re just his girlfriend. He’s my brother. He’s my twin and he put me in a shitty position. And he acts like I’m trying to steal you or something.” Luka looked back at the field to watch Kona talking to Robins, sweat coating his t-shirt and jogging pants. “I can almost understand you knocking the shit out of him because I know how he can push buttons, but I don’t get how he could get messed up in that shit for so long or put me in the middle of it.” Keira sneezed again and this time her entire body bent forward, moving her hair over her face. Luka tried to repress his laughter, tried to brush off how ridiculous Keira knew she looked by moving his hand against her forehead. “You alright?” She nodded, hurrying to clean her face before Luka’s laughter got too obnoxious. “Anyway, we still need to have words. I don’t completely believe that he can stay away from that shit or what Ricky wants him to do.”

Keira’s eyes flicked to the field, to Kona shaking hands with one of the scouts on the sidelines and then her gaze moved right, straight into the wide, calculating smile on Professor Alana’s face who sat quite a few rows away. Keira didn’t like how the woman grinned at her or how her eyes flicked between Keira and Luka.

“Why’s your mother here?”

Luka followed her gaze and then stood up. “Oh. She and Kuku are taking me car shopping.” He patted his jacket pocket and grinned at her. “Unlike my twin, I was never into cars or buying old beaters to fix up. I’ve saved up for three years and am finally gonna get something sweet.” Luka nodded to his mother before he smiled at Keira. “Listen, you’re good for him and I hope he stays clean, but seriously, Keira, get your ass to the dorm and take some meds. Love or not, don’t get sick for him.”

Keira watched Luka move down the aisle and join his mother on the stairs before the woman waved him in front of her. She leveled one final smile that was wicked and threatening at Keira and the girl’s stomach coiled tight. Keira doubted it was the cold that had her stomach rumbling. There was a scheme in Professor Alana’s eyes that warned her the flu was the least of her worries.

***

Kona

HIS WILDCAT WAS SICK. He’d known that before he finished with camp and found her shivering in the stands, barely able to keep her head upright.

“Stubborn brat, why the hell did you stick around?”

Keira had only managed to blink at him, a weak, forced smile pulling her lips before she sneezed twice and Kona led her out of the stadium and back to her dorm. He’d skipped classes the next day to stay with her and then hauled her into the infirmary at noon, despite her pathetic fussing that she “didn’t need a damn doctor.”

Three days hopped up on amoxicillin and she had a little more color in her cheeks, but a low fever still lingered and the coughing was getting worse.

Kona nudged her awake, placing a glass of water on the bedside table as he opened the syrupy medicine bottle.

Bright blue eyes blinking, Keira smiled, something she hadn’t done all week and Kona let some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Time for medicine?”

“Yeah, baby, sit up.” He spooned the syrupy stuff past her chapped lips and she took it gladly.

“How is it you haven’t gotten sick?” she asked, brushing Kona’s hand aside when he touched the back of his hand to her forehead. He frowned, forehead pulling tight and Keira rolled her eyes. “It takes a couple of days for the fever to leave.”

“It’s been three, Wildcat.” Kona slid closer, moving his fingers to her neck, feeling along her glands. “At least these aren’t swollen anymore. How’s your throat?”

She slapped his hands off her neck. “Still scratchy but better than yesterday.” When he started to push back from her, Keira grabbed his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t get sick.” Keira shook her head. Kona knew she thought he was full of shit, but he wasn’t lying. His mom had always told him he’d taken the warrior genes in the womb since Luka was always down with one childhood sickness or another and Kona had never so much as got the sniffles. “Seriously. I’ve never even had a fever.” He leaned closer, kissing her neck. “Except when I kiss you.”

Keira’s voice was deep, sounded thick and when she laughed at him, that crackling sound settled into a coughing fit. He pulled her against his chest, rubbed his hand down her back and for the hundredth time cursed Keira’s cousin and the funk she’d brought into their dorm. Leann’s bed was made, hadn’t been slept in all week. She’d chickened out of staying at the dorm once Keira got sick, scared she’d have a relapse and Kona was left to play caregiver. He didn’t mind, but some things Kona couldn’t do; Keira had absolutely refused his help when she had to piss and hadn’t had the energy to even grab a shower in the past few days. Kona loved the girl, but three days in bed, sweating out a fever had made her a little ripe.

When Keira’s cough settled, Kona let her go. “You think maybe you wanna try to grab a shower?”

Her smile was lopsided, very cute. “You trying to get me naked, baby?”

“Always, Wildcat, but mostly I was thinking that a shower would break up some of that crap in your lungs, make you feel better.”

She only hesitated for a moment, then her shoulders dropped and she let Kona walk her into the bathroom. The room was small and too damn girly with soft beige walls and a fluffy rug and makeup and hair things scattered over the cabinet above the toilet. It barely fit a toilet, pedestal sink and full tub and shower - still pretty fancy for a dorm room. It was nice at times to have connections. Kona standing in there with her was a bit of a squeeze, but he helped her out of her pajamas, slipped off her thong and even managed to keep his hands to himself when she sat on the closed toilet lid completely naked as he turned on the shower.

It was the most she’d moved all week and her motions were slow, sloppy. Kona worried that she couldn’t manage to bathe herself and washing her hair was completely out of the question. “I don’t need a chaperone, you know.” She climbed into the shower, smiling as the hot water spilled down her back. “I could use company, though.”

“Keira, don’t be stupid. You’re sick.”

One small glare and Kona knew he’d messed up. She hated being babied. She hated him thinking she was weak. “Hale, get naked.”

Kona stripped off and climbed in behind her. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he hadn’t touched her, not the way he wanted, for days, but he ignored it. He ignored how good she felt leaning on him, how her fit body slid against his as he lathered her back and she arched into his touch.

“I feel high,” she said, voiced muffled against his chest.

“Actually, you feel fucking wonderful.” He felt her laugh, but the hot water and steam must have been working its magic because no racking cough followed the sound.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, Kona.” Keira turned and her arms moved up his shoulders. She smiled, rubbing her tits against him. “Thank you for taking care of me, baby.”

Kona nodded, closed his eyes, tried to concentrate on scrubbing shampoo into her hair and not the slow kiss she planted on his neck. Predictably, his dick reacted. He grunted, tightened his eyes when she continued to kiss him. “Wildcat, stop it.” She only held on tighter when he moved her head back to rinse her hair.

Her low moan had Kona’s own grunts deepening. “The water feels so good,” she said, stretching her neck against the spray and Kona’s eyes moved on their own, slipping down her body to those sweet, hard nipples begging for his mouth. When Keira lifted her head and she caught the way Kona bit his lip, how he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, she skimmed one hand from his neck and rubbed her thumb over her breasts, fingers going lower the larger Kona’s eyes got. “You like that?”

He could only nod, his gaze stuck on the way her long fingers disappeared between her thighs. “You need to stop,” he told her, still watching her touch herself. He was mesmerized by the slip of her fingers inside her, how her breathing got heavier the faster they worked. “Keira…” It was warning he knew she would ignore and though he felt like an asshole, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the movement of her hand; he couldn’t help leaning forward or his lips from covering one hard nipple.

He nipped against that sweet, dark flesh, eyes wide as Keira’s fingers disappeared, in and out, again and again and then Kona couldn't help it any longer, and touched himself.

“Baby, you’re sick,” he said, before he covered her mouth, before he moved her hand away and pushed his own fingers into that sweet center. “Shit, you’re so hot. So tight.”

“For you, sugar. Only for you.” Then Keira was the one touching him, working those slender fingers around his dick until Kona didn’t think the heat in that small bathroom came from the hot shower spray.

“Keira…” That time, he said her name like a prayer, not a warning, trying to tell himself that he shouldn't take her; she had the flu and what kind of asshole does his sick girlfriend in the shower? But before he could pull away from her, before he could do more than lean against the wet tile, fingers still inside her, Keira’s hand began to move faster and her teeth raked against his neck, and Kona became a shuddering mess of stupid.

“I’ve missed you.” She gripped him and Kona attacked her nipple again, moved his hips to match the rhythm she made with her hand against him. “Get inside me. I need you.”

Kona pulled his fingers out of her, already missing that heat, mind already made up before he put much thought into the decision and he gripped her around her waist, easily sliding her up the tile.

He made three quick, liquid thrusts and then stopped short, finally realizing he was feeling all of her, nothing between them. “Shit.” He was torn between the raw feel of her, the warmth and tightness unlike anything he’d felt before, and that weak little warning that told him he was messing up. Keira lifted her eyebrows, eyes still heavy lidded from the moment, likely from her flu. “I’m not wearing anything.”

She leaned her head against the tile and moved it once. “Right now, I don’t care. This feels, God…” And then Kona caught what that small moan meant when Keira clenched around him.

“Open up, Keira. Open wide…ah…shit…” and then Kona didn’t care that they were being irresponsible. He didn’t care about anything but being deep inside her, touching her, making those moans she released elevate, grow louder.

They’d talk about bad decisions later. They’d worry about consequences when she felt better, when he wasn’t so caught up in how she made his body buzz, in how much the sensation of her, all of her, was perfect and satisfying and just so damn right. They’d talk about how hard, how hot, how right it was to connect with nothing between then; how it meant nothing, would lead to nothing but the slide of their wet bodies working together, him filling her with everything he had.

Tomorrow would be another day and they’d be fine. They’d be careful later. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KEIRA

KEIRA’S COUGH lessened two days later and she was able to push Kona out of her dorm, promising him she could manage to brush her teeth and take her meds without him hovering. He left, finally, after a long kiss and a vow that Keira would eat something more than a pack of Skittles and whatever those noodles were that Leann left in their mini-fridge.

Her professors weren’t worried about the absences. It seemed the entire campus had been hit hard by the flu and after a few quick emails on the slow university server, Keira was caught up and preparing for finals. She should have been happy. She should have been glad that the semester was winding down and Christmas break loomed. But her mother had called the day before and at the end of that conversation, Keira mentally scrambled for an excuse not to return to Mandeville when classes ended. Leann was spending the holiday with Michael’s family in Georgia and Keira didn’t think bunking at Kona’s place would go over well with Professor Alana.

“So, you’re dating that boy?” her mother had said when Keira picked up the phone. No “hello” or “how are you feeling?” The woman started in with an interrogation because she was angry, because she knew Keira was rebelling again.

After a dramatic, mostly forced cough, Keira answered her. “Yes, I am.” She listened to her mother’s slow, angry exhales, then Keira tried for sympathy. “He took care of me, Mother. Leann took off because she didn’t want to get sick again, but Kona stayed. He’s a good person and I care about him.” Her mother didn’t listen. To her, Keira knew, there was only the dark skin, the features that were too wide, hair that was too black, too thick. She hung up on her mother when the woman beginning talking about mistakes and the conversation they’d have when the semester ended.

It was that conversation that weighed on Keira’s mind as she sat on her bed trying to study for her Geometry exam. She knew most of their discussions, most of the times her mother didn’t get her way left Keira being smacked around and eventually agreeing to cave to whatever the woman wanted. Not this time, she thought, tapping her pencil onto her Geometry book. That was her biggest worry. She’d promised Kona if her mother tried slapping her again, that she wouldn’t just take it. She’d fight back and Keira knew she’d be forced into retaliating when she stood firm on not walking away from Kona. He was hers and she would keep him no matter how many times her mother screamed, no matter how hard she hit her.

Keira laid back, moving her gaze over the white ceiling, to the plain light fixture in the center of the room. It was a white bubble with a brass center and looked oddly like a nipple. “The tit light,” as Leann called it and Keira let her vision blur, thoughts cluttered with imaginings of her mother’s angry scowl, with the hot, wine-tinted breath she knew the older woman would have. Then she blinked, eyes shifting to the left when someone knocked on the door. A quick glance at her clock and Keira jumped up, surprised that she hadn't noticed that Kona’s practice had been over for nearly half an hour.

She hadn’t seen him since last night and studying and worrying over an argument she knew was a few weeks away had distracted Keira so that she hadn’t had time to miss him. They’d spent nearly the whole week together, Kona snuggled with her on her small bed, him only leaving for practice and to pick up food.

Keira pulled the door open, ready to tackle him, but the dark bruise under one of his eyes had her pausing.

“Sugar, what happened?” Keira caught the cold brush of him passing her, how he shook his head as though that mark under his eye was nothing. He moved around her room with his hands in his pockets, thick hoodie bunched over his wrists and his large shoulders set rigid, severe.

“You take your medicine today?” Kona moved his chin toward her bedside table, to the collection of wadded up Kleenex and the half empty bottle of amoxicillin.

She wouldn't allow him to divert her. “What happened?” When Keira touched him, he stepped back, moving out of her reach.

Kona’s sigh came out hard and he rubbed his eyes with his head down. “Luka and I had words this morning. It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing then you’d let me touch you.”

A quick flash of his eyes and Kona’s top lip twitched. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll let you touch me after you explain to me what you and my brother were talking about that day at camp.” Kona pulled himself up to his full height, crossing his arms and the twitch in his lip shifted to his cheek.

Keira had a good idea where this was coming from, but she wouldn’t start right away accusing his mother. If he wanted to dig a hole, she wouldn’t give him a shovel. “You saw us together, Kona. We were just talking. You had your eyes on us the whole damn time.”

“Not when I was talking to the scouts. I didn’t even see Luka leave and I damn sure didn’t see him touching you.”

Kona rarely paid attention to details. He didn’t usually remember what he ate at lunch or who he’d borrowed a pen from in his class, Keira knew that. He was about the big moments and details didn’t fit into big moments. So Keira knew he wouldn’t have remembered not seeing Luka. She knew he wouldn’t have paid attention to when his brother left or how long she and Luka sat next to each other as he practiced.

“Who is in your head, Kona?”

She knew he caught her meaning. She knew Kona understood what she was implying. But instead of coming to his mother’s defense, something he often did, Kona just glared down at her, both hands back in his pockets. “You got something you wanna tell me, Wildcat?”

“Yes,” she said, taking no pleasure in how he lifted his eyebrows, how that stupid surprise on his face had him dropping his mouth open. “I want to tell you that you’re a jealous, insane asshole.”

“That’s not funny.”

“You see me laughing?” Keira walked back to her bed, anxious and needing something to do with her hands. She didn’t want to slap him. She didn’t want her anger to flare up. She could feel him watching her as she busied herself with the trash on her bedside table, with how she closed her book and stuffed her pencils into her backpack.

“You and Luka, Keira? Is that what’s going on?”

Keira threw her bag to the floor. “Yes, Kona that’s it exactly. You know, in those half hour moments when I’m not with you or when I’m in class, that’s what’s going on. Me and Luka are all over each other in the middle of the hallway between classes or behind the cashier’s desk in the cafeteria when you leave to take a piss. Are you stupid?”

Two fast strides and Kona stood in front of her, but Keira didn’t cower away from him. She never did. He was a jackass with a temper, but so was she. She knew he hated being called stupid. It cut too close for Kona, that’s why she said it.

“You wanna say that again?”

Keira tiled her head, ignored the curl on his mouth. “You heard me fine. And you deserve being called stupid if you think for a second that I would do that to you.”

That curl grew tighter, shook his top lip and Keira’s eyes moved down to the fists at Kona’s side. They stared at each other for just a moment longer than was necessary to challenge and Kona stepped back, pacing around her room with his fingers moving through his hair.

“What happened to ‘yours/mine,’ Kona? What happened to us promising we were it for each other? You think that didn’t mean anything to me?”

She hated how he stopped short, how the stupid sneer on his face only got worse. “You tell me. You went with him to Lucy’s.”

“To find you!” Why was he dredging up the past? He was the one who told her to forget about it. “And what did I get for my trouble, Kona? You with your face in some redhead’s tits.”

“Yeah and I got clocked with a bottle.”

That stung. Every time Keira looked at that shiny scar on his face, she felt guilty. Kona knew that, would frequently tell her to “let that shit go.” Now he threw it back in her face because he was angry, because his bitch of a mother was whispering nonsense to him, playing on Kona’s insanely jealous nature and the still simmering anger he held against Luka.

Keira was trying, she had been trying, not to let her temper lead her into something she’d regret. And the past month had been nice, they’d grown closer, they rarely fought. She closed her eyes as he returned to his pacing, rubbing her face as a slow count moved in her thoughts. “He’s your brother.”

“And he’s fucked me over before.” Kona returned to the foot of her bed, hands hanging lightly on his hips as he waited for her reaction. He was goading her again, seeming to forget the peace they felt together; seeming to want that spark to flare between them. She knew he was pushing, trying to urge her to slip up. But there was nothing for her to admit. The only thing she hadn’t told him about was the brief conversations she’d had with Mark Burke the past few weeks and there was no way she’d mention them now. God knows the shit storm that would bring.

“He was protecting you because you put him in the middle of bullshit.” Keira knew her voice was loud, that a shout hinted behind each word she released, each lifted octave. “Besides, Luka may have hurt you, but I haven’t.”

One quick movement of his head and the scowl on his face changed, became a bitter smile that was forced. “Not yet.”

Keira wished he’d slapped her. She wished he’d told her he’d cheated on her. Somehow those things wouldn’t have cut as deep. Instead of lashing out, she sat on her bed, profile to him. She was still tired, still worn out from the flu and the week of inactivity. “Get out,” she finally told him, all the fight out of her voice. She didn’t flinch or pull away from him when he knelt down, when he wrapped his fingers around her arm.

“You fucking my brother, Keira?” Kona’s tone was soft, light, but Keira knew him. It was the calm before the storm. It was something they both did, quiet words that brewed hot, that steamed out with the escalating rage. When she closed her eyes, shaking her head, that grip on her arm tightened. “Are you?”

Keira moved her head slowly, knowing he’d see the warning in her eyes the second he looked at her. “Get out of my room.”

He jerked his hand away from her, standing as he moved to Leann’s side of the bed. “Here she goes, little coward running away.” Keira stood, shoulders set when Kona kicked one of Leann’s wedges across the room. “Just tell me the truth!” Keira watched him come undone, how his gaze went around the room, how his fists squeezed so tight his hands shook. He was looking for something to hit, something that would take away the tension, and Keira didn’t think, did nothing more than stand in front of him when he darted toward the bookshelf next to Keira’s desk.

“You wanna hit something, then come at me, Kona.”

“Keira, get out of my face.” He stepped away from her, nostrils flaring, breath coming faster when she didn’t move. “Back off!” And when Keira didn’t budge, when she followed him, Kona bent his elbow and slammed his fist into the drywall over her head. She felt the dust and chunks of the wall in her hair, against her neck. “He wouldn’t say anything, just like you. Why not, Keira? Why the hell not? If you aren’t doing anything, why wouldn’t he just tell me? Why won’t you?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous. Because you’re being insulting.” She watched him stomp around the room, shaking his hand to clear the dust and dirt from it. “Because you let that stupid bitch get into your head.”

“That stupid bitch loves me. She would never lie to me. She would never tell me something that was bullshit, especially not about my own brother!”

“Oh my God, Kona, of course she would.” Keira couldn’t believe how blind he was. He didn’t see how easily she manipulated him and part of her felt sorry for the big idiot. “She hates me, you know that and from everything you’ve told me, from little comments Luka’s made, she doesn’t like him either. If she wanted you away from me, why not focus on the other person in your life that she hates?”

“She does not hate him. You don’t…you don’t know…” and then Kona went for her guitar. Keira moved fast, tried wrestling it out of his massive hand, but he held her off.

She could only step back in shock, hands over her mouth, tears flooding her eyes as Kona held her father’s Hummingbird by the headstock. “Please. Oh God, Kona, please don’t—“she heard the crack and fell to her knees, catching the guitar before it fell to the floor.

Keira cradled it, held the loose strings in her hands, shuddering when she saw how the headstock dangled from the neck, the silver keys untightened. Her father was in those strings; he was in every fret, every worn groove and Keira ran her fingers over each one, hopeless, vision blurred and foggy with the thick cluster of her tears. The first man she loved died all over again and no matter how much she tried to pull the strings back, no matter how she moved the headstock back into place, it was ruined.

Kona knelt beside her and Keira closed her eyes not wanting to see the tortured way he looked at her. His refrain of “baby, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it” was a screech to her ears that made her sick and when he tried to touch her, Keira jerked his hand off her shoulder, pulled the broken guitar closer to her chest.

“Just go,” she said, bending her forehead to the cold neck. “Please just go.”

And for once, Kona didn’t argue. For once, he left Keira alone with her tears.

***

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a few weeks.” Mark’s breath beat into the phone and Keira stopped on the first flight of stairs of her building. He was a friend, would never be anything more than that, but he kept calling her, kept up with whatever stupid thing she and Kona were arguing about on any given week and informed her of every drunken gripe her mother made to his. Those usually included more than one reference to Keira. But the way Mark hesitated, how he flirted around his words, had Keira worried that he was trying work up to something that made him anxious.

When only silence met her on the line, Keira sat down on the stairs, pulling her bag between her feet. “Mark? Whatever it is…”

“I know. Hell, I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell you.” He laughed then, clearing his throat. “It’s not like you’ll judge me, I know that and it’s not like our mothers’ schemes are gonna work out.”

Keira smiled, the first time in the week since Kona broke her father’s guitar. “Okay then, so why are you nervous?”

“I’m kinda new at this shit. Hell, I um, wanted you to know that I have a date this weekend.”

Keira rolled her eyes, adding her own laugh to Mark’s. “Dude, that’s good. Did you think I was waiting for you to ask me out again?”

“No, that’s not…Keira, my date, well, I’m going out with Robert Miller on Saturday night.”

Robert was a kid Keira remembered from summer camp. He was nice, big brown eyes and thick blonde hair and he said “please” and “thank you” to everyone, even at eight. Then Keira blinked, realizing what Mark was really saying.

“Oh.” Her breath fogged against her phone and Keira rubbed it dry with her coat sleeve. “Oh,” she said again, trying to gather her thoughts. “Well, Mark, that’s good. I mean, I’m surprised. I had no idea…”

“I know and I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before.”

Keira scooted against the wall when two girls she recognized from the team house walked down the stairs. She didn’t bother watching to see if they glared at her. “It’s no big deal and, let’s be honest, we were sort of doomed as a couple to begin with, right?”

“I guess we were.” In the background on the phone Keira heard the noise of the hospital and she wondered if Mark would reveal anything to her stepfather. She doubted Steven would be welcoming or understanding. Knowing him, he’d likely fire Mark on the spot. A door closed and the sounds of the hospital went silent. “Sorry. I had to sneak into the break room. Listen, I don’t know why I’m telling you about this. I guess hearing my mom on the phone with yours the other day had me worried about you, but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to work up the nerve to ask you on another date.”

“It’s fine, Mark, really.” She didn’t like that her mother was gossiping about her, but really Keira didn’t care that much what she and her friends thought. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to my room. Finals are coming up and I’m gonna spend the weekend locked in my room studying, but thank you for telling me. I guess it can’t be easy, not even in New Orleans.”

“No, but I’m sort of getting to a point where giving a shit isn’t really important to me anymore.”

Keira admired Mark. She loved that he was fine with who he was and part of her was jealous at how he was embracing this discovery about himself. But it wouldn’t be easy, not with his parents, not with anyone they’d both grown up with. “Have you told your mom?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll do that after the holidays. My internship will be over by then. If I told her now, she’d go blabbing to your mom and we both know what will happen then.”

“God yes.” Three more girls ran up the stairs and Keira stood, making room for them on the landing. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, but you let me know if you need anything—if you just need to vent, or anything. And Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you.”

She disconnected the phone and for more than once in that week dreaded going into her room. Leann had rehearsal, was rarely there and Keira had been spending much of her time alone. No Kona, no Leann. It had been confining, suffocating. She had no guitar. She had no keyboards, nothing that would ease the ache in her chest.

Predictably, Kona had called. He’d stopped by a dozen times, but Keira never answered. She needed space from him, again, but this time she wouldn’t run away to Mandeville. The threat her mother made the week before still loomed and Keira was tired of running from her problems. It was something Kona always called her on. But that didn’t mean she was ready to talk to him. She could avoid him away from their English class, but he was impossible to disregard during Miller’s lectures. She left early, arrived late, and sat between Skylar Williams and her boyfriend Dylan Collins, much to the girl’s displeasure. Skylar glared at her for fifty minutes straight, but Keira had felt a different stare on the back of her neck, one that crackled the air in the room. Kona kept his distance, stayed silent when Miller called on Keira in class, but she always felt him staring, always knew he hung onto everything she said.

Keira walked down the hall, eyes immediately going to her door and she only relaxed when she saw the pin board empty. It was the first time in a week that Kona hadn’t scribbled something on a Post It, begging for her to call him. Mingled with that relief was a little disappointment and Keira cursed herself, felt stupid for wanting him so much, for missing him despite everything, but she couldn’t help it. Things were gray, the air too thick when he wasn’t around. He had broken her father’s guitar. He had severed her last tie to the man, the one she loved most, with a crack to the headstock. She should hate Kona for that. She should hate him for forcing her to place that broken guitar in the dumpster, for the empty space not playing music created in her heart.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

As she turned her key and inched the door open, Keira caught the scent of something overpowering and sweet. Stepping inside, she nearly tripped over two vases, both holding a huge bushel of roses. Eyes slipping up, Keira was floored by the ridiculous amounts of flowers in her room. Nearly every surface was covered. The floor, the desk, her dresser, Leann’s bed, hers, the bookshelf; every conceivable free space was covered in roses, tulips and hibiscus. The smell lingered, surrounded her as she stepped further into the room. Keira blinked, head shaking, eyes scanning and she had no doubt who had done this. There was no way Michael would be this over the top. Her cousin’s boyfriend was also always broke and a tattooer’s budget didn’t allow for this kind of ridiculous gesture.

Kona. It had to be. Who else could get flowers this big, this bright in the middle of December? Who else would take the time to arrange petals and single stems all over her bed? Who else would have made the impossible task of fixing her father’s busted guitar happen?

Keira’s mouth fell open and she took two steps, hurried and excited, when she saw the Hummingbird laying in the center of her bed. She picked it up, examining the neck, the headstock for a fray or break, but nothing was there. It was pristine, beautiful, and when she strummed against the strings, the sound was flawless, deep and familiar.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely managing to hold back her tears. The frets still held those precious grooves and Keira felt like she was touching her father, letting his smile kiss each fingertip as she played a few quick chords.

She’d only just noticed the card on her bed and lowered the guitar to her lap to open the envelope and read Kona’s messy scrawl.

I’m nothing without my always. Please don’t leave me lost, Wildcat.

He’d said the P word again and that whispered word she didn’t think he’d remember saying the first time they were together had stuck; it was a detail Kona committed to memory.

Keira wiped her cheeks, her nose clogged and stuffy, but she didn’t care. Her smile made her face ache and she wanted nothing more than to run out of her dorm to find Kona. But before she could leave, Leann walked through the door, her eyes becoming round, growing bigger the more she glanced around the room.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Right?”

Keira stood next to her cousin, still clutching that small note and Leann looked to her bed, smiling when she spotted the guitar.

“He got it fixed.”

“Yeah.” Keira rubbed her nose on her sleeve and followed Leann to her bed, moving three dozen clumps of flowers before she sat next to her.

Her cousin’s gaze kept searching, eyebrows lifting when she spotted another bushel, another ribbon tied grouping of flowers in unusual places. “He’s relentless,” she finally said. Keira shrugged and watched Leann take a rose from the bundle on her lap. Keira knew she was thinking of something, weighing what she should and shouldn’t say before she even met Keira’s eyes. She expected it. Leann generally didn’t lecture, not since that night she’d walked in on Keira and Kona attacking each other’s faces on her bed. She’d cautioned Keira, told her not to let Kona overwhelm her, but had stopped with the tedious warnings about STDs, cheating linebackers and hoes who would take advantage of their fighting.

Leann twirled the rose between her fingers, eyes on the tops of the petals and Keira knew another warning was coming. “It’s not my business to tell you how to live your life, Keira.”

“Since when?” When her cousin didn’t join her in her laugh, Keira leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she waited for the lecture she knew was coming. “Say what you think.”

“I like Kona. He’s nice.” Leann grabbed Keira’s hand and she let her cousin rub her fingernail over the chipping paint on her thumb. “When he’s not acting like a jealous prick, he’s good for you and I’ve never seen you smile the way you have these past few months.”

“But?”

Leann glanced at Keira, then returned her attention back to Keira’s finger. “But, I think the two of you have some serious anger issues.” She took a breath, turning onto the bed to face Keira as though she was just working up enough energy to say what she was thinking, had likely been thinking for a while. “I think you’re both young. I think you’re both dealing with emotions that you’ve never had before. And when you have two people who are…um…prone to angry behavior, then those emotions are exacerbated.”

“Shit, Leann, have you been paying attention in your Psych class or something? Exacerbated? Really?”

Her cousin sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. “I’m being totally serious. You both are dealing with shit you’ve never felt before and you know the tempers, the arguments the…everything else, it’s all exaggerated by what you’re feeling.”

“So, you think we’re bad for each other?”

Leann’s shoulders fell and Keira could tell by how often her eyes moved away from Keira’s face that her cousin was trying not to hurt her feelings.

“I think this relationship isn’t always healthy. That’s all I’m saying.” Leann seemed surprised by Keira’s laugh; she frowned at that high sound and pursed her lips when Keira’s laughter only got louder. “You’re such a bitch. I’m trying to be serious here.”

Keira waved her off, falling to the bed in a fit of giggles when Leann threw a rose at her. “I know you are. I’m…I’m sorry.” She sat up, trying to breathe again. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t think I know all of that? We are certifiable, completely and utterly bat shit crazy.”

“And that’s normal to you?”

“Oh God, no. Kona and I both know we’re totally not good for each other.”

“Then why…”

“Because I love him. Because he loves me. We’re stupid for each other. We push each other’s buttons, Leann and most days I can barely manage to keep from scratching his eyes out.” She sat up then, scooting to the edge of Leann’s bed. “But other times, we’re still and quiet, laying on each other, me scratching my fingers through his hair and him on top of me, arms around me, protecting me from the world. I couldn’t live without that, Leann. I couldn’t live without that and be really happy.”

Her cousin opened her mouth, waved her hand as though she wanted to make a point, but the loud bang on the door silenced her and then Keira forgot Leann’s worry as soon as she jumped off the bed and opened the door.

Kona took a step and then Keira was around him, legs on his waist and her mouth against his before the door closed. Behind them, Keira heard Leann moving around the room, kicking flowers out of her way as she grabbed her dance bag. Her cousin’s presence barely registered. Keira was too caught up in the feel of Kona’s hands on her back, how tightly he hugged her, his lips on her neck as he mumbled “sorry” and “always” over and over.

Keira caught Leann’s retreat before she slipped out of the room, Keira heard her mutter under her breath, “You two are crazy.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

KEIRA

“WE SHOULD HAVE WAITED until you were a hundred percent.” Keira hissed when Kona rubbed the lotion too deeply onto her back. “Shit. Sorry, Wildcat.”

He kissed her just above the freshly inked tattoo and Keira felt the soft bristle of his stubble against her skin. “It’s okay and I’m fine.” She looked over her shoulder and stole a quick kiss. “You worry too much.”

She tried to smooth away that wrinkle between his eyebrows, but it got deeper when Keira closed her eyes, gearing up for another bout of nausea. “See? That’s what I’m talking about,” Kona said. “You’re getting sick again.” He turned her shoulders and pulled her sweater up her back. “You need to rest.”

“I am not relapsing.” But even as she argued, Keira felt her stomach twist, felt the burn of upset rumble. “Ugh.”

“Uh huh.” Kona reached for the trash can and set it next to the bed. “Didn’t you say those girls on the second floor had to miss finals because of they got sick?”

Her boyfriend was insufferable sometimes and Keira could see the worry on his face, that quick lick of tension that told her no amount of lotion rubbing or stolen kisses would have him naked in front of her. Of course, they were at her mother’s lake house and though Christmas was over and her mother and stepdad were still screaming at each other, Kona wouldn’t buy Keira’s promise that they wouldn’t know Keira was naked with her boyfriend in her bedroom.

Still, she had to try. “Let me see how yours is healing.” Keira fought Kona’s hands, batting away her fingers and she smiled, victorious when she got his buttons open.

The tattoo was beautiful, simple and elegant, but still very beautiful. Large looping letters that connected and formed Ku`u Lei, my beloved, right over Kona’s heart. The skin was still flaking, still healing, but the black ink had stayed and Keira placed a small kiss over the word, smiling against Kona’s chest when she felt his fingers shifting through her hair.

Kona had taken Keira to Michael’s tattoo shop, first thing Christmas Eve morning, with his fingers tapping against the steering wheel and a suspicious, wide smile making his face look ridiculous.

“Why am I up at ten a.m. on a Wednesday morning?” When he’d only shrugged, grin splitting wider, she pinched his thigh.

“Ow, you little brat.”

“What are you up to?”

Kona had been up to her Christmas present. He’d stood in front of Michael’s workspace, hands slapping together as Leann’s boyfriend finished up the line drawing, but he wouldn’t let Keira see, wouldn’t let her anywhere near them for the half hour it took Michael to ink those letters into his skin. Finally, the work all done, and Kona’s smile had reached Joker levels, he nodded her over as Michael shot the soapy mixture of liquid onto Kona’s left pec. Ku`u Lei arched onto his skin and as Keira squinted to look at it, he grabbed her hand.

“It means ‘my beloved.’ That’s you, Wildcat.” Then Keira’s smile matched her boyfriend’s and Michael rolled his eyes, mumbling something about stupid tattoos as he walked away from them. He’d picked it because of the book, she was sure, because it was Morrison’s work that brought them to where they’d been that day. That book had been the catalyst, the true meaning behind what Keira wanted, what she thought Kona could never give her.

Ten minutes after Michael babbled on about cleaning and care, Keira had set her mind and she didn’t listen to Kona’s protest when she told her cousin’s boyfriend what she wanted.

“A hibiscus on the center of your back?” Keira didn’t let Michael’s frown detract her. She ignored his attempts at changing his mind.

“Keira, you don’t have to.” Kona had frowned, but she saw the humor in his eyes; the pleased way he stared at her.

She wanted the flower, something that reminded her of Kona’s home, of the ridiculous petals he tore apart and scattered on her bed, wanted it right on the center of her back because that’s where Kona best liked to kiss her. The flower was beautiful—five orange and red petals highlighted in yellow, and deep green leaves all set in front of beautiful black and hooked swirls of filigree. Keira knew her mother would hate it. She thought it was perfect.

Kona’s fingers tightened in her hair when Keira’s mouth lowered over his nipple and she knew he wanted her to stop. She knew he didn’t want to boost the already high tension in that house. It was an understatement to say her mother had not been pleased when Kona stopped by unexpectedly and she grew overly rude when Keira led Kona to her bedroom, telling Keira she wouldn’t let her “Carry on like a slut” in her house. It was Steven, though, that had stunned them all with his small rebuke against his wife’s cruelty.

“The girl is almost nineteen, Cora. There isn’t much you can keep her from doing now. Stop being so rigid.” Her stepfather’s words had been slurred, a bit clipped and that had set off World War Three. Her mother’s shrieking reply to her husband began and the cruel, drunken come backs Steven seemed eager to level at his wife. Keira could still hear the shouts growing louder downstairs.

She pulled back, jumping from her bed when she heard her mother pounding up the stairs. “Keira?” Three quick knocks on the door, which Keira had locked, and then the door rattled. “Keira answer me.”

A quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Kona’s shirt was fastened and Keira opened the door an inch. “What, Mother?”

The woman moved her head around Keira’s arm, eyes squinting before she caught Kona standing in front of the French doors, hands in his pockets. “How long is he staying?” Then, before Keira could answer, she spoke again, voice louder. “This is highly inappropriate. You know that Mark wanted to see you. You know that his parents are having a party tonight and…”

“Mother, just stop.” She leaned against the door staring down into her mother’s red-rimmed eyes, shook her head at the way the woman’s pupils dilated. “Mark and I went out on one date. He’s my friend and he’s moved on to, um, other things. He and I aren’t happening so put it out of your mind.”

“I will not have you and that…that boy up here doing God knows what. Not in my house, Keira.”

“Will you kindly shut the hell up, Cora?” Steven’s voice carried from downstairs and Keira looked down at her feet, trying not to laugh, when her mother’s eyes grew cold, when she straightened her shoulders at her husband’s loud shout.

“You know what?” She told her mother, standing up straight. “Why don’t you worry about your own crumbling relationship and leave mine alone?” The telltale scowl crossed her mother’s face, that heavy anger she always wore anytime Keira defied her and Keira sighed, tired of the scare tactic. She saw the quick circle of her fist, knowing the woman itched to smack her, but Kona behind her in her room was like an electric current, shooting nerve, searing strength into her. She wouldn’t let her mother do that again, especially not in front of her boyfriend. “What? You wanna slap me around some more? Go ahead. Try it.”

Her mother’s shoulders grew tighter, straighter when Kona came to stand behind her, when the huge linebacker opened the door wider and pushed Keira behind him. “I don’t think she wants to do that, Wildcat. Do you, Mrs. Michaels?”

Keira’s mother hated Kona. Keira could see it. It was in the bend of her mouth, the way the woman stepped back. She didn’t quite cower, didn’t show her fear, but Keira knew what that frown meant; she knew that the pinched nose and curling lip meant that Kona’s presence in her home was distinctly distasteful, offensive, as though he was deviling her order, the pristine and sterile faux happiness her mother tried to present to the world. Kona was behind closed doors and he’d seen what their lives were really like. That expression on her mother’s face showed anger, true, but real fear of what others would think, would say if Kona spilled their secrets.

But the woman didn’t respond, didn’t try to threaten either of them. The crash of glass and Steven’s drunken cursing sounded from below and she jumped, turned quickly to move down the stairs.

A quick shut and turn of the lock and Keira leaned against the door, dipping her head against Kona’s chest when he stood in front of her.

“How have you lived with that crazy bitch for so long?”

“You’d be surprised what you get used to.”

He tried to pull away; a soft kiss on the top of her head and Kona inched back, likely wanted to get Keira back in bed to rest. But she hung onto him, fingers curled into his shirt and she inhaled, rubbing her face against that hard, comforting chest. She wanted that distinct smell his skin always gave off to filter into her nose. He was warm, he was always warm, and it was that warmth and the heady smell of his body, of his cologne that Keira captured against her nose and held in her chest.

They had learned each other so well. It had only been months, but Keira knew only Kona could give her what she needed. It was his taste, his comfort that she needed right then; only Kona could drive out the sounds of her mother screaming at her husband. Only Kona could fill her up, make the world fall away with his mouth and touch and addictive body.

She only needed to give him a look. Something brief, something real and Kona’s defenses crumbled. He would never deny her. He would never turn his back on her when she ached for him. That night was no different. One brief smile and the pull of her fingers on his face, bringing him to her mouth, and Kona reacted, gave Keira his mouth, his tongue.

“Can’t get enough?” he said, breaking away from her teeth on his bottom lip.

“Of you? Never.”

Kona returned his attention to her mouth, tongue slipping in like it was welcomed. There was no preamble to those touches, no awkward movement that told Keira he held any hesitance. That died the moment she touched him. They moved together like choreography, each touch, each graze of fingers, giving off the grace of instinct, of desperate need that was natural, innate.

Kona’s hips against hers, his large, strong fingers digging into her backside and Keira smiled, feeling the outline of his erection, thinking she could almost taste how hungry he was for her. “You’re getting sick again, Wildcat. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

Keira was lightheaded and she thought he was right. She thought maybe that flu was reemerging. But with Kona’s body so close to her, with his scent and touch so deeply sown in her senses, she couldn’t let him walk away. She couldn’t ignore what her body wanted from him. “We’ll be quick and then I promise I’ll go right back to bed.” She tugged him down again, rubbing against him, loving the way his eyes rolled up, how that low groan in his throat made her clit tingle. “Stop talking.”

He picked her up then, pulling her legs around his waist and Keira smiled, that same pleased, eager smile she reserved only for Kona when he let her have her way. His chest rumbled with laughter and those large, dark eyes looked up to the ceiling, a long exhale working out of his mouth. “Spoiled brat.”

And then Kona wiped the smile from Keira’s face. Fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans, dipping under her thong so he could touch, capture the smile with his thumb on her clit and his hot, moist mouth on her neck. “Baby, you’re so wet for me.”

They ignored the roar from below, the loud, angry screech of her mother’s high voice and the crash of a glass, perhaps a bottle, slamming against the wall. “I hear where you get your lungs from.” Keira felt too much sensation to comment on his small dig. All that white noise of the room, of the row below them disappeared, shifted from Keira’s mind as Kona’s thumb worked fast, as he slipped two fingers inside her.

“I can’t. Do it, Kona. Please. I need you inside me.”

“Let me get a condom.”

Keira could hear the wind down, the slow finish of her mother and stepfather’s bellowing fight and she knew there wasn’t time. She wanted to feel Kona. She wanted to feel all of him and that touch, that release could not be delayed. “No time, she’ll be back up here in a minute.” She leaned up, twisted her hips so that his fingers went deeper into her and Kona hissed, eyes closing as she squeezed her muscles against his fingers. “Just…just pull out.”

He didn’t need convincing. Kona reached down, picked up a towel from the floor, set it on the table next to the door and pulled Keira’s jeans and thong off her. Then, he slipped inside her. Each thrust he made into her, every snap of him driving into her welcoming body, had Keira’s shoulders bumping against the door and she loved the sound. It was like a melody, their quick movements, the slap of their flesh meeting and Keira wanted more, always more.

“You always feel so good, baby.” His voice was calm, but on the end of his words Kona released a long breath. “So tight and warm. I could eat you alive.”

Keira felt full, sated in the heavy pant of Kona’s breath, in the groans of pleasures that passed over his mouth as he sank in deeper. He planted kisses on her neck, over her face and Keira felt worshipped, wanted, cherished. With every pull against her body, every slick swipe of his thumb on her clit, Keira’s heart pounded and she clamped around Kona inside her, loving the shudder of his shoulders and his grip on her hair.

“Wildcat, you’re so fucking wet tonight. I…I’ll never get tired of how good you feel.” He growled once, liking how she let him lead, how Keira let Kona cherish her body, how she relaxed against him so he could drive deep into her.

Just his praise, those softly grunted words had Keira arching, had Kona’s hips working faster, quicker and she let go and came around him, the orgasm extending, lingering because Kona knew how to touch her, knew what she needed.

She felt so swollen, so full and missed the warmth of his body when Kona jerked out of her and spilled himself moments later onto the towel.

She barely registered Kona moving around the room, tossing the dirty towel into the hamper, tucking himself back into his jeans. Then Kona pulled on her clothes, kissing up her legs, onto her thighs as he shimmed her jeans back over her body. Each kiss was a tribute and Keira slipped her fingers into his hair, over his shoulders as he stood up.

“I love you,” she said, feeling drunk, so high on her man.

His smile was slight, certain and Kona kissed her nose, took her face between his hands. “I love you too, Wildcat.” The easy grin fell when Keira tried to stand, when that dizzy wobble in her head had her feeling fuzzy. Kona grunted, eyes narrowed and stern. “I told you, you’re relapsing.”

“Totally worth it.”

“You need some more meds.” He led her to her bed, pulling back the duvet. “Call tomorrow and get an appointment. I’ll take you in.” She opened her mouth, meant to argue with him, but Kona’s kiss erased whatever protest she might have from her mind. She loved his tongue, how wide it was, how forcefully he moved it into her mouth; it was a drugging distraction that Kona often used. His cell rang and Kona sat up, took that glorious taste from her mouth when he answered the call.

“Yeah? What?” He glanced at Keira and she hated that frown, hated how he turned away from her and rubbed his fingers in his eyes. “Tonight? I’m not in the city right now.” A quick squint at Keira’s clock and Kona’s shoulders lowered. “Give me an hour. I told you I’m not in the city right now, shit. Fine.”

Keira sat up, ignored Kona’s low grunt as she left the bed to join him in front of the French doors. “That was Ricky, wasn’t it?”

“Baby,” he said, kissing her forehead once, “I told you, one last job.”

“Right now? Kona, it’s almost midnight.”

Keira didn’t like this; she didn’t like Kona’s stupid belief that he owed Ricky anything. Ricky, who he’d told her trapped him into selling steroids. Ricky who Kona said needed him for muscle.

“He moved up the drop off date because someone was trying to gank his shipment.” He moved around the room, grabbing his wallet and keys from her bedside table and Keira watched him, a small buzz of worry twisting her stomach.

“And you’re going into the middle of that?” She pulled on his arm, twisting him around to face her. “Are you crazy?” He had to know something was off. He had to know he was walking into something that had Keira’s hand shaking and bile inching up her throat.

“Keira, this is the last time. I told you that.” Keira’s go-to reaction was always anger, especially when she was scared and right then, fright and worry overtook her, had her frowning at Kona, had her pulling away from him when he touched her. She saw the frustration on his face, that slow pull of his features that told her he wavered about what he should do. “Please don’t get mad at me.” Again, he pulled on her arms, hugging her to his chest and some of her worry eased. “Come on, get in bed and sleep. You need to rest up.” She was tired, still a bit woozy from the returning flu and the quickie against the door and she let Kona put her to bed, let him lean over her with his large arms around her waist and those tempting lips against her mouth. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

She pushed him back. “Kona, no…”

“What the hell do you want from me?” She knew Kona wasn’t angry at her. He’d been snippy, on edge since he stopped taking steroids. It was a struggle, an effort he’d told Keira that he fought every day. He’d replace that poison with her, wanting her, needing her like a drug. This anger wasn’t about her, not really. She could always tell the difference between his tempers. It was the situation, her argument that he ignore Ricky’s direction and some mild fear that he was in danger. Still, Kona being Kona meant that he lashed out, just like Keira, at whomever was closet. “I’m trying to cut this shit loose but I have to do this. One last time, I promise you.”

“Not by yourself.” Keira kicked off the covers, tugged Kona’s hand away from the French door handle when he tried to open it. “Call Luka. Please, Kona, don’t do this by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, pulling his hand off the handle when she tried to stop him. “Me on North Rampart is nothing and any assholes that are there will think I’m the monster hiding in the shadows.”

That twist in her stomach grew heavier and when Keira hesitated, frown deepened, Kona picked her up, kissing her as he walked her back to her bed.

“Go to sleep, Wildcat and I’ll call you in the morning.” She couldn’t let him go, couldn’t make her arms untangle from their spot around his neck. Keira wanted him to know her fear, to take it seriously. That unnamed sensation of dread crawled into her chest, made breathing difficult and her fear must have been etched across her face. Kona’s small temper faded and he took her face in his large hand. “You worry too much, baby.” A small kiss that lingered and Keira felt the small whip of electricity move between them. Kona reared back, smiling. “I love you.”

He was off the bed and out on her balcony before Keira could reply. That burning dread in her gut only simmered more and Keira watched Kona leave around the side of her house, hurrying across her back lawn. She couldn’t let him do this on his own. She couldn’t be the only sensible voice telling him he was in danger.

Shaking her head, fighting back that lightheaded sensation, Keira dug in her bag, fishing for her phone. She thumbed through the contacts, skipping past Leann’s name until she got to the number she wanted and quickly punched the call button. Two rings, three and then her mother pounded on the door.

Keira unlocked the door and her mother didn’t wait for an invitation.

I don’t have time for this, she thought holding up her hand when her mother opened her mouth to speak.

The caller answered, a quick “Hey you,” but then her mother jerked her phone out of Keira’s hand and ended the call. “You will not ignore me, you little shit and Keira, that is the last time…”

“Mother, will you please shut up?”

She reached for the phone, sidestepping when her mother swatted at her and Keira could feel the anger billowing between them. The woman had chosen the wrong damn time to pick a fight with her and Keira’s temper rose past the feeling of worry and fear that Kona’s departure had caused.

“Don’t you talk to me like that. I know what you were doing, Keira Nicole, I heard you and…”

When her phone rang, Keira darted forward, catching the bottom half of her mother’s palm on her chin. Keira leaned back, stretching her neck to look up at the ceiling, praying that the fury in her chest wouldn’t have her doing something stupid. But as she looked back at her mother, the Nokia in her fist ringing like a siren, Keira decided, just then, that she didn’t care about the woman’s anger or the drunken rage that had her sneering at Keira like she hated her.

The feeling was mutual.

Taking a breath, her mother tossed the phone on Keira’s bed and curled her arms over her chest. “You and I are going to have that conversation now.”

“No. We’re really not.” The woman tried stopping Keira when she darted toward her bed. She slapped the back of Keira’s head, punched her shoulders, but the girl was too focused on stopping Kona from doing something epically stupid. She had the Nokia in her hand when her mother yanked on her hair, tugging her backward and that pinching ache on her roots had her yelling, jerking back to send and elbow right in the center of her mother’s chest.

The woman staggered, then fell on her ass and Keira didn’t take time to enjoy the rounded eyes or the way her mother’s mouth dropped open in shock. It was a memory she’d store for another moment, when she had time to cradle that happy sight. “You ever hit me again and I swear on Daddy’s grave I will knock you into next week. Better still, I’ll take all those pictures Leann’s taken of me for years, sporting your handiwork straight to the cops, Mother. You think your friends would be interested in those? Now back off and leave me alone.”

Keira ignored the low sob her mother released and the rattle of her door as the woman slammed it shut. She hit the call button once more and stared out onto the lake as the moonlight shimmered across the still water. Her prayers were silent, pleading as the call kept ringing. Finally, that deep voice answered and Keira exhaled.

“Hey. It’s me. I really need your help. Can you meet me outside your house in an hour?”

***

Kona

THE HOTEL SMELLED LIKE BLEACH. It was a filthy by-the-hour place a few blocks from N. Rampart Street, fringing the outskirts of Treme. Kona stood outside, leaning against the dirty brick wall waiting for Ricky’s delivery, trying to look small, hiding in the dark shadows of the alleyway that backed up onto a row of rusted dumpsters. The smell was unbelievable—raw, moldy food, a stray needle or two on the pavement and floods of black trash bags tipping the tops of the trash bins. All around him was graffiti, some beautiful, haunting skulls and crossbones, most tags of gang names that marked the territory.

Ricky was inside that small hotel room that Kona had only stepped in and then quickly abandoned a half hour before. It smelled like burnt hair and submission, but that didn’t seem to bother Ricky. He was only there to catch a nut before his shipment arrived. Kona heard the man moaning, finishing up with a hooker from one of the mob strip joints somewhere in the Quarter. Kona could hear them inside, Ricky calling the girl a dirty slut, the smack of his hand on the girl’s ass and her high-pitched squeal each time he smacked her. Heroin, Kona figured. What else would make a girl that tiny, that pretty sweat herself raw every night on a pole or give herself over to a pox-marked, rail thin asshole like Ricky?

Kona didn’t want to be there. He wanted his Wildcat, wanted this favor he owed Ricky to be over. He really wanted to drown out that slap on skin and the squeak of the rusted springs on the bed inside that room.

Kona pushed off from the wall, managing a slight nod to Ricky’s’ two boys who passed a cigarette between each other as they watched the street. They were both smaller than Kona, at least by five inches and each wore faded jeans and threadbare, dark coats.

Marco was the shorter of the two, a Spanish kid from the Irish Channel with one of his front teeth missing. The other was Lil Eddie, boxier than Marco with pale skin and dark eyes. Kona didn’t know much about him except that he was new to Ricky’s crew and had hands like a girl. It had freaked Kona out a little the first time he shook Eddie’s hand—how smooth his palm was, how soft, as though he’d never lifted a finger to work hard his entire life. Kona didn’t trust either of them, but Eddie especially had the hairs on the back of Kona’s neck standing on end.

Marco’s sharp whistle brought Kona’s attention back to the street and to the yellow ’68 Mustang that pulled up along the sidewalk in front of the hotel. He and Lil Eddie kept watch, standing on either side of the car and Kona gnawed on his cheek, eyes squinted at Keith, Ricky’s boy as he slid out of the car.

“Kona. What’s up, man?” Keith was mixed, light skinned with bright green eyes, pupils always dilated. Ricky trusted him, told Kona that Keith would be too scared of him to shortchange his shipment, but Kona knew better. He’d seen this asshole placing bets against CPU throughout the season. He’d seen him lurking around the locker room and team house when Ricky wasn’t around. This guy had his sights on replacing Kona as Ricky’s supplier to the team. Kona didn’t care about being traded, he just didn’t want his teammates messed up with Ricky’s shit.

Kona shook his hand as Keith approached but didn’t smile at the guy and stepped back, leveling two quick pounds on the door to get Ricky’s attention.

“He in there?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes at Kona.

A quick jerk of Kona’s chin and Keith stepped forward, but he slipped in front of the door, blocking Keith from entering. “He’s busy.”

Kona crossed his arms, depending on his size and bulk to intimidate Keith. It usually worked; most people took one look at him and walked the other way, but Keith had been around Kona often enough, had likely seen enough shit in the hustle that Kona didn’t seem like much of a threat.

“I gotcha, man.” The fluorescent light above the door cast a small glint off of Keith’s too white teeth when he smiled at Kona. Eyes over Kona’s shoulder, Keith’s features relaxed as Ricky opened the door and walked out of the room. “I’m early, dude. I get a bonus?” That bonus Keith wanted stumbled away from Ricky, pulling down her short skirt and tucking a small baggy into her bra. The girl walked with her head down and her arms around her middle as though she thought not looking at anyone would make her seem less obvious, would somehow hide the shit she’d just let Ricky do to her.

“Fuck you, man. That ain’t your bonus.” He slapped Keith on the back of the head. “Stop running your mouth and get my shit.”

Something in the air, maybe the cool looks Lil Eddie and Keith passed to each other as they popped the trunk, had Kona’s gut twisting. He stepped forward, away from Ricky and watched the two men pull duffle bag after duffle bag out of the car.

“Why am I here, man?” Kona asked Ricky when he came to his side.

“To keep assholes like those three in line.” Ricky stretched, shoulders relaxed, movements slow and a stupid, eager grin bending his mouth. Kona knew he watched him, knew he was sizing him up, taking in the way Kona moved his eyes up and down the street. Something was off, he felt it in bones, but Ricky seemed too sated, too calm to catch that air of caution moving in the frigid January wind. A quick tap on Kona’s shoulder and Ricky’s smile moved off his face and worry lines on the guy’s forehead deepened. “Why you so jumpy?”

“I’m not.” Kona rubbed his neck, pulling out the tension that bunched between his muscles. “Just ready for this shit to be over.”

A homeless guy pushing a covered shopping cart weaved the buggy down the street, head down as he sang something Kona thought might have been “Amazing Grace.” He and Ricky both watched the man in his dingy gray slacks and broken soled shoes as his voice carried around the quiet street. Three blocks away from them, the Quarter was still reeling from New Year’s, still lively and active with the thrill that 1998 promised. Fleeting, Kona thought about Keira, about how he could get her out of her mother’s house, away from Mandeville and the threat that always lingered in that place. He could get a job, maybe work nights so they could land an apartment. It would be tough. They’d struggle, but at least Keira would be out of that bitch’s house.

He shifted his eyes at Ricky, shaking his head at him when Marco tossed a duffle bag to Keith who almost dropped it. Kona pushed back the thought of working with Ricky again. He wouldn’t have Keira around that shit. It was too dangerous.

“I love this fucking city,” Ricky said, spreading his arms wide. “Service-based economy just ripe with crack heads and greedy bar owners. It’s a damn goldmine if you’ve got the right product.” Ricky’s smile dropped from his face when Kona only stared back at him. He took to sizing Kona up again, watching the dispassionate way the linebacker blinked at him. “You’re a dumbass, Kona.”

He’d heard it before. As a kid, when he struggled to read aloud in class, but Kona wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t want anyone calling him dumb, especially not some stupid thug who hadn’t managed to make it out of eighth grade. Ricky didn’t flinch when Kona turned toward him, didn’t do much else but move his hand to the gun in his waistband.

“You wanna say that again?”

Ricky shrugged, waving off Kona’s anger and he pushed his hand into his front pocket. “You sitting on a goldmine. You can make a lot of bank on that campus. All those rich bitches do what you tell them, follow your lead.” It was the same line of bullshit Ricky always preached to Kona. He didn’t need to hear it. He turned back around, facing the Mustang again, but Ricky kept his gaze on Kona, his bid of convincing not quite done. “That’s why I picked you, man. Dudes wanna be you, chicks wanna do you because you got that thing. You’re a shepherd, not a sheep. I need shepherds, Kona, especially ones that scare the shit out of folk who think they can take what’s mine.” Ricky touched Kona’s shoulder and he glared at the asshole’s thin fingers. But Ricky didn’t jerk away from him; he only shrugged as though Kona’s reaction was expected. “You don’t have to do it for long, man. You got, what, two more years? That’s plenty of time to set up some nice change for you and your girl.” A quick snap of his eyes back at Ricky, and the guy laughed. “Fuck man, you need to ease up. I’m just sayin.” He whistled, a long, squeak of a sound that rang in Kona’s ears. “I ain’t never seen a dude so sprung over his chick.”

“I’m not interested in this shit anymore, Ricky. I told you that. So why don’t you leave me out of your big picture, you feel me?” Kona was done with Ricky’s bullshit. He was done with the mumbles Keith and Eddie made to one another. He’d count the shipment and leave all this mess behind, but before he left Ricky standing by himself, he faced him again, pointed his finger in the guy’s chest. “Don’t you worry about how sprung I am over my girl. Don’t even put her in your head.”

Kona recognized the disappointment, the anger. He’d seen Ricky give that same look to Micah Burns when the idiot lifted two vials from him last spring. Stupid jackass spent four weeks in the hospital. But Ricky didn’t lash out, barely reacted with more than a frown at Kona’s anger. “Fine. Just trying to hook you up. You know, thug life…thug wife. Quit mean mugging me and go count the damn shipment.”

And Kona did, sifted through each black bag with Keith and Eddie on one side of the car and Marco and Ricky on the other. He counted each pack, four vials in each satchel, twenty satchels in each bag. Until he came to the last duffle bag. It was five light. He closed his eyes, knowing this would cause a shit; knowing that Ricky would make sure he was in the thick of it.

“It’s under,” he told Ricky, still kneeling on the ground. When the guy walked next to him, Kona narrowed his eyes, squinting up at Eddie and Keith and caught the way Eddie slipped his hand under his coat. Ricky’s anger was quick and he pulled out his gun, sticking his hand in the duffle bag right at Kona’s side. “Watch Keith and Eddie. They’ve been sketchy as fuck all night,” Kona told him and Ricky nodded, sucking on his teeth. Then, before Kona could blink, Ricky darted up, pointed his gun right at Keith.

“You got my shit, man?” He took a step, Marco moving out of his way.

Kona backed up, grabbed Marco by the collar to pull him to his side when Eddie pointed his gun at Ricky.

“Motherfucker…”

“I didn’t take shit, Ricky. You know that.” The gun shook in Eddie’s and his voice was pitched and shaking. “I’m your boy. You just need to chill, man. Be cool. You know me, man.”

“All I know is you got your gun pointed at my chest. Where’s my shit, Ed? What you do with it?”

At Eddie’s side, Keith held up his hands, but Kona watched his face, saw how his cheek twitched, how he tried to hold back a smile. Then, his eyes moved, stared right at Kona. “Ricky, man, you know Eddie wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t. Hale here is the only one trying to punk out. Look how jumpy he’s been all night.”

Kona stepped up, shoulders squared and Ricky inched back, gaze moving between Kona and the gun pointed right at him. “Fuck you, Keith,” Kona told the punk. “I want out but I’m not trying to gank anything. Don’t be a dumbass. You been sniffing around campus for months, selling to other teams, you think I don’t see you? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Ricky would believe him, at least, that’s what Kona told himself. Keith was a slimy shit, he’d heard Ricky complaining about the guy more than once, but when Keith smiled, nodded toward Kona, Ricky backed up further and moved the gun at Kona’s head.

“You trying to play me, man? You been jumpy for months, ever since you got with that bitch.”

Kona had to clench his fists together, had to pull back his anger, his fear so that no one got itchy fingers. “No, man. I don’t have anything of yours. I don’t give a shit what you sell or how much you make doing it.” He took a step, cautiously, narrowing his eyes at Ricky’s finger curled around the trigger. “I just want out. I promise, I just want to get out of this shit.”

“And sell your own product, that right, Hale?” Keith’s voice, his pinched eyes, only doused rage and ire onto the inferno building in Kona’s mind.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. You don’t know me. You don’t know shit.”

“Yeah, but I do.” Ricky lowered his gun, only a fraction and behind him Keith and Eddie relaxed. Kona saw it, the quick whip of Ricky’s eyes, how he moved the corner of his mouth to the side, a small grin that told Kona that shit was about to go bad very quickly. “I know exactly who you are, Kona.” And then Ricky twisted around, squeezed off two shots right at Keith and Eddie. Both men fell to the ground, cold, lifeless.

“Son of a bitch,” Marco said, behind them. “Ricky, man…”

“Shut up. Be cool,” Ricky told the kid and Kona stood frozen, eyes blurring as he stared down at the bodies. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run and when he heard the whine of brakes behind him, when he turned and saw Keira trailing behind Luka in the middle of the street, Kona wanted take back the past hour. He wanted to be in her room, inside her, ignoring the world. He wondered if a twenty-year-old athlete could have a heart attack just from sheer terror.

“Kona, man,” Ricky said, checking the magazine in his gun. “This is a fucking problem.”

***

Keira

“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing here?” Kona hadn’t let Keira move more than five feet from her car. He stalked toward her angry, face pinched up like a cork and for once, Keira was truly afraid of her boyfriend. There was rage, fear in his eyes and she could see, just from the way he moved toward her, that his fingers shook and his limbs swung with a shudder. Keira held up her hands, trying to get him to calm and Luka stepped in front of her, pushing back on his twin’s chest. “You stupid son of a bitch, you brought her here?” He had his hands around Luka’s collar, jerked him once before Keira could reach them.

“Kona, no. Stop, please!” Keira stumbled when Kona held out his arm against her hands.

“We were worried, brah. We knew this would go bad.” Luka pushed again and moved his chin, looking past the Mustang blocking the alleyway. “It went as bad as it could go, Kona.” Luka straightened, brushed his brother off of him. “Did you do this?” Another nod and Kona stared at the limp forms lying on the ground.

“Kona, we don’t have time for the family drama bullshit.” He waved his hand, silencing the tall guy Keira recognized as Ricky.

Her stare locked onto the dead men’s, to the guy pulling on a body, dragging blood in a trail toward the dumpster. At her side Kona and Luka kept arguing, but Keira walked forward, stomach rumbling as she watched Ricky wipe his gun against the sleeve of his coat. He caught her stare, squinted hard as Keira’s steps came closer. There was so much blood. So much blood everywhere.

“Don’t look, Keira,” Kona told her, pulling on her shoulder. He shook her, jerking her around and gripped her face in her hands. “Why are you here? Why the hell are you here?”

Her gaze went to the side, back to the blood and Kona pulled her chin. “I…I had a bad feeling.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat and grabbed his fingers. “Baby did you do this?”

Kona dropped his hands, as though he’d been stung and he took two steps away from her. “You think I could?”

“No,” she told him, grabbing his hand. Keira inhaled, shook her head. “No I don’t.”

She saw something in his eyes then; the hard glare that broke apart his calm, that had that steady shudder in his fingers moving quicker, a tremble that shot up his arm and over his features.

Keira wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she should have listened, but her heart pounded too hard and that expression on Kona’s face—the one she knew was fury and fear—stunned her silent. This was the bad she’d known was coming the moment Kona left her room and it wasn’t done. If Keira knew anything, it was that the bad had not yet played itself out.

Kona’s stare only moved from Keira when Luka stood next to them, when his voice took on a desperate tone as Ricky walked away from the Mustang.

“Kona, let’s get out of here,” Luka said, pulling on his brother’s arms.

He was frightened, Keira knew that, but his pride, his forced bluster surfaced when Ricky met them in the middle of the street. “He’s not going anywhere. He owes me and he’s paying me back. Take that little bitch and get the fuck out of here.”

Kona jerked around, pushed Ricky back so that the asshole stumbled back before he found his footing. “What did you say? What did you call her?”

“Back off, man.” Ricky’s voice was cool, calm, but Keira noticed the grip on his gun tighten. “I don’t have time for…” That approaching bad silenced them all, coiled tight in Keira’s voice when every head turned toward the sound of sirens in the distance. Ricky’s reaction was quick, fierce as he raised his gun at Kona. “You motherfucker. You fucking rat!”

“I didn’t do shit. I didn’t say shit to anybody.” Kona held up his hands, placating, sincere, but he side stepped, stood right in front of Keira.

The sirens squealed louder and Ricky seemed conflicted, mouth curled up and he rested his gun on his head as though he didn’t know what to believe or who to trust. “I shot my boy when it was you who ratted me out!”

“It wasn’t me, asshole.” Keira could feel the anger radiating from Kona, she felt the hard tremble in his shoulders and she pulled on his hoodie, covering her face with that soft fabric.

Everything happened in a blur; it was a slip of time that Keira thought went quickly and that was slowed into seconds of action all at the same time. Ricky’s gun pointed back at Kona, curses loud, morphed in the shock of fluid quickness, the blast of the gun cracking against the screech of sirens and Keira scream, deafening and surreal to her own ears, Luka twisting forward, Kona’s shout as he turned to her.

And then, she was falling, Kona on top of her, his wide, looming chest against her face, his arms curled around her head and then time sped up with the retreat of Ricky’s running feet and the high burn of the Mustang’s tires on the pavement.

The noise came back to her then, like the sharpness in sound given with the pop of eardrums and Keira registered Kona bowing up from the street, pulling her to her feet, his hands skimming over her body, his arms pulling her to his chest.

“You’re okay, Wildcat. He didn’t get you. He didn’t get you.” Kona’s words came with a breath of relief, resignation that she wasn’t hurt, but Keira pushed him back, lifted his hoodie to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“You either. Thank God, baby.”

“Lu, what about you?” Kona shifted, gaze rapid and around the street until he found his twin, lying on his back.

The bad kept coming.

“Luka!! No, no, fuck no!” Kona fell to his knees at his brother’s side, pulling on his coat to slide the large body in his lap. Blood pooled in the center of Luka’s stomach and his breath came out in ragged, heavy pants, clotted behind the gurgle in his lungs. But Kona didn’t notice that; he didn’t seem to see anything but his brother’s hand reaching for him and those black eyes moving over Kona’s face. “Lu, come on man. We’ve got to go.”

“Kona?” Luka’s voice was weak and Keira heard the gurgle behind his words, how each syllable came out with effort. “It burns, brah. It burns so bad.”

The sirens grew louder, sharper and Keira came to Luka’s other side, tears falling from her eyes when Kona kissed his brother’s forehead, when he held his falling hand.

“We’ll get you help, kaikua’ana. I’ll get…help…” That gurgle in Luka’s throat stopped, went completely silent and then something happened to Kona. Luka barely managing to keep his eyes open and the linebacker groaned, cursed loud before he shook his head. “No, Luka. We have to get our rings first.” He shook his twin, chin working, trembling as Kona pulled Luka closer to his chest. “Lu, come on. Lu?” When Luka didn’t answer and Kona’s face was completely wet, nose clogged, Kona groaned, mumbled something under his breath before he shook his head. “Fuck this. No! We’ve got to get you to a doctor. Come on, brah.” Kona struggled with Luka’s weight as he staggered to his feet, grunting through his teeth before he caught Keira’s eyes. “Baby please help me! Help me get him to the hospital.”

But she knew, even as she pulled Luka’s arm over her shoulder, even as Kona dragged his brother toward her car, his feet sliding behind them, blood staining the cream leather of her backseat, Keira knew that Luka was already gone.

Kona flew down the street, his sobs fractured between prayers he said aloud and Keira flew across the backseat, holding Luka upright when Kona took a hard right. Her hands slipped in the blood as she tried to fasten Luka’s seatbelt. She stayed with him, right beside him, hoping she could see his chest moving, hoping that the still, fixed stare would shift, move. She prayed for a blink, for a cough, anything that would have Luka waking up, but nothing came.

“It’s okay, man. We’re almost there. University’s down the way. We’re good, Lu. We’ll be good.” Kona kept looking behind him, eyes on his brother, glimpses at Keira as he thundered down the street. He reached behind the driver’s seat, grabbing onto Luka’s hand and Keira saw him shudder, heard the sob trapped in his throat when he pulled back a bloody hand. “Fuck! FUCK!” He slammed his fist into her console, once, twice, shattering the radio until bits of silver plastic stuck into his knuckles.

“Kona, you have to slow down. Please, baby”

He caught her eyes in the rearview mirror and the look he gave her had her hands shaking, her legs twitching; the fear coiled deep, burned her stomach. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you listen? Why didn’t you stay home? Why did you call him?”

“I was scared. He was scared.” Dread. That was the only word for what worked in Keira’s chest; there was too much sensation—the cold drip of Luka’s blood drying on her hand, the scream of sirens behind them as they flew faster and faster down the street, Kona’s curses, his angry words shouted at Keira and she couldn’t take it, couldn’t sort all that noise, all that fear in her mind. She couldn’t stop her eyes from burning or the hot track of her tears down her face.

Keira covered her ears, tried to rub away the sound of Ricky’s gunshot and Kona’s poorly suppressed crying. “We wanted to help you.” She heard Kona sob, heard the low prayers he made and the sirens behind them, the cruisers speeding past them wailing their horns. “Kona, you have to pull over. They’re chasing us. Please!”

But Kona wasn’t listening, didn’t hear her, didn’t noticed the beams of red and blue light streaming through the windows. “You should have stayed!” he screamed, taking a curve too quickly, the tires crying against the pavement. “You should have fucking stayed, Keira!”

She slipped into her seatbelt, vision blurred with her tears, her head muddy with fear, with heartache. She settled next to Luka, her head on his shoulder and she reached up to brush her fingertips over his open lids. They should be closed.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, feeling the tight clench in her heart twisting, burning until she couldn’t breathe. “I’m so sorry, Luka.”

The squeal of tires started again, became louder than the sirens chasing behind him. Keira heard Kona’s scream, the angry rage that pierced her ears, then with the rip of a crash, Keira’s body jerked forward and the silence took them.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KEIRA

KEIRA’S MOTHER never wore slippers. Even at home, when no one was expected, when she wouldn’t be entertaining her friends or pretending that the shine of their lives was tarnished, she always took care with her footwear. Wedges, sandals, pumps and heels, all designer, all obnoxiously expensive, but the woman did not own a single pair of slippers.

It was slippers, though, that Keira saw when she blinked awake. They were pink, thin, and very clean, as though they’d just been pulled from cardboard and plastic. Her eyes shifted up her mother’s legs, over the charcoal slacks she wore and onto the pink cardigan slung on her shoulders. The sweater was fastened with a broach, diamonds that were as bright, as clean as the perfect polish on her mother’s pink nails.

Keira stared at that broach, gaze blurring at the sparkle reflected against the overhead light and she did not put much thought into the pound drumming in her head or the burning ache of her shoulder. She pretended to feel nothing and Keira believed if she stared long enough at her mother’s polished appearance and that shining jewel below her throat, time would not press forward. She would not be in this hospital, sore and bruised.

Luka would not be dead.

“I’ve called the nurse, Keira. She’ll fetch you some pain meds.”

“I don’t want them.” She didn’t look at her mother when she spoke, didn’t move her eyes from that gaudy broach until the woman came to her bedside. And when she lifted her eyes, shot a quick glimpse at the scowl on her mother’s face, Keira returned to the distracting blur that dulled her attention.

“You’ve really done it now, haven’t you?”

“Mother, please don’t. Not yet.”

“When would you recommend we discuss this mess?”

The nurse came in and her mother stepped back, let the woman in the blue scrubs fiddle around with Keira’s I.V. and push a thermometer in her ear.

“How’s your pain?” the nurse asked, smiling down at Keira; a soft grip on her hand. Keira tried to return the woman’s smile; she had a kind face, wide mouth, teeth straight and clean and hazel eyes that shone against the cocoa cream of her skin. But Keira could not bring herself to do much more than stare at her, blinking once before she shrugged. “We’ll need to monitor you tonight and in the morning you’ll go down for your procedure.”

“What procedure?”

The nurse exchanged a glance with Keira’s mother before she patted Keira’s arm. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Dr. Mitchell does terminations every week and she’s very gentle.” The nurse picked up Keira’s chart and scribbled along the form, attention away from Keira’s open-mouth expression.

“Wait. What are you talking about? I thought I just sprained my elbow. What termination?”

Those slippers again, tiny feet that approached the bed and the dull ache in Keira’s chest smarted. “It’s fine, I’ll explain everything to her,” Keira’s mother said, nodding toward the door, dismissing the nurse.

Her nametag read “Renée” with a little accent over the first “e” and that kind smile dropped from her face. “You let me know if you want anything for the pain, okay, sweetie?”

Keira inched herself up, brushing off her mother’s attempts to help her and she moved her leg away from the edge of the bed when the woman sat down. She wouldn’t look directly in Keira’s face; didn’t seem interested in anything other than her long nails.

“You want to explain what the hell is going on, Mother?”

Finally, she rested her hands on her lap and when she looked at Keira, her eyebrows arched as much as the Botox would allow, Keira’s mother frowned.

“You’re pregnant. About five weeks.”

That revelation hit Keira like an anvil to the chest. She turned away from her mother’s frown and dates, weeks, flitted through her mind. When was her last period? When could this have happened? She took her pill religiously, every night, eight p.m. like clockwork and she and Kona were always careful.

The shower, she thought. The damn shower.

“Are they sure? How…wait, I don’t understand…”

“They’re sure. It’s one of the tests they ran when you came in. They had to know before they did the X-rays. You were down with the flu last month, remember? All those antibiotics.” Her mother rolled her eyes as though she thought Keira was the simplest, stupidest idiot she’d ever seen. “Antibiotics counteract the pill.” Keira could only stare at her mother, ignoring how deep her frown had pulled wrinkles on the side of her face. She didn’t care about the scowl the woman gave her or how her lip twitched with a curl. She was carrying Kona’s baby.

A baby?

It didn’t seem real; felt somehow like she was outside of herself; like this was a dream, a nightmare that was vividly, achingly detailed. She didn’t know how she felt. The news was raw, a gaping wound that bled as hard as Luka’s loss. Would this baby heal Kona’s broken heart? Would it be a small replacement for the brother that had been stolen from him?

Wait. Termination. The word felt dirty, bitter and when Keira realized what her mother wanted, what she’d already planned, that small glimmer of hope in her chest dulled.

“I’ve spoken with Kona’s mother.”

“You did what?” Keira had never wanted to hit her mother more than she did now. What the hell had she done while Keira lay unconscious in the hospital? It was clear that she was rerouting Keira's life, making attempts to change the course of how it would go. It didn’t surprise her in the least, but to reach out to Kona’s mother? Especially when their family was dealing with Luka’s loss?

“Steven saw her yesterday morning. She’d come to claim the body and arrange the burial.” Her mother waved her hand as though Luka’s death was a footnote to the point of her story. “I introduced myself and explained to her about your tests. We both agreed that terminating this pregnancy would be in both your and Kona’s best interest.”

“You both agreed?”

“Of course. You are too young to be a mother and that poor woman is dealing with far too much to be saddled with the role of grandmother. Trust me, you’ll thank me one day.”

Keira felt like a puppet. Her mother pulled the strings, twisted her this way and that until she danced, until she moved toward a long stage, one that her mother had set with checkpoints of expectations. She wanted to clip those strings. She wanted to clip them and wrap them around her mother's neck.

She knew the open mouth, then the closed, hooded look she gave her mother was full of anger, but Keira didn’t care. Kona’s mother, her own, were thinking about this child’s impact on their lives; they wanted to snatch the decision, the responsibility from both of them and Keira wouldn’t have it. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Watch your mouth, Keira.”

The laughter, when it came, moved up her belly. It was loud, rude and highly unamused and it hurt with the dull ache that tasted like bitterness. “You tell me you’ve decided that you want me to kill my baby and all you can think to say is ‘watch your mouth’?”

That laughter turned cold, stripped into the smart burn of tears Keira let fall over her face. She took to holding herself around her middle, trying to comfort the small person growing inside her, the one she hoped would be a salve over the anguish of the past week. She wanted Kona. She needed his arms, his strength, his protection from the world, from her mother’s cruelty, that she’d come to depend on so desperately. Brushing off her mother’s useless touches, Keira rubbed her face dry with the back of her hand. “Where’s Kona?”

“You don’t need to worry about him right now. He’s got enough trouble.”

Keira knew her mother meant to disregard her question. She didn’t want Keira asking about Kona or caring what happened to him and when the woman moved away from her, sitting back in her chair as though she wouldn’t give Keira any news on what happened to her boyfriend, she grabbed her mother’s wrist and jerked her forward. “Where is he?”

Keira was past caring about the shock on her mother’s face or the way the threatening scowl she wore blared a warning that she’d soon lash out, strike. “Orleans Parish prison,” her mother finally said, extracting her wrist from Keira’s tight hold. “He’s been arrested for accessory to murder. He was there when those boys were killed and won’t be getting out anytime soon.” The tears came so hard now that Keira could feel a knot working in the back of her throat and still her mother continued, voice impassive, uncaring. “His mother agreed that telling Kona anything about the baby would be a bad idea right now. He’s just lost his twin because of his own irresponsibility and by the time he’s out, the procedure will be complete. No need to rub salt in wounds.”

The woman smiled, a pleased, contented expression that told Keira this baby, the loss and the irrevocably broken lives could be pushed under the rug, brushed aside as though none of it really mattered. Taking a breath, steeling herself for the argument she knew would come, Keira lifted the sheet from her lap and dried her face. Then, mimicking her mother’s unaffected tone, she smiled. “There isn’t going to be any procedure.”

“What?”

“I’m not having an abortion. How in God’s name did you ever get my consent?” She narrowed her eyes at her mother, knowing instantly that there had been more under-the-rug brushing. “You waited until I was out of it, didn’t you? You had Steven hush things over and then what? Told Dr. Mitchell that I’d consent? My God, mother, how low would you go to get your way?”

“I’d do whatever it takes, Keira. I’d do anything to make sure you don’t throw your life away like I did.” Keira’s mother sound weak, pathetic, but behind the low whisper of her words, lay the ever-present threat, the grasp of reason, purpose that only made sense to her mother. “Why do you think I’m so hard on you? I push you because I want you to make smart choices.”

The sad thing was, the woman honestly believed that. Keira’s body hurt. Her tears had clogged up her sinuses, had her breathing through her mouth and she wanted her mother to leave. She wanted her to know that the only thing that mattered to her was this child, its safety and the hope she believed it would bring to their lives.

“No, Mother, you push me so I do what you want me to do. And when I don’t, when I show the smallest bit of free will, you smack me around until I fall in line.”

Her mother shook her head, frown heavy. “If I’ve been harsh, it’s because I want you to realize your potential. I want you to use your limited attributes.”

And there was the crux of so many of the issues Keira ever had with her mother. She blinked at the woman, measured the set of her impassive expression, the cold shift of her eyes and Keira was left helpless, struck dumb by the cruelty her mother held in every blink of her eye and unrestrained expression. Keira would always be nothing more to this woman than a visual shell, nothing of substance, no women were to her save as a pretty picture fashioned through instance and urging.

“My limited attributes? You mean my face? My body?”

Her mother touched her chin, fingers soft and surprisingly kind against Keira bruised skin. “We’ve worked hard to make sure you grew into that face. How many times have I told you…”

The slap came sharp, loud; Keira’s palm against her mother’s hand and the woman stepped back, shocked, surprised that her daughter had lashed out. “Limited attributes?” Keira said again, rising her voice. “My face, my body, what I look like? Not what’s in my heart? Not if I’m kind or good or generous? Not my mind, God, no you don’t care if I’m smart. You just want me to smile and agree with whatever asshole you find suitable enough for me, right?” Her mother took another step back, glaring at Keira as though she didn’t recognize her. “You don’t care that I live and breathe and exist for music. You don’t care if I’m the Valedictorian a hundred times over or if I know Chaucer or Shakespeare or the stories a thousand years old that have changed what I feel, what I believe in. Those aren’t attributes to you, Mother.

“You only care that I’m pretty and all I’ve ever, ever wanted for you to say to me is that I was pretty smart, pretty talented, pretty kind, anything, Mother, anything than just plain pretty. But you can’t do that. You don’t know how. You live inside your little box where everything is white and traditional and frozen in a time that died a long time ago.” Tears streaming over her cheeks, Keira wiped them away, annoyed, worked up. “You don’t struggle, you don’t need, you don’t want and all you care about is that I become a carbon copy of you. But I won’t be. I can’t be. There is too much of my father in me and he taught me something you could never beat out of me; he taught me to love blindly. He taught me that there is magic in music, that every single important purpose in life is about finding that magic and holding it inside you. And I took that magic and embraced it and it led me to a boy who is nothing like you; who is loud and large and beautiful. I love him. I love him more than breath and I will not walk away from him and there is no way in hell I will kill his baby.”

Her mother kicked up from the chair, sending it sliding behind her. “You’re being irrational, Keira, just like your father. I knew this would happen. I knew it the second that boy walked into my house. That’s why I did what I needed to.”

That ache in Keira’s chest shifted, dropped like a stone into her stomach. “What are you talking about?” Her mother looked over her head, to the I.V., over at the monitor that timed Keira’s heartbeat and she knew, just by the way her mother avoided her glare, how she rubbed her fingers on the bedrail, that the woman had somehow set the entire mess in motion. “What did you do?”

Shoulders lowering, her mother still refused to look at Keira. “I heard you talking about North Rampart and I knew what he was doing.” A small glance at Keira’s face and then her mother’s voice rushed out, excuses, rationale that probably sounded sensible in her mind. “I knew it was something you didn’t need to be around so I left a message with Steven’s golf buddy Detective Wilson. He took care of everything else.”

Keira let her eyes dip closed, unable to look at the woman for another second. “You called the cops.”

“I was protecting you.”

Her mother’s protection had cost them all, Kona’s twin most of all. When she opened her eyes and spoke, Keira’s voice sounded flat, resigned. “You killed Luka.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to that boy.” The bedrail raddled against the mattress when her mother hit it. “Kona killed Luka the moment he decided to be a thug.”

“Get out.”

“I most certainly will not…”

“Get out of my room,” she told her, voice even, steady, brimming with a threat. Keira watched her fingers, the rough calluses on the tips from playing and she wished she had her Gibson. She needed the calm it brought her. Her mind was set and she promised herself she wouldn’t look at her mother again. The lies, the betrayal, the smothering dominance the woman had always settled over Keira felt too thick, too full. “Get out. Now.”

She didn’t rage at her mother liked she wanted. Keira didn’t even enjoy the way the woman’s chin wobbled or how she visibly released her calm. But Cora Michaels didn’t move, seemed incapable of doing anything more than stare at her daughter as though she was finally seeing her clearly for the first time. But it was a reaction that had come too late for Keira; an honest expression of respect she no longer needed.

Three slow pumps onto the call button and Keira’s nurse entered the room, that bright smile vanishing when she watched Keira and her mother staring back and forth. “I want her out,” she told the nurse. “I don’t want to see her anymore and I damn sure do not want an abortion.”

“She’s your mama…”

“I don’t care.” Again, she closed her eyes, moving her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the pound there. “I’m legally responsible for myself and I don’t want this woman or her husband anywhere near me.”

Two small steps and her mother reached for her. “Keira…”

“Get. Out.”

And for once, the woman listened. For once, she didn’t exhaust herself exerting her will over her daughter, and when she walked out of that hospital room, Keira felt the heavy weight of her mother’s presence leave with her. It moved from her shoulders, from her chest and finally Keira could breathe.

***

A yellow brick wall greeted Keira as she waited in the Orleans Parish Prison lobby. The clerk copying her driver’s license moved the card between her plump fingers as though she was looking for a flaw, some small indication that Keira’s I.D. was a fake.

She still felt sore, achy and the fresh bout of morning sickness that Leann was convinced was psychosomatic, had Keira feeling woozy and uncomfortable, like her skin had been pulled taut over her bones. Only three days out of the hospital, three days since she’d determined never to see her mother again, and Keira sat waiting for a suspicious jail clerk to tell her it was okay to walk through those heavy metal doors to speak with Kona. Keira didn’t know what she’d do or where she’d go the next day. She only knew she had to see Kona. She had to tell him about the hope growing inside her.

“Miss?” the clerk called and Keira jumped to her feet, pulling her I.D. and a Visitor’s badge under the glass in the metal dip of the desk. “Ten minutes until the end of the last visiting period. You’ll have a half hour with the inmate and then I need that badge back.”

She’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, scribbled her name on a faded form attached to a clip board. Keira glanced at that list, spotting a name that filled her with unease and the rumble in her stomach only got worse. “Lalei Alana.” Kona’s mother, and then, under that name, “Koa Hale,” his grandfather.

Keira closed her eyes, not eager to see either of them. It wasn’t fear of what they’d say to her that had her ready to bolt from the room, but the heavy weight of guilt she felt. Luka had gone with her to rescue Kona. He’d gone willingly, eagerly, but he’d gone because Keira had called him. He’d gone because, like Keira, he wanted to rescue Kona. That wasn’t an excuse. Luka had still ended up dead and Keira didn’t think Kona’s family would thank her for leading Luka to that death.

A screech from the large metal door that opened to the visitor’s area brought Keira’s attention away from the Admin desk and when she saw Professor Alana walking through it towards her, several thoughts came to her. The first was that the woman looked older. The death, the burden of burying your own child and the empty future of another seemed to wear on her; it was written in the unkempt wrinkles on her linen shirt and the loose fitting hang of her worn jeans. She had always walked with her chin uplifted, shoulders back and her stance elegant, but the woman who caught her eyes, who slammed the door shut behind her, slumped her shoulders, took sloppy steps toward Keira.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Professor Alana swatted at her eyes, brushing back the hair falling from her loose bun. Keira didn’t jerk away from her when she gripped her elbow, or when she pulled her toward the back of the lobby. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

She wouldn’t believe it. In all honesty, Keira didn’t care if Kona hated her right then. She knew telling him about the baby would change things. She knew him; she knew how he’d blame himself for Luka’s death. He needed a glimmer and Keira wanted to give him that. “I don’t care, Professor Alana.” She twisted out of the woman’s grip and stepped away from her. “I need to talk to him.”

The woman lifted her eyebrows, her gaze working over Keira’s face and then she sighed, sitting on the seat to her left before she opened the purse on her lap. “This is about that baby.” She kept her eyes downcast, her fingers rustling through her purse until she withdrew her checkbook. A swipe of her pen and the woman tore out a check, shoving it at Keira without a word.

Five hundred dollars. Alana thought her grandchild’s life was worth five hundred dollars. She spotted the Memo and Keira crumbled the check between her fingers.

“To fix Kona’s lapse in judgment?”

“What else would I call this?”

Keira’s heart would not soften, despite the bags under the professor’s eyes or the dark circles that told her sleep had not been easy for her. She understood the heartache, felt echoes of her own father’s death in the shadows beneath Professor Alana’s eyes, but she wouldn’t be written off. She would not let her mother or Kona’s decide the course of their lives. He had a right to know about their baby. Despite his possible anger at her, despite the gut-wrenching loss she knew he must be feeling, he still had to know that hope would come to them.

“I don’t want your money. Take this.” She waved the wrinkled check back at the professor, then slipped it in her back pocket when the woman only glared at her, top lip twitching.

Professor Alana grabbed Keira’s arms and shook her twice. “I will not let some stupid bitch ruin my son’s future. You say a word to him about that damn baby and I will destroy you, little girl. I promise you that.” Her fingernails bit into Keira’s skin and she tried to break away, to pull out of the woman’s touch. “You’ve already taken one son from me, you will not take Kona!”

“Kaikamahine, enough.” Koa came behind Professor Alana, pulled her away from Keira and as he held his daughter against his chest, patted her back, the old man’s kind eyes went glassy and soft. He gave Keira a weak smile, an expression Keira thought was forced, but sincere. “Kona’s waiting, little one, go see him. He needs to see a friendly face.”

Keira walked away from Kona’s family, from the small sobs working out of his mother’s chest and the gentle kindness softening his grandfather’s features. But she couldn’t help thinking, as she walked through that metal door that the guilt she felt would swallow her whole.

CHAPTER TWENTY

KONA

THREE A.M. that morning a wiry Dominican kid from the Seventh Ward decided Kona had a softer pillow than him. He knew the score. At age fifteen, he’d landed in juvie, after a couple of scrapes that had him at the wrong in of the NOPD’s knuckles. So when the kid jerked Kona’s pillow out from under him as he slept, Kona took it back. He took it back after he broke the kid’s nose and fractured his jawbone.

His lawyer mentioned “five years” in passing, like it was a small bit of time that Kona could handle without problem. Five years for standing there while Ricky killed two people. Five years, maybe more if he didn’t turn into a rat. They lawyer said the phrase like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the end of everything Kona had wanted for himself. Five years and his team would forget about him. Five years on the inside and his coaches would pretend they’d never heard his name. Five years would destroy him.

When the metal door opened, that awful creak whining in the large room as visitors waited their turn to see whatever brother, cousin, son or father they had to speak to through plate-glass, Kona held his breath. It wasn’t his mother coming back in to tell him what the lawyer heard about the deal the D.A. offered. It wasn’t his Kuku returning to make more half-hearted efforts at pulling a smile from Kona. It was her. Keira.

She stepped nervously into the room and Kona had fleeting thoughts that the introvert had returned. She held herself, arms circling her waist and her shoulders slumped as she peeked around the room.

Kona hadn’t seen that pretty flush on her skin in months, but it was there now, coloring her pale cheeks, warming her dull blue eyes. Keira looked thinner somehow, younger to him, but Kona thought that might have to do with spending the past week in a huge room full of convicts. It had aged him, those men and the preview of what his life would be like if he refused to cooperate with the D.A.

He watched Keira’s eyes moving to each cubicle, searching until she found him among the seated assholes slumping against the table, dirty telephone receivers to their ears talking to whatever friend or family that had been landed the task of visitation day. But unlike the old men and women, the rowdy, bored kids, Keira smiled, glowed with something Kona didn’t recognize.

He hated her for the way she looked. He hated her for the smile she gave him, the one he refused to return. He hated her for being there, reminding him of what he’d have to give up. And even though a small voice called to him, told him that Keira wasn’t to blame for the way Luka died, why Kona landed in the overfilled jail surrounded by stinky, bragging jackasses, the hurt was too great; the pain too sharp for Kona to listen.

Eyes on her, on those slow cautious steps Keira made toward him, Kona picked up the receiver, tried not to stare too long into her eyes, tried not to release the brewing anger that had kept him warm since he woke up in a hospital handcuffed to a bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he told her, mouth pulled down hard, eyes sharp and narrowed. Kona barely managed to keep the shake out of his voice, to keep the phone still between his tight fist.

“I needed to see you. To check up on you, baby.”

He closed his eyes, squeezed his lids tight. He wanted to erase the sight of her tears dotting her long eyelashes and the sweet, worried tone of her voice.

He breathed through his nose and that grip on the phone got tighter. “Me? I’m fine, Keira. I’m rooming with a hundred smelly assholes who all claim they were set up. I’m good. I got a place to sleep, even if I have to fight to keep it and I have to shit in front of a room full of perverts who wanna know how big my dick is. Oh, I’m good, Keira.”

Her fingers shook and she had to hold the phone with both hands to keep it still. “I know you’re angry. I know this hurts more than anything—”

“Hurt? No. I don’t hurt. I’ve moved past hurt. I’m full on to rage, Keira. Fucking fury.” Kona emphasized his point with a slam of his free hand onto the desk in front of him and found no great pleasure at how Keira jumped with the sound. Her tears only pissed him off, made that heavy burn of anger in his gut bubble. Again, Kona closed his eyes, not wanting to see the tears. They were pointless. They were weak and Kona was tired of being weak. He was ashamed of what Keira had turned him into; how she made him forget the promises he’d made to himself about women. Still, as he looked at her, a quick glance that did not soften his rage, he could not block out that her shoulders shook and the tears came back harder, louder. Kona rubbed his palm over his face, fingers pinching in his eyes. “I’m only talking to you because I want answers.”

He looked back at her, nostrils flaring when she rubbed her face on her sleeve. “Oh…okay.”

“How did you two know where I was?”

“Luka followed you.” A sniffle, another swipe of her coat on her wet face and Keira’s voice grew clearer. “A few months back. He said he followed you when you went out on runs for Ricky. When I told him you mentioned N. Rampart, he said he had a good idea where you were.”

Kona leaned back, hand on the back of his neck. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to call her all the stupid, insulting things in his head, the ones he’d silently whispered to her when he was supposed to be sleeping. It helped. It took away his grief. It made seeing her sting less. It made wanting her seem disgusting; a betrayal to his brother.

“Last question…”

“I have to tell you something.”

He watched her again, ignoring the smile she tried to force. How could she be happy? How could she think that their lives weren’t over? Luka was gone. His future was hopeless and this bitch smiles? What the hell does she have to be happy about?

Keira needed to understand how irrevocably they’d screwed up their lives. She needed to see that he had nothing to offer her; that he didn’t want her, not now, not ever again. If she’d just listened. If she’d just stayed back in Mandeville, Luka would have never…he would still be here.

“Unless you’re going to tell me my brother is alive, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But Kona…”

“No!” Another slam of his fist, this time on the glass and a guard closed in, his presence a small warning that Kona should get a handle on his temper. The desk under his elbow was Formica, an ugly harvest gold color that reminded him of bad seventies sitcoms. He leaned against it, taking cool breaths, trying to calm. “Why the fuck didn’t you stay, Keira? Why couldn’t you let me handle this shit on my own? Why didn’t you stay home?” He looked up at her pissed off when his eyes burned. “Why?”

“Kona, please…” Keira put her own hand against the glass, leaned on her arm and Kona had to shut his eyes again. He couldn’t stomach seeing her like this. He couldn’t stand the anger he felt, that deep, alien need to attack her. It felt abnormal, it felt like defeat. “I’m so sorry about Luka, but he told me…months back when I found out you were on that shit…” she sniffed again, her fingernails scratching against the glass. “He told me if I ever thought you were in trouble to call him. I…I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to protect you. I still want to protect you.”

She blamed Luka? His paranoid, anxious brother? Keira took her own guilt and shoved it at the feet of someone who couldn’t defend himself. Convenient, insulting and when Kona acted, moved to scream at her, the guard to his right leaned against the wall, his cocked eyebrow all the warning Kona needed. He pulled the phone in both hands, lowered his forehead against it as he let his breath come in quick, pull away the urgent desire to slam his fist against the brick wall behind him.

He cleared his throat, let one last deep inhalation move out of his lungs and Kona was able to meet Keira’s eyes again. “It’s done. There’s nothing left for you to protect me from, Keira, except yourself.”

The pale skin darkened and the lips Kona had grown so used to kissing, pulling comfort from, stopped shaking. Keira sat up, shoulders straight, attention unwavering as she watched him, analyzed ever twitch he tried to still on his face. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m done with this shit.” He waved his freehand between them. “I’m done being your little bitch. I’m done pretending that I feel something for you.”

I’m a fucking liar, he thought.

“What are talking about?”

“You’re a stupid bitch, you know that? You think I only wanted you? You think I was only seeing you? You actually believed that whole ‘I love you’ bullshit?”

Kona should have found some sick pleasure from the expression on Keira’s face. He should have laughed at her. He should have felt vindicated somehow that his words moved like poison over her features—fractured the impassive frown until fury made her mouth dip hard. But there wasn’t satisfaction in that look. If felt, instead, like a gut punch, one of his own design. But he had to try. He had to make her walk away before he forgot his anger, before her tears, the smile she’d tried mustering up for him, made him forgive what she’d cost him. If he didn’t have that rage, he’d be left unprotected.

“Kona, don’t do this. Please.”

“Don’t fucking beg, Keira. It makes you look common.”

She saw his lie. He could tell; it was in the slow way she closed her mouth, how her tears dried. How no more spilled down her face.

“Walk away, Keira. Walk away from me and don’t look back.” When she hesitated, kept staring at him as though she expected him to change his mind, like his heart wanted him to do, Kona hung up the phone, moved his chair back not wanting to hear any arguments. He barely offered her a glance and even that was dismissive; an afterthought she didn’t deserve. And it was that disregard, the way Kona acted as though she meant nothing, that had Keira reacting.

Then, his Wildcat broke, kicked her chair back and screamed, interrupting the conversations all around them. Keira swung back, beat the receiver against the holder over and over and over again until it was only shards of plastic hanging together by gauges of wire. Her rage shocked Kona, had him reaching forward, knocking against the plate glass to calm her. “Stop it! Are you crazy, Keira?”

“Oh I’m crazy you selfish asshole.” The guards had her, struggled with her before she had finished screaming, but Kona could not tear his gaze from her face; her rage was primal, had him fighting back that unnatural desire to hate her; had him desperate to touch her, to forgive her.

She struggled against a heavyset guard who held her against his large stomach until Keira settled, lifting her hands so that he would loosen his hold and still Kona watched her, mouth open, heart thundering. Her words were muffled behind the wall of plastic glass, but he knew her so well, caught every muted sound that left her mouth.

“I’m walking away and leaving you alone. I’m walking away because I have to save myself. But you fucking remember this: I will haunt you, Kona. When you think of me, see my face, hear my name, you’ll only remember that I loved you. You’ll remember that my love for you was never thin. You’ll remember this moment because it will be the biggest regret of your life.”

Keira jerked out of the guard’s hold and Kona watched her hair, those soft chestnut waves he loved to kiss, he loved twisting in his fingers when he took her. He would never touch them again. He would never touch Keira at all. He’d done this. Convinced himself that this was what he wanted. Leaving Keira was his sacrifice; the absolution he’d willingly paid for his twin’s death. He told himself that he hated her, that he’d never really loved her, but as the door closed behind her and Kona was ushered into the hallway, back down to his bunk, the swing of her hair, the rage and betrayal that bunched up her nose, her lips, would not leave his mind.

He would never see her again.

He would never touch her again.

The thought crippled Kona, made his stomach twist, made a sharp blister of desperation coil and pinch in his gut. He ran for the bathroom with a guard trailing behind him, yelling his name, telling him to stop and Kona did, finally. Right inside the bathroom. He fell to his knees, scared, angry, desperate and Kona threw up in the toilet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

KEIRA

ON FEBRUARY 26, 1970, General Motors introduced the second generation Camaro. It was what Kona called a “pony car” lower, meaner, wider than the first generation. “A man’s car,” he’d told Keira, “meaner than anything on four wheels.”

One of those Camaros caught Kona’s attention when he was fourteen. He’d spent two summers riding past it at the junk yard on Lafitte street, he’d told her, desperate to have it, to bring it back from the dead. And so, Kona had explained, he washed cars and mowed lawns and didn’t buy comics for six months straight, begged off trips to the river with his friends and treks after the ice cream truck when it moved slowly Uptown, calling hungry, bored kids, itching for their quarters. Kona, even at fourteen, had plans for his nickels and dimes and one late August evening, when he was sixteen, Kona walked up to the junk yard, smiling like a dog about to be thrown a steak and laid down $1500 for that rusted, ugly Camaro.

“Two years,” he’d told Keira one night when they sat parking in his baby just outside City Park. “I scrimped and saved and read and researched, bugged the shit out of every mechanic I met, asked how to use Bondo, how to ease out dents and get rid of rust, until I had her just the way I wanted.” He’d rubbed his hand along the dash of his baby, stroking her slower, petting her longer than he had Keira that night. “She’s the love of my life.”

Kona had been Keira’s.

She stood outside of the team house parking lot, ignoring the long looks she got, disregarding Nathan and Brian and the way they huddled on the front porch seeming to debate the wisdom of approaching her. One quick, hard glare and both boys hurried inside.

Good, she thought. Let them hide.

She wanted to be alone for this. It would be the last play she made. The last score to settle before she took Mark Burke’s three grand and left New Orleans behind.

He had come to her dorm, telling her the news of her accident, the baby, had traveled around the hospital quickly. Her silent, gentle savior, Mark had let Keira cry onto his chest. Had told her she would survive. Dried her face with his long, nimble fingers.

“You’re brave, Keira. You’re so damn strong. Don’t let this break you.”

She’d wanted to believe him. She’d wanted to be as sure about her future as Mark seemed to be about it.

Leann and Keira’s aunt had offered her a home. They were still family. They loved Keira and she knew she and her baby would be safe with them. They would be loved. But Keira couldn’t move around this city, couldn’t touch trees that she and Kona had leaned against, walk down sidewalks they’d jogged down hurrying to beat the rain, or to tear off each other’s clothes while they rushed into her dorm.

She couldn’t risk her mother’s intrusion on the life she wanted to give her baby.

Keira had to leave and so she kissed Leann goodbye without telling her what she planned. She let Mark hold her, console her for the loss that had broken her down completely. She let him insist that she take his money, that she form a Grand Plan that didn’t involve their parents and the world they wanted them to emulate.

And then, just a few blocks from the bus stop on the CPU campus, Keira had made one last goodbye.

Keira thought that Kona should see. He should know what she meant; how destroying something so perfect, so beautiful, was the greatest sin anyone could commit. After all, he had once done that to her.

His words were poison. His screams were a sharp point, piercing, tearing straight into what remained of her heart. This felt like a death. That great big solid thing in her heart had been shredded until only the fine wisps remained. It felt like she had been ripped apart, bits of her body and her spirit, torn to pieces and then quickly moved together again, but wrong, not as they had been, not as they should be.

Her reflection in the driver’s side window of the black Camaro looked odd, unfamiliar, and Keira moved her head, inclined to see her face clearer against the yellow street light blinking in and out above her. She looked at her lips, the curve of her neck, felt the cold, untouched plane of her chest and realized, with a shudder, that was where Kona’s mouth would always belong. That was where he would never be again.

And then, just then, the elusive hook came to her. She wanted to smile, to let the bunch of worry tightening her shoulders free. It was a song she’d been writing for months. It was what she’d toyed with anytime Kona made her angry; anytime she felt the bite of his accusations, his anger. Staring at herself in the reflection of his car, the words trickled into her mind, swam around like a wave. She had it all. Kona had given her a child. He had given her enough heartache that her song came to her.

HOW DARE you

Trample with your words

Tatter who I am

Poison with your lips

Give it gram by gram.

HOW DARE you

Steal what’s left of me

The parts already thin

Toxic to my heart

Broken through my skin

PRETTY WORDS HIDE the truth

Fracture all my hope

Poison in every sound, lies in what you spoke

How dare you?

SHE WATCHED herself as though she drifted above, as though that was not her threading her keys between her fingers. That was not a calm, rational or even moderately sane Keira kneeling down next to Kona’s beloved Camaro.

She didn’t care that the letters were too big, white scratches against that midnight black paint. She didn’t care that she was destroying something precious, something that mattered because Kona had too. He had crushed her heart under his heel and this act, this callous, juvenile act, would be a companion to her curse. He wouldn’t soon forget her words just as he wouldn’t be able to quickly be rid of the large letters marring his car.

Keira dug in deep, funneling her despair, the crushing bend of her heart into every line she made and when she was done, she didn’t look back. Just picked up her bag and stuffed her keys in her pocket and left her mark on Kona’s heart, on the pristine effort he’d made to make that car beautiful.

The bus station was five blocks away and despite the slow drizzle overhead, Keira set out on foot, leaving behind everything she knew, the one person she loved with the angry letters; the solitary reminder of how much he’d hurt her.

THIN LOVE scratched into that black paint and “never again” whispered to her shattered heart.

PART II

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

KONA

April, 2013

Nearly Sixteen Years Later

THE MARKET HADN’T CHANGED in the eight years that Kona had been away from the city. There were still the bunched assortment of vendors; smiling salespeople pawning their beads, their silver jewelry and food. It was cleaner now, somehow bursting with more exuberance than had been the vibe in the Market before Katrina hit. But since that time, the city, the people, the entire attitude of New Orleanian pride had heightened and everything was shiny in its own way; smiles, stores, enthusiasm. Kona really loved this new New Orleans.

Despite the few glances of recognition he drew, Kona felt good with his mother on his arm, taking in the bustle of activity around them; her with a wide-brimmed hat covered her small face, and Kona smiled with the memory of his childhood here, the times he and Luka would run away from their mother to see if they could lift a loaf of French bread or a square of fudge from a distracted vendor. Kona shook his head, let a cool breath expand his lungs. That was the second time his brother’s memory had come back to haunt him. It was the city, the stinging recollection of the life he once knew that ushers in his twin’s ghost.

The air was cool with the sweet snap of heat just on the edges of the breeze and the humidity and moisture Kona had missed living up north. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed home; the bipolar weather, the rich, decadent scents that hang on the breeze and the easy laughter of the folks around them all make him feel like returning to the place where it all began is the right decision. California had been great. Colorado had been freezing, but New Orleans wrapped him up in its heavy arms and reminded him that he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.

“Oh look, Keiki kane, they’ve got the hydrangeas in.” He meant to follow his mother, make good on those promises of buying her whatever she wanted, but more attention came his way and two boys stopped him, thrusting a chewed up pencil and slip of bare paper into his hands and his mother nodded, walked ahead to pick out a bundle of flowers.

“What’s your name, buddy?” Kona asked the smallest boy, smiling at the missing teeth on the top row of his mouth and the snotty nose that needed a wipe.

“Matty,” the boy said, running his sleeve across his face.

“You like football, Matty?”

“I like you, Mr. Hale. Is it true you’re gonna play for us? You coming back home?”

He paused while several women drifted nearer, held an arm over Matty’s shoulder while phones and cameras snapped pictures, then he returned the gnarled pencil and paper back to the boy. “You never know, man. I just might.”

Kona signed several more autographs and moved away from the crowd, tossing a wave to Matty and his friend and he smiled at the widening of the crowd, at the occasional nods he got here and there.

Ten tables ahead, Kona’s mother is speaking animatedly to a vendor, likely haggling over price and Kona rolled his eyes, wandered toward a kiosk of Mardi Gras masks, thinking idly that his manager’s twelve year-old would like one, when a glimpse back at his mother caught the sight of long hair waving down the slender back of a woman just in front of him.

She was petite with a tiny waist and luscious, wide hips that had Kona biting his bottom lip. Simone, his girlfriend of two years, left him, moved back to California the month before and Kona had been busy with the options his managers keep feeding his way. He hadn’t had time to put much effort in dates or women. But the woman not fifty feet from him reminded Kona just how long that month had been.

There was something there; something in the way the woman shook her head, the way she moved her hands when she speaks to her friend standing at her side, that reminded Kona of the past; of the things he left behind all those years ago. He didn’t know why those gestures, that silhouette gave him pause or what about the woman had his hands shaking, but he stepped closer, needing a clearer look, needing to answer the question he hadn’t asked himself. Her profile was strong, it always had been and when she turned, looked over her shoulder, Kona stopped wondering, stopped guessing about things that were familiar and forgot how to breathe.

It had to be the light in the Market. The low yellow bulbs above him, the graying skies or his wild imagination. That couldn’t be Keira. He had just read about her mother’s death which sent him straight back to memory lane, recollecting each moment of their past and holding those minutes close to his chest.

Something caught her notice, had her smiling broadly, that had her moving her chin as she waited for a greeting and Kona hung back, stepped behind the kiosk and watched Keira and Leann laughing at whoever approached.

It was her. She was just feet from him after nearly two decades. Instinctively, he touched his chest, just over his heart. It’s where his tattoo was…the one he got for her. They’d been inked together and even though they’d left things badly and years and distance had separated them, he’d never been able to remove the tattoo. She’d always been his beloved.

Sixteen years later and she looked the same. She was still elegant, radiant; her legs strong, toned, her waist has expanded but Kona was certain he could fit his fingers around it easily. God, she was still so beautiful; large, blue doe eyes, smooth, lineless skin. Time had taken away the soft curves from her hips, the slight bulges that seemed delicious to him as a twenty-year-old were enhanced, heighten with her growth.

All those years searching. All the time and effort wasted on tracking her down and she stood feet from him; a ghost coming back to capture his clear thought.

He’d looked for her. A year after he returned to CPU when his anger had vanished; when his grief stung him less, but no one would tell him where Keira had gone. Leann wouldn’t even look at him then; her mother had slammed the door in his face and after a while, Kona reminded himself that he had done that damage to himself. After a while, he stopped searching every crowd, stopped hoping fate would have them meeting again.

But he’d heard the rumors. He’d hired professionals. She left the city after his arrest, had settled in Nashville, worked two jobs until she caught a break. She’d made it without him. She wrote songs that were full of angst and fire, a few that cut a little too close to home for him, but he was proud of his Wildcat, happy that she’d followed her dreams. He could have called. He could have approached, but, Kona was a coward where Keira was concerned and the words, he knows, would never come. He just didn’t know what to say to her.

Seeing her now, knowing that she is there, feet from him, had that tremble in Kona’s hand worsening and he instantly wanted to touch her. He wanted to taste her again. He managed a step, but just one before she seemed to sense him, to feel the crackle of energy, of eager sensation that they’d always shared. She had to know he was close, that he was drawing her in. How could he not? She’d been his first love. Sometimes he thinks, his only real love.

The smile on her face dimmed somewhat as her gaze moved all around the Market, to Kona’s left, above his head until finally their eyes met. For a moment, time held captive by the tug of her stare, by the primal desire he felt to move toward her, to touch her, just to see if she moved the same; if she made the same noises when he ran his hands down her body.

In the noise of the Market and the stricken heat that flowed between them, he touched on those fresh memories, the ones he’d pulled from his mind just that morning and instantly it came back; how beautiful she was when she sang; the low, soft rasp of her voice when she was sleepy; the arcs and dips of her back, her hips when they moved together.

God. He still wanted her. Had he ever stopped?

Her expression was open; shocked, and he wondered if she had the same quick flash of recollection, if all that they had been came back to her as it is to him in the gravid moment that they stared at each other.

He offered her a smile hoping that by now she had forgiven him. It had been a long, long time, but Keira had a temper, always held a grudge. He hoped she had stopped hating him.

Tentatively, her shocked expression changed and a small shake moved her mouth. He thought it would be a smile, something sentimental, something he could commit to memory in case they never saw each other after that moment. But then, her gaze flew to the left, to a kid jogging toward her and then her almost smile turned quickly to horror.

“Mom!” Kona heard the kid call and he felt an instant wave of disappointment settle in his chest. She’s married? Had she completely forgotten him and made a life with someone else? His eyes followed the kid; a boy around sixteen. He towered over her and Keira had to stretch her neck to meet his eyes. Back to Kona, the boy spoke to Keira, moved his hands, but she did not seem to hear him. Keira’s gaze has already returned to Kona and the look of fear darkened the slight shadows under her eyes.

They were joined by another boy, this one younger than Keira’s boy, with Leann’s strong nose and arched cheekbones. The kids spoke to Leann, asked Keira a question, but her answer is brief, hurried as her gaze stuck to Kona’s and that worried, anxious look on her face exaggerated.

Kona wondered what had Keira nervous; what about seeing him had her nodding her boy away, had her distracted when he kissed her forehead and turned from her. And then, Kona saw it. Saw him. The cleft in his chin, the small, faint freckles on his cheeks, the same shape and color as Kona’s; the wide shoulders, the sloped nose. This boy could have been Kona at sixteen. And when the realization hit Kona, when his gaze followed the boy as he sauntered off with the same, distinct gait Kona had never managed to get rid of, his knees buckled and the quick burn of sick and bile clotted the back of his throat.

The boy was his. Keira’s son. His son. He knew it without catching more than a glance at him. It was Kona’s dark, hooded eyes he saw in the boy; younger, brighter. It was Kona’s skin, just a shade lighter than his own dark complexion; it was his frame, wide and looming.

That was his son.

He had a child. He’s had a child for sixteen years and she never told him.

That nauseous wave quivered around his gut, but Kona holds it off, watched the boy disappear into the Market crowd, gaze transfixed by the similarities, how familiar this strange boy was.

Finally, he turned, seeking her out and despite his shock, the unbelievable realization that had him questioning what to think, to say, to feel, he was unsurprised to find Keira standing just in front of him.

How could she not tell him? All this time and she never told him.

“Kona…” she said, a quick, forced smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as though she hadn’t completely betrayed him.

***

Keira

HE WAS SCARED. Keira saw it in the way his gaze moved around; that frightened, fearful desperation she’d seen in the mirror for years. Kona did not know what he should feel and that heavy weight of shame, of guilt doubled in size and set right on Keira’s chest.

She thought of reaching for him, a small touch that would calm him, but then Kona took to raking his fingers over his face and Keira knew hers was the last touch he needed. Finally, he blinked, head shaking, eyelids narrowing. “You did this. You…I can’t believe you did this to me.”

Keira didn’t like how loud he spoke those words. There were too many people in the Market. Too many eyes that recognized his face. Too many people that could glance between him and her son and make an automatic connection.

Ransom knew nothing about his father. For years she’d fielded questions, put him off with vague responses about his father’s identity. He was a bright kid, of course he was, but as he grew older, the questions stopped. He didn’t want to search because, she liked to think, he’d realized the topic wasn’t one that made her comfortable. She’d kept her boy safe. She kept him guarded from his father’s tyrannical mother. She kept him in a bubble that threatened to burst right there in the Market.

Kona drew nearer and his voice didn’t lower. Keira took a breath and a step, entered his personal space. It was something she could never avoid doing when they were younger. He pulled her in. He always pulled her in and sixteen years later, he was doing it again.

“Please,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. She watched the quick movement of his chest, the quiver of his collar as his breathing accelerated. “Please, Kona. Not here. Not now.” She said the last word and forced her gaze up, caught the deep anger between his black irises.

She watched him guarded, tried to measure if it would return; that twisted, deadly connection they had. It was a virus, a plague on sense. He wasn’t only capable of pulling her to him, drawing him into his space like a magnet. Them, together, had been a very bad thing. It always had been. The it of them was electric; it had transformed her once. It had freed her, made her forget, for a moment, who she wanted to be. It made her forget sense and reason and logical behavior. That it of them was like a fuse flirting near a lit match; inches away from igniting fully.

His eyelids became so narrow that she could barely manage to see the whites of his eyes and she knew the it was teetering between them; a familiar, dormant danger that she had no intention of recharging.

“Please,” she said again, hoping that her voice was soft. Hoping that he could hear the desperation in her tone, that worried need for reason in this situation. It…Them…could not be contained once rekindled and she would not let things happen there. Not when her son lingered feet away. Not when every eye in the Market watched them.

Finally, Kona’s features relaxed and she saw the tight set of his shoulders lessen. But when he speaks, his anger is a full bodied well of near rage. “Fine,” he said, nodding once, as though his mind was sorting through the information, the realizations and tried to calmly organize them into logic and sense. Again his head moved and his hackles went up—arms crossing so tightly that the thick veins in his biceps bulge against his tan skin.

When he pulled out his wallet to retrieve a card, Keira stepped back, unable to make her gaze continue to meet his.

“My cell is on this.” He extended his hand and the card trembled between his fingers. His anger she understood. Him being calm, being rational, was something she’d never seen from him. “I expect a call this afternoon.” She would have never expected him nervous.

“Okay,” Keira said, reaching for his offered business card. When their fingers brushed and she felt the smooth zip of electricity that had first pulled them together all those years ago, her gaze moved on its own, straight into his. She knew he felt it too. That, at least, had not been buried with time. The attraction, the chemistry that she once excused away as first love. “I…I—“ she couldn’t find words sensible enough, worthy enough of this situation. How do you excuse away something like this? What reason was rational enough for keeping someone’s child from them? Nothing she said would erase the scowl from his face, would make their bodies relax.

Kona attempted a step away from her, a shuffle of his feet that he didn’t quite manage before he turned around, before he was inches from her face. “Of everyone…everyone, I never thought you could be this cruel.”

“It’s complicated, Kona.”

“It’s cruel. Complicated or not, Keira, it’s fucking cruel.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KONA

HIS HOME FELT TOO intimate for this. He didn’t want Keira there and Kona would not meet her at his mother’s home. Those two women had always hated each other. It would be a weird, awkward meeting and he didn’t need his mother interfering. She’s was good at that, always has been. If Keira the woman was anything like the girl Kona once loved, then there would be words, anger, shouts and Kona didn’t want his mother in the middle of it.

When Keira called a few hours before, he could hear the worry, the fear in her voice. She should be worried. She should be nervous. Keira had hurt him worse than anything he’d ever done to her.

He wasn’t sure them meeting in a hotel room was exactly smart, but he knew his anger had quieted the earlier feelings of desire he felt the moment he saw her. One call and his credit card number had emptied the floor. They would have this conversation in the quiet and empty space of a hotel room. He didn’t think about the bedroom behind him. He wouldn’t need to. It would take everything in him to stop screaming.

He had a son; a nearly grown son. He shook his head again trying to recall the boy’s face. He’d known him instantly, felt drawn to him just as he had been to his mother all those years ago when she’d put on a front and threatened him not to slack on their joint project. Same as with Keira, something called him, shouted in his subconscious that the boy was his. He didn’t need a test to tell him the truth.

Kona walked to the bar, used his fingers to fist out a few cubes of ice and filled his glass with Scotch. The liquor burned his throat and he craved the sensation. He hoped it will quell his anger. He hoped it would stop his hands from shaking. They’d not stopped since that morning when he watched Keira walk away with Leann yammering in her ear.

He hadn’t told anyone what he’d discovered. He didn’t know how he could. Another swig from his glass and Kona sat in the plush hotel recliner, thumb and index finger on his temples as he tried to rub away the tension there. He thought of the life the boy had endured. Kona had missed everything, absolutely everything. His birth, first steps, first words; how could Keira do this to him? That’s all he wanted to know. Not where she’d been or how, as a kid herself, she’d managed to raise their son on her own. There were a million questions running through his head; a million more worries.

He didn’t care about the crowd watching them this morning. He didn’t care about the gossip or the attention or what the existence of this boy would mean for his career. He only cared that she had kept him away, ignorant that he’d created something he’d longed for. He wanted children, a wife, something that anchored him; something that tethered him to a home, to comfort, to love.

He’d tried. With Simone…with Caroline Williams when he was fresh out of college, but they’d always complained Kona wasn’t giving them everything. They wanted more from him. They wanted real and he’d always seemed unable to give them that. Every face he touched, wasn’t soft enough, didn’t affect him. Every mouth he kissed, he found flaw in. Every woman that promised him tomorrow, he did not feel that same raw connection that he had as a college sophomore with the hot-tempered, blue-eyed girl. The mother of his child.

He felt sick again, dizzy with rage. But Kona knew he could not stay angry. He knew that he would have to tamp down this shock, this anger if he wanted answers.

Kona downed what’s left of the Scotch and set the glass on the table in front of him, leaving a wet circle on the wood. He tried not to think about the expression on Keira’s face when she saw him watching their son. It was part shock, part fear, and he knew, because he had memorized her every expression, all those obvious tweaks and quivers that laid her emotions on her face, that she was sorry.

Good, he thought. Feeling like shit is the least she could do.

Two sharp knocks on the door and Kona’s gaze snapped to it. He waited, it would be good for her to wait, let her stew in her guilt. His steps were slow, calm and Kona pulled his anger down, tried to breathe through his nose as he hovered his hand over the doorknob. “Shit,” he said when his fingers kept trembling and Kona squeezed a fist tight so his knuckles grew white. He tried like hell not to get excited that Keira is on the other side of that door.

Three fast inhalations to get his heart back to a normal pace, then Keira was standing before him and the door shook under Kona’s grip. This would be easier if she looked like shit, if the years had not been kind to her. If she’d let herself go, gotten sloppy, uncaring about her health. But none of those things happened. She was still flawless to him; skin pale, eyes wide and Kona couldn’t help himself. His gaze moved on its own, over her face, down to the firm swell of her breasts held together between the straps of a modest flowered sundress. His gaze dipped lower and Kona blinked at those strong legs, the muscular calves, even to the painted pink polish on her toenails. He stepped back, waved her in and tried not to watch the sway of her hips or the mesmerizing curve of her ass.

Keira was the girl he pushed away all those years ago, the one he tried to convince himself he hated. She was the same girl, aged—time and struggle maturing her with sensuality, confidence. Breaking through all that devastation and anger is the minute desire to pull her against him and slam his mouth over hers, but it is faint and is completely eradicated by the memory of the boy who could be his clone running through the Market.

Kona didn’t speak to her when she offers him a smile. He didn’t return the smile either. He just stepped back, walked her to the sofa in the sitting room.

If the years have taught him anything, it was patience and control. You can’t be a hot head and expect to play with penalties and fines racking up. The NFL forced Kona to mature, to level his anger into calculated reasoning. And it was that reasoning that Kona drew on now as he sat opposite Keira in the recliner. He was relaxed, calm, his elbow on the armrest and his fingers covering the hard frown on his face. He didn’t move them when he spoke, was content to keep his demeanor mildly cold.

“You want a drink?” That hard gaze he’d perfected over the years glared right at her and he felt slighted that she wouldn’t look directly at him. “There’s Scotch, I think beer in the fridge.”

“No. I’m good.” Her voice was soft, polite and her posture was ramrod straight as she fidgeted with the straps of her purse.

Good. Be nervous, he thought.

But he couldn’t take the tension, the awkward way that she examined the room, her fingernails, the view from the balcony behind him. He needed a distraction, something to keep him level and calm and Kona didn’t bother to look at her when he walked to the bar to his left and quickly made himself another drink.

“Got a lot of questions,” he finally said, staring at the picture above the bar—Jackson’s statue in the Quarter at night, the old war hero’s head silhouetted against a bright moon. Another sip, deeper than the last and Kona turned, leaned against the bar and crossed his feet, swirling the ice in his glass as he watched Keira. Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze ran up his legs, over his hips and came to rest on his hands. Still, she wouldn’t look at him directly.

“I’m sure you do,” she said, leaning back against the sofa. She rested her temple against her fist and looked down as though she was bored, as though she was ready to take whatever punishment he had for her.

Kona forgot his drink, left it behind him on the bar and didn’t care that her back stiffened when he sat next to her. “What’s his name?”

She seemed surprised about his first question and he guessed that it was odd, that it came before “how could you?” and “why?” but it seemed best to start out small.

“Ransom. He’ll be sixteen next month and he—”

With Kona’s uplifted hand, Keira went quiet. “You wanna say that again?”

For the first time Keira gave him an effortless smile, as though his surprise at hearing her son’s name was expected, something she’d heard more than once. “Luka Ransom Riley.”

Kona threaded his fingers together, an effort to stop himself from touching her. There were emotions that overwhelmed him; thoughts and questions that ran through his mind like a wave; confusion, gratitude, disappointment. “You named him for…” he couldn’t finish the thought. He wouldn’t. His twin, that loss, it was something Kona tried never to think about. He refused to acknowledge what his brother’s death had done to him; what it continued to do to him.

“Luka was a good man, Kona, and his death was senseless.” Keira turned, moved her arm along the back of the sofa, her hair brushed back, sending the sweet scent of jasmine straight into Kona’s nose. “I couldn’t give Ransom your name so I did the next best thing.” Keira looked to her left, to the chandelier above the dining table, but Kona doubted her thoughts were on the ornate fixture. “He was the price I paid for walking away from my life here. He was the ransom for everything I could have had.” When Keira looked back at him, that small quirk on her mouth was faint, barely there. “It was a price I’d pay a hundred times over, Kona.” He held that stare and tried not to let his mind wander to the gray flecks in her eyes or the determined set of her fine chin. And then, when Kona remained silent, when his gaze lingerd, Keira turned away, broke the small spell that caught between them in those quick seconds. “He’s an A student, spends most of his summers building houses with Habitat.” She scooted up, mimicked him by resting her elbows on her knees. “He’s…he’s just really a great kid, and he doesn’t know you’re his father.”

Kona watched her, saw the worry, the fear again and some small measure of his anger left him.

“What have you told him about his father?”

“Not much.” Kona hated that she sat back. He hated that she’d retreated away from him; in the next moment, he cursed himself for caring that she was. Keira’s shoulders relaxed, but she fiddled with the seam on the back of the sofa, running her fingernail along the brown suede. “He knows I was young. He knows I quit college when I got pregnant with him. He knows you are a Hawaiian, that you’re a damn giant, but I was never comfortable talking about the past.” She looked away from him and Kona wished he knew why. He wished those cluster of thoughts he could see working in her eyes would surface. “Not any of it, and he hasn’t pushed much. He’s never asked for your name.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

Keira always ran. It was her thing. When she was angry, when she was frustrated, she closed off from him, from everyone. She was doing the same thing now, clearly uncomfortable with his questions, maybe with him moving closer toward her. “It’s complicated.”

He’d let her breathe, give her some space, but Kona was determined not to relent. He wanted answers and even if he had to run after her if she decided to take off, again, he’d have his damn questions answered. He pushed back, near the other side of the sofa and moved his elbow against the pillows, his fingers almost touching her shoulder.

“Then uncomplicate it for me. I think I have a right to know why you never told me I had a son.”

“I tried to, Kona. That day? At the jail?” She moved off from the sofa, paced next to the coffee table and Kona watched her, gaze hard, eyes shifting back and forth catching every step she made. Finally, Keira curled her arms around her middle and when she workd up enough nerve to stare at him, Kona was leveled by the hard glare narrowing her eyes. “You told me unless I could bring Luka back, you didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. You pushed me away, you remember that? You told me you didn’t want me, that you never loved me.”

He remembered. Kona had spent years recalling her expression, the rage in her fists, in her screaming voice when she destroyed the parish’s telephone. He remembered her struggling against the guards. He remembered her curse. But he knew this woman. Or, at least, he knew the girl she’d been. She was deflecting, trying to hold back whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him. “That was you and me. That had nothing to do with the kid.”

“His name is Ransom.”

Keira’s shout had Kona’s eyebrow arching up, had him standing in front of her, looking down with a poker stare he’d perfected years ago during contract negotiations. He wouldn’t yield. “Stop procrastinating. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” When Keira hesitated, rubbed the back of her neck and Kona saw the small beads of moisture on her upper lip, he grew worried, curious about where her fear came from. “What is it?”

She waved her hands toward him as though she’d decided to give up. “I was asked not to tell you about the baby.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think?”

Keira didn’t have to elaborate. That scowl on her face told him everything he needed to know. Kona closed his eyes, silently cursing his mother and all the damn interfering she’d always sworn was for his benefit. “What did she say?” he asked Keira, expecting more anger, not expecting the laugh that worked out of her mouth.

“I recall her telling me I wasn’t worthy of you; that I would ruin your future. That I…I’d already taken one son from her and she wouldn’t let me take you too.” Keira turned away from him, walked to the large window overlooking the city. She still kept her arms wrapped around herself and her shoulders were set again hard, severe.

“She wanted me to get rid of him.” Kona’s stomach dropped and he dipped his head, thought of fixing another drink, but was held motionless by Keira’s voice; those revelations he professed he wanted were like slaps against his face. “She wasn’t the only one that gave me that advice and maybe I would have. I was scared and after I left you that day at the jail, I realized I was very alone.”

He came next to her, leaned against the window and watched her profile, spotted how her eyes reflected the city lights outside.

“That was my mother’s plan for me too, but she and I had a fight.” Keira squeezed her eyes shut as though she was trying to erase whatever memory ran through her mind. “She’s the one who called the cops. She overheard us in my room and she made the call.” Keira glanced at Kona and he saw her guilt, the heavy weight of what she’s felt for decades. Just then, he wanted to reach out to her, he wanted to tell her that none of this was her fault even though he wasn’t sure he believed that. Instead, he folded his arms, pulled that wrinkle of concern from his eyebrows and watched Keira’s face as she again faces the window.

“Even after I kicked her out of my room, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what I’d do. I thought maybe telling you about the baby would help you heal. I was so naive. But then the doctor comes in, lets me hear the faint, barely moving heartbeat and I knew, I just knew, there was no way I could destroy that life.” Keira lowered her forehead, rested it against the glass and when she spoke again, her voice was lowered as though forcing the words out was like extracting a tooth without anesthesia. “I’d made it with you. You were everything to me then and we’d made this perfect little soul together. There was no way I was getting rid of it.”

Kona was surprised to see her tears; they were brief and she didn’t let them linger on her face, but he saw that the memories consumed her, that for her they were still real. “So I went to see you at the jail. I was going to tell you. I thought you’d get past…everything. I thought we could start over.” She looked at Kona, gave him a small frown. “You were so angry. You hated me. You blamed me for Luka. I understood that. And then you break up with me, tell me you don’t want me anymore and I knew. Right then and there—after the argument with my mother, after your mother telling me I’d never be good enough for you, that I’d ruin you—I knew the only thing I had left in the world was our baby. So I left.”

“You carved up my Camaro.” It was pointless, stupid to even mention, but Kona too had gone back to the past. Keira’s words filled in what he didn’t know, the moments after he made her leave. “You went to Nashville?” She nodded and Kona could only watch the dip of her chin and the straight line of her mouth. “But your car was totaled and you walked away from your family…how did you…”

“Mark Burke.”

She said the name with a smile, with a fondness that Kona didn’t like. The jealousy was irrational and he tried not to let it consume him. Keira wasn’t his. She hadn’t been his for a long time, but part of him hated that Burke was the one she’d turned to. He couldn’t push down that instant whip of anger deep enough and he knew his frown gave away what he felt. Keira’s gaze followed him as he moved back toward the bar.

“Burke?” he finally said, trying to keep his voice even.

“He gave me three grand, put me on a bus.”

Kona worked his jaw, unreasonably annoyed, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. “Burke did that for you? What did you have to do in return?”

She didn’t expect an insult. That much he could tell and as soon as it leaves his mouth, Kona regretted it.

Keira lifted her chin, stepped in front of him, came too close. “Fuck you, Kona, it wasn’t like that. I had nothing. I had absolutely nothing. I certainly didn’t have you. Don’t you dare judge me, especially when you don’t know shit about what I was going through and you damn sure don’t know why Mark did anything for me.”

He should have apologized. He knew that. Kona felt the weight of emotions he thought he’d buried a long time ago, but Keira being there, right in front of him, her laying out the truth he didn’t believe he was ready for, had him consumed with anger. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He wasn’t the boy Keira knew. So why did being around her for less than a half hour have Kona reverting to the hot headed asshole he used to be?

Still, they had a son. Kona may have not been there for either of them, but that didn’t mean he’d continue to play absentee father. He had to know that the boy was protected. “So Burke helped you. He’s in your life? He’s in my son’s life?”

“Yes. He has been for years. He’s a good man.” Kona nodded, stepped away from Keira and walked back to the window to lean against it, hands on the glass. He could feel her stare, heard the soft steps she made as she moved beside him, as she rested her back on the window. “So is his boyfriend, Kona.”

Kona’s neck popped when he whipped his head toward Keira. “What?”

“Mark is gay,” she said, a smile quirking on her lips. “He came out to me before you and I ever broke up.” Kona let his shoulders fall with a relief he had no right feeling. Keira had hurt him, she’d kept his son from him, but he was beginning to understand why. He was beginning to remember things the way they’d happened and not how he’d organized them in his memory. Keira’s half smile fell and she looked down at her hands, a distraction for what, he didn’t know. “Mark didn’t want me to have to live under my mother’s thumb. He didn’t want me having to pretend like he was. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and he loves Ransom.”

Kona joined Keira against the window, hands rubbing down his face as he processed everything she’s told him. His mother, the lies, Mark freakin' Burke and finding out he had a son—it was information overload and Kona looked down at Keira, watched the way she rubbed her neck, how she leaned her head against the glass, taking it all in. Could he forgive her? Had she forgiven him? Kona wasn’t sure what came next.

“Why not later? Why haven’t you told me since then?”

“And have everyone thinking I was a gold digging groupie? Please, Kona, give me some credit.”

Just as quickly as his anger faded, it came back, flashing into his head as he glared at Keira. “So, you’re saying your pride kept my son from me?”

“No. Of course not.” Even Keira’s sigh had Kona angry. Why the hell was she frustrated? Why was she the one that couldn’t keep her hands still, let her patience slip? “I’m saying that I worked really hard for a really long time to build a reputation, to build a name for myself so that I could feed and clothe my son. You don’t have any idea how hard it is for a woman in the music industry. You have no clue how many hands I’ve had to slap off my ass or how many redneck singers and producers that offered me a shot if I’d sleep with them when I was trying to get my songs recorded.”

Keira walked around the room, head shaking as though the memory of those years played back again, exhausting her. “I had to take care of my son and I had to make sure I was careful not to take any easy ways out. In my business when you’re starting out only your talent and reputation is what separates the real artists from the posers. I wasn’t about to have anyone finding out my son’s father was the new rich darling of the NFL.

“Besides, the last time I saw you, you blamed me for Luka’s death.” She paused and Kona could see her temper surfacing. It was familiar and he couldn’t look at her, not without seeing her in that jail, raging at him. He closed his eyes to block out the memory and heard Keira coming closer. “You hated me, Kona. I didn’t want my son to see that anger. He is all I have. Aside from Leann, Ransom is my only blood. You had your mother, your kuku and I didn’t think any of you would thank me for reminding you of what you’d lost, for landing on your doorstep with a baby you’d fathered with a woman you hated. Raising him was hard. I worked in a diner for years, waiting tables, cleaning my boss’s home and she helped as much as she could. Bobby became family, but she was almost as broke as I was. It was desperate sometimes, but it was something I did. I wasn’t about to throw all of that away by being called a gold digger or some slut that was coming out of the woodwork just as your star was rising. “

In his mind, it made sense. Her reasons, her desperation to prove herself. She’d been alone as Kona worked his way into success. He knew that. His brain told him that it made perfect sense. But his heart was another matter; years, so many years she’d kept this to herself. She’d kept his child from him. She refused to let him protect either of them and his heart overrules his mind. “You’re a selfish bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are.” His voice rose, echoed around the room as Kona made for the bar, needing something to do with his hands. “You’re a selfish bitch.” He slammed back a drink and poured another before Keira stood behind him.

“Well, that’s helpful. Still up to old habits?”

Kona looked at the glass in his hand, then back at Keira’s bunched up features and that critical scowl on her face. “You know, what? Fuck you. You don’t get to come in here and start judging me like I’m still a stupid twenty-year-old. A couple of drinks because I’m pissed off doesn’t make me a drunk and I didn’t get where I am by juicing if that’s what you’re thinking. Six months in jail, Keira. Six months of me dodging Ricky’s boys when I testified against him. Six months and I crawled back to CPU, begged the coach to give me another shot. I worked my ass off. So, yeah, fuck you if you think you of all people can start judging me. I’m not the one who has lied to you for sixteen years. I’m not the one who was too damn proud to tell me I had a fucking child!” Keira barely blinked when Kona threw the glass against the wall, scattering chunks of ice and glass over the carpet.

She watched the darkened spot on the gray walls, but didn’t get upset, didn’t do more than slip her gaze to Kona. “I was protecting him.”

“You were protecting yourself. You were doing what you always did…you were trying to prove that you didn’t need anyone. So yeah, selfish bitch.”

Keira’s expression darkened and when she took a step, her bright eyes flashing, Kona thought he saw a hint of the old Keira surface. He thought she might want to hit him, he almost expected it. But Kona wasn’t the same. He wouldn’t let her touch him like that again. Instead of a violent reaction, Keira turned away from him, with her shoulders straight and Kona didn’t miss the cool way she breathed in and out or how she closed her eyes.

Finally, when her expression softened, Keira sat back on the sofa, nodded at the empty space to her left until Kona sat next to her. “Maybe I was selfish and I’m sorry. I really am. But I was scared and young and determined not to fail.”

Kona understood that, recognized the memory of his years struggling to prove himself; taking what every cocky offensive lineman gave him. He’d been determined too and it had made him stronger. It made him successful. He couldn’t blame Keira for doing the same.

He didn’t speak, needed a moment to remember himself, to remember all the lessons his struggles taught him. A quick shake pulled at his mouth as he realized he hadn’t been this angry, let his temper slip this quickly since he was a kid. Since he was around Keira. Only she could make that swell of rage bubble in his chest so quickly.

She watched her hands again, slid her palm up her arm and Kona frowned, guessing that it hadn’t been easy for her, all those years. He’d managed because he had only himself to think about. He had a family that encouraged him, gave him the strength he needed to excel. Keira had none of that and in that moment Kona realized where the greatest source of his anger came from. He’d always wanted to protect her. He promised her he would. And when the time came, she hadn’t let him.

Keira broke the silence with a long breath, her words rushing out as though she was afraid of them. “What do you want from us, Kona?”

That instant anger returned, but Kona managed to push it down. “I’m not plotting anything if that’s what you’re thinking. Shit, I’m still trying to absorb the reality that I have a sixteen-year-old son.”

“You…you can’t have him.”

Kona’s mouth fell open and he had to fist his hand to keep his fingers still. “Is that what you think? You think I want to take him from you?”

He saw the relief in her face and unclenched his fingers. She’d been scared that he’d take away the only person she had left? “Keira…I wouldn’t…”

“You have resources I don’t. You’re angry, I understand that, I really do, and whether you believe me or not, my biggest regret is that you didn’t get the chance to raise your son.” Kona cocked up an eyebrow and Keira rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s my fault. But he’s all I have left. He’s my world and we are close, very close. He’s had some…issues.” Kona didn’t like the change in her features, how her mouth dipped, the faint wrinkle under her eyes. “The past few years have been hard.”

“What issues?”

A small, critical laugh, and Keira leaned back, moved her body around to face him. “God Kona, he’s our son. He’s anger has become a significant problem. He threw a kid through a plate glass window last year when he tried to attack Ransom’s friend. It was bad. The school expelled him and there was a lot of kickback from the boy’s family. They’re well off and Ransom was forced into counseling. He got community service and had to do anger management. He was devastated, embarrassed that he went off like that.” The worry was immediate. He hadn’t even met his boy and already Kona was anxious. Keira must have seen that in his features, in the swift frown he couldn’t help, because she leaned toward him, touched his wrist. “He’s trying, we’re trying, but it’s difficult. He only feels better, is able to control himself when he’s on the field or in front of a piano.”

“He plays? Football?” The muscles around his mouth relaxed and Kona smiled at Keira, excited.

“He’s really, really good. Defensive back. He’s been scouted since the end of last year.”

When she shook her head, laughed easy at his expression, Kona scooted closer, smile stretching. They were silent just then and Kona liked the easy comfort that had replaced the thick tension that filled the room the second she walked through the door. One look at her, at the way she brushed her hair behind her ear, the dimple forming with her smile and Kona knew he would forgive her.

But what about his son? How would he take the news that the father he never knew about would be entering his life? Did he hate Kona? Did he resent him? Kona’s smile left his face as he thought of his own absentee father. His mother had never even let his name slip. The man died five years before and the first time he got a look at him was in a large coffin.

He didn’t want that for his son. He didn’t want Mark Burke to continue filling in for him. “What will you tell him? About me, I mean?”

“The truth. I don’t lie to him. I may not always offer full disclosure, but I’ve never lied to him.” Kona looked away from her nodding, unusually nervous. Just the idea of meeting his son had made up, tension-filled scenarios racing in his head, but then Keira touched him again, pulled on his fingers and offered him a comforting smile. “I’ll be honest, this is going to blindside him. I don’t know how he’s going to handle it. But Kona, I’ve never once spoken badly about you to Ransom.” She squeezed his fingers. “He really is amazing and very kind.”

“When?”

Keira pulled her hand away and Kona missed the warmth from her fingers. Her shoulders straightened and she fiddled with the small ring on her pinky as though her nerves had resurfaced to niggle at her calm. “I’ll need some time. I have to tell him gently. I don’t know what he’ll say, how he’ll feel. He’s going to be mad at me, but he’s fiercely protective. I don’t know how he’ll react to you, to be honest.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Kona, I already feel like an asshole. There’s no need for you to make me feel worse. If you’re going to be in his life, then you and I are going to have to act like civilized people. You can hate me on your own, not in front of my son.”

“Our son,” he corrected her, but his voice didn’t shake, wasn’t lifted in a shout. His gaze dropped down to the floor, to Keira’s small feet, and Kona felt nervous for a different reason. “I don’t hate you. Not…not even then, I didn’t hate you.” He managed to glance at her, to push a quick smile onto his mouth before he looked back at the floor. “I was so angry about…about Lu, about me getting everyone into that shit. It took me a long time to figure that out. But this…all of this screws with my head. I’m confused, I’m disappointed that I’ve missed out on so much, but I don’t hate you, Wildcat.”

Keira didn’t hide her smile. It is instant, seemed like the quick recall of something she’d forgotten on purpose. He returned that grin, and it stayed, deepened when she slid closer to him. “Can we be civil, Kona? Can we be, I don’t know—”

“You wanna be my friend?” And just like that, the zip returned. It was faint, barely recognizable, but it still crackled between them. Kona had felt the buzz of it when she touched him, trying to reassure him, but as their gazes caught, Kona felt the whip of energy return. Keira licked her lips and Kona cannot help leaning toward her; the anger and devastation of the day slipped from his mind, left him completely as he stared at Keira and those beautiful flecks of gray in her widening eyes. “I was never your friend, Keira, you know that. I always just wanted you.” An easy lean of his shoulders and Kona’s mouth hovered near hers and Keira did not back away. “Then I needed you.”

Kona moved the small wisps of hair from her forehead with a slow drag of his finger over that soft skin. It was the same. It was exactly the same. So was her reaction to his touch, to the slow movement of his fingers against her forehead. He wanted to kiss her. Despite himself, despite the anger and betrayal he felt, Kona wanted to kiss Keira.

“I never asked, but you married?” His anger, his frustration at her silence had kept the question out of his mind. Now with her sitting next to him, smelling the way she did, looking the way she did, had Kona eager to know if she’d forgotten him completely.

That lulled, comfortable expression on Keira’s face relaxed further, transformed her mouth into a smirk. “No time.” Bottom lip dented beneath her teeth, Keira met Kona’s gaze. “You?”

“No desire.”

Her gaze caught his before she closed her eyes, before she leaned away and a frustrated groan sounded from her throat. She was slow, calm and stood from the sofa, an easy nod of her head telling Kona that she wasn’t really rejecting him.

“I need to go.”

He followed her, his lips tingling from that almost kiss and Kona couldn’t help himself, was eager to tease her now that the anger and tension had left them. “Still running, Wildcat?”

She stared at him, then down at his hand when he grabbed her wrist, but Kona could tell she wasn’t angry; not with that smirk on her face. Keira opened the door, but didn’t walk out of it, not until she looked over her shoulder and the pretty blush he hadn’t seen in far too long warmed her skin. “Don’t call me that, Kona.”

***

Keira

“DID you go with Tristan to the river?” Keira grabbed the rubber ball her son has been bouncing against the refrigerator for the past ten minutes and arched an eyebrow at him when he tried nabbing it from the island.

“Nah.” He settled in across from her on the barstool with his leg bouncing against the footrest and took the ball, running it along the granite surface between his hands. “He wanted to head to the Quarter. There’s a girl who works in the Riverwalk he’s been eye-humping for a month.”

Keira wrinkled her nose. The visual of Leann’s oldest son gawking after some teenage girl with burgeoning lust in his gaze was unwelcomed and Ransom laughed at Keira’s expression. Tristan was, just a year younger than Ransom and Keira remembered the day he was born; she remembered changing his diapers; he and Ransom muddy from the river just outside her small cottage in Nashville. She didn’t want to know Tristian even noticed girls, much less that he’s been eye humping one. “Please. I can’t know that.”

“Mom, come on. He’s almost fifteen.” He leaned across the island, voice lowered behind his laughter. “I bet he even gets boners.”

“Okay, gross.” A shudder worked up Keira’s shoulders and she turned back to the stove, waving off her son’s low laughter as he moved around the island.

“You know, I get boners too sometimes.” Keira squeezed her eyes shut, as though being temporarily blind would eradicate that disturbing image from her mind. It did not. But her son was insistent, amused by her reaction and his annoying laughter only deepened when Keira stirs the sautéing onions with her eyes still shut. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and Keira could feel his shoulders shake. “Well, all the time.”

“You really want me to throw up, right?”

Another laugh and her son nudged her with his elbow. “Sorry. I’m just messing with you.” He backed out of her way, leaned against the counter as Keira moved around the kitchen, checking the temperature in the oven, returning to the island to the cutting board and the head of lettuce still wet from the sink. She knew her son watched her, was suspicious about her activity. She only cooks when she’s nervous, when something weighs on her mind. Keira was certain that Ransom would soon ask what’s bothering her. He’ll know something is up when he catches on to what’s cooking in the oven. “You need some help?” he said, squinting.

“Cut the cucumbers.” Keira was content to move around him, to not meet her son’s gaze as she added the rice to the mixture, as Ransom peeled the skin from the vegetable with his head moving, gaze tracing every move she made. Finally, he cleared his throat, repeated the noise until Keira was forced to look at him. “What?”

The long knife was out of his hands and when he crossed his arms over that massive chest, Keira looked away from him, focused on the bowl in her hand. He looked so much like his father. But her son was persistent, took the bowl out of Keira’s grip. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you think something’s going on?”

He moved his chin toward the stove. “Asparagus risotto, double fudge brownies and...” he lifted the cover from the grill on top of the oven surface, “salmon steaks.” Ransom’s nostrils pinched as he inhaled and he opened the stove, jerking up straight when he peeked inside. “Shit, Mom, you made baked mac-n-cheese. From scratch! What is it?”

Keira rushed to deflect the problem before it started. The signs were there instantly—the swift movement of his nodding head, the gear up for the collection of thoughts that were likely mudding up his reason; the hard bite of his top teeth over his bottom lip. They cautioned his impending rage, the hurried bubble of that epic temper as it crested. Keira was in front of him, hand on the back of his neck, fingernails in the nape before he could get too worked up.

“I want you to calm down.”

“I’m good.” His answer was too automatic, but he did not fight her when she pulled on his arm, when she sat him back down on the barstool.

“Ransom.”

Eyes closed and he took a breath, leaned his elbow on the counter and Keira relaxed. “Just tell me, please.”

The words had rested on her tongue for years. She’d tasted them, moved them around her mouth like a bitter wine for as long as he’s been alive. But Keira had never found the courage to release them. Her boy looked at her now, desperate, worried and they left her mouth, through her weak voice just to take that anxious fear from his expression.

“I’m ready to talk to you about your father.”

He sat up straight and instantly that fear was gone, replaced by the stupid, wide smile that is so similar to Kona’s. “Really?” Keira nodded. “Why?” Ransom asked, some of that happiness dimming.

“He…he was at the Market today.” The timer on the oven sounded and Keira moved toward it, pulled out the baked macaroni to set it on a hot plate. Ransom followed, turned her by the shoulders before she could take off her oven mitts. He didn’t speak; they’ve always shared this silent little language, a nod of his head that says “continue” and her quiet exhale that told him she’d explain. “He saw you.”

“Okay?”

“Sweetie, one look at you and he knew. He just knew.” There were four perfectly round freckles, faint, but dark under Ransom’s left eye. When he was younger, every month, he’d insisted that she count them, see if more had joined the others; it was a game to him. It broke Keira’s heart to play it. She ran her fingers over those spots just then, trying to ignore the memory of Kona’s freckles, how she’d kissed every one. “You look so much like him.” Ransom took her fingers, held them away from his face, a silent request that she stop procrastinating.

In those deep dark eyes Keira saw so much. They flashed sweet memories of frustration, of laughter, of sick, consuming obsession. But on the surface, in the soft curve of his cheeks, Keira sees only her boy, that chubby little four-year-old too scared of the height and looming depths of the park slide to even attempt climbing the ladder.

She pushed his thick hair out of his eyes and another memory flashed forward, this one of a boy who wouldn’t let his brother walk into danger; one that asked for Keira’s help. “He had a twin. He died. I never told you that. Luka was his name and he was a good man. Sometimes you remind me of him, but really you’re…you so like…like Kona.” She waited for his reaction, for his surprise, but it didn’t come.

“Finally,” Ransom said, his features, his body all lowering, relaxing as though all the weight of what he’d know had left him.

Keira, though was surprised, confused by his reaction. “What do you mean, ‘finally’?”

One quick laugh and Ransom rested next to her, shoulders on the wall. “Mom, I’m pretty smart. Hello, 4.23 GPA.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m still paying off the ‘Oh Look How Smart We Are’ camp.” She nudged him. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve known since I was thirteen.”

It took her a moment, a few brief seconds as she watched him, the easy smile, the wave of his hand, before she believed him. “Excuse me?”

“Shit, Mom, you never wanted to talk about it. And then Hale got signed to the Broncos. I was thirteen and we flew up to Englewood for my Beta convention and the Broncos were doing spring training, open to the public.” Ransom flipped his bangs out of his eyes and Keira noticed that his dismissive tone was rehearsed; that he must have practiced this little speech for years. “I begged and begged you to take me but you freaked out. We had to miss the rest of the convention because you hustled us back to Tennessee.” He crossed to the island and grabbed the rubber ball again, squeezed it in his hand. “But, Mom, that wasn’t the first time. I know how to Google. Why do you think I wanted to meet him so badly? You know how many times guys on my team called me Lil Kona? I’m not blind. I saw the similarities and a few online interviews told me you and Hale were at CPU together. It all added up.” Ransom shrugged, waving off Keira’s frown. “The year of the convention Leann came up to visit and I asked her about it. She only confirmed what I knew.” Ransom bounced the ball once on the floor, but then stopped, folded his arms over his chest. When he spoke again, his mouth was straight, serious and there was no playful tone in his voice. “She made me promise not to mention him to you. She said he destroyed you. She said I was better off not knowing anything about him. So I let it go.”

All these years later and Leann still didn’t know how to stop meddling. She wanted to be angry at her cousin. It wasn’t her place to answer Keira’s son’s questions. But Leann has always been braver than Keira and she knew her intentions weren’t spiteful. She still wanted to pop her in the head, though. “She shouldn’t have told you.”

“Does it really matter now? That was three years ago, Mom and I’ve dealt with it. Kona Hale is my father. I’m okay with it.” Again Ransom bounced his ball, and that somber tone was replaced again by his easy humor. “It sucks that he’s never been around, but I got you. That was always more than enough for me.”

Ransom always did that; saw the upside in every situation. She often told him he was born old and Keira knew his maturity, the way he reasoned and spoke came from the role of confidant she’d forced him into. Sometimes she felt guilty that she’s depended on this kid for so long, that’s she’s asked him to bear the weight of her emotional upheaval, but he’d never complained. Just like now, Ransom took what came and dealt with it.

He was so different than her. His heartache, pushed down, sacrificed for her and she felt pathetic, useless that she could not protect him from this loss, that he had to question and wonder in silence.

Keira’s heartache all those years ago had been raw and she hadn’t had anyone either who could help her tamp it down. Back then, she’d only wanted to remember her breath, remember what it was to feel her lungs expand, to let the air shoot from her chest and out of her nose. But she couldn’t. The air had been too thick. Each inhalation was a battle and she wore her wounds inside, beneath the hard bristle of weight born the day she walked away from Kona. And it stayed there, grew larger, heavier until she forgot what breathing was, until she forgot what it was to relax, to rest, without the crippling weight caging her to the ground.

And then, one July morning eight months later, she remembered. She remembered to bear down, to hold steady, to push and so she did. And all that she buried in those eight short months—his touch, his warmth, the breath he gave her—sped forward in the blood and sweat and blissful pain of ten small fingers, ten perfect toes and then, just then, in a hospital in Nashville, Keira remembered to breathe.

Ransom had reminded her how.

Keira couldn’t help the small collection of tears that formed in her eyes, and she blinked them away, knowing that the one thing Ransom couldn’t ever take was her crying. “You are not a normal teenager.”

“Well, you’ve never been a normal mom. Besides,” he grabbed her hand, gave her fingers a squeeze. “What have you always told me?”

He’d always remembered the conversation they had when he was five. He loved hearing it over and over. “It’s you and me, kid.”

His nod told her that the small emotional catharsis was over and he returned to the island, picked up the knife and focused the cucumbers. “So, what did he say?”

“You mean after he stopped giving me evil glares?”

Ransom shrugged. “It had to be a shock for him.” Her kid was Pollyanna. Leann’s positive projection finally stuck with someone and though his “can do, see the best in everyone” attitude could be annoying, Keira was proud of the way her son choose to see the world.

“To say the least.” She distracted herself with finishing the meal, prepping the serving dishes as Ransom reached for a tomato. “He wants to meet you.” Keira came to his side, scooped up the peelings into the trash and she watched him, checked his expression to see if that positive attitude faltered. “You okay with that? I mean he’s been your hero since you were a kid.”

He jerked his attention to her, a twitch of his smile and Ransom shook his head. “No he hasn’t. He’s a phenomenal ball player, Mom, but he isn’t my hero. You are.” When Keira’s chin wobbled and that burn returned to her eyes, Ransom called her on it, dismissed her emotion with a roll of his eyes. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that I’m gonna start talking about my boners again.”

“Please. God no.” She kissed his cheek, had to lift up on the balls of her feet to reach his skin. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yep. I’m good.” There was a moment when her son frowned, thinking of something he kept to himself, but it passed as quickly as it came and the teasing tone returned to his voice. “Now come on woman, feed me your guilt food.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

KONA

KONA’S MOTHER had lied to him before. He’d caught her. At the time, he couldn’t stay mad at her. Kuku got cancer and it was terminal. Kona was playing in the AFC finals, happy, excited at the chance to be on a team that could land in the Super Bowl. It wasn’t until after they won when Kona was coming down off the high that win gave him that his mother told him about the diagnosis.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she’d said. “That game meant so much to you and Kuku didn’t want me mentioning anything to you. Not until the last moment.”

That last moment came two days before the Super Bowl. Kona hadn’t cared about the game. He only wanted to be with his kuku. But he’d made a promise. His grandfather wanted him in that game. He wanted Kona to forget him, if only for a few hours. And so he did. He’d played. They’d won and the last moment came as he held his Kuku’s hand, cried like a little boy as the old man took his final breaths.

He forgave his mother.

But as he waited in the old Victorian, arm across the back of the sofa, posture easy, he thought forgiveness would not come so easily now.

He heard her Mercedes pull into the drive and Kona fleetingly thought that she needed a brake job, that the squeak when she stopped is getting worse than it had been two days before when she picked him up from the airport.

Her long, thin skirt swayed against her legs as Kona watched her through the window and he gripped the back of the couch, somewhat nervous, still angry that she’d kept this secret so long.

Keys on the table in the foyer and his mother stopped short as she entered the living room, eyebrows up high when she looked at him. “Keiki kane? What are you doing here?” She dropped her bags, worry etched in her face so that the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “What’s happened?”

He didn’t answer. Kona moved his chin, motioned for his mother to sit across from him. She was tiny now; had grown so thin and he worried about her. The professor was nearing her mid-sixties and she didn’t cook for herself, didn’t do more than shop and putter around in her garden.

Her back was straight as she sat on the glass coffee table, gazing over his face, looking, Kona suspected, for any hint of what had him so sullen, so quiet. “Yesterday in the Market,” he said, eyes lowered, glaring at her, “I saw Keira.”

The worry disappeared and his mother’s posture became less rigid. “And?”

Kona dismissed the curiosity. He wanted to measure her reaction, to see if a confession would come. “I spoke to her.”

“Kona, no.” She’d already abandoned her worry. She’d always hated Keira, even before the wreck, before Luka. He’d never known why and this flippant attitude that had her standing, had her picking her purse up from the floor and lifting her wide hat from her head, only confirmed that her opinion had not changed. “It’s best you stay away from her. After all she did…”

“What do you think she did, Mom?” His mother snapped her attention to him, a snarl curling her top lip, but Kona ignored it. “You think she’s responsible? Still? After all these years?”

“If she’d minded her own business…”

“She wanted to protect me. So…so did Luka.” He leaned up, rested his elbows on his knees. “It was my fault. You never understood that. I led them there.”

“Don’t say that. No.” His mother sat next to Kona, took his hands and some of his irritation was replaced with gratitude. She never thought he’d done anything wrong. His sins, his crimes, she always excused away as though they were the stupid behavior of a misguided kid, not felonies he’d willingly jumped into.

Then the flash of that boy in the Market returned to him and Kona pulled his hands away from his mother, stared over her head to the window and the fat blooms of hydrangea and roses lining the walkway outside. “It’s a funny thing; the women in my life getting into my business.” He looked back at her. “You’ve always messed with my business.”

She sat up straighter. “What are you saying?”

“You knew. You’ve known this whole time and you never told me.” They stared at each other, his mother squinting, playing a game, seeing whose tells will give away their hands. “He looks just like me, Mom. He’s me exactly.”

She stood, walked to the vase near the window, fiddled with the arrangement of magnolias and hydrangeas. “If he looks like you, it’s because you and your brother were so similar.”

His mother hated his anger, always said it was his father’s bad blood that had him lashing out. She’d never blame that defect on her family. And so she busied herself with the flowers, pulling out the stems, adjusting their height as though he hadn’t just accused her of lying to him for nearly sixteen years.

He couldn’t wait, felt his patience sliding through him. “Mom?” His tone was harsh, sharp and his mother jerked at the sound.

Finally, she looked over her shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice shook. “I knew Keira was pregnant. Her mother told me the day after Luka…” She turned back to the flowers and the petals fall around the vase. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“By keeping my son from me?” Kona darted from the couch and in three strides, he was behind her, fighting against himself to lower his voice.

His mother faced him, twisting a dead flower in her hand. She stared at Kona’s collar, to the V-neck of his shirt and the silver chain that disappeared underneath it. Then her eyes lifted, were glassy. “By never telling you that the girl you thought you loved was carrying your brother’s child.”

“That’s not true.” Kona twisted out of his mother’s touch, stepping back. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make his lungs inflate enough to catch a deep breath. “That can’t be true.” Luka and Keira? No. That just didn’t make sense. He glared at his mother, knees wobbling when he saw her tears. She’d told him her suspicions years ago; it had led to the biggest fight he and his twin had ever had. He’d bloodied Luka’s bottom lip and Kona’s brother had returned the favor by bruising his eye.

Keira had sworn she didn’t want Luka and then later, his twin told him what a jackass he was for even thinking he’d touch Kona’s girl.

They couldn’t have lied that well. They couldn’t have been together without Kona knowing.

“Luka told me, keiki kane,” his mother said, leading him into a chair near the window. She kneeled in front of him and as a distraction, Kona wiped her face dry. “He told me he loved her, but he didn’t want to betray you any more than he already had.”

He refused to believe her, brushed her hand from his arm when she touched him. His gut told him that this is wrong, that it just can’t be true. But his mother was a good woman; she was a little overbearing, a little protective of him even now, but she would never lie about something like this. She would never taint Luka’s memory.

When she stood, stepped back and stared down at Kona, he glanced up at her, waiting for an explanation he isn’t sure he wanted to hear. “She named the boy Luka, didn’t she?” Kona opened his mouth, a question tipping his tongue, but she waved him off. “I kept tabs. He’s my grandson, after all, but I knew she’d never let us in their lives and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I knew how badly it would hurt.”

His head felt so heavy, like he’d had too much to drink and Kona leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. “Keira would have never, and Luka…” The thought of his twin was like a splinter in his chest; it always had been. Most days Kona could bury his memory, his face, so deep that he often forgot what his brother looked like. He didn’t want this to be true. It was hard enough forgetting what Luka’s death had done to their family, what his loss had cost Kona; he couldn’t have this betrayal added to that pain.

It just can’t be true.

“Ask for a test. You’ll see for yourself.” Kona recognized that tone; it was the same one his mother always used to end most arguments. She stood, walked away from him and lingered by the door. He could feel the weight of her revelation and the subtle joy he knew she got now that she’d told Kona what kind of person Keira had been. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I know how much you loved them both.”

He thought he did, he thought, one day, he still could. Now, he just didn’t know.

***

Keira

SEETHING. It’s the only word Keira could think of to define the bubble of rage pounding in her mind. She couldn’t even look at Kona, but she felt his eyes on her, that steady glare she knew was in his gaze as they sat across a long conference table in his lawyer’s office.

The battle ax at Kona’s side was smiling.

Keira had suspicions. She knew how the old professor worked. She was always Kona’s one flaw—the thing that annoyed Keira the most about him when they were together. He’d believe anything that mean bitch told him. A slip of her gaze at that wide, phony smile and Keira knew it was her idea to ask for a DNA test.

Kona, at least, seemed to feel the awkward air of anger in the room. Keira glanced at him, caught his frown, that simmering calm she knew was forced and then looked away.

“Okay,” the chubby lawyer with the ridiculous name, Martin Martin said, coming through the door to sit at the head of the table. In his hand was a manila envelope and he waved it around like it was a winning Lotto ticket and not the results that Keira knew had been forged. “We have the tests results, Ms. Riley.” The man looked to be in his mid-fifties with gray hair above his ears and at his temples. The smile was professional, friendly, but too polished, teeth too white. He would have fit into her mother’s social circle with little difficulty. “Keep in mind, Ms. Riley that since Mr. Hale and his deceased brother were twins, the lab expanded the testing to thirty-two loci instead of the usual fifteen. Brothers will typically match and so the lab tested Mr. Hale’s sample as well as Luka’s.”

“How?” Keira asked, wondering what lengths Kona’s mother had gone to, to make sure Keira looked like an idiot.

“The autopsy. Professor Alana had the samples stored.”

Of course she did, Keira thought, suddenly realizing that the woman had likely planned this. She’d known Keira didn’t go through with the abortion. It was something a woman like her would have checked up on. Storing Luka’s DNA was her insurance.

The lawyer cleared his throat, bringing Keira’s attention back to the head of the table. “In this case Luka Hale’s DNA and Mr. Hale’s were tested as the potential fathers of the child.” Keira hated the way the man called Ransom a child. She hated the way he spoke Luka’s name as though he was a footnote, the unlucky pawn that got blamed for Ransom’s existence.

Keira could only stare at the gold ring on the lawyer’s hand as he slid the envelope across the smooth table. She knew they watched her, took in her slow movements, the flick of her nails against the brass brads as she opened it.

She was not surprised when she read the results:

Kona Hale: Probability of paternity: 50%

Luka Hale: Probability of paternity: 99%

Keira blinked, then closed her eyes, slipping the paper back into the envelope. “Well now,” she said, staring right at Kona’s mother. “Isn’t that convenient?”

“Excuse me, Keira?” the woman said. Her smile was so wide that her lips looked thin.

The lawyer again cleared his throat, perhaps sensing the build of tension in the room. “Naturally, since Mr. Hale has been ruled out as the father, he will not be making any arrangements in terms of child support or back payment for the past sixteen years.” Keira watched Kona, her anger building as she noticed his posture, how he’d crossed his arms, tightened his shoulder. How he refused to look at her.

“Money?” Keira leaned on the table, slapping her hand on the surface when Kona averted her gaze. Finally, he looked at her, expression tight, guarded. “You think I want your money?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Keira, really. This can all be settled.” She couldn’t even look at Kona’s mother when she spoke to her. That tone was too familiar and Keira leaned back, forced herself to keep her eyes on the table as the woman continued. “The boy is still our blood and Kona wants to help you out. Isn’t that right, keiki kane?”

When Kona only nodded, Keira pushed back from the table. Sixteen years ago, her temper, her rage would have her wanting to crawl over the table and jump on top of that bitch. But Keira was not that angry girl anymore. Time, distance, motherhood had all calmed her, given her reflection and hindsight. So she didn’t scream at Kona’s mother. She didn’t call Kona a spineless asshole for letting his mother and lawyer hold his balls. Instead, Keira picked up her bag and pushed her chair back under the table, hand resting on the back.

To his lawyer, she nodded. “I am not interested in any monetary arrangements.” The man’s eyebrows lifted and Keira saw the question rounding his eyelids. “Mr. Martin, I’ve won a Grammy and have written a dozen platinum songs. I don’t need Mr. Hale’s money.”

When the professor clicked her tongue, Keira jerked her head around. “Don’t believe me?”

“Girls like you are always calculating.” As the woman leaned forward, arms on the table, she sneered at Keira, cold, pensive, as though she believed reading Keira, understanding her, was simple. “I know damn good and well that this won’t be the last we hear from you.”

“Girls like me, Professor Alana? You mean girls who take care of themselves? Or girls who make their own way?”

“Keira, don’t play the martyr.” The woman brushed off Kona’s hand on her wrist, his vain attempt to get his mother to calm down. “I know your mother left you a substantial inheritance.”

“Yes, she did and I donated every single dime to charities she would have hated; the NAACP, the American Indian College Fund, Water.org.” She tried not to let Kona’s attempts at fighting a smile dim any of her anger. “Believe me or not, but I’ve done pretty well for myself and I don’t need Kona’s money.” Keira was done with this ridiculous conversation. She’d given Kona and that bitter, hateful mother of his too much of her time. Her hand was in her purse, pulling out the envelope before either of them could argue with her.

“And while we’re talking about girls like me, girls that are calculating, why not admit a few things? Like who suggested what lab would do the testing?” She looked at Kona. “Was it her?” She nodded to Alana who made strange little noises of protest, forcing Keira to speak louder. “And why in God’s name would she have stored Luka’s autopsy samples all these years?” She walked around the table and placed the envelope in front of Kona. “And if she was so convinced that Luka was Ransom’s father then why the hell would she have given me this?” Keira leaned down, ignored how good Kona smelled as her mouth lingered near his ear. “I think you know it’s well past time for your balls to drop, asshole.” Keira backed up when he turned, eyes hard, frown severe but she wasn’t threatened by him or the cold way he glared at her. “You keep away from my kid. You don’t deserve to know him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

KONA

KONA DIDN’T like swallowing his pride. He’d do it, had done it a dozen or so times in his life, but apologized still tasted bitter, dry on his tongue.

This time, though, as he drove up the street he hadn’t been on in decades, Kona would be eating crow for both himself and his manipulative mother.

He pulled the rental car across the street from the lake house staring at the large porch, the wide gables. It was simple on this side of the property; a pretty mammoth, well cared for despite the age. And on the other side, Kona recalled the fenced yard that led down to a dock, out onto the smooth waters of Lake Pontchartrain.

He closed his eyes, seeing the rest of the property, knowing what was on the other side of that fence: the wrought iron trellis that led to the second floor balcony. How many times had he climbed it? How many nights and early mornings had he shimmied up and down it, fingers avoiding the sharp pricks from the roses woven between the spaces to get into Keira’s room? A dozen? A hundred? He didn’t know.

Sometimes he’d taken the trellis slowly, worried that he’d fall, that it would give under his massive weight. Sometimes he didn’t care enough to worry; he’d been too focused on what waited for him inside. That body, that laugh, those fingers, that mouth. He would have crawled through glass to get to her. Once, he had.

Now Kona looked at the place, the blooming spring flowers, the full Crepe Myrtles and wondered about the woman inside. Her anger the day before had been like a poison, heady and thick. Kona didn’t blame her.

His mother’s lies, the deception all made Kona feel stupid, simple. He wasn’t a dumb man. He was educated, he was moderately mature. So why had he not seen the way his mother deceived him? How could he have not believed in Keira? They’d made headway, crossed the bridge from the past, began to forgive each other and in one afternoon, he let his mother strip that all away.

A visit to the punk kid working in the lab and one small threat in his frown and Kona had uncovered the truth.

“That professor lady, Mr. Hale, she paid me five thousand bucks! I couldn’t turn that down.”

Five thousand dollars destroyed Kona’s chance at knowing his son. And the boy was his. The lab kid confirmed it. Keira hadn’t lied. Kona had a son, not Luka.

Five thousand dollars and his mother took away another connection to blood, to family.

He’d let her threaten whatever he hoped to have with his son.

“Why did you do this?” he’d asked her, waving the aged, yellow check in his hand. The one she’d hastily written to Keira all those years ago. “Why would you lie?”

“I was protecting you. I will always protect you, Kona.” His mother’s tears had been real. The trembling in her limbs, the pale, washed out color of her skin. She’d been scared, petrified that Kona’s anger would have him walking away from her without ever looking back.

He couldn’t forgive her. He’d left her crying on her sofa, looking old, looking weak with no promises that he’d ever see her again.

From his car, Kona saw his son coming out of the front door. Tall, strong, wide shoulders, thick legs. He was beautiful; the most remarkable thing Kona had ever let his eyes land on. His son waved to the old woman trimming weeds from her flower bed the next yard over and then the boy ran on the sidewalk, iPod in his ears, head down, concentrating as he slipped past Kona’s car.

He waited. Watched in the rearview mirror until his son disappeared around the corner and Kona popped his neck, rubbed his face before he left the rental.

A weird flash of déjà vu hit him as him headed up the front walk, palms sweating, heart jackhammering in his chest and when his ring on the doorbell went unanswered and Kona heard the sound of a piano behind the front glass, he twisted his head, glanced inside to see Keira in front of the large Steinway.

Behind her, the patio doors were open, and the breeze from the lake blew her hair around her face. Kona stopped breathing, felt the rapid beat of his heart increasing.

My God, is she beautiful.

The grass needed mowing, was thick and Kona’s heavy feet crunched the blades as he walks around the house, to the back of the house. The fence has the same busted latch, the one he’d broken sixteen years before, and so it was easy for Kona to slip right through the wood fence, just like he’d done at twenty, eager to get to Keira. He took the same path up the walkway, noticing the gardenia bush next to the bathroom window was overgrown, small buds clustered between those shiny green leaves.

As he walked around the large AC unit, the tune of one of Keira’s songs, “Better Men,” flew off the patio tiles and Kona frowned. He hated that song. Hated it more now that he knew Keira wrote it with him in mind. Then her voice rang out above the notes and Kona felt the muscles around his mouth tighten.

YOU’RE NOT special

You’re not a surprise

You laid me down with grins

Burned me with your lies

But don’t feel accomplished

Don’t think you’ve done anything new

‘Cause baby I’ve seen it all before

I’ve been burned by better men than you

IT BECAME an anthem for scorned women everywhere ten years ago and the second Kona discovered Keira had written it, he found the references a bit too familiar, the anger too sharp. His Wildcat had been angry for years and she capitalized on that anger.

There was a manic expression on her face as he watched her. Hair flapping against her shoulders and her fingers pounding the keys, Kona touched his chest, a habit he’s acquired when he feels pressure, when he needed to feel something that centered him. Now the one thing that always made him feel better, calmer, sat feet from him, angry voice beautiful and bellowing as she sang about an asshole, a loser who took what he wanted and walked away.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself, trying to make the race of his heart settle. When the music died abruptly, Kona opened his eyes, gazed straight ahead and focused on Keira’s frown as she stared at him.

She didn’t take her fingers from the keys. She didn’t leave the piano at all. But the severe frown remained, stayed fixed before Keira turned away from him and her fingers moved slower, calmer, the song haunting and sad.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, coming through the open doorway.

Her stubbornness had not diminished in all this time and Kona was not surprised that she ignored him; that the poison he felt from her the day before was still thick, still toxic.

Keira wore a simple pair of jeans and a thin sleeveless black tank that hugged her small waist and pushed up her beautiful breasts. Kona couldn’t help but stare at the perfect curve in her back, at the subtle way her body dipped and bent and he had to remind himself he wasn’t there to gawk at her or hope for things he could never have again.

The melody changed, shifted to something he recognized and a quick ache squeezed in his chest as Keira played Mary J’s “Not Gonna Cry.”

“Keira, please. I’m trying to apologize.”

Hands flat against the keys, she whipped her gaze to him, that ever-present glare only hardening. “Apologize for what, Kona? Letting your mother call me a whore?” Her attention returned to the piano and her fingers hit the keys in soft taps. “Or did you want to apologize for not believing me?” Striking the ivory harder now, Keira’s arm shook and Kona stepped next to the piano. “Maybe you want to apologize for allowing your mother to lie about your brother and me. Maybe, I dunno, maybe you wanna apologize for acting like a sackless wonder while she and that Twinkie of a lawyer spoke for you.” Another glare at him and her fingers stilled. “That was very manly, Hale.”

He took the venom without arguing. She was right. Every word was a punishment, something Kona knew he deserved. But he still had to make his apologies. Keira straightened up, took her hands from the keys when he knelt next to the seat.

“Yes. For all that. She’s manipulative and she didn’t care about insulting my brother’s memory.” He had to stop himself from touching her when some of the stiffness of her frown softened. “Yes, I was a punk. I let her convince me that you’d lied. It’s not an excuse, but I never realized how long she’d planned this. I didn’t speak up. I didn’t try to stop her. I’m an asshole who doesn’t deserve to meet my son. I don’t deserve a lot of things, Keira.” Kona closed his eyes, tried to ignore the pout on her lips and how badly he wanted to kiss them. “But I’m here, on my knees asking you to forgive me. I’m here because I want to know my son. Will you let me? Please, Keira?”

She inhaled, shoulders moving up, and then Keira returned her fingers to the keys. “No.”

And Kona was disregarded, ignored again when Keira hid behind those notes. On the drive over, he promised himself he wouldn’t get angry; that he’d take whatever she gave him and accept it. He’d let her take the lead in this. She’d been the one raising the boy on her own. She’d been responsible for him when she was barely old enough to know what that meant.

But Keira Riley did something to Kona. Always. Only she could make his stomach clench, bubble with frustration, with quick, easy anger and her dismissal has that burn stirring in gut. “You are being stubborn as hell.”

Kona shot up on his feet, stepping back when she kicked the bench away, when she slammed the cover over the keys. “Yes I am, you asshole.” She took a step and Kona felt that bubble of anger shift, lower. He didn’t want to get worked up by this, but the deep shade of red on her cheeks and how her eyes were lit with fierce rage, had Kona’s dick twitching, made his fingers buzz. He watched her move toward him, wondering if she’d lash out, annoyed with himself when he hoped she did.

“I will not ever let you treat my son like that. I will not put him in a situation where you or your mother can hurt him.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You don’t have a say so in it.” Another step and Kona stopped retreating, curious what she’d try. “He is my son and you cannot meet him. I don’t want you near him and if that bitch ever thinks about contacting him…”

“She won’t. I promise, you, she won’t.”

“You think your word means anything to me? You think your promises are worth anything at all?”

The twitching stopped, completely reversed. He had grown hard the louder her voice grew, realizing that he missed her passion, the quick anger that never failed to turn him on as a kid. It was fire; something Kona hadn’t experienced with a woman since Keira busted the jail’s telephone receiver. But her mentioning his broken promises took away that excitement, replaced it with a thick cocktail of guilt and frustration.

“This isn’t about you and me, Keira. Fuck! You don’t get that? I’m not here to win you back.” Kona’s hands flew to his hair, rubbed the back of his head and he turned away from her, looked out at the lake to keep his anger in check.

“You’ll hurt him,” she said, her voice softer, cautious.

“No, I won’t.” Kona looked down at Keira, away from her full mouth, breathing through his nose, ignoring the urge to touch her. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. He’s my son, Keira. I won’t hurt him.”

When she folded her arms and looked to the row of photographs on the wall—all of her mother and those rich bitch friends of hers—Kona risked another rejection by grazing his finger against her elbow. “We have to come to an understanding. Whatever happens from here on out, it has to be about him first. Dredging up the past isn’t going to help anyone and it certainly won’t make things easy for him, will it? Not if he’s put in the middle of our shit.” Keira’s eyebrows lowered and that hard edge that made her mouth look something like a straight line, disappeared. “You agree?” he asked her, moving his head to catch her gaze.

“I agree.” A little nod of her head and Keira stepped back, but she was still closed off from him, arms still cradled tight against her body. “Ransom wouldn’t want that anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want what?”

If Kona had a mirror, one that shot back a reflection of his younger self, then Ransom would be what he saw. He wasn’t a sentimental guy, not generally, and he liked kids well enough; had wanted his own for years now. Kona didn’t get off on beautiful sunsets or centuries old masterpieces. If he saw something he thought was nice, he either bought it, bedded it or guzzled it down. Most of the time, whatever he admired warranted a pleased jerk of his chin. But seeing this boy in front of him threw all of Kona’s composed swagger and cool right out the open doors behind him. The boy was beautiful and strong and amazed Kona with one single glance.

Fleetingly, he wondered what the boy had been like as a kid, if, like Luka he’d had a little chunk or was he lean like Kona had always been? He pushed those thoughts aside quickly, not wanting to dwell on all the milestones he’d missed in his son’s life.

Ransom walked forward, sweaty, looking tired as he pocketed his iPod and smiled at Kona, giving him a nod before he stood at Keira’s side.

“What wouldn’t I want?” he asked his mother, but his gaze kept veering to Kona.

“Us. Fighting about shit that doesn’t matter.” Keira rubbed her face, shaking off her earlier annoyance and anger before she grabbed Ransom’s hand. “Sweetie, this is your father, Kona.”

Absently, Kona tugged on the hem of the white button up he wore, unusually nervous, worried by the way his son looked him over, and he thought he might get some attitude, maybe a thousand questions about why there had been a DNA test and why his mother had returned home yesterday likely ready to spit fire. But Ransom didn’t ask a single question. He nodded again and an easy, warm smile crossed his features. Kona blinked, shivering when the right side of the boy’s mouth curled in a half grin. Luka had done that a lot. He’d done that often and seeing that gesture after so long made Kona’s palms sweat and his chest twinge.

“Hey man,” Ransom said, lifting his hand toward Kona.

He took the boy’s hand, pulling him into a dude hug—hands grasped and a quick pat on the back.

“You remind me of my brother.” The words were out before Kona realized he’d said them and he thought he might have messed up; that his honesty was too telling or that Keira might think it was a dig at her and the stupid accusation his mother made.

“Oh, you mean my real father?” Ransom said, but he laughed, slapping Kona’s shoulder and the melancholy and nervousness he felt instantly disappeared.

Keira jabbed the boy in the side and his laughter increased. “That is not funny, you little shit.”

Ransom kissed the top of her head, had to bend down to reach it and Kona’s chest pinched for a different reason. They loved each other, that much he could tell and the thought that his boy had turned into someone so laid back, so seemingly willing to make others comfortable pulled a wider, honest smile to Kona’s face.

“Ugh. Go take a shower. You smell disgusting.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, grinning at his mother when she moved his shoulders and pushed him toward the hallway. “Easy, woman, I’m going.” He glanced at Kona. “You sticking around?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Cool. Maybe we can sweet talk Mom into making chili.” He pulled the sweat slick shirt over his head and winked at his mother before he grinned at Kona. “You ever have her chili?” Kona shook his head and the boy shrugged. “Well, it’s awesome. I call it her Bless Jesus Chili.”

“Your mom had me blessing Jesus a lot, but not for her cooking.” Kona bit his lip, realizing too late that he probably shouldn’t have said that. Keira glared at him, looked like she wanted to smack him hard, and he thought Ransom was insulted, maybe thought Kona was disrespecting his mother. But after a few seconds that lingered, Ransom laughed hard and loud.

“Oh shit.” He held his stomach, gave Kona a fist bump. “I like you, Kona.”

And with that, Kona’s son left the room, his laughter bouncing off the walls of the hallway.

“Asshole,” Keira said, but Kona caught the small smile she tried keep off her lips.

***

The lake house smelled wonderful. Kona’s mouth watered, his eyes moistening as the smell of chili powder and cornbread perfumed the air. If the smells were any indication, then cooking was a skill Keira had acquired and she was damn good at it. She’d already slapped Ransom’s hand from the simmering pot twice when the boy tried stealing a taste and Kona couldn’t blame him. The smell alone made Kona’s stomach grumble and whine.

He excused himself, walking down the hall to the bathroom and that smell followed him. He slipped in and out quickly and hit the light, started to make back for the dining room where his son was talking to his cousin Tristan and Leann while Keira took a phone call. But then the light from the back of the house glinted against the framed photos on the wall and Kona stood in front of a row of pictures, all of Keira, her as a child, graduating high school, her on the docks outside with her Gibson on her lap.

Fleetingly, he wondered if she still had it, but the thought had him feeling guilty, remembering how she’d almost lost her father’s prized Hummingbird; how it had been his fault.

Kona rubbed a thumb over the scar on his cheek and was about to leave the hallway and the shameful memories those pictures had pulled from his mind, but he heard Keira’s voice, stepped silently toward it as she talked on the phone in the office.

A slip of light fell onto the hardwood at his feet through the crack in the door and Kona looked down at the grain and edges of that oak wood. He knew he had no business listening. Nothing she said had anything to do with him. He shouldn’t care that her voice was affectionate, pitched high.

“Oh, I know, sweetie, don’t worry about that.” Southern folks called everyone sweetie. Or honey. Or sugar. It was custom. It was habit, but Keira saying that word, saying it with that soft tone, set Kona’s teeth on edge. He didn’t know the woman she was now, but as a girl she’d reserved her pet names for him. He leaned his head against the wall, listening, praying that the tone would harden, that she’d stop using those endearments.

“No,” she said, clearing her throat. “I don’t know. He’s here now and it’s okay. Well, it got okay after we screamed at each other.”

Walk away. He wasn’t eager to hear Keira insulting him, talking about him like he was an asshole. But you are an asshole, he told himself. Hello, DNA test! Still, the small chuckle Keira released kept him rooted to that shadowed space next to the door. He wanted to hear a name. He wanted to know what she’d say to the guy who brought out Keira’s pacifying, sweet tone.

“The end of summer, at least. I think Ransom is going to try to get into a camp, maybe one at Tulane and I’ve got to settle all the shit with Steven’s estate.”

Tulane? Hell no. No son of his would be practicing at freaking Tulane.

“Are you going to be okay for that long? I hated leaving you.”

Kona felt a cramp in his stomach, one that twisted up his esophagus and he told himself to push down that sensation. It shouldn’t matter to him that Keira probably had someone back in Nashville. She was a beautiful woman. She was strong and confident. She was talented and smart, he’d never kidded himself into believing she’d be without a man. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t jealous. That didn’t mean he’d stop listening.

“Bobby, no. I can come home if you need me. I’m serious. Of course…well, no, but…” Keira’s words rushed out, and Kona could hear the frustration, the worry in her voice. “You know I will. Okay. Yes. Yes, of course. I love you, sweetie.”

Four small words that felt like a gut punch.

Three words that Kona hadn’t uttered to anyone in sixteen years.

Keira said them easily. She said them like she meant them and Kona couldn’t listen anymore.

“You know I will. Sure. Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

Kona tried to pull the instant, stupid-looking relieved smile from his face as he walked into the dining room, waving off a slice of cornbread Ransom had lifted from the oven as he sat at the table.

“So Kona, you back for good?” Leann asked and Kona looked at her, needing a distraction so he wouldn’t stare after Keira when she returned to the kitchen.

He nodded to Ransom, a small thanks when the boy sat a bottle of Abita in front of him. “I don’t know yet, Leann. My agent is trying to work something out, but the Steamers’ defensive line is pretty strong.”

“One of the best in the league,” Ransom offered, taking a sip of his sweet tea.

Another nod and a swig from his bottle and Kona shrugged. “We’ll see how spring training goes. I’m set to start with them in a few weeks, but I’ve been putting out feelers on some other things.” Leann grinned at him and Kona got the feeling her question had been polite, that she wasn’t all that interested in who Kona signs with.

Leanna sat at the table peelings cucumbers, slapping her son’s hand from the bowl of clean vegetables and fussing at her younger son when he ran through the dining room with wet feet. “Outside, you little monster.”

Kona’s gaze followed the boy and he smiled at his white blonde hair, at the low growl of a laugh he made when his mother continued fussing. “Two boys?” Kona said to her, moving his chin between the little guy running out onto the patio and the one sitting next to Ransom as both boys checked their phones.

“Yes. Two was plenty.”

“You don’t dance anymore?” He was curious, trying to catch up, trying like hell not to watch Keira as she moved around the kitchen.

“I do. I own a studio in Kenner.”

“That’s good. Owning a business will keep you out of trouble.”

“Then maybe my boys should think about it.”

Kona’s grin grew as he nodded at Leann’s boy across the table from him. “You give your mom hell?”

“Not as much as the shit Ransom gives Keira.” He winced when Leann threw a cucumber peel at his head.

Ransom elbowed his cousin, silently telling him to keep his mouth shut and Kona laughed, relaxed against his chair. “You give Keira problems?”

“No. Well, not anymore.” The boy sipped from his glass. “Last summer there was some shi—” Leann cleared her throat and Ransom waved her off. “Last summer I got talked into a race.” Tristan snorted, a disbelieving sound that had Kona laughing.

Ransom took another drink, finishing off the tea until the melted ice rattled in the bottom of the glass. “Okay, so I don’t like people messing with me.” Head to the side as his gaze moved over Kona and Ransom shifted his chin at his father. “You can’t tell me people didn’t screw with you when you were my age.” He waved between them. “The size? The height?”

“Yep. I got that. Lu…” he winced, catching Keira gaze from behind the kitchen island when he looked up her. Kona felt stupid, awkward with how uneasy he was just uttering his twin’s name. “Luka too. We were always fighting, especially him, because he was tall and fat until he was about ten.” Kona shook his head, blinking away the memory of his brother knocking out a sixth grader who tried telling the whole play ground that the boys were stupid, had to have been held back since they were so much bigger than everyone else. “Anyway, last summer?”

The prompt had Ransom shifting his eyes down, sliding the empty, sweating glass between his hands. “Some big redneck with a Kawasaki Ninja starts talking shit, telling me his 900 can beat my GSXR.”

“Wait,” Kona said, stopping Ransom with a wave of his hand. “You drive a GSXR? How? You’re a kid.”

From the kitchen, Keira cleared her throat, eyes narrowed as she glared at Ransom, motioning with her chin for their son to explain himself.

“Well, technically, I’m not allowed.” A quick shrug and the boy leaned back in his chair, gaze moving around the table as he ignored Kona’s expression. “Mom didn’t know about it last year. Bobby, she, well, I guess you could say she’s my adoptive grandmother, she let me keep it at her house and Mom…”

“Neither one of them told me,” Keira said, leaning against the kitchen island. “And I gave them both hell for it too.”

Ransom glared at his mother, but the expression was quick, easily left his face when Kona cleared his throat. “So this guy?”

“Right. Well, I tried walking away, but this asshole keeps talking smack, him and his boys following me out to the mall parking lot and man, I hate a bully. Especially one that only starts shit when his boys are around.” He looked up at Kona as though he needed his approval; as though Kona’s small nod would make his actions seem reasonable. So Kona gave his boy that nod, urging him with one gesture to continue.

“So I tell this Barney Fife jackass to ease off me and that there was no point arguing over a 900 racing a 950. ‘It’s not the engine, dumbass, it’s the rider,’ I tell him and he and his boys just start laughing at me.” Ransom looked down, voice lowering. “No one laughs at me.”  Leann got up from the table and the boy watched her leave, leaning lower over the table, voice almost at a whisper. “That asshole also bet me two large that he could beat me and there was no way I was gonna pass that up.”

Kona laughed, understanding the logic, remembering what it was like when his mother was tight with her cash and he and Luka would fight with punks eager to prove themselves. He’d made some nice bank in high school teaching lessons to guys half his size.

“So we go to the West End, out to Centennial. It’s late, no one is around and we take the two miles twice and this idiot is all over the place. He had nothing on me, but he keeps on running his mouth the whole time we’re racing, calling me a punk, telling me I’m a stupid jock, and I’m thinking to myself, ‘shit man, whip it out and measure.’”

“Ransom!” Keira shouted from the kitchen and the boy flinched at the sound.

“Sorry, Mom. Anyway, so we take the curve, the redneck flips, wrecks that sweet little Ninja and I beat him by at least two hundred yards. I run to check up on him and the dude is crying. Literally crying like a freakin kid.”

Head in a shake, Kona couldn’t help smiling at his boy, a mix of approval and annoyance made him wonder if he was a bad father for feeling proud. “You won the bet.”

“Lot of good it did him.” Tristan said.

Ransom again jabbed his cousin in the ribs. “Hey. My story, asshole.”

“Luka Ransom Riley watch your mouth.” Kona didn’t buy Keira’s frown or the way she stomped into the dining room with a stack of bowls in her hands. “Marcus is eight years old and he repeats everything you and Tristan say.”

“Hey, his foul mouth isn’t our fault. You’ve heard Leann yell, Mom.”

From the kitchen, Leann threw a dishrag at Ransom’s head and he caught it.

“What happened with the bet?” Kona asked him, sliding his beer out of the way when Keira placed a bowl in front of him.

She stood at his side, hands on her hips and Kona got that she hated the story, that she wasn’t amused by how animated Ransom was retelling it. “There were two State Troopers tailing them the whole time. Our son spent the night in jail.”

“What?”

Keira nodded.

“You didn’t bail him out?”

“Hell no. When the cops called me I agreed with them that our son needed to be taught a lesson.” Ransom looked like he might correct her language, but one lifted eyebrow from his mother shut the boy up immediately. “He was being stupid and he needed to learn consequences.”

“But a whole night in jail?” Kona asked her, looking up at her surprised face. He knew he had no right to question her decision to leave him in jail overnight, but he’d been there himself at sixteen. He hated to think that his boy had repeated Kona’s behavior.

“Kona, Nashville isn’t New Orleans and yeah, a whole night. He got landed with a priest who was pulled over for DWI. The man quoted scripture to him for sixteen hours straight.”

Keira walked off and Kona watched her, then quickly moved his gaze back to his son when Ransom again lowered his voice. “I went the next day and got my damn money though.”

There was a small moment of silence, which was immediately broken when a crash sounded from the patio and Leann told Tristan to check on his little brother.

“You want another Abita?” Ransom asked Kona and he shook his head, his eyes flicking down to the varsity team t-shirt his son wore.

Kona pointed to the shirt, at the Spartan in the center of Ransom’s chest.  “You thinking about college yet? Your mom said you’ve gotten interest from some scouts.”

“Yeah. LSU and Ole Miss, but I’m not focusing on that.” He silenced his phone, moving it to the side to look at Kona. He nodded to Tristan who pushed his little brother into the kitchen before he returned to his seat. “This one is already signed with CPU for basketball. Point guard.”

“Good job, man.” Kona thought the boy look like Leann. Same nose, same mouth, but his coloring was different and he wondered if the tattooer stuck around long enough to get Leann to marry him. “Michael your dad?”

“Who?”

Leann cleared her throat, glared at Kona as she brought silverware to the table. “No. I married Will Bankston. I don’t think you know him, Kona. He graduated from Tulane.”

“Who’s Michael?” Tristan said again, eyeing his mother.

“Someone you will never meet,” she answered, returning to the kitchen.

The doorbell rang and Kona was glad for the distraction, was glad that Tristan jumped from the table to answer it. He wanted a minute with his boy, just to talk to him and figured as long as his cousin was around and the manic activity at the lake house continued, he wouldn’t get that minute. Still, Kona liked how easy, how relaxed Ransom was with his cousins, with Keira.

Not liking the silence, Kona folded his hands together, nodded again at his son. “So you leaning toward Ole Miss or LSU?”

“I don’t know, man. I still have two more years to think about it. Tennessee might be interested, but I don’t know what Mom wants to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s gotta handle all the shit here first. The estate and everything.”

He’d caught the mention of her stepfather’s estate during her phone call, but assumed that her mother’s financials had been settled. Kona frowned, wondering what that would mean for his son. He wondered how long he’d have him here. “I thought she donated everything.”

“Her mom’s estate, yeah, but she still has to take care of the mess her stepfather left.” Kona frowned, confused. “The asshole left so much debt when he died and two illegitimate kids, that there is a hold up on his estate. Cora and Steven had a pre-nup, so one down, one to go.” Ransom shrugged, fiddling with the end of a spoon in the center of the table. “We’re stuck here to the end of the summer.”

Kona didn’t hide his smile, liked that his son mimicked him. He’d have him for the summer. He’d have time even with his training and then an idea came to him and he hoped mentioning it to Ransom didn’t make it seem like he was trying to buy him.

“There’s a combine happening next weekend. It’s at CPU.” Kona shot for subtlety, but he couldn’t seem to calm the excitement in his chest. He wanted the boy to like him. He wanted him to have opportunities and even if they didn’t make up for him missing the first fifteen years of his life, it could at least be a start. “I could probably get you in if you’re interested.”

Ransom dropped the spoon, sat up straighter. “You serious?”

“My buddy Brian is the assistant coach. He owes me a favor.” Another flippant wave, and Kona looked up, saw Keira watching him, eyes squinted, curious. “It’ll at least let you know where you are, give you an idea on what you need to work on.”

“Hell yeah.” Keira came to the table, a large, steaming bowl of chili in her hands and Ransom followed Kona, stood to make room for her as she placed the dish in the center of the table. His son bit his lip, staring at the chili and then he glanced at Kona, as though he’s just realized something. “I’ve been slacking since we’ve been here. The food is too damn good and I…” he stopped talking when Tristan returned to the dining room, followed by three teenage girls. They were pretty, well dressed, but had friendly smiles and they greeted Leann, lingered near the kitchen island. Kona smiled at his son, at the way his gaze shot immediately to a tiny redhead hanging back from her friends, eyes searching the room, looking shy and uncomfortable.

“Um, I’ll be right back,” he told Kona, shooting away from the table to approach the redhead and Kona sat back down, grinning like an idiot as he watched his son introduce himself, as he watched the boy work his magic.  Inside two minutes, the girl was grinning and Kona saw Keira staring at their son, peeking out of the kitchen. He caught her eyes and shook his head at how closely she watched the two kids.

Kona thought she should be worried. His son was too much like him; looked the same, had the same need to prove himself, the same quick temper. But he was kind, gentle and smiled easy, just like Luka. Kona thought, as Ransom led the girl to the table, introduced her to him, that Keira wasn’t the only worried parent in the room. It was funny to him, weird that he could have this much worry, this much pride in a kid he’d just met.

Later, after the Bless Jesus chili had been consumed, Kona’s belly full with Keira’s exceptional handiwork, he watched his son joking around with his friends and Keira and Leann sitting across from them, talking low, relaxed in two cherry wood Adirondack chairs on the patio. The fire pit burned bright, sparks of flame and ash floated above the wood and the lake was slow, calm. Kona nursed another Abita, closed his eyes, loved the touch of the thin breeze on his face and the quiet sounds his boy made on Keira’s guitar.

Ransom had an audience, played a few tunes, songs Kona couldn’t make out before he began a strum that was familiar. “Dark End of the Street.” When Ransom began the intro, Kona moved his head, glanced at Keira to meet her stare. Her smile was thin, loose, and he wondered if she remembered that morning she played the song on the piano. It was the day he’d discovered the hell Keira had lived with in this house.

The longer he stared at her, the clearer the memory became and he blinked, a flash of sensation returning to spark; the perfect recall of the rest of that morning, how they forgot the French toast cooling on their plates; how he’d taken her on the counter, then again in her mother’s bathroom. He hadn’t attempted a visit to the kitchen the entire day for fear that the memory would be too sharp, the sensation too biting.

“Mom, come on, sing for us.” Ransom’s voice carried across the low chatter Leann and Keira made and at his request, she waved him off, but like Kona, his son was stubborn. “Don’t make me pull the birthday card.”

Kona sat up straight, curious, wondering why he hadn’t thought to ask the boy about his birthday. They’d talked about football and his classes and the things they thought he might want to do after college, but they’d glossed over details about his birth and his childhood in Nashville. Kona had thought that might be a conversation for a second or third visit.

“That’s not for another three weeks,” Keira said, her voice soft, lazy. “Too soon.”

Ransom sighed and then his cousin and their friends nagged Keira, offer exaggerated eye bats and pouts.

“Come on, Keira,” Leann said, brushing her foot against Keira’s knee. “Sing something so they’ll shut up.”

Kona watched Keira begrudgingly get up, as she shoved Tristan out of his spot next to Ransom.

“One song,” she told her boy. “And not that one.” A quick glance at Kona and then Keira turned toward Ransom.

“Play Dylan.”

Ransom’s smile grew and he cleared his throat before his fingers worked over the warm sound of the guitar. Keira’s voice was stronger, deeper than the last time Kona heard it and he loved how she’d stopped singing with her eyes downcast. He remembered her with that guitar, playing “Crazy Love” like it was a letter to him; her great, quiet display of how much she loved him. She’d kept her gaze just below his eyes, only managing to look up at him once or twice as she sang.

Kona had thought it was still beautiful and in that moment, all those years ago in the bedroom above them, he’d fallen harder, deeper in love with her.

Now Keira’s alto rolled across the patio, straight into his chest like a warm wave. She was a pro now with a presence she hadn’t had at eighteen and Kona couldn’t make his eyes blink or pull his attention away from her face, from the sultry magic of her voice.

He thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful or heard anything more poetic and then Keira reached the chorus, sings, I’ve known it from the moment we met, and Ransom sings beneath her, voice lower, crisper, a perfect complement to his mother’s whiskey rasp.

It’s that small length of time and melody with his son’s voice echoing Keira’s that Kona decided he couldn’t love anything more. That boy, that woman, he wanted them both. He wanted evenings like this. He wanted every night to be like this. He wanted small chats about stupid mistakes, about girls his boy likes, about football and possibilities his son’s future would bring. He wanted Keira around him, holding him, filling in all the gaps of time that Kona had missed. He looked at them both and realized that this is the family he was meant to have. This was what had been stolen from him, what he threw away without knowing it.

He wanted his family.

Kona was selfish. He didn’t care about the life they’d put on hold in Nashville. He wanted to try, to fight, to start over.

The end notes vibrated and Kona felt them, let them move across his skin and it is Ransom’s smile, the way he slings his arm across his mother’s shoulder that madeKona smile, had his chest swelling with so much emotion that he ducked his head, rubbed his face on his sleeve.

“Do you sing, Kona?”

A quick jerk of his head and Kona waved off his emotion with a laugh. “No, man. I sound like a cat dying when I sing.” He ran his thumbnail over the neck of his bottle and glanced at Keira. “You get your talent from your Mom.”

“And your good looks from your father,” Keira said, eyes immediately round as though she couldn’t believe she’d said that aloud.

“No, sweetheart, that comes from you too. I just gave him a thick head and wide shoulders.”

Ransom laughed and beside him, the young girls sighed as though Kona was something out of a romance novel and not the knuckleheaded asshole who let his woman and son slip through his fingers.

“Play something fun,” Keira told Ransom, breaking the long look she exchanged with Kona. “I’m gonna go pick up the kitchen.” And she was in the house, forcing a smile before anyone could stop her.

Leann’s loud exhale and the scratch of her chair on the patio tiles pulled Kona’s glance to her. “I guess I should help her.”

“Nah, Leann. I got it,” Kona said, darting out of his seat before the woman sat up.

Kona didn’t say anything to Keira when she stopped to look at him, hand gripping a wet bowl over the open dishwasher. He didn’t stare too long at the counter or let himself recall the last time he’d been in this room. Instead he worked at Keira’s side, silently scraping the plates, wiping down the counter and handing her a cup, a pot until the dishwasher is full and the faucet is off.

Hips against the island and a dishrag in his hand, Kona kept his eyes downcast, saw her closing the door and the sound of the quiet machine was the only noise in the kitchen.

“He’s… God, Keira.” Kona folded the rag twice, messing with the worn tag in the corner, unable to look at her. “He’s amazing.” Keira’s feet were in front of him after a moment and Kona stared at her small toes, at the tiny strap of her sandals between them and then he looked up at her when she took the rag out of his hand. “Thank you.” Eyes to her, he knew he looked pathetic but he didn’t care. His thoughts were knotted with hope, with want and all the things he could not say to her. Not just yet. So he didn’t pour out his heart, didn’t beg for her forgiveness, once a day is enough, he thought. “Can I?” he started, grabbing her wrist.

“What?”

Kona didn’t wait for her permission. She was under his chin, against his chest with his arms around her, tightening his grip in seconds. Kona thought she might pull away. He thought she would push at his chest, tell him not to touch her, but then Keira’s fingers tightened around his shirt and he inhaled, bringing back that scent, familiar and characteristically Keira straight into his nostrils. He hugged her, smelled her hair.

“You did amazing, Wildcat. He’s a great kid.” Her fingers tightened, pulled on his shirt and Kona grinned, breath deep before he pushed on her shoulders to look down at her. Her eyes shined, gleamed like the bright reflection on the lake at sunset and Kona moved his thumb across her cheek.

He wanted to tell her he’s missed her, that nothing has felt the same, tasted the same since she left. He wanted to tell her that she cursed him that day at the jail. He wanted to say “I need you” and “Have me again,” but this day wasn’t for them. It was about the boy, their bright, beautiful son. “That’s all you.” Not for the first time today, Kona’s chest tightened, but it’s Keira’s look, the relief in her expression, the breath she must have been holding all day, maybe for years, that brought that warmth to his heart. A small kiss on her forehead and Kona returned his gaze at those shinning, bright eyes.  “Only God could be prouder of his son.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

KEIRA

THE LAST TIME Keira sat in those bleachers, she was sick, working up to a flu and Luka told her love made her stupid.

Now her son ran around the field, right alongside hundreds of other players, sprinting a 40-yard dash, pushing his body beyond its limits. Keira could tell he was making attempts, trying like hell to impress his father. She didn’t blame him. Ransom always excelled, she guessed, because he wanted to draw attention to himself, maybe subconsciously prove that he was worthy of love.

He didn’t need to lift a finger to do that. Not with her and not now with Kona.

The big Hawaiian watched their son on the side lines, a smile broadening his mouth as he chatted with Brian, his old football buddy, now assistant coach of the CPU team.

Keira didn’t feel comfortable there. The campus and its memories were like a bruise to her, something that had faded but still ached if she brushed too close. But Kona had insisted, made Keira promise to cheer Ransom right along with him. It wasn’t hard. She’d been cheering her son in everything he’d attempted over the years.

Except that damn race.

When the boy beat the clock ahead of two larger, stronger players, Kona shouted, brimming with pride and Keira snorted, rolled her eyes at his excitement.

He’d been doing that a lot; every time Ransom played a particularly complicated chord on the piano or guitar, every time he tackled Kona as they practiced, the man’s excitement was palpable.

Often, Ransom had told her, Kona offered him rewards—new clothes, expensive shoes, a tour of the Steamer’s stadium and, last week, Kona announced he wanted to throw Ransom a big sixteenth birthday party.

“I don’t need all that, Mom. What do I tell him?” Ransom had asked and Keira sympathized with him. But she knew Kona. He’d be disappointed if Ransom turned down the opportunity for Kona to spoil him a little and when she mentioned that to Ransom, the boy stopped complaining about his father’s plans.

“He’s just excited to be around you, son. He’s making up for lost time.”

On the field, a whistle blew, signaling a break and Ransom looked up at her, offered her a quick wave before he fell to the ground, exhausted, excited, with a huge grin on his face.

Kona noticed the move, said something in Brian’s ear, then ran up the steps to sit next to her in the stands.

“He’s great.” Elbows on his knees, Kona focused below them, to the players, to their son as he downs a bottle of water. “Seriously, two more years with him improving and he can write his own ticket.”

She noticed the way he bobs his head, as though he was planning, scheming, what their son could accomplish, what would be available to him with a little bit of hard work.

“Have you talked to him about that?”

He looked down at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Have you talked to Ransom about what he wants to study? Where he wants to apply to?”

Kona turned his attention back to the field as the players lined up for drills. “Business, he said.” Kona stretched back, slinked down into the seat. “CPU has a great Business department. I think Professor Walker is still the Dean, but I’m not sure. It’s what my degree is in.”

“Yes. Business. That’s what it is this month.”

“What?”

Keira smiled, sitting up straight in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. “Kona, he’s almost sixteen. Last year he wanted to go into the military.” His mouth dropped open, eyes big and shocked. “Three months ago he was determined to go to LSU because of their Communications program and when he was eight, he wanted to be Thor.” Kona’s frown is deepened and she almost felt bad for him, for the disappointment she saw paling his dark complexion. “He’s a kid, Kona. He has a lot of grand ideas, but Ransom has no clue who he is or who he wants to be.” When he continued to frown, rubbed the back of his neck, Keira sighed. “One thing that hasn’t changed though is how much he loves to play. Don’t worry about that. Wherever he goes, he’ll be on someone’s defensive line.”

Kona’s eyebrows moved up and his smirk was deep, exaggerated the cleft in his chin. “You know positions now?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Keira watched Ransom’s move on the field, that focused, steady stare he narrowed as he tackled a kid twice his side. “My son has been playing football since his was big enough to carry the weight of peewee shoulder pads. I’ve had to learn.”

When he wasn’t practicing with the Steamers, Kona had spent nearly all his time with Ransom. Keira didn’t mind, she was still dealing with lawyers, lagging estate issues and trying to fit some writing in for the deadline waiting for her back home.

They hadn’t spoken much and when they did, it was always about Ransom, about his party or if it was okay with Keira that Kona take him for a weekend. She’d been reluctant about that one, but their time together was important. They needed that time before the end of the summer when she would take her son back to Nashville. But she had caught Kona staring at her, sometimes just in a glance, sometimes a long stare when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Kona conflicted her, confused her with the clash of his focus on Ransom and those heavy stares that she didn’t understand. Stares like the one he was giving her now.

Eyes shifting to the right, Keira cocked up a brow. “What?”

He moved his head, a brief shake before he returned his attention to the field. “I never got to tell you, but I’m sorry about your mom.”

Her laugh was small, bitter. “You hated my mom.”

Kona shrugged, couldn’t seem to help the smile of agreement. “So did you.”

Ransom moved faster, stride wider down the field and a flash of wind shot in front of them as ten players whipped past the bleachers, setting a chill over Keira’s skin. In her peripheral she noticed Kona laughing to himself, shaking his head.

“What now?”

“Nothing changes, not really.”

“Oh things change alright.”

“That’s true enough. But you getting cold in seventy-degree weather? Still the same.” He moved closer, pulled his arm around her shoulder like him touching her was natural, normal.

The scent of his cologne drifted from his skin, that delicious tang that never failed to make her heart pound like a machine.

She guessed he was right. “People don’t change. Things do.” She felt him watching her; the dip of his chin, the way his hot breath skated down her cheek, but she wouldn’t look at him. That kindling needed to remain in its ember state. It scared her, the return of the blaze; that mad, desperate fire they were together. She moved away from him, but gave him a smile so he didn’t think her rude.

“You’re not a coward.”

“What?”

A small lean, a whisper against the shell of her ear and Kona’s voice was deep, drugging. “I was just trying to keep you warm. I wasn’t trying to move in on you.”

“I know.”

“Liar.” Then he sat back, set his elbow on the armrest right next to Keira’s hand. She watched him. There wasn’t a smile on her face and the scrutiny had him running his fingers over his forehead, down his high cheekbones. “You scared of me, Wildcat?”

She laughed. “No. I always knew Samson wasn’t a monster.” She looked away, returned to watching Ransom move around the field. “A bastard sometimes. A jealous prick, but not a monster.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t deny it. She was just as insane as he had been. The it factor again, seeping in to destroy them, to enable them to destroy everything good that they were. “We were kids. We were pathetic, wild kids.”

“We were in love.”

Kona’s expression was light, but in the quick glance he gave her, Keira saw a fire, a determined confidence that told her he remembered the past differently.

“You think that’s what it was? Love?”

His face lost all semblance of calm. He frowned, his forehead wrinkled and a small part of Keira felt an instant wave of guilt. Had she devastated him? Had she shattered all he remembered about them?

“You don’t?”

Mouth opening, words stuck in her throat, Keira couldn’t watch him, not that intense stare or the slow dip of his eyes when they landed on her mouth. “I think we were bad for each other. I think we were stupid for thinking that passion and insanity and jealousy had anything to do with love.” She looked at the vestiges of his shock, how they were replaced with annoyance, perhaps a dab of anger. “We always fought. Always.”

Kona was silent, staring at her, jaw working, but then he nodded and his grin returned. “We were always pissing each other off, true enough.”

“You had too many groupies.” She couldn’t help the little dig at him, loved the way that grin transformed into an outright smile.

“You were always trying to break up with me.”

She laughed. “I had a temper and you loved pissing me off.”

“Fine. We were insane.” Again he moved closer to her and she felt warmer. “But not all that was bad. Not all that fire was bad.” He moved her hair off her shoulder and she wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t ask. “I thought it was love. I thought I’d die from how much I loved you.” When she refused to return his heavy gaze, he took her pinky and moved her hand onto his knee, running his thumb over her knuckles. The gesture was simple, subtle but it poured a lot of unexpected, forgotten sensation into Keira’s heart. Kona leaned forward, squeezing that pinky. “It was love to me.”

“You have a selective memory.”

“Why do you think that?”

She pulled her hand from his leg. “You don’t remember how many scratches and bruises I gave you? Or how many times maintenance had to patch the drywall in my dorm because you’d gotten pissed at me for one thing or another and punched the wall? You don’t remember the bottle in my hand outside of Lucy’s?”

“Oh I remember. Still have the scar.”

“Exactly.” Keira curled her arms together, tightened them over her chest. “That’s not healthy. That just wasn’t healthy.”

“Maybe not, but I remember a few other things too.” For a moment, Ransom was forgotten. Kona shifted around to face her, leaning on his elbow, gaze catching hers, making her still. “I remember you staying with me at the hospital when my grandfather had his heart attack, even while my mom made it clear she didn't want you there.” He moved closer still, pulled her arms loose so he could rub the inside of her wrist. “I remember you being the only one who told me I wasn’t pathetic. No one ever loved me like you did; unconditional, unwavering. You never set limits. Not once.”

Keira knew he was right. She knew that amid all that insanity, that crazy, dangerous passion, there was real love. They were unhinged. They were volatile, obsessed, but all of that desire came from what they felt for each other.

Still, age, maturity told her passion didn’t mean healthy. It didn’t mean that something so wild and manic could be normal. “That was the problem. No limits. Having no limits meant I was reckless. We were both reckless. It’s how we got him.” She nodded toward Ransom doing laps on the field and Kona turned away from her as they both watched their boy.

“You sorry about that?” he said, eyes still on their son.

She didn’t hesitate to answer him. “Not for one second.”

“And neither am I.”

***

It was the cymbals that stopped her breath.

Three small taps that broke across the crowd of well-wishers—Kona’s friends, kids Ransom had befriended from Leann’s neighborhood over the years—that hummed a soft, sweet melody straight into Keira’s heart. She knew this song. So did Kona and it took only the small movement of her gaze, weaving around dancing bodies, right to his dark eyes for Keira to understand he recognized it too.

He didn’t watch her, not immediately. Body relaxed against his chair and that wide, long arm outstretched on the table as he moved his glass of scotch between his fingers, Kona’s expression was blank, perhaps bored for the three long breaths Keira couldn’t seem to release.

And then, a twist of his bottom lip and his eyes flicked right to hers.

She knew he remembered it—the song, that night, them alone in her too pink bedroom.

Above her, the lights of the ballroom dimmed, the party slowed to welcome the heat of dancing bodies and the soft seduction Dave Matthews whispered out from the speakers. But Keira only half noticed how dark the room became, how thick the air grew. Kona’s gaze was heated, leveled at her like a kiss across her skin and Keira couldn’t take it; not the rush of memory or how the man sitting across this ballroom seemed to remember what this song, what that night, had meant to her. How it had changed them both. Keira stood, backed away from the table in search of lighter air and freedom from the look Kona gave her.

She needed a reprieve from him, from that song that shot flashes of memory heavy in her mind. She still saw it all so clearly, felt his large hands on her naked thighs, the way his teeth raked across her collarbone. How he cupped her, teased her, how wide he felt inside of her.

Keira suppressed the shudder that chilled her skin and she slipped through the crowd, finding the quiet of the city below her on the balcony. New Orleans shined in front of her—slow activity of blinking headlights, the low, almost unrecognizable refrain of a trumpet in the distance and for a moment she closed her eyes, focused on that horn, hoping it would vanquish the flash of overwhelming memory.

Behind her, the opulent party continued. Ransom seemed happy, drunk on the attention, on the praise Kona had given him all night, the introduction to players he’d long admired. She was happy for her boy, overwhelmed that he was now sixteen. But the night, the crowd, her laughing, dancing son was momentarily forgotten as that endless song persisted, taunted her. She moved away from the glass doors, to an empty table hidden next to an alcove, hoping she’d go unnoticed.

She didn’t know why she was still there. New Orleans wasn’t home anymore. Her stepfather’s estate could be settled over the phone, through emails and faxes. If she went back to Tennessee, there would be no complications. No former college sweethearts who wrecked her life. No hints of him wanting back in to see how much more damage he could do to her.

He hadn’t forgotten. There had been too many lingering stares shot in her direction, too many times he saw fit to touch her arm, direct her into a room with his hand on the small of her back.

She knew what he wanted, but the idea of reliving the past was too much, too confining.

Hands shaking, Keira pulled a half smoked joint from her clutch, hurrying to catch a small hit that would numb her to Kona’s stare and those hopeful little hints he’d been giving her for the past three weeks.

One hit, then another, and Keira could feel the tension leave her, if only for a second.

“That’s bad for you.”

She closed her eyes, cursing herself, cursing that song and the memory she knew pulled him out there.

Keira hesitated, tried not to notice yet again how much larger he is; how that massive twenty-year-old she loved so helplessly had somehow managed to grow bigger, more imposing.

She managed a look, brief and flippant, over her shoulder and blotted out his large shoulders, his defined chest, how thick and delicious his cologne smelled on the night breeze.

“I have a habit of picking up things that are bad for me.” She didn’t like how easily he chuckled, or how close he stood next to her. “Besides, this is only an occasional indulgence.” Kona’s attention moved behind him, to the glass doors before he reached for the joint. “Hypocrite,” she said when he took a long drag.

“Occasional, Wildcat, like you.”

Keira didn’t watch him too closely, didn’t want to be consumed by his thick lips pinching on the joint or the wide veins on the top of his hand as he held it. Instead, she looked at the waiter who stepped outside to collect a few empty glasses. From the open door that never-ending song blasted out like a feather touch; teasing, reminding.

Their eyes met.

“I never hate hearing this song,” he said, moving closer to pass back the joint.

She thought, at first, she’d play dumb, but he knew her tells, was a master at recognizing when she was lying. It was pointless to act like she didn’t remember. How could she not? He’d taken her on her pink sheets. The collection of stuffed animals she’d long ignored, fell from her plush covers with every movement of their bodies as this song played on repeat.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Wildcat?” Kona watched her lips circle the blunt as she inhaled, her tongue flicking out to wet her dry mouth.

“No, I haven’t.” She looked at him, hoped he didn’t notice the heat she felt warming her neck, across her face as he stared at her. “How could I forget?”

He took the joint when she offered it and their fingers touched, then joined when he threw it on the ground so he could grab her hand, move her to the brick wall, then back her in between his massive arms resting on either side of her head.

“You wore a Black Crowes t-shirt and nothing else.” He shifted his fingers through her hair, pushed a few strands off her forehead. “I remember your hair was wet.” Kona twisted a curl between his fingers.

Then Keira was shaking, swallowing hard when he abandoned her hair completely and ran his fingers over the thin strap of her dress. “You weren’t supposed to be there,” she said, hypnotized by how good his fingertips feel against her shoulder, across her chest. “I had a shower because the heater broke. It was so…so hot in that room.”

“It got hotter.” There was a quiver moving his lips and she couldn’t tell if he was fighting a smile or frown. “Sweet like candy…” he said, moving too close for breath, for control.

Every detail was seared into her mind and the heavy timbre of his voice, the gentle fingering of her skin with his calloused hand only heightened the memory.

He smelled the same, felt the same.

The embers threatened to blaze.

“You felt so good, so tight around me, Wildcat.”

Oh God.

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let the memory take over. But his fingers lowered, moved down her arms, his enormous chest came forward and she released a soft mew of surprise when his thick thighs rubbed against her legs. He was so close that she could do nothing but raise her eyes.

“Dirty little rascal…remember that, beautiful?”

“I…I do.”

She didn’t stop him when he kissed her. She let herself take in the heat of his massive body, let it work over her skin. She inhaled him—his scent, the hot rub of his tongue against hers, along her bottom lip. At first, she thought she wouldn’t react; that she’d push back the sensation, ignore how sweet he tasted, how hard he felt against her. But then he held her arms, leaned into her until her back rested fully against the brick wall behind her and Keira was lost.

Kona still made low groans in his throat when he kissed her; still had the softest lips, the most demanding, wide tongue. She couldn’t help herself. He was an addiction, her favorite drug. She wanted a hit. She wanted a million hits of him.

She worked her hands up his arms, his immense shoulders and his groaning deepened, became a growl of pleasure when she returned his attentions. Their mouths weren’t frantic, but they did match each other. He pushed, she pulled, like always, like habit, and it was a delicious drugging dance; one she didn’t know she’d missed so much.

She felt the swift lick of disappointment when Kona pulled back, but it disappeared with his fingers holding her face and the tips smoothing just over her cheekbones.

“My dirty little rascal,” he said, but he didn’t return her smile, seemed struck by how close they were standing, how easy this had been, to fall back into old habits. It was returning…their reactions to one another were primal, instinctual.

Un-fucking-avoidable.

The song ended, but Kona hadn’t stopped examining her face. His breath was still hot and panting over her cheeks. It would be easy, so fucking easy, to let him consume her.

Kona leaned in again, somehow moving closer, another hit that would edge her toward overdose and she stopped him. The rational part of Keira’s mind pushed back the sensation of his touch and the embers were extinguished.

“Wait.”

He paused, but didn’t move away from her, didn’t move his fingers from her skin. “Wildcat, come on.”

“What are we doing?” Keira knew that expression. It hadn’t changed in sixteen years. Kona’s face was calm, but he frowned, forehead wrinkling in his agitation and Keira stopped another attempt of his lips against her mouth. She pushed him back, palm flat against that tempting chest. “How’d this happen?”

Kona’s shoulders sagged and finally, her skin was free of his touch.

“Memory lane,” he said.

“That’s a dangerous place.”

“If you say so.”

“I can’t do this with you.” She took a breath. “I can’t ever do this with you again.”

“Why the hell not?” His anger wasn’t quick, not the instant snap of frustration she’d always known from him, but there is no humor on his face and despite her small rejection, he hadn’t moved his arms from the brick behind her.

“I told you. We were not good together. I can’t…” Another slow breath and Keira tried to calm, to ignore the heavy scent of his skin filling her senses. “I won’t be that girl again.”

Too easy, she thought, reminding herself how effortlessly Kona consumed her. Moth to flame, eager to die in the fire. She hated who she was with him, most days. She hated that she forgot good sense, any smidgeon of reason when he was around her. She didn’t like who she’d been back then and it was that girl, that unbalanced, obsessed girl, that Keira had been running from all these years. She wouldn’t let that girl return, not now, not even for Kona.

When she slipped out of the cage of his impossibly large arms, Kona reacted, old habits surfacing. He grabbed her and for a quick second, Keira felt her teenage self return. His fingers were hot on her bicep, licking heat, anger, passion, through her limbs and Keira feared the sensation, hated that she loved it so much, that she’d missed it more than she wanted to admit.

Just like that, she was ready to react, to fight and it took all Keira’s strength to repress that inclination. “Don’t…” And at her small warning, Kona jerked back, hands up as though she burned him. “You see what I mean? Barely a month and we’re flirting with past behavior.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keira thought he might be telling the truth. He fanned his fingers through his hair, eyes rounded as though he couldn’t believe how he’d reacted. “Please,” Kona said, taking a tentative step forward, voice easy, calm. “Don’t leave.”

She didn’t want to see that expression on his face; the one that told her he was different, that his overwhelming presence was no longer dangerous. He’d fooled her once. He wouldn’t get a second chance. A quick shake of her head and Keira turned away from him, tried to focus on a plane above shooting away from the city, wishing she was on it.

Kona’s breath warmed her neck and Keira cringed at how much she’d missed this—him, her, the heat, the passion and it is like refusing the best high she’s ever had. “If I don’t walk away right now, I’m going to kiss you again,” she whispered.

“I want your kisses. All of them.” Kona’s low voice was heady, firm and Keira had to tighten her eyes closed when his fingertip slid down her spine, between her thick curls.

“I can’t. We…no, we can’t.”

“You’re scared,” he said, mouth hot against her neck.

“I’m petrified.” Despite herself, Keira leaned back, let Kona wrap his hands around her waist. She failed at trying to convince herself she hated the weight of his large hand against her stomach. “I buried this shit. I left and didn’t want to look back. Your…memory, your touch…your…tattoo, I got rid of it all.”

Kona sighed, his grip on her waist tightened, but when he spoke, his voice was low, even. “I would never hurt you. You know I’d never touch you, not like that.”

No, he never had. Not once. She’d slapped him and punched him because she was angry, because they were twisted, because they both got off on it. But Kona had never returned the favor. His wounds ran deeper, cut wider.

“You’re no good for me. You were never good for me.” Keira turned, took a step back so she could look at his face, so she can see how determined he was to change her mind. “I was a crazy person with you. Obsessed. I can’t relive the past.”

“I’m not the same person.” Kona pulled her forward, gripping her waist in his too large hands until their bodies were flush, until Keira could feel the hard, delicious planes of his chest and the corded muscles underneath his pants. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She knew he wouldn’t let her go.

Kona took her face again, moving her chin so she was forced to look at him. “You’re not the same, Wildcat and that was a long time ago.”

And then Keira let that girl sneak to the surface. She let her take Kona’s mouth, pull his shirt so that her tongue licked against a wide expanse of tempting, copper skin. She let that girl enjoy Kona’s mouth, his hands, how hard, demanding he felt against her, until the night darkened, deepened and her rejection, though halfhearted, came again.

Kona stopped pushing, stopped demanding and before he left Keira out on that balcony, he reminded her why she’d loved him in the first place. He reminded her why she should love him again.

“I only know one thing—no one sets my skin on fire like you do. No one. Not one person has ever made me feel like I’m alive like you. That hasn’t changed, not in sixteen years. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t the same for you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

KONA

HE WAS nervous about Keira seeing his home. It was a large, white Greek Revival, gated with a tall, ornate wrought iron fence and a row of massive oak trees that hide the front of the house from the street. The place was too big for him. Kona only bought it to avoid the memories of his brother, his grandfather, that came to him every time he stepped foot in his mother’s home when he visited.

Keira walked around his living room, eyes wide, taking in the lavish décor that Kona had paid a decorator he’d never met to set up. There were no pictures of his family or friends in the home, but his mother had placed several green plants and bouquets of fresh flowers there when he first returned to the city.

Ransom followed Kona into the large kitchen, his arms full of their Italian take out and the boy set the dishes on the dine-in table set in the breakfast nook that led into a screened-in porch. His son was already at home here, already familiar with the layout, where Kona stored his plates and glasses, and the thought made him smile, made him happy. The mess his son had left in his kitchen the past two days, though, did not.

“Mom, do you want to eat now?” he called to his mother and Keira nodded, joined them at the kitchen island, taking in the tall white cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

“This is nice, Kona.”

“Aside from our son’s dirty plates?” Keira smiled, shook her head at Ransom when he shrugged. “Thanks. I had nothing to do with it.” Kona handed her a glass of Chianti and they all settled down for a helping of thick red gravy and thin, buttery spaghetti noodles.

“The carbs, man,” Ransom said, stuffing his face with garlic bread still warm from the aluminum wrapping. “There is no way anyone can stay away from them in this city.”

“Why do you think there are so many walking tours? You have to burn off everything you eat here, sweetie.” Keira said, slipping a slice of garlic bread in her mouth and Kona stared too long at her mouth, at her tongue licking across her lips.

They’d spent the day walking down memory lane again, despite Keira’s protests. He’d told her a few days before that he was considering a position at CPU. Brian had given him the word and Kona thought about it, wanted to see what the university had to offer him. He loved what the Steamers were doing with their team. He loved the city, how the coaches and owners ran their program, but, he was getting a little too old for the NFL and he knew what another two-year contract would mean for him; that he might not play every game, that he’d spend more time on the road, most of his days in New Orleans, away from Ransom and Keira.

The thought of them in Nashville made an uneasy pinch burn in his gut. They hadn’t discussed what would happen at the end of the summer, but Kona knew a goodbye was coming soon. He didn’t want that and so he convinced Keira to take Ransom to CPU, to tour the campus he didn’t get to see during the combine.

They’d visited the library—explained to Ransom about their first meeting there, the team house and the buildings where they’d taken their classes that first year together. Kona had noticed how quiet Keira had been, but when he’d begun to ask her about it, she dismissed him, started to recount how she’d purposefully gotten details about Kona’s game wrong just to piss him off.

“You did that?” he’d asked her, surprised.

“Of course I did. I just wanted your full attention.”

“Sweetheart, my attention was always yours.”

She still had it, especially since the night of Ransom’s party. But Kona hadn’t had the chance to talk to Keira about that kiss or if it had meant anything to her at all. He knew she was wary, still scared, maybe convinced Kona would let his mother screw with their lives again, but he’d ignored the constant phone calls from his mother, was determined that she wouldn’t get in the way of what he wanted with Keira and his son.

Kona blinked, pulled his thoughts from that kiss, from Keira’s fear and back to his son sitting at his side. “So, what did you think?” Kona asked Ransom between bites of his spaghetti. Across the table, Keira looked at him, smiling behind her wineglass.

“It’s nice.” Ransom sopped up the sauce with a thick slice of bread and finished chewing before he continued. “I like the facilities and how small the campus is.” His son glanced to his mother and the look they share had Kona curious. “It’s funny, though, how keyed up your boy Brian was about me maybe going there.” Ransom sat back, set his napkin down on the table and when he again looked at Keira, Kona knew there was something he was missing in the conversation. “The thing is, I don’t want to walk in anybody’s shadow.”

“What do you mean?” Kona forgot his meal, pushed his plate further on the table to focus on his son.

Ransom shrugged, released a slow sigh as though he wasn’t eager to explain himself. “I stopped doing music camp when I was ten because all anyone there wanted to know about was Mom.” Ransom was not annoyed, didn’t have an attitude; Kona got that this was him trying to deliver bad news. By the expression on Keira’s face—that barely hinted smile and the way she sipped from her glass, Kona knew this was something she’d heard before. His son leaned on the table, twisting the napkin between his fingers.

“Back home, industry people are a small circle. Everybody knows everybody else and that’s even more the case with their kids. So I’d go to this camp up in Gatlinburg every summer hoping to learn new chords, or how to write a better song and all anyone wanted to know was who my mom was writing for or what she was working on.” He shrugged again as though the memory didn’t bother him. “There was even one kid who tried slipping me a card so I’d give it to her. Turns out his dad put him up to it because he wanted to work with her.”

“CPU is a little different,” Kona said, not liking where the conversation was heading. When Ransom nodded, but didn’t say anything else, Kona tapped his hand. “Say what’s in your head. I can take it.”

Ransom considered him, eyelids lowering before he smiled. “I spent the afternoon with Brian, with him showing me the facilities, promising me things like scholarships and first choice at the team house and it was cool. I’d like to be here, especially if you end up sticking around, though I’d be a little worried about Mom being five hundred miles away. But it’s been less than a month and already Kona Hale’s son is getting treated like a rich kid.” When Kona started to protest, Ransom waved him off. “I’m not bitching and I don’t think anyone is doing it on purpose, but man, I don’t wanna get into a school that only wants me because I’m your kid. It wouldn’t seem like much of an accomplishment to me.”

Kona was surprised by Ransom’s admission, by the honest way he let Kona down and didn’t make him feel shitty about it. A quick glance at Keira and Kona smiled. “He really isn’t a normal kid.”

“I told you,” she said.

“Hey,” Ransom said, looking between Keira and Kona. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His son was a good person. His son was exceptional and Kona didn’t understand how the boy couldn’t see that for himself. He sat back, head shaking as he watched Ransom’s gaze move from Kona’s smile to Keira trying to conceal hers with the wineglass. “You know how many entitled brats I’ve been around?” The number staggered Kona. Snotty little shits who had no clue what is was to hunger, to want. “Hundreds. Player’s kids, owner’s kids, hell, even the ref’s kids act like the world owes them something. Not one them have your skills or your talent, son, and every single one of those little shits still expects to get into Ivy League colleges or onto teams that wouldn’t normally look at them. And that’s just the ones who actually want to do something other than live off the coattails of what their parents did.”

Ransom’s face relaxed and he looked down at the table, that Luka half-grin of his warming Kona’s chest. “The fact that you’d walk away from a camp that you liked or won’t be handed something just because of who your parents are says a lot about who you are, Ransom.” His boy waved him off and Kona was surprised to see that same quick blush Keira never could hide moving up his son’s face. “Even if I end up there, coaching, whatever happens, you’ll still have to do the work. You’ll have to train harder, work harder than anyone else. I’m sorry that it’s the way it is. I’m sorry that people are going to treat you differently, but those are just the assholes that don’t know you.” Kona leaned across the table, grazed Ransom’s arm so the boy would look at him. “Anyone that meets you, takes the time to find out who you are, will see that you don’t expect a free ride. They’ll know what an exceptional kid you are and they’ll respect you.” Kona paused, lowered his voice. “God knows I do.”

“Damn, Kona, don’t get all soft on me.” Ransom laughed, slapping his shoulder. “Your shadow is huge, man, but I’m happy to walk in it.”

Kona took Ransom by the back of the neck, pulling him close. It was’nt quite a hug, but a little touch of expression that he hoped told Ransom he loved him. “Buddy, my shadow will be nothing to the one that follows you. I have zero doubts.”

To his left, Kona heard Keira sniffle and both he and Ransom turned toward her, eyes wide as they saw the tears leaking from her eyes. And then, just like that, the awkwardness passed as Ransom and Kona both laughed at her.

“Oh shut up.” She got up from the table, threw her napkin at them before she brought her half eaten plate to the sink. “You’re both assholes.”

“Come on, Mom, don’t get pissy.” Ransom left the table and stood behind Keira, kissing the top of her head. “You are such a girl sometimes.” He ducked away from Keira’s elbow and pulled his phone out of his pocket when his text alert chimes. “Oh shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Keira grabbed a dish rag from the counter to dry her hands and looked up at Ransom as Kona cleared the table.

“Um, nothing.” He looked again between his parents and Kona recognized the smirk. He’d noticed his son giving Keira that look over the past few weeks when he tried to butter her up. But he’d never given it to Kona. Not until this moment. “Hey, man, you think I can check out a little early? I mean, I know you wanted us to watch that movie and everything…”

“It’s cool. I’ve got that meeting in the morning, so I wasn’t planning on staying up too late anyway.” Kona nodded to his phone. “What’s up?”

“Emily has an extra ticket to Jazz Fest. They’re on the way to see Frank Ocean.”

“The redhead?” Kona smiled at the way Ransom tried not to bounced on his feet. She was a pretty girl. He wasn’t surprised by his son’s poorly-contained excitement.

“When did this happen?” Keira asked, leaning against the sink. “I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. I mean…sorta.” His attention returned to his phone when another message sounded and the smile on his son’s face became ridiculous. “So, can I go? They’re gonna pick me up in like ten minutes.”

“Ransom, you don’t know the city.” Keira got a strange wrinkle between her eyes and Kona blinked at her. He’d never seen her look at their son that way. “Emily is a nice girl but I don’t anything about her or who you’ll be with.”

“Mom…”

“Come on, the boy’s sixteen and it’s not late.” Kona tried to keep his voice light, easy. He didn’t know if he was overstepping his bounds with her, but, he figured, Ransom is his kid too. He should have a say in what he does. “He’ll be back soon enough and then you can head back to Mandeville when the concert’s over, Wildcat.”

“Would stop calling me that?” she said, head turning in his direction.

“Sixteen years, sweetheart and you’re still asking? You know I won’t.” Kona failed at keeping the laugh out of his tone. This was Keira deflecting, Keira trying to distract the attention so she’d win an argument. Some things never change. Kona rolled his eyes, touched her arm to make her look at him, generally curious where all this worry is coming from. “What’s the problem? He’s a good kid and I’m sure he’s not gonna get mixed up in something stupid. Besides, you can’t tell me he hasn’t been to a concert before, not with the industry you work in.”

“That’s not the point. New Orleans isn’t Nashville.”

“Please.” Another small laugh and Kona reclined against the island, staring down at her. “You know what I was doing at sixteen in this city?”

“Someone cheap and tarty, I’m sure.”

Ouch. Not completely wrong, but that was still below the belt. Kona shut up, not eager to piss her off, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from glaring at her.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’ll tell her I can’t go.” Ransom didn’t pretend to hide his disappointment and Kona hated that the kid’s voice went soft, that he immediately moved his thumb across his phone, likely telling his girl he couldn’t see her. “We’ll go back to Mandeville after we watch the movie. That okay?”

When he walked away, not waiting for answer, Kona widened his eyes at Keira, motions toward the sad slump of Ransom’s shoulders.

She watched him for a second, then slapped at Kona’s touch when he tried pushing her toward Ransom. “No, that’s okay, son. You go. I’ll wait for you here so they won’t have to drive all the way out to Mandeville.”

“You sure?” he said, turning on his heel.

“Yeah. It’s fine, just be careful and please text me when you get there.” Kona cleared his throat. Keira sighed, but didn’t fuss at Kona. “Well at least text me when you’re on the way back, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.” That sad attitude vanished as Ransom sent his text, then kissed Keira on the cheek. She waved him off and returned to the sink, attacking the mess Ransom had made in Kona’s kitchen when the boy caught Kona’s eye. His kid was not remotely subtle, gave Kona a nod, then another that he directed toward Keira.

He’d asked Kona a week or so before what he thought his chances were at getting Keira back. The kid was curious; kept asking, kept hinting that he caught the vibe between them and more than once Ransom had caught Kona staring at Keira. His boy wasn’t stupid. He knew what Kona wanted so for the past few days Ransom had been pushing Kona to make a move. He didn’t have the heart to tell his son he’d tried already, at his party. Kona didn’t think Ransom would be cool with him groping his mom outside on that balcony.

Another nod at Kona and a silent whisper of “I’m so not coming back,” then Ransom backed away, eyebrows waggling. “You two kids behave now. First time without a chaperone in while, right?”

Keira’s shoulders stiffened and Kona jerked his fist up at his son, a mock threat that Ransom found funny. “Boy, leave before I smack you.”

The click of the door sounded across Kona’s large house, the noise making Keira look over her shoulder. Kona stood next to her, reached for a cup to put in the dishwasher, but she stopped him with her hand on his wrist. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“You’re my guest, Wildcat. I can’t let you do that.”

“And you bought us breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, I taught Ransom better than this.” She waved to the collection of plates on the counter. “You have to let me do something.” She removed her hand and shoved him back toward the table. “I need something to distract me.”

Keira’s shoulders hadn’t relaxed and as Kona watched her from his spot at the table, he realized that it was more than Ransom leaving with a girl that had her worried. “You really scared about him being in the city?”

She gave him a half shrug. “He’ll be okay. I know he can take care of himself.” She looked out the window above the sink, eyes unfocused for a moment before her attention was back on the silverware in her hand. “He’s been running high for weeks. That’s because of you.” Her smile was soft, real, when she glanced at him. “But I’m worried that something will set him off. End of the summer when we go back, him having to say goodbye to Tristan or this Emily girl. Or you. I’m worried that he’ll have another episode.”

Kona got up from the table, fingers itching to touch her, tell her it would be okay. “He’s not medicated?”

“No. He hates what the doctors had him on. Said it killed all his motivation.” The muscles around Keira’s eyes tightened and her gaze slipped to Kona for a moment, as though she expected him to lecture her, tell her she was a bad mother. “We handle it with diet, with exertion, that’s why he runs so much and then the same things you and I both had to learn—the counting, the breathing. But he’s much worse than either of us were, Kona. Calming him takes a lot of effort.”

“You mentioned something about the piano.”

She nodded, reached for another cup. “I started that when he was eight. Some little jackass pushed him out of line at school and Ransom broke the kid’s nose. Got suspended and I brought him home, sat him down in front of the piano. I made him stay there and play until he was calm and it just sort of worked. If his attention is distracted and he’s moving, even if it’s just his fingers, then he’s not as angry.”

Kona stepped behind her, needing to touch her, to let her know he would never judge how she raised their son. Keira dropped the cup in her wet hands, back straightening even further as he circled her waist with his hands on the counter at her hips. “You’re a great mother, Wildcat. He loves you, I can see that and he respects you.” Kona rested his chin on the top of her head and couldn’t help the quick inhale, the scent of her hair that hadn’t changed. “I’m proud of you and I’m so thankful that he had you.”

His praise seemed to relax Keira. The straight bearing in her shoulders, her back, eased and Kona could feel the tension leaving her body. “I didn’t have a choice and I knew what kind of mother I didn’t want to be.” She shrugged but he could feel a small tremble working in her arms. “I just did the opposite of what my mother had done to me.”

He moved the hair off her shoulder thinking about how strong she’d been, how it killed him that he wasn’t there to help her. He’d missed so much and right then Kona promised himself he’d never let her struggle on her own again. He would be there, hopefully at her side. She looked up over her shoulder, gaze catching and then quickly turned back around. “What are you doing?”

The day hadn’t been just a stroll into the past. Kona had watched Keira, saw how she’d returned his stares, the way she didn’t bat his hand away when he led her into a room or opened doors for her. She had eased since the night of the party, didn’t seem so opposed to his attention and now it was just the pair of them in his large home. Kona couldn’t stand not touching her for another second.

“We’re alone for the first time in weeks and I’ve had to be around you all day, walking down sidewalks where I held you as a kid, in hallways where you touched me and all I wanted to do is kiss you again.”

“Kona…”

His hands went to her hips, around her stomach. “I’ve been thinking about the party, about kissing you, that song, and how you didn’t hate it. How you kissed me back, how you touched me. I know I’m obvious. You know what I want.”

“You can get that from anyone.”

She was testing him, he knew; it was in her tone, in how straight she held her back and Kona couldn’t help the frustrated growl that left his mouth. “You’re not just anyone.” He took a chance, eased down to kiss her neck, slid his fingers at her nape to expose all of that skin to him and she didn’t push away from him. “I realized something that first day in the Market, even after I saw Ransom, after I realized you’d kept him from me all this time.”

“What…what did you realize?” Her voice sounded like a whine, then a moan when Kona kissed behind her ear.

“That I haven’t breathed in sixteen years. Not since you, sweetheart; not a real breath once since that day I pushed you away.”

“And…you… you can now?”

His breath moved down her neck and Kona loved the blanket of chills that covered Keira’s skin. “Like my lungs are wide open. Every time you walk in a room, every time I hear you sing, see you smile, touch you…it’s like breathing for the first time.” He pushed her hair out of his way, kisses further down her neck, moved the thin, linen shirt she wore to get to her back. He hadn’t seen it this entire month. He’d looked, wanting to know if she was still firm, still solid there, but Keira always kept her distance, always wore her hair in loose waves down her back.

Now Kona pulled on that shirt, lowers to kiss her again, right on the spot he’d missed all this time and then, eyes widening, he took his mouth from her skin. “You little liar.” She tried turning around but he kept her still, lowering her shirt more to see that bright Hibiscus tattoo. “Thought you got rid of it.”

“I…I tried to.” She turned, hands on his chest. “I meant to, but there was never enough money, then when there was, I just…couldn’t.” When he shook his head, Keira laughed at him and he loved the sound, loved how easy it came to her. “Look who’s talking. I know you covered yours up. I saw that spread you did in GQ. You have that massive tattoo over your chest now, all down your arm.” He backed away from her and his fingers go to his buttons. “What are you doing?”

One cock of his eyebrow silenced her and Kona grinned at Keira’s widening eyes, at how they lower onto his chest as each button came loose. “I added to my tattoo, Wildcat. I didn’t cover it up. You didn’t see that in the spread because I didn’t want my chest shown. That tattoo is for you and me. No one else.”

Kona pulled open his shirt, threw it onto the island and Keira’s eyes moved to the colossal Polynesian tribal designs, all black, all connected, that covered his shoulder, half his arm and his chest.

“Sixty hours with a bone-tipped rake and a striking stick. I was on the big island for three weeks and most of that time was with Naoki, an old war buddy of my kuku’s. There was no smartass tattooer telling me not to get inked for some girl, like Michael did. There was me, Naoki and his two sons. Up until a month ago, this piece was what I was proudest of in my life. Until I met Ransom. Until you introduced me to my son.”

Keira’s eyes softened and she lifted her hand, stretched her fingers like she wanted to touch him, but then curled her hand into a fist. Kona pulled on her hands, placed it on his shoulder. “This,” he said, to the black waves that circle his entire shoulder, “is for the persistent memory of those I’ve loved and lost. It’s for Luka, for my Kuku, the ones I pushed away when I was too stupid to realize how lucky I was, how loved.”

Kona turned, slid Keira’s fingers along his skin, up his shoulder, his breath shuddering at the feel of her nails smoothing over his traps, to his shoulder. She touched the spherical sun with waving flames and pointed spikes on his back. “This is for rebirth, for the renewal of myself, for me learning to forgive myself and never letting my weaknesses bury me again.”

Then Kona moved Keira’s fingers along his arm, catching her eyes, holding them as he trailed her hand to the dark and light shells intricately patterned against the tribal spaces that filled up his skin. “This is for protection, for my family, to remind me of what I lost, what I want to earn again.” Keira held his gaze, didn’t watch her fingers being moved back up his arm, to his chest where Kona marked himself for her all those years ago. “This entire piece is the story of my life, Keira; who I was, what I lost, what I want to have back and it all starts here. It starts with you, Wildcat.”

He stepped forward, took her hand and put it over his heart. “Ku`u Lei. My beloved. Then. Always. I could never get rid of that just like I could never really get rid of you.” Keira’s face was in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over that skin he’d been aching to touch and his chest constricted, heart strumming steady, but fast. “I could be a thousand miles from you, telling myself I didn’t want you, that I’d gotten over you, but it would be a lie. I remember the way your skin felt under my fingers. I remember the noises you made when I kissed you, how quick your breath got when I made you come, how soft you held me, how you made me feel things I didn’t think I was good enough to feel. You did that, always. You were mine and I never loved anything more. I never wanted anything or anyone like I wanted you. Like I still want you. My always, Keira. You’re still my always.” And then, Kona stopped talking, stopped wanting and took what was always his.

***

Keira

SHE’D LOVED him like a song. She told Kona that once.

His fingers were chords, the strong vibration of a beat that slipped into her chest, filled all the empty spaces that had been missing since her father’s death. His hands were a tempo, a crushing, consuming bass line that echoed in the stillness of her heart, filling it with thick, heavy beats she heard singing into her ears. And that song had not faded, had not dimmed in the years they were apart.

Kona kissed her, loved her with every touch and he played loud, loud, loud inside her, seeping into the portions of her body, the thin wisps of her soul that only he could ever sing to her. All those years, all the struggle they both endured faded like the reverb disappearing behind a back beat as he came to her, touching, kissing her against the sink, hands lowering, pulling her to his strong body. He was the drumbeat of her past, the soft melody of her memory coalescing in his extended arms, in the demanding, aching way his fingers played against her skin, under her shirt.

His words came in soft breaths against her skin, his mouth on her chin, across her face and Keira held onto him, eyes rolling back with those strong, certain hands pulling her in, closer, surer than he ever had before.

But he stopped; only a pause that had her blinking, another promise Keira didn’t believe was spoken lightly. He stared hard, face stern, a promise in his features that his words could never break.

“This time,” he said, breath calm but quick against her neck, “this time I won’t lie to you.” Those chords dipped down on her spine, up the tattoo she’d put there for him and he kissed her again, warm lips humming to the top of her pulse. Kona wrapped his too large, too heavy arms around her waist. “This time when you walk away, I won’t let you stay gone. This time, Wildcat, I’ll follow.”

But Kona didn’t follow. He led. Mouth on hers, tongue touching against Keira’s and then she was lifted up, arms around his neck, legs over his waist, Kona kissed her with a fierceness that was staggering, slow.

“Too long, Wildcat,” he said, stopping for a breath, stopping to look her down, take in her wet lips. He couldn’t seem to keep himself from her skin for more than a few seconds and Keira closed her eyes, tightening her hands against his neck as his kissed her.

She wanted to resist, to remember the promises she made to herself the day she walked away from Kona’s carved up Camaro. She never wanted to try again; never wanted to find anyone worth the gamble of a shattered heart.

But Kona was not some random person wanting her body. He was not some eager cowboy passing her looks across a bar or a cute singer wanting into her studio and her panties. Kona had been her everything, her always too. Keira’s brain told her to stop; it told her this was not smart, him touching her, her returning his attentions. Her heart screamed louder, was more insistent and so Keira silenced that logical refrain that told her to walk away. The brain was rationale, but doesn’t know passion, can’t reason love.

She listened to her heart.

It had been a long, long time since Keira let anyone touch her, longer still since Kona’s mouth was on hers, since she felt the hard planes and beautiful ridges of his body. God, how she’d missed this.

“Kona?” He stopped kissing her long enough to look at her, a question moving his eyebrows up. “Make me buzz.”

A low, barely contained growl from his throat and Kona held her tight, arm a steely grip around her waist as he walked them down the hall, into his large bedroom, not once taking his mouth from hers. He consumed her, took from her any rational thought, but it wasn’t like they once were. She wasn’t overwhelmed by the sensation, scared by what her body wanted.

Kona was slow, easy, sat them on the bed, Keira still wrapped around him, and his gaze stayed on her as he slipped her shirt off her head. His large fingers spread on her back, pulled her bra off her shoulders and he made to lower over her chest, but stopped, eyes back at hers. “You sure you want this?”

“My body needs this, Kona.”

His smile was light, sweet. “Baby, there isn’t anything I need more than you.”

Kona reached for her, mouth edging toward her neck, but stopped short when Keira’s cell chirps in her back pocket. “I need to talk to our son about his timing.” Kona’s smile was wide and when Keira twisted around, was somewhat trapped by her bra straps, Kona slipped her phone out of her pocket. He frowned, eyebrows drawn together as he looked at the screen. “Why the hell does he call you Marco?”

Keira’s laugh was quick, hurried and she took her phone from Kona to stare down at Ransom’s message:

Marco.

Tristan met us here.

Staying at Leann’s tonight.

See you tomorrow.

Have fun!

Keira smelled a plot and twisted her head to the side to stare at Kona. “We do Marco/Polo to check up on each other.” She shot off her answer:

Polo.

I’m on to you, lil man.

Be safe.

Phone on the bed, Keira narrowed her eyes at Kona. “Why do I get the feeling this sudden concert invite was planned?”

“I didn’t do anything.” At Keira’s small scowl, Kona leaned in, gave her a brief kiss. “I promise. Any schemes are all on your son.”

“Oh, he’s my son now?”

His smile widened. “Only when he’s in trouble, baby.” Kona pulled Keira closer, rubbing his mouth against her chest. “So where’d we leave off?”

“I told you my body needs this.”

“That’s right.” One strap down and Kona’s mouth was on her shoulder, tongue tickling over the curve of her breast. “I need this skin.” Then he unfastened the clasps at the back and pulled her free. “I’ve dreamt about these. Years. They are my fucking happy place.” Kona moved his hand from her back, cupping one breast, teasing it before he closes his mouth around it.

Keira felt the vibration of his groan against her skin; his lips sucking, tongue flicking the nipple to attention. “Yes…God…” and with her approving moan, Kona worked faster, changing sides, paying tribute to her breasts, suckled them, loved them and Keira needed the contact, had missed the drugging pull of his mouth on her.

Fingers in his hair, tugging, lowering, Keira’s clit hummed and she moved her hips against him, wanting to feel that hard erection, wanted him to increase, to bring back the sensations only Kona has ever managed. “Yes…harder, Kona.”

The words stir him, had her nipple between his teeth, nibbling, pulling and Keira loved that sharp bite, craved more from him. When her hips moved faster and her nails scratch down his strong, wide back, Kona groaned, popped her breast from his mouth and stared at her, chest moving fast, pants shifting her hair off of her face.

“Sweetheart, I want to go slow. I want to feel all of you again.”

“No,” she said, sliding against him, the points of her breast teasing his chest. “I don’t want slow. I don’t want soft.” Slow meant time. It meant a delay in the release Keira had craved for too long. “Don’t make me wait. I need this Kona. It’s been…I haven’t…” She wanted to cry when he stared at her. She wanted that sad, confused frown off his face, but she wouldn’t beg. Not him.

“Wildcat, how long has it been?”

He’d think she was stupid. Keira knew Kona would think this meant something—the time, the touch she’d denied herself. But he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t return his mouth to her body and the frustration keyed her up, made Keira helpless to him. “Kona, it doesn’t matter. Just…I need you. I can’t…”

He didn’t push, didn’t do more than nod, returned to the nibbles, the slightly painful bites against her skin and Keira breathed through her open mouth, arched back when he cupped both her breasts against his face, his teeth, the prickles of stubble on his chin.

They were dancing again—her moans told him where to go, how to touch her. Her insistent fingers showed him what she wanted. Keira’s tongue on his throat, moving, licking, her teeth digging into the sinewy muscle that connected his neck and shoulder, had Kona panting, gripping her back, standing them until they were in the center of the bed, until he lay over her, hands, mouth, tongues everywhere. Their bodies remembered this; act and react over again until Keira was naked, open before him, until Kona was ready, condom out and fastened over his hard, throbbing dick.

“Now Kona. Do…do it now.” Keira’s voice didn’t sound like her; the tone is off, wrong, needy, but she didn’t care that she was whining, that her words came out like a plea. She only knew that Kona’s body was still beautiful, still strong. She only knew that his mouth on her neck, on her stomach, teeth grazing thrilled her. “Do it. Just…now.”

He obeyed. A slip, a small tease of the head against her clit and Kona was inside.

“Fuck…Keira…fuck.” He moved in her, stretching, pulsing against her walls, hovering over her on those strong arms, muscles straining to hold himself up. “Baby, how are you still so tight…how…” Keira clenched against him and Kona was silent.

There were groans, the sweet, erotic sound of their bodies slapping together, his breath over her face, his wide, perfect tongue inside her mouth and Keira was drunk, high on him. She didn’t know, hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this, how his touch, his taste was like a drug. Her drug. How had she lived without this? Without him?

“Harder. Kona…I need…”

“Wildcat, look at me.” Keira growled when he stilled, her body moving with the shake of his shoulders and she looked up at him, eyebrow arched. But his smile relaxed her, chased away some of her annoyance. “Tell me what you need.” A small thrust to keep that frown from her face and Keira’s eyes rolled behind her closing lids. Kona stopped, waited until she looked at him again. “You want me to fuck you, Keira?” A harder thrust, this one had Keira’s legs shaking. “Or do you want me to love you?”

Either answer and one of them would be disappointed, but Keira had been selfless for a long time, putting everyone’s needs before her own. Kona looked down at her and she exhaled, releasing the stores of want she had hoarded inside herself for sixteen years.

She touched his face, fingertips on his brow, over his cheek and she hoped he understands. “Kona, you can love me later. Right now, please fuck me.”

There was a flicker of indecision on his face—small displeasure coupled with something akin to quick desire. Whatever Kona felt conflicted him but Keira didn’t have time to think about him being confused or disappointed. Kona nodded once, shifted her hips so that he slipped deeper inside her, biting his lip at the quick moan Keira released before he disengaged.

“Fine,” he said, his smile falling a fraction and then he pulled out of her completely, coming up on his knees.

“What…what are you doing?” She felt cold, unsatisfied, but didn’t reach for him, curled her fingers into a fist.

“What you asked.” Kona grabbed her arms, fingers biting into her soft flesh and he kissed her. Tongue in her mouth, grip tight, lips so hard he pulled another quick moan from her. Then, just as quickly as he brought his mouth down on hers, Kona moved away. “Turn around. Ass up so I can fuck you, Wildcat.”

Keira couldn’t move, was teased by the black tint in his eyes, by those big hands reaching for her, pulling on her waist. “You…are you mad?”

“No. I’m hard. I want inside you. I’ll give you want you want, then I’ll take what I need.” He slapped her ass and the sound echoed around the room. Keira grew wetter, her clit throbbing harder. “Now move, baby.”

Kona twisted her around, lowered her to the bed with his hand on the center of her back. He didn’t wait for her to settle. He didn’t wait for her to grab a pillow or fist the sheets. Kona was behind her, holding her hips and then he was inside again.

Keira felt stretched and from this angle, so full. It had never been this way before. They’d done this once, but like most of the times they were together, it was rushed, hurried before someone, her cousin, his brother, the cops, interrupted them. She’d liked it then. She loved it now.

“Oh God…Kona…” She loved him directing her, loved how tight he held onto her hips, how hard he thrusted into her.

“Shit, baby…open…open up for me. Like you used to. You know what I like.”

She remembered. It had been so long since anyone controlled her, since anyone took the time to make her body feel alive, electrified. Only Kona could do that. Part of her wondered if it was still in her, if she could relinquish the steadfast control she’d always had to maintain. But Kona felt so good, so wide inside her and her body remembered this, craved it.

“Are they still mine, baby?” Fingers digging into her hips, Keira dropped down, her chest lowered on the mattress to give Kona more access. He slipped in deeper, worked harder. “You still giving them to me, Keira?”

“Yea…yes, Kona. They’re yours, God, they’re all yours.”

Keira met him, pushing back against him, taking what Kona gave over and over again until she felt that tight coil inside her, right at her center curling, heating her entire body. She felt high, head weighted, but the smell of Kona’s skin, his large body behind her, the sound of their bodies coming together, had her moaning, needy, ready to take whatever he gave. She’d take it over and over again to feel this sensation, to have her body aching and hungry, reaching for that climax she could almost touch. She was close, could nearly taste the release brimming and she steadied herself on her knees, pulling Kona’s arm around her waist, asking him to hurry, to bring her right where her body wanted to be.

“You like this, Wildcat? You like me fucking you hard?”

“Yes…oh God yes.”

Kona leaned closer, hips still moving, fingers sliding down her stomach, right to her clit, circling, coaxing from her that sweet release she craved before his nibbled at her neck, tongue and teeth teasing her skin. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.” When Keira felt the hint of her climax, she threw her head back, an invitation that Kona took and he twisted her hair around his fingers, working harder, pulling until Keira’s center pulsed and then, finally, she was coming, around him, on him, squeezing and clenching.

Kona’s hand still worked on her clit, faster and faster, his fingers loosening in her hair, his warm breath against her neck. “That’s it baby. Fall apart. Fall apart and I’ll catch you.”

That pent up release staggered her, had her voice issuing a raspy cry; wave after wave rushing through her body until Keira’s knees gave out, until Kona lowered her to the bed, covering her body, still nestled inside her.

“Dear God,” she finally said, breath so labored, so uneven that she saw small eddies and spots behind her closed eyes. Above her, Kona kissed her shoulder, pulled her hands over her head as his hips continued to work.

“Wider, baby. Give it all to me.”

And his slow, steady rhythm had that orgasm lingering, waving through as though it would never stop. Keira remembered this clearly now, Kona on top of her, so deep inside her, leading her until no thought could stick in her mind; until there was only the smell of his skin and the thick pulse of him deep inside her.

“That’s it…keep going.”

She didn’t know how he does this, how his voice, his domineering command controled her so effortlessly, but she drank him up, let him love her harder, steadier until she couldn’t control the shake of her limbs, the pulsing ache that thundered in her body.

“God, oh, Kona!”

And he followed her, hips moving, slapping against her as he came hard, joining her in that sweet, easy surrender.

She had not stopped buzzing, hands still shaking when Kona rolled them to face each other, cradles her against his chest so that Keira could collapse, settle as she came apart on his chest.

A brief peck on her forehead calmed her, pushed up the stillness in the room, the gentle touch of his hands on her moving like a current through her body. That touch on her face softened even more and Kona’s touch moved down to her nose, over her eyelids until his lips brushed hers, until his hand cupped her chin, directed her face higher.

“My always,” he whispered and then Kona leaned down, wet lips on her mouth, tongue back inside and he took her wrists with his freehand, fingers threaded with hers on the pillow above her head as he eased back inside of her.

“Kona…I…”

“Shh, beautiful just let me touch you.” He slid his mouth to her ear, down her neck. “Let me love you for a little bit longer.”

And Keira did not argue, did not stop Kona from loving her, from touching her like it was the first time. Like it would be the last. His breath over her, his heavy body on top of her and Keira closed her eyes and let Kona take what he needed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KEIRA

KEIRA WAS NAKED, lying on her stomach. It took a moment for her thoughts to organize, to remind her that it was Kona’s bed she was sleeping in. It was his large hand settled on her lower back. It was Kona last night that made her body ache.

She smiled, flashes of them together, him taking her hard, then loving her and loving her again, playing like a slow loop in her mind. His touch, his mouth, his lovely, wide dick had brought her to the brink over and over. She thought no one could come that much; that the female body wasn’t capable of that many orgasms. Kona disproved all that.

A quick glance down her body and Keira saw the marks, lovely, faint purple bruises, several teeth marks that she would wear like a badge of honor. They could last a week, maybe two and the idea of more of them, twins to the colors across her skin, given to her in the weeks ahead…

The weeks ahead wiped the smile from Keira’s face.

They only had three more weeks until summer’s end. Steven’s estate would be organized by then. Those poor kids he never met, those abandoned women he treated like whores would get what remained. They’d have it all in three short weeks. And then what? Where would she be? Nashville? Here with Kona?

He cared about her. She knew that. He loved Ransom. Keira had seen that in every glance Kona shot their son’s way. He was proud of the boy she’d raised. He wanted to be a part of the man Ransom would become.

But where would that happen? Would he leave New Orleans and the opportunities here to live with them? Did he want to live with them?

Despite the infrequent mention of “always” they hadn’t discussed much last night. They teased each other, tortured each other with their tongues, with their bodies, but Kona didn’t say he still loved her. They hadn’t made plans for what would happen next.

He still hadn’t apologized. Not for what he’d told her that day. It was stupid, she knew, to hold onto that anger. It made no sense for that hurt, that betrayal to fester in her chest. She had Ransom. He’d been the offering Kona had made for his sins without ever knowing. Keira shouldn’t still be angry. But she thought she still needed the words. She needed that “sorry.”

A quick roll on her back and Keira watched Kona sleep. There was a small grin on his face and his features were relaxed; that forehead smooth, mouth unclenched; sated, happy. She wanted to stare at him. She wanted to spend the day watching him sleep. Keira wanted to curl against his chest, have his arms around her. But for how long?

And then her life in Nashville came back to her. The responsibilities she’d created for herself. The obligations.

Keira closed her eyes, feeling a hefty weight of guilt, remorse coiling in her chest. She’d spent the night with Kona free of worry; free from anything that would take her attention from his touch, his smell. She’d acted like a teenager without a care in the world. The last time she did that, she’d ended up shattered, broken and her belly swollen by a baby.

Ransom could stay with Kona. The thought made her heart shutter, but it’s what her son needed. He’d be with Leann, with Tristan and finally have the father he needed. But Keira? Coming back here with all the ghosts of the past eager to consume her? No. She couldn’t do it.

Turning away from Kona, she eased off the mattress, movements slow, quiet as she searched the room for her clothes. She’d leave him a note. He’d have to understand. She had a life back in Tennessee and Kona wasn’t a part of it. He had his own plans, his own obligations.

“Where are you going?” He sat up, thin sheet around his waist, dipped so Keira could see the hard grooves of his stomach, the deep indentions near his hips.

She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t let him change her mind. He’d argue with her, try to convince her that she should stay. She just… couldn’t.

“It’s late,” she finally said, fastening her bra, ignoring how delicious Kona’s deep voice sounded, how his hair was rumpled from sleep. “I’ve got things to get to today.”

She upturned the thick duvet on the floor searching for her shirt and noticed Kona’s head turning, eyes on his clock. “It’s seven a.m. What could you possibly have to do at seven a.m.?”

“I’ve got a meeting.” It was a lie, a bad one, but Keira didn’t look at him, kept her intentions off her face. Keira’s shirt was wrinkled and she shook it out. “So do you.” Back to him, she sat on the mattress, picking lint off her shirt before she tugged it on. Behind her, Kona slipped to the end of the bed, just the sheet covering him and she closed her eyes when he touched her, stopping her as she tried to dress.

“Hey. What is this?”

She looked at him, gave him a brief, dispassionate kiss. Her smile was forced, that touch too brief and she knew Kona wouldn’t buy that she wasn’t hurrying away from him. “This is me getting dressed. That’s all this is.” She gave him another quick peck and came off the bed picking up her jeans from the dresser.

“I know what this is,” he said, not stopping when she sighed.

“What are you talking about, Kona? I’m just getting dressed. I can’t stay in bed all day.” Her jeans were up, zipper fastened and Keira decided to be flippant; not to let on to why she’s really leaving. She couldn’t linger there, couldn’t put off what had to be done. She tried not to watch him as he slid from the bed; the sheet fell back and his wide back, that gloriously naked ass didn’t jiggle or flinch as he pulled on his jeans.

One black ballet slipper was under the dresser, the other, somewhere Keira couldn’t see and she stopped, stepped back when Kona stood in front of her, hands holding her arms. “You’re running.”

“No I’m not.” Even to her own ears, those words came out too quickly.

Kona walked back, leaned against the dresser and she moved around the room, finally spotting her shoe underneath the bed. She felt cold, chilled by the loss of his hand on her, by the way he folds his arms watching her. “If this isn’t you running then why were you trying to sneak out before I got up?”

“I was going to leave you a note.”

“A note?” Kona pushed off the dresser, coming too close to her, his large body intimidating, his mouth hard. “That’s what I get from you? After last night? I get a note?”

He always had to make everything difficult. He couldn’t just let her leave, could he? Wouldn’t let her walk away and she knew that. Since the night of Ransom’s party. She knew if she kissed him he would keep coming for her. He would come for her until she broke him. Until he broke her again. Like the last time.

Patience gone, Keira threw her shoe on the floor. “What the hell did you expect? You thought we’d fall back into it again? You thought I’d sleep with you and then what, exactly? We’d all be one big happy family?”

He didn’t like her anger; she could tell. Those massive hands were at his side, clenched into fists. “I didn’t think anything past you wrapped around me, but why does the idea of us have you running out like I’m some fucking douchebag you slept with when you were drunk?” Keira wouldn’t listen to this. He was being irrational, stubborn. She tried leaving, moving around him to reach the door, but he was faster, wider and blocked her path easily. “Because I’m not. Whatever else you think, I’m not just some fuck and you damn well know it.”

“I never said you were.” People don’t change, things do. Kona was proof of that and the idea was unsettling. It was infuriating. “God, you still do that shit.”

“What do I do?”

“You get these stupid self-deprecating ideas in your head and then run with them. You think you know me so damn well, think you know what’s going on in my head. You always did that and it drove me crazy.”

Hands over his face and a low, frustrated noise rumbling in his chest, Kona frowned at her. “What else am I supposed to think? You were sneaking out, trying to avoid this conversation.”

“I was not.” She pulled away from him when he reached for her, slipped on her shoe, but he still wouldn’t budge from in front of the door. “Kona, let me go. Please. I’ve got things to get through today and I don’t have time to smooth your ego because you didn’t get the chance to kick me out.”

A small twist of his head and Kona’s mouth dropped open, but he recovered, blinking as though he hadn’t heard that insult for what it was. Keira knew she was grasping at straws, searching for something that would push him away or at least move him from the door. Still, Kona’s anger was quick, face reddening as he glared down at her. “Shit, why don’t you tell me what kind of person you think I am, Keira? You think I fuck anything that throws it at me and then toss them out?” Her dismissive shrugged only stoked his anger further. “If you thought so little of me then why the hell were you with me last night?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t watch him, scrubbed her hands over her face to block out his anger, his shock. “I shouldn’t have been. It was a lapse in judgment brought on by too much time on Memory Lane.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you and now you’re running because you don’t want to admit the simple truth.”

“And what do you imagine that simple truth is?”

Kona was in front of her in two small steps, hands back on her shoulders, despite her struggling away from her. “You and me. It’s still there. It’s there even more than it was when we were kids. It hasn’t changed, it hasn’t left us and I doubt it ever will.”

“God, Kona, please stop this.” Keira wished that wasn’t true. She wished that whatever she felt for him had died the day she boarded that Greyhound. But he was right. She’d known how right he was since the second she saw him in the Market. No matter how much time had passed or how many miles separated there was no extinguishing that flame between them.

Still, she couldn’t have him. She wouldn’t. Sometimes you sacrifice so much, give so much to others that you forget to save something for yourself. Keira didn’t know how to have what she wanted anymore. She’d forgotten how to be greedy for the happiness she once had. “You and me, we aren’t going to happen. We will never happen again.”

In the weeks she’d been around him, Keira had noticed the changes. Kona was calmer, easy going. He had relaxed and time and distance seems to have taught him control, discipline. He no longer let his anger control him. He wasn’t jealous or possessive. He rarely screamed at her, not since the party. Not since he’d met Ransom. That all changed now and the man in front of her reverted to the hot head linebacker he’d once been.

A collectible football in a glass case on the dresser was the first victim of Kona’s rage. Then, the bench at the foot of the bed got kicked, shot across the room before Kona faced her; his hands shaking, his control slipping as he battled against wanting to touch her, reaching for her, and stepping away, out of her space. Finally, swallowing, fingers scrubbing his face, running through his tousled hair, Kona’s shoulders lowered, defeated, worn. “Why are you doing this?”

She wanted him to understand. They had come too close to the past last night. The gripping, the tugging, the hard passion, it had all been her, what she wanted, but Keira’s loosened control scared her. She couldn’t be that girl again. She would never be that girl again.

“Because love isn’t like this. You and I weren’t in love.” She ignored how tightly he closes his eyes, as though hearing the truth is like a slap to his face. “We were addicted to each other, you just never understood that. You liked the chase and then you liked my temper and it all just escalated.”

A rough growl and Kona’s voice lifted in a shout. “Don’t tell me what I felt…what I feel. You don’t know me, you aren’t in my head.”

“That’s exactly my point. We aren’t kids anymore. This isn’t you and me on campus making out after a game. We have a son. We have responsibilities and you keep forgetting that. You keep forgetting the bad. You never remember the bad.” Keira couldn’t take that expression, the hard stare, the disappointment, his anger. She closed her eyes, squeezed them tight praying he’d let her go, wishing that she really wanted him to. “God, Kona, you act like I was this great thing to you, like what we were was the greatest thing that ever happened to you.”

He moved quick, like a shot and grabbed her face, fingers gentle, but firm on her face. “You were.”

The truth stunned her, silenced her until all she heard was his breath, the labored way he exhaled, the fierce, steady widening of his eyes. He broke her heart with that look, with the desperate way he leaned his forehead against her.

She tried for calm. Keira tried to collect herself, slow her heartbeat, but Kona smelled too sweet; his touch felt too right. Walk away. Walk away and don’t look back.

“And I’m not anymore.” She pulled his hand from her face, trying to turn away, not wanting him to know how much he affected her. “I won’t be again.”

“Keira, please.” He stood behind her, but doesn’t touch her. She’s grateful for that at least. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this.”

“You can’t, Kona. There’s nothing left to fix. We tried once and it nearly broke me. I…gave you everything. I gave you absolutely everything I had and you took it all.” Kona’s shadow lengthened across the dark floor, his wide arms curled up, hands on the back of his neck as though he has to restrain himself from touching her. “You were greedy for it and it still wasn’t enough. And now, now you come back into my life and you want it all again. You want more.” One glance over her shoulder and Keira looked down, unable to take the tremble moving his chin. “I can’t give you that. I won’t. You aren’t my life anymore. You can’t be. Ransom is.”

“What are you talking about, Keira? Of course it was enough.”

She turned, tears in her eyes and she leaned out of his touch when he reached to wipe them away. “Then why did you give me up? If I was so important to you, meant so much to you, why did you push me away? And why the hell did you not once fight for me?”

His voices went soft, eyes shifting from the floor to Keira’s face. “I didn’t know how. Not then.”

“Well I did.” A quick, annoyed wipe against her cheek and Keira lifted her chin, aching to sound proud, brave. “I fought Kona. I spent the past sixteen years fighting and trying to make sure I didn’t become a cliché. And I didn’t. I am more than that. All that fighting I did, worked. It worked too well. I gave you too much. I gave Ransom what was left. I don’t have anything more to give.”

Kona pulled his top lip between his teeth and a hard line formed between his eyebrows as though he hated hearing the truth. “I would have been there. You have to know, if you’d told me, I would have dropped my entire life to be at your side, to fight for you, to protect you…both of you.”

She stared at him, shocked that he seems to actually believe that. “No. You wouldn’t have. Your mother would have never let you. I was the haole whore she hated. The stupid slut that had her son forgetting about all her plans. And you listened. You were the good little boy obeying her.” Kona touched her arm, took a step, looking as though he needed to feel her, to hold her, but Keira was too worked up, too annoyed with herself, with him, to take his comfort. She pulled out of his grip. “You still are. Even today, she’s still got her clutches into you. You still wouldn’t fight for me.”

“I walked away from her, Keira. It’s been weeks…”

“She’ll come back and you’ll let her. I can’t be around that. I…I can’t let Ransom around that woman. She wins every time, Kona. She always did. She’s your blood and who are we?”

This time Kona didn’t let her pull away from him. This time, he moved forward, taking her shoulders, fingers firm as though he couldn’t let her go; as though he’d never let her go.

“You’re my family. Keira, you and Ransom, you’re my everything. No one else matters to me. I know I don’t deserve you. I know I threw everything we were away.” He stepped closer, hands on her face, thumb rubbing against her cheek. “You won’t ever know how it killed me. But I was scared. My brother died because of me and I was so angry at myself, I hated myself for what happened to Luka. I was afraid that I was falling, that I was digging my own grave and I wouldn’t drag you down with me.” There is a strange look on Kona’s face, eyes closing, head shaking and he looked pained, conflicted as though he wars with his thoughts, weighs and measures the logic of saying whatever is in his head. Finally, he loosened his grip, stepped back to pace before he leaned on the dresser, hands over his face. “I…I found you once. About twelve years ago.”

“What?” It seemed impossible to Keira. Twelve years? It didn’t make sense. How could he have found her and not known about Ransom? “You couldn’t…what?”

“I’d looked for years.” He moved his hands from his face, but Kona still rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Keira as though his confession pains him. “I took a year off after…everything and when I got back to CPU, I was different. I was miserable. Nothing was good for me. And I just existed.” Kona’s shoulders sagged, his eyes finally staring right at Keira’s face. “I tried for two years to convince your mother and Leann just to tell me where you were. To give me a hint. They weren’t having any of it. You’d gone off the grid and no one knew where you were. If they did, they weren’t telling me.” Keira moved toward him, but stopped short when he shook his head. “I need to get this out. Please.”

“Okay.” She waited for him to continue and hated that his mouth was drawn down, muscles around his eyes tensed.

When Keira sat on the bed, Kona pulled his fingers together staring at them, unwilling, maybe unable, to look at Keira while he spoke. “So I just lived, played ball, went to class, I lived like a monk, Keira. I didn’t drink or sleep with anyone, I didn’t do anything but work my ass off because I was so lonely, so miserable without you, without Luka.”

She’d never once considered what life had been like for Kona without them. She believed he hated her. She believed he blamed her for Luka’s death. But she never believed that he was alone. He was Kona Hale and despite the scandal of his arrest and the loss of his brother, Keira always thought that he’d pick himself up, that he’d go back to his life the way it was before her.

But as Kona kept his gaze on his clasped fingers, she understood that her assumptions had been wrong. He felt the loss she did, but there was no baby there to divert his pain.

“A year after I signed my first contract, I had enough money, I hired a P.I. The guy was good. But not good enough. It took him four years and one day he finally hands me this thick file. But I just…I couldn’t touch it.” He managed to look at her—shame, guilt working in his eyes. “I was scared what I’d find. It sat on my kitchen table for a week and then, September 11th happened and I couldn’t get past the fear that you’d been there, on one of those planes, in one of those buildings. I kept seeing you dead over and over, Keira.

“The P.I. told me you were in Nashville and I drove there from Florida. All night. I got to your place and no one was there. I was exhausted and frustrated and so I stopped at a hotel, needing a rest.” Kona’s chest expanded, his inhale deep, his exhale weighted and then he pushed off of the dresser, sat next to Keira on the bed. “I was checking out, ready to go back, mad, frustrated and then…” Without looking at her, Kona took her hand, moved it to his thigh to rub his finger on her palm. His voice was low, as though the memory was too much, like he needed the feel of her skin to strengthen him. “I walk past a ballroom and there you were, up on a stage, looking like an angel, singing, smiling. All I could do was watch you.” A slow lift of his chin and Kona watched her, eyes on her forehead, her mouth, slight, easy smile on his face. “You were so beautiful, so talented, lit from the inside, Keira and I was so proud of you.”

Those last six words were so heartfelt that Keira felt the sweet burn of tears in her eyes. Had she waited to hear that from him? Had she always needed someone to say those words to her and mean it? She realized that she had; she wanted Kona to understand, to respect her for the efforts she made, for the strength it took to walk away from everything she knew.

“And then, you leave the stage, land right in the arms of some guy I couldn’t see and you looked so happy, baby. You looked like you were finally smiling and it was real and you...” Kona’s fingers still on her palm, lay flat and the small grin against his cheek isn’t amused, more critical than happy. “I thought you were with that guy. I thought you’d forgotten me and so I just turned around and left. I got back home and burned the file.”

She remembered the night; Mark had tried convincing her for months, years to step out of the protection of their home, to show the world her talent. But the fear had always been there—the same fear that crippled her father. She’d made excuses to everyone, Leann, Mark, herself, and then that horrible day happened when the Towers fell, and her life, everyone’s lives, changed forever.

“That was a songwriter’s showcase,” she told Kona, staring down at their hands. “I remember because Mark told me I had to do it. All those people died on those flights and I was too scared to do what I loved. It gave me the motivation to get over my stage fright. That…that was Mark you saw me with me, Kona.”

A small head shake as though he knew and then Kona came to his knees in front of her, arms on top of her legs as he held her hips. “If had any idea…you being there…if I’d know about Ransom…if you’d told me, I would have walked away from everything. I wouldn’t have cared what anyone thought because I loved you.”

“And you would have blamed me.” Despite everything; what they were, what they’d created together, Keira knew he would have blamed her. It was inevitable. “I would have been the girl that destroyed the life you could have had.”

“No. You would have been the girl that saved me.” Kona sat up on his knees, coming closer, bringing one hand to her neck. “You were the girl that saved me. I haven’t been a saint. In fact, I tried to drive you from my head, tried to erase you completely, but Keira, you’re a part of me. You and Ransom, you’re the best part of me.”

“Kona, we can’t—”

“You’re scared, I know,” he interrupted her, palm back on her cheek, voice strong, fierce. “I don’t care about what could happen, baby. I don’t care about all the shit we did to each other in the past. I only know that when you’re around, when I’m near you, in you, everything else falls away. You make it stop. You always have.” He moved closer, leaning his forehead against hers. “You still do. And it will never be enough unless you’re mine. I’ve always been yours, Wildcat. I’ve always belonged to you completely.” He came back to her side, pulling her onto his lap. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry you were alone.” Kona’s voice cracked and his fingers against her hip tightened. “I’m sorry my son never knew me. I’m so fucking sorry I lied to you. Keira, I’m sorry.”

She’d waited for those words. They’d become the tiny bud of expectation that fed her hungry soul. She had wanted to hear “I'm sorry” and “forgive me” even as she sat in the back of a Greyhound, a frightened kid, lost to the comfort that she'd let vanish from her heart.

Now he said it like he meant it. Those precious words left Kona’s mouth like a promise, like the desperate appeal for absolution of a dying man.

Two simple words that she had chased, had kept brimming, stoking in her heart and until this moment with the giant holding her; her Samson humbling himself, waiting until she'd grant his pardon, Keira realized that forgiveness had come to her a long time ago.

It came when she felt Ransom swimming in her womb, telling her with sharp jabs and quick thumps that he would fill the empty spaces left by Kona's betrayal. He was the promise of something she thought had died.

It came to her when the nurse put a swollen, bright-eyed boy in her arms and she thought her chest would splinter from the thick love bursting in her heart.

Forgiveness came on the wings of time, when she forgot how deeply Kona wounded her, when she veiled the blinding pain his words had caused.

She forgave him and he’d never known it. She forgave him and in her mind, somewhere among the lost memory of the girl who loved him, she forgot that Kona’s betrayal had been a gift all along.

Keira had to know what today meant, what tomorrow would bring for them and so she lifted his head, hoping that in her eyes he saw the plea, understood that she needed a promise he wouldn’t break. “Kona…do you…do you still love me?”

There is no tension in his face, no self-effacing frown that told her his guilt had overwhelmed him. Kona looked, in fact, like a man who had been given a absolution from his sin; like he’d been given another chance at freedom. “Wildcat…” he took a breath, head shaking. “I never stopped.”

***

He left her in his bed, body exhausted, worn from a morning of touching, pleasing and then Kona kissed Keira on the temple, pulled her hair off her face.

“I’ll be back in two hours. Don’t you move from this spot.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” She stretched, snuggled against those warm blankets that smelt of them and let Kona kiss her one more time. “Hurry home.”

“I like that. You saying home.”

She didn’t know what her dreams were, couldn’t remember the details, but Kona’s arms were around her, his lips on her neck, down her back and Keira smiled in that half-awake, half-asleep bliss. Then, her cell on the bedside table screamed to her from that languid dream and Keira sat up, naked, the sheets sliding down her body.

Ransom’s picture came across her screen, him flipping the bird while blowing the camera a kiss and Keira accepted the call, yawned as she answered it. “Son, it’s only ten a.m. Why are you…?”

“Why’d he do it, Mom?”

His tone was elevated, shaking and Keira’s heart instantly thundered in her chest. He was upset, crying and the rattle in his voice told her he was having an episode. “Sweetie, what is it? What happened?” She immediately left the bed, scrambling around the room to find her clothes with her cell sandwiched between her shoulder and ear. “I’ll come get you right now. I want you to be calm.”

“Calm? You want me calm? The hell with calm, Keira.”

He only called her by her first name when his rage had crested, when he was beyond the point of controlling it. “Ransom…”

“I am so fucking done with him.” She knew he was aiming for rage, anger, but the curse word came out in a heavier shake, in a quiver that made Keira’s stomach burn. “I thought he gave a shit. I thought Kona really…”

“Sweetie, I want you to breathe and tell me what’s going on. I’m in the dark here.”

“Turn on the television.” And then, the line went dead.

Keira was torn, thoughts scattered by what she should do. She thought of calling him back, but she knew her son, knew he’d only ignore her call. She thought of calling Kona, then Leann to make sure Ransom was okay, but sense returned to her and she pulled on her clothes, thumbing through her phone to see if Ransom had left any messages, if Leann had. When she found none, Keira sat on the edge of the bed, clicking on the TV and she pushed her feet into her shoes.

The channel was on ESPN and Keira stood, phone falling to the floor when she saw the grainy video on the feed, playing over and over. The commentators were analyzing what they saw, heads shaking in disapproval and Keira pushed up the volume, stomach twisting as that damn video replayed.

“…at the time he was fourteen.”

“Big guy for someone so young.”

“Just like his father.”

“And speaking of his father, Hale’s camp claims that Kona is aware of his son’s, and this is a direct quote, folks, ‘volatile, emotional problems’ that they are ‘trying to combat with medical and psychiatric treatment.’”

“Well, Bryan, that’s a lot for Hale to take on and I have to wonder if the Steamers will still consider a contract with him. Seems like he should be sticking closer to home than in New Orleans.”

“Absolutely, look, Bob, here it is again. Hale’s kid picks this boy up and bam, right through that plate glass.”

Keira didn’t need to see the highlights. She was too familiar with that stupid video. Ransom at fourteen, hands on the collar of Mikee Sibley, a junior twenty pounds lighter than her son. She closed her eyes, seeing it as it played out, just as the principle had shown her the day she’d been called into an emergency meeting.

“Ms. Riley, we simply cannot have this. He won’t be welcomed back.”

Keira’s body was shaking, fingers barely able to grab her keys, her purse as she left Kona’s house.

“Ransom could have killed him and the damage to the lobby…”

“Where is my son?”

“In the security office.”

Keira drove down the road, wiping her tears from her face, eyes flicking through her phone on her lap as she tried to find Leann’s number.

They’d handcuffed her fourteen-year-old son. To them, he was a monster, the bully whose rage had spilled out of him when he found his friend crying against the lockers, when that small girl told Ransom how Mikee had touched her.

“He tried to hurt her, Mom. She was so scared. I…I was so mad.”

“I know, baby. I know you were.”

They called him a psychopath. They told her Ransom was unbalanced, but all she saw that day was a scared boy who didn’t mean to get so angry. She only saw his body shaking from fear, from humiliation.

And now, it came back. Two years later. He’d gotten so much better, had learned to control his anger. And Kona. Why the hell would he say that about Ransom? Why the hell would he allow his people to release that statement? Kona didn’t know anything about what had happened. He really didn’t know much about Ransom at all.

Keira weaved through mid-city traffic, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as she clicked on the speaker. One ring, two and Leann finally picks up.

“Keira?”

“Where is he?”

“Sweetie, I think he went back to Mandeville. He wouldn’t stay. Keira, he was so mad. I’ve never seen him so mad.” In the background, Leann’s school noise rang out; music, young girls laughing, tap shoes against wooden floors and then finally, a click of a door and the noise quiets. “Tristan tried stopping him and Ransom hit him.”

“Oh, Leann…”

“I know. He took my Volvo and left. Tristan thinks he went back to the lake house. He said something about packing and getting home.” Her cousin’s voice was high, worried.

Keira cleared her throat, tried to pull the emotion from her voice. “I’m sorry, Leann. This shouldn’t have happened. I don’t why Kona would…I don’t know how…”

“Sweetie, just drive safe. Don’t speed and get to him in one piece. We’ll deal with Kona Hale later.”

“Yeah. We definitely will.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KEIRA

THE PIANO KEYS STRUCK LOUD, angry, those brutal notes pounding out across the tile at Keira’s feet. Ransom’s clothes, shoes, were scattered in the hallway, across the floor and Keira picked them up, draped them on her arm as she darted into the living room.

Wide, shaking shoulders, chest rising quick, Ransom struck the keys—half played intros, unfinished choruses start and stop and Keira’s heart broke.

A slap, a curse and Ransom slammed his fists on the keys, growling, angry as Keira walked into the room.

“Sweetie,” she said, grabbing his arm, pulling him to her chest when he tried walking away. There was no sound worse to a mother than that of her child’s heart breaking. Her boy was devastated, his pain like an electric line snapping and biting. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

Ransom’s wet face dampened her shirt when he wiped his eyes against the fabric and he pulled back, breath shuddering before he looked at her. “Everything is over, Mom. My life here, my life back home. Everyone will know. They will all know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His cheeks were hot, red as she pulled his face up and those eyes—those dark, intelligent eyes looked lost, distant, with streaks of red lining around the whites, puffing up his lids. “We’ll fix this, honey. I promise.”

“How? How can you fix this? You can’t do anything, Mom. He…Kona…that asshole…I thought…”

The buildup crests—that swift thread of rage, of fury slipping back, shaking his fingers, made her son lean out of her touch. But Keira settled him, caught that slip of control before it is out of her hands completely.

“Play.” She turned his shoulders, moved his wrist onto the keys.

“It won’t help.” Ransom’s jaw worked, clenched as she held his large hands steady on the piano. “No, Mom, I can’t. It won’t work. I can’t get it to work this time.”

“Then I’ll help you. Come on.” He hesitated, just for a moment and with one shuddering exhale, began to play. The notes were sporadic, uneven as his fingers slipped across the keys and Keira urged him, filled in the missing notes with her right hand, her left steady, still on his back. “That’s it. Good. Take your breaths. Count for me.” And he did; clipped, uneasy numbers, gritted through his teeth, but they come.

“One…tw…two…”

Keira wanted to slap something, beat in Kona’s face, but she pushed the inclination away, focused on the way Ransom’s eyes stared down at the keys, how his fingers weren’t shaking as much. “Can you…will you sing with me, sweetie?”

Eyes squeezed tight, Ransom shook his head, bending his back and she knew he was trying to lose himself in the music. She’d seen it too often from him. He wanted to drift from his anger, become lost in the feel of the ivory on his fingertips and the vibration of the pedals at his feet.

He was wandering, out of touch with the calm he needed; broken by the ghosts of the past and Keira’s chest pulled tight, hating that her son felt the sting that has lived in her for sixteen years. She never wanted this for him. She didn’t want her mistakes, her sin, to touch him. But it had and its bite was vicious and crippling.

The tune was familiar to her; something new, something that Ransom learned after hearing it one time on the radio. He played by ear and she thought he knew this song, that it lived inside him. It’s loss and pain and the fever that love brings; the numbing pull that loving someone can do. She didn’t know all the words, but she’d try. For her boy, she’d try anything to heal him.

Ransom didn’t frown or flinch when she missed some of the words, filling them in with her own. He continued to play, notes clearer, surer and when she reached the second course, he picked up the song, voice shaking, a quiver trembling the lyrics, but the words came to him, strengthened him as he continued to sing.

The bridge, she knew because the words always managed to hit close to all the heartache Keira brought upon herself.

FUNNY YOU’RE the broken one,

but I’m the only one who needed saving.

RANSOM’S HAIR WAS WAVY, tousled by his fingers, something he did when he was annoyed, frustrated; another gesture he’d inherited from Kona and she pushed back a thick wave that had fallen onto his forehead. The touch had him pausing, forehead creased as he looked at her and then, he took his hands off the keys and jerked up as he stared over Keira’s shoulder.

He was hers. Ransom had her talent for music. He had her easy nature, her need to make others comfortable. But that rage, that tiny fuse of calm came from both Kona and Keira and it was that fuse lit and quickly shortening that Keira saw just then. Ransom kicked the bench back, nearly toppling her to the floor and her son darted toward his father standing in the patio doorway.

“Son…wait…” Kona tried, hands up.

“Don’t you call me that, asshole. I’m not your son.” Kona let Ransom take him by the collar, let him shove him against the wall before Keira could stop him. “No decent father would do that to his kid.”

“Ransom, don’t.” Keira’s hands on her son’s shoulders did nothing. “Please, he’s not worth it.”

***

Kona

KONA TOOK her words like medicine. He needed it; they cut deep, but he allowed something unforgiveable. He wanted more of Keira’s insults. He wanted all of Ransom’s rage.

“Why would you do that?” His son shook him again and Kona’s head went back, hit the wall behind him. “What gives you the right?”

He couldn’t find words; there weren’t any. Kona could only stand there, staring down at his son, the boy who looked so like him, who Luka lived inside those small gestures and familiar expressions. The rage was thick, tangible and all Kona could think to do was touch it.

But Ransom jerked away from his reaching hand, pushed Kona’s chest again and he knew what his boy wanted. It’s what he would want, what he always wanted when someone hurt him.

When the swing came, Kona closed his eyes, relaxed the muscles in his face to feel the full impact of his son’s fist.

“Say something, motherfucker!” Another swing, another stinging smart of Ransom’s knuckles against his jaw, and Kona opened his eyes, stared hard, anticipating. But his boy stopped; glare lingering, searching, eyes lowering to follow the small bead of blood in the corner of Kona’s mouth.

Ransom stepped back, lets his mother tug him away and Kona’s own anger brimmed forward, wanting more, needing more of that rage dealt against his skin.

“Come on, son.” Again he reached for Ransom, but only managed to touch his sleeve. “That all you got? Come on!”

Keira followed Ransom as he stepped away, one finger pointing at Kona, a warning he ignored.

“You don’t know me and you ruined my life.” Ransom’s kick against the piano bench cracked the wood, splintered it until the hinges broke and scattered worn sheet music under the piano.

Kona saw so much of himself, so much of Luka in his son’s manic anger; his fists upturning all of Cora Michael’s fine, useless figurines on the bookshelf, his shouts as he breaks the pictures of a woman he had never known. Keira was crying, hand over her mouth, looking helpless, scared and when she stepped forward, Kona guessed to stop their son’s outrage and aggression, he took her shoulders, kept her still against his chest when she tried jerking away from him. She didn’t want his touch, he knew that, but Keira was overwhelmed, clearly clueless how to stop this rampage.

“No. He needs this,” Kona told her. “He needs to get this out.” He hated how she leaned away from him, how she jabbed at his ribs, but he steadies her, holding her while Ransom’s fury was exhausted.

The boy decimated much of the living room, crying, shouting, knuckles, fingers bloody and the twin sensation of Ransom’s yelling and Keira's uncontrollable sobs had Kona’s eyes burning, had him holding onto Keira’s shoulders as though she was an anchor that would keep him from falling apart completely.

“Asshole running his mouth, talking about shit he knows nothing about.” Kona took the glare his son gave, closed his eyes against that fury only for a second when Ransom pointed at him. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me you piece of shit! And you still manage to ruin my life. You both…you both ruined my life!”

Kona didn’t expect Keira’s loss of control, didn’t catch her when she fell to her knees, hands over her face. She had never allowed Kona to protect her. She had taken that chance from him, but now he would, without her permission, without her asking.

Ransom lunged forward, eyes wide, wounded as though he’d stepped away from his senses. Kona remembered this; just like him, his boy wanted to lash out, he wanted to injure and he didn’t seem to remember that his mother had loved him, had made him her world for all of his life. So Kona reminded him.

He moved in front of Keira, ready to take whatever venom Ransom needed to spit at him. “She was protecting you, son. From me.”

“Good damn job she did!” Ransom was big for his age, but he still had some sense, still had some semblance of understanding that his father was stronger than him, that he wouldn’t let Ransom touch Keira. One step toward Kona, a glance at his mother and the boy retreated, hands held in his hair, eyes searching, itching for something to destroy.

And when Ransom spun away from him, stopped short and looked down at the guitar next to the leather sofa, Kona’s stomach dropped. Behind him, Keira’s sharp intake and immediate sobs, had Kona moving, speeding toward Ransom as he jerked the Hummingbird off of its stand. The instrument was up and over his head as Kona reached him.

“No.” The strings bit into his palm when Kona grabbed the neck. “Not this.”

Ransom’s breathing was heavy, eyes swollen, nostrils flared and Kona watched his quick intake of breath, the pants that moved over his open mouth. There was confusion in his son’s expression, but the anger ebbed away, a sluggish retreat, but it dampened as Kona pulled the guitar from his hands.

Just then, Kona saw what Ransom has been running from. He was a little boy, hurt, betrayed and masks it all with fury. Kona was familiar and the memory of that emotion, how quickly he could recall it, staggered Kona.

“She didn’t do this to you.” Kona felt the metal tang of blood from his bitten cheek. “I did this. Not her.”

His frown relaxed and Ransom stopped breathing, gaze flashing quickly from Kona, to Keira sobbing on the floor. He followed Kona’s movement, the cautious way he set the guitar back onto its stand and then his son’s anger left him, lost in the realization of what he’d almost done.

“Mom. Oh God…” Ransom ran to his mother, fell in front of Keira on the floor. He dwarfed her tiny body. Ransom covered her, concealed her in his large arms, she clung to his shirt as her sobs quiet. Ransom’s hold was tight, fierce as his kissed the top of her head, rubbed his hand down her back. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The moment was theirs; forgiveness given, taken without hesitation and Kona could only stare at them, amazed how his boy, and his Wildcat, held each other. He felt like a voyeur, an unwelcome witness to the healing they took from each other. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch them both, to interrupt this moment so that he felt what they shared, tasted a hint of what he’d never had, but he didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t speak. They amazed him. His family. His everything.

He was exhausted by the day, by the heartache that never seemed to be more than a reach away from him. Would this always be the way of things? Would their lives always be so consumed with guilt? With anger?

The stinging in his eyes was sharp, brutal, but Kona didn’t blink, didn’t try to make it disappear.

“You still here?” his son said, still holding his mother, covering her face so that Kona couldn’t see her expression. He understood the lingering anger. He certainly knew where that need to protect Keira came from and even though his son’s voice is bitter, his frown hard, Kona was grateful that Keira had Ransom. That she finally had someone protecting her.

“I don’t run.” Kona’s steps were slow, tentative, but he would not retreat. It’s not in him. “I don’t ever run.”

His voice seemed to bring Keira out of her heartache and she stood, pulling herself up against Ransom’s arms so she could look at Kona. “Why?”

It’s all she needed to ask. That look, that hurt, angry look she gave him was explanation enough. Last night he touched her, loved her and it had been the first time Kona had felt himself, had felt at ease in sixteen years. He drew on that sensation, the thrill and pleasure Keira moved in him, to calm his voice, to keep his heart from racing out of his chest.

“You know I didn’t do this.” Another step and Keira’s chin stopped wobbling. “I would never do this.”

“Then how?” Ransom asked, holding his mother’s arm as though he’s ready to move in front of her, maybe hold her back if she decided to attack Kona.

But his answer is for Keira. In one look—hooded eyes, mouth pinched tight—Kona stared at Keira, silently begging her to understand. Silently asking her to forgive him yet again. That drop of his stomach only dipped lower when her features shifted, eyebrows rising, and Kona knew Keira realized who was responsible.

She wins every time, Kona.

“It was his mother. Your grandmother.”

Her tone, that harsh inflection had Kona sick. He knew this would mean more than distance between him and his son. It would mean that the promises he made last night, the bridge he began to rebuild was burnt to embers by his mother’s one phone call.

His skin was slick with sweat, his forehead was clammy when he rubbed the spot between his eyebrows.

“She's never met me, she doesn't know me. Why would she care?” Ransom asked Keira.

“Because she doesn’t want him involved with us. That’s what she does. She interferes, she always interferes and it’s not ever going to stop.”

Kona snapped his head up, eyes her carefully. “Keira…”

He had no argument; could say nothing that would convince her he would protect them from his mother. But Keira was right. His mother would never stop interrupting his life, or trying to keep Keira out of it. Not unless Kona broke all ties to her. He had a choice and for him, it was easy: His mother or his family.

“I’m going to end this.” He told them. He was just feet from them and he wanted to touch them, to hold them, make them believe him. “I’m going to fix it all.”

Keira looked away, head shaking, but Ransom’s expression was calmer and Kona sees the flicker of hope on his son’s face. “How?”

“I’ll handle it.” Ransom’s mouth twitched and Kona thought he wanted to smile, wanted to believe that he wasn’t the weak asshole Ransom thought he was. Kona had missed everything; lost all those memories to his mother’s deception, to his own weakness. He would not lose more and he wanted his boy to know that, to understand that he would do anything to repair the damage done today.

Before Ransom could stop him, Kona was in front of him, his hand on the back of the boy’s neck, pulling him close. “I would never do anything like this to you. You’re my blood.” Palm easy, soft on his boy’s face, Kona lowered his voice, hoped his tone was sincere enough, honest enough. “You’re my boy and I love you. I’d kill for you, understand that. I’m your father and it’s my job to protect you and that’s what I’m going to do.” To his right, Kona saw the packed bags sitting next to the door and the thought of them leaving, either of them running, made him sick. “Please don’t leave.” He chanced a look at Keira, felt gutted by her frown, at that hopeless, defeated expression on her face. “Either one of you. Please. Let me fix this.”

“Can I go with you?” Ransom’s question came out of nowhere and Kona could only stare at him, mouth open, shocked.

Keira was immediately worried, and she pulled on her son’s sleeve, making him step away from Kona. “Ransom…no, you don’t want to meet that woman.”

And just then, Kona thought he saw a flicker of his twin; that slow smile, that easy grin, right there in his son’s features. “I think I have to.”

Kona stared at him, jaw working. It would be a shock to his mother to see this remarkable boy, to see the face of the life she tried to destroy. It would level her to see how she hadn’t broken him, how strong he was. In Ransom’s expressions, Kona saw determination, a fierceness he knew doesn’t come from him and he realized that there wasn’t much he could refuse his son. A quick nod and then Ransom smiled.

“No,” Keira said, giving up on convincing Ransom as he smiled, she took Kona’s arm, pulling, pleading with those worried eyes. “No, I don’t want…”

“Keira, you’ve been handling things for a long time.” A small graze of his hand against hers and she retreated. Kona buried his disappointment, pushing aside the need to grab her. “You don’t have to anymore. Please, let me carry this. It’s mine anyway.” When he tried touching her, she recoiled and that disappointment swelled, had his shoulders sagging. “Let’s go,” he told his son. “I wanna get this over with. We need to stop off at the bank.”

He needed to leave before Keira’s frown stopped him. He wanted this over with, this betrayal buried so he could start to rebuild whatever is left with Keira again. He waited by the door as Ransom whispered to his mother, as he kissed her forehead.

He was on the walkway, nearing Kona’s rental when Ransom caught up to him. “You sure about this, Kona?”

He’d never been surer of anything more in his life, but Kona stopped, looked down at his son with a grin pulling the side of his mouth. “Think they’ll ever be a day when you call me Dad?”

A small flicker of anger stuck in Ransom’s features; it softened and Kona thought his boy was waiting to see how this visit to his mother’s went. Those familiar features were guarded, gaze considering as Ransom eyed him. Then, his boy shrugged, continued down the walkway with Kona trailing after him. “Maybe. But you gotta earn it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

KONA

“YOU SURE, man? They want an exclusive.”

Kona rolled his eyes. His agent wasn’t thinking about Kona’s choices or the direction of his career. The man was worried about his commission and how much he’d lose once Kona walked away from the NFL.

“I’m sure. I said what I needed to. It’s done.”

There was a pause on the line and Kona popped his neck, waited for whatever tactic his manager would try to convince him to change his mind. Finally, Devon’s sigh echoes in the phone and he cleared his throat. “Kona, look, I had no idea that she’d done anything. I told you, she just called with a statement she said you wanted to make. Shit, I didn’t even know you had a kid. You were supposed to be training with the Steamers.”

“And I was. But damn, dude, you’ve known me what, ten, twelve years and you thought I’d say shit like that about my own blood?” Next to him in the passenger’s seat, Ransom scanned through his phone, his frown deepening with every message his read.

“I was shocked. Like I said, I didn’t know you had a kid so we were all kind leveled by that video and then your statement.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done. It’s over. I said what I needed to and have this last thing to handle.” Ransom’s frown only worsened and Kona tapped his son on the arm, pulling his phone away from his mouth when his boy looked up at him. “Stop reading that shit. It’s only gonna piss you off.”

“Kona?”

“I’m here, Devon.” He looked up at the Victorian, shaking his head when he saw his mother looking out of the front window. “I gotta go, man. You take care.”

The phone rattled against the cup holder when Kona threw it down and he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as he took a breath.

“You alright?” Ransom asked him.

“Yeah.” Another glance at the window and Kona bit his lip, relaxing a little when he didn’t see anyone looking outside. “What about you?”

A quick shrug and Ransom silenced his phone. “Just people talking smack. Fuck em, right?”

“You really need to watch your mouth.”

Ransom’s eyebrows lifted and then a shift of his top lip had that familiar grin surfacing. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. The radio changed to a news brief and Kona heard his own voice through the speakers. “You didn’t listen?” Kona moved his chin toward the nob when Ransom turned up the volume.

“I didn’t need to, man. You did this for me, trying to smooth this shit…” Kona lifts an eyebrow and Ransom grinned, “this crap over. Still, I wanna know how smooth you were.”

“I’m not taking any questions,” Kona’s recorded voice was stern, left no room for arguements. “I’m gonna tell you guys what’s on my mind and then I’m heading out.” Ransom’s gaze shifted to Kona, but it was just a glance before the boy stared down at the radio.

“Sixteen years ago I did something stupid.” A quick look at his son and Kona relaxed. That grin again, the one that is so familiar, made the tension in his chest fade. “I got involved in things that I had no business being around. It cost me a lot. It was my mistake that got my twin brother Luka killed.” Eyes closing, Kona breathed, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is on his son’s face. But in the darkness, something worse comes to him—Luka’s body in the middle of the street, his blood on Keira’s seats, on Kona’s hand when he reached for his twin. “I was very angry at myself for a very long time and I pushed everyone away.

“A few months ago, I discovered that I had a son.” He didn’t realize he’d started to bounce his knee, making his seat move, until Ransom tapped his leg, bringing Kona’s eyes back up to that grin.

“You good?” Ransom’s smile came easier, somewhat guarded as he stared at Kona, but he had relaxed.

“Yeah...”

“I discovered that I had been blessed to have a son that is talented, gifted, who had been raised by a woman I stupidly pushed away. That woman has raised an exceptional young man all on her own. It wasn’t easy for them. They’ve struggled. They’ve struggled more than anyone could possibly understand.”

Ransom’s smile was ridiculous, wide and when a brief blush moves over his cheeks, Kona looked away from him, giving his boy an excuse to return his attention to his phone.

“I am proud of my son. I’m honored to be his father. There have been people in my life that have twisted the facts of mistakes that have been made and lead you all to believe that I think my bright, extraordinary son is somehow damaged. He is not. Let me repeat that, just so we’re clear. He. Is. Not.”

It was the truth. Kona knew it, he wanted the world to know it. Elbows on the steering wheel, he stared at his hands, hoping that his efforts would make a difference, that he hadn’t allowed his mother to completely dismantle the work Keira had done to keep Ransom even, calm.

“The statement that was released earlier today did not come from me but from individuals who I am no longer associated with. Individuals that I will no longer be associated with ever again. I’ve had a wonderful career. I got to do what I love for a long time and I am thankful for the blessings and opportunities I’ve been given. But what I want today, isn’t a career in the NFL. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know my son and taking part in the brilliant, remarkable man he will become. Effective immediately, I am retiring. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring or where I go from here professionally. I only know that I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve got a lot of mistakes to make up for. That starts right now. Thank you.”

Next to him, Ransom snorted, that same grin was heavy, shifting into a full blown smile and Kona looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Dude. You got a man crush on me or something?”

Kona didn’t care that his laugh was loud. He only cared that his son was smiling, that his joke has calmed Kona and he believed that Ransom’s anger at him was gone. “Please, brah. I know you idolize me.”

His boy rolled his eyes, deflecting the small emotional peak between them by returning to his phone. Ransom’s smile fell, dropped completely before he threw his cell into his bag at his feet.

He wouldn’t ask the boy what happened, figured it was more shit his friends were giving him online, but when Ransom kicked the glove compartment, Kona reacted, tugged on his arm to get his attention. One eyebrow up was all the question he asks.

Ransom tried deflection, but Kona’s expression didn’t change and he stared at the boy, telling him with a look that he wanted an explanation.

“Emily’s dad won’t let her talk to me.”

“Because of all that shit?” Kona asked, nodding toward the radio.

The quick flash of his temper died at Kona’s question and Ransom’s seat squeakd as he moved around in it, uncomfortable. “Uh. No. That’s not it. He, um, found some texts I sent her. Some she sent me.” His voice was low, whisper soft and Kona didn’t get it. Didn’t understand the need for secrecy.

“Okay. So?”

“He said they were inappropriate.”

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything.” A tug on his hair and Ransom shifted again in his seat. “It’s what they showed that had him pissed off.”

Kona’s friends sent him stupid texts all the time. Jackasses pranking each other, shit getting blown up, half naked girls dancing, those he didn’t mind so much, but he had no idea what two kids could text each other that would make the girl’s father angry. He was sure his expression was stupid, nose wrinkled up, pinching as he wondered what Ransom was hiding, but then his boy tilted his head, rolling his eyes once more before he glanced right at his crotch and then back again to catch Kona’s eyes.

Oh shit, he thought, eyes widening at his son. “What did you do?”

“She sent me one first.”

Kona’s face was next to Ransom’s close, his voice low, fierce. “You do not send dick pictures to girls, Ransom. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What? She wanted to…”

“Hey,” he said, tapping the dumbass in the back of the head. “You don’t do that shit. You think you’re Brett Favre or something?”

“No, man, that dude doesn’t have anything on me.”

His frustration was instantaneous and Kona didn’t pull that emotion off his face. This boy had no clue, no idea what kind of offense something like this could muster. He knew Keira had taught him better, had made sure he respected women. He knew that Ransom wasn’t thinking, didn’t realize how immature, how inappropriate those texts were and the idea of his son doing something like this, boiled that frustration until he was angry.

For the first time since he’d known his son, Kona was pissed at him. “I don’t care what this girl says she wants, you don’t send anyone pictures of your sixteen-year-old dick. That’s not cool, brah.” He hated the look Ransom gave him. He hated more that the boy didn’t seem to understand where Kona’s anger came from. Closing his eyes, Kona scratched his chin, saying a small prayer, asking for calm.

“Shit,” he said, glancing at his son. “If Keira knew.” The shit storm would be epic and then, suddenly, Kona’s eyes round, his stomach droped when he thought of other things these two kids could have gotten up to. “Wait.” His voice was low as he leaned next to his son, but he didn’t pull back his frustration or his anger. “Did you…you and this girl…you…you know’d her?” His shoulders fell, back against the seat when Kona spotted that bright blush again. He was just getting past the things he’d missed in Ransom’s life. He told himself that missing potty training and first steps was no big deal; he’d be there for the really important things, but this? This was huge. This was more than Kona was prepared for. “What the hell? Keira will kick your ass.”

“You’re gonna tell her?” The boy’s blush was gone, replaced by the paling of his dark skin and the sheer horror that dropped his mouth open. Kona suddenly realized that Ransom’s breaths had slowed as he waited for Kona to answer. He was the boy’s father, true enough, but this was something he didn’t think he was ready to get in the middle of. Besides, Keira had dealt with enough shit. She didn’t need more.

“No. That’s on you. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t wanna know that shit.” His son moved his mouth closed and Kona caught the withheld breath he released, relaxing. Eyes shifting around the car, Kona shot for subtly, tried to not let on that his worry was cresting and his heart was pounding in his chest. Elbow on the armrest, he looked down at his boy. “Were you safe?”

“Of course I was. I’m not trying to be anyone’s daddy.”

“Neither was I.” The smile Kona gave Ransom let the boy know his father was messing with him. “I was much older than you are now and brah, I’m just wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m a father. I so can’t handle being a grandfather.” Ransom nodded, released a laugh that didn’t help to calm Kona’s thundering heartbeat. “This parenthood thing is stressful as hell.”

Already it had been overwhelming; more shit than Kona thought he could take in one day. He leaned back against the headrest, still shaking his head, shocked, still annoyed that his son had been so careless.

“Hey.” Kona slipped his gaze to his son, to the smile that had returned, moving his chin to acknowledge him. “You just earned it.”

Kona offered Ransom a smile and his attention returned to that house and the full blooms of flowers lining the walkway. Exhaling, he turned off the engine. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

***

He didn’t knock or ring the bell when he reached the door and he was unsurprised that his mother was sitting in her recliner, a crossword in her hand. Ransom was in the foyer, hanging out of sight when Kona waved him back.

Staring at her, Kona felt very little. Anger would be easy, and if he was the same person he’d been sixteen years ago, that anger would be fueling him now as he watched his mother’s eyes slip up. But he didn’t feel anger, not anymore. The fury he felt this morning when he left his lawyer’s office and caught the headshakes around him in reception, left him the moment he saw the grainy video of his son on television. He’d known his mother had played another card, and that anger had slipped from him. It left him again when he watched that video looping over and again on the screen. It disappeared completely when he watched Ransom and Keira playing the piano, voices sliding together perfectly.

His family; the only family he wanted.

Now, he felt nothing for his mother. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to hate her and part of him knew that he’d been indifferent toward her for years, when every bit of sage wisdom she gave him always seemed to benefit her. She’d encouraged him toward endorsements. She’d insisted that he hold out for more money in his contract negotiations, even though Kona didn’t really care about the money.

His mother’s gaze moved up, stare heavy over the rim of her glasses and she exhaled, a bored, slow movement that annoyed Kona.

There were deep wrinkles around her eyes, across her forehead and Kona realized that she looked older somehow, as though she’d aged in the few weeks since he’d last seen her.

Her gaze was calculating, slow as Kona stood in front of her. “You have anything to say because really, Mom, this is a level of shitty that is low even for you.”

Pursed lips and a sag against her chair made her look defeated, worn, but his mother still lifted her chin, still seemed determined not to cower. “You forced my hand, keiki kane.”

“Did I? Really?” A quick urge to slam his fist into the wall came to him, but Kona controlled it, grabbed the back of the sofa between his fingers.

“You know that everything I have ever done was to protect you.” She pulled off her glasses and set them on the table next to her recliner. “That girl is no good. You have had a great career because she wasn’t around to distract you. A family, Kona?” She waved her hand as though his son, Keira, is some sort of pathetic ideal of a real family and to her, Kona thinks, that’s what they were: pathetic, somehow not suitable, not real. “A life with her? No, son. It would have only set you off the course we have worked so hard for.”

“We haven’t worked hard for shit, Mom.” He breathed through his nose and his grip on the sofa tightened. “I have. It wasn’t you busting your ass in weight rooms or on the field. It wasn’t you sacking quarterbacks or trying not to get your ass handed to you by assholes who wanted to see if they could take down the giant. That was me. There was no we.”

His mother sat up straight, punched her fist against the arm of her chair as though she was insulted. “I pushed, Kona. I pushed you to succeed. Where would you be without me?”

“In Tennessee with Keira and my son. I might have been poorer but at least I would have been happy. I wouldn’t have been alone.”

“Kona, you’ve always had me.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t. I had Luka. I had Kuku. I had Keira and then like that,” he snapped his fingers,” I didn’t have any of them. I was left with you, doing whatever I could to make you happy.”

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and scoff, closing her eyes as though she needed to funnel in her patience, as though Kona was being simple, stupid. “This is pointless. It’s done. The boy will go back with that girl and you’ll go on to play again. It’s best that way.”

He noticed a small movement on her top lip, as though she was repressing a scowl and Kona watched her, eyes narrowing. He made her wait, considered those wrinkles, that hard set of her mouth as though she was awaiting a counter argument. But Kona only had one. “Ransom?”

His son stepped into the room, hands in his pocket and the moment his mother watched Ransom walk, saw his stature, his expression, she gasped.

“Kanapapiki!”

“No, Mom, I’m the son of a bitch.” His mother’s face was unguarded, expression exaggerated and he knew she was seeing what Kona had that day at the Market. She saw Kona at sixteen, maybe glimpses of Luka and the thought made Kona smile. The shock was there, right on her face, in her open mouth, in the rounded way her eyes widen.

“I wanted you to see him, Mom.” Kona stood, came to his boy’s side. Her shock was evident, and Kona thought there may be some remorse, a little hint of guilt that he recognized in her tightly held expression. But he didn’t have any sympathy for her. She had taken things too far. She had kept too many things hidden from him.

There would come a day, he knew, when he’d forgive her. Maybe he had already, but he would not see her after he left with his son through that door behind them. He had given his mother his life; let her take and take and insist until he was numb that it was what he really wanted, until her need had nearly destroyed everything Kona truly wanted for himself.

“I wanted you to look at my son’s face. It will be the only time you meet him.” She jerked her attention back to Kona. “This is the boy whose life you tried to ruin today. This is the face of your hatred. My boy. My blood.”

The envelope in his pocket felt like a weight and when Kona reached for it, offered it to his mother, that weight lifted, his fingers light when she grabbed it. His mother’s eyes were sharp, suspicious as she opened the envelope and immediately, her shock deepened, the disbelief covering her face.

“What is this supposed to be?”

“A payoff, Mom. My parting gift.”

She looked back down, eyes running over the check, to the large number, then down to the memo and he knows when she spotted it; the final insult he left her. Karma, payback, her own words twisted, right back at her.

“I am your mother, Kona.” Her stare was cold and she was trying, one last time to assert some sort of dominance, a control over him that she’d lost years ago. “You cannot just walk away from me. I can’t be bought. We’re family.”

“No. We’re not. Family doesn’t manipulate. Family doesn’t lie. This boy. This brilliant, beautiful boy is my family. So is Keira. She always has been no matter how hard you tried to destroy it.”

His mother threw the check to the floor, managing to stand with a speed that surprised him. “Kona, that haole will destroy your career.”

He stepped forward, but stopped from standing in front of her when Ransom tugged on his sleeve. His boy gave him the same calm Keira had always managed to do, and Kona smiled, comforted that he wasn’t alone in this small battle. “My career is over. I’m retiring and you, Mom, all you’re going to have left is that money. I hope it keeps you company.”

He expected Ransom to follow him and he was nearly to the door before he realized the boy hadn’t moved. A quick glance over his shoulder and Kona frowned, worried what Ransom would do, but he didn’t stop him, figured there was something his boy needed to say.

“Mikee Sibley tried to rape one of my friends. She was only thirteen. I threw him through a window.” Ransom tilted his head and Kona was reminded of his brother again, his strong, stubborn brother and all the arguments he’d had with their mother. Ransom stood with that same relaxed stance, the same side quirk of his head that was meant as a taunt, an easy riling posture meant to annoy. “I do shit like that when I’m trying to protect the people I care about.”

The sneer on his mother’s face twisted and she straightened her shoulders as though ready for an attack. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m not. You aren’t worth it.” Ransom stepped away, walked toward Kona, but turned to face her one last time, still calm, still relaxed. “If you’re what a grandmother is, then I’m happy I never really had one.”

They are out of the door and on the sidewalk before Kona looked at Ransom and he returned the smile his son gave him. He wouldn’t tell him, not yet, what the memo on the check said. It wasn’t important but Kona knew the words struck deep; that his mother felt their sting. Keira had, so had Kona when he discovered that biting insult his mother had given to her all those years ago. Somehow, though, Kona bet these were worse.

To fix Lalei’s lapse in judgment.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KEIRA

THERE WAS NEVER enough liquor in this house.

Keira drained the bottle, frowning at the drip from the neck, how it barely filled her second glass of Crown. It was down her throat, stinging with a lovely burn before the ice even rattled against the glass.

She wouldn’t cry. She refused. But this helpless feeling, the worry, consumed her. Alana, again. That foul woman had ripped to shreds what Kona had tried to build with Ransom this summer. The clock next to the buffet read midnight. Ransom hadn’t called, neither had Kona and Keira couldn’t help the crippling weight of what may have happened from consuming her.

Kona’s mother had her part to play in the heartache of the past. And now, sixteen years later, she was still dealing her hand; still eager to keep Keira from the happiness that was in her reach. Would the woman ever stop?

That pinch in her throat, the way it moved up her neck, how it tightened, pissed Keira off, until her eyes were stinging. The fear was too heavy, the weight of it making breathing impossible.

“No,” she said to herself, walking into the kitchen, pushing back bags and cards until she found the Scotch among the condolence gifts. Glendronach, single malt. Blake Shelton’s camp sent it over when news of her mother’s death reached Nashville. There were many others; sympathy cards, empty vases that had held flower arrangements, none of which Keira had found the time to toss away. Gifts given without the knowledge of Keira’s non-existent grief. Most barely registered. Except the Glendronach. That Shelton had damn good taste and was still happy about the song Keira wrote for him.

She didn’t even feel the burn as it slid down her throat. The stuff was smooth, crisp. She poured another glass, eager to drown the worry, to distract herself from glancing at the clock.

Keira had run from the domineering force of her mother’s expectations. She’d run away from the woman’s fists, her flat palms and landed in Nashville; she’d landed into safety and warmth and love. She had Ransom. He had become her salvation. Now that might be gone. Her haven. Her sanctuary and the past had come back. The past and his wide, beautiful shoulders; those strong, confident hands. Those words Keira suspected were pretty lies that Kona had rehearsed over the years.

The next sip is deeper, a gulp that Keira felt as she tried to dull the memory of Kona’s kiss, the promise of his lips, his tongue. The pain…she couldn’t take any more of it. Even if she wanted to.

She couldn’t go back. She wanted to. Sometimes, Keira needed to and maybe part of her forgot that the past wasn’t some rose-colored dream. Part of her buried down the reality; the memory of those days when she thought she might die from the loneliness. That part of her doesn’t bother with the way reality fell, with the proper order of who she was with Kona, of who she thought she’d never become.

She forgot that there were nights that he made her cry so hard her eyes burned and snot coated above her top lip. She forgot that the staggered way he looked at her could make her sigh, could make her stomach feel like it burned fire. She forgot that one touch could level her, freeze any notion she ever thought she had of good sense.

Kona had been her daydreams, he filled her nightmares and she watched herself from a distance, just a shadow monitoring the stupid, stupid things she’d do whenever he was around. And to him, she was just the same. All-consuming, a threat to anything he wanted his tomorrows to be. A lit match, barreling too close to that tantalizing fuse, waiting, panting with hungry anticipation for the ignition.

But she didn’t remember that, not at first. Not when she forgave him as she held her son in her arms.

She just remembered the way his mouth fit so perfectly against her neck when they slept in that too small dorm room bed. She remembered the way small sparks of light would kindle in his eyes—hungry eagerness, dangerous joy—when he’d set her temper off. He did it on purpose. She did. But a cyclone and a volcano aren’t supposed to connect. The results would be disastrous. It would be life altering and now she had to remind herself of the danger. She had to recall how all that passion bit into her, made her ache. How it nearly destroyed everything she wanted for herself.

That girl died sixteen years ago and on her deathday, the woman was born. She came into this world kicking, shouting, refusing to relinquish her youth, her freedom, but she came nonetheless. And so the woman pushed back the past. She purposefully forgot that her heart had never been fuller when Kona held it. She forgot that no one would ever make her smile, make her ache with belly laughter like him. She forgot that his touch was searing, soul shaking and that no other man alive would ever bring her that much joy. Not like that. Not like Kona.

The door closed, echoed against the low voices as Ransom and Kona entered the kitchen. Her son stared at her, eyes squinted as he shifted his attention to the bottle in front of her, then back to her face.

“Mom?”

A quick wipe against her face to dry it and Keira greeted her son, holding his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She picked up on how Ransom and Kona exchanged a look, how the big Hawaiian leaned against the doorframe, pretending to scan through his phone, giving Keira a moment with their son.

“You better now?” She didn’t like the dark circles that have formed under her boy’s eyes, how the day and its drama showed in his features.

“I’m okay. It’s done now and we’re cool.” Ransom moved his chin to the table. “What about you? You drinking for a specific reason?”

“I was nervous.” Ransom’s hair felt thick against her fingers as Keira brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Nothing to worry about, Mom, honest. We’re good.” Keira followed Ransom’s gaze as he nodded to Kona, as his father offered them both a tentative smile. “I’m beat, though. Gonna take a melatonin and crash.” He kissed Keira’s forehead, then leans toward her ear, voice low. “Don’t hold grudges, Mom. It’s freakin pointless.”

Her son tapped Kona’s shoulder, exchanged a brief farewell before he left the kitchen, leaving them alone, staring back at one another.

She couldn’t take the silence, the long seconds that filled awkwardness, uncertainty into the room and so Keira deflected, as is habit, returned back to the table and the numbing relief the Glendronach offered.

“That’s bad for you.”

She knew what he wanted. She knew that Kona would fight until he got her and she shuddered, realizing there wasn’t much fight left in her.

“Keira?” he said, standing at her side, looking down at her and the bottle in front of her. “What are you doing?”

She sat up, voice raspy, raw. “Drinking a bottle of forty-two-hundred-dollar scotch.” He settled next to her at the table, elbows on that smooth wood surface and Keira slid the bottle toward him. “You like this stuff, if memory serves. It’s old, around forty years.”

“Why are we drinking?”

Something about Kona broke her resolve. It always had and it’s no different now. She couldn’t hide anything from him. Those looks, the determined tone of his voice, stripped away her mask, completely shattered the hard veil that hid what she felt. The tears started, felt like an insult, but one more sip and she cleared her throat, lifted her chin to face him. “I’m tired, Kona.” She shook off his hand pulling on her fingers and moved her glass in front of him. She didn’t need the distraction of his touch. “Drink with me.”

He hesitated, quiet, considering before he held onto the glass. “Alright.”

Kona’s sip was long and Keira liked the stretch of his neck as he downed the drink, how his throat worked as he swallowed. Damn. Just him doing something so mundane as drinking had Keira hungry for a taste of him.

Eyes fluttering, shaking away the sensation, Keira pulled on the bottle, swigging from it like it was water and not burning whiskey. “I heard the press conference.” Kona’s stare was easy, but behind those dark eyes, Keira caught his focus, the steely gaze that told her he was thinking, considering her and the thought made her nervous, made her eager. “It’s good. Ransom needed that. You love him?” She knew the answer to that question, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted Kona to confirm that he had fallen for their son just as quickly as she had.

Kona’s mouth twitched as he fought a grin, but his nod confirmed what she already knew. “Of course I love him.”

“Funny how that happens, right? How sudden. How quick.” She tried for another swig, but Kona took the bottle, filled his glass again. “Never thought I could fall in love with someone I’d only know for a few seconds, but that’s how it was,” Keira said, closing her eyes at the memory of that day. God, Ransom had been beautiful as a baby. Huge pools of dark eyes, perfect brown skin. The moment she held him, Keira had been smitten. “They pulled him out of me, laid him on my chest and that screaming, swollen little thing just looked up at me like I had all the answers for him. I didn’t have a single one.”

“Keira, you worked miracles. He’s amazing.” Kona’s voice was sweet, soft and Keira heard the emotion it, the pride.

“I had help.” The sting in her eyes again, the frustration and fear, burning hotter than the throb in her throat and Keira did not care about Kona seeing her tears. She didn’t care that she looked weak, vulnerable in front of the one person she wanted to believe she was fearless. Pushing the glass away, Kona reached for her wrist, fingers closing around it and Keira could only shut her eyes against the sensation of his skin on hers. “Sometimes I think it’s all hopeless. Me, you, us together.”

“Why?”

Her skin flushed when Kona touches her face. “Because I thought I was too broken, that there was nothing left of my heart,” she said, covered his hand with hers.

Kona was at her side and he leaned over, stretched to kneel in front of her. She could hear his every move, feel every stare even if she was blind.

“What else do I have to do?” Kona’s breath was warm, smelled delicious with the smallest hint of scotch. That scent made Keira’s mouth water. Warm fingers back on her skin, Kona on his knees in front of her and his free hand on the back of her chair—a cage of his body, but one Keira didn’t retreat from it. “You are the most stubborn, bullheaded woman I have ever met.”

“I said sometimes I think that. Not always.”

That curious expression on his face was deep, confused and Keira heard her old self whispering, voice growing as Kona frowned, his low working growl fell over her and Keira let go, stepped back to let that girl she’d been running from surface.

“I just need to know. What do you want from me?” For a moment, he was shocked, as though the question was ridiculous, but Keira’s posture was easy, her breath came out smooth, calm and Kona’s small frown left his face.

“Everything. I want it all.” He had never looked at her the way he did then. Eyes so impassive, so steady, but beneath them there was heat, fire, and Keira swore she could feel it licking against her skin, kissing her with that sweet burn.

“Even if there’s not much left to give? Even if my heart is too damaged?”

Touch gentle, voice softer, Kona rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks and Keira was stunned by the bright sheen in his eyes. “Even then. Besides, it’s not too broken, baby. If it was, you’d be asleep in your bed, not bothered by everything that’s happened today. If there was nothing left, you wouldn’t have crumpled when our son went on a violent rampage. You wouldn’t have bothered to come see me in my hotel room.” Kona’s breath was sticky sweet, warm against her face. “You wouldn’t have touched me, loved me like you did last night.” She held her breath, heart strumming quick when Kona placed his palm against it. “This thing is bigger, healthier than you realize. I want to help you fix it. I want to spend the rest of my life fixing what I broke.”

Keira took a breath, said a small prayer for strength and looked back into Kona’s eyes. “Then I have to say something to you.” She sat up, moving his touch from her face. “I’ll say this once and then I won’t ever mention it again.”

They were both to blame, in all of this. The running, the fighting, the distance, they both held equal pieces in that fault. Kona nodded at her, folding his arms across his chest, stance defensive as he waited for her to say her peace.

“I deserved to be loved. I deserved for you to never stop loving me because I gave my heart to you. I put it in your hands. I trusted you with it. And Kona, you broke me. You broke me like I was nothing.” The slow blink he took tells Keira that his guilt hadn’t left him. She wondered if it ever would. “You took everything that was precious to me, everything that I held so close to me and you let everyone tell you it didn’t matter. You listened to everyone else and ripped my heart into shreds. You filled me up, made me feel what I didn’t think was possible and the moment I was the happiest, the very second I thought it would last, you ripped what I’d given you like it was nothing, as if my heart, my love for you was just thin paper that could be crumbled between your fingers.” The light glinted in Kona’s eyes, and the quivering of his chin belied his ability to contain his emotion, but Keira continued, needing to finish; needing him to know just how badly her heart had been shredded. “You broke me, Kona and if it hadn’t been for Ransom, for the small part of you that was left behind, I would have stayed broken.

Fingers in his hair, Kona looked around the room, searching for excuses, maybe grasping at reasons that would make sense to her. “I was a boy, Keira.”

“You were my world.”

“You said you forgave me. I don’t have the words and they wouldn’t mean anything to you. I could say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry a million times and they’ll still be words. What can I do?” He pushed back the chair until he was in front of Keira again, eyes pleading, desperate. “What can I do now for you to forgive me?”

“You don’t understand. This is what I’m telling you… I did forgive, Kona. I forgave you the second they put Ransom in my arms because your absolution was that perfect, precious soul. But I never forgot. I couldn’t. I had to learn my lesson. I had to remember what the ache felt like.” Keira gripped onto Kona’s arm, wanting him to understand. “I had to remind myself that when you love someone so completely, when they consume everything you are and then they leave? Well, it hurts too much. Who I was then is not who I am now. And if you want to love me, to really love me, you need to understand that. That girl is gone. She died a long time ago.”

She let him pace, work out the truth for himself as Keira slid back to her chair, pulling Kona’s half full glass of scotch in front of her. When he stopped, returned to his knees in front of her, Keira took a sip, eyes unfocused at the dark liquid in her glass.

“Look at me.” Keira looked up, let him take the glass from her. “I came for you. I came to fight for you. I told you I wouldn’t let you stay gone and I won’t.” Keira let a small sigh moved past her teeth when Kona brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I need you to know something. I need you to really know something that I’ve been trying to say to you for months. I need you to see that what I'm saying is real.” She let him move her head, holding it steady. “It’s been inside me for a long time, Keira. It’s been asleep, but it hasn’t ever died.”

He released her, and Keira could only manage to look at him, wondering what he’ll say, hoping it’s not goodbye.

“I think about all the fucked up things I’ve done in my life. I’ve disappointed so many people. I’ve made choices because I was selfish. Because I was greedy.” Kona rubbed the back of his neck as though those sins were too heavy to think about. As though the memory of them lay thick and full in his mind. “But even in those times when I thought I die from my stupid choices… when I thought whatever I was doing was just something I added to the long list of fuck ups, I saw your face. It was your face that got me through all that. It was your smile,” Kona’s fingertips were soft, tickle Keira’s cheek, “the spark in your eyes, the way your fingers raked over my scalp, the way your body felt so real, so perfect in my hands, that kept me centered.

“But you cursed me, Wildcat. You told me I would regret letting you walk away and I did. Every day since you said that to me. I didn’t forget. Not when I was drunk on money and bitches and all the bullshit they threw at me to keep me happy.” The stinging returns to her eyes and Keira knew it wasn’t from the loss she felt. “I couldn’t forget you.” He touched her face again, thumb back on her cheek, smoothing away the moisture there. “Your face, your name, your smile, it was here,” he touched his chest, just over her tattoo. “It’s lived here for so long and I tried to kill it. I tried to run from that curse. I tried to forget that there was a girl with big blue eyes and a laugh like a fucking song that had gotten under my skin. I tried to forget that I loved her. I tried to deny that I hadn’t ever stopped. But I can’t. I don’t want to.”

That wild, manic girl sang to her, told her that she can have it all, take back everything that once made her feel real and loved and brave. She didn’t fight Kona, didn’t jerk away from him when he kissed her head, wiped her face dry.

“You said we were so bad for each other and maybe you’re right. Maybe time is what we needed. To be apart from each other, to learn ourselves before we could have each other for good. But I’m done waiting.” His chest was inches from her nose and Keira inhaled, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from kissing against the peek of skin visible from the opened button of his shirt. “I’m done trying to kill something that was never meant to die. I’m done trying to wipe you out of my heart. It’s no good.”

Kona had touched her so many ways. There has been anger, passion, the grip and pull of his hands on her body, of his knuckles inside her and Keira loved them all; even the threat of danger, of violence. She expected that to return. She didn’t expect him to be calm. But as Kona reached for her, moved her chin up so she is forced to look at him, she saw that determined expression that told her he wanted her attention, wanted her to look only at him, wanted only him. His fingers were sure, certain, but gentle: a plea rather than the demand. This time, when he took her face, he asked for permission. He didn’t take anything.

“I want you today and tomorrow and every day after that. I want to roll over in bed every night and know that you’re there, right where you’re supposed to be. I want babies,” he closed his eyes as though the idea was sweet, precious, “a thousand damn babies with you and I want to watch you get fat and miserable with me inside you, Keira. I want first steps and first words and for someone to call me Daddy.

“I want all those years to disappear in every second I spend with you for the rest of my life and I won’t let you tell me that it’s not enough. I won’t let you believe that we are still bad for each other.” His voice grew louder, his touch became firmer. “I don’t care if we are because you make the bad fade away. You always have. You always will.”

“You think it’s really that simple?”

“Damn right I do. It’s very simple. I love you. You love me, let’s stop fucking around and get on with our lives. Everything that happened, all the lies, all the disappointments, all the years we wasted… we’ve got to let that shit go. Time to move ahead. Together. Me and you, Wildcat. Just me and you.”

Kona’s words were like a spell, weaving hope, eagerness into her. She let him kiss her forehead, pepper kisses over her face. Until her tears were full, brimming over her lashes and onto her face.

“The other night… you asked me.” She looked up at him, then back down at her hands. Tears flowing. “You asked me how long it’s been.”

“I did.”

“Too long, Kona.” Keira thought shame should come, maybe embarrassment, but it didn’t. If Kona wanted honesty, if he wanted her raw, then she’d spill all her secrets, give them to him one last time. “Ten years.” His eyes widened, mouth opened. “I tried once. Only the one time.” Keira dried her face, shaking her head at herself. “I got drunk. Went to a bar and ran into a friend of mine. This guy I knew from the Bluebird. He was a good man. He was sweet and I just wanted to forget that I had a kid at home that needed so much from me. I wanted to forget that I was alone. That I had been alone so long. I… I slept with him… I slept with him and cried the whole time.”

When that flame shot over her cheeks, Keira covered her face, driving out the memory of that man and how helpless he looked when every time he kissed her, touched her, she jerked, twitched as though she couldn’t stand to feel him against her skin. But she made him continue; she replaced his long, thin fingers, a guitarist’s fingers, with wide hands and big knuckles. She pretended that it was Kona touching her, loving her and when that failed to calm her, she’d let the tears comes.

“Keira…”

Head lowered, Keira threaded her fingers together, stared at the chipping paint on her fingernails. “I’m gonna need your help, baby. You’re gonna have to remind me how to love you again.”

“I will. We’ll figure it out together.” Kona stood, pulled Keira up so he could take her hair between her fingers, so his mouth was closer to hers. “We were kids when we loved each other. We were fire and passion and obsession. You were right about that.”

“And now?” She held her breath waiting for his words. Keira ignored the voice telling her this was pointless, that what she’d tried to bury should stay in the past.

“Now we’re whole. Now we’re thick, so thick, baby that we can’t breathe.”

The fear was still present, still bit into her limbs. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Then we just need to hold onto each other.” Kona’s kiss was brief, too fleeting and Keira had to hold herself still, keep from following him when he leaned away from her. “Remember what you said to me once? ‘I don’t want easy. I want impossible. I want love so thick, I drown in it.’” Kona nuzzled her nose, rested against her forehead with that breath, that warm, tingling heat fanning against her face. “Keira, come drown with me.”

The delay was brief, a moment that shifted the breath on her skin, that fractured any lingering doubt from her mind. Kona Hale was her always. He was her past, the part of herself Keira thought she could forget. But as she stared at him, as he waited for her answer, a small gesture that made his features relax, Keira realized that there was no hole deep enough, no grave dark enough that could keep their love dead. It hadn’t died, not really. It went untended, untouched for sixteen years, but it always remained tethered, always took up space in her broken heart. Now it filled the spaces of that dead muscle, it inflated the withered bits left weak by the past, by the punishment Keira had forced upon herself for years.

Now it was large and beating, shuddering and wild.

And it belonged completely to Kona.

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t say “yes” or “I love you.” Keira simply lifted closer to him and kissed Kona like it is the first time. He took that kiss and Keira smiled against his mouth, loving the sweet groan he released and then, Keira kissed him harder, surer, pulled herself around him, arms on his neck, legs around his waist, tongue working in his mouth so fierce, so quick that Kona staggered back, falling against the wall.

“Baby. Jesus.” Kona’s chest was beautiful, strong, moved quickly as Keira popped open his shirt, untucked it. His hands were everywhere all at once; on her hips, down her thighs, pulling down her thin yoga pants, cupping her.

“Oh God, Kona.” Keira managed a breath, a small break from his mouth before he slipped his fingers inside her. “Wait… oh… let’s… let go to my room.”

“No,” he said, two fingers now moving in her center, straight to that sweet knot he’d always loved to tease. “I need you now…against…against the wall.” Keira’s eyes rolled up, her shoulders shook when Kona attacked her neck, nibbling up to her ear. “I don’t wanna wait. Not anymore.”

A flurry of limbs, quick, wild groans, fingers moving, mouths sucking and before Keira could register what was happening, Kona slid into her, body raw, hot against her, his wide dick moving easy, smooth, over and over.

“Say you’re mine, Keira.” He thrusted, moved her hips over him, fingers digging into her skin. But she couldn’t speak, could barely manage to keep hold of his shoulders. “Tell me, baby.” Another thrust that had Keira trembling and Kona turned them so that Keira’s shoulders moved against the wall.

“Yours…only yours.” She clenched against his dick and smiled at the way Kona moved his head, how he squinted at the sensation. “I’ve always been yours.”

Kona broke her heart once. But it was Keira that left the remains tattered and frayed inside her. With his touch, his body, his brilliant, blinding love, he pulled it back together.

“I love you, Wildcat, so much I can’t breathe.”

She smiled against his mouth, rocked into his body as he moved. “Then stop trying. We’ll…God…we’ll be breathless together,” she said, stroking her fingers over his heart and Kona paused, expression open, sweet.

His fingers were large, and when he slipped his palm over hers, Keira’s hand disappeared. “Together, baby. Always.”

EPILOGUE

KONA

August, 2015

Claiborne-Prosper University, New Orleans

RANSOM WAS BETTER THAN KONA. At everything. He was bigger, stronger and at eighteen, as a freshman at CPU, his boy was about to play his first game. No redshirts. No year of ineligibility.

Kona didn’t know who was more nervous; him, walking up and down the sidelines in his coaching garb—Blue Devils cap and polo; or Ransom bouncing on the balls of his feet a hundred yards away from him as their offense tried to earn a few points.

It could have been Keira who had the most frayed nerves. Kona turned around, squinted through the crowd until he spotted his wife. She was gorgeous, lit up with a glow that had nothing to do with game day excitement. It was that baby; the one that rounded her belly, the one she held with her arms around her stomach.

Kona smiled watching her, loving that he could see her eyes all the way from the sidelines. And when she stared back at him, gave him a wink, something twisted in his chest. It always did anytime she looked his way. It was habit, him moving his hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. “Yours,” he silently told her and he got a little flustered when she returned the gesture, moved her hand over her heart. “Yours,” she mouthed.

The moment was wrecked, interrupted by the fussing two-year-old on her lap, that bushy haired boy who looked just like his older brother, acts too much like Kona. Little Koa spilled his drink and Keira rushed to clean up his mess, her cousin Leann at her side, hurrying to sooth the boy. She waved Kona off, nodded to the sideline and he followed her direction, saw Ransom sitting on the bench, knee bouncing.

“Brah, you alright?” Kona asked his son and they both turned when the whistle blew, when CPU took a penalty and the ball returned to LSU.

“Shit,” Ransom said and Kona tried not to laugh at him. The kid had been worked up for a month, worried how he’d perform at his first game.

The defense was summoned, return for their turn on the field, but Kona held Ransom back, pulled on his mask to get his boy to look at him.

“You got this, son. Just do your best.”

Ransom looked down, frowning. “That shadow, Dad. It’s freaking big.”

Kona took Ransom by the collar, hoped his voice is easy, calm. “Son, it’s just a shadow. Time to make your own.”

And Ransom took the field, running toward something Kona remembered, taking on his path with his eyes wide open. When the line formed and his boy immediately ran through two offensive linemen and headed straight for the quarterback, easily sacking him hard, Kona joined the rest of the crowd, jumping up and down.

Kona’s attention immediately returned to Keira, to her hands over her mouth, that wide smile again. That beautiful woman loved him. She loved him in whispers, in lyrics and rhyme. Keira loved Kona with a fierceness that rattled him, only hurts when she pulled away. She’d stopped running, stopped fighting the ghosts of the past and the guilt they used to cripple her. And when she stopped, when she let Kona hold her, love her and believed that he meant it, their life began. It would continue. Kona knew the only time love really dies is when we stop trying to revive it.

Keira and Kona, they never would.

THE END

MY BELOVED - A THIN LOVE NOVELLA EXCERPT

Kona was her perfect.

He snored. Sometimes, he left the toilet seat up and he always kept his massive shoes right next to the bed. Keira had broken her pinkie toe twice because of them. Kona was not perfect, but he was her perfect.

She loved the long, large planes of his body, the way his naked chest brushed her chin as he moved over her. She loved how he arched his neck, how he always held onto her, gazed down at her as he took her.

And Jesus, how she loved when he did that.

“Knees up, baby.” His voice was shaky, raspy, and that smile, that irresistible smile that Keira had learned decades before would be trouble, was still beautiful, still meant only for her. That smile grew even wider when she lifted her legs and pulled his hips closer.

“Like that?” Her eyebrow came up and she felt her cheeks ache when his tempting smile faltered, wavered under the strength of her movements.

Kona gripped the pillow above Keira’s head, grunting as he thrust harder into her, pushing her deeper into the mattress.

“Yeah… shit, yes, baby, just like that.”

She would never be tired of them together, him inside her, the way he looked at her, the soft whisper of her name flitting off his lips as he climaxed. Their bodies sounded like music, coming together, skin damp, fingers nimble, eager as they touched each other. She’d missed this. He had only been gone a week this time and still her body missed his so much. It was all she could do to keep her pulse from bursting through her skin.

His arms shook, elbows trembling and Keira knew he would not last long. The nights had been too many and he’d missed her, too, had ached for her body while he was away on his latest temporary assignment with ESPN. She’d barely opened the door before he had her naked and flat on her back.

A quick kiss and she moved, pushed Kona over and on to his back against the large mattress, climbing over his lap, knees against his hips as she rode him. He fit his fingers around her waist but didn’t guide her, didn’t show Keira how to move. She knew already.

“Christ, you are beautiful, Wildcat.”

And she did feel beautiful, just then, with her back arching as he filled her, Kona’s hand cupping one breast, his low, awed words whispered into the dark room as she took him harder, deeper. She always felt beautiful with Kona. Every second she was with him, when he touched her, when he kissed her, even when she pretended to be asleep as he watched her. Keira felt like the most beautiful woman on earth, but that was Kona. That was what he did to her. She’d been without him for so long that just a few months of them together again, learning each other, planning a life, a future with their son, with more children that he begged her to have, felt like moments compacted, pressed together in something no one had a right to feel. The years of loneliness had disappeared in four short months and Keira and Kona were finally there together, the past misplaced in the happiness their new lives brought them.

Now Kona was pulling on her hips, urging Kiera to move faster and she took his invitation, feeling the swell of aching pleasure as it tingled through her whole body, down her legs to her feet, from her hips, straight from her core and she came around him, loving how hard he held her, how his grip was fierce, eager as he followed her in his own climax, and then spent, pulled her down to him.

Cheek against his chest, Keira smiled, ready to purr when he rubbed her back, kissed her forehead. Kona’s long sigh moved against her bangs and he rested his hand on the center of her back.

“Never. Leaving. Again.”

“Uh huh.” She rolled off him, stretching against the soft cotton sheets as Kona ran his fingers along her stomach. “That’s just post-coital talk, Hale. You’ll leave again when they want you commentating on another game.”

“Nope. I made a decision.” One quick jerk of his hand and Kona swung Keira back on top of him, pressure tight on her back so she could not move away. “I’ve decided that Ransom can stay with Leann and you and I will live here, right in this bed for the rest of our lives.”

He frowned when she rested her chin against his chest, trying not to laugh. “Leann would kill Ransom inside of a week and you and I would starve.”

“We’ll live off love.”

Keira rolled her eyes, swatted his hand away when he tried keeping her still. “You eat way too much for that to fill you up.”

“You’re the one that fills me up, Wildcat.” There was a slow tingle of pleasure that ran down her spine as Kona pulled her up his body so that their mouths were inches apart. “I get full on you every day, baby.”

Keira couldn’t laugh at him then. She couldn’t take that smile off his face or resist the slow slide of his lips against hers.

Can you die from too much contentment? Keira knew better than to ask that. The universe had a way of fracturing anything she might want for herself. Even all those years ago, after she left New Orleans with Ransom swelling her belly, after she first walked away from the only life she had known, from Kona, and set about trying to figure out motherhood on her own, Keira spent most days waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d watch Ransom as a baby sleep for hours, just to make sure his tiny, infant chest continued to rise and fall. Every gurgle scared her, every sigh had her convinced she couldn’t take her eyes from him even for a moment.

When you are so used to bad being intrinsic to your life, then you expect the shoe dropping. Sometimes, you count the seconds before it does. Even when it doesn’t.

“Stop thinking,” Kona said. He always did that—guessed when she was worrying about things that may never come. Keira closed her eyes as he rubbed his thumb between her eyebrows. “You have this tiny little line that dents right here when you start that bullshit worrying.”

“You saying I look old, Kona Hale?”

“No. Not too old… ow!” She rolled off him and darted into the bathroom before he could retaliate from her projectile pillow aimed right at his head. “You’re beautiful and you know it.” His voice was muffled behind the bathroom door as Keira tidied herself up, trying to keep the smile off her face. Most days lately, she found that impossible to do.

“Again, post-coital compliments, jackass.” She shook out her hair, splashed cold water over her face and neck before she returned to the bedroom. “You know, I don’t think…” but Keira was talking to herself, or at least the empty room. “Where’d you go?” she shouted toward the open door.

The rich scent of coffee came into the room and Keira’s mouth watered. She gave in to a fleeting thought that Kona would bring her a cup as she rubbed her hands over her naked arms. The late November chill had already set into the house, the sharp bite of wind kicking off the lake cooling the air before the temperatures dropped.

She wrapped the down cover over her shoulders, then pushed it back to fetch Kona’s white button up off the floor. It fell to her thighs as she pulled it onto her shoulders and Keira bounced against the mattress, buttoning the shirt before she noticed something square pinching against her butt. Reaching back, she gripped the corner, pulled a hardback copy of Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved from underneath the duvet.

Kona tended to read non-fiction or horror novels—he was currently obsessed with Joe Hill and Kealan Patrick Burke—but he hadn’t been there the night before to read in bed before sleep, and hadn’t even bothered with his luggage before he was on her, so a book being on the bed made no sense.

Until Keira opened it.

It took three full seconds for her brain to make sense of what she saw when she pulled back the cover. She expected to see her worn, dog-eared copy of the novel with its fraying pages from the number of times she’d read that book. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. That wasn’t what had the air stilling in Keira’s lungs.

“Oh God.”

The pages had been glued together and a small square, just big enough for a ring box, had been cut into the center. The book was opened to page 164 and the highlighted text of Morrison’s words lined the top of the square.

Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.

Keira hated that her eyes burned, that the small gesture, those words, could cripple her so easily. The words were theirs, a brief quote that defined what Keira and Kona needed from each other. They were the vows of two kids who had no idea what real love was. But those lines had stuck, they said everything about who Keira and Kona were to each other, who they’d always be.

Kona slipped up behind her, his arms around her waist before Keira could lift her fingers to the velvet box in the center of the page. Blinking, she couldn’t quite believe what she was looking at. That black box meant so much, it meant forever, yet even now that part of her that waited for the other shoe to drop wouldn’t let go of the expectation of disappointment. She tried to clear it from her mind. She tried to hope for the question she knew Kona wanted to ask, but that negative, niggling voice remained loud, persistent. It told her not to expect anything.

“I’m sixteen years late,” Kona said, moving the hair off her shoulder. He smelled mildly of sweat with the slightest hint of coffee on his breath. Keira wouldn’t have cared if he smelled of moth balls. He pulled her tight against him, sliding his hands under hers to take the box away from the book, lifting its velvet lid. “I wanted to do this a long time ago, baby. Every day since the second I realized I loved you.”

A quick jerk of her head, a glance over her shoulder and Keira’s vision was blurred by the burning moisture in her eyes. She couldn’t speak, didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She didn’t know if she’d be capable of much more than a nod of her head.

When Keira only continued to blink at Kona, silent, eyes rounding, he took the ring from the box and gently pushed it onto her finger. Her eyes followed the movement, but she was still left dumb, too shocked to make any coherent thoughts organize enough to form speech.

“Be my always, Keira?” What he said was simple. It was sweet. It was Kona saying little and meaning so much with four insignificant words. Separately they were nothing. Together, they held everything that they could ever hope to be.

She’d never heard him speak so gently. She’d never seen Kona sit so still, but his voice was small, so unlike the huge man he was. His expression was guarded, anxious and it took her several moments before she realized he expected an answer. Still she could not move, waiting for it all to vanish.

Then, Kona blew a breath past his lips and his grip around her waist tightened. “Baby, you gotta say something before my heart beats out of my chest. I’m holding my breath here.”

Keira’s throat felt raw and sore, she cleared it and finally glanced down at the ring, a beautiful square cut diamond on a simple platinum band that sparkled against the lamp light.

At last she managed to speak. “I only have one question.” She brought her gaze back to Kona, spotted the way his eyebrows moved up, as though he wasn’t sure what she’d say. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this my signed copy?”

Keira watched Kona’s eyes moving across her face, at first confused, but then he must have realized what she was saying and his mouth relaxed as a smile inched against his lips and he released his held breath. “Do you think I’m crazy? I like my balls right where they are.” When she arched one eyebrow at him, he laughed, moving her around to face him. “Second hand bookstore in Atlanta. I know better than to mess with your books.”

No one had ever loved her like Kona. He had shown an introverted eighteen-year-old what passion was, how it could fill you up, make you soar. He had given her laughter and love and as much of himself as he could, when he couldn’t give her his all. He had given her Ransom. She knew she could spend a lifetime looking into those dark eyes, kissing those soft lips and it would never be enough.

“Well?” he said nudging her with his hand. “What do you say? You wanna marry me, Wildcat?”

“Yeah.” She erased the doubt, the dread from her mind. It didn’t belong there anymore. “Okay.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’m going to forget someone. I know it. If you are that someone, please know that the exclusion is not on purpose. I’m old now and forgetful.

For S., the greatest, most loyal friend I’ve ever had. You let the dragon take you, but I still love you. My heart breaks for all beauty you never got to see.

Thank you to Angela McLaurin and Steven Novack for making this book pretty. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Chelle Bliss for being such a great support and for those beautiful headers. Your Tater Tot loves you big.

Sharon Browning, thank you for your friendship, for your encouragement and for always listening to my insane, likely frustrating ideas. Nothing I write would make even the slightest sense if you didn’t edit and make my rubbish shiny. Love you, lady!

Penelope Douglas, Lila FREAKIN Felix, Chelle Bliss, Ing “Hooker” Cruz and Sarah “Hooker” Leal: I love you all to levels that are mildly manic and scary. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your love, support and most especially your friendship. You’re all the bright, shiny glitter sparkling my gray world.

To my betas and “sweet” team: Karen Chapman, Trish Leger, Judy Lovely, Leighanne Sisk, Jessica Shamburger, Emily Gould, Heather McCorkle, Janette Mapp, Carla Castro, Naarah Scheffler, LK Westhaver, Lorain Domich, Melanie Brunsch, Michelle Horstman-Thompson, Laura Agra, Allyson Lavigne Wilson, Emily Lamphear, Chanpreet Singh, Heather Weston-Confer, Betsy Gehring, Sammy Llewellyn, Dr. Risie Preston-Llaneta, Christopher Ledbetter and K. Imani Tennyson: You are the most amazing, generous, supportive people I know. I am so very blessed to have you in my life. I’m so calling dibs on each of you in the event of Z day.

To all you awesome bloggers who spread the love and support and encourage me, I thank you for the bottom of my heart, especially Love Between the Sheets (http://www.readlovelust.com) and Book Drunk Blog (https://www.facebook.com/bookdrunkblog). You guys are amazing!

Vania Stoyanova, I adore you to pieces! Thank you for everything. To my “real job” buddies Marie, Sherry, Barbra B., Sarah and Kalpana, thank you so much for coming out to see me and encouraging me every day.

Thank you to Shey Houston of Shey's Book Cave (https://www.facebook.com/sheysbookcave) for being such a wonderful friend. You make my heart very full. To Amy Butler, Jodi Linton, Erin Noelle Garcia, C.C. Wood, Jan Meredith, Kele Moon, Kellie Coakley, Jessica Lee Prince, Brenda Rothert, Crystal Jordan, Nicole Flockton, Heather McCorkle, Trish Leger and Amanda Lanclos for supporting the Thin Love release. You ladies are amazing!

To my very favorite Hawaiian Demon Wizard, Kimo Hickman, for all the details on the Polynesian culture and language, thank you, friend. Please stop using your wicked juju to beat me at Words. Cheater.

Tracy Clark, oh my God, do I love you. You are the bestest of the besties.

Kele Moon, this is all your fault. I can’t say thank you enough. It’s time, lady. The world needs Kai.

To my CHPP, aka, my bints, especially Amy Bernstein-Feldman, Lisa Bennett, Leighanne Sisk and Judy Lovely: there are no words. None. You know my heart…it’s where you all live. You do realize The Lovely is the only one of you I’ve snogged in two years. This needs to be remedied.

Melanie Brunsch, you are adorable and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your road trip and your immense support. You’re a rock star, lady.

To my readers, thank you for loving Declan and Vaughn and Donovan and now Kona with such fierce passion. If it weren’t for you, I’d never be able to write a word. You are making my dreams come true.

To my biggest, loudest cheerleaders Kayla Jagneaux, Jennifer Jagneaux and Joy Chambers, thank you for giving me blackmail material. If you weren’t my blood, I’d still stalk you and force you to be my friend. I love you knuckleheads! Juli Jagneaux-Wright, can I be like you when I grow up? I love you!

To my mom who will be glad to know there isn’t a single “horny, Irish boy” in this book. I love you! To my sister Tricia – I hope you chase your happiness. I hope you grab hold of it and never let it go. God knows you deserve it. To my sweet brother, Timmy, who will never, ever read this – I hope you know there isn’t a sister alive prouder than I am of you. You’re my spiritual center and the counselor I actually listen to.

Jay Lake, the world is gray, dreary and boring without your bright light in it. God, how I miss you.

To the past. You taught me lessons. You showed me that friendship can be retrieved among the ashes. Thank you.

To my girls, Trinity, Faith and Gracie, thank you for all your unconditional love, for cheering me on when I thought I couldn’t possibly write another word and for being the clever, generous, beautiful girls you are. I’m very, very proud to be your mum.

To Chris, my Himself, my always, whose love was never, ever thin. Without you, there is no me.

If you or someone you love is struggling with steroid addiction, seek help at Recovery.org (http://www.recovery.org/topics/find-a-reputable-steroid-addiction-recovery-hotline/).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eden Butler is an editor and writer of Fantasy, Mystery and Contemporary Romance novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum.

When she's not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden patiently waits for her Hogwarts letter, edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.

She is currently living under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.

Please send help.

Find Me on Goodreads

Visit her Blog

You can subscribe to Eden’s newsletter for giveaways, sneak peeks and various goodies that might just give you a chuckle.

@EdenButler_

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Throttle Me Copyright © 2014 Chelle Bliss

Published by Chelle Bliss

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published by Chelle Bliss on March 30th 2014:

Editors Tee Tate & Editing720

Cover Design © MG BookCovers & Designs

Formatting by Chelle Bliss

Cover Photographer © Eric Batterhsell Photography

Cover Model Burton Hughes

This book is intended for a mature audience only.

ALSO BY CHELLE BLISS

~MEN OF INKED SERIES~

THROTTLE ME (CITY & SUZY) Book 1, 2014

HOOK ME (MIKE & MIA) Book 2, 2014

RESIST ME (JAMES & IZZY) Book 3, 2014

UNCOVER ME (THOMAS & ANGEL) Book 4, 2015

WITHOUT ME (ANTHONY & MAX) Book 5, 2015

HONOR ME (CITY & SUZY) Book 6, 2016

Men of Inked Books 1-3 Boxset

~ALFA PI SERIES~

SINFUL INTENT (MORGAN & RACE) Book 1, 2015

UNLAWFUL DESIRE (FRISCO & GEORGIA) Book 2, 2016

WICKED IMPULSE (BEAR & FRAN) Book 3, 2016

The ALFA PI series is a spin-off of the Men of Inked series!

~STANDALONE BOOKS~

ENSHRINE (BRUNO & CALLIE), 2016

REBOUND NOVELLA (FLASH AKA SAM), 2015

TOP BOTTOM SWITCH (RET & ALESE), 2016

DIRTY WORK (JUDE & REAGAN), 2016

MANEUVER (SMITH & MADDY), 2016

To learn more about Chelle’s book visit chellebliss.com

WARNING…

This book contains graphic sex and profanity.

Throttle Me is as dirty as it sounds. This is not a sweet romance with a clean cut hero that woos the girl.

This book is filled with sex… lots of sex. Profanity is used often. How often? A FUCKING lot.

So please - if this doesn’t sound good to you, please hit exit.

You’ve been warned.

1

THE DARKNESS

SUZY

THE MOONLIGHT FILTERED through the pine trees lining the fields, leaving shadows on the pavement. The crisp air that had been missing for months caressed my skin. Cranking up the radio, I sang along to Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body.” It was just the cool breeze, JT, and me. I couldn’t wait to crawl in my bed and close my eyes, getting lost in a dream world that had nothing to do with my current reality.

The night had been perfect. I’d had dinner and drinks with my best friend, Sophia, and although I was exhausted from a long workday, I felt a sense of serenity. Spending time with Sophia always made me happy. She was like a sister to me, especially when she had lived with me for over a year. I felt like part of me had been missing since the day she moved out, leaving me behind.

Dancing in the seat, screaming out the lyrics, I thought about how I wanted someone that would do everything the song described. No one had ever made me feel the way that JT sang about women. The steering wheel shook in my hands and a screeching sound pulled me out of my JT trance.

“Damn it,” I said, hitting the steering wheel with my palm.

The orange flash from my hazards blinked against the dark pavement as I pulled off the road and my car sputtered to a stop. Bad luck seemed to follow me. I squeezed the steering wheel, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I knew the day would come, the day my car would die, but I prayed it would happen after my next paycheck…no such luck.

Resting my head on the wheel, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Great, just fucking great.” I rocked back and forth, feeling sorry for myself, hitting my head on the cool plastic. I thought about whom to call or where to walk. I hadn’t passed a gas station or even a damn streetlight in miles. Without picking up my head, I reached for my phone, bringing it to my eyes.

“Shit.” The screen wouldn’t power on after I hit every button I could think to press. It was useless. It was dead and now I was totally stranded. What else could possibly go wrong? Sighing, I sat up and glanced in the rearview mirror, but only the shadows from the trees filled my view. No cars, neon signs, or streetlights. Fuck.

I placed my hand on my chest to feel the beat of my heart, which was so hard I swear it was audible. Visions from slasher movies flooded my mind. Girl deserted on the side of the road until she’s found by a handsome stranger that ends up being a serial killer.

Should I start walking to God knows where? Do I just sit there and wait for a stranger to offer me help? I never liked feeling helpless—I was too smart to be helpless, but it was the only thing I felt in this moment. It could be hours before someone found me in my car.

I grabbed my purse, dead phone, and keys, and climbed out of the car. My feet ached in the extra-high heels I wore. Leaning against the car, I gave my feet a moment to adjust, as I looked in both directions. Neither of my options were good and I was exhausted. My feet fucking screamed from standing still. Thank God I could sleep in tomorrow after the way this evening was ending. There was a gas station a couple miles back—better to go with what I knew than to walk into an uncertain future. I tapped the lock button on my key chain one more time, helping relieve my OCD need to double-check everything, before I started walking away.

Barely clearing the trunk, a single light came over a small hill in the distance, hurting my eyes with the brightness. The roar of the engine grew louder as the distance closed. I waved my arms as a figure came into view, but the asshole biker drove right passed me as I screamed, “Hey! Hey!” The wind from his bike caused the dust on the road to kick up and fill my mouth.

I turned around, coughing, and screamed toward the bike. I knew it was pointless. There was no way in hell he’d heard me yelling above the roar of his bike, but he had to see me. The red taillight lit up the road as he turned the bike in my direction. I swallowed hard, unsure if this was my best idea of the night—but I’d already made too many mistakes to dwell on that. He was my only hope of getting home.

I stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to move, as I gaped at him. My hands trembled as the figure on the bike came to a stop. The engine was almost deafening, as I took in the sight of him on the machine. The bike was a Harley, a Fat Boy, with no windshield, chrome handlebars, and a dark body. He wore black boots, dark jeans, and a dark t-shirt. He was large and muscular, and I sucked in a breath as my eyes reached his handsome and rugged face. A playful grin danced on his lips as he watched me ogle him. Fucking hell.

“Need some help, lady?” he asked, removing his helmet, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. The dark peaks stood up on the top, the sides were short and clipped, and the color matched the sky—dark. I couldn’t see his eyes; a pair of tinted glasses hid them. Could serial killers be so sexy?

“Um, do you have a cell phone I could use to call for a ride?” I asked without taking a step in his direction. Don’t get too close—leave room to run. Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn’t make it five feet in these damn shoes.

“Sure.” As he leaned back on his bike, I studied his body as he dug in his pocket. The skintight jeans showed his muscles through the denim fabric. Everything clung to him. I wanted to poke him to see if he felt as hard as he looked. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I was too busy staring to notice what he was holding out for me. “Lady, you wanted my phone?”

Snapping back to reality with the sound of his deep voice, I took a step toward him, reaching for the phone. “Oh, sorry.”

My fingertips grazed his palm, and a tiny shock passed between us. His fingers closed on my hand as I pulled away. My heartbeat, which had calmed, now began to pound feverishly in my chest. It had to be my hormones. I hadn’t had sex in God knows how long—I stopped counting after three months. The man in front of me wasn’t my type, but his sex appeal wasn’t lost on me. He looked like a whole lot of trouble, and I didn’t need that in my life.

I stepped back, keeping my eyes trained on him, as I dialed the only person close enough to help—Sophia. The phone rang and his eyes traveled up and down the length of my body—with each ring, my stomach began to turn. I didn’t have anyone else to call.

Tapping the end button, I sighed. “There’s no answer. Thanks.” I gave him a sheepish smile as I handed him the phone.

“Let me take a look and see if there’s anything I can do. Okay?” he asked, as he began angling the bike to shine the headlights on the hood.

“Sure.” I hit the unlock button on my car key before climbing in. I put the key in the ignition, but stayed aware of his proximity. No one would hear me scream if he tried to kill me. I couldn’t let my guard down.

He put the kickstand down, climbed off the bike, and placed the helmet on the seat. Pulling the hood latch next to my seat, I watched him from the relative darkness of my car, my face hidden by shadows. He was large, larger than he looked sitting on the Harley. He had to be more than a foot taller than me, and looked more solid with the bike illuminating his body. I stared at him, mouth open slightly, my breathing shallow as I looked at him like a piece of meat through the gap between the hood. He oozed masculinity and ruggedness, and I tried to picture him without all the skintight clothes. The muscles in his arm rippled as he touched the parts under the hood.

What would it be like to be with a man like him? Every man I’d dated just didn’t work out. They were nice guys, but the spark I wanted was always missing. People think I’m a good girl, and I am, but my mind is filled with dirty thoughts that I could never share with a mate. I’d shared them with Sophia, but she doesn’t count. No one had ever done anything fantasy-worthy with me. I can barely speak the words that are needed to describe the things I want done to me, or that I’d want to do to another person in this world.

“Ma’am,” he said, snapping me out of the evaluation of my sex life, or lack thereof.

“Sorry, yes?”

“Can you try and start it for me, please?” he said, leaning over the hood, his hands placed on either side of the opening. “Now,” he said. The car churned and churned. “Stop,” I heard him yell over the screeching noise. He moved methodically around the engine. “Try it again.” I turned the key, causing the engine to rattle, but not start.

He stood, rubbing the back of his neck as curses spilled from his lips. The only thing I could see was his crotch. I stared, motionless. His t-shirt covered the belt loops and stopped just above his groin. Damn. He filled out those jeans. He had to be big. Everything about him was big—he couldn’t, just couldn’t, have a small cock, could he?

The last guy that I’d slept with was more the size of a party pickle. It was the most unsatisfying sexual experience of my life. He was a teacher, and I wanted someone who was educated and self-sufficient, but he was boring in and out of the bedroom. I thought I’d found that with Derek, Mr. Pickle, but I was wrong. He was a wreck, and filled with more mental issues than anyone I’d ever know. He was germophobic, which was problematic when having sex. He’d jump right out of bed immediately after sex to shower and wash the dirty off. I sighed to myself, remembering his need to be clean—never mind that he was an asshole, too.

The hood of my car made a loud thump as the man slammed it. “Your car is a little tricky. Foreign cars can be complicated. I can’t seem to get it to start,” he said, walking toward the driver-side door.

“It’s okay. Thanks for trying.” I climbed out, not wanting to be trapped inside. What the hell was I going to do now?

“I was heading to the bar up the road. Want to join me?” He smiled and tilted his head as he studied me. “You can call a tow truck from there. It may take them a while for them to get out here.”

I couldn’t think of any other option. He was my only hope, my saving grace from the dark roadside, and a means to an end. There were worse things than climbing on the back of his motorcycle and wrapping my arms around him. “Okay, but I’ve never been on a bike.”

“Never? How is that even possible?” he asked, shaking his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. His teeth sparkled in the light, straight and white. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones jutted out more when he smiled, and a small dimple formed on the left side of his face.

I looked down at the ground, my cheeks heated. “I don’t know. I just never knew anyone that had one and I find them totally scary.”

“It’s not far from here and there isn’t much traffic. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, holding out his helmet.

My stomach fluttered as I closed the car door and thought about my first motorcycle ride. The black, round helmet felt cool against my fingers as I took it from him. I scrunched my eyebrows together as I studied it. I didn’t know if there was a front or a back, or how to put it on.

“Here, let me help you,” he said as he reached for the helmet, removing it from my grip. His hand touched mine and I felt the spark again. Not a real spark, but electricity that I felt with every fiber of my being from the slightest touch. My body wanted his touch, but my mind was throwing up the caution flag.

Placing it gently on my head, he ran his rough fingers down the straps, almost caressing my skin, to adjust it to fit my face. I inhaled deeply, trying to fill all my senses with him. He smelled different than any other man I’d smelled. He didn’t smell of cheap cologne, but there was a spicy, woodsy scent that reminded me of home. I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his warm skin against mine.

“All done. Are you ready?” he asked.

I opened my eyes, heat creeping up my neck, as I had been lost in his touch. “Yes.” I prayed my voice didn’t betray me.

He climbed on the bike, sliding forward, making room for me. “Lift your leg and climb on.”

Placing my hand on his shoulder to help balance myself, I followed his instructions; my body slid forward, smashing against him. Rock solid. He turned his head, looking me in the eyes. “Put your feet on the pegs and wrap your arms around me. I don’t bite—well, unless you want me to.” He smirked, and my heart felt like it was doing the tango in my chest as I pressed against his back. He didn’t just say that to me, did he? I lifted my feet off the ground, turning over complete control to the stranger I was entrusting with my life. I locked my hands together, completely wrapped around him.

“Ready?”

“Wait! I don’t even know your name. I mean, I’m putting my life in your hands and I don’t even know who you are.” I gripped his body tighter, clinging to him.

I couldn’t hear his laughter, but I felt the rumble of it from deep in his chest. “My friends call me City, sugar.” He throttled the engine and my heart skipped a beat. Fear gripped me—there was no turning back now.

My grip became viselike, fear overcoming any need to be cool or seem calm in front of him. He patted my hands before the bike began to move, and I couldn’t bear to look. I buried my face in his back, avoiding any chance of seeing the road. The wind caressed my skin, causing it to feel like ice compared to the warmth my palms experienced. Did this man have any soft spots? I flexed my fingers against his chest, wanting to feel his hardness, praying like hell I made it seem natural and not like I was molesting him.

The bike picked up speed, and my heart thundered against his back. I gripped him harder, holding on for dear life, the sound of the engine drowning out everything else around me, except the two of us. He leaned into the bike, his ass moving snugly between my legs. I didn’t dare move. He was warm, comfortable, and I enjoyed every minute my body touched his. I closed my eyes, trying to not think about the movement of the bike underneath us—the slight shift and unevenness of the road made me feel off balance.

The noise of the engine changed, and I finally peeked over his shoulder. The parking lot of the Neon Cowboy was packed with bikes and was the brightest thing for miles. I’d driven by it dozens of times, but never thought about stopping. This wasn’t the type of bar for kids on speedy, foreign-made bikes, but a place for tough bikers to hang out, drink beer, and pick up chicks.

City backed the bike into an empty spot, and I could feel my body begin to tremble from the fear that finally began to seep through my veins. I did it. I rode on a motorcycle, and with a stranger, no less. My breath was harsh as I blinked slowly and tried to calm myself down.

“You can climb off now, sugar.” His legs were straddling the bike and he held the handlebars, securing the bike for me. “Enjoy your first ride?”

I released my hands from the security of his body and hoisted myself off on trembling legs. “It was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced,” I said, thankful when my feet were firmly on the ground. I stood, trying to get my body to stop shaking and my heart to slow down before walking inside the bar with him at my side.

“If that’s the scariest thing you’ve ever experienced, you need to get out more, sugar. I took it slow with you.” He grinned, and my stomach plummeted from his sinful smile. I wanted to see him above me naked and moving in and out of my body slowly, almost at a torturous pace. Everything about him made my body convulse and scream for attention. He wasn’t my type. I preferred a bookworm and a man that liked to spend an evening inside watching a movie or playing Scrabble, not riding like a bat out of hell on a Fat Boy to hang out at a bar. I wasn’t a barfly and never would be.

The outdoor lights gave me a full view of the man that called himself City. His hair was darker than I originally thought, almost jet black, and an inch long on the top, brushing against his forehead as he shook it out. It was a mess from the wind, with the front hanging over his forehead. I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes; they were still hidden behind the tinted lenses of his glasses.

“Yeah, lucky me.” I chuckled and tried to play it cool, even though my body shook. If that was slow, I didn’t think I wanted to know what his idea of fast and hard were—or did I? Fuck me. He had my brain all jumbled.

After removing the helmet, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to straighten it after the wild ride. He laughed as he crawled off the bike, taking the helmet from my hands, and placed it on the seat. I watched, mesmerized, as he removed his glasses and put them inside a small bag hanging from the side of the bike. I wanted to see his eyes, and the entire man without a mask or veil.

“Ready, babe?” He motioned toward the door.

I wanted to scream no, but I didn’t have a choice. I could never walk into this sort of place on my own.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.” I started walking toward the door and felt a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I looked at his fingers wrapped around my arm and turned toward him. “What are you doing?”

“You can’t just walk into a place like this. You’re an outsider. They’ll eat you alive in there. I don’t want anyone giving you shit. We have to make them believe you’re with me so they leave you the fuck alone. Unless you want the attention?” he asked with a crooked eyebrow.

“I don’t.” I didn’t mind the idea of making everyone in the bar think we were together. City was hot and seemed like a nice guy; he did stop to help me when he could’ve driven right by me.

“Just stay by my side and follow my lead. I know these people and I don’t want them sniffing around you. They look for easy prey,” he said, giving me a smile that made my body tingle and my sex convulse.

“Okay, I’ll stick to you like glue and follow your lead.” Jesus, I sounded like a dork. I’ve always been a bookworm. I was national honor society member, and when all my friends were partying, I stayed in my dorm to study.

City nestled me against his side, tucking me between his body and arm. I moved with him, trying to keep up with his fluid movements, but my legs were so short I felt like I almost had to jog to keep time with him. He opened the door and I was immediately hit with a smoky smell, loud, twangy music, and a dozen set of eyes looking directly at us.

Randomly people yelled out “City” throughout the bar, giving me a clue that he was a regular. I felt like I’d entered a seedy version of Cheers and City was Norm, only sexy and muscular. He leaned down, placing his mouth next to my ear. I felt his hot breath before I could hear his words.

“Stick close and show no fear,” he whispered, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin. “Let’s say hello then we’ll call a tow for you.”

City looked big enough to handle any man in this place, but I didn’t want to take that chance. I concentrated on breathing, keeping my chin up, and watching where I walked. The floor was filled with peanut shells and dust, and it made the walk in the stilettos even more treacherous than normal. I could barely walk when I bought them, but they looked too sexy to pass up.

We walked to a table filled with men all wearing their leather vests, covered in patches. They were unshaven, as dangerously sexy as City, with mischievous smiles on their faces. “Who’s this lovely lady, City?” one man asked. His eyes raked up my body, stopping at my breasts before he looked at my face.

“This is Sunshine. Don’t even fucking think about it, Tank, she’s with me,” City said with a smile on his face as he pulled me closer.

Sunshine? I’d never told him my name and he never asked. I didn’t like the way Tank looked at me. Thank God he wasn’t the one driving by while I was stranded. He looked at me like I was a piece of meat, a meal for his enjoyment.

Tank put his hands up in surrender. “Dude, I’d never. Chill the fuck out. I’m just enjoying the view,” he said, his eyes moving from City to me, and not being coy about his visual molestation.

City squeezed my waist. “Sunshine, this is Tank, the asshole. This is Hog, Frisco, and Bear,” he said, pointing to each of the men.

The nicknames didn’t seem to fit any of the men, except Bear. His arms were hairy and he was big, huge, in fact, with dark hair and a fuzzy face. He looked huggable and kind, with soft hazel eyes.

“Hi,” I said, looking at each of them quickly, but I didn’t try to memorize their names.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a woman tonight, City,” Bear said.

“Wilder shit has happened, Bear,” City said, pulling me closer, leaving no space between us.

“She doesn’t look like your usual taste, my friend.” Bear smirked. “I don’t mean that shitty, girl, I just mean you’re one fine piece of ass and too good for that low-life motherfucker. You should be sitting on my lap.” He patted his leg, and I wanted to find an exit. I looked down and studied my clothes. I didn’t wear the trashy clothes some of the women in here wore, but I looked classy, sexy even, with not a hint of nerd to be found.

City moved toward Bear, and my heart sank as he began to speak. “Show some respect, you asshole. That’s not how you talk to a lady.” City stood inches from Bear’s face. “Apologize to the lady. Now.” City towered over him as Bear stayed rooted in his chair.

Bear looked at me, and I could see him swallow hard before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I was just kidding around. I really am an asshole. Forgive me, please.”

“No harm done, Bear,” I said with a fake smile, hoping to calm the situation.

“We’re going to sit at the bar.” City looked at Bear, not moving his eyes.

“Come on, dude, sit with us. Don’t mind Bear. He’s a total dick. Make his ass go sit at the bar,” Frisco said.

“Sunshine and I want to be alone. I’ll catch you guys another night,” City said, pressing his hand against my back, guiding me away from the table and the large bar area.

“I’m sorry. They can be childish dicks. Bear doesn’t have a filter,” he said as he pulled out a chair for me. City had manners. Not many of the men I dated did something as simple as pull out a chair for a lady—it was a lost art. “He’s a good guy, but sometimes his mouth runs and he doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“It’s okay, really…it is. Thanks for sticking up for me,” I said to him as I sat down, pulling my stool closer to the bar. “Why did you call me Sunshine?”

“Well, I don’t know your name and you remind me of sunshine—your hair is golden and your smile glows. Just sounded right. I had to come up with something on the fly,” he said. “I hope you didn’t mind.” He shrugged and grabbed the menu lying nearby.

“I didn’t mind, but my name is Suzy.”

“What would you like, Suzy?”

I wanted to say “you,” because somehow this man made me lose my grip on reality. “Virgin daiquiri, please.”

“Virgin? Really?” His brows shot up and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“I already had a drink tonight. I just want something sweet, no liquor.”

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked. “You a vegetarian too?” He laughed.

“Shut up.” I smacked him on the arm. “I’m good. I just want to call a tow truck.”

“Gotcha.” He pulled out his phone and placed it on the bar. “Hey, darlin’, can you put in an order for a cheeseburger, a beer, and a virgin daiquiri?” he asked the bartender.

“Sure thing, handsome,” she said, walking away, slowly swaying her hips to grab attention. I turned to City to see if he was watching her, but he was staring at me instead, and my mouth felt dry and scratchy.

“You want to call Triple A or someone else?” he asked without taking his eyes off me. They were an amazing shade of blue, and I couldn’t look away. I’d always loved my blue eyes, but his were almost turquoise. I felt like he was staring through me, into me, seeing everything I hid under the surface. I wanted him, but I didn’t want to admit my attraction. I couldn’t admit it.

“Triple A is good,” I said, reaching for my purse to find my membership card. I fumbled with my wallet, finding the card behind everything else inside. I could feel his eyes on me; he studied me and it made me nervous. What was he thinking? I dialed the number as I swiveled away from him, needing to avert his stare.

“Hello, Triple A, how can I help you?”

I could barely hear the tiny female voice above the loud classic rock that pulsed throughout the smoky bar. City chatted with the bartender as I tried to drown them out and give my location and details about my car. They wouldn’t be able to make it out to my car until morning. Fuck. I thanked her for helping me before hitting the end button.

“What’d they say?” City asked with a sincere look as the bartender sashayed away from us.

“They won’t make it out here until morning because they’re busy and we’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m to leave it unlocked so they can get in and put it in neutral or something. I don’t know how it works. I’ve never had my car towed before.” Now what the hell was I going to do? I was stranded at the Neon Cowboy with Mr. Sexalicious and my dirty thoughts.

“I’ll bring you back to your car when I’m done eating. I guess you’ll need a lift home too?” he asked, sipping his drink as he eyed me.

I smiled at him. Though I hated the thought of him going out of his way, and I wasn’t that comfortable with a stranger knowing where I lived, I couldn’t say no. “I’d appreciate it, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Suzy. I can’t just leave you here and walk out the door. I got ya, babe.” He turned his stool toward me and leaned into my space. “Where do you want me to take you after we leave? Home?” He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for my response, and held me in place with his hard stare.

Home? Whose home was he referring to? City looked to be the type that had different women falling out of his bed every morning…or maybe he kicked them out before he fell asleep. His fingers brushed against the top of my hand and my internal dialogue evaporated.

“Where. Do. You. Live?” The laughter he tried to hide behind his hand made it clear that I’d sat there longer in thought than I had realized.

I cleared my throat. “I need to unlock my car then I need a lift home. I live about fifteen minutes north. Is that okay? I mean, I don’t want to—” He put his finger over my lips and stopped me mid-sentence.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take you anywhere,” he said with a sly grin that made my pulse race and my body heat. He licked his lips, and I stared like an idiot. My sex convulsed at the thought of his lips on my skin. What the fuck was wrong with me? Every movement he made and word he spoke turned sexual, as if permeating my brain. I needed to get laid; this man was not hitting on me, was he?

“You want some? I can’t eat it all,” he said as the plate was placed in front of him.

I shook my head and picked up my drink, trying to cool my body off from the internal fire caused by City. The cool, sweet strawberry slush danced across my tongue and slid down my throat.

I swirled the red straw in my mouth, trying to occupy my mind. His arms flexed as he lifted the burger to his mouth, forearms covered with tattoos. The left arm had various designs woven together—a koi fish, a tiger, and a couple of other nature-themed pieces that seemed to move across his skin, and his right arm had a city skyline. I wanted to touch his arms and run my fingers across his ink. He looked big everywhere, and my gaze drifted down his body and lingered at his crotch. I wondered if his motorcycle and tattoos made up for shortcomings elsewhere, but I couldn’t believe a man like him was tiny. There was no way in hell he had a party…

“Pickle?”

I blinked and moved my eyes away from his crotch to his eyes. Pickle? He held it and motioned for me to take it.

“No. Thanks, though. You eat it,” I said, feeling like he was reading my mind. God, I hoped he didn’t see me staring at his crotch. I sucked down the rest of my drink, wishing now that it did have alcohol in it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed. “I noticed your tattoos. What’s the one on your right arm?”

“That’s the Chicago skyline,” he said, as he took another bite.

“You from there?”

“Born and bred, baby.” He grunted and continued to chew. I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth. Watching him eat was erotic to me; his lips moved as he chewed, and he sucked each finger in his mouth to clean off the juices that flowed from the sandwich. Damn. It had been too long since I’d had sex—when eating becomes sexual. Houston, we have a problem.

2

RAY OF SUNSHINE

CITY

I COULD’VE EASILY STARTED her car, but I didn’t want to. Her beauty caught my eye and I wanted to know more about her. Shit, I wanted to fuck her. I couldn’t just drive away and leave her out there to fend for herself. I’m a dick usually, but I couldn’t just leave her there.

She looked helpless as I almost drove by her. When the lights of my bike shone on her, dirty thoughts flooded my mind. She had on “fuck me” heels with a short-as-hell skirt and a lacy white tank top that instantly made my dick hard. Her hair fell across the top of her breasts and sparkled in the light. It was golden, and I wanted to pull it while my cock was buried deep inside of her.

I pretended to come to her rescue and try to help, but I wanted to keep her as long as I could. I’d have one of the guys at the bar tow her car back to her place.

I could see fear in her eyes when we walked in tonight. They were large like saucers, her mouth hung open, and she looked around the room like she’d never been in a bar before. The guys here could be assholes, especially when a beautiful woman enters the room. Bear was always a total prick, but he did have a point. I wanted to fuck her and I wanted it dirty.

“How about I buy you a real drink? Just one. You aren’t driving tonight, so what’s the harm?”

I watched as she chewed her lip. “I guess you’re right. My week’s been crappy. I could use something…stronger,” she said, blowing out a puff of air, causing her hair to move.

“Well, let’s change that. Bad date?” I asked. I looked at her shoes before moving up her entire body and stopping at her face. “How can I make it better?”

Her lips parted and her chest heaved as she sucked air in quickly. “It’s not so bad anymore. Tonight started out great, I went out with a girlfriend of mine, but it’s just my friggin’ car that put the icing on the cake.”

Friggin’? Did grown women really use that word?

“I’m sure the car is no big deal,” I said as I motioned for the bartender. “Know what you want?”

“Martini. A sweet one, please.” She polished off her virgin daiquiri. She didn’t swear and barely drank liquor; she wasn’t like most girls I knew—even her clothes weren’t as sexy as I’d expect for a girl her age.

“What can I get you, honey?” Sandy asked.

“Sunshine here will take a sweet martini, Sandy. Anything you can make flavored, preferably.” I looked over at Suzy. “Right?”

“Yes, thank you.” She looked out of place in a bar like this, but I wanted her at my side. She appeared to be a good girl with a clean mouth, but I could tell her mind was littered with filthy thoughts. She looked at me—no, stared at me—watching every movement and studying my entire body. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, even though she didn’t want to admit it or couldn’t. “You come here a lot, huh? Everyone seems to know you.”

“The guys and I hang out here a couple nights a week after work, and it’s close to my house. It’s just a place I like to come to relax and unwind a bit after a long day.”

She licked her lips, and I swear to fuckin’ Christ my cock twitched. I adjusted myself, trying to stop a full-on hard-on from catching her eye. I watched her legs as she shifted in her seat, rubbing them together before crossing them. I had her and I knew it, but the trick was to not scare her off.

“What do you do, City?” She glanced at her hands, trying not to look at me.

“I’m an artist. You?” I left it at that—sounded classier than “I’m a tattoo artist.” I was an artist at heart, but my canvas was human skin.

“Teacher. What kind of artist?”

She didn’t look like any schoolteacher I’d ever had. I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention in class with her walking around in heels and stretching to write on the chalkboard. “Tattoo,” I said as I pointed at the artwork on my arm. “You have any?”

“Tattoos?” she asked as her eyebrows rose and her eyes grew wide.

“Yeah, by the look on your face I’d say the answer is ‘no.’”

“Oh no.” She laughed. “Needles scare the heck out of me.” Grabbing her drink, she gulped down half the martini without even blinking.

“Do you swear?” I asked as she set the glass back on the bar.

“What?” She gaped at me.

“Do you swear? Simple question. You’ve said ‘heck’ and ‘friggin’’ so far, but nothing dirty.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I swear.” Her cheeks turned pink and a small smile spread across her face. “I’m just used to watching my words with the kids around all day.”

“Prove it,” I said, staring in her sapphire eyes.

“What? Why?”

“’Cause I need to know if it’s in you. Are you all good girl? Or is there something more underneath dying to come out?” I hid the smile and laughter that were so close to breaking free from my lips. The pink of her cheeks spread across her face. I knew I’d embarrassed her, but fuck, I needed to know if I stood a chance.

“Yes, I swear. What do you think I am? I’m not a child, City.” She glared at me as she raised the drink to her lips and wrapped them around the rim. Fuck. I wanted those lips wrapped around my dick, taking me deep and sucking me off.

“Never said you were, babe. Do you drink besides tonight?” I asked, now smiling because I knew she was upset. I liked the fire I saw in her eyes when I pointed out her good-girl qualities—she obviously didn’t like being labeled.

“Sometimes. I’m just responsible. I don’t drink and drive. My dad used to be a cop, and it was drilled into my head at an early age.” The words she spoke hit me like a ton of bricks. Drunk driving was the one thing in the world that caused my blood to boil.

Good-girl teacher with a cop father? Just my luck. “Nothin’ wrong with that. Virgin daiquiris aren’t always your thing, then?”

“Why? Do I have to be a drinker? I mean, does it make me less of an adult?”

“No, Suzy. Just trying to get a feel for who you are—what you are.”

Her shoulders slumped and she seemed to relax a bit with my words.

“Want another drink? You downed that one quick.” She’d surprised me with how fast she polished it off, so my question about her drinking had been answered, but I wanted to watch her get a little pissed.

“One more and then I’m done,” she said.

“You order your drink and I’m going to go talk to my friend over there real quick. He’s a mechanic. I’ll see what he can do with your car tonight.” Standing, I motioned to Sandy and pointed to Suzy.

“Okay, don’t leave me alone here too long.”

“Promise, two minutes, tops.” I walked away from Suzy as Sandy approached. The vultures would swoop in soon enough in my absence.

“Bored with Sunshine over there, buddy?” Tank asked as he kicked back in his chair as the others laughed. Tank’s smile was wide, and the laughter only encouraged him further. “I can step in if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind spending the night with that sweet flower.”

I sat down in my usual seat next to Bear. “You can fuck off tonight.” I pointed at Tank. “I don’t need your shit.” Tank just grinned. I knew he was fucking around, but it pissed me the fuck off. I’d known Tank for years, and although he could be a pain in the ass, he had a heart of gold.

“Easy there, City. What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” Bear said.

“Nothing, man, long day. Sorry, brother.”

“Sweet on that girl, huh? Never knew you were such an uptight dick, let alone overprotective of a woman,” Bear said.

“I’m not, but fuck, the shit that comes out of your mouth just pisses me off at times.”

“Sorry. Just fuckin’ with you.”

“We’re cool.” I slapped Bear on the shoulder, hoping to change the mood. No matter what assholes the guys could be, they were still my friends. They always had my back. “I need a favor, Tank.”

“Name it.”

“Her car’s down the road and isn’t starting. It’s an easy fix to get it moving again, but there’s some other issue with it. Think you could take care of it for me and drop it by her place tomorrow?”

“Sure. Whatever you need. You want me to just get it running or fix it for her?”

“Fix it and I’ll pay for the repair. Don’t let her pay for anything. Just drop it in her driveway.”

“Gotcha, kid. I’ll need her keys,” he said as he popped open a peanut and threw the shell on the floor.

“I’ll get them to you before we head out. Thanks, man.” I stood quickly, needing to get back to Suzy. I’d already been gone too long.

“Night. Enjoy the Sunshine. Don’t get burned,” Bear said. Motherfucker.

A man stood over Suzy, invading her personal space, as she backed away as far as possible without falling off the stool. He looked greasy, with long, straggly hair, a dirty top, and stained pants, and he was covered in old, faded tattoos. I’d seen the motherfucker here before, and it never ended well. He always creeped women out, and someone always tossed him on his ass after he had one too many.

“Excuse me,” I said as I stood behind him and waited for him to turn his attention toward me.

“What?” he asked without turning around.

“The lady doesn’t want to talk to you.” I squeezed my hands into fists and tried to keep my temper down for Suzy’s sake.

“I didn’t ask your opinion.”

Her eyes were wide, and she slowly shook her head at me. The anger was clearly evident on my face. I felt like I was breathing fire at this point.

“Get the fuck away from my girl or it won’t end well for you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there, unmoving. If it weren’t for Suzy I would’ve laid the motherfucker out by now, but she didn’t seem like the bar-fight type of girl.

He squinted at her and looked pissed off, but what the fuck did I care? “I don’t see your name on her, dick.”

“What’s going on over here?” Bear said behind me as I grabbed the bastard by the collar, getting ready to pound his fucking face into a bloody mess.

“This asshole is bothering my girl. I think he needs to be taught a lesson.” I tightened my grip on the material that hung from his body.

I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I knew Bear would seal the deal, and the fucker would move on without me having to punch his fucking lights out. “Sorry, guys. You should be more careful about leaving your property unattended. Next time it may not be here when you get back. Would be a shame for something to happen to this beautiful creature.” The fucking bastard smirked.

My fist landed against his face before I realized what I’d done. The fucker deserved far worse than a punch to his jaw. He was a sleazy-ass motherfucker bothering someone that obviously didn’t want to be touched. “Get the fuck out of here! Now!” I yelled as he lay on the floor holding his jaw.

“Let’s go, asshat. Time for you to leave.” Bear picked him up and pulled him toward the door with his feet dragging across the wood planks. “Don’t fucking show your face in here again if you know what’s good for you.”

I shook my hand as pain shot through my fingers. I knew I’d feel that punch for a couple of days, but it was worth it to lay that scumbag out and get him away from Suzy. “Are you okay?” I asked her as I flexed my fingers and studied her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me, again.” She smiled at me and looked at my hand. Her smile faded as she saw the way I moved my fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, bastard had a bony-ass jaw, is all,” I said, shaking out the last pain in my knuckles.

She reached out and held my hand. “Sandy, can we get some ice over here?” she asked over her shoulder as she stroked my fingers and rubbed my knuckles with her soft, warm hands. I wanted to close my eyes and relish the feel of her skin against mine. I wanted to touch her. I ached to kiss her, but this wasn’t the place.

“Really, that’s not necessary. I just want to make sure you’re okay, Suzy.” I didn’t stop her from touching me. I could feel the heat from her skin even after her fingers had moved on to another part of my hand. My hands always hurt from working for hours on designs, so the fist to the jaw didn’t help them feel any better. I touched her cheek with my free hand, and she moved into my touch and searched for the contact. “You are okay, right?”

“Yeah, that guy was creepy, but he didn’t hurt me. Thank you for coming back when you did.”

“Sorry, I should’ve paid attention and shouldn’t have left you. I didn’t offend you with being possessive and calling you my girl? ”

“Oh, no. I’ve never had anyone say that about me, ever.” Her lips turned down as she concentrated on my hands. How could no one ever call her “my girl”?

“Hey.” I held her chin and forced her to look at me. “Every girl should hear those words in her lifetime.” I didn’t smile. I wanted her to know I was dead serious.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t.” She let go of my hand and turned away from me, pulling out of my grip.

I didn’t think I’d ever used those words when speaking of a woman, except Joni. A sharp pain hit me square in the chest as I thought of my ex, the only woman I’d ever loved. I had a reaction to Suzy like I did when I met Joni, and seeing another man bothering her made me see red. I wanted to protect her, unlike I had with Joni. I cleared my throat and shook my head, trying to rid myself of my lost love. “Well, it’s not too late for it to happen. I didn’t think I’d be sitting in a bar tonight talking to such a beautiful woman, but here I am. Your story has yet to be written.”

“I’ll never give up on my fairytale,” she said as she let go of my hand and picked up her martini, swallowing the last drops. “Is it hot in here?” She pulled on her tank top, moving it back and forth to cool her skin. Every time the material moved away from her flesh, I’d get a peek of breast, and I had to force myself not to stare.

“Want to take a ride on the bike to cool off?” I asked. I wanted to feel her body against mine again, hugging my hips with her thighs, her arms wrapped around me.

She rubbed her forehead. “I’m feeling a bit lightheaded. I shouldn’t have had two drinks.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall off the bike. Just hold on tight and I’ll get you home safely.” I touched her knee, wanting to see if she’d pull away from me, but she didn’t. The skin was soft and smooth, and I wanted to run my hands up her thighs and watch her head fall back in ecstasy. I wanted to take her home and have my way with her, but I couldn’t just ask her.

“What about my car?” she asked breathily as I pulled my hand away. My touch had an effect on her, based on the tone of her voice. She wasn’t good at hiding her feelings.

“I talked to Tank about it. He’s going to take care of it tonight and drop it off in the morning. He just needs your keys.”

“Really? He’d do that for me?” Her eyebrows shot up and her lips parted.

“Yes, and for me. Keys?” I held out my hand to her, ready to ditch this fucking place.

She dug through her purse, pulled out her keys, and placed them in my hand. She brushed her hair over her shoulder. I wanted to sink my teeth into her. I wanted to hear her moan, breathless underneath me. She truly was beautiful. She had an understated sex appeal to her. She didn’t flaunt the beauty of her body, and I didn’t think she even had a clue how fuckin’ hot I found her. She was the girl next door, the untouched bookworm that every guy wanted to conquer. I wanted to make her dirty. I wanted to make her scream filthy words while I fucked her. I wanted to corrupt this girl in the worst possible way. She would be a challenge, and maybe I’d found someone worthy of my time.

“How will he know where I live?” she asked.

“Registration in the glove box.” I twirled the keys in my finger and held my hand out for her to take. “Ready?”

“Duh,” she said as she shook her head and grabbed my hand. All I could do was laugh. She wobbled on the high heels as she reached out and grabbed my shirt to steady herself. Sex didn’t ooze off of her. There was a quirkiness that I couldn’t put my finger on, but the sex kitten was there somewhere underneath the surface.

“Home?” I wanted to ask her “your place or mine,” but I didn’t think she was that type of girl. My life had become an endless parade of those girls, and there wasn’t one thing that said “take me home and fuck me” about Suzy.

“Yes,” she said.

I motioned to Tank, and he walked toward us before we made it to the door. “Her car is two miles south, man. Can you have it done by tomorrow?” I asked as I placed the keys in his hand.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll have it at her place as early as possible.”

“Thanks,” I said as I shook his hand.

“Crap,” she said.

“What?” I asked as we both looked at her.

“I have to cancel my tow,” she said.

“Here.” I handed her my phone. “Call them back before we hit the road.”

“Thanks.” She walked away on shaky legs; the drinks must have had a greater effect on her than I had thought. She leaned on a table with the phone in her ear and her ass sticking out. Her skirt rode up, giving me a view of the back of her legs. The muscles flexed and moved as she swayed back and forth. I couldn’t imagine being tipsy and walking in those pointy fucking shoes. Women were insane.

“Make sure her car is running good before you bring it back, got it? No shit-ass job, Tank. I don’t want her breaking down on the side of the road again.”

“Got it. I don’t do half-ass work, City. Got a thing for this girl?”

“I don’t have a thing for her—my dick does, but she’s just another woman. Stop busting my balls and do me this favor.”

Tank laughed. “Sure. I gotcha. I’ll take care of the car and you take care of her—get her home safely.” He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m always a gentleman, Tank.”

“Like fuck you are, man. Kind, at times, a gentleman, never,” I heard him say as he walked away, twirling her keys in his fingers.

“Okay, all done. Let’s bounce,” she said as she touched my shoulder.

Did she just say bounce? Fuck me runnin’. I was in trouble with this girl. I knew it from the moment I saw her, but my cock didn’t want to be the voice of reason. It never did—traitorous fucker. “Let’s get you out of here and out of those shoes, Suzy.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and helped her to the door.

3

DOWN & DIRTY

SUZY

DID I JUST SAY BOUNCE? Hello, the nineties want their phrase back. I’d never been the cool girl, the one that attracted the sexy guy, but hell, tonight I was in rare form. My legs felt like jelly as we walked out of the Neon Cowboy into the parking lot. I was thankful for the coolness of night and the fresh air. City made me nervous, and made every part of my body scream for his touch.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his fine ass as he grabbed the helmet and turned toward me. “Can you do the helmet yourself or do you want me to do it for you?” he asked with his head cocked and a smile on his lips.

I just wanted him to touch me. “Can you do it, please? I’m worried I won’t do it right.”

“No problem, beautiful.”

I closed my eyes. I could feel my body sway no matter how hard I tried to stand still. I felt amazing, like I was flying on a cloud. I opened my eyes to peek at him as he adjusted the straps. The world seemed to spin faster every time I closed my eyes. His fingers touched my skin and I swear electricity flowed through his hand. I wanted more—needed more.

“All right, sexy. All ready.” Sexy? Oh God, I wanted this man. I watched as he climbed on the bike and held out his hand to me.

“Here goes nothing,” I whispered before grabbing him and climbing on the bike.

“Hold on tight.” He scooted back into my legs; my entire body felt like it was on fire as I wrapped my arms around his torso and locked my fingers together. His muscles moved underneath my fingertips and I wanted to rub them—no, I wanted to lick them. I squeezed my legs together, leaving no space between us as I leaned forward, resting my breasts against his back.

“Where am I going?” he asked as he started the bike and cranked the engine.

Please don’t let me be wrong. “Your place.” I held my breath as soon as I said the words and waited for him to laugh.

“You sure?” he asked in an even tone, but didn’t turn around.

I’d never been so reckless about anything in my life. “Yes, unless you don’t want to…” Did I read the signs wrong? God, what an idiot I am.

“Are you fucking crazy? I’ve been dying to crawl inside of you since I saw you on the road. Hold on, sugar, you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

I tried to control my breathing, thinking about his words, but it was useless. Excitement filled me, and thankfully the couple of drinks helped give me courage to go home with this sexy-ass man…or stupidity, but in this moment all I could think of is what the night held.

I held on for dear life as we cruised down the country roads toward his place. I didn’t even know where he lived, and I wasn’t paying attention to anything but his body and how it felt against me and under my hands. Images of him naked flooded my brain as my heart raced in my chest almost as fast as the bike moved. I got lost in time and didn’t seem to worry as much as I concentrated only on his hardness.

I peeled my face from his back as the bike slowed, and I looked around as he backed up. A small white single-story house with green shutters lay before us. His home was on a large plot of land from what I could see. The street was far away from the structure, with a long driveway connecting the two.

“Change your mind, princess?” he asked.

“No, I meant every word.” My voice shook and my entire body seemed to quake.

“Climb off first, use my shoulders.”

I grabbed his shoulders and could feel the hardness. He was covered in muscle. I hadn’t felt one squishy part the entire time I had my hands on him. I’d always describe myself as a tad fluffy. I wasn’t lean and muscular, I did have curves and some softness to my body, but not City—he was ripped. I pushed myself off, using his shoulders as leverage, and the gravel driveway made my ability to stand still and straight almost impossible. The drinks didn’t help either, and the killer shoes I had on didn’t allow me to grip the ground any easier.

I watched as he climbed off the bike, his muscles rippling and shifting with each movement. My mouth watered at the thoughts of touching him and being his for a night. He moved toward me, and I swallowed hard. The closer he moved, the quicker my heart pounded in my chest, and I closed my eyes out of fear and anticipation. I puckered my lips and waited for him to kiss me, but nothing.

“I need to take your helmet off.” For the love of God, please help me disappear. I’d forgotten about the helmet, and had to look like a complete idiot standing there with my eyes closed, waiting for a kiss, swaying in the wind, and wearing the damn thing. I’d been so wrapped up in the moment that all I could think about was him—kissing him, seeing him naked, touching him…just him. I smiled and could feel the heat creep into my cheeks. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I closed my eyes, hoping the embarrassing scene that just occurred would be quickly forgotten. I could hear him softly chuckling as he undid the straps and pulled it off my head. “Cute.”

I opened my eyes and squinted at him. “Cute? What the heck is cute?”

“You.” He tapped my nose, and I rolled my eyes.

“Freaking great.”

“Yep, you’re cute. Innocent, but fucking dying to be bad.” He placed the helmet on the bike, turning his attention back at me. He touched my chin, pulling my face up to look him in the eyes. The rough skin of his thumb glided across my cheek, and I inhaled quickly. “I’m going to make you swear if it’s the last thing I do. You’re going to be screaming curse words tonight.”

Everything in my body ignited at once—my heart pounded, my hands shook, and I stood there on trembling legs, feeling his nearness. The man stole my breath and made me lose all ability to communicate. He wrapped his solid arms around me, pulling my chest against his rock-hard torso, his lips hovering over mine. His hot breath brushed against my mouth as his fingers rested against my throat. My pulse raced under his fingertips, his touch making the rapid beating of my heart increase. Everything ceased to exist as he nipped my bottom lip, sending a jolt of pleasure throughout my body.

An overwhelming craving for more took hold, and I melted into him. A small moan escaped as his lips crushed against mine. Gripping his shoulders, I tipped my head back, giving him deeper access to my mouth. I wanted everything he had to give—all doubts vanished and were replaced by sheer need.

Lust consumed me as he ravaged my mouth and commanded the kiss, deep, warm, and hard. The warmth of his fingers on the back on my neck sent goose bumps across my flesh. Wanting his heat, needing more contact, I lifted the back of his shirt and swept my fingers across his silky skin. There was a cavern near his spine, the outer edges rimmed in hard muscle that flexed underneath my touch. I brushed the edge of his pants with my fingers, sweeping them inside, grazing his skin with my fingernails. His hold on my neck tightened, and he groaned in my mouth. We fed each other air, leaving no room or moment to absorb anything else but each other.

I wanted all this man had to give. I wanted his promise of making me scream words that I didn’t use. Bending down and grabbing my ass, he scooped me into his arms, never breaking the contact with my mouth. My stomach flipped like on a rollercoaster, the movement and excitement taking over my senses. The anticipation bubbled inside me as he carried me toward his house, and eventually his bedroom.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, and felt his hardness against my core. With each step it rubbed against my clit, the friction driving me close to the brink of orgasm, until he raised my body to his abdomen. The key scraping against the lock sent a thrill through me—I’m doing this… really doing this. Running my fingers through his hair, I bit his lip before opening my eyes.

“Suzy has claws?” he asked against my lips, his breath warm as it caressed my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that we wouldn’t hold a conversation at this moment. I didn’t want to talk or chicken out. City was the most gorgeous man I had ever kissed, let alone slept with. “Want it rough, beautiful, or soft and slow?” he asked with a hard squeeze of my ass, kicking the door closed.

I sucked in a breath, not sure how to respond. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before this moment. “Um,” I mumbled into his neck.

Peeling me off his chest, he looked me in the eyes. “No one ever ask you what you wanted before?”

What the fuck? Could he read my mind? “No.” I looked down, trying to avoid his gaze. I felt too transparent, and I couldn’t stand the thought of being figured out.

He whispered in my ear as he ground his hardness against me: “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

I bit my lip and stared at him. There was no smile or smirk on his face. City looked like a man possessed, and I had no doubts he’d deliver on his offer. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew I wanted him any way he’d give it to me. What was his idea of rough? Fuck. “Can I have both?”

His eyes sparkled as his smile reached his baby blues. Anxiety filled my body at the thought of him naked and inside me. My breathing became labored with the knowledge that we were inching closer to our final destination. The lights were off as he carried me through the house. He nipped at my neck as I tried to take in my surroundings. His footsteps and our breathing were the only sound as he carried me.

Light filled the room and momentarily blinded me. As my eyes adjusted, I looked around the bedroom before he placed me gently on the bed. The large room had white walls; a large, framed Harley poster hung above the dresser and was the only visible decoration in the room. Dangling my feet over the bed, I noticed that the only color in the room was from the black comforter and the rich auburn wood flooring. City lifted his shirt as he watched me look around, but didn’t say a word as he approached. I swallowed hard as I took in his magnificent, tanned torso.

I was speechless, and for me that’s a rarity. The six-pack he sported made my mouth water, and my fingers itched to touch it. As he approached, I could clearly see the intricate art on his chest and arms. A black dragon filled his right ribcage, and black tribal designs decorated his right shoulder, looking richer against his dark skin. I never cared much for tattoos, but on him they fit and were freaking amazing.

A twinkle caught my eye, and I leaned forward to get a better view of his chest. There were barbells running through each of his nipples, and I was shell-shocked. Tattoos had become part of the social norm, but piercings still were a bit of a taboo in my mind. Not taboo in that I found them revolting, just the opposite. I wanted to play with them like a new toy at Christmas.

“Still a yes, princess?” he asked as he stood between my legs.

“Yes.” My voice was a little stronger now, my resolve more certain than it had been when I’d squeaked out the words before we pulled out of the Neon Cowboy.

He leaned over me, pushing me into the mattress. My face was buried in his chest as he reached toward the nightstand, and I couldn’t help myself—I licked the metal around his nipple. As he leaned into my tongue, the sound of his groan filled the room, and the sound of plastic alerted me he’d grabbed a condom. There was no turning back now; I’d be his for the night—at least he was prepared.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his lips twitching at the corners.

He knew he looked good. I was sure he’d never had a moment where he doubted his hotness or sexual prowess.

“Your artwork is amazing and the piercings are just—wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. I loved everything that I saw and couldn’t wait to see the rest.

Hovering over my body, he stared into my eyes and lingered just out of reach of my lips. Placing my hands on his chest, I felt the solidness of his body before digging my fingernails into his flesh. His fingers touched my stomach, and I knew what I wanted. I didn’t want slow, but fast and hard…all night long.

The initial softness of his kiss caught me off guard. I expected it to be demanding from the start, but his lips explored mine, testing my resolve to stay the course. He kissed perfectly. A hint of tongue swiped against my bottom lip, looking for entrance, and I willingly granted him access. Our tongues tangled together as his hand explored my body. I wanted him—I craved his touch. I moaned as his hand rubbed against the lacy fabric of my bra. I writhed under his fingers as they skillfully worked my nipple, pulling and twisting.

He broke the kiss, and I felt like I could breathe again. “Sit up,” he commanded.

I didn’t hesitate. I pushed myself up as he backed away and studied me. His expression made me nervous—but it wasn’t critical—as he soaked me in. His lips turned up as his eyes roamed my body, and I could tell that he only had one thing on his mind. He leaned forward, grabbed the bottom of my shirt, and started to lift. “Arms, babe,” he said as I sat up in front of him.

I moved quickly as his fingers inched closer to my bra. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the cocky grin on his face while he undressed me. He didn’t look like any other man I’d ever been with. Having him undress me was the single most erotic moment of my life. His smell surrounded me, a mixture of earth, sweat, and musk. When I thought my heart couldn’t beat any faster, his fingertips caressed my collarbone, and it skipped a beat before thundering in an erratic rhythm. I wanted to get down on my knees and pray that I lived through this experience.

“Breathe,” he said.

I inhaled quickly, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. I wanted to cover my body, but his lopsided grin made me do the opposite.

He wrapped his hand around my neck and kissed me. My toes curled from the passion in his kiss. I felt a hunger, like I was about to be devoured by him. Pressing my body into his, I became his meal, willingly offering myself.

Our hands and mouths became entwined, and the sound of our hard breath and lips tugging and pulling filled the air. I opened my eyes to look at him, and became entranced by his mouth. I watched as he kissed me, and took in all of his features. His long brown lashes lay against his protruding cheekbones, and were brought out by full, dark eyebrows. A shadow had developed on his jaw line and joined with his sideburns, and I couldn’t keep my finger away any longer.

The facial hair tickled my skin as I ran my finger down the roughness to the edge of his mouth. I could feel our lips move under the pads of my fingers. Our hands explored each other feverishly, learning the curves and spots that made one another twitch and shake. There was a delicious torture to the touching and kissing.

My clit ached as his hand inched up my thigh and brushed against my underwear. I gasped in his mouth as his fingers dug into the material and ripped it from my skin. I didn’t care that they were my best underwear that I saved for special occasions; I wanted him inside me. He cupped my sex, applying pressure as I moaned and my head fell back. I didn’t have the ability to hold it up as he began running his fingers through my wetness.

“Oh God,” I said, as my eyes rolled back and my lids fluttered closed.

Warmth surrounded my nipple as his mouth closed around it, and he sucked in a pulsating rhythm. I dug my nails into his skin, needing something to hold. I cried out as his teeth captured the throbbing tip and bit down. Slowly his finger prodded my entrance before slipping inside at an agonizing pace. I needed to be filled and wanted the friction of his palm to relieve the ache between my legs.

I ground my hips into his palm, begging for more, as he pulled his fingers out and thrust them back in. I wanted to palm his cock through his jeans, but his body was too long and his crotch too far away. I grabbed his hair, fisting it in my hand, and he moaned, causing the vibration against my nipple to push me to the edge. His warm, rough palm stroked my clit as he worked his fingers in and out, massaging my G-spot. Pants and moans fell from my lips as he worked my body like a well-choreographed dance number.

I couldn’t stop my body from twitching as my release crashed over me unexpectedly. I screamed his name as the ripples of pleasure cascaded throughout me. I gulped for air, trying to catch my breath as my aftershocks squeezed his finger and tried to suck him deeper.

“Jesus,” I muttered, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of my lips. I’d never had an orgasm so intense. No one had ever found my G-spot, let alone touched it with such skill. I lay panting with my skirt on as he climbed off the bed and began unbuckling his belt.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sugar.” His deep laugh filled the room.

“Oh, um.” My stomach flipped. I needed to move. “No, let me,” I said. He moved his hands away from the metal and closer to the bed. Crawling catlike, I positioned myself right in front of him and tucked my feet underneath my ass. I unbuckled his belt slowly, pulling it out of the loops in a teasing motion. Movement caused my eyes to look downward; straining against the restrictive denim I could see a long, thick bulge.

“Like what ya see?”

Fuck. “Uh huh,” I said, swallowing roughly. I touched his stomach and slowly slid my fingers down his skin before grabbing for the button. “You sure about this?” I thought I’d turn the tables a bit. He kept asking me if I was sure, but hell, I knew what I wanted, and it was him.

“Mm hmm,” he said with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as he rested his hands on his sides.

He grinned like he knew something I didn’t. A small patch of hair lined the top of his jeans—happy trail indeed. I unbuttoned his jeans and slowly unzipped them with fingers more steady than I thought possible. The clicking of the zipper passing by each tooth as I took my time and made my heart race. I savored the moment, freeing his hard-on. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the soft, dark hair that had been trapped underneath the fabric. His body shook at the contact and his finger tangled in my hair. The denim of his jeans was rough against my palm as I slid up his massive thigh to palm him. A small bump at the tip gave me pause before I looped my fingertips in the sides, licking a path from his belly button to the zipper.

I tugged the material down his skin as I kept my mouth attached to his abdomen. I backed away as the material slid down and his shaft sprang free. My heart stopped and I sucked in a breath, my eyes growing wide.

Jesus. “What the…” What the fuck? I stared in wonderment. Not only was the man blessed with a large member, but also he added to it, decorated it. A large metal loop with a ball hung from the tip. I was eye to eye with it, and couldn’t imagine why any man would do that to his body.

“You can touch it.” He laughed. “It won’t hurt you,” he said, moving his abdomen in my direction.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I reached out and ran my finger across the shiny metal jutting out. “Will I feel it?” I felt like a complete idiot, but I’d never seen one in person, let alone had sex with someone that had extra parts.

“It will give you a different sensation at first, closest to your opening…some pressure, maybe.”

I didn’t want to touch it with my finger, so I stuck out my tongue and licked around the cool, sleek hardware. His hips jerked and his shaft lurched from the contact. I reached out and fisted his shaft in my hands, being mindful of the metal protruding from it as I worked it with my hands and mouth in unison. He was rock hard.

“Fuck,” he moaned as I slid it out of my mouth and flicked the piercing with my tongue.

I stopped and looked at him, but didn’t let go. “Did I hurt you?” His head was tipped back, with his arm outstretched, still with a handful of hair in his grasp.

“Sugar, you can’t hurt me. Take all of me.”

I smiled at him, and the name “sugar” made me feel all gooey inside. No one had been so forward with me, and it made wetness pool against the fabric of my skirt. I inched closer, stroking him, and held him firm in my grasp. His musky scent was intoxicating.

I knew I couldn’t fit the entire thing, but I’d try like hell. I moved forward, allowing more to slide across my tongue, causing his body to tremble and his breathing to turn hard and fast.

“Fuck, baby. That’s the spot. Just like that.” He fisted my hair roughly, causing my eyes to water.

I moaned against his cock, and he released a shaky breath. I tried to draw him in a little deeper with each stroke of my lips against his warm, smooth skin. I stopped when the metal hit my teeth, flicking it, as his hips shook in my grasp. His hand moved in my hair, pulling and pushing me, controlling the speed as I gagged each time the head hit the back of my throat. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His mouth was opened slightly, his chest heaved from heavy breath, and goose bumps covered his flesh. Saltiness caressed my tongue as I worked the tip with precision.

“I want to taste you.” His words caused warmth to pool between my legs and my core to spasm.

“But I’m not done,” I said, looking at him, confused, my hands stroking his shaft. “Don’t you want me to finish?” My brows knitted together as I looked at him. He grinned and unclenched his fist from my hair.

“We aren’t done. I want to bury my face between your legs and make you scream again.”

Well shit, who could say no to that?

“Did I do something wrong?” I shook my head as I looked down at my knees.

His hand gripped my chin, tipping it back, and stared into my eyes. “Suzy, you didn’t do anything wrong. Fuck, it was perfect. I want to lick, suck, and then fuck ya, sugar.” The words left me breathy and wanton. I felt beautiful and wanted.

He guided my face to his and crushed his lips against mine, sucking my tongue in his mouth as he pulled the skirt down my hips. “Tell me you want me to taste you,” he said against my lips.

I swallowed hard; words, again, escaped me.

“Say it, Suzy.” With one hand filled with my hair and the other wrapped around my back, he held me in place and left me with nowhere to go. Talking wasn’t something that I was used to during sex, and he definitely brought me beyond my comfort zone. “I’m waiting.” He bit my lip and brought me back to the moment.

“Taste me,” I said, unable to look anywhere but into his dark eyes.

His grip tightened, pulling my head back as he released his hold on my back and began to lay my body back. I felt like a Raggedy Ann doll; I was putty in his hands. My heart hammered in my chest with anticipation as I waited for his mouth to kiss my flesh. He grabbed my legs underneath my knees and pulled my body to the end of the bed as he knelt on the floor. Gripping the sheets, needing something to hold, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Heat flooded my cheeks with the thought of him staring at my pussy. I lifted my head and looked at him as he smiled and ran his hands along my thighs, licking his lips, and absorbed the view in front of him. Not in one spot, but all of me; his eyes roamed over my body before his head leaned forward, and I closed my eyes, unable to look. My body convulsed as his lips touched the delicate skin just to the right of my sex, enough to cause my body to crave more. Suckling the spot where my legs met my core, my body began to tremble. His hands slid down my legs, my entire body was on fire, and I ached for more. I needed more, but this felt more like a tease. He gripped my ankles and lifted my legs, placing each one on his shoulders.

His finger ran through my wetness as his tongue flicked my throbbing clit. My body shot up; I was unable to control the movement caused by the pleasure that shot through my body. His mouth clamped down as his finger slid inside me. His hands were large, but I wanted more of him as my core sucked his fingers inside. He drew me into his mouth and laid his tongue against my flesh, moving it around in circles. My breathing sounded shaky and I tried not to cry out in ecstasy, as I was so close to the tipping point.

Adding a second finger made me feel stretched to the limit, almost to the point of pain. How in the hell would I handle all he had to offer? Swirling his tongue around my clit, his fingers caressing my aching flesh, he slid his hand under my ass, his fingers digging into my skin, as he tilted my hips. My eyes rolled back as his fingers and tongue made all coherent thought disappear. I was so lost in the moment that I didn’t notice his mouth leave my body as his fingers stopped.

“Do you want me?” he growled against my clit, and my eyes opened and became drawn to his stare.

I trembled and tried to steady my breath. “Yes.”

“Yes, what? What do you want?” he asked, his eyes not moving from mine, his entire body still.

“Have sex with me.” I knew what he wanted me to say—he wanted me to use the F word, and I hadn’t, couldn’t.

“Suzy.” He drew out my name and flicked his tongue against me. “You know what I want to hear. Tell me exactly what you want.” He withdrew his fingers and tongue, leaving me panting for more.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, needing a moment to gather my thoughts. They were just words, and ones I said every day but never during sex. Drawing in a shaky breath, I said, “I want you. Fuck me, City.”

4

WICKED WAYS

CITY

THERE’S something about corrupting someone in the purest form. She didn’t swear, or didn’t like to, but the sound of it made my cock grow hard. She looked fucking beautiful laid out across my bed with her flowing blonde hair and her blue eyes sparkling in the vibrant lighting of the room. She wasn’t muscular from working out, or too thin, like a crack addict, from being strung out. Her body could best be described as a classic hourglass—large breasts and curvy hips joined by a tiny waist. She looked almost angelic, her white skin against the black comforter.

I reached under her torso, cupping the crook of her arms, and tossed her up the bed. “Wow.” She laughed as she bounced against the mattress. “You just moved me like I weighed nothing.”

“You’re like a feather,” I said, crawling up her body and reaching for the condom on my nightstand.

She giggled, her eyes growing wide as I tore the condom wrapper open between my teeth. There was something so fucking innocent about her, and I wanted to crawl inside of her goodness and never leave.

I nested between her legs, resting one arm under her body, trying not to crush her under my weight. “Laugh while you can, sweet girl,” I murmured against her lips. “I’m going to make you scream all those dirty words you’re too scared to say.”

Her eyes were like saucers as I slid the condom over my piercing and down my shaft. Her pussy glistened as I nudged her legs farther apart with my knees. I wanted to tear her up, own her body, and make her mine for the night. I didn’t wait for a reply before placing my lips over hers, consuming her, and coaxing her tongue into my mouth. I could spend hours kissing her, exploring every crevice, and be happy, but my balls were heavy and throbbed, needing the release. Capturing her nipple with my fingers, I pinched it lightly and rolled it between the tips. She moaned in my mouth, and my dick jumped to attention, aching to be inside her.

My mouth never left hers as I captured all of the sounds that escaped; those were mine and only mine to devour. Her body writhed under my relentless pursuit of her nipple and the overwhelming onslaught of my fingers against her delicate flesh. I wanted to make her come like this, but I knew there would be time for that later.

Her throat was soft underneath my tongue, and I inhaled the sweet smell of her perfume, stopping near her collarbone before sinking my teeth into her flesh. Her body moved, her hips rose off the bed, and her pussy nudged my cock—an open invitation.

“What do you want?” I said, as I bit down on the flesh of her shoulder.

“You.”

“What part of me?” I didn’t want to make this easy on her. I got a secret thrill out of watching her squirm with each question or prompt.

“Your penis.”

Jesus…seriously? Normally I’d think it was all an act, but this girl was as good as they came, and I’d have my work cut out for me. I liked the idea of a conquest, someone that I could corrupt and make my own.

“The other word. I won’t fuck you until you do.” I could have blue balls by then, but eventually she’d say it. I wouldn’t give in until she did.

I captured her nipple between my teeth, clamping down on the tip as I flicked it with my tongue.

“City, please,” she said as she grabbed my shoulder almost breaking the skin with her nails.

I held her nipple with my teeth. “Say it.”

“I can’t.” She pushed her pussy against me. “Just do it.” I gave it right back as I ground my cock against her wetness. “Oh, God,” she moaned.

“He ain’t gonna help you now. Say the word, and it’s yours.” I sucked the tip harder.

“I want your c…”

“Say it and I’ll slide it in that hot, wet pussy and make you scream. That shit I can guarantee.” I slid my stiff shaft against her, touching her clit with each stroke. “Say it.”

“Cock,” she exhaled. “I want your cock.”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked as I smiled against her skin. I knew she was uncomfortable, but I didn’t give a fuck. She seemed like the type of girl that lived in a very controlled world; set limits for herself and never crossed them. I’d help her go beyond her imaginary lines.

I kissed her deeply and nudged her opening with the tip of my cock as she wrapped her legs around my back, almost pushing me inside of her. She knew what she wanted. She forced me inside of her with a moan and a whimper.

Her body felt warm and slick, and a shiver ran down my spine as I entered her. I wanted to thrust inside, wanted to be balls deep, but also wanted to be in control of the pace. I licked her lips and stared into her eyes as I pushed in slowly, until I couldn’t go any further. I was still for a moment and just relished the feeling of being in her—exactly where I’d wanted to be since the moment I saw her.

She looked beautiful lying on my pillow with her blonde hair framing her face like a golden crown. Her blue eyes shimmered in the light and her cheeks were tinged pink from the excitement, could have been lust. I needed to move. I wanted to make her scream. I pulled out of her slowly as her nails dug into my shoulder, and thrust my dick inside of her, unable to stop myself.

She mewled and moaned with each stroke, as I picked up the pace, unable to take it slow. I wanted to watch her, see her face, as I fucked her. I leaned back and pulled her legs from my back and placed her feet against my shoulders. I smiled at her and licked my thumb.

“Want more?” I said as I pulled out of her.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy and whisper quiet.

I placed my thumb against her swollen clit and began to move it in small circles. “Oh, God,” she moaned as her pussy convulsed around my shaft.

“Do you wanna come?” I asked, pulling out again, just leaving the tip inside.

Licking her lips, she looked at me with glassy eyes as she panted, “Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked as I denied her the very thing she wanted most—my cock and her orgasm.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Say it.” My lips twitched as I tried to stop the smile and laughter that wanted to escape as her face turned pink. “It’s a simple phrase. You want my cock? Tell me what you want me to do with it.”

She opened her eyes and exhaled before quickly saying, “Fuck me.”

“Gladly.” I thrust inside of her and moved my thumb rhythmically against her swollen clit as her body twitched and her head pushed deeper into the pillow. I wrapped my free hand around her thigh, gripping it as I assaulted her.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” I moaned. I didn’t go easy on her—she wasn’t breakable. I increased the pace as her breathing became more jagged and her body began to glisten in the light. I could feel her body milking me, wanting more, and in that moment I stopped.

“Hey,” she yelled, and her eyes opened, showing more passion and hatred than I thought possible. “I was so close.”

I didn’t speak, but pulled her legs tighter against my torso. Her feet were near my face and her legs were flush against me. I gripped her legs, allowing me to hold her and stop her from moving. I pounded into her, battering her body. I watched in awe as her tits bounced from the force of my body slamming into her.

She began to yell, “Oh, God.”

“That’s right, sugar. Let go. Feel all of me. I want you so fucking bad.”

I used every muscle in my body to fuck her. I wanted her to know I possessed her and owned her orgasm in this moment. Her body began to tremble as her leg muscles tightened and flexed against me. I gripped her legs tighter, not wanting her to move.

“Fuck,” spilled from her lips, and I couldn’t control myself any longer. I didn’t have to coax her into saying the word, but my cock had pushed her over the edge.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I said as I watched her body on the edge of orgasm—covered in sweat, skin flushed, and mouth open, lost in sensation.

She reached up and touched her breast, pushing herself over the edge as I thrust into her harder than I had before. “Oh God. Oh God, don’t fucking stop,” she wailed.

Her naked body before me, her dirty mouth, and watching her touch herself caused my balls to tighten, and the orgasm ripped through me. I shook and moaned as I pounded into her, her insides gripping me. Every part of my body tingled, and small aftershocks shook me to my very core.

I needed to catch my breath. The only sounds that filled the room were our gasps for air and the snap of the condom. “Fucking hell. That was amazing,” I said as I kissed her ankle, running my hands up her legs.

“I’ve never…” she said.

“Never what?”

5

ONLY IN MY FANTASIES

SUZY

“NEVER EXPERIENCED ANYTHING LIKE THAT,” I said. How to explain it without sounding pathetic? Damn, nothing in my life had compared to having sex with him. I’d had a few one-night stands in college, but those boys didn’t exactly know what they were doing.

City was rough and controlling, and I loved it. I stared at his beautiful body as he knelt before me, his skin glistening with sweat, his muscles moving in unison as he tried to catch his breath. I wanted to take a picture and always remember how he looked—sweaty and sexy as hell.

“That’s nothing compared to what I could do to you,” he said in a husky tone as he wiped the sweat from his brow. I wanted to lick the sweat off his body. I wanted to do things with him that I normally didn’t even think about doing to anyone in my life. He was different.

“Hell,” I said, unable to think of anything else. He could do better? Was that even possible?

“Maybe you’ll let me show you sometime.” A smile crept across his face, but it wasn’t a sweet smile. This guy definitely had tricks up his sleeves. My heart raced at the thought of feeling him inside me again.

“You want to see me again?” I asked, unable to believe his words. We were polar opposites, and I didn’t know why he’d want to see me again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows turned down as his nose wrinkled.

I covered my eyes, feeling like an asshole. “I dunno. I thought this was just a one-night thing.”

“I won’t lie, I thought it would be just a one-night ‘thing.’ I wanted you from the moment I blew by you on the road.” He moved next to me, wrapping his arm around my body. “You’re not like any of my friends or the women I know.”

“Well, I’ve met some of the people you hang out with.” I frowned, thinking about some of the guys he’d surrounded himself with. Most of them seemed shady as heck. “They look more like my class full of underachievers or someone I’d see on America’s Most Wanted. Not my type.”

“They look that bad?” he said in my ear. His low tone made my exhausted body buzz again.

“They’re kinda scary, City. They remind me of criminals,” I whispered.

He laughed. “Funny shit, sugar. They look scarier than they are.” He nuzzled into my shoulder, burying his face in my hair. “I don’t hang out with all those guys. Many of them are customers—some of them are my best clients. I stop there on the way home sometimes for a drink. Some of them are friendly and, well, some you’ve seen are assholes.”

“You can say that again.”

His body shook and I felt the vibration from his silent laughter. “I spend more time with my family than with those douchebags at the bar.” He brushed the hair off my cheek and ran his fingers down my throat before he rested his palm on my chest. I felt exposed. “Are you cold?” he asked as I shivered.

“A bit,” I lied. I wanted to cover my body.

“Did you want to leave?” He yawned.

“Um, I’m sure you’re tired. I can stay if you want. It’s up to you.” I didn’t want to leave this hot, hunky man and go home to my empty bed. Don’t kick me out like a piece of trash.

He grabbed the blankets and covered our bodies. Yes! Inside I was doing cartwheels and screaming with excitement. He pulled me against his side and wrapped me in his arms. His body felt hard and comfortable. I rested my forehead against his jaw and could hear his heart beating in his chest. The sheets were the softest cotton I had ever felt—not really what I had expected. I thought he’d be more of a flannel guy, or those scratchy sheets you find in hotels.

“Comfortable?” he asked with a long, content exhale.

“Very.” I hadn’t slept in the arms of a man in years. Usually I didn’t fit just right, or they were so bony that my head hurt resting against their body, but City was built to sleep on. He was built for anything that involved two bodies.

I didn’t quite know where to rest my hand. Did I put it on his chest or leave it at my side? Sophia wasn’t going to believe this story when I tell her. She knew me as the good girl that lived in my controlled environment, unable or unwilling to move, but City was like a tsunami that started slowly and built into a giant wrecking ball of sin.

“Hand, babe.”

“What?” I mumbled against his chest.

“Gimme your hand.”

I moved my hand from my thigh and held it out to him, trying not to touch his skin. Grasping it, he placed my palm on his rock-hard chest, and put his hand on top. “Perfect,” he said.

I didn’t have any grand illusions, and I wasn’t delusional. I knew I’d only have this night with City. We weren’t meant to be—he wasn’t what I was looking for. He wasn’t the type of guy that was part of my master plan. I’d just lie here and enjoy the night in his arms.

I listened as his breathing slowed and changed. His hand twitched against mine as he squeezed my fingers and drifted into a deeper sleep. I felt exhausted, but I almost didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to miss a minute of staring at his body.

Thoughts flooded my mind while I listened to his deep breaths. I wanted to see him again, but would it be a waste of time? Did I want to go down a dead-end street and become attached to him? I knew I could fall for him. Even though I wanted to find someone to spend my life with and have that great happily ever after, I didn’t open my heart to just anyone. Heartache was something I avoided at all costs. There wasn’t a need to risk my heart if the certain outcome would be disastrous. The war of words continued in my head for a few minutes, until I finally decided to enjoy the moment and worry about the rest tomorrow.

***

The sound of metal clinking woke me, and I sat up in a panic. I thought someone had broken in while I slept. Looking around the room, I realized I wasn’t in my bedroom. Last night hadn’t been a dream. Reaching over, I felt the sheet where he had lain, and it was cold to the touch. Sunlight streamed through the sheer white drapes and bounced off the walls, amplifying the light. The room was tidy, except for our clothing from last night strewn about the floor.

My body ached as I stretched, trying to relieve the pain from my muscles being stretched and over the night before. I needed something to wear and had to find a bathroom. I tiptoed out of bed and wrapped the sheet around my body to keep the cold at bay. A flannel shirt hung on the back of his door, and I grabbed it and held it up to my face, burying it in the soft material. The hint of cologne and the muskiness of his skin made my pussy clench. I dropped the sheet, wrapped the flannel around my body, and rubbed my cheek against the wrist cuff. I felt surrounded by City.

Walking to the door that I thought was the bathroom, I opened it and found his closet. Fuck. It was filled with t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies. I studied the contents, running my hand over the soft materials as they hung, before I closed the door. There were only two doors in his room, and neither of them led to a bathroom.

My reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the door made me cringe. My blonde hair was in tangles and looked a mess, and my eyes looked tired from the night in his bed. A messy ponytail helped to tame my mane, making me feel presentable. Good enough. Opening the door, I peered into the hallway before tiptoeing into the hall. A loud, long creak filled the air as I took my first step.

“You up?” he yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. “Be right there.”

“I’m fixing breakfast. Take your time.” I could hear dishes, cups, and all kinds of movement in the kitchen. I didn’t think I’d ever had anyone besides my mom, Sophia, and Kayden make me breakfast. The smell of bacon and something sweet drifted down the hall and made my stomach grumble.

An old claw-foot bathtub and white pedestal sink filled the white and black room. He didn’t seem too fond of color, which I found odd, since he described himself as an artist. Everything was clean and sparkling. I could tell that he took pride in his home. I searched his bathroom, looking for an extra toothbrush, but tried not to make noise. A knock sounded at the door and I jumped, knocking over some bottles under the sink and smacking my head against something hard. “Shit,” I said as I rubbed my head.

“You okay? Did you need something?”

“I’m fine.” So not fine. He caught me snooping and probably heard the bang from my head. “I wanted a toothbrush, do you have a spare?” I put my head in my hand, feeling like a fool but thankful that he didn’t witness the event.

“There’s an extra one in the medicine cabinet. Help yourself.” I could hear his footsteps quiet as he walked away.

My face was still red as I left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, trying to avoid City’s eyes.

“Eggs, pancakes, and bacon okay?”

He looked amazing. He wore a pair of black track pants and a smile.

My stomach rumbled over seeing all the food he had prepared. “Did you cook for an army?” I asked.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything.” He put the spatula on the counter and walked toward me. He was so damn hot. I licked my lips and closed my eyes.

I could feel his hot breath on my lips, and I smelled his scent. “I’m gonna fuck you, right here, right now. Yes or no?”

OMG, OMG, OMG, yes, yes, yes!

I swallowed hard and nodded before I leaned forward.

“Words, Suzy. Now the answer needs to be ‘yes, fuck me, City’ or ‘no, I don’t want to.’”

How would I ever say no to this man? I thought about the possibility of never seeing him again, and I wanted one last shot at him.

“Yes, fuck me, City,” I whispered against his lips.

His mouth crushed mine and I could taste the coffee and sugar on his tongue. I could only hear our breath as the world around us fell away. His hands trailed up my thighs and cupped my ass. Fuck, this man was pure sin, and I wanted to be his minion.

He broke the kiss and looked in my eyes. I could hear his breathing, fast and hard. “Hands on the counter,” he said with a commanding tone. Yes, sir. Gladly.

I turned my back to him and placed my palms on the edge. He pushed down on my back and lifted my hips. I rested my head on the cold tile and waited. Looking behind me, I watched as he pulled down his pants before palming his shaft. I heard a crinkling noise coming from his pocket. He’d planned this—he had a condom ready to go. Lord, help me with this man. Could I resist him?

I started to stand up when I heard, “Back down, sugar.” I closed my eyes and followed his command. I felt him stroke my opening, and I sighed. When did I turn into a big ole pile of mush with a guy? He slid inside of me easily; I was slick and ready for him.

He grabbed my hips, holding me tightly as his hardness worked like a machine inside of me. I gripped the counter and my fingers began to tingle from my death grip. He felt amazing, caressing my insides with the metal piercing. My muscles ached as I stood on my tiptoes. He pounded into me, the sound of our skin slapping filling the air, his grunts ringing in my ears. His grip intensified and became almost painful.

“Fuck, your pussy is so damn tight,” he growled.

“I love your cock,” I moaned. That just slipped out—like it was something I said every day.

“I love being buried in your sweet pussy, sugar.”

All the dirty words and the feeling of him stroking my depths pushed me over the edge. My body began to shake, and I moaned, “City.”

I heard a loud crack and my ass began to sting. Did he just slap my ass? The pain began to radiate throughout my body and made my orgasm grow and build. My grip began to slip as my insides clenched against his length. Crack. Fucking hell.

“Fuck,” he yelled as his stroke became more intense and erratic. I could feel him grow harder inside me as he slammed me against the counter. He rested his head against my back as we both stood there immobile for a moment.

“You got me all kinds of crazy, Suzy,” he said through heavy breath.

“Makes two of us.” I was thankful the tile was cold. My body was covered in moisture and my skin was hot from the pounding I had just taken. He pulled out, and I instantly felt the loss of him. I waited for my feet to uncramp before trying to stagger to a chair. He removed the condom with a quick snap and tossed it in the trash. I swayed to my seat, thankful that it was only a few steps away. He adjusted himself inside his pants and walked to the stove with a devilish grin on his face.

“Pancake?” His blue eyes stared into mine as he held the pan up, asking permission to slip it on my plate.

I forgot how hungry I’d felt when I walked in. How did the man just fuck me like a maniac and now he was cooking like Guy Fieri?

“Yes. I never met a meal I didn’t like.” I silently prayed to God the jitters that filled my stomach would subside long enough to eat the giant meal he’d prepared.

“I love hearing shit like that. My sister is so fucking picky it makes me batshit crazy.”

I buttered my pancake and watched him out of the corner of my eye as he grabbed the pan of eggs off the stove. An awkward silence filled the room as I looked at my plate. He’d just had his cock in me as the food sat on the stove, and now what? I wanted to keep the conversation flowing, and figured I’d follow his lead.

“Just one sister?” I asked.

“Just the one, but I have three brothers too. Eggs?”

“Everything,” I said, moving my pancake to make room for the eggs and bacon. “Five kids, wow, your mother must be an amazing woman.”

“Yeah, I think we caused most of the gray hair on her head, which she now dyes to keep her youthful appearance. We aren’t the traditional Italian family. You have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, plopping the eggs on his plate and then putting the pan back on the stove.

“A sister, she doesn’t live here. She’s still up north, where we grew up.” I poured the syrup on my single golden pancake before cutting a chunk.

I envied City. He had a big family and they had a bond that I’d never had with mine. He had something I always wanted.

“Ah, I can’t imagine only having one. We’re kinda a gang. We do everything together.” He stuffed the eggs in his mouth and grabbed a piece of bacon. “You’ve missed out.”

I loved that it seemed easy between us; we were comfortable, and he made me feel that way. “I guess so, but I have some friends that I’m closer to than any of my family.” I placed the forkful of buttery goodness in my mouth and let it sit on my tongue a minute before I chewed it. “My mom’s kinda a flake, and my dad works all the time, so I just have my friends.”

“Damn, that fucking sucks. My family gets together every Sunday for dinner, and it’s usually a bit loud.”

“Every Sunday?” I saw my parents every week, but sometimes it was only for an hour, and dinners only happened on holidays.

I tried to go slow, not wanting to eat everything on my plate. I didn’t want to look like a pig, but I was starving.

“Every Sunday. It’s required, or my parents think something is wrong. Sometimes my grandparents come over and it turns into an all-day affair. Mom usually wakes up early to make the sauce and meatballs. We’re required to be there at one for an early dinner.”

It sounded nice. I’d never had anything like that in my life—never knew families did that kind of thing, besides in the movies.

“Hmm, that sounds like fun.” I ate my breakfast and thought about all the family things I’d missed out in my life. My parents seemed too busy to deal with us at times, let alone have me over for dinner every Sunday. I knew they loved my sister and me, but we didn’t have the close-knit family that City had described.

“It is, but I work with my brothers and sister and sometimes it gets to be too much. So, babe, do I get to take you on a proper date?”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’d love to go on a date with you. I mean, we already…” I moved my hand around, lost for the right word to describe what we did the night before.

“Fucked.” He laughed. “I don’t know if I will ever get over your good-girl thing you have going on.”

“I’m not a good girl, City.” I wasn’t, and I knew it. Good girls didn’t think about the things I did. They didn’t want the things I wanted, and they sure as hell didn’t go home with strangers. “What we did last night wouldn’t have happened if I was a good girl.” I smiled at him.

“You’re a woman, Suzy. Sex doesn’t make you a bad girl; it makes you human. That shit was explosive last night, and this morning I needed to be in you again. I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.” He must have sensed I was uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “I don’t think you’re bad. If someone does, then fuck them. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me.”

“I know. It’s not always so easy.” I wanted to change the subject. “Do you want me to call my friend to pick me up?” I didn’t want to dissect my qualities at the moment.

“I’ll take you home after you’re done, okay?”

“Thank you. I have a ton of things to do today.” I had to grade papers—it was the end of the grading period, and grades were due on Monday morning. I had to make lesson plans and pay the bills before the weekend ended. My work never ended, not even on the weekends. Teachers don’t walk out the door on Friday and leave it all behind—we work on the weekends and walk through the door on Monday prepared to teach the budding students not always so interested in learning. I sighed, thinking about all the work I had to do, but I was the only one that could get it done.

“No problem. I have to get to work by noon, so no rush.”

I wiped my mouth unable to consume another morsel. “Where do you tattoo?”

“Inked. Ever hear of it?”

“I drive by it every day on the way to work, I think.” I remembered seeing the sign, but had never set foot inside. “Looks like a nice place.”

“Ever been?”

“Oh, no. I meant from the street. Doesn’t look like the other shops in the area. Yours is pretty. How long have you worked there?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way. My sister does all the decorating. We own the shop and opened it about five years ago.”

Well, maybe he wasn’t the starving artist I thought he was.

“Why don’t you stop by sometime? I’d love to pop your cherry.” I started choking. “Ink, babe, I’d love to give you your first tattoo.” He laughed.

I patted my chest and coughed. “Maybe someday I’ll let you. My parents are just anti-tattoo, and I never found anything I’d want to look at for a lifetime. How’d you pick yours?”

“Each one signifies something in my life.” He pointed to the city skyline on his arm. “This is a reminder of where my family comes from, Chicago. It’s where I grew up, and I go back every summer to visit my friends. It’s part of me in more ways than one.” He laughed and rubbed the tattoo on his arm.

“And the fish?”

“Ah, the koi. Well, that one I had my brother, Anthony, do when we opened the shop. It’s a symbol of determination and power to achieve goals. We always talked about opening our own shop, and we’d finally achieved it. Plus, I fucking love the color orange.”

“Looking at your house, I’d think you loved white.”

He picked up my plate and laughed. “This place is only temporary. I don’t see a point in splashing color on the walls. I’m surrounded by color all day at work. It’s calming to come home to an empty canvas.” Artists—complex creatures.

“I understand. My walls are actually white except for one blue wall in my bedroom. I’m not the typical bubblegum-pink girl.”

He began to clean the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher. His muscles rippled and flexed with each movement. My mouth watered as I remembered what it felt like for him to be above me and in me—I wanted more of him.

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get ready to hit the road, okay?”

I could get used to being waited on. Mind-blowing sex? Check. Good cook? Check. Sexy as hell? Check. Manly, yet nice? Check. He had all the right qualities and kind of reminded me of Kayden. I didn’t want Kayden, but I wanted someone that cared enough to take care of me.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I said as I stood from the table. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“Take all the time you want. I can’t get fired if I’m late.” He laughed as he kicked the dishwasher closed. “By the way, is Suzy your full name?”

I hated my full name. It sounded stuffy and old. “No.”

“Spill.”

“It’s Suzette.”

“Now that’s sexy as fuck. Suzette.” It rolled off his tongue, and I felt the moisture from my core begin to pool. Fuck, he’d made me a total cock-loving whore, and I wanted to hear him scream my name.

“Right.” Looking over at his beautiful skin and taut muscles, I drank him in—memorized the picture before I walked out the door, leaving him to finish and to get the hell out of here. He could definitely become a weak spot if I didn’t put distance between us. That yin and yang bullshit didn’t really work in real life.

6

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

CITY

I SHUT the bike off and waited for her to climb down. She tried to remove the helmet on her own and stood there looking as drop-dead fucking gorgeous as she did last night. She fumbled with the straps, trying to pull it off, but she frowned and her fingers began to move frantically. “Lemme get that for you,” I said as I motioned for her to move closer.

“Sorry,” she said, blowing a puff of air out.

“It’s my pleasure, trust me.” I winked and watched her cheeks pinken. I worked the straps apart slowly, trying to prolong the ending to our time together. I felt like she was going to give me the brush off. Her body language didn’t match the last twelve hours. I needed to set another date with her and dig deeper into the woman she was instead of who she pretended to be.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to look me in the eyes.

“There. So, about the real date. How about tonight?” I asked. I didn’t see a point in wasting time. I wanted her in my bed again—or against the counter.

“Um, I guess tonight is good.” She looked at me and then to her feet.

“Sugar, it’s just a date. A real date—no strings attached.” I grabbed her chin to look into her sky-blue eyes. “We kinda missed that part of getting to know each other before I took you. I’ll pick you up at nine. Wear something warm.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready. Want me to drive?” She looked at my bike, wrinkling her nose, and then noticed her car. “Wait, how did my car get here already? I totally forgot about it breaking down. What the heck?”

“Tank fixed it for you and delivered it about an hour ago. It’s all ready, but to answer your question, no. We’re taking the bike.”

“Oh. Do you have his number so I can pay him?” she asked, her eyes wide as she chewed her lip.

“I got it. He did it as a favor to me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. Let me pay you for it, then.”

“Suzy, let me do something nice for you. Really, it wasn’t a problem. Tank and I worked it out. I don’t want you broken down again on a dark country road.”

“I know. I just try and watch my money. I was going to get it fixed.”

“Well, now it is. Nine tonight, and warm clothes.” I leaned forward and kissed her lips. I grabbed the back of her neck and drew her closer. The light, sweet scent of her perfume filled my nostrils, as I tasted her lips. Everything about her was fucking sweet, and I wanted more. I consumed her mouth and commanded her body with my kiss. I wanted to leave her weak in the knees and wanting more when I drove away. I broke the kiss, but kept my hand in place and watched her as she stood there with puckered lips and her eyes closed. Exactly the response I wanted.

“Sugar,” I said, smiling at her as her eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, sorry. I say that a lot around you.” Her cheeks turned pink as she bit her lip.

“We’ll finish that kiss later. I can’t wait to crawl back inside that delicious pussy of yours tonight. Digits,” I said before she had a chance to walk away. I programmed her number in my phone and sent her a text as she walked in her house. She’d be back for more.

I started the engine, revving it a couple times before pushing backwards and down the drive. She waved with a sweet smile on her face. My cock ached as I thought about all the dirty shit I wanted to do to her. I watched her in my side mirror as she watched me drive away. I had her.

***

“Where the fuck you been, Joey?” Mikey said as I walked through the door of Inked.

We opened Inked about five years ago. Everyone in my family has an artistic streak, and we didn’t trust outsiders with our money. Growing up, my father had drilled that mantra in our heads. Don’t trust others when you can do it yourself. We agreed that there would be no outsiders unless absolutely necessary. Problem with it, though, was that you could never fire family, especially when they’re part-owners. Mike had the spaz gene. He was known for overreacting.

“I had to drop someone off, shithead. Who made you boss?” I asked as I set my stuff down at my workstation.

“You’re typically here early. I started to get worried. You could’ve called or something, asshole.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mom. I’m here now, so shut the fuck up.”

Mikey threw his hands in the air—showing his surrender or disgust, I couldn’t tell. He was the shop manager since he had absolutely no artistic talent, but he was one hell of a piercer. His real passion was fighting. He had joined the circuit years ago and often traveled out of town for a fight. Fighting with your hands and tattooing do not mix. My hands were precious to me. I needed them to work my magic and see the smiles on the faces of my customers.

“Mom called to remind us about tomorrow,” Anthony said as he walked out of the employee-only area. Anthony is my oldest brother and probably the most unsettled. He’s an amazing tattooist, but he’s a musician. He dreamed of hitting it big, but for now he was ours.

“What the fuck?” Mikey said.

“How could we forget? It’s only been the same day for thirty years,” Izzy said as she unpacked her machine.

Izzy’s the youngest and the only girl beside my mom. My parents kept trying until finally they had the little princess they always dreamed about, after having four boys climbing the walls and roughhousing. She was girly and kind, but if you crossed Izzy, she’d kick your ass. We were all overprotective of her, but we were scared of her too. In my family, the ladies ruled the roost and weren’t to be crossed. She got that commanding personality from my mom, and led with an iron fist.

“Let’s run down the schedule before I open the doors,” Mikey said, leaning over the counter, looking toward the work area.

I listened to Mikey babble on about the clients of the day. I already knew my lineup. I had to finish a back tat I’d been working on for months, and a girl wanted me to fix her bad choice in a tramp stamp.

My mind kept wandering to Suzette. My mom would be happy if I brought a good girl home for once—someone that could give her grandchildren someday. I was not ready for that. My dick was doing the thinking instead of my head. Get your head on straight, man—too much pussy out there to settle. I was getting a little ahead of myself, but Suzy may have been the first respectable girl I’d met in a long time. I never brought women I’d dated or slept with around my family. None of them had a future with me, and I didn’t feel the need to subject my family to an intruder or an outsider.

“Joey.” My sister stood, her face invading my personal space.

“What, Iz?” I looked up and noticed her squinty eyes as she studied me.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, bullshit.” She pointed at me and tapped me on the forehead. “You’ve met someone. Spill it, brother.”

“There’s nothing to tell. You think you’re a mind reader, but you aren’t, sis.”

“I’ve known you my entire life. You walk around here all moody and serious, but today I’d say you’re almost glowing, ya big pansy ass.”

“Fuck off, love.”

“Ooooh, jackpot. Who is she?” A giant smile crept across her face as she leaned forward and stared in my eyes. She wasn’t going to let it go. Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to what I had to say, and Isabella’s impending inquisition.

“Fine, Iz. I met her last night and I’m taking her out tonight. Happy?”

Iz twirled around and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Extremely, big brother.” She kissed me on the cheek. I leaned back in my chair and watched as my sister celebrated like I was about to walk down the aisle.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Iz. It’s just a date.”

“Oh, now come on. I can tell by the look on your face that she’s a little bit more than just a simple date. I want the deets.”

Grunting, I crossed my arms over my chest. “She was stranded and I stopped to help her. I brought her home and I’m taking her out tonight, simple as that.”

“Hmmm.”

She came closer, not believing a word that I spoke.

“Izzy, leave it at that.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s a school teacher, but I don’t know much about her.”

“You’ve had sex with this girl. I can tell.” Izzy poked me in the chest. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

“Well, shit, Iz. That’s none of your business, really.” The door chimed as my client walked through the door. I was thankful that I had a reason to end the conversation and save the grilling for another day. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I knew my sister’s interrogation would happen sooner rather than later.

***

The shop had a buzz today. Everyone had smiles on their faces. The fall weather always made people happy. I had been coloring in a beautiful flower that I had inked on a client, Michelle, a week ago, but she couldn’t take any more pain to finish it that day.

“It’s healing nice, darlin’.” I wiped the blood and ink off her skin.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see it finished. Sorry I pussied out the other day, City.” She closed her eyes as the needle poked the still-healing skin.

“Hey, it’s cool. I’ve seen huge men in tears getting a tattoo. I rather you walk away than pass the fuck out.”

Her eyes opened and she started to laugh. “Really? Guys have actually cried?”

“Yes, like little babies. So no worries. Now hold still so I don’t fuck this up.” I patted her leg with my rubber gloves and set out to finish the beautiful tattoo.

I loved working with color. Flowers weren’t normally my thing; I loved animals and intricate designs, but flowers were a challenge and were laced with bold colors.

My phone vibrated on the table and I glanced at it as I dabbed the needle in the pink liquid.

Suzy: I can’t make it tonight. Sorry, City.

Fuck, she was brushing me off. I couldn’t stop and text her back. Little Ms. Suzy would have to wait. I’d have to remind her of how good it felt inside her and how fucking hard she milked me.

“Something wrong, City?” Michelle asked.

“Nah, darlin’. Just thinking about something.”

“Didn’t mess up my tattoo, did you?”

“Hell no. I don’t fuck up.”

“Thinking about a girl?” Her eyebrows wiggled up and down.

“A woman.” I didn’t look up as I spoke to her, and I kept my eyes glued to her tattoo so I didn’t have to eat my fucking words.

“Lucky cunt,” she muttered.

“What?” I’d heard her loud and clear, but just wanted to see if she’d ’fess up.

“Oh, nothing. Wanna talk about her?”

“Nope. I’m good. Shit’s between her and I, Michelle.”

I had to get in that pretty little head of Suzy’s. I knew I scared the fuck out of her and I should. I wasn’t her type or some clean-cut cocksucker. I knew how to please a woman, take care of myself, and have a good time. I just couldn’t give her a chance to run away like a scared little princess.

Time felt like it stood still as I colored in the same area over and over again to get the shade just right. A small hint of gray near the pistil and I had finished this flower of torture. I wiped off the ink and patted her calf. “All done. Take a look.”

She glided her hands down her legs in a seductive manner, but I didn’t take the bait. “It’s beautiful. You’re fucking amazing.” Not going there—not with this one.

I grabbed my phone, needing to change Suzy’s mind about tonight.

Me: Come on, it’s Saturday night. Live a little, sugar.

I washed my hands as Michelle sat back down and stared at the finished masterpiece.

“You remember what I said last time about taking care of the tattoo? Stay out of the sun, don’t go in the pool or ocean until it heals, and keep it clean. Let me cover it for your trip home first. You can pay up front. Iz can check you out.” After grabbing a new pair of gloves, I covered the area with a dressing.

“Don’t you want to check me out?”

I could hear the hurt in her voice, but fuck no, I didn’t want to check her out. I only had one person on my mind, and it was Suzy Goodie Two-shoes.

“Pfft, fine.” Michelle stomped off as I grabbed my phone and typed another message.

Suzy: I don’t think it’s a good idea. I had a great time with you. Thanks for your help.

Like hell I’d let her off that easy. She was going to be mine again.

Me: I’ll be there at nine—be ready. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Suzy: City—No.

Me: Boyfriend?

Suzy: No. I’m not a cheater. I don’t think we’d work out—we’re just not right.

Me: Sugar, it felt right this morning when my cock was buried inside of you and you screamed my name. Nine. No strings—just FUN. You know the word, right?

I cleaned my workstation and prepped for my next willing victim. I wouldn’t let her weasel out of a night of fun. She didn’t respond right away, but I knew that she would. She had to be thinking about the way she looked at me when I was buried inside her. I knew I had her. I just had to get beyond all her brains and rules. I had to reel her in. I knew my last sentence would agitate the hell out of her. I didn’t think people besides the fuckheads in her class challenged her very often. I wasn’t a boy and didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

Suzy: Nine.

Gotcha.

***

Suzy opened the door with a smile on her face and a killer outfit. “Hey. You look amazing.” She had on furry boots, skintight jeans, and a fluffy, oversized sweater.

She eyed me up and down, studying my outfit. “I guess I’m dressed okay.”

“I’m not a fancy guy. I wear my jeans, t-shirt, and boots or sandals.”

She made a face at me—what the fuck was that about?

“You never dress up?” she asked, as she locked the front door and turned to face me.

“Only when necessary. Tonight it isn’t.” I sat on the bike and held out the helmet. “Want to do it yourself?”

She plopped it on her head. I laughed as she fiddled with the straps. “Want help?”

“No…I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” She fastened the buckle under her chin. “See?” The helmet slid forward, covering her eyes. “Damn it.”

I couldn’t help myself; I burst into laughter. “Come here, lemme help.”

Her lips pursed with annoyance.

“Don’t worry, sugar, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“I’m not used to all this…” She motioned to the bike, her eyes still hidden as I pulled her toward me.

“Live a little. Learn to let go.”

Her lips turned up in a smile. “Not that you know, but I’m a total control freak.”

“We’ll work on that.” I pushed the helmet on top of her head and grabbed the straps.

“I’m perfect just the way I am.” She squinted at me, which made it harder for me to stop laughing. The pissed-off-teacher look made my dick rock hard and my balls ache.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I mean you need to learn to have some fun,” I said, grabbing her chin after fixing the fasteners.

“I have plenty of fun, for your information.”

“Climb on, sugar.” I patted the seat. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Her hand touched my shoulder as she hoisted her leg over the bike. “Well, I like to read. I go out with my friends sometimes. Um, I like to hang out at the pool. I like to play games. I do plenty of fun things.” Her body rested against mine and I closed my eyes. Down, boy—not tonight. She didn’t mention one thing that resembled fun in my book.

“What about a club? Concerts? Parties?” A girl her age should’ve experienced a couple things in her life. She went to college and had to live a little…I mean, fuck. “I know you’ve never ridden a bike before.”

“I don’t dance. Concerts, a couple of times in college, and parties? Do work parties count?” She clasped her hands around my chest and sealed the gap between our bodies.

“Everyone can dance. I saw how your body moved last night, babe. You can dance.” I turned the key and throttled the engine.

She swatted my chest. “Hush.”

I’d embarrassed her. Good—I needed to push her. I wanted to learn what she was really all about. The good-girl bullshit worked for me, but I needed to know there was a sinner underneath that polished veneer.

“Well, tonight we’re going to add a few check marks to your life.” I moved my body, leaving no space between us.

“What are we doing?” she asked against my back, already hiding her face.

“Heading to the beach.”

“It’s dark, though.”

“Exactly.”

I drove slowly through her neighborhood, waiting for the right moment to pay her back for the smack on my chest. I hit the open country road at the end of her development and gunned the bike. Glancing in the side mirror, I could only see her blonde hair blowing in the wind.

I sped up, and she pinched my pec and yelled, “Stop!”

I didn’t listen, pretending the wind made it impossible to hear. I pointed at my ear and shook my head. “I can’t hear you.”

“Slow down,” she yelped.

Stopping at the red light, I turned to look at her. “There’s no one around. We’re safe—I promise.”

“I don’t know if I can ever get used to riding on this dang thing.”

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Trust, sugar. Simple question.”

She sighed. “I do.”

“Then enjoy the ride. It’s freeing and there’s nothing like it in the world. Ready? Hold on.” I gunned the bike, but not enough to lose control, as she screamed in my ear. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

She still had a stranglehold on my chest as we rolled into the beachfront bar. I squeezed the bike into the only single space available. Charlie’s was the place to be seen on a Saturday night, and by the looks of it, half of the town was there.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked, her voice muffled from my jacket.

“We’re here. Off you go.” I pried her fingers apart and patted them.

“Charlie’s?” She climbed off the bike and unlatched the helmet quicker than I thought possible.

“Yes. Have you been?”

“No.” She looked around the parking lot.

“Hey,” I said as I grabbed her chin. “It’s okay. I’ll give you plenty of firsts.” I smiled at her. “I like the idea of showing you new things.” There were so many things I wanted to do to her. I wanted to ruin her in every possible way. Fuck the lawyers and the boring motherfuckers.

“I rarely come down to the beach, let alone at night.”

“Well, tonight there’s a DJ, and I want to dance with you.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes wide in shock. “I told you, I can’t dance.”

“You can and you will. Might take a couple of those sweet drinks you like, but you’ll do it.”

“Oh, suck it.”

“I plan on it.” I smirked at her and grabbed her hand.

7

I’M NOT TOO UPTIGHT, AM I?

SUZY

DID I know what a good time was anymore? I went to college and knew how to live it up and let go. My life had become so wrapped up in work and finishing my master’s degree that I kind of forgot what it meant to let go and unwind. I’d always put more pressure on myself, wanting to get ahead in life, not wanting to worry about paying the next bill. I lived comfortably and I was happy with that. I enjoyed staying home and reading a good book. Hell, it was cheaper than going out to a bar and drinking. I needed to watch my pennies, and drinking them just felt silly.

“I’ll take a margarita,” I said to the bartender, reaching in my purse, but City put his hand over mine.

“I’ll take a Yuengling, please,” he said to the bartender, and then he looked at me and said, “I got this, Suzy.”

“I can pay for myself.”

“We’re on a date, sugar. I pay when we’re on a date. Put your money away—I’ll find another way for you to pay me back.” Butterflies filled my stomach as he said the last word in my ear close enough that I felt the vibration.

I grabbed my drink, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. I needed liquid courage if he thought I would dance with him tonight. Dancing and me didn’t mix, never had. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I always felt like everyone watched me—it freaked me the hell out. If he wanted to dance, I’d give him exactly what he asked, and make an ass of myself to prove him wrong.

City picked up his beer and studied me. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? I didn’t want to like him, but I did. His cockiness wasn’t like the other men I’d dated; it had nothing to do with his career or his material possessions. No, his was natural and sexual.

“I’d like to say you should slow down, but fuck it, I like when you’re tipsy.” He sipped his beer and leaned against the bar.

“I don’t see you tearing it up.”

“I can’t, I’m driving and I don’t drive drunk. Have to keep a clear head when you’re on a bike.” He ran his finger over the rim of the bottle, and all I could do was stare at him.

The band took the stage, and everyone clapped as the lead singer began to speak. “Thank you. Thank you,” he said as he motioned for the crowd to quiet down. The guitarist began to play, and the crowd grew quiet. A soulful melody filled the air as the lead singer began to sway. The rhythm was intoxicating, and if I were home, I’d be dancing around my living room making a total ass of myself without any witnesses.

“Finish your drink.” City’s lips were set in a hard line, and I knew what he wanted.

“Think you can handle all this?” I motioned up and down my body. Fuck, how else could I stall?

“I know I can.” He licked his lips, and I didn’t want it to affect me, but he got to me. “I remember the way you moved against my cock, sugar.” He brushed the hair off my shoulder, and my spine tingled.

My face grew flush as images of last night flashed in my mind. I didn’t respond to him as I polished off the last sip of my margarita. “I warned you.” I shrugged and smiled. Here goes nothin’—let’s show this big boy whatcha got.

Holding hands, we walked to the middle of the dance floor. The music wasn’t the right tempo for a slow dance or to shake my booty, as Sophia used to call it. I didn’t really know what to do as I stood there and looked around. He wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me close. “Feel the music. Follow my body.”

Every inch of his front touched mine as he began to move with the music. Wrapping my arms around his neck, letting his body guide mine to the beat, it struck me how well the man could move. His body rubbing against mine caused my nipples to harden, and a familiar ache between my legs returned. The memory of how he felt inside me, moving in the same rhythm, made my knees feel weak as he held me against his torso. I let him move my body—I became pliable in his hands.

“See? You got moves,” he said in my ear as I buried my face in his chest.

I didn’t know if the liquor had given me the ability to move with the music or if it was the man holding me, but I’d never moved this gracefully in my life. I looked up into his eyes, and he stared at me with the side of his mouth turned up in a grin. Why did this sexy-ass man, who lived life totally opposite of me, want me? We didn’t fit—we didn’t make sense on paper, but that didn’t stop my body from reacting to him, no matter how hard my mind said to ignore his charms.

“You think too much. Stop making a list of why you shouldn’t be here. Feel the reasons you should,” he said, and kissed my lips, distracting me as he pressed his erection into my stomach. My doubts vanished. I leaned into his body and grabbed his pecs, toying with the piercings underneath his shirt. “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish, Suzette,” he whispered against my lips.

“I always follow through, City.” I smirked and winked before pressing my lips against his. I couldn’t resist him, at least not in person. I’d live for tonight and deal with the fallout tomorrow. Our bodies slowed as we kissed. He ran his fingers through my hair and then fisted it, tipping my head back to give him deeper access.

I breathed his air, no room left between us, as he held my body to his. He pulled back and left only a small gap between us, not releasing his hold on me entirely. “I want to taste you.”

Fuck me. Every bit of my body felt hot and damp. I wanted City more than I had last night. “You do?” No one had ever talked to me like he did.

“I will.” I could see his eyes change with his words, his pupils fully dilated. “I don’t make false promises.”

I swallowed hard, unable to stop the barrage of sexy images from invading my thoughts. Why can’t he be a lawyer or something other than a biker tattoo guy? He probably wouldn’t have this effect on me if he was anything other than who he was —City.

“Stop thinking and dance.” He released his hold on my hair and swung me out, pulling me back against his body with a thump. Christ have mercy on my soul.

For once in my life, I felt like I could actually dance. The music was slow and sensual, and let me move without feeling like an idiot. We touched each other constantly and didn’t lose eye contact.

The music slowed and everyone began to clap. “For our next song…” the lead singer said.

“Want another drink, sugar?”

“Yes, I’m parched.” City had me all kinds of crazy. I felt like I was drooling, but my mouth screamed for something cool, and my body needed a break from the foreplay on the dance floor.

City motioned to the bartender, snapped his fingers, and pointed at me. “Aren’t you getting one?” I asked.

“Just a water. I’m driving, remember.” I respected him for sticking to his original plan. “Plus, I’d rather get you a little liquored up. We have an appointment down on that swing.” He pointed in the distance to a dark object.

“What’s out there?” I asked, squinting and trying to get a better look, but the beach was shrouded in darkness except for the glimmer of the moon on the ocean.

“Darkness.”

“And?”

“You. Me. Darkness.” The corner of his mouth tipped up, and I swear to God his eyes almost twinkled.

The bartender placed the margarita in front of me and I picked it up, needing a diversion. I ran my tongue along the salt before taking a mouthful of the cool, sweet liquid in my mouth. I swallowed fast, and the alcohol burned my throat on the way down. I looked at City, and he was watching me intently, curiously. I licked the rim again, letting the salt dance on my tongue, and saw his chest expand as he breathed in quickly.

“Keep doing that, sugar, and I won’t let you take another sip.”

“What? This?” I licked the rim again, keeping my eyes trained on him, and let my tongue drift as far as I could.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hand across his face.

Two can play a naughty game, City. I may not be the hussy he was used to being with, but I knew how to get a man’s attention.

Smiling against the glass as I took another sip and looked away, I pretended to be uninterested. The salt tasted good, mixed with the sweet, tangy drink as I let the liquid linger on my tongue before swallowing it. My legs felt tingly as the liquor spread throughout my system.

“Damn,” I said, my face becoming flushed.

“What’s wrong?” He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head.

“Strong drink. Guess the first one never left my system,” I said, tipping it back again and sucking down the last bit of liquid.

“That’s it. Come on, Suzy. I got something for you to lick.” He grabbed my hand and started to tug me away from the bar.

“I can’t,” I protested as I set the glass on the bar.

“Oh, yes you can. You said you always follow through, and I’m cashing in on that promise, sugar.” Butterflies filled my stomach with the knowledge that we were not going to be watching the waves. City had plans for me, and I couldn’t back out now.

We reached the last step on the deck, and I stopped before my feet hit the sand. “Wait.” My hand fell from his. “My boots. I don’t want them to get ruined.” I tried to give an innocent smile. I really didn’t want to ruin them. They cost me more money than I wanted to admit.

He grunted and moved closer to me. We were eye to eye, with him flat on the beach and me perched on the step. He didn’t say a word as he reached down and picked me up. I laughed as he pulled me against his chest. “Wrap your arms around me.”

My laughter stopped as I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared at his face. City was beautiful; his dark features and ice-blue eyes that looked clear in the moonlight stole my breath. His jaw had a shadow from the stubble, and I ran my fingertips across it, remembering the night before. His lips were full and beautiful and screamed to be kissed. His eyebrows were manly, yet neat—no waxing, but he groomed them. His dark hair flopped with each step, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was everything I wanted and exactly the type I ran away from.

City sat down on the swing, still holding me in his arms. “Straddle me,” he growled in my ear as the swing moved back and forth.

“But people can see us.” I looked around as my heart thumped in my chest.

“Could you see the swing from up there?” He smirked.

“No, I couldn’t, but if someone catches us we could get in trouble.”

“Sugar, we won’t get in trouble and no one’s going to find us. Trust me. Now straddle me.”

I scanned the deck area, and he was right—no one was looking for us, or even seemed to notice that there was anyone on the beach.

“You a regular here, big boy?” I said as I adjusted my body.

“I only come out here to be alone. You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought here.”

“Hard to believe that I could be your first in anything.”

“Sugar, no bullshit. You gonna kiss me or what?” he asked, grabbing my chin.

“Depends on the what,” I said giggling, as he squeezed my waist, pulling me close, our noses touching.

“You talk big, little girl. I’m going to get that taste I’ve been looking forward to.”

8

ANGLES

CITY

I COULDN’T STOP the thought of Suzy moaning on my lap, facing away from me last night as I finger-fucked her. She was hesitant at first, nervous someone would see us, as I unzipped her pants enough to slide my fingertips inside. I wiped any thoughts out of her mind with a few strokes of my fingers. I watched her face as she rested her head against my shoulder—I watched her eyes roll back, and a small sound escaped her lips. “Quiet, sugar,” I whispered in her ear, and she obeyed. Stroking her insides, circling her clit until her body shook and her pussy clamped down on my fingers.

She didn’t move at first as I withdrew my fingers from her lace panties and brought them to my lips, wrapping my lips around them as I sucked her juices, and she stared at me with an open mouth and wide eyes.

“Mm. Taste yourself on me.” I bent down and pressed my lips to hers, dragging my tongue across her bottom lip.

“City.” She moaned in my mouth.

Reaching up and pulling her face to mine, I crushed my lips to hers.

“Joey. What the fuck?” Something hit my shoulder, and I blinked.

“What the fuck, Iz.”

“Your dopey ass has been sitting there in fucking La-La Land for ten minutes grinning like a fucking mental patient. Snap. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Couldn’t just leave me there?” I asked. “And Iz, stop fucking hitting me. You’re the only person that I let get away with that shit. You’re always poking me with those bony-ass fingers.”

“It’s time to eat. Mama’s been calling for everyone to come to the table.” She rolled her eyes at me before walking away.

“I’m coming, Ma.” I adjusted my dick in my jeans. My mind had become a little too engrossed in my fantasy, and the relief I needed would have to wait. I climbed off the couch and slid my hand in my pocket, looking for the phone that vibrated against my dick.

Suzy: I love your idea of or what.

Based on her message, I could tell I wasn’t the only one thinking about our time on the beach.

“Iz, what the hell do you call the what, where, when, why, and how in English?”

She looked at me confused as I sat down at the table. “Trying to impress the teacher?” She giggled.

“Just answer the question, please.” I sighed and stared at her, placing the phone on the table.

“What teacher?” Ma asked.

“Iz, what’s it called? Throw me a bone.”

“Interrogatives.” My sister rolled her eyes before turning to face our mother. “He’s schtuppin’ a teacher, Ma.”

“Isabella! That’s not appropriate at the dinner table.” My mom set the lasagna on the table. “I want details, Joseph.” Ma winked at me.

Me: Wait until you feel the rest of my interrogatives.

I placed the phone on the table and looked around the room. Everyone had their eyes glued on me instead of the meal, as they usually were. “What?”

“You’re smiling as you type—who is she, Joseph?” Ma said as she dished out the first steaming slice of heaven to my father.

“Just a woman, Ma.” I held up my plate as I waited to be served. My mother was traditional in many ways, refusing to let us serve ourselves. She was the one to dish out the food and to sit last.

She held the lasagna over my plate. “I’ve never seen you like this. You want your piece, baby? You hungry?”

“Hell yes.” I licked my lips and moved my plate closer to the piece hovering just out of reach.

“Then you’re going to tell me about her, yes? No information means no food.” She held the slice of lasagna to her nose and inhaled it. “Mm, it would be a shame for you to miss out on this meal.”

I sighed. Women—the root of the evil in this world. If pussy wasn’t so fucking perfect I’d swear off them for eternity.

“Fine, Ma. I’ll tell you about her after we eat. Can I please have a piece now?”

“Sure, baby. You can help me wash the dishes and tell me all about her.”

Fuck. “You’re an asshole, Iz.” Throwing me under the bus with Dean? Still seeing him?”

“Bella, you better not still be seeing that man. He’s nothing but trouble,” my mother said.

Iz glared at me across the table. Served her little gossipy ass right for airing my shit at the dinner table.

The conversation turned to sports and football, as it always did on Sunday. My grilling was soon forgotten as my brothers and Dad stuffed their faces and rubbed their stomachs. I finished my lasagna, wiping my plate clean with a piece of garlic bread, before picking up my phone again.

Suzy: WTF. I teach math—no clue what an interrogative is. Hello—I don’t get your angle.

Me: At the end of my linear path I have a point for you.

Did that make sense or did I just make a complete ass of myself? Fuck. This girl had me all fucked up. My parents always wanted their children to “settle down” and make babies, but I’d always been more interested in perfecting my skills and not wanting to get tied down, at least not after Joni. We didn’t marry young and follow their path in life, and I thought my parents were secretly proud of us for waiting. They were happily married and have been for over forty years—they tied the knot right out of high school. Times were different.

Suzy: Oooh, you know just the right things to say to a girl.

Me: Tuesday night = (dinner) + my linear path + your diameter

“Joey, grab your plate. We have a date with a sink and some dishes,” Ma said from behind me. I looked up at her and saw her smiling and reading over my shoulder. Fuck.

Suzy: No can do—grad classes. I’ll take a rain check.

I turned off my screen and placed it in my pocket. Nothing was secret or sacred in this fucking house.

“Everybody bring your plates in the kitchen. Come on. Clear off the table,” Ma said. The room filled with grumbles, but we all knew the drill. Thirty years later we didn’t need to be told what our roles were in this family. My father was the figurehead, my mother told everyone what to do, and we did as told without giving lip.

Ma waited for me by the sink as I set my plate on the counter. “Did you find someone?” She was beaming.

“I just met her, Ma,” I shooed her to the side so I could start tackling the dishes.

She threw the dishrag over her shoulder and eyed me. “Baby, the heart knows what the heart wants. Your sister told me you’ve been acting differently. It’s written all over your face. Sometimes fate steps in and throws you off the course we’ve set in life.”

“Don’t go crocheting baby blankets yet, Ma.”

She placed her hand on my shoulder as I scrubbed and avoided eye contact. “Joseph, I know the man you are. I know you’re guarded with your heart after Joni, but you have to open again sometime. You need to find someone to trust in life. Is this girl worthy of that trust? Is she worth the risk?”

“Ma, I barely know the chick.”

“Tsk, tsk. Someone doth protest too much.” She kissed my cheek, ruffling my hair. That shit made me crazy, but with my hands full of soap I had no other option but to let her do as she wished.

“I can see you’re not going to stop. She seems like a good person. She’s different, Ma. She seems genuine, but I’m not rushing into anything.”

“What about her? Is she madly in love with my baby boy?”

“Ma.” I should hate her calling me her baby boy, but my mother could call me anything in the world. I adored the woman. “She isn’t jumping on the Joey train. I don’t think she really wants to see me.”

“What? Why not?” She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re perfect.”

“That’s ’cause I’m your kid. I’m hardly perfect, Ma.” I cleaned the last dish and placed it in the rack to dry. “You don’t really know everything about me, no matter what you think.”

“I know more than you think, sweetheart. Iz has loose lips, you know.” I could beat my little sister’s ass. I’m sure she doesn’t tell my ma about all her love affairs. “I know you’re quite the ladies’ man. I’m not judging you, Joey. You never bring any girls around, but I know you.”

Fucking Iz. “When and if I find the one, Ma, you’ll be the first to know.” I kissed her cheek, and her radiant smile lit up the room. “Suzy sees me as a tattoo artist that rides a motorcycle and hangs out in shithole bars. I don’t exactly rank up there on her boyfriend material checklist.”

“I kinda like this girl already.” She giggled. I loved hearing the sound of her laughter. “She doesn’t know everything about you and our family?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, I don’t tell anyone about us, Ma.”

“Checklists are made to be changed. She needs to know the Joey I do. Are you going to ask her out? Makes her yours?”

“That’s what I was trying to do at the table, but she has class.”

“Ah, a smart girl too. Joey, don’t ask a girl out through text message. That’s what’s wrong with you kids today. She needs to hear your voice when you ask. Texting is too impersonal, and I’ll never understand it. Call the girl.”

“I will. I’ll call her later. Happy?”

My ma wrapped her arms around me and said, “Very.”

9

BROKEN RULES

SUZY

I COULDN’T GET him out of my mind, and it had been less than twenty-four hours since he dropped me off with a soul-stealing kiss. His cocky smile, his muscles, the way he touched me stayed with me long after he left. No one had made me want to break a rule more than he did. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on my lesson plans for the upcoming quarter, my mind drifted to him.

Trying to quiet my brain, I flipped on Catfish as I crawled in bed. It had been my guilty pleasure since this show began. I loved watching the train wrecks and the broken hearts of those that thought they fell in love with someone, only to find out that they weren’t who they pretended to be.

I used to tease Sophia and Kayden, my old roommates, mercilessly about how different their little tryst in New Orleans could’ve turned out. Their situation was different; they had mutual friends and had checked each other out, so they felt it was a sure thing.

On paper, Kayden and Sophia didn’t work—it wasn’t a match made in heaven—but their love was undeniable. It was electric. Sophia followed her heart, and his pull was inescapable for her. She fell for him hook, line, and sinker. I never understood it until I got to know Kayden. He wasn’t anything like I thought—his heart was pure, but his path in life had been different than mine. I’d never believe Sophia would find a guy without a college education and a criminal record to fall in love with, but they were the happiest couple I knew, and I wanted that kind of love.

My checklist had been realistic in theory, but City had me questioning my method and requirements. I’d dated men that fit on paper, but the chemistry lacked. City was just so City. I was approaching the end of my twenties, sitting in bed, eating bonbons, and watching Catfish alone.

I am happy, aren’t I?

My phone began to move across my nightstand. I popped the last morsel of chocolaty goodness in my mouth. “Herlo?”

“Hey, Suzette.” The vibration of his voice through the phone made my heart skip a beat as I swallowed the chocolate slowly. Damn, why did I have to eat that last piece before I answered? Herlo? I sounded like I had a speech problem.

“Oh, hey. How are you?” I grabbed the water on my nightstand and washed down the last bit of candy.

“I’m well, sugar. Whatcha doin’?” I heard rustling in the background. Were those his sheets? Was he naked?

“Just watching television, and I’m about to go to sleep, you?” I wiped the chocolate from my lips and licked my finger. These little bitches were so damn tasty.

“I just crawled in bed. What are you wearing?” he asked in a smooth timbre.

OMG, he didn’t just ask me that. I looked down. I had my ratty go-to clothes for when I lounged around the house. “Um, a tank top and flannel pajama pants.”

I could hear him laughing. “Really?”

“Yeah, why? What are you wearing?” Please don’t say you’re naked.

“Nothing, sugar.” Damn it all to hell. “You still there?”

“Yeah.” I knew he could hear the change in my tone, as it came out all breathy and quiet.

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

“I don’t know, City.” I wanted, God how I wanted to scream now, but I needed to think about him—us.

“Don’t deny you want me, Suzy. I can hear it in your voice. You’re thinking of my cock inside you and your lips on mine.”

My breath hitched as the images played like a movie in my mind. “I won’t deny it, but that doesn’t make it right,” I said, moving down in the sheets and turning off the television.

“I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, Suzette. I remember you having an earth-shattering time yesterday. I can still hear the sound you made when I made you come against my fingers.” A small moan escaped his lips.

My heart ached when he said he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend. What the hell? Stay on course—do not waiver from the list.

“It was the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard, sugar. The way your eyes rolled back and your body rocked into my hand. Fuck.”

I squeaked. OMG, lemme die. “City.”

“The taste of you on my tongue after. Fucking perfect. I’m rock hard thinking about you.”

“You are?” I whispered.

“Rock fucking hard.” His breathing changed like it had when he fucked me. I could never forget the sounds the man made when he came. “Friday night, Suzy. No excuses this time.”

“Okay. Friday.”

“Good. I’ll be thinking about that sweet pussy all week, sugar. Sweet dreams.” His words were drawn out and his tone was sexy as hell.

“Night,” I whispered back before the phone went quiet and his harsh breath disappeared. Listening to the man turned me on, and I wanted to run to his house and have sex with him, but I didn’t. Reaching into my nightstand, I grabbed my trusty battery-operated boyfriend of the last five years and thought of City as I climaxed. The orgasm didn’t compare to the one I’d had under his deft fingers. He fucking ruined one of my simple pleasures.

***

Fuck Monday mornings. I never wanted to get out of bed. I pulled in the school parking lot five minutes late before throwing my bags down in my classroom, and I headed to the copier to be prepped for class that started in ten minutes. Damn. I hated being rushed.

I tapped my finger against the copy machine as it slowly churned out each piece of paper. People walked in and out of the teacher work area with quick hellos and “happy Mondays.”

“What are you grinning about? It’s Monday and you never smile, bitch,” Sophia said behind me.

“I wasn’t smiling.” I turned around to see her grinning like a loon that had just escaped the funny farm.

“Oh, you were, sister. What happened?” Sophia always looked so put together and breathtaking.

“I have so much to tell you. I’ll come see you during my planning period.”

“By the look on your face I’d think you got laid this weekend. I’m not talking about a boring bullshit fucking either. You got fucked,” she whispered in my face. I felt my face flush. “You did, don’t lie, and I want every last detail.”

The homeroom warning bell blared, and I started to panic, grabbing my papers in a crazy heap. “I’ll be up third period. I’m going to be late, Sophia. I gotta run, babe.”

“I’ll hunt your ass down if you don’t show up,” Sophia said as I reached the door.

“I’ll be there, whore. Shut it.”

***

Sophia shut the door to her office. “Tell me, and I mean all of it.”

Sitting on the comfy old couch in her office, I rested my head against the wall. “What do you want to know?”

“Don’t play coy with me. You know more about my sex life than anyone else in the world. I want all the information, starting with who and when.”

Sophia sat at her desk and rested her head on her hand. “I met him Friday night.”

“Friday night? I don’t remember you meeting someone,” she said, her eyes looking upward as she replayed our time at the martini bar.

“After I left you. My car crapped out and this drop-dead gorgeous man stopped to help me.”

“Helped you out of your panties too, I presume?” She giggled and slapped the desk.

“Eventually.” I laughed. “I called you, but you didn’t answer. I went with him on his bike to call a tow, and ended up having a drink or two.”

“Bike? Like the ones the drunks ride around here with the electric motors, or are we talking smokin’ hot Harley action?”

“Smokin’ hot.”

“His name?”

“City, but it’s a nickname. When we left he asked where I wanted to go, and I told him I wanted him to take me to his house. I’d had too much to drink, because you know that just isn’t me.”

“Whatever. You’re dying to be naughty but those uptight pricks you date are missionary men. Bleh. Keep talking,” she commanded.

“Pushy wench, aren’t you? When he undresses, girl…” I sighed. “Oh. My. God. His body is covered in tattoos, his nipples are pierced, and he, and he…” I covered my mouth and tried to hide my grin.

“Breathe, Suzy. He what?”

“His penis was pierced too.” I swallowed, remembering how it looked.

“Oh, now I’m enthralled. So your ass breaks down, is rescued by a sexy-ass biker with tats and piercings, and…”

“I slept with him. More than once. I stayed the night, and he had me before breakfast too.”

“Have you talked to him since?”

“Yes, we went on a date Saturday night, and he wants to take me out again on Friday.”

“I know that look. What’s the problem?”

“He’s just not…isn’t what I’m looking for.” I frowned.

“Suzy, baby, listen to me. Do you like this man?”

“Yes.”

“As you would say, did he make your body tingle and make you scream?”

“Yes, more times than I can count.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“I do, but—”

“Fuck buts, girl.”

“He’s a tattoo artist and lives in an old house. He just doesn’t fit my checklist. He’s a biker, Sophia. What could we possibly have in common?”

“You and your damn lists. If I had a list I wouldn’t have Kayden and Jett. I can’t imagine my life without them. We can’t always control everything in life; sometimes life jumps up and smacks us in the face.”

“I know, Soph. He scares me,” I whispered.

“Has he hurt you?” She stood and walked toward me with her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth set in a hard line.

“No. I mean, I’m scared I could fall for him. I’ve never been with anyone like him, and I want to see him again. I’ve never had that spark, and with him it’s like lightning.”

Sophia sat down next to me and grabbed my face. “You listen to me, Suzy. You’re young and have your whole life ahead of you. If you want to be with him, then do it. Stop trying to fit everyone in your mold. Rules are made to be broken. Give the guy a chance, babe. He’s not asking you to marry him, is he?”

“No, he said he’s not asking me to be his girlfriend either.”

“Kayden wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but here we are, engaged with a baby. Sometimes life doesn’t give us what we’re looking for, but it gives us what is supposed to be. We just have to be willing to take the plunge. Live a little. Take a risk for once.”

I smiled and hugged her. “You’re right, Sophia, but I need some time and distance. So, Kayden still makes you happy even after everything?”

“I wouldn’t trade a moment I’ve had with him. He’s everything to me. My life’s complete, Suzy. You need to find that guy that makes you feel whole. The one that gives you a reason to wake up each morning.”

“So I should just enjoy the ride?” I wiggled my eyebrows at Sophia and laughed.

“In a matter of speaking, yes. Was it beautiful?”

“What?”

“His dick, Suzy. I’ve never seen a pierced one in person.”

“Oh my God, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“I’m so excited for you, Suz.” She bounced on the cushion, causing both of our bodies to shake. “When are you seeing him again?”

“Friday night. He didn’t give me an option to say no.”

“Smart man. You’re such a pussy at times—listen to your heart and not your mind for once, got me?”

“Yes, Mom. I understand.”

“Oh, and Suzy?”

“Yes?” I turned and looked at the grinning Sophia.

“I want pictures.”

“You’re such a whore.” I laughed as I walked out the door.

10

ANTICIPATION

CITY

ME: Are you in bed?

Suzy: Yes, you?

Me: Yep, just lying here thinking about you. 24 hours until I hear you scream my name again.

We’d been texting all day. I never looked forward to a simple phone call or text from any chick. I ached for her. I lived with a perpetual boner now. We didn’t have an exclusive deal, but the other girls didn’t seem to do it for me anymore. My dick didn’t ache for them. It wanted Suzy and her tight, sweet pussy.

Suzy: What’s your real name?

I thought I told her my name, but maybe I hadn’t.

Me: Joseph.

Suzy: Can I call you Joe or Joey?

Me: You can call me anything you want, sugar.

Suzy: Joey. It suits you.

I never felt like a Joey—it seemed childish, and the nickname City seemed to fit me better.

Me: Tank top and PJ pants?

Suzy: Yes. Y?

Me: Just want to know how to picture you as I stroke myself.

Craving the release, I stroked quicker, gripping it in my hand. I didn’t want to come too quickly tomorrow night—I wanted to savor her and feast on her body.

Me: I’m going to picture you with your legs on my shoulders and your beautiful tits bouncing from my dick, slamming into you.

I stroked myself as I waited for her reply, caressing the tip, toying with the ring, giving it a tug.

Suzy: That’s sexy. I can’t wait to suck on you. Feel your velvety hardness in my mouth.

Oh, the little girl could be dirty. Time to push the envelope.

Me: Tell me one of your fantasies.

I wanted there to be a bad girl underneath—someone that wanted to get dirty with me. I stroked my shaft slowly and pictured her tight cunt milking me.

Suzy: Really?

Nothing was easy with this one.

Me: Yes, pick one.

Suzy: I always wanted someone to take me from behind and for him to hold my wrists at my side so I can’t move.

Fuck me, it was a start at least. I wanted to pound her into next week. I wanted her so bad I thought my dick would break in my hand.

Me: What else? More.

Suzy: I always heard choking was amazing.

I stroked my cock faster and harder than I had before. I pictured my hands wrapped around her throat, watching her face turn pink, and feeling her clawing my chest as I rammed my cock into her. The warm liquid spurted, landing on my abdomen before I could stop.

Me: Fuck, sugar. You just made me come so fuckin’ hard.

Suzy: OMG.

Me: Are you touching yourself?

I grabbed my shirt off the floor and wiped up the mess that I created lost in my mental fuckfest.

Suzy: Yes! You do things to me, Joey, things I’ve never felt before.

Me: Wait till tomorrow, sugar. Put a finger inside yourself.

No reply. She must be following my command. Fucking perfect.

Me: Don’t type; just watch the screen, Suzette.

Me: I’m going to fuck you from behind and hold your wrists so tight in my grip that your fingers will go numb. My cock’s going to throb inside of you—hit every spot that makes you scream, sugar.

How in the fuck was I getting a boner already?

Me: When I see your body grow flush and dew on your skin, I’m going to wrap my hands around your throat from behind and apply pressure until you’re gasping for air and milking my cock for more.

Me: Come for me, sugar.

I lay in bed and pictured her touching herself. Down, boy—fuck.

Suzy: You’re bad for me, Joey.

Me: Who the fuck wants to be good? Sweet dreams, beautiful.

Suzy: Night, Joey. I’m looking forward to the ride tomorrow night bahaha

I turned off my ringer and stared at the ceiling. I planned to give her more than she could handle and make all of her fantasies come true. Suzy was getting to me and cracking the well-built wall around my heart I’d created after Joni’s death. Air—I need air. I jumped out of bed and put on a t-shirt and jeans. I needed to think, and I did that best on the open road.

I revved the engine a couple of times, put on my riding glasses, and cracked my neck. The roads were clear. The cold weather kept most of the snowbirds that traveled south off the roads, especially at night. I kicked the bike in top speed and felt the wind lash my exposed skin and blow through my hair.

I rode for over an hour, winding through the country roads before pulling in my driveway after midnight. My muscles vibrated and I felt exhausted. My mind was too tired to think of anything but my bed.

***

After grabbing my keys and jacket off the couch, I headed outside. Even though the calendar read October, the air was sticky and the sun made my skin burn—but I knew there would be a chill in the air tonight. Florida’s winters were bipolar. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold—a totally fucking guessing game to keep you on your toes.

I tried to use Suzy’s crazy-ass fucking method—I made a mental checklist while I drove. She had pros—fucking beauty, smart as hell, kick-ass career, independent, kind, innocent—but she also had cons. She was too fucking innocent and she could crush my heart into a million fucking pieces. Think, man. She has to have other fucking flaws. I liked the geeky girl underneath the hot, beautiful body. She wasn’t used up and bitter from her experiences.

I walked in the shop early to find Mikey sitting at the front desk, rifling through the papers. “Morning, Mikey.”

“Hey, bro, how’s it hanging?”

“Little to the left,” I said, adjusting myself.

“Never pegged you for a lefty. Thought maybe down the middle.”

“Fucker, how could it hang down the middle? You need your head checked or some shit?”

“You know, maybe you weren’t blessed with the Gallo family genes. Just sayin.’”

“Dumb fuck. You’ve seen my dick—you pierced the motherfucker for me.”

Mikey chuckled. “I know, fucker. Just yanking your fucking chain. Touchy this morning, aren’t we?”

I threw my bag next to my chair and walked up to the desk.

“Not touchy, Mike. This fuckin’ girl is stuck in my head.”

Mikey shook his head and started to laugh. “Ah, she’s cracking that cold, dead heart of yours?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I’m seeing her again tonight. What the fuck am I doing, man?”

“Pussy. She got good shit, huh?” He grinned.

“Platinum pussy. Has my brain all fuckin’ jumbled up, man.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Makes two of us,” I mumbled.

“Listen, you want anyone else fucking her?” he asked as he placed his hand on my shoulder. He was always into love and touching, and it made me batshit crazy.

The thought of anyone else touching Suzy made me want to fucking vomit, or beat the shit out of the bastard. “Fuck no, I want to be the only one inside her. I don’t like sloppy seconds.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

“Fucking hell.” I shook my head and stared at the floor.

“Doesn’t mean you have to marry her, Joey. Just make sure she doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. Make her yours—take the leap.”

“For once, Mikey, you’re right. Fucking miracle.” I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wanted her and couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her or kissing her beautiful lips.

“You know I always got your back. It’s been years, man. Joni would want you to be happy.” He grabbed the schedule off the counter as the door chimed and the rest of the Gallo pack walked through the doors. “Would they have been friends—Joni and this girl?”

They had some similarities. Joni would think Suzy was funny as hell and sweet. “Yeah, they probably would have liked each other.”

“She doesn’t want you alone, wherever she is.”

“Thanks, Mikey.” Waiting for everyone to get settled, I grabbed my phone and sent Suzy a message about tonight.

Me: You’re mine tonight, Suzette.

11

FRIDAY ~ WORLDS COLLIDE

SUZY

THE DAY DRAGGED ON, and the students were in a foul mood. I needed the weekend to start. When the lunchtime bell rang, I walked in my office, plopping in my chair as I let my head fall back. “Jesus,” I muttered. I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the stillness in the air, since the kids had cleared the building. Two more class periods—I could do it.

I opened my drawer, grabbed my container of leftover pasta, and searched for my phone. I hoped City messaged me—I needed something to brighten up this shit day. I looked at the screen and my stomach fluttered. I was “his” tonight. What did he mean? Sexually?

I never liked to be called Suzette, but the way it sounded coming out of his mouth made my breath hitch. He always seemed to whisper it in my ear or say it against my lips, and it drove me crazy. I wanted to hear him say my name tonight.

Me: Only tonight?

Hell, did I just sound needy?

City: All things are possible.

What the hell did that mean?

“Hello. Suzy, you in here?” I heard Sophia calling from the door.

“In my office,” I yelled, grabbing a forkful of noodles.

Sophia stood in the doorway and made a sound of disgust. “I don’t know how you eat that Ragu shit cold. Bleh.” She scrunched her nose, opened her mouth, and stuck her finger inside, pretending to gag.

“Hey, Mama Guido, what are you doing slumming it down here?” I stuck the noodle in my mouth and made a face at her.

“Kayden and I were talking, and we wanted to know if you and the cock piercing wanted to come over for a barbecue tonight?”

“You just want to molest him with your eyes.”

“No, I don’t. I have my hunk. Kayden still makes me tingle thinking about him.” She made a silly face and shook her body like just the thought of him brought her pleasure. “I want to meet this guy and see if he’s worthy of my little Suzy. Plus, Kayden could use a little pick-me-up. Maybe they can be friends and we can double date.” She rested her body against the door with her leg crossed in front of the other and her arms folded. I always had a hard time saying no to Sophia.

“Well, I’d have to ask him. I don’t know what he had planned.”

“Send me an email after you ask him. It’ll be fun. Don’t take no for an answer. You’ve piqued my curiosity about this man that has you all types of insane. I mean, sweetie, I’ve always known you were crazy, but he has you questioning everything in your perfect little mapped out life. I must meet him.”

“Fine, Soph. Let me ask him.”

Me: BBQ at my friends’ place tonight. You game?

“There, I asked. It’s up to him now. Happy?” I grabbed a huge forkful and slowly placed it in my mouth—anything to gross Sophia out. She was the queen of sauce and meatballs. I missed when the house used to fill with the smell of her cooking. I’d come home after a long day and Kayden would have something divine on the stove. Now it was Ragu and me against the world.

“Ugh, I can’t stand here and watch you eat that shit.”

My phone chirped. “Wait,” I said as she walked away from my office. “Incoming.”

“So?”

City: Sounds fanfuckingtastic. What time shall I give you a “ride”?

“Um,” I said as I felt the heat creep into my cheeks. “He wants to know what time we should arrive.”

“He talks all proper like that?”

“Nope, but that’s all you’re getting. Time, please?”

She sighed. “Eight, okay? If you’re gonna be late just let me know, whoreface. Bye,” she said as the door closed behind her.

Me: Sophia said to be there at eight. Pick me up around ten till to be there on time—Sophia doesn’t do late.

I knew that Sophia would take one look at City and practically be doing cartwheels. She’d never liked any man I had seen since we became friends. I flipped through the paperwork from my mailbox this morning as I waited for City to respond.

City: I’ll be there at six thirty. Be ready for me, because I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock. I have plans for that pussy before we go to the BBQ.

OMG, OMG, OMG.

Me: I’ll be waiting with bells on.

Five minutes left before the next barrage of hooligans walked through the door. My afternoon classes were murder. They weren’t bad kids, but they were challenging and mentally draining.

City: Naked—no fucking bells.

A fire ignited in my body as I read the screen. It’s on like Donkey Kong.

12

PASSING THE TEST

CITY

“COMING,” a female voice from inside yelled.

“I remember you saying those very words twenty minutes ago,” I growled in Suzy’s ear.

Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as she bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. Suzy pushed her hair off her shoulders and fixed her shirt, as though she wanted everything perfect and in place.

“Stop fidgeting, sugar.”

“Oh my God, I can’t. Sophia is going to take one look at me and know what we did,” she said, dabbing her fingers at the corner of her lips.

“If she doesn’t, then I didn’t do it right.”

A beautiful brunette opened the door with a smile. She looked me over, starting at my face, and then her eyes raked over my body. I felt almost violated by the way she appraised me. She looked at Suzy with a devilish grin and opened her arms. The girls exchanged hugs and whispered words that I couldn’t hear, but Sophia’s eyes didn’t leave mine.

“Sophia, this is City.”

“Nice to meet you, Sophia.” I extended my hand to her. Sophia’s hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun that sat on top of her head. She had a bright white smile and kind eyes.

She placed her hand in mine. “Nice to finally meet you, City. I’ve heard all about you.” She winked.

A grin crept across my face—I guessed I got the thumbs-up from her friend. “Nice things, I hope.”

“She spoke very big of you.” She giggled, and I felt my cheeks heat. I could tell these girls together were going to be a handful. “Come on in. Kayden and Jett are out on the patio starting the grill.”

I extended my arm for Suzy to walk in front of me, and I watched both girls walk inside as I stayed close behind. They lived in a small apartment that was decorated with mismatched pieces that all worked. SportsCenter was on the television, and baby things were scattered everywhere.

“Don’t mind the mess. Children have a way of overtaking everything, no matter how small.” Sophia waved her hands around and picked up small toys off the floor before tossing them in a basket near the television stand.

The door to the patio opened and a tall, muscular man holding a baby walked into the living room. His head was clean-shaven, and he looked like someone that I’d find down at the Neon Cowboy—or a guy who would walk in my shop for some work.

“Kayden, baby, Suzy brought her new beau, City.”

Kayden eyed me warily. I held out my hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Kayden. Suzy talks very highly of you and Sophia.”

Kayden placed the baby in the crook of his left arm before extending his right hand to me. “Glad to meet you, City.” He squeezed my hand tightly, almost to the point of pain, but I didn’t dare pull away. I knew the fuckin’ macho bullshit. He was staking his claim on Sophia and giving me a silent warning with Suzy.

“Oh, Jett, come here, baby.” Reaching for Jett, Suzy plucked him from Kayden’s arms.

“No hello, Suzy? How are you, Kayden? I’ve missed you, Kayden. Just oooh, Jett.” Kayden laughed.

“Oh now, Kayden, you know I love you. Gimme a kiss,” she said, puckering her lips and closing her eyes.

My heart raced with the thought of Kayden placing his lips on hers. I squeezed my hands into fists. They were just friends. Kayden planted a kiss on her cheek as he rubbed the head of his child before walking into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around his wife.

“He’s gotten so big,” Suzy said as she bounced the baby in her arms, patting his butt. She looked natural with a child in her arms, like it was something she did every day. Her eyes lit up as Jett gripped her thumb.

“He’s growing like a weed,” Sophia said from the kitchen. “What do you guys want to drink? City, what can I get you?”

“I’ll take a beer if you got one.”

Suzy’s eyes grew wide and her nostrils flared, and I didn’t know what I said, but obviously I’d fucked up somehow. “But it’s okay if you don’t. I’ll really drink anything.”

“Coming right up. Suzy? Virgin daiquiri, babe?” Sophia snickered as she opened the fridge and began to dig around.

“What did I say wrong?” I whispered in her ear.

“Kayden doesn’t drink. He’s an alcoholic and has been clean for about a year now.” She looked at Kayden and Sophia before returning her attention on the cooing baby in her arms.

“I didn’t know. Shit, you should’ve given me a heads-up, sugar.”

“I’m sorry. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay, City. It’s not something the ladies like to talk about. It’s always the giant elephant in the room,” Kayden said as he handed me the beer. “I can be around alcohol and not drink.” He sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Sit down; let the ladies work their magic in the kitchen. We’ll take care of the meat, like God intended.”

“I don’t want to hear about your meat, Kayden.” Suzy snickered.

“Kitchen, Suzy, but let Sophia cook.” He pointed at her then toward the kitchen, and snapped his fingers.

“I can cook, Kayden,” she said as she rubbed her nose against the baby’s face before handing the baby to Kayden and walking away.

“City, Suzy can’t cook a lick. She’s the queen of pre-made. Just an FYI,” he said as he cradled the baby and ran his finger along the chubby cheek.

Sitting on the couch, I set my beer on my knee and relaxed. “Eh, I can cook, so it’s not a deal-breaker for me. Bucs fan?”

“Fuck no, Browns fan born and bred.” He stretched out, placing his free hand behind his head.

“No shit? You like an underdog or abuse?” I smiled before lifting the beer to my lips.

“I stay true to my roots, you?”

“Bears fan. No other way to be.”

“They’ve had some fuckin’ horrible seasons, but the Browns have the market cornered on losing.”

“Give ya that,” I said as I tipped my beer toward him. “Suzy said you three lived together.”

“Yep, for a while. She was a lifesaver, and I owe her. Don’t fucking break her heart—I’ll beat the fuck out of you.” He laughed. “Seriously, you’ll have a few more holes to match the ones you currently have.”

What? I could see the girls had talked about me in detail. “Not my plan,” I said. “Suzy isn’t like other girls.”

Suzy leaned against the counter and watched Sophia as they chatted. They looked over at us and started laughing.

“No, she’s not. She’s kind, pure, and too trusting. I feel like she’s my little sister, and I’ll protect her like she’s my family.”

“Gotcha. Loud and clear.”

“You boys done with your pissing match?” Sophia said as she walked in the room with a plate of burgers. “These won’t cook themselves.”

“Let me handle the meat,” Kayden said, handing Jett back to Suzy.

“That’s what she said.” Sophia chuckled. Kayden grabbed the plate from her and kissed her on the lips. She looked at him with a dopy grin as he backed away.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you handle my meat later.”

“Not in front of our guests,” Sophia said as she smacked him on the shoulder.

“They’re kind of nauseating aren’t they?” Suzy stood next to me and rocked Jett in her arms. His eyes were almost closed as he sucked his fingers.

“A bit.” I felt content with the three of them. I could almost feel the bond that they had, the love for each other.

“They’ve endured more than most people have in a lifetime, and they came out on the other side with an unbreakable bond. Someday I’ll tell you their story. If fate is real, they’re the perfect example. They were made for each other.” She smiled as she watched them on the patio.

They touched each other and kissed, never moving apart. His actions portrayed adoration for his woman. “Are they married?”

“Not yet. Someday, I hope. They’ve both been married before, and they use that as an excuse not to rush into things.” She curled her lips up and rolled her eyes. “I remind them that they have a baby. I guess I’m old-fashioned.” She shrugged.

I made sure not to fuck that up. I never fucked without a condom or took that kind of risk. “I was brought up that way too, but you can’t deny what they have. I’m sure they’ll do it in time.”

***

The evening was relaxing, and I liked talking with Kayden. He didn’t bullshit, and Sophia was something else. She was a spitfire, and loved to tease Suzy mercilessly. “Did I pass the test with your friends?” I asked as we climbed on my bike.

“You did well. You got the thumbs-up from Sophia.”

“She’s not the one I’m worried about.”

“Kayden? Oh, please. He likes to talk all his macho crap, but he’s the sappy one. He just wants me happy, City.”

“He said he’d kick my ass if I broke your heart, sugar.”

She wrapped her arms around me as I walked the bike away from the building, trying not to be too noisy. “Kayden’s been known to take matters into his own hands, but I’ll set him straight about us,” she said in my ear, chuckling.

“Whatcha mean?” I said as I started the engine.

“Oh, nothing.” She rested her head against my shoulder and toyed with my nipple piercing. It was the first time I didn’t feel her tense against my body when riding on the back of the bike. Maybe she was finally letting go and enjoying herself without overanalyzing the situation.

13

FORK IN THE ROAD

SUZY

I HAD BECOME USED to being the third wheel around Sophia and Kayden, but tonight everything just felt right. Kayden and City had laughed and talked about sports for hours as Sophia and I talked about work and Jett.

I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I couldn’t waste time with City. My heart ached around Kayden and Sophia, and I envied them, wanted what they had—that great love, the one that you can feel and almost touch, and I wouldn’t settle for anything less. I had to walk away from City and move forward in my life.

Tears formed in my eyes while I thought about having to give him up as we pulled in and I climbed off the bike. I put my helmet on the bike and started to walk away from City. I didn’t want him to see the glistening in my eyes.

“Where you hurrying off to?” Reaching out, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me into his arms.

“Nowhere, I was just going to unlock the door.” I shrugged, keeping my arms down and not melting into his touch.

“You okay, sugar?” he asked, looking at my eyes with a question on his face.

“Yeah. The wind made my eyes water.” I smiled at him.

“Glasses will block the wind. We’ll have to get you a pair.”

Thank God he bought that crock of shit. He wrapped his arms around me, smashing my face in his t-shirt. I inhaled, enjoying the musky scent in the material. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the smell of him.

“Maybe.” I felt shitty and my heart ached. Why bother buying me glasses? I didn’t plan to spend the rest of my life riding on the back of his bike. Although Sophia and Kayden were opposites, they worked, but City and I didn’t have a future.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, squeezing me tighter.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” I squeezed him back and relished in the feel of his tight muscles. Don’t say it; don’t look like a girl whose head is filled with fairytales.

“Sugar, that’s bullshit. You’ve never walked away from me or been snippy. Your sparkle’s gone. Spill.”

Don’t do it. He isn’t your knight in shining armor riding in on a white horse.

Shifting my weight, I stared at the ground, trying to avoid his gaze. “Nothing, City. I just need sleep. I swear.” That lie felt easier than I’d thought.

“Look me in the eyes and say that.” He pulled my chin up, forcing me to look into the clear azure eyes that showed sadness. I swallowed hard and steadied my breathing. I knew he could read me like an open book, everyone could, and I had to pull this off. Don’t cry or blink, girl—breathe.

“I’m just tired, really.” I stood on my tiptoes and placed my lips against his. This would be the last time I’d kiss him. I couldn’t spend more time with him without risking my heart. I could fall in love with him easily, but I wouldn’t risk the heartbreak that would follow. “Call me tomorrow?” I said as I backed away.

“You don’t want me to come in, beautiful?” he asked, drawing his brows together and studying my face.

“Not tonight, City. I want to crawl in bed and drift off. If you come in, I know what will happen.” I grinned at him as a sly smile spread across his face. He ran his finger down my cheek, and I wanted to lean in to it—I wanted more. “No, no. Don’t even think about it.” I giggled as he tried pulling me into a kiss. “Down, tiger.”

“Tomorrow then,” he said as he kissed me on the lips.

I instantly felt the loss of his heat as he let go of my body, and I looked at him. He really was beautiful. He looked like every girl’s fantasy with his bike behind him, hard muscles, dreamy eyes, and kindness. I couldn’t let myself fall any deeper for him. Every time my phone rang, my text alert chirped, or I stood in his presence, my heart raced. My heart and body responded to him, but my mind kept saying run. He wasn’t the type that settled down and had a family, and I couldn’t blame him. He was a playboy that led a different life than I did. He was on a different path.

I stood at a fork in the road—travel down the path of heartbreak and further immerse myself in his world, or make a clean break and continue on my journey to my ultimate destination of happiness and the love I couldn’t live without.

“Tomorrow, big boy,” I said with a meek smile, and waved to him before disappearing inside the house without watching him drive away. I threw my keys on the table, walking through the darkened house to my bedroom. My eyes felt heavy, and they burned from the tears that wanted to break free.

The roar of his engine made the walls in my bedroom rattle. I’d never hear that sound again without thinking of him and feeling butterflies in my stomach. He’d altered my thoughts and invaded my mind.

I undressed and put on my favorite comfy pajamas, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I wanted to turn back the clock to a time when life felt simpler. When I didn’t know the pure animal magnetism and sexual chemistry like I felt with him, but I couldn’t. He ruined me and stole that from me.

My phone vibrated as I turned it in my hand and caught a glimpse of his message.

City: It’s tomorrow—one minute after midnight.

Setting the phone on my nightstand, I stared at the empty bed and thought of how different the night could’ve been.

Me: Night, City. Drive safely.

I crawled under the sheets, loving the crisp material against my skin. I stared at the ceiling and watched the fan whirl, causing a shadow to form against the white background. I couldn’t fall asleep, and turned on the television, praying that the mindless entertainment would help calm my thoughts and help me forget him.

My phone danced across the wooden surface. Don’t pick it up. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to see if I could break free of him—quit cold turkey like a junkie. I had to try to put distance between us. I’d only known him a week, but he invaded my life.

Flipping through the channels, I stopped on a show about a group of bikers. I’d heard about the show but never found interest in it until now. I couldn’t bring myself to turn it off. Every man on the screen reminded me of him. The roar of the engines made my heart flutter and my stomach hurt. Curling on my side, I hugged the pillow as tears poured out, plopping on the material. I wanted to feel the wind in my hair and my arms wrapped around his body, but it could never happen again. My eyes burned as I gave in and drifted off to the sound of roaring engines.

***

I woke to a couple of messages from City wishing me good morning and asking when I could see him again. Leaving my phone on my nightstand, I made a glass of tea and sat on my front step sipping the warm cinnamon liquid. The neighborhood was quiet as a few couples walked down the sidewalks and children played in the front yard down the street. I stared at the sun shimmering off the wet grass and thought about him. I couldn’t sit here all day and think about him. I had to find something to do today to keep my mind off him and move toward my future.

I needed a shower, had to wash his scent off me and start my day. No more wallowing in self-pity and the whirlwind that I’d lived for the last week. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, but there were no new messages from City. Maybe he got the hint after I didn’t send him a good morning text.

The ringing of my phone made me jump as I waited for the water to warm. I walked to the phone slowly and peeked at the screen—relief flooded me as I saw that it was Derek and not City.

“Hey,” I said, as I stood there naked, staring in the mirror, the fog blurring my reflection.

“Hi, Suzy. What are you doing later?” Derek had a deep voice, but it didn’t have half the effect on me that City’s voice did.

“Not much, just about to jump in the shower. What’s up?”

His sharp intake of air made it evident that he had just pictured me naked. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner tonight and maybe play some mini-golf. Do you want to go with me?”

“Oh, well…” I gnawed on my thumbnail and debated a date with Derek. He worked on paper, and we ran in the same circles. Our worlds were similar and we could relate to each other. Maybe he was the path that I needed to follow—or at least he’d help keep my mind off City.

“Come on, Suzy. We’ll have fun. What do you say?” His voice was hopeful. Couldn’t blame a guy for being persistent—he’d never taken no for an answer.

“Okay, Derek.” I ran my hands down the bare skin between my breasts, loving the feel of the softness. I instantly felt like crap for saying yes when all I wanted to do was run to City.

“It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“See you at six.”

“Great. I can’t wait to see you tonight. Bye for now, Suzy.”

“Bye, Derek.” I heard him celebrating his victory before the line went dead.

I stood in the shower and daydreamed about City before touching myself, relieving the ache between my legs. The orgasm wasn’t as satisfying as I had hoped. It dulled the need I felt for City. I craved the earth-shattering orgasms I felt under his deft fingertips, but I couldn’t let my sexual desire cloud my judgment.

City sent me two more text messages before Derek picked me up for dinner. I ignored the urge to reply and finished my makeup, smacking my red lipstick together before running the brush through my hair one last time. The tight black miniskirt and yellow tank top helped show off my fading tan. Soon the winter cold and weakened sun would cause my skin to return to its almost ghostly shade of white. Grabbing my strappy black stilettos out of the closet, I thought of that last time I’d worn them—the night City rode into my life. I put my favorite Reef sandals in my purse for later, when my feet ached and we played mini-golf.

The chime of the doorbell snapped me out of my memories of the first night in City’s bed. Opening the door, I took in the sight of Derek in a pair of khaki dress pants and crisp white linen shirt, with his toes peeking out from the fabric around his feet. His smile beamed as his eyes roamed my body, taking in my outfit before stopping on my breasts. He licked his lips before he settled on my face with a goofy smile.

“Wow, you look sexy, Suzy.” His nostrils flared as his gaze drifted down my body again.

The way he looked at me made my skin crawl. “Thanks, you look great too.” He did look nice, but not heart-stopping or panty-dropping.

He held out his hand to me. “Ready?”

I placed my fingers against his smooth palm, “Yeah,” I said, although I was anything but.

Derek opened the door to his beat-up Nissan Altima, waiting for me to climb in before he kissed my hand and slammed the door.

I sighed as I watched him walk around the car, a brilliant and victorious smile on his face. “God, this is a horrible idea,” I mumbled to myself as he opened the door and climbed in.

“What did you say?” he asked as he climbed in, closed the door, and looked at me.

“Just saying how hungry I am. Where are we eating?”

He brushed the hair off my shoulder, gliding his fingertips across my skin, lingering longer than felt comfortable. My body involuntarily moved away from his touch. “Sorry,” he said as he turned away and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from his firm grasp. “We’re going to Paesano’s for some Italian, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds great.”

I stared out the window, watching the trees pass by as Derek chattered about work. I looked forward to my weekends and escaping the stress and my job, but that was all Derek wanted to talk about. I listened to his words and answered when asked a question, but he already bored me. Thankful that the drive to the restaurant wasn’t long, I climbed out of the car as Derek jogged to me and grabbed my arm, hooking them together.

The conversation during dinner was stagnant. We didn’t have much in common besides work. It became evident as he talked about video games. My idea of a great night did not involve playing a mindless game on the television. When the food finally arrived, I found myself thankful for the silence as he shoveled the food in his mouth without care. He ate like a pig, with sauce from his pasta dribbling on his chin and resting at the corners of his mouth. I moved the food around on my plate, trying not to stare.

“You want to go for some drinks after here or you want to go to mini-golf?” he asked with a full mouth, a small piece of pasta falling in his lap.

Why the hell did I think this was a good idea? “Drinks sound great.” I prayed that a few drinks would make him interesting and have the evening end on a high note.

We skipped dessert and headed to Club Karma for drinks. The club had opened a couple months ago, but I hadn’t set foot inside. It had a big-city feel, not like the typical small-town hangouts. The walls were blood red, decorated with black-and-white photos of couples in various sexual positions and states of undress. Colorful lights bounced off the shiny black tile floor as dancers moved their bodies against each other. There were small seating areas with couches filled with couples laughing and touching, and a large bar on the opposite side of the entrance.

“Drink first?” Derek asked. I nodded and looked around as he guided me through the overcrowded space. Derek rested his body against the bar, his arm touching my skin. “You want to dance?” he shouted in my ear above the music.

I shook my head and waited for the bartender to come in our direction. A large mirror hung above the liquor bottles on the wall behind the serving area. Watching people dance with such erotic and methodical moves made me think of City and our dance last weekend. I never felt sexy on the dance floor, but with him I had been able to feel the music instead of thinking of my next move.

I ordered a martini, wanting the alcohol over a virgin daiquiri, needing to forget City and find a way to make Derek more palatable. His arm brushed against my back as he rested his hand on the bar, effectively trapping me. I ignored him, staring into the mirror as the bartender placed my drink on the bar.

I took a sip, testing the sweetness of the raspberry martini. This whole night had been a bad idea. I knew it from the moment I accepted his invitation to dinner. I wouldn’t have said yes to him if I weren’t trying to forget the tall, muscular Italian man.

“Suzy,” Derek whispered in my ear, further invading my personal space.

“What?” I said into the glass still pressed against my lips.

“Drink up, babe, because I can’t wait to get you out there.” Derek bobbed his head like a character in a skit from Saturday Night Live. I could see his reflection in the mirror, and my cheeks felt heated at the thought of someone seeing me with him.

“Uh huh.” I didn’t turn to look at him but kept my eyes on the scene in the mirror, like I was watching a television show. I’d find a way to stall. I couldn’t go on to the dance floor with him. No way in hell would that happen. He didn’t have the ability to make me dance like City had, and his awkward movements would only draw more awareness to us, when all I wanted to do was blend in.

His fingers touched the skin of my arms and hand as I fought every urge to kick him in the balls. He rambled on about his clubbing days in college and how he mastered the dance floor and people would stop to watch him “bust a move.” Almost spitting my drink out, I broke out into laughter, tears forming in my eyes. I could imagine the scene. Derek thought people stopped to admire his ability, when in actuality they were stunned or entertained beyond belief.

“What’s so funny?” His lips were turned into a frown as he moved his head away from mine and stared at me.

“Oh, nothing, Derek. Just something I remembered from college.” God, I had always been a shitty liar, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. The man had confidence, and who was I to kill it?

“Ah, okay. I thought you were laughing at me.” He shrugged before sipping his beer and wiping his lips on his shoulder. “Come on, just one dance,” he begged, and released me from my human cage.

I sloshed the pink liquid in my glass, now half drained, and lifted it to my lips. I owed him at least one dance for his efforts. I swallowed the last mouthful and placed it on the bar. “Just one.”

His eyes lit up as he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the writhing bodies in the middle of the room. The beat of the music made me unable to feel my pulse, even though I knew it had to be hammering. I wanted to throw up at the thought of anyone watching me make an ass out of myself. Just as we reached the spot that Derek wanted, dead center, the DJ switched songs. Fuck, why me? A sad, slow melody filled the air as Derek pulled me into an embrace. I’d rather make a complete asshole out of myself with a wicked beat that didn’t require touching.

“Perfect,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, his hands resting a little too close to my ass.

Placing my hands on his shoulders, I tried to keep some distance between us, but Derek didn’t get the hint. His body felt nothing like City’s; there was no hardness to it. Derek’s hands roamed my back as he swayed our bodies side to side to the music, and I gave in, letting him control our movement. He didn’t speak as he moved us back and forth to the beat. Time passed slowly, and I felt like I had been wrapped in his arms for hours with no escape.

When the song ended, Derek broke the embrace and backed up to look at me. He gave me a silly grin, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I yelled as the music began to thump through the speakers.

“The dance, Suzy. I loved having you in my arms,” he said, as he reached for my hand and kissed the top.

“You’re a sweet guy, Derek.” I blushed. He wasn’t a bad guy—he just wasn’t City.

“Another drink?”

“If I didn’t know any better, Derek, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

He smiled, his face turning pink as he pushed on my back and led me off the dance floor. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

We passed a set of couches, and something drew my attention. There before me was a woman in a skintight, barely there dress with red stiletto heels and long brown hair. The woman didn’t draw my attention, but the man whose lap she sat on was City. He didn’t notice me as he talked to her, giving her his total attention. His hand rested on her ass as she nibbled on his lips. I wanted to throw up. He didn’t seem to have a problem forgetting me.

Bile rose in my throat at the sight of the two of them together. I’d spent the entire day trying to forget him without success, but he had moved on to someone else. “I’ll take you up on that offer, Derek.” No longer able to watch City with another woman, I walked to the bar with Derek right behind me. Derek only had eyes for me tonight, and the smile on his face made it clear that I had made him happy with my response.

Even though I had been the one that ignored him, it still stung to see him enjoying the company of another woman. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” the bartender asked me as she leaned against the bar with a smile.

“Shot of anything sweet and another raspberry martini, please.”

“I’ll have another Miller,” Derek said before she walked away. “A shot, huh?”

“It’s Saturday night and I could use a little something stronger.”

“I didn’t know you were a drinker, Suzy.” He grabbed our drinks, pushing mine in front of me before throwing down a twenty for the bartender.

“I’m not, but what the hell. Why not?” I shrugged before picking up the shot and smelling it. Raspberry something or other, but I wasn’t quite sure. It would do the job and help dull the pang of jealousy I felt from seeing City with the girl in red. “To life and love,” I said, raising my glass before swallowing the sweet concoction.

Derek tipped his beer in my direction and watched me as he raised it to his lips. “Why aren’t you taken?” he asked from behind the brown bottle.

I shrugged. “Looking for the right one.” The martini sloshed the glass as I brought it to my lips too quickly. One drink and a shot and I didn’t give a fuck that some of it splashed on my breasts. Tears stung my eyes as I gulped the martini and hoped that it would put my brain in a temporary haze. The feel of a hand touching my breast caused me to jerk, sending the last bit of raspberry heaven to the floor. “What the fuck?” I said, looking down to see Derek’s hand move away from my breast.

“Sorry.” He grinned. “Just thought I’d help you with that little spill.” He sucked on his fingers as he stared at my chest.

I snarled as I put my face close to his. “No matter how drunk I am, you don’t touch me without asking. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, raising his hand to salute me.

What a cocksucker. Poking him in the chest, I spoke very slowly. “I mean it, smartass. Do. Not. Touch. Me.” Turning away, I looked in the mirror and saw the red dress still sitting on City’s lap, and my fingernails dug into the wooden bar.

“Okay, Suzy. Let me make it up to you, since I made you spill your drink. Let me buy you another?”

I closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose, before turning my attention back to Derek. “I don’t think so, Derek. Will you just take me home?”

“One more, Suzy. I swear I’ll keep my hands to myself. I don’t want the night to end like this. Please.”

I studied his face, and he looked genuine, with a sad smile and pleading eyes. I held up my index finger to him. “One more and then I want to go.”

“Excellent.” He raised his hand in the air and snapped his fingers, grabbing the attention of the bartender.

As I leaned against the bar, my eyes kept wandering back to the mirror. The third martini was easier to drink; my legs felt weak and the bar became necessary to keep me from tipping over. Derek chattered in my ear and kept his distance as we polished off our third drinks.

“Ready?” he asked as he set the empty bottle on the counter.

“Are you okay to drive?” I asked. I may be drunk, but I knew enough to ask.

“Yeah, I can handle more than three beers, babe.”

Hearing the word “babe” come out his mouth when he spoke made me want to throw up on his shoes. Everything about him made me crazy, and I knew that I’d never go on another date with Derek. On paper he seemed right, but in person he was a creepy mess that revolted me and did nothing for my libido.

“Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my purse and walked on unsteady legs toward the door, leaving Derek to walk behind me.

“You want to hold my hand?”

“Why?” I stopped and turned to face him, almost falling over. I’d had too much to drink and didn’t realize it until now.

“Because you’re walking funny. Just hold on to my arm until we get to the car.” He held out his hand and waited for me to take it.

He didn’t grin or smile, and I believed he was sincere in his offer. Clearly the alcohol had made my brain fuzzy. I didn’t hold his hand, but snaked my arm through his and leaned on his body as I swayed through the parking lot, thankful when we made it to his car.

Leaning against the car, I waited for him to open the door. I closed my eyes and soaked in the feel of the cool air against my warm, clammy skin. The air inside the club had felt stagnant. My anger and hurt over City made my body feel flushed and caused me to sweat. I had done this. I pushed City away. I had been an idiot, and I knew it when I saw him with her in his arms.

Derek’s lips were on mine before I could react. I pushed at him, hitting his chest as he trapped me between him and the car. My arms felt like jelly, and I couldn’t gauge how hard I was hitting him as the beat of my heart filled my ears. “Stop,” I mumbled between breaks in the kiss, but he didn’t stop crushing his body against mine harder. His lips moved over my cheek to my neck as he grabbed my breast and squeezed. “Derek, stop, damn it!” I yelled, hitting him in the ribs.

“You know you want it, Suzy,” he said against my neck.

“I don’t! Stop!” I pushed against him again, but his weight was too much. I swung and connected with his face with a loud smack. My hand stung from the contact.

His face moved away from my neck, and he looked me in the eyes. He glared at me with his mouth set in a firm line. “You hit me. What the fuck? I’m just giving you what you want, baby.”

Clearly I had sent the wrong signals, or he was just a dumbass. “Get the fuck off me.”

“You’re such a prick tease in this outfit tonight. You can deny it all you want, but I know you want me.”

“I do—”

His lips were on me again before I could stop him. I struggled against him, bending my knee up to make contact with his balls, but hit nothing as his body flew backward.

City held Derek by the throat, bringing him to eye level. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, motherfucker?” City said with a look of pure hatred.

“This has nothing to do with you, man,” Derek spat. “This is between the lady and me.” Derek clawed at City’s hands, trying to escape his grip.

City turned toward me. “He your boyfriend?” His eyes moved over my body, taking in my outfit. I shook my head, my hands gripping the car, not moving. “You want him to touch you?” He looked at Derek and back to me.

Derek’s face had turned a deep shade of red, on the verge of purple, as City’s grip increased. “No! I told him to stop!” I said. “But I work with the scumbag. Don’t hurt him.”

City growled; his chest heaved with rough breaths while deciding his next action. “Fuck,” he muttered before dropping Derek to the ground.

Derek gasped for air as he tried to stand, but collapsed on his hands and knees. Air filled my lungs, and I realized I had held my breath, waiting for City to beat the hell out of Derek before my eyes. Did he deserve it? Hell yes, but I didn’t want to witness it or deal with the aftermath.

City stood in front of me, his hands clenched at his side as he stared at me. The hard features of his face looked more pronounced by his anger. His cheeks flexed, his nostrils flaring as he studied me. “What the fuck, Suzy? I called you and you don’t fucking answer and then you’re here with this fucking prick and almost let him maul you in a parking lot.” Running his fingers through his hair, he turned and looked at Derek before returning his attention back to me.

“I’m sorr-ry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know I had to answer to you. You seemed to have your hands full inside, anyway.” I snarled as I spoke.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Brunette, red dress, almost dry-humping you on the couch. Ring any bells?” Who the fuck was he to question my actions?

“Fuck.” His arms flexed as he clenched his hands into a hard fist at his sides. “Kaylee means nothing to me.”

“Neither do I, I suppose.”

“Woman, you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” He stepped closer, and my body instantly registered his nearness, moisture pooling between my legs.

I swallowed, the dryness in my mouth making it hard to move anything down my throat. “I saw your hands on her ass as she kissed you. How the hell do you explain that? It seems women have no value to you.”

“Shut your mouth, Suzy. I followed you out here because I saw you stumbling out of here with someone I didn’t know. I came here to check on you. Kaylee is no one, hear me now, no one. I didn’t come here with her or ask her to sit on my lap. I was trying to be nice to her.”

“Well, if nice means you feel her up, I’d say you were very kind to her.”

“Suzy, listen to me. I called you and asked you back out. You blew me off. What was I supposed to do? Sit home and wait for you to call?”

Breath escaped me as he closed the small space between us.

Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I took in the enormity of the situation. If City hadn’t stopped Derek, would I have been able to get away from him? He just saved me, and I was being a total bitch. The sob tore through my chest as I broke down. City wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. He felt so right against my body. I felt safe and comfortable with him, no matter how much we didn’t seem to fit on paper. He said nothing, but made sounds to calm me as I buried my face into the soft material of his t-shirt. My fingers found the piercing on his nipple as I toyed with it and tried to catch my breath.

“Can I take you home, sugar?” he asked with his face buried in my hair.

“Yes,” I whimpered, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Without speaking, he drew me into his arms, carrying me across the parking lot. I melted into him, resting my head against his shoulder. The thought of Kaylee still stung, but I couldn’t be mad at him anymore. He saved me from a totally fucked-up night, and for that he’d earned my forgiveness. The jostling movement as he placed my bottom on the cool seat of his bike made my stomach churn. I said nothing as he put the helmet on my head and fastened the harness against my chin. He had the right mix of pissed-off male and swoon-worthy alpha to make any girl’s heart go pitter-patter.

“Can you hold on?” he asked as he held my chin between his fingertips.

“Yes.” My tone was breathy and betrayed me with the sound of need.

He climbed on the bike, scooting his ass between my legs and gripping the handlebars. I molded my torso against his and interlaced my fingers. The usual jitters I felt anticipating the ride ahead didn’t register.

“Hold on, sugar.” He throttled the engine and took off for the short drive to my house. The cool air whipped my hair around as I nuzzled against his warm back. My mind grew blank with the movement of the bike and the roar of the engine. I allowed myself to get lost in the moment and the sensation of the vibrations from the bike—and the feel of City between my legs.

Lost in the City coma, I didn’t notice as we pulled into my development and weaved through the winding streets to my house. Maybe I’d drifted off, but I wanted to stay like this forever—wrapped around his body, in a stress-free haze of contentment. I mumbled against his shirt as he turned off the bike, placing his feet on the ground, securing it and tapping my hands. “Sugar, we’re here.”

“Mm hmm,” I said into his back before raising my head and looking through blurry eyes at my house. I sat up, letting go of his chest before wiping the drool off my lips. “Thanks, City. I don’t know what would’ve happen tonight if it weren’t for you.” I started to climb off the bike but didn’t have the energy, and plopped back against the seat with an “oomph.”

City laughed as he climbed off, pulling me off the bike, cradling me in his arms. “Can I come in?” he asked, brushing his nose against my cheek.

“Depends. You mad at me?” I asked, praying he said no.

“I’m not mad. We gotta talk, Suzy.” His eyes begged me to let him in as his brow furrowed.

“Okay.” I rested my head against his hard chest and rubbed my palm against his pec.

I handed him the keys as we approached the door. Anger was no longer visible, but the tilted grin I’d grown accustomed to had vanished. He kicked off his boots before he walked across my white carpet, placing me on the couch. The couch dipped from his weight, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I fiddled with my fingers as the silence became deafening. The alcohol-induced haze had started to wear off, and I felt a small buzz.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me today? I thought we made plans. What the fuck did I do wrong?” His words made me cringe; sadness was evident in his voice.

“I wanted to put distance between us. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I shook my head, meeting his eyes.

“Distance? What for?” His eyebrows drew together as the skin wrinkled in between.

“I just don’t think we’ll work out.” I shrugged.

“Woman, you think too damn much, and it’s fucked up. Blew my ass off for that douchebag tonight, and how’d that shit turn out for you?” He paused before continuing. “What makes you think we don’t have a shot?”

I looked away from him, unable to look him in the eyes. “We’re just so different, City. I don’t see a future between us, and at my age, I’m looking forward. I don’t live life by the seat of my pants like you. We have nothing in common and we run in different worlds.” Water clouded my vision as I stared at the wall across the room. I blinked, trying to clear the tears from my eyes.

Sighing, he reached for my face, touching my cheek and pulling my face to look in his directions. “Look at me, sugar.” His eyes moved around my face. “I don’t know how you think I live, and you sure as hell don’t know who I am. We’re getting to know each other, but you shut me out without a reason. You said it yourself, Sophia and Kayden are opposites but they work. Why couldn’t we?”

I drew in a shaky breath, his words making my heart ache. “I know I said that, but I don’t know, City.”

“What don’t you know? Talk to me.” His hand closed over my fist in my lap as he stroked his thumb across my sensitive skin.

“I like you a lot. So much that it scares me, and I don’t know if I could deal with the heartbreak when you walk out of my life.” A tear slid down my cheek as I spoke.

“You never gave us a chance to see if we could work.” His finger slid across my skin, wiping the tear away.

“You’re not a one-woman man. I could tell that about you, and I don’t work that way. I don’t want to share you.”

“Suzy, I’m not a whore. Since I met you last week I haven’t been with anyone else. I don’t want anyone else, just you.”

“I’d like to believe that, but you looked a little too cozy with Karen tonight.”

“Kaylee, not Karen. I’ll be totally honest with you about her. I had sex with her twice in my life. Not my proudest moment, but she offered and I accepted. She wants to be my girlfriend, and I’ve told her no. I’m very clear with her that she and I are nothing and never will be. Should I have pushed her ass on the floor when she sat on my lap?”

“No, I guess not.” I didn’t want to think about the visual I had of another woman sitting on him and fawning.

“I wanted to be with you tonight. You blew me off. We had such a nice time last night, and as soon as I brought you home, you shut down.”

“I don’t know, City,” I said.

“Joey.”

“Joey, I watched Kayden and Sophia all night. They reminded me of what I want someday. I want someone that’s going to love me and be mine alone. I want to be important to someone,” I said, staring into his eyes without blinking, worried another tear would slip down my cheek.

“It’s what everyone wants—”

“Let me finish.” I shook my head. “I like you, Joey. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, but I can’t risk falling for you. I can’t have my heart broken.” I bit my lip, trying to focus on pain instead of sadness. I didn’t want tears to flow freely. “I think it’s best if we stop now. The time we’ve spent together has been amazing, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t lie to myself.”

“May I speak now?” He smiled at me, but it was a sad smile.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’m incapable of love?” He stared at me, waiting for an answer, his mouth set in a firm line.

“No, I just don’t think it’s who you are now, and I can’t wait around for that part of you. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

“Suzette.” Formal names always meant something serious. “I never allowed myself to think of a future with anyone, but last night I saw a world of possibilities. I realized what I was missing out on—I want what Kayden and Sophia have.” He squeezed my fingers, and I watched his thumb rub the back of my hand. “Look at me. I’ve never allowed myself to get close to anyone in years, but your innocence and sweetness have pierced my heart.”

“Oh,” I said, my eyes growing wide with surprise.

“I didn’t want to rush into anything with you. I don’t want to ruin anything, but you need to understand where I’m coming from. You need to know my past.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed before continuing. “I have been in love before. I had a fiancée and I thought my entire life was made. Plans don’t always work out exactly as we think.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking a hand free from his grip, touching his cheek, running my thumb across the rough stubble.

“It was a long time ago. We were in college and her name was Joni. We were high school sweethearts.” He closed his eyes, and I could see the pain on his beautiful features. “I loved her more than anything in the world, and she was ripped from my life.”

My heart skipped with the thought that anyone could break his heart.

“A fucking drunk driver hit her on her way home from work and she was killed instantly.” He hung his head, hiding his face from my view. I could only imagine the pain that he’d felt losing his love that day in such a brutal manner. “I’ve never allowed myself to get that close to anyone after she died. It fuckin’ wrecked me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever fully heal.”

“I’m sorry, Joey.” I kissed his cheek, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts and hide a small part of himself.

His eyes rose to meet mine. “You remind me a lot of Joni…your kindness and playful nature. It’s infectious. You two would’ve been good friends. She was my light, and I couldn’t remember life without her until the day she died. I thought the heartbreak would kill me, Suzy. I’ve been so scared to open myself to anyone again, but you made me want to try. Don’t shut me out. I can’t promise forever, yet, but I want you to be mine, Suzy.”

My breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“Woman, I swear sometimes I have to spell shit out to you. For a smart girl, sometimes you amaze me.” He chuckled. “I want you to be my girlfriend. Mine and only mine. I’d planned to ask you tonight before you blew me off.”

Yes, yes, yes! “What about you?” I asked. Would he see other girls? My heart couldn’t take that.

“Just you, Suzy. I want a full commitment, and it’s a two-way street. Your body is mine…no one else’s. I haven’t wanted to be with only one person in a long time.”

“Okay,” I whispered, a smile creeping across my lips. My body vibrated with excitement as his words sank in. City wanted me to be his girlfriend. Wow.

“So, you’ll be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said as I crawled into his lap. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” I said against his lips.

“Mine,” he growled as he crushed his mouth to my lips. The kiss felt different than the others. There was a hunger behind it—a claiming.

City lifted my body as he stood. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him back with more passion than I had before. I wanted him more than I ever did. I wanted to make love to him and convey all the passion I felt for him—I wanted to heal him. He may have been broken, but I’d help his heart heal and show him all the love I had to offer.

14

STITCHES

CITY

SHARING the loss of Joni was easier than I’d thought. I rarely spoke about her, and only my family knew about my past. I felt Suzy needed to know to understand. I owed it to her. I’d let it go beyond a casual relationship by meeting her friends and seeing her more than once. Fuck, I’d seen her more than any woman that I’d allowed in my bed since Joni.

Placing her feet on the bedroom floor, she slid down my body before standing, leaning against me. Her soft eyes stared into mine as the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. Cradling my face in her hands, she rose on her tiptoes and touched her lips to mine. She tasted sweet, and my body craved more. We kissed with our eyes open, and I watched as her pupils dilated and her blinking slowed. Her hands began to move, and I heard the fabric of her shirt rustle as her knuckles brushed against my abdomen. I grabbed her hands, stilling them. “I undress you,” I said, and her hands went slack at her side.

She swallowed, smiling at me before lifting her arms. Pulling up her shirt, I exposed her soft belly before the white lace of her bra became visible, her hard nipples calling for my mouth. I dropped her shirt to the floor behind her and ran my hands down her still-raised arms, over her collarbone, over her breasts, stopping at her nipples. I palmed her breasts in my hands and felt the heaviness in them. Her breathing changed as I ran my thumbs over her hardened nipples and stared in her eyes. Her mouth opened, and she sucked in a quick breath as her head fell back.

I wanted to take her hard and fast, but after the talk we’d just had, I knew I had to show her the gentler side of sex. I couldn’t be rough with her, not this time at least. I had to show her that I cared for her and didn’t think of her as a fuck toy.

I forced my hands to leave her breasts and moved them over her soft stomach, hooking my fingers inside the cloth hugging her hips, as I pulled her skirt down her legs, to reveal matching white lace panties. I kissed the delicate material and placed my knees on the floor. She stood there and swayed, but didn’t move.

“Feet, sugar.” I tapped the tops of her feet as I waited for her to react. I could hear her giggle above me as she crawled out of her skirt, and the sound of it made my heart skip a beat. Innocence and bliss. I grabbed her hips and moved her body until the back of her knees hit the soft mattress. She sat down and looked at me with wide eyes.

“Lie back,” I growled as I held her knees, spreading them wide. “I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. I’m going to devour you until you’re begging for my dick, sugar.” I grinned at her. I could hold out an eternity feasting on her body—worshipping her center with my tongue.

She rested on her elbows and smirked at me as I sat between her knees. “All the way down, sugar.” I squeezed her knees in warning.

“Damn, you’re pretty between my legs. I just wanted to watch you,” she said with a playful grin on her face.

“Keep your eyes on me.” I reached for her lace panties and wrapped my fingertips inside the material.

“Wait,” she said as I began to move the material away from her body.

I pulled quickly, and the material disintegrated in my hands.

“Well, crap, those were expensive.” She blew out a breath.

“I’ll buy you new ones, sugar. No more talking; my mouth has other things to do that are more important.” My hands glided down her legs, pulling them apart as they reached her knees. I moved my mouth to the soft, sensitive skin of her thigh and licked, causing her body to shudder.

I could smell her arousal, and the sweet scent of her pussy made my dick ache. I kissed and licked to the V where her leg connected to her body, only inches from her pussy. Sucking her flesh in my mouth, I lapped at her juices as I twirled my tongue over the smooth skin and listened to her tiny moans. Continuing the slow, sensual assault on her body, I gripped her knees as I ran my tongue across her pussy, but didn’t stop to pay her engorged clit any attention. I stopped at the same exact spot on her right leg, pulling the skin into my mouth to leave a mark. I hadn’t given a hickey since high school, but I wanted to leave something to remind her of who owned her body.

“You’re killing me,” she said, all breathy. I smiled against her skin as I bit down on the flesh and she flinched. “Jesus,” she yelped, and the bed dipped as her back dropped against the mattress.

My tongue soothed the red skin where my teeth had left a mark, leaving no doubt where I’d been and to whom she belonged. I couldn’t wait any longer to taste her and feel her on my tongue as I moved toward her heat, inhaling her scent before my mouth descended on her body. I buried my nose in her blonde hair and smelled her sweetness. My flat tongue rested against her clit as I began to circle it with my tongue, but I denied her the contact she wanted. I sucked her lips into my mouth, like a starved man, tasting her wetness on my tongue. Her fingers laced in my hair and pushed my face into her core.

I dipped my tongue into her wetness and swallowed her arousal. I didn’t think I could ever get enough of her taste. I wanted to hear her scream and couldn’t wait any longer. I licked upward, capturing the last drops from her pussy as I sucked her clit hard.

She moaned, pulling my face harder against her body, writhing under my touch. I pushed two fingers inside her and her body stilled. Her pussy clenched against my fingers as I thrust them inside her. Her body arched and she gripped the sheets as she moaned. Moving my palm against her skin, I placed my fingertips on her nipple. Pinching it, my grip pulsated against her stiff peak, and it tipped her over the edge. She lifted her head, and her body grew rigid as her breathing became erratic and shaky.

I stared at her face, watching her fall into oblivion, overcome by the orgasm gripping her body. She dropped her head on the pillow as her eyes opened, sucking in a shuddering breath. Listening to her ragged breaths, I grabbed the condom from my back pocket before standing and removing my clothing.

The look on her face was one of a predator staring at their prey. I stroked my cock and stared at her body, waiting to be filled. Her mouth opened as she stared at my hand, and I stroked it with a firm grip, catching the piercing as I touched the tip.

“You want me inside you, sugar?” I asked in a slow, deep tone as I stood at the foot of the bed stroking myself.

“Well,” she said, caressing her skin and licking her lips. “I mean, your fingers are magic and your mouth is divine…”

I held up my free hand. “Shhh, sugar. No more talking. The only sound I want to hear is you screaming my name as you come on my dick.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes still glued to my shaft like she’d never seen it before. She was so easy to fluster. I tore the condom wrapper open with my teeth and rolled it over my aching member. I couldn’t wait any longer to be inside her luscious cunt and seek my release.

I moved up her body and nestled between her legs. “For the first time, I’m taking you as mine.” I laid my palm against her pussy, cupping it as I gripped it in its entirety. “No one else gets to touch you understand, Suzette?” I asked with my lips against hers.

“Yes, Joseph. It’s yours and only yours,” she said, staring in my eyes.

I kissed her and claimed her body as mine, fucking her with passion. I took her slow and gentle, showing her body the attention it deserved, and worshipped her in a way she’d never experienced before collapsing on the mattress.

I stretched out in bed and stared at the ceiling as she went to get ready for bed. She walked out of the bathroom in a t-shirt, but I wanted to feel her skin against mine as we slept. “No clothes.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as she touched the edge of the mattress.

“When you sleep in bed with me, I don’t want you wearing clothes. They’re a barrier I don’t want to deal with—I want all of you whenever I want you, even in the middle of the night.” I patted the mattress.

“Underwear?” She smiled and lifted the shirt.

“No underwear either. Strip and get your fine ass in this bed.” She didn’t move, looking at me with a silly smile. “Do it,” I said, eyeing her.

“But—”

“No, buts, sugar. I’ve seen every inch of your body, even that beautiful little asshole of yours. That’ll be mine someday too.”

Her smile faded, but her eyes twinkled as she stepped out of her panties and threw her nightshirt on the floor. She curled against my body and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Hand, sugar.”

She placed her hand on my chest, not forgetting where I’d put it the first night we spent together. My heartbeat thudded below her palm as I rested my hand on top of hers. I placed my lips against her forehead. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

“Night, Joey,” she said as she yawned. Her breathing changed quickly as she drifted to sleep.

I listened to her tiny breaths as she slept beside me, wrapped in my arms, and curled into my body. I held her hand against my chest and felt her fingertips rub my skin. I felt my eyes grow heavy as I rubbed her hand and tangled my fingers in her hair.

***

I felt someone staring at me as I opened my eyes in the darkness. “You awake?” she whispered.

“I am now,” I said, moving my fingers in her hair. “What’s wrong, sugar?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you, but I…”

“What’s bothering that pretty little head of yours?” I moved my fingers out of her hair and rubbed the soft skin of her arms, thrumming my fingers back and forth rhythmically.

“I’m just scared,” she whispered.

“Of me?” I moved my head away to see her face barely lit by moonlight cascading through the blinds.

“Not really.” She rubbed my chest. “I’ve had boyfriends, but only a couple. I’ve never felt about them the way I feel about you, Joey. It scares the piss out of me.”

“How did you feel about them?” I asked, more curious about how she felt about me than the previous men in my shoes.

“They were nice, but I didn’t get butterflies every time I saw them. We’d go days without talking, and I was fine with that, but with you I’m always checking my phone for a message. I’m feeling needy with you, Joey, and I don’t like it.”

“Sugar.” I reached for her chin, drawing her shadowed eyes toward my face. “That’s not needy. Needy and clingy is if you’re up my ass all day and want to know my every move. Needy is when you show up at my house all hours of the night and at the shop during the day.” I shook my head and smirked at her. “You’re not needy. Wipe that shit from your mind.”

“If you say so. It’s just a new feeling for me. If I overstep or act like a crazy person, please tell me.” The worry in her eyes began to ease.

“Deal.” I kissed her forehead, lingering over the soft flesh with my lips.

“What was your longest relationship?” I asked. I hadn’t been the pillar of normal relationship behavior since I lost Joni, but I had an inkling that she had been just as unlucky in love as I had been.

“Four months,” she whispered.

“Did you love him?”

“I think I loved him, but a week after I said those words to him, he left me. He’s the only man I’ve ever said that to—he broke my heart.”

I rubbed my hand up her arms to soothe her while she spoke.

“I’ve never really allowed myself to get that close to anyone after that. It was during my freshman year in college, and after that breakup, I just spent my time studying and avoiding anything that felt like it could lead to a relationship.” She yawned and burrowed her body a little closer to mine.

“I understand heartbreak and wanting to guard your heart from the pain. I’ve lived it for more years than I’d like to admit.” I pulled her closer, leaving no space between us. “Let’s just take this slow. It’s best for both of us.”

“Slow,” she said, as she reached up and rubbed my face. I pulled her hand back to my chest and held it against my heart.

I could hear her breathing change as sleep took her. I closed my eyes, content and happy for the first time since Joni had last slept in my arms. I looked forward to what tomorrow held.

15

TATTOOS AND TORMENT

SUZY

“HOW’D it go with Mr. Piercings?” Sophia chuckled in the phone as I chewed my bagel.

“He gave me a little going-away present this morning before he headed home to change.” I chomped down, letting the cream cheese slide across my tongue.

“Oooh, someone had a sleepover. I like him, Suz. He looks badass, but I can see a kind heart underneath. Reminds me a bit of Kayden, but I hope without the other bullshit.”

I swallowed down the dry leftover bagel. “I almost messed everything up with him, Sophia.” I grabbed the glass of milk off the counter, taking a sip, while I waited for her to scream at me.

“Are you fucking crazy? Why in the hell would you do that? What happened?” she yelled, her shrill voice causing my ear to throb.

“I just didn’t see us going anywhere, and I didn’t want to get too attached to him. I ignored him yesterday and ended up going on a date with Derek instead.”

“Derek? What the fuck, Suzy? You know that guy gives me the creeps.”

I sighed as I leaned against the counter, wanting to smash my head into the gray Formica for being so stupid. “I know. I just wanted to forget City—epic disaster that I’ll tell you about someday. Anyway, City came to my rescue and took me home.”

“Well, thank Christ for small miracles.”

“He asked me to be his girlfriend, Sophia. Can you believe that?”

“I do. You’re an amazing girl, little mama. Any man would be lucky to have you as his woman. City was smart enough to realize it. Kayden was the same way with me, but his hard exterior melted. Sometimes you just have to roll with it to get to the good stuff. Nothing in life is risk free, Suzy.”

“I know, Sophia. My entire body vibrates when I’m around him, and my stomach fills with butterflies. I’ve never felt that way with anyone, and it scares the crap out of me. I tried to push him away, but he didn’t let me.”

“You must have some fine shit.”

I choked on my milk, and it started to come out my nose as I wiped my face. “What in the heck are you talking about, woman?”

“Well, you tried to get rid of him, and I know you usually hold true to your plan, so I know you didn’t relent first and he came to you. Most guys would just say fuck that and walk away without looking back, but you must have something special that made him come back for more. Huh, who knew?” She giggled.

“Shut it, whore. We had a long talk about relationships and love when he brought me home. He’s been hurt before and hasn’t had a real girlfriend in years.”

“We’ve all been hurt before. It’s part of love. If you never hurt, then you’ve never truly been in love before, Suzy. What happened to him?”

“His fiancée died,” I said, putting my cup in the dishwasher. I leaned against the counter and rested the phone against my shoulder.

“Wow, that’s horrible. I couldn’t image losing Kayden. I’d be a complete and total mess. I don’t know if I’d love anyone the way I love him. I couldn’t allow myself to love anyone that way again if he was ripped from my life.”

“Yeah, I just wonder if he’ll be able to make room in his heart for me. I’ll always be competing with her for his love, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not a competition, sweetheart. There’s room for both of you. He’s taking a risk with you—just give him time to deal with his feelings. Don’t rush into the L-word.”

“You did with Kayden,” I said, smiling even though she couldn’t see me.

“I know.” She sighed. “I couldn’t imagine anyone else in my life. Kayden was it for me, babe. He ruined me and I could never be without him—I knew that after our first weekend together. It felt like all the planets aligned. I was finally with the man I was meant to be with my entire life.”

“I’m just going to enjoy his glorious body filled with extra holes and pretty pictures. Jesus, girl, you should see his fine ass naked.”

“Did you say ass?” she asked, sounding shocked.

“I am an adult, Sophia. I do swear.”

“I think City’s dick stirred your brain and altered your thought pattern. My Suzy sunshine never uses profanity,” she bellowed.

“Suck it.”

“What am I sucking?” she asked.

“Kayden’s dong.” I started laughing at how immature that sounded.

“Listen, whore, no matter what you do—do not fucking say ‘I want to suck your dong’ to City. His hard-on would vanish, as he would fall on the floor in a fit of laughter. It’s not sexy, not at all. Funny as fuck? Yes, but not come here and fuck me talk. Got it?”

“I know. Just wanted to see what you’d say.”

“Silly, girl. Oh, and don’t call it a penis. Use the dirtiest, crudest words you can think of when you speak to him. Men love it dirty and raw. If you can find it in the health teacher’s textbook, avoid it like the plague.”

“Got it. All right, I’m going to go get ready.”

“Where you going so early? Your ass usually isn’t out of bed before noon, and it’s only eleven.”

“I have grocery shopping to do today, and I feel like browsing at a couple of stores. I plan to look at all the things I’ll never be able to buy. A girl can dream, right?”

“Grocery shop today and window browse tomorrow. I’m so glad we have a long weekend, and I want to go shopping and have a girl’s day out. We need to practice your dirty talk.”

“Don’t you want to stay home with him and Jett?” I asked, walking in my bedroom, searching my closet for something to wear.

“Nah, let them have some male bonding time. What time you want to pick me up tomorrow?” she asked.

“Noon, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting for you, my pretty.” She cackled as she hung up the phone, and I shook my head. Sophia was going to make it a very long day.

***

“Come on, you big pussy, let’s go inside,” Sophia said, yanking my arm as we sat in the parking lot of Inked. Once Sophia had something in her mind, she was like an Italian woman I knew—totally unbendable.

“Sophia, please. It’s not nice to surprise him at work. What happen with the ‘no cling’ stuff?” I shook my head and put all my weight on the seat.

“It’s not clingy. I want a damn tattoo. I want to surprise Kayden, and I never get a chance. I either have the baby or him with me. I’d rather him do it than some stranger. Please get out of the car before I pull you out by your hair.”

Her hands were on her hips and she was giving me the pushy teacher look that always cracked me up. Sophia was just as much of a softy as I was, but her look was nastier and usually made people do as they were told.

“Fine, but when it all implodes I’m blaming your bossy butt.” I closed the doors and hit my remote twice, making sure that no one could steal my collection of vintage hip-hop cassettes.

Sophia whistled as we approached the door. “This is a nice shop, not like most of the shit-ass tattoo places around here.” She grabbed the door handle, and my palms began to sweat as my heart pounded in my chest, causing my breathing to grow ragged.

“Can I help you ladies?” a man asked. He looked like a younger version of City. His muscles bulged from under his shirt; his arms, covered in tattoos, flexed as he rose from his chair.

“I’d like to get a tattoo today. Any possibility of that?” Sophia asked.

Looking around the shop as Sophia spoke with the one of the Gallo boys, I took in all the vibrant colors on the walls—reds and oranges with yellow on the ceilings. No white space invaded this realm of his life.

I walked over to the beautiful artwork on the walls to get a closer look. The pieces on the wall were body parts that had been decorated with some of the most stunning work I’d ever seen. I turned my head and my stomach dropped. City was sitting next to a beautiful brunette with his hand on her breast and his face only inches away. They were laughing and talking, but he didn’t see me. They looked comfortable together, like there was something between them, or maybe there had been at some point. My heart thumped against my chest and I felt flushed looking at them.

I walked back by the desk quickly and grabbed Sophia’s arm. “Can we go, please?” I asked quietly.

She turned around and gave me a confused look. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s touching some girl’s boob and I just can’t look at it. It hurts to see it.”

She touched my shoulder. “Babe, it’s a boob. He’s an artist and some girls like tattoos on their breasts. It’s like a gynie looking at a snatch; it’s just another body part. Don’t get caught up in what you think you see.” She smiled.

“You’re crude. It was more how they were looking at each other.” I shrugged.

“Was he looking at her or what he was doing?” She eyed me.

“He was looking at her breast, for Christ’s sake.”

“He was looking at his lines. Calm the fuck down before you have a coronary. Lemme see.” She pushed me back and peered through the doorway to the tattoo area. “Look,” she said, yanking my arm and pulling my body to see what she saw. “He’s concentrating on his artwork.” She held my body so I couldn’t move, and forced me to view City touching someone else.

“Call me a prude, but I don’t want to see it.” I pulled away from her grip. “I’ll go wait in the car—you get your tattoo or whatever. I can’t be in here, Sophia.”

“God, you’re so dramatic. Get over your shit. He’s not fucking the bitch in the chair, he’s creating a masterpiece.” She looked pissed at me. “Suit yourself, go wait in the car and I’ll be out in a bit.”

I pushed the door open as I heard Sophia say, “Hey, City.”

Damn it. I wanted her to leave with me. I knew she was going to spill her guts, or should I say mine, and tell him everything that happened. I sat in my car and waited for over an hour. I tilted the seat back and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun. I cracked the window an inch so I could feel the cold rush of wind on my face every so often.

“What are you doing, sugar?”

I jumped, his voice waking me from a nightmare. His face was buried in someone else’s legs, kissing them with his mouth like he had done to me the night before.

“You scared the crap out of me. Jesus.” I placed my hand over my eyes to block out the sun as I looked out the window to see his beautiful body.

“Why aren’t you inside with Sophia? What the fuck are you doing out here alone? You didn’t want to see me?” He looked hurt, but I couldn’t get the visual of him with the woman’s boob out of my mind.

“I thought it was best if I waited out here.”

“Are you going to open your door so we can talk face to face? Or am I going to talk to you through glass like it’s a prison visit?”

“You looked like you had your hands full,” I said, and looked out the front windshield, avoiding his glare. “I’m sure you have more boobs to fondle.” What the hell was wrong with me? The pang of jealousy hit me hard, and it felt foreign. I had never been a jealous person. No one had evoked this kind of emotion before him.

“Open the damn door, Suzy.” He pulled on the handle, bending down to peer through the window. “So that’s what it is. You’re jealous?” He laughed.

I wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face. He looked so smug. “I’m not jealous.” When had I reverted to acting like a childish crazy person? Get a grip. I knew it was only part of his job, but it was foreign to me, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around the image and reality.

“Sugar, come on. I wasn’t looking at her breast. I was working, for shit’s sake. It’s a piece of canvas to me. Don’t be jealous—although I kinda like that emotion in you. Shows me that you care.”

“I need time to process it all. Did you start Sophia’s tattoo?” I asked, wondering how long I’d have to sit here.

“She needed a break. I won’t go back in and finish until you get that fine ass out of that car and we talk about this.”

The man knew how to hold me hostage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before unlocking the door.

City pulled on the handle, opening the door before crouching down next to me. “Sugar, look at me.” The grin on his face made me want to smack him. “Only you. She’s a married woman with children, and I’ve known her for years. I wasn’t staring at her nipples—I watch my lines. If I make a mistake, it can’t be fixed. Outta the car, Suzy.” He backed away and waited for me to climb out.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it before he placed his arms on either side of my body, pinning me against the car. Rubbing his crotch against my stomach, he said, “You’re the only one that does this to me.”

I wanted to stake my claim and ward off any woman that thought he could be theirs. His hand snaked around my neck, gripping me roughly as he crushed his lips against mine. My lips parted, granting him access as he pushed his stiff shaft against me.

He broke the kiss and searched my eyes. “Are we good?”

“I just didn’t like seeing it, City, especially so soon after seeing you with Kaylee. It’s going to take some getting used to for me.” I could get lost in his crystal blue eyes. “I’m sorry I was so childish,” I said as I leaned my forehead against his cheek.

“Childish and jealous,” he stated. “I’ll be patient with you, but I’m going to make you pay later for your little temper tantrum.” He laughed.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked with a cocked eyebrow and a grin.

“It’s on a need-to-know basis, sugar, and you don’t need to know…yet.” He licked my bottom lip and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the shop door.

“That’s not fair, City.”

“Sometimes life isn’t fair, sugar. I can guarantee that you’ll be screaming through it, and it won’t be out of pain, unless you’re into that sort of thing.” He waggled his eyebrows and chuckled.

Oh, hell. I knew trouble when I saw it, and it was standing right in front of me. City would be the death of me, but hell, at least I could say it was fun while it lasted. I did the thing I never, ever did—I took the plunge and jumped in feet first without holding my nose.

16

FANTASIES

CITY

I HAD plans for my little darling. She needed to pay for her temper tantrum, but I wanted to give her plenty of time to think about her actions and worry about what was ahead of her.

Suzy stared at the ground as we walked through the door of Inked. Mikey sat at the desk and was engrossed in his work until I cleared my throat. He looked up, a smile breaking out across his face.

“Suzy, this is my brother Mikey.”

“Michael,” he said, holding out his hand.

Suzy smiled at him and placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Michael.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“Hey, dickhead, break this shit up. Suzy’s mine.” I smacked his shoulder and gave him a glare.

“I’m just giving her a proper welcome, bro. Chill the fuck out,” Mikey said, looking at me with a smarmy grin. Asshole.

“Do you want to come in the back or stay out here with Mikey?” I emphasized “Mikey” just to get under his skin. He’d always been Mikey, but he didn’t like the nickname when women were nearby.

“I’ll keep you company,” he piped in, and I turned to give him the look of death.

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t really like blood. Is it bloody?” she asked.

“Not too bad, sugar. Tattoos are done with needles, so there’s some.” I pulled her close and buried my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet, flowery scent.

“I think I better wait out here,” she said into my chest.

“I’ll keep her company—no worries, Joey.” The fucker winked at me, and I wanted to punch him in the face. I knew he was just fucking with me, because one thing my brother sure as fuck wasn’t was a woman stealer. He wouldn’t try and fuck Suzy or take her from me, but it still grated on my fucking nerves.

I’d never felt so territorial over someone, and especially not as quickly as I had with Suzy. Maybe it was her similarities to Joni or her kind heart, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, and I sure as hell didn’t want to lose the opportunity to get to know everything about her.

“I’ll be done soon with Sophia. I just have to finish the color.” I kissed her, making sure to leave her breathless and her mind only filled with thoughts of me before I left her in the capable hands of my wanker little brother. “Don’t let Mikey fool you. He’s not as innocent as he looks.”

“I figured that. I’m not completely naïve.” I chuckled, because she was that naïve. Mikey had the look of a kindhearted person, with his charming, boyish good looks, but I’d seen him beat the piss out of men almost twice his size.

“Okay, sugar. Just don’t believe a goddamn thing that comes out of that mouth of his, got me?” I smiled at her, and all I wanted to do is take her home and fuck her brains out, but I had to finish Sophia’s tattoo and leave these two to talk.

“Gotcha, big guy. Go finish that tattoo so I can get her home to Kayden before he starts blowing up her phone. I’ll be okay.”

“I still have plans for you, sugar. I haven’t forgotten. Catch ya in a few.” I slapped her ass hard enough for it to sting. She yelped and jumped from the quick swat.

“Dang, City,” she said as she rubbed her ass, and I laughed as I walked to the back of the shop.

Sophia was typing on her phone, and looked up as I approached.

“Get the pussy out of the car?” she asked as I pulled on my gloves.

“Yeah, we had a little talk.” I laughed. I sat down and grabbed my machine and dipped the needle in the yellow ink.

“You have to understand her, City. She’s not like most girls. She’s in a class all her own,” Sophia said as she looked up from her phone.

“Whatcha mean, darlin’?” I asked, rubbing the salve over the design before placing the needle against her skin.

“She hasn’t really had a boyfriend or been in love. Shit, I’d never been truly in love with someone until I met Kayden. She’s not used to any of this. God, I’m so fucking this up, but you’re fucking killing me with that needle, City.” She giggled.

“Just a little bit longer. Tell me more about her, Sophia. You guys were with each other, like, twenty-four-seven there for a while. What don’t I know about her? What won’t she tell me about herself?” I looked down and shaded in the beautiful hibiscus on her hip with shades of pinks and yellows.

“Well, where should I start? I’m sure you’ve figured out she doesn’t swear, but trust me, that girl has one dirty-ass mind.” She laid her head back in the chair and her body grew less tense. Talking seemed to help people get their mind off the needle scraping against their skin.

“Really? This I gotta hear.”

“I don’t want to give away all her secrets, but she needs a guy like you.”

“What’s that mean?” I had an idea, but I wanted to hear her best friend say it.

“Suzy is a control freak. She needs someone that won’t give in to her, but—and this is a big but—she also needs someone that’s going to care about what she wants. She’s been with men that don’t really live up to the promises in the sack, or make her feel like a freak.”

Now she fucking intrigued me. “What would make her feel like a freak?”

“She has this fantasy about being kidnapped and sold into slavery.”

She whispered the last words, and I looked up at her. I almost fucking choked. “Suzy?”

“Don’t be so shocked, Joey. She just wants to be owned, if you know what I mean. She may be a control freak, but in the sack she wants to be used and controlled. Think you’re up to the challenge?” She moved her eyebrows up and down, with the biggest smile plastered on her face.

“I think I’m just what the doctor ordered. Tell me more—this shit is good.”

“She has fantasies, but will probably never share them with you.”

“Why not?”

“No one has ever asked her, so don’t expect her to just cough up that shit. You have to pull it out of her.”

“Got it.”

“Just don’t break her heart, City, or I’ll crush your balls. Got me?”

“Loud and clear, and I think you’d do it too, Sophia.” Sophia didn’t seem like the type to not follow through on her words. She reminded me of those strict teachers that you didn’t want to fuck around in class and get that pissed-off-teacher look from, but I knew she was sweet too, ’cause Suzy wouldn’t be friends with someone who wasn’t.

“Oh, I have no issues inflicting bodily harm when necessary.”

“Kayden must be one hell of a guy to handle you, Sophia.”

“He’s complicated.”

“Suzy mentioned something along those lines about Kayden.” I dipped the gun into the black to finish the shading as I hit the home stretch on the design on her leg.

“I normally wouldn’t take as much shit as I did from him, but when you love someone and you know you’re meant to be with them, you stick it through. I couldn’t abandon him in his time of need. Someday I’ll tell you the whole story, ’cause it’s a long fucking tale.”

“Almost done, just a few more lines. Was it worth it?” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it was worth the struggle that I feel she had to endure to find the love of her life.

“I wouldn’t trade a moment of our fucked-up journey. We were meant to be together. I don’t regret a second of my time with him.”

I liked hearing about Kayden and Sophia. All my friends and siblings were single and had been put through the ringer. I wanted to hear that it was possible to find love in today’s jaded world.

I put the machine on the table and began to wipe the tattoo to clean her skin so she could get a good look at it. “There ya go, darling. Hop up and look in the mirror.” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my back.

Sophia jumped up and walked up to the mirror, holding the side of her pants down. It was beautiful and permanent.

“Whatcha think?”

“Oh my God, City. It’s amazing. I fucking love it.” She turned to the side and stood closer to the mirror. “The color’s amazing.”

“Will Kayden like it?” I asked. I was sure he’d love it; what man wouldn’t love their woman to have their name on their skin? She was marked and his forever.

“He’s going to freak out. The guy has a thing for tats, and he has my name on him. I can’t wait to show him.” She just stood there and stared in the mirror with a giant smile across her face.

“He does?”

“Yep, huge down his leg. There’s no way to cover that shit up, either. He’s mine forever and I’m his,” she said as she walked back over to the chair.

“I never advise anyone to tattoo a boyfriend or girlfriend’s name on their body. It’s asking for disaster. You’re brave.”

“Brave? I’m never leaving that man, City. No one will ever love me like he does.”

“I’ve seen the chemistry you two have. I did my part in warning you, but I can’t deny you the design you want.” I rubbed the salve on her skin and covered it to keep it clean. “You know how this works and about after-care?”

“Yep, it’s my fifth tattoo. I got this shit.”

“Well then, darling, you’re all done.”

“I have to use the ladies’ room. Where is it?” she asked.

“Down the hall to the right. I’m going to go check on Suzy.” I wanted to see her and make sure Mikey kept his paws off her.

I pulled my gloves off with a snap and threw them on the table. I cracked my neck and rounded the corner to see Mikey and Suzy sitting in the chair talking and sitting a little closer than I’d normally feel comfortable with—but this was Mikey.

They began to laugh. “Oh stop, Michael, you’re killing me.” She covered her mouth and slapped her knee.

“I shit you not,” Mikey said, then looked up at me and cleared his throat. “Oh, big brother. How’d things go?”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” I knew Mikey wanted to find any way to embarrass me; my family was fantastic for that shit.

“Nothing at all.”

Suzy’s face turned red, and she could barely look me in the eyes without breaking out into a fit of laughter. “Don’t you worry, we’re just sharing family memories.”

Cocksucker. Someday I’d make him pay for this shit. I wouldn’t normally give a fuck, but I didn’t want Suzy to think of me in the way Mikey had probably described me. Thank the motherfucking gods that the rest of the group wasn’t here today. Izzy would be all over Suzy, grilling her and filling her head with stories that should stay in the past. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“No worries. Michael was just reminiscing,” she said between her fingers, trying to hide her laughter.

I wanted to choke the motherfucker. I knew he had a knack for making shit up just for his amusement and my embarrassment. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to stop myself from punching him in the face.

“Where’s Sophia?” Suzy asked, getting up from her seat.

“She’s using the ladies’ room. Go back and see the work I did on her.” I kissed her, patting her ass as she walked away. “What the fuck did you tell her?” I said to Mikey.

He started to laugh as he stood. “Oh, nothing.”

“Bullshit. What lies did you fill her head with, asswad?”

“I told her you slept with a teddy bear and sucked your thumb until you were ten.” He doubled over in laughter, and I saw red.

“You’re a dickhead, Mikey. Why do you always do this shit to me?” I closed my eyes and calmed my breathing.

“You never got all worked up before. You must really like this one.” He plopped his ass in the chair and pulled himself up to the desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, testy. Definitely a boner for that blonde bombshell. Hey, you told my last girlfriend that I pissed my bed until high school. All’s fair in love and war, rat bastard.”

I burst into laughter. That was the last time that woman came around the family. She broke up with Mikey shortly after our Sunday dinner. “You didn’t even like her. You were just fucking her.” I heard the door creak, and Suzy and Sophia emerged with smiles on their faces. “Guess you’re right, I deserved it, but for fuck’s sake—I really like this girl. Don’t fuck it up for me. Got me?” I said, leaning over the desk so only he could hear.

“Righto. Don’t get your panties in a wad, man.” Mikey stood quickly, and smiled as the ladies walked up to the desk. “Everything okay, ladies?”

Sophia’s smile couldn’t be any bigger. “Fabulous. You did such an amazing job, City. I fuckin’ love it, and Kayden’s going to be shocked as hell.”

“Kayden?” Mikey said, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Yes, Kayden, my boyfriend and father of my baby.”

“Fuck, all the good ones are taken,” Mikey muttered as he walked away.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Let me know what Kayden thinks about it.”

Sophia wrapped her arms around me and said, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, babe. I’m your man if you ever need any more work. Give that some time to heal. You’re going to be sore for a couple of weeks. The hip is tender. Watch what type of clothing you wear, too.”

Suzy stood off to the side and smiled at us both. I couldn’t wait to get her alone later, but I still had work to do. “Come here, sugar.” I held my hand out to her, and she placed her tiny fingers in my palm.

I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her body against mine. “I haven’t forgotten that I owe you for your little display earlier.” Her eyes went wide as she stared at me. “I never break a promise, either, sugar.” I kissed her and rubbed my dick against her stomach. I couldn’t wait to bury myself in her pretty little cunt. “I’ll be over around eight. Be ready.” I smiled and said goodbye as the two girls walked out of the shop in a fit of giggles.

17

WANTS AND DESIRES

SUZY

I COLLAPSED ON THE BED, exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath. City stretched out next to me, hands behind his head, a smug-ass grin stretching his lips. “What’s that look?” I asked.

“I fuckin’ rocked your world.”

“Cocky much?” He fucking did, too. I’d never come so hard or as much as I had with him. He knew all the right things to do and all the perfect places to touch. “If that was your punishment, it didn’t work.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I heard you yelp a few times when I smacked your ass.” He laughed.

I stared at the ceiling and thought about his words, remembering the stinging feeling of his hand landing on my ass. It set my skin on fire and made everything more intense.

“More out of shock than hurt. You surprised the heck out of me.”

City turned on his side, rested his head on his hand, and gazed at me. He ran his fingertips across my stomach, and my flesh broke out in goose bumps. “I hope it’s not the last surprise I ever give you.”

I closed my eyes and wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Whatcha thinking about, sugar?”

I opened my eyes and looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “You, Joe. You’re just so, so…I don’t know how to describe you.” I sighed.

“Unlike anyone you’ve ever been with?” He arched his eyebrow.

“Yeah, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing, either.” I didn’t want to say that he also made me half neurotic. The jealously I’d felt in the tattoo shop was something foreign to me, and I didn’t like it—not one bit. I barely knew him, and it gutted me to think of him with someone else. I was starting to question my sanity.

“Oh…it’s good. The way you screamed my name couldn’t be anything but good, sugar.”

My face flushed, and warmth crawled down my skin. I had never been a yeller or made much noise at all, but then again, I’d never had a reason to before.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He pulled me against his body and kissed my temple as he fisted my hair.

I couldn’t escape him—his smell, skin, and warmth. Everything about him made me want more, and I couldn’t block it from my mind or wish it away.

“Want me to go?” he whispered in my ear.

“No!” I opened my eyes quickly, turning toward him. My lips brushed against his. I didn’t close my eyes and neither did he—we stared in each other’s eyes for a moment as I melted into his body.

“Stop overthinking shit, Suzette. You want to be with me?”

“You scare the hell out of me, honestly.”

“Why?” He brushed the hair from my face, and my skin tingled from the innocent touch.

“Like you said—you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’re like one giant damn mystery to me.”

“I’m an open book. I don’t hide my feelings and I don’t pussyfoot around shit. I do what I have to and I say what’s on my mind.”

“I guess I’m just not used to someone being so…so…”

“Cocky, sexy, manly?” He chuckled and started to grab my side, causing me to break out into laughter.

“Stop!” I couldn’t catch my breath.

“You think too damn much instead of saying what’s on your mind.”

“Okay, okay,” I puffed out through my giggle, with tears running down my face. His hands stilled at my side and his tongue darted out and licked the tear from my cheek.

“Like that. No one has ever done that.”

“Sugar, maybe I need to ask what they have done to you. I feel that list is shorter than what they did do. Have you come during sex before?”

I didn’t want to answer that question. “Um.”

“Yes or no?” I felt like his azure eyes were staring into my soul and trying to unwrap all of my secrets.

“Not really.” I gave him a shy smile, not wanting to divulge that no one had ever gotten me off like he did. City was cocky enough without thinking he was my own personal sex god.

“Hmm. Did you come with me or were you faking that shit?”

Oh, here we go. “I did and I sure as hell wasn’t faking—I never fake it.”

“Besides me, ever? Without having to do it yourself?”

“No, no one has ever really cared if I did.”

“Fucking assholes.” He shook his head. “Why do women date assholes like that? I know no one’s ever smacked your ass. What do you want that no one has ever done to you?”

Oh my God. I couldn’t be any more embarrassed than I felt in this moment. “I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit, sugar. Everyone has fantasies.” He nuzzled my hair, and I didn’t feel so under the microscope, but I didn’t want him to laugh at me.

“Tell me one of yours.” I stroked his arms and traced the tattoos on his skin. The artwork really was beautiful. My parents always told me that tattoos were trashy, but on City they were works of art. They were a timeline of his life, and I wanted to peel back the layers and hear the story.

“I want to fuck you on my bike.”

My breath caught in my throat. The thought of him taking me on his bike hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now the image was burned into my brain.

“I want you spread eagle, my face planted between your legs, licking every ounce of wetness from your body before sinking my dick in you.” The vibration of his words in my ear caused wetness to pool between my legs. Damn him. “Your turn.” I knew he had a smile on his face without even seeing it. Bastard.

I sighed. “Where do I begin? God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Sugar, if you can’t share your fantasies with your boyfriend, who can you?”

One point, City—Suzy, Zero. “I swear I need to have my head examined.” I covered my eyes with my hands. City would think I was nuts.

“Out with it. Sophia told me you two read a lot of those smut books. Fantasies can become reality, sugar.”

“It’s just so weird. You’re going to think I’m completely insane.”

He stroked my arm as I tried to cover my face. His body shifted as he moved my hand away from my eyes.

“I gotta know now. I can call Sophia and ask, or you can tell me. Give me the naughtiest thing you’ve always wanted.”

I swallowed and shut my eyes. I didn’t want to see his reaction when he heard this one. “Fine. I have this fantasy of being taken against my will.”

He didn’t gasp or scream, but very calmly said, “Rape or kidnapping?”

I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. He had a grin on his face, and the butterflies dancing in my stomach calmed. “Kidnap. I know it’s weird,” I mumbled.

“No, Suzette. It’s not weird at all. We all have our kinks and fantasies. Okay, so kidnap and then what?” He looked so damn eager to hear the rest, like he was hanging on my every word. How could I not share the rest?

“Do you honestly want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve read so many amazing books that deal with kidnapping and being owned by someone. I don’t really want some crazy person to kidnap me, but the books make it seem appealing and sexy as heck.”

“I’ll see what I can do to make that happen.”

“Oh, God.”

“I won’t surprise you, you’ll know when it’s coming—when I’m coming for you.”

He pulled my body against his, our skin touching, his hands pressed into my back; he made me feel normal about wanting something so taboo. He smelled so good. His masculine and musky scent mixed with the smell of sex. I didn’t think I could ever get enough of him.

His hand glided up my back, on to the nape of my neck as he grabbed a fistful of hair. The feel of his calloused hands against my skin and the prick of pain on my scalp felt like electricity throughout my body. Holding my head still with his firm grip on my hair, he looked into my eyes. The brilliant blue of his almost glowed in the light and burned with passion. “As for being owned, I plan to own every inch of your body. You are mine, sugar, don’t forget that shit. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Why the hell did that sound so amazing? Damn trashy books altered my sense of right and wrong. I wanted him to own me—ruin me.

I was lost in thought until his lips crashed against mine. His kiss wasn’t gentle or kind, but demanding and all-consuming. My body molded around him as I wrapped my leg around his waist.

“I’m going to be rough, Suzette,” he said against my lips.

I searched his eyes and could see the lust and need within. “I’m yours,” I whispered.

He grabbed my torso and flipped me on my stomach. He moved faster than I thought possible, and he was behind me in a moment. He grabbed my hips and pulled my ass in the air. “Stomach down, sugar.” He pushed on the small of my back. “Head too, only your ass in the air.” I buried my face in the sheets and could smell him on the fabric.

I started to hyperventilate. I’d had sex doggie style, but this was something different—new. His fingers raked through my wetness, stroking my clit and squeezing it lightly. A jolt coursed through my body, and I cried out.

Smack. “Don’t move,” he said, rubbing my ass with one hand and pinching my clit with the other. “Unless you want another swat on the ass.”

I wanted to squirm or rub against him like a cat in heat, but the sting of his last swat kept me rooted in place. His hand left my ass, and I turned to look at him. His tall, muscular body stood on the bed, and he stroked his cock. The metal piercing at the tip would disappear in his hand. His beautiful black hair was a mess and lay across his forehead, and the light reflected off his eyes. I could stare at him for hours—he was everything my mother told me to steer clear of in life. Just looking at the man made my panties wet. I’m so screwed.

I was so exposed in this position. My ass and pussy were on display for him. He pumped his hardness in his fist as he positioned himself behind me. I could feel the head rub through my wetness. His cock was hard as it poked at my entrance. I closed my eyes and held my breath as I waited for him to fill me. I instantly felt the loss of his body, and opened one eye to see what he was doing.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, staring at him just standing there, stroking the shaft as he looked at me.

“Relax, sugar. I’ll make it fanfuckingtastic.” He rubbed my ass, and I knew his words were true.

I relaxed my muscles and closed my eyes as I felt his hand on me again. The head of his dick touched my opening, and I wanted him inside me. I gripped the sheets and braced myself for the impaling I was about to endure. He rested his hand on the top of my ass as he pushed himself inside. I felt stuffed, and I knew he wasn’t fully seated inside. I squeezed the sheets tighter as the sensation of him became overwhelming, and more intense than I’d felt before.

His body slammed into mine as he pumped in and out. His body worked like a well-oiled machine, and his shaft was the piston battering my insides. The tip hit parts of my body that had never been touched before, and I wanted to crawl away—the fight-or-flight instinct started to kick in. My ass stung as the sound of his hand striking my ass filled my ears.

“Ass up, Suzette,” he growled, grabbing my hips and molding my body exactly how he wanted it without going out of rhythm.

I bit my lip. I wanted to cry out. I wanted to crawl away. I didn’t know if I could take one more minute as I reached back and grabbed his ankles. I dug my nails into his skin and grounded myself. I had to fight every urge in my body to flee.

I could feel every inch of him as it moved inside my body. His breathing was harsh and quick, and I buried my face in the sheets to stop from crying out. My muscles tightened as I felt an orgasm building inside me, but how? He hadn’t even touched my clit in this position, and I hadn’t touched myself.

His speed increased and his hips slammed against the sore spot left by his hand. He grabbed my hips and pulled me closer, allowing himself to be buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, your cunt is so tight.” His fingers dug in my hip as I was held captive by his hands. “I can feel it squeezing my cock. Fuck, sugar,” he said as he pulled my body against him to meet his thrust.

I squeezed my eyes shut as a moan escaped my mouth that I could no longer hold. I needed to yell as the orgasm crashed over me, my body becoming rigid. My core gripped his shaft as the aftershocks tore through me, and his rhythm became more intense, and eventually more erratic. He moaned and my body became limp, but I kept my ass in the air because of his rock-hard grip.

His body twitched against me before he pulled out and collapsed on the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered.

My body ached. Rolling over, I stretched out across the mattress and rested my arm across his body. Our labored breathing filled the air. My hand rose and fell with his chest as I gulped for air and tried to swallow the cotton taste from my mouth.

Neither of us spoke as we lay there. City had been more than I could ever imagine. I liked being with him. He was easy to be around. He made me feel beautiful and wanted. I needed to turn my brain off and stop thinking of the reasons I should run away from him and enjoy our time together.

I felt like I was in a dream world, half awake as City rolled over and placed his arms around me. He kissed my face and whispered, “Night, beautiful,” in my ear.

18

FAMILY HEADACHES

CITY

WE SPENT a few nights together during the week—work took up our days and kept us apart, but the evenings were filled with fucking her raw and leaving no doubt in her mind of my feelings toward her. Saturday she had a wedding to attend that she’d already RSVPed to and couldn’t change.

As I locked up the shop, my phone chimed.

Bear: Get your pussy ass over to the Cowboy. Where the fuck you been, man?

Suzy would be gone until around midnight, and a drink with the guys was in order.

Me: Headed that way, asshole. Save me a seat and you better have a fucking cold beer waiting for me.

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I climbed on the bike and headed toward the Neon Cowboy. Steam rose from the dampened streets as the tires parted the mist. The moonlight flashed through the trees lighting my path. The cool breeze felt good against my flesh as I barreled down the road to hang with my guys.

Walking in the bar, I took in the familiar smell of smoke, the sound of the country guitar, and the murmur of the crowd, and I realized how much I’d missed this place.

“Yo,” Bear yelled, grabbing my attention. “I almost sent a search party looking for your ass,” he said as I approached the table. Tank and the others laughed.

“I’ve been busy, fucker.” A frosty glass sat waiting for me, as I’d hoped it would be.

“Busy nestled between that sweet blonde ass, I assume,” Tank said as he twirled the beer bottle between his fingers.

“You’re just jealous because you gotta pay for your pussy, shithead.”

He shrugged, bringing the bottle to his lips. “Less complicated that way. I just wanna bust a nut without the cuddling and whining.”

“You’re an asshole.” Frisco laughed, slapping Tank on the shoulder, causing the bottle to move from his lips.

“Fucker, you made me spill my beer.”

Frisco covered his mouth with his hand as his eyes turned into small slits. We called him Frisco because he hailed from sunny California and grew up in the San Francisco area. His features were unique—his Chinese mother and American father were both evident in his features. His eyes were almond-shaped and dark, his hair pin straight, cropped at the top, and coal black. He was taller than me, and thin with a slight, muscular build.

“So, City, tell us about the li’l woman? How are things going?” Bear asked.

I leaned back in my chair and rested the beer against my knee. “Fucking perfect.”

“You’re serious about this one?” He raised an eyebrow and studied me.

Everyone at the table stopped, turning their attention to me. “Serious as a motherfuckin’ heart attack.” I sipped my beer, looking at their faces. Frisco smiled, Bear’s mouth hung open, and Tank scowled. “What?” I said, moving the bottle from my lips.

“Didn’t think I’d see the fucking day, dude,” Bear said with a sappy grin.

“She’s too pretty to be with your loser ass,” Tank piped in before I could speak.

“Fuck off, Tank.”

“I’m happy for you, man. This calls for another round.” Tank raised his fingers to his lips and whistled. He was so crass, but the girl always ran when she heard him call. “Another round, sweet cheeks,” he said as he patted her on the bottom.

“Hey, City. Nice to finally have a gentleman back in here.” She winked at me before turning her attention back to Tank. “Anything for you, handsome?” she said, running her fingers down the side of Tank’s face. He blushed as he placed his order.

“You know your ass would give up this shithole for a piece of that every night,” I said to Tank as he watched her ass swaying in her Daisy Dukes as she walked toward the bar.

“Won’t deny that shit.” He laughed before slapping the table roughly, causing all the bottles to jump.

We talked for hours about motorcycles, tattoos, women, and, of course, the bar. The guys filled me in on the events of the last week. It was always the same old bullshit—bar fights, hook-ups, and booze. The town was so small that everyone knew each other’s business, and word spread like wildfire.

“Fuck,” Bear hissed. “Speaking of bitches, Kaylee was in here looking for your ass.”

“What the fuck? When?” I gripped the bottle in my hand, trying to control my anger.

“Last night. Mumbling some bullshit about how she was yours. Spreading that shit around here like it was the gospel. I told her to fuck off,” Bear said, leaning back like he was about to beat on his chest.

“She’s a fucking train wreck. Stuck my dick in her twice and she won’t let me fucking forget it. I’ll set her ass straight, unless one of you boys wants to take her off my hands?” I looked around the table and waited for someone to accept.

“Fuck no, that bitch makes my skin crawl. Hate clingy women,” Frisco said, shaking his head.

“My dick, my problem,” I said, feeling the phone vibrate in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen under the table.

Suzy: Drunk and tired. Sophia’s taking me home, but you’re welcome to join me.

“Ball and chain wrangling your ass in?” Tank asked.

“Such a ball buster. It’s late and I worked all day. I’m heading home. Thanks for the drink, Bear.” I shook his hand and turned to Frisco. “Good to see you again, buddy. Tank, it’s been real.”

“Whipped,” Tank mumbled as I stood to leave.

I left the guys to end the evening how they always did. Bitching about life and women. Thankful that my night wouldn’t end like it had for countless years, I sent Suzy a text.

Me: Leave the door unlocked. I’ll meet you in bed.

When I arrived, Suzy was half dressed and passed out across the bed. Her mouth hung open, hair was half covering her face, and her dress was halfway off, exposing her breasts. It took everything in me not to snap a picture of her and remind her of it later, but I didn’t want to be a dick.

“Wake up, sugar.” I grabbed her leg, pulling her body down the bed. She mumbled but didn’t wake. I pulled the hem of her dress, removing the clingy material. I rarely had the ability to just stare at her body without her trying to cover her skin. I stood and looked at her—white skin, perky breasts, and long, muscular legs. She was a vision.

Gathering her in my arms, I placed her head on the pillow before I removed my clothes and climbed in next to her.

“City,” she muttered as she shimmied her ass into my dick.

“Fuck.” I sighed. My cock throbbed from the warmth of her soft cheeks rubbing against it. “Go back to sleep, sugar.” I pulled her tighter, burying my face in her hair before drifting off to sleep to her soft snores.

***

“How’s the shop doing?” my father asked as we sat around the dining room table. Today was gnocchi, and it always sat in my gut like a ton of fucking bricks.

“We’re doing good, Pop. We’re turning a profit and we’re constantly booked when I can get everyone to show up for work,” Mike said before shoveling in a heaping forkful of gnocchi.

“Mike, you aren’t always there either, so don’t be a martyr and skip the bullshit.” Anthony pointed his fork at Mikey before stabbing the gnocchi on his plate.

“We all have other shit to do. The shop is for fun and to have something of our own, so get off our damn backs, Mike. You aren’t the boss,’” Izzy said emphasizing the word to sound like a great big “fuck you.” “You just aren’t an artist like the rest of us.” She picked up the wine glass and brought it to her lips to hide her smile. Izzy always had been a spitfire.

My mother and father sat at the opposite ends of the table and exchanged looks as my siblings had a war of words. As children, we battled with our fists and usually one of us ended up bloodied, but now we used our mouths. Sometimes words leave a greater mark than any punch ever could.

“I’m every bit an artist as you are, baby sister. I just prefer to use my hands for other things. I may not draw pretty pictures, but I can pierce anything and knock a bastard on their ass in a single punch.”

My father cleared his throat. “Is the shop too much?” he asked.

I needed to speak up. The shop was doing great and we all got along. Sundays often made us crabby because we wanted to do anything but be trapped in this house. A one-weekend reprieve would be fucking mind-blowing—and a totally bullshit improbability. “Pop, the shop’s great. We’re packed. Everyone shows up on the days they have appointments. I’m there more than anyone and I know the business the best. Mike may organize shit, but I know what happens inside the walls of Inked.” I soaked my garlic bread in my mother’s homemade sauce, which had spread out around my plate. “We need to keep ourselves busy during the day, and the shop has more than done that.”

“Good, son. I’m proud of all of you. You could be sitting on your asses at home, but you’re business owners and successful—not to mention your other hobbies.” Oh fuck. Everyone hated to have their true passions and dream careers referred to as a “hobby.”

I heard forks drop to the table and clatter off the dishes. Such drama queens in this goddamn room.

“Sorry about that. It’s not what I meant.” My father looked down at his plate, concentrating on his food, but I could see the smile on his face. He loved a good punch to the gut and ego whenever possible.

“I have a big fight coming up after the first of the year,” Mikey piped in, to show my dad how far he’d risen.

“Around here?”

“New York. I got the call yesterday. I’ve been training for months for this opportunity.”

“That’s fantastic, son. Wish your mother and I could see it.”

My mother looked green at the thought of her son being in a closed ring beating the piss out of someone—or getting the shit beat out of him. I’d put my money on Mikey in any fight, but I know my mother still thought of him as her baby. Fuck, we were all her babies.

“Michael, why can’t you be like your brother? Go into music or something without violence and bloodshed?” She dabbed her lips with her napkin and then placed it on the table.

“Ma, I’m great at it and I love it. It’s my dream to be a well-known ass kicker.”

Pop reached over and slapped him on the back. I was surprised he didn’t start beating on his chest at how proud he was of his ass-kicking son.

“I just don’t like the whole idea. Become a musician or something else.”

“Tone deaf,” Mikey mumbled as he placed more food in his mouth.

My mother sighed and fidgeted with her fork on the table. “I was fine with it when I thought it was just a hobby or a passing phase, but now, I’m scared for you, Michael.”

“No worries, Ma. I got this shit. You’ll see.” He grinned at her and flexed his muscles. “It’s going to be on pay-per-view, so you’ll be able to watch, Pop. I’m not the headliner, but they show all the opening fights before the main event.”

“I’ll have to have the guys over to watch my son kick some ass.”

I rolled my eyes and hoped someone would change the conversation.

“Anyone talk to Thomas this week?” Mom asked.

Not the topic I would’ve liked, but anything to not hear about Mr. Badass and his upcoming match.

“I did, Ma, he texted me. It’s hard for him to call with work,” Anthony said.

She sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I worry most about him. He’s in such danger every day, and I don’t like him being so far away. I need all my children around this table every week.”

I could see the pain on her face. She worried about my brother. He’d been an undercover cop for the last year. He was trying to infiltrate a motorcycle group notorious in Florida for drug trafficking and gun smuggling. He rarely called or texted in order to keep his cover, otherwise his life would end.

Why the fuck my brother risked his life was beyond me. It’s one thing to work the streets every day walking a beat, but to go undercover and be discovered was something cops rarely fucking came back from. If something happened to him, my mother would never recover. Tommy had always been an adrenaline junkie, but this was extreme. Jump off a fucking bridge or skydive like normal people; don’t risk being shot in the fucking head when they realize you’re there to help bring them down.

“He said he’s fine, Ma. He said not to worry and he’s well and living the life. You know, Tommy would have made a great actor. He can bullshit the best of them.” Izzy always tried to console my mother about Tommy’s work, but it was always there—the worry. We all felt it like a ton of bricks, waiting for the phone call that he was missing, but thankfully it hadn’t happened.

“I know, baby girl.” My mom smiled at Izzy. “He could always charm the ladies.”

“Speaking of charmer, Ma, Joey’s girl was at the shop yesterday and I missed it.” Izzy pouted and winked at me. She knew she’d just thrown me under the goddamn bus, and my mom would have a shitload of questions…again.

“Still seeing her, Joseph?” Her face lit up. I knew she was already picking out the baby names, but fucking hell, I wasn’t ready for that shit.

“Yes, Ma.” I hated talking about this shit with anyone, especially my mother.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

I sighed, wanting to reach over and choke that shit-eatin’ grin off Izzy’s face. “Yes.”

“Don’t chase her away because she isn’t Joni. You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“I met her, Ma.” Fucking Mikey.

“What’s she like, Michael?” My mom knew she wasn’t going to get much more out of me than she had last week in the kitchen. She knew to ask the blabbermouth of the group.

“She’s beautiful and deserves so much better than that punk.” His head moved in my direction, and I wanted to bitch-slap him.

“Better as in you, Mikey?” I eyed him.

“Calm down, bro. She’s a nice girl, Ma. Reminds me a bit of Joni. Innocent, and her laughter is infectious. You’ll like her.” He grinned at me.

What a fucking asshole.

“You’ll have to bring her for Sunday dinner soon, Joseph.” Exactly what I didn’t want to do. I didn’t want her to be around my crazy-ass siblings, especially Izzy. Iz was dying for another girl, since the testosterone to estrogen level was off balance.

“Maybe soon. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“The holidays are coming up. Christmas, maybe. Is she a Catholic girl?”

Already planning the wedding ceremony. Religion weighed heavily in an Italian family—christenings, baptisms, weddings…everything seemed to revolve around the church.

“Ma, you haven’t been to church in years,” I said flatly.

“I know, but it’s still important. It makes life easier. Is she Italian?”

“I never asked.” I grabbed my plate and headed for the kitchen. I could hear the giggles from the table as my mother and sister always liked to rag on me most of all. No one was in a relationship in the group, but for some reason I was always the target.

I didn’t know where Suzy and I stood and what the future held for us. She was always so wrapped up in her fucking thoughts and second-guessing our relationship. She couldn’t get beyond the tattooed façade and the beat-up shack I called home. I needed to know that I was enough for her. I wanted to be liked for me—the good, bad, and the ugly.

19

FRIDAY COUNTDOWN

SUZY

I COULD HARDLY CONTAIN my excitement all week. City and I talked every night on the phone and texted during the day. I couldn’t stay away from him and couldn’t get him out of my mind. I tried to keep myself busy and find reasons not to be with him, but it didn’t work. I was falling for the man, and falling hard.

Growing up, my mother had drilled in my head that I needed to find a man with a stable job. I needed to settle down, have a family, and live the American dream. I tried for years to find that man, the perfect mold, but all of them were just…boring as hell.

I’d never been willing to settle for anything less than perfect. A picket fence and a beautiful home are worthless if you dread going home to the one you’re supposed to spend your life with. I prefer being single to the doldrums in which some of my friends currently dwelled. Sophia and Kayden were the happiest couple I knew, and they were complete opposites—they were the yin to the other’s yang.

The students cleared the building as soon as the last bell blared at two in the afternoon on Friday. I had another thirty minutes left and couldn’t seem to function. All I could think of was tonight and what could be—what would be. I couldn’t stare at the clock and watch another minute tick away. I knew Sophia would be tidying up the library, and I needed to talk to her. She’d questioned me all week about City and when I’d see him again, but I hadn’t told her the plan we had. I needed her opinion.

The lights in the library were dimmed, but I could see her wandering around, returning books to their rightful spots. I took a deep breath and walked through the door to the torrent of questions I knew I’d face.

“Sophia,” I called out. I didn’t want to scare the hell out of her. I knew most of the staff had snuck out early, but the two of us never took the chance at losing our jobs for a few minutes of our time.

She turned the corner with a stack of books in her hand and a smile on her face. “Hey, Suzy Q, what are you doing up here? Don’t you have any big plans for tonight?” She winked at me. I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. I felt like the electricity and joy radiated off my body. “How many hours until you see him?”

“Maybe I’m not going to see him tonight.” I was so full of shit, and I knew I couldn’t fool Sophia, but sometimes I hated that she could read me like an open book.

“Whatever, whore. It’s written all over your face. You’re going to get some cock tonight, and by the red creeping across your cheeks, I’d say it’s fucking amazing.”

“Do you hear how you talk in a school?”

“Prude ass. Every child has run away from this place screaming at two. There isn’t a soul within earshot except for us. What time are you meeting him tonight?”

“We’re meeting at seven.” I plopped down on one of the comfy couches as Sophia placed the books on the table and sat down next to me.

“My feet are freaking killing me in these damn heels.” She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her feet. “What’s the plan tonight?”

“I don’t even know if I can repeat it.” I shrugged. My stomach was a jumbled mess from just thinking about the possibilities.

“You can and you will. This is me, girl. I know all your darkest secrets. Shit, you used to lie in bed with Kayden and me and grill us on our sex life. We have no secrets. I know you’re a kinky bitch underneath that polished veneer.”

“It’s your fault. I was happy with my bland sex life and you had to go and ruin me with all those trashy novels.”

“Stop changing the subject. What’s the plan with the sexy-as-sin City?” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows up and down.

I’d always wanted sex that was worthy of girl talk, and for years, I’d lived off the stories that Sophia and my other friends had shared with me. City had made sex worth talking about; I’d finally have some wild stories to share.

“I kind of shared one of my fantasies with him and he’s going to make it happen tonight.” I covered my eyes with my hand, avoiding her stare. I was scared to tell her any more, but she knew every fantasy I had and always reassured me that I was normal, that my sanity hadn’t been replaced by impure thoughts.

“Oh my God. Tell me, tell me.” She practically bounced on the couch cushion. “Don’t hold back now, bitch.” She slapped my arm.

“I told him the darkest one.”

“You didn’t?”

I grinned, and my cheeks almost hurt from the smile that had been plastered on my face all day. “I did, and he said I’d have it.”

“Kidnapping?” She looked shocked, but I saw the twinkle in her eye.

“I can’t believe I told him, but yes. Oh my God, it’s happening tonight, Sophia.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She wrapped her arms around me. “My baby’s all grown up.” She squeezed me and ran her palm down the back of my head. “Tell me more. I want to hear about him. Now.”

“We’re going to meet at the Neon Cowboy, that biker bar out in the country. We’re going to have some dinner and drinks before I leave alone and he makes it become a reality.”

“You’re going to chicken out. Oh God, he’s giving you time to change your mind.” She stood up and started pacing the room.

“Calm down, Sophia. I’m not going to chicken out. I’ve wanted someone like him, and tonight I’m getting more than I could ever dream of—my fantasy becoming a reality.”

“You’ve never done this shit. You’re like I used to be—Ms. Missionary Style. I expect details tomorrow, and I mean a full report.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll give you a full briefing.”

“I want every last fucking detail too, got me?”

“I got ya, Sophia. I better go get my stuff and head home. I want to rest a bit before I see him.”

“Good luck with resting.” She snickered.

“I know. I could barely sleep last night.” I sighed.

“I used to get that way when I would see Kayden after time apart. There’s no feeling like it.” She smiled and hugged me. “Now go. I have to finish up and get home to my fantasy man.”

“You still feel that way about Kayden after all this time?”

“I still get butterflies when I see him, Suzy. That’s the difference, you know—that feeling has never gone away. I’m still get excited like the first time we met.”

“I envy you, Sophia.”

“You’ll find your Kayden, babe. I think you may already have, if you don’t let your stupid OCD checklist get in the way.” She tapped me on the forehead.

“I got to go. We’ll debate my sanity and compulsions another day.” I waved to her as I walked out the door. “Later, Soph.”

“Don’t forget to call me, Suzy, or I’ll hunt your ass down,” she yelled to me as the door closed behind me.

***

“Hey, sugar.” His voice filled my car via speakerphone, but he didn’t sound as excited as I felt.

“Hey, City. I’m almost to the bar.”

“I’m going to be fifteen minutes late. Fuck, I’m sorry. The tattoo I was working on took longer than I thought. Can you wait for me in the parking lot?”

Damn. That bar gave me the heebie-jeebies, and I didn’t fit in, not even in the parking lot. “Yeah, City. I wouldn’t dream of walking in there alone.” I felt sick. “This isn’t part of your plan, is it?”

“Hell no! We’re still having some drinks first. I need you to not overthink everything tonight. I want you a little tipsy for what I have planned.” He laughed.

The excitement took over, and all second thoughts vanished. “Okay, City. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Do not go inside alone. Understand me?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“See you soon, sugar.”

After tossing my phone on the passenger seat, I rolled down the window, welcoming the cool air against my clammy skin. The events of the night played through my mind. City would be my kidnapper. My lungs burned as I screamed along with the song on the radio, ”Dark Horse” by Katy Perry, the bass causing my windows to rattle with each beat.

Pulling into a spot hidden in the shadows, I turned off the lights and waited for City to arrive. In the rearview mirror I saw my face glistening from the humidity in the air, and I wanted to look flawless. City had seen me at my worst, but I wanted to look beautiful for him in front of his friends.

The lighted mirror behind my visor was more forgiving as I blotted my face with an old napkin I found in the glove box. My lips lacked color as I smacked them together, making kissy lips. After slathering on some Buxom lip gloss from my purse, I rubbed my lips together with a pop. They tingled as the peppermint oil started to plump my lips, soaking into my skin.

A loud knock on the window made me jump, and I hit my head on the visor. “Shit,” I said. I turned to get a glimpse at my knight in shining armor, but it wasn’t City outside my car. It was a guy that looked vaguely familiar. He stood there staring at me, and alarm bells went off in my head.

I cracked my window an inch, thankful I had rolled them up when I arrived. “Can I help you?”

“Why’s such a pretty lady sitting out here alone? Come inside, beautiful.”

Hell, he creeped me out. “I’m waiting for someone.” I didn’t want to hold a conversation with him. His hair was a mess, gray hair lined his face, and dirt was smeared across his tattered t-shirt. A sour smell caused me to wrinkle my nose—he was the asshole that wouldn’t leave me alone the first time I came here, until City and Bear stepped in. Shit, where was City?

“You can wait inside, let me buy you a drink.” His face came closer to the window, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the body odor that I couldn’t escape. My heart raced and my palms started to sweat. Just stay in the car.

“Thanks, but I’m going to wait here.” I couldn’t stand looking at him anymore. Why won’t he just go away? I heard a motorcycle pull in the parking lot and come to a screeching halt next to my car. Peering through the passenger window, I saw City climbing off his bike quickly and coming at the scumbag outside my window.

“Get the fuck away from her,” City roared as he stood toe to toe with the asshole.

“I just asked her to come inside for a drink.” He looked City in the eye and didn’t move. He must have had a death wish.

“She doesn’t want to be bothered. Go the fuck home, you drunk bastard. Stop bothering all the ladies here, or at least mine. Do I need to beat that message in your stupid-ass head?” City grabbed his shirt, crumpling it in his first.

The man threw his hands up in surrender and tried to back away, but City had a firm grip on his shirt.

“Come on, man. I didn’t know she’s yours. You need to keep better track of her. Pretty things disappear all the time around here.” He grinned, and my skin began to crawl.

“Beat it, jackass. Next time I won’t speak. I’ll just bash your fucking head in so the only thing you can do with that mouth is drink through a goddamn straw.” City released him and shoved him backward. The man stumbled before falling on his ass.

City opened my car door and held out his hand, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy on the ground. The look he gave me was pure hatred.

“Come on, sugar. I’m here, he won’t bother you.”

Placing my hand in his, I didn’t say a word as I closed my door. I stayed close as we approached the bar. My nerves were shot, and I needed that drink more than ever.

He stopped, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him. “Are you okay, Suzy?”

“Yeah, Joey. He didn’t hurt me, but he’s creepy as hell.”

He wrapped his arms around me, cocooning me. Melting into him, I buried my face in his shirt. Unlike the man from the parking lot, City smelled amazing—the mix of musky cologne with his natural scent. My hand drifted across his chest until I found the piercing I’d become fond of touching.

“Sugar, keep doing that and we won’t make it through the first drink before I take you in the bathroom and fuck you raw.”

I leaned back with a smirk on my face. “I can’t help myself. It’s nice to finally touch you after such a long week.” I buried my face in his shirt again, not letting go of the little metal object attached to his body.

“I have another piercing that could use some attention,” he said through clenched teeth as he ground his cock against me.

“Nah, I’m good. Drink first, then you can do anything you want to me.”

Did I just say that? I needed to learn to filter my promises—he was not a bland and boring lover, he liked his sex hard and fast, and he had mentioned my ass. Don’t even think about it.

“Anything?” he whispered.

“Within reason.” I smiled against his chest—thank God my face was hidden.

“That’s my girl. Always thinking.” He laughed and wrapped me under his arm before walking through the doors of the Neon Cowboy and into the firing squad of males that had egos to protect and manhood to show off. Lord, help me.

***

The guys I’d met the first night insisted that we sit with them. I reassured City that it was fine as long as he never left my side. The asshole in the parking lot had already put me on edge, and a tableful of strangers didn’t help put my mind at ease.

Bear and Tank talked me into lemon drop shots and beer. I couldn’t exactly order my virgin daiquiri sitting at table full of bikers. I tried to fit in, calm my nerves, and get in the right frame of mind for my “kidnapping.” I listened to them talk about bikes and tats—a world foreign to me, but still entertaining. They looked scary, but they were good guys that just wanted to hang out, drink beer, and bullshit.

Bear looked just like his nickname—wild, curly, overgrown hair; a beard; big and burly. When he stood, I could picture him like a grizzly bear on its hind legs ready to attack. When he spoke about his kids and old lady, he reminded me more of a teddy bear. I quickly learned my first impression of him had been wrong, and I needed to be more open-minded. Wilder shit had happened.

“What are you two kids doing tonight?” Bear asked as he washed down the last sip of beer.

I felt the heat crawling up my face, and I couldn’t answer his question. I sat there and stared at City. I’d let him field that question.

“Nothing much, Bear. Just going to kidnap this beautiful creature and use her how I see fit.” He winked at me and looked at Bear with a cocky smile.

I glanced around the table, and everyone was staring at me. I was sure the picture in their mind was accurate, minus the actual kidnapping part.

Bear slapped City on the back. “That’s my boy,” he said with a laugh.

City leaned over and nuzzled his face in my hair. “Why don’t you head out and I’ll find you, sugar,” he whispered in my ear. I shivered at his words. I wanted him to play this game.

I turned my face and kissed him on the lips. “Yes, sir. Catch me if you can.” The guys at the table started to hoot and holler as I stood from the table, almost knocking over my chair as City caught it. “Sorry about that,” I said as I stood on shaky legs.

“Get going, sugar.” City swatted me on the ass, and I yelped. I shouldn’t have done that last shot.

I kept my eyes on the floor, making sure not to trip on my way out the door. My eyesight felt fuzzy, and my head was cloudy from the vodka. I turned to look back at City before walking out the door. Every man at that table stared at me. City looked excited as he winked at me with a tilted grin that made my panties wet, but the rest of them looked in shock. Maybe City had clued them in on our little role-playing adventure that lay ahead.

I smiled and waved; the cool air touched my skin as I walked outside to wait for my captor to find me. My heart thundered and my stomach gurgled as I made my way toward my car. I was ready for him.

20

WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF…

CITY

“WERE YOU BEING FUCKING SERIOUS?” Tank leaned forward.

“About what? Using her?”

“Fuck, all of it,” he said with an eyebrow raised and one side of his mouth curved in a smile.

“All of it. I got to go, boys. Time to go find my victim for the night.” I stood from the table and threw a fifty down. “You gentleman have a good night with that image rolling around in your head right now.”

They couldn’t even begin to process what we were really going to do. They thought “kidnap” was just a nice way of saying I was going to take her away from the bar and have sex with her, but I was going to literally kidnap her.

“Can one of you take my bike home tonight and I’ll grab it in the morning?” I asked before walking away.

“I’ll take it,” Bear said. “I’ll tow it to Tank’s shop.”

“Thanks, man—my dick thanks you too.” I laughed as I tossed him the keys.

“At least someone’s prick will be happy tonight,” Bear mumbled as he placed the keys in his jacket pocket.

I didn’t say anything, but couldn’t stop laughing. Poor bastards.

I rolled my neck as I headed for the door, cracking it almost like I was prepping for a game. I’d give Suzy everything she wanted and more.

“City!” a voice rang through the crowd. Fuck. “City!” A hand waved above the crowd, and I knew the voice but pretended not to hear her.

I didn’t turn around, but walked faster until a hand wrapped around my arm.

“Oh, Kaylee, I didn’t see you.”

“I was screaming your name,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath.

“Didn’t hear you, either. I’m in a hurry and got to go.”

“I’ve missed you, City.” She tried to wrap her arms around me, but I grabbed them and forced them away.

“Stop, Kaylee. I really don’t have time for this shit.”

“You’ve always had time for me before.” She pouted and tried to play the guilt card.

“I don’t now. I have to go meet my girlfriend,” I said, hoping she’d get the fucking hint.

“Girlfriend? Since when?” She looked in shock as she held my arm, digging her nails into my flesh.

“Bye, Kaylee. I don’t have time for a goddamn chitchat. My girl’s waiting for me, and I don’t mean you.”

I left her there with her mouth open and gulping for air like a fish. I needed to get to Suzy. I’d already left her entirely too long outside by herself. Damn it. She had to be in knots by now, but then again, it probably helped build her excitement.

Rubbing my face as I walked outside, I couldn’t believe fucking Kaylee. I was supposed to be only moments behind Suzy; she’d fumbled with her keys trying to unlock her car when I grabbed her from behind. She could’ve changed her mind and gone home with the amount of time that had elapsed.

Her car was parked in the same spot, but her door was open and she wasn’t inside. I looked around—where the fuck was she? I studied every inch of the parking lot, but couldn’t see her. My heart thundered in my chest. I felt sick. I heard a muffled cry, but couldn’t tell where it came from over the street noise. “Suzy,” I screamed, panic taking hold.

Her purse lay on the ground near her car; I just had to find her. I couldn’t stand there and wait any longer. I had to move. I ran into the woods behind her car and surveyed the area. I listened for any sound; a man’s voice caught my attention—faint but enough to pull my gaze to behind the bar.

I ran in the direction of the noise and saw a man on top of a woman, Suzy, raising his fist before striking her. “You bitch,” he seethed. It was the motherfucker that had bothered her earlier when I arrived.

I grabbed him by the throat before he could land another blow and slammed his body to the ground. The force of his head connecting with the concrete made a horrific sound from his skull cracking. Straddling him, I pummeled him with my fists, feeding off the sound of his jawbone crunching underneath my knuckles. He moaned, but I didn’t give a fuck. He hit a woman, my woman. I punched him again then grabbed his head, and I wanted to bash it into the cement to watch all of his blood ooze out, but a pair of hands began to pull me off him, stopping me.

“City, you’re going to fuckin’ kill him,” Bear said as he tried to pull me back.

“Fuckin’ bastard deserves to die.” I moved my hand to punch him again, but Bear grabbed my wrist.

“Goddamn, man. He’s out cold. Get the fuck away from him and take care of your girl.”

Suzy. I had been so busy beating the fuck out him, lost in my anger, I forgot to check on her. She lay on the cement with her eyes closed, not moving. She was limp in my arms as I cradled her against my chest. Blood dripped from her lip and nose, and I brushed the hair from her eyes to look for more damage. She had a red mark that would turn into a bruise near her temple.

“Suzy,” I whispered, brushing my fingers across her face. “Suzy, wake up, sugar.” I gathered her legs off the cold ground and placed her in my lap.

I looked at Bear as he stood over me with wide eyes. “Call an ambulance, Bear.”

“On it, buddy.” He stood over the asshole lying on the ground unconscious, and I saw Bear kick him. “The attacker is knocked out on the ground. I’ll keep him restrained,” Bear said to the person on the phone.

“Suzy, come on, sweetie. Wake up, beautiful.” I kissed her warm lips. This was my fucking fault. “I’m so sorry, Suzy.” Fuck. Her clothes were in place, nothing was torn, but they had dirt on them from being on the ground.

Her eyes started to open, and I felt like I could breathe again. I smiled at her, touching her cheek. “City,” she said with a shaky voice. Her arms started to move, reaching for me.

“Don’t move, sugar. Wait for the ambulance.” I didn’t want her to injure herself worse than that fucker may have already done.

“What happened?” She stared at me with her big, beautiful blue eyes. I could see the confusion and hurt in them.

“I’m sorry, Suzy. I got held up inside and I showed up too late. This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t force you live out one of your fantasies.”

She smiled sweetly at me. “Ouch.” Her tongue slid across her lip and stopped on the blood.

“You’re bleeding, sugar. Just lie still until the paramedics can check you out.”

“What about?” She didn’t have to finish the sentence—I knew what she wanted to know.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.”

She closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. “What did you do, City?”

“I gave the fucker a taste of his own medicine. He’s out cold.” I wiped the tear away from her cheek with my thumb.

“Is he”—her lip began to tremble—“dead?”

“He’s alive. I wanted to kill the prick, but Bear pulled me off him.” Sobs tore through her as her body began to shake. “Shh, I got you. No one’s going to hurt you ever again, Suzy.”

I held her until the paramedics arrived, and a second ambulance pulled in a moment later. Two men pulled her from my grasp, assessing her injuries before placing her on a stretcher and completing their evaluation. I watched as they checked the fucker’s body on the ground. Fuck him. I hoped the bastard fucking died.

“We need to take her to the hospital. She’s sustained some head injuries and we want to make sure it’s not serious,” the EMT said. “Would you like to meet us there?”

“I’ll follow you.” I looked over his shoulder and saw them loading Suzy into the ambulance. “Can I speak to her first?”

“Yes, quickly, so we can leave.”

I climbed in the ambulance and crouched down next to the stretcher. Her body was strapped in and machines were attached to her arms. Suzy looked worse with the lights shining on her face. “Sugar, you want me to go with you or follow them?”

“Take my car, City. I don’t want it here, please.”

I leaned over and kissed her. My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest. “I got it. I’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry,” I said, not wanting to leave her, but wanting to obey her wishes.

She gave me a weak smile before I climbed out and headed for her car, moving as fast I could to be by her side. I had to beg for her forgiveness, and I prayed her injuries weren’t serious. I could never live with myself. I found Suzy’s phone lying by her purse, and I knew what I had to do. I dialed Kayden and Sophia and knew there would be hell to pay.

21

SOMETIMES SHIT NEEDS TO STAY FICTION

SUZY

TIME SEEMED to pass in slow motion as a flurry of doctors and nurses poked and prodded me. I repeated the story of what happened so many times I could’ve recited it in my sleep.

“One more time, ma’am. What happened to you tonight?” the doctor asked as he placed a small light in my eyes.

I sighed and wanted to tell him to fuck off as he moved the light back and forth, momentarily blinding me. “Do I have to say it again? I’ve told you the story already.” My patience was wearing thin.

“I need to make sure you have no memory issues from the blow to your head. Last time, I swear.”

“You said that last time we did this.” I rolled my eyes.

The doctor snickered. “I guess there’s no short-term memory problems.”

“My boyfriend and I were at a bar tonight, and I walked out before he did. I thought he was right behind me, and when I unlocked my car someone grabbed me from behind. By the time I realized what was happening, I was already on the ground and tried to fight back, but it was no use. I don’t remember much else.”

A police officer stood in the corner and scribbled on a little notepad as I spoke.

“I remember waking up in Joey’s arms and then the ambulance arriving.”

I couldn’t give the truth. My boyfriend was supposed to kidnap me as we played out my fantasy for him to abduct me and make me his sex slave. Who did shit like that?

“We’re just going to keep you here overnight for observation. You have a couple of bruised ribs, the laceration on your lip, and a concussion, but nothing that will cause long-term damage,” the doctor said, staring at his clipboard. “We’ll get you into a regular room as soon as possible so you can rest. We will release you in the morning.”

“Is anyone here to see me?” I couldn’t believe that City hadn’t shown up, or anyone for that matter.

“Yes, but he’s been instructed to wait outside until we complete your assessment.”

“Can he come in now, please?”

My body ached, my face throbbed, and my head pounded from the aftereffects of the attack. I wanted to rest my eyes and turn off the light, but I needed to talk to City. I had to find out what happened, and why he wasn’t the one to find me alone in the parking lot.

“Yes, I’ll have the nurses talk with him and send him in. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. McCarthy.”

“Thanks,” I said with a fake smile. I had nothing to be thankful for. All I wanted to do was crawl in my own bed and sleep against City’s body. Crunchy hospital sheets, plastic mattresses, and thin blankets were not my idea of comfortable.

I threw my head back onto the thin pillow, squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t have any tears left.

“Ma’am,” the officer said, and cleared his throat. “I’ve taken down your statement, but I may need more details. We have your attacker in custody and the statement of Joseph Gallo and another gentleman, but we may still need your side to fill in the gaps. Here’s my card. Call me when you can talk. It can wait until you’re home and more comfortable.” He smiled at me, and I could see he was genuine.

“I’ll call you, sir. I just don’t feel like talking about it anymore tonight.” I rubbed my eyes. The lights were making my headache worse, and I wanted to sleep.

“No problem, ma’am.”

Drawing back the curtain to leave, I caught a glimpse of City. A frown was visible as he looked at me. I could see the pain on his face. His hands appeared swollen, and red dotted his knuckles—blood from the pounding he must have given to the asshole.

“Hey,” he said as he approached my bed.

“Hey yourself.”

“Are you okay, sugar?” He sat down on the bed and held my hand.

“I’m okay, City. They’re just keeping me for observation.” I shrugged.

Touching my cheek with the rough pads of his fingers, he studied my face. His eyes roamed over every inch, stopping on my lips and cheekbone. “God, I’m so sorry, Suzy. It’s all my fault.” Deep lines appeared on his forehead.

“It wasn’t your fault. You meant well. I give you an A for effort, but a D in completion, big boy.” I smirked. I couldn’t really be mad at him.

“Don’t make jokes, sugar.” He tried to keep a straight face, but I saw a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. “I could’ve lost you tonight.” He squeezed my hand.

“What happened to you? You were supposed to be only a minute behind me, Joey.” Closing my eyes, I remembered the fear I felt when I realized it wasn’t City grabbing me from behind.

“I was on my way out of the bar after joking with the guys, but I got held up. I tried to get away as quickly as possible. I didn’t want you to be outside alone. I should’ve never taken you to that bar. Fuck.” He rubbed his face, “What happened before I got there, sugar?”

Tears began to fill my eyes as I spoke. I couldn’t hold them back. “I pretended to drop my keys when I heard someone behind me. I thought it was you. As I bent down to pick them up, he grabbed me by the hair and knocked me off balance.” I paused, trying to steady my voice. “He pulled me by my hair behind the building, and I tried to get free of him. I kicked and screamed, but no one heard me. He hit me in the face and called me names. I could taste the blood in my mouth. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in your arms.” I cuddled into City, needing the feeling of safety.

“Shh, sugar. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.” He crawled in the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I cried in his chest until there were no more tears left. He stroked my hair, kissing my head, rocking me until I calmed.

“Where is she?” Sophia’s voice woke me from my peaceful slumber. “I don’t give a shit, I want to see her now.”

Jesus.

“Ma’am, you can’t go in there.”

The curtain opened in one quick motion, and a scared Sophia appeared. “Oh my God, Suzy. I’ve been worried sick about you.” She rushed to my bedside.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye—Kayden. He looked pissed. More pissed than I’d ever seen him, and I’d seen him pretty crazy at times over the years.

“I’m okay, Sophia. Just some scrapes and bruises. I’ll heal.”

“You could’ve been killed, for shit’s sake. And you.” She glared at City, pointing at him. “You were supposed to protect her from shit like this. How could you let her go outside alone?”

“It’s not his fault,” I said, but she held up her hand.

“Well?” she asked.

“City, may I speak to you for a moment?” Kayden asked in a calm voice.

I didn’t like pissed-off-looking and calm-sounding Kayden. “You both need to back off,” I said.

“Suzy, this is between City and me. I won’t keep him long,” Kayden said.

I looked at City, silently pleading with him not to go. He squeezed my hand as he slid off the bed. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” He gave me a wink and a smile before leaving with Kayden.

“Let the boys talk. What the fuck happened, Suzy?” Sophia sat down next to me, tilting her head before she grabbed my hand. “God, I was out of my mind when City called. This is all my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Sophia. I walked out and everything was going perfectly. I guess City got held up for a second, and that’s all it took.” I wiped the remaining tears off my cheek. “The same creep had bothered me before and must’ve been waiting for me. It was stupid to think we could live out that fantasy. It’s not as sexy as it sounds anymore.”

“Fuck, it’s my fault.” She hung her head.

“Sophia, why would it be your fault?”

“I kinda told him about your fantasy.” She didn’t look me in the eyes.

“You did what?”

She stood up and moved out of reach. “When he was doing my tattoo, I told him that you don’t like to share your fantasies, and told him about your kidnapping thing you’ve been dying to live out.”

Jesus Christ. “Sophia, I know we’re best friends and all, but that was between you, me, and Kayden.” I took a deep breath and tried not to be angry. Sophia loved me, and so did Kayden. We always talked about sex, and they were the two people in the world that never judged me. Kayden was the only male that let me pick his brain on the subject, and he answered honestly without making me feel like an idiot. “I’m a little embarrassed here. I thank you for trying to give me what I want, but that was my secret to tell.”

“If it would’ve worked out, he would’ve knocked your socks off, babe. City is exactly the type of guy you need to be with. Don’t let this experience put doubt in that pretty little head of yours. He was a wreck, Suzy. I feel a little shitty now that I got bitchy with him. He really cares for you, my little OCD friend.”

I laughed. I always made Sophia insane with all my little quirks and lists. The woman lived life by the seat of her pants, and I wanted everything planned. I had lists for my lists, and I would even include her on my lists when we lived together. “I know he cares, Sophia. I saw the pain in his eyes tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so afraid for me before.”

I could hear the murmured voices of Kayden and City but couldn’t make out the words. “What is he saying to City?”

“You know Kayden is very protective of you. He’s just having a man-to-man.”

“I’m not a child, Sophia. Kayden better be nice.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Kayden’s always nice. They’re just chatting.” She smiled, but I could see the worry on her face.

Life had become so complicated, and my plans seemed to unravel before my eyes. I felt like Sophia on the rollercoaster she experienced when falling in love with Kayden. She put her hands up and screamed through the ride, while I wanted to jump off and keep my feet on the ground.

22

WHO’S THE BOSS?

CITY

“HOW IN THE fuck could you let her walk outside alone?” Kayden stood toe to toe with me. I didn’t blame him—he cared for Suzy.

“Kayden, I know, man. I was supposed to be right behind her. Everything got fucked up.” I kept eye contact with him. I wouldn’t show weakness, even though I knew the entire thing happened because of Kaylee and my past. My fucking cock always caused trouble.

“Yeah, I’d say. If anything happens to her, City, I’ll kick your ass. I may look small compared to you, but I’ll crush you. Hear that shit.”

I clenched my hands, stopping myself from beating his ass right here in the hospital. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. Throwing down with Kayden would only drive a wedge between Suzy and me. I’d let him say his piece. “Got it loud and clear, Kayden. I’ll protect her with my life.”

“I know you didn’t mean for any of it to happen, City, but I expect more.” He stepped back. “She’s like a sister to me. Just protect her and we won’t have an issue. I don’t want to be a dick, but I had to tell you that you fucked up.”

“I know, and I will, Kayden. I’m happy that you love her and you’ll look out for her if I’m not around. I know I fucked up and I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to her.”

“Are you planning on breaking her heart, man?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared. “If this shit is just a game to you, then you need to end it now.”

“Fuck no, but I don’t know where her head is right now.” I rubbed my eyes, exhausted from the events of tonight.

“Don’t give her a choice, City. She’s quick to overthink everything. She needs a little push sometimes.”

“I’m happy to show her the way. Are we good, man?” I asked. “I need to get back to her.”

“Yeah, we’re good.” He held out his hand to me.

“Thanks, man.” I shook his hand.

I walked through the curtain to the girls whispering on the bed. “Hey, ladies,” Kayden said behind me. “Suzy, how are you, love?” He walked in front of me and stood next to her bed.

I stood at the foot of the bed and watched them as they interacted. They were a family, anyone could see that. There was a love and a shared past that brought them together. They chatted as I stood there, transfixed. Suzy looked battered, with bruises and a split lip. It would take forever for the effects to fade from her beautiful face.

“We have a room ready for you,” a nurse said as she entered the small space.

“Oh, great,” Sophia said. “We better head home, Suzy. Sleep well, and we’ll stop by tomorrow to see you.” She kissed Suzy on the cheek, and Kayden did the same.

“Night, Suzy.” Kayden turned to me. “City, make sure she’s okay tonight. Don’t leave her alone.” He wrapped his arm around Sophia.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Kayden.”

“I love you guys. City will take good care of me. Go home—Jett will be up soon.”

“Bye, love,” Sophia said before they walked out.

I sat down next to her as the nurse started to unhook the machines. “Hey, sugar. How are you really feeling?”

“Sore.” She winced as she moved her limbs. “Can you find a mirror? I want to see my face.”

Oh God. Her face was swollen, with a small amount of dried blood in the corner of her mouth. I didn’t want her to see herself all bruised. “I’ll find one soon. Wait until you’re moved.”

“You can follow, sir. We’re taking her to the second floor for the night.” The nurse removed the brake on the bed as I stood and moved out of the way.

“I’m not leaving her side, ma’am,” I said as Suzy laid her head on the pillow and smiled at me. I wouldn’t leave her tonight.

The trip to her room was quick, and the nurse left us alone and didn’t ask any questions. I sat down in the chair next to her as she yawned. My eyes felt heavy and my mind cloudy.

“Will you sleep up here with me? I mean, there isn’t much room, but I want you to hold me tonight. I need you.”

How could I say no to anything she asked? I’d stand on my head all night if it made her fucking happy. “Anything you want, sugar.” I kicked off my shoes, climbing in the small twin bed before lying on my side, pulling her face to my chest. “Try to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

The tiny bed was perfect as I cradled her in my arms. She gripped my shirt, resting her face against my shoulder. I enveloped her in my arms, I wanted her to feel safe, and I needed to know that she was okay.

Listening to her breath as she slept, I smelled her hair, but it had the scent of the cigarette smoke from the bar, and dirt. Her body twitched as she whimpered in her sleep. I wanted to crawl inside her dream and rescue her.

I flexed my hands; the stiffness from the bruises and small cuts made me wince. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t felt before, but I couldn’t work for a couple of days until they healed. After pulling my phone from my pocket, I adjusted her body without waking her then sent Anthony a message. My other siblings would be in a panic and the entire crew would be here, but Anthony I could count on to keep the information low key—at least for tonight.

Me: Won’t be in tomorrow. Tell Mikey to reschedule my appointments. Thanks, bro.

Anthony had a gig in Clearwater, and he was a sure bet to get the information.

Anthony: I told him, he’s with me.

Fuck. Might as well have put it on the evening news or taken out a fucking billboard. Mikey would have a million questions and would want details.

Anthony: What the fuck happened? Not like you to not work.

I didn’t want to give them the details, but I had to give enough to get them off my back. I didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter. I’d have to cancel dinner with the family. My mother would want to know why—no one got out of dinner without a legitimate excuse. I wanted to stay with Suzy for the weekend and make sure she was okay before I let her be alone.

Me: Situation at the bar tonight. I need to stay with Suzy. Tell Mom I can’t make it and clear my schedule for a couple days at least.

Anthony: WTF happened? You okay?

Suzy didn’t move as I typed with one hand, trying not to break the embrace.

Me: Beat the shit out of some fucker that attacked her. She’s in the hospital for the night and I want to stay with her after she’s released. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to flip out.

Anthony: Gotcha, but Mom is going to want details. Which hospital?

Me: County Hospital, but we’re okay. My hands are just swollen. I’ll be fine.

Anthony: Gotcha. Mum’s the word.

Nothing stayed a secret in my family. It was like the mafia party line. I knew Mikey had probably read over Anthony’s shoulder, and soon the entire brigade would be on high alert. I set the phone above my pillow and closed my eyes, wrapping Suzy in my arms.

I tried to think about happy things, Suzy’s laugh or how she kissed me, but all I could think of was her limp body and bloodied face in my arms. I kept opening my eyes to remind myself that she was okay. I waited for exhaustion to take me and wipe that vision from my mind.

The sound of plastic squeaking against the tile floor woke me early in the morning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” a nurse said as she moved to the IV stand.

I grunted and waited for her to leave before closing my eyes again. Hospitals aren’t the place for rest. The movement outside the room is constant, alarms and announcements echo through the halls, and people talk loud enough to wake the dead. I felt like a Mack truck had hit me. My back was stiff, my eyes burned, and my hands throbbed. I wanted to get the fuck out of here and crawl in a real bed with her.

A quiet knock caused Suzy to stir, and my mother stood in the doorway. Fucking brothers—always mama’s boys.

“Hey,” she said, smiling.

I held put my finger to my lips, hoping not to wake Suzy as my ma entered the room. “It’s early, Ma. What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“Your brother told me something happened and that you were here with Suzy. You know I can’t sleep good when I worry about my children.” She stood next to the bed, looking at Suzy’s face against my chest.

“I’m fine, Ma. I couldn’t leave her and I want to stay with her when she gets out for a couple days. I didn’t think Mikey would put out an all-points bulletin.”

“Always so quick to blame Michael, aren’t you, Joseph? It was Anthony that texted me. I just wanted to stop and see if you two were okay.” She shook her head at me.

When did my mother learn how to text?

“We will be as soon as we get out of this shithole.”

“What happened, son?” My mom pulled up a chair and waited for my answer.

“Someone assaulted her. When I found her, I kicked his ass.” I didn’t want to meet my mother’s eyes. She was the only person in the world I never wanted to disappoint. I wasn’t a mama’s boy, but in an Italian family a mother is the queen bee, top dog, and wore the pants. Even my father bowed down to her and cherished the ground she walked on. He wasn’t a pussy, and could kick ass in his youth, but Mrs. Gallo wasn’t a person any of us wanted to piss off. “Trust me, Ma, he looks worse than me.”

She wrinkled her nose; she never liked to think of any of her children fighting, even Mikey. “Where were you?”

“Neon Cowboy, and we were on our way out after having a couple drinks.” I definitely didn’t want to share that I’d planned to kidnap my girlfriend. Sex wasn’t something I talked to my mother about, and usually not even my father.

“I told you I hate that damn bar. There’s nothing but trouble in those types of places. Haven’t you learned anything from Thomas?” She wasn’t mad, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Yes, Ma. I have friends there, clients even, and I like it there. I’m not going to stop hanging out there because of the what-ifs.”

“Is she okay, son?” She peeked over my shoulder, her eyes growing wide as she took in the sight of Suzy’s face.

“Yeah, she’ll heal. Just waiting for the doctor to come and release her. I won’t be there Sunday, but I promise to be there next week.”

“Sure, baby. Can I drop off food, at least? That way you can spend time taking care of her without having to cook.”

How could I say no to my mother? When she offered food it was the highest honor. She lived to cook and take care of her family. If I said no, it would be an enormous insult and there would be hell to pay.

“Sure, Ma. I’d love if you’d stop by with some food.” I didn’t entirely mean that statement, but I knew it would make her happy.

“I’m going to go and let you two rest. I don’t want to wake her. I’ll call you later, Joseph.” She stood up and kissed my forehead. She was the only person in the world that I’d let treat me like a child. No matter how many times I told her I wasn’t, she just made it all the more unbearable, smothering me with her love.

“Okay, Ma. Thanks.”

“I love you, Joseph. Take care of that one.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

She walked out of the room and I ran my fingers over the bruises on Suzy’s face. They were brighter in color and more visible than they had been the night before. She began to stir at my touch, and her eyes opened. The side crinkled from the smile on her face.

“You stayed?”

“Where else would I go, sugar?”

She closed her eyes and made a sound like “I don’t know” as she smashed her face in my chest and inhaled. “Can we get out of here?”

“I’ll go see if I can get the doctor to discharge you. Let me get up.”

She winced as I helped her move out of my arms and climbed off the bed. “You’re going to spend all day in bed when I get you out of here.”

“Oooh, that sounds so sexy.” She laughed and held her side.

“Bad girl, you’re injured—rest only.” I was happy to see that her spirit hadn’t vanished with the attack. “Be right back or I’ll break you out of this joint.”

I found a nurse sitting at a desk and pleaded with her to process the paperwork quicker than normal. “You can help her get dressed to speed up the process if you’d like, sir,” the nurse said as she typed.

“Sure, we’ll be waiting, ma’am.” I returned to the room to find Suzy trying to climb out of bed. “What the hell are you doing?” I said, rushing to her side.

“I needed to pee.” She looked up at me with a shy, embarrassed smile.

“I’ll help you, sugar. Then we got to get you dressed.”

“Fine. I hate having to need help to walk, City. This is a little ridiculous.”

“It’s what I’m here for. You’re mine and I’m going to take care of you this weekend. No arguments. Got it?” I waited for her reply before taking her hand.

“Yes, sir. I’m yours for the weekend. I thought it would be a bit different, but…” She shrugged.

“Makes two of us. Come on, sweetheart.” I helped her to the bathroom and then grabbed her clothes. I hit them a couple times to get the dirt off before she dressed.

“I need a shower,” she said as she hobbled out of the bathroom.

“I’ll help you as soon as we get you home.”

“You’re the boss.”

I liked the sound of those words coming out of her mouth. I wouldn’t take any lip from her this weekend. She was mine.

23

MOUTH-WATERING GOODNESS

SUZY

I SETTLED IN MY BED, thankful to be home, and watched City as he undressed. I’d never been with a man that I couldn’t stop staring at. I wanted the image etched in my brain. His muscular build flexed as he took off his pants. The tattoos on his torso and arms moved, and I was mesmerized as if watching a movie. I ached to tug on the bar that hung from his nipple, salivated to taste his flesh, and shivered at the thought of him inside me.

He kicked his pants in the air and caught them. “Don’t look at me like that, sugar.” His shaft bobbed, catching my attention; my mouth suddenly felt dry.

I blinked and looked at his face. “Like what? I was just thinking about how skilled you are at catching your pants.” I giggled.

“You just looked at my dick in a way that makes me want to jam it down your throat.” He grinned at me, and even though my face hurt, I wanted nothing more than for him to do that to me. “Not today, sugar.”

“Tomorrow?” I raised my eyebrows, hoping that I could entice him, or at least get a promise of something before the weekend ended.

“We’ll see. I decide when and how. What can I get you?”

“Your cock.” I knew when I said dirty words that he couldn’t resist me. If he continued to deny me, I sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy on him.

He rubbed his face and muttered something I couldn’t quite make out. “Want something to drink or eat?”

He stood there, buck-naked and mouth-wateringly delicious, and waited for my answer. How could I think of water when his beautiful body was on full display? I shook my head and patted the mattress with a crooked smile.

“Tomorrow, sugar.”

A pout hung on my lips, but inside I was happy to at least get a concession. “Good enough. I don’t have anything in the fridge, City. I didn’t think I’d be here much this weekend.” Admitting to an Italian man that you lacked even the staples in your pantry wasn’t easy.

“My mother wants to drop off food later. Are you okay with that?”

“Really?” My mother had never brought me food, even when I had the flu. I always fended for myself, even if it meant crawling to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His mother, a woman I’d never met, would bring me food, and I had a twinge of jealousy. What would it have been like to grow up in a house like his?

“I can call her anytime and she’ll drop something off. You just say the word.”

“Word, word, word! Does your mom use Ragu like mine?” My mother never cooked from scratch. As a child I thought Chef Boyardee was the bee’s knees, until I grew up and realized it was closer to vomit in a can.

City laughed, and his smile made my chest ache. “Don’t even mention the word Ragu to her. She’ll have a mental breakdown.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Remind me to never cook for her, okay?”

City grabbed his phone as he crawled in bed. “Hey, Ma. Suzy’s going to rest for a bit, but we’d love for you to drop by with some food.” I could hear her talking on the phone, and it reminded me of Charlie Brown’s teacher. I couldn’t make out the words, but I heard a garbled voice as I put my head on his chest. I played with the piercing, which earned me a stern look. “I’ll text you her address. Thanks, Ma.”

He put the phone down and stared at me, but I just smiled. “What?” I asked innocently.

“You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Maybe.” I kissed his nipple, tugging on the hoop with my lips. He inhaled sharply as I bit down.

“Sugar, not now. I’m trying to be real good here, and you’re not in any shape right now to do the things to you I want. Later, when you’ve rested and had something to eat, I’ll give you more than you can handle…if I feel you’re up to it.”

“Party killer,” I said, as I laid my head back down in the crook of his arm.

“Be a good girl and sleep.” His fingertips trailed down my back, leaving a wake of warmth against my skin. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of his hands on me, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted.

***

I didn’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I was alone in the bed. His side was still warm. My muscles rebelled and ached as I stretched. “Damn,” I whispered, wanting to move without pain.

The doorbell rang and my heart started to pound—his mother. I didn’t look presentable, and my face had to be a mess. I’d stared at it in horror this morning at the hospital. This wasn’t the way I wanted to meet his mom.

I could hear them talking in the kitchen. The door cracked open and I turned my head, praying it was City. “Hey, sugar, ma’s here. Do you want to meet her?”

“I look like crap, City. I can’t have her see me like this.”

He sat down next to me. “Sugar, she was at the hospital this morning. She’s seen your face. She’s not going to stare at you.”

I sighed. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry. Come on, just a quick hello. She made you lasagna.” He brushed the hair away from my face, following the curve of my cheek.

I’d do anything this man asked me to. A smile, touch, or kiss and I was totally and utterly his. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come out.”

Meeting parents always scared me to death, and it meant a step deeper into a relationship. His mother obviously loved her son enough to bring us food, and I wanted to at least thank her for her kindness.

I looked into the mirror, touched the stitching on my lip with my tongue, noticing the coppery taste of blood. There was no need to bother with makeup. I couldn’t look any worse than I did, and if she liked me now then I’d knock her socks off when she saw me at my best. Dressed in my favorite hoodie and sweats, I walked out to meet Mrs. Gallo.

“There she is,” City said, standing from the couch with a smile plastered on his face.

Mrs. Gallo stood up and turned around. Her face was lit up and she looked like the mom I always wanted. She had long, wavy brown hair, big brown eyes, and a kind smile. “Suzy, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry for how we’re meeting, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gallo, I’m feeling much better.” I moved to sit next to City, and grabbed his hand. “Thank you for making me lasagna. It’s one of my favorites.”

“My pleasure. Food always helps make everything better,” she said.

“Italian motto,” City muttered, and I laughed.

“I’m going to get going now and leave you two kids to enjoy your food. I just wanted to say hello. Is there anything else I can do before I leave?”

“No, ma’am, you’ve done more than I can ask for.”

“Mrs. G or Maria, please. You need anything, just have Joseph call me.”

“Joseph.” I laughed. It sounded so serious, and fit him well.

“Watch it,” he said in a playful tone, and squeezed my hand.

We all stood and hugged his mother goodbye. We walked to the door and watched her leave. I pictured her climbing into a minivan, even though she didn’t have small children. I never pegged her for a woman that drove a Mercedes. I dreamed of a new Honda and knew it would be a budget killer…maybe someday.

“Your mom is great,” I said as I wrapped my arm around his waist.

“She can be, but she’s a pit bull when you cross her—just ask my father,” he said. “Want some lasagna?”

“What’s for dessert?” I asked as he closed the door.

“Anything you want, sugar.”

“You know what I want,” I said.

“Are you up to it?”

“Question is, big boy, are you up to it?” I wanted him, and I figured that if I challenged his manhood, he’d finally cave. All men are the same in that regard.

He laughed. “Don’t ask questions if you can’t handle hearing the answer. Eat your food and I’ll show you how up to it I am, sugar.”

He placed a giant piece of lasagna with cheese oozing out in front of me. My stomach growled at the smell, and the feeling of hunger finally registered. I cut into the slice and watched all the insides squish onto my plate. The hot lasagna spread across my tongue, and I wanted to moan from the taste.

“That good, huh?” City asked as he scooped a chunk in his mouth.

“What? Did I?”

“Yep, you moaned, sugar.”

My face became heated. “Well, I’m used to Stouffer’s lasagna. This is amazing, City. You don’t know how lucky you were to grow up on this type of home cooking.” I slid the fork across my tongue and slowly chewed, letting all the flavors dance on my tongue.

“I never thought about it.” His fork stopped near his mouth as he looked at me with piercing eyes. “Suzy, you keep making noises like that and I won’t let you finish the next bite.” He set the fork on his plate and leaned back.

“I need my fuel to get better.” I placed another sliver in my mouth, closed my eyes, and made a small sound in the back of my throat.

“You have thirty seconds to finish what’s in front of you before I take your ass in the bedroom and give you something to really moan about.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his watch.

I shoveled the food in my mouth. I felt torn in this moment, but the lasagna could always be reheated.

“Fifteen.” He smiled at me, and I felt everything in my body convulse and scream to be touched. I chewed like a maniac.

“Five.”

“Wait!” I held up my hand. “I need something to drink,” I said as I hopped off the high-top café chair.

“I got something for you to wash that down with, sugar. Time’s up.”

***

“Slower, Suzette,” City said in my ear as he rocked in and out of me. “It’s not a marathon. I want to savor being inside you.”

“I’ve just missed you. Missed this.”

“We have the rest of the weekend. I don’t want to hurt you. Slow.” He grabbed my hips and held me still as he slowed his pace. I wanted to scream and claw him, but I knew it wouldn’t help to fight him.

He rested his forehead against mine as he encased my body and assaulted my senses. This was more than just sex. He expressed his feelings, and I felt them seep into my body. I stared in his eyes as he stared into mine before he kissed my lips. The pain of the kiss didn’t stop me from returning it with fervor.

My fingers dug into his shoulders and I felt them flex under my touch. Each thrust brought me closer to the release I craved. His breathing grew harsh as he curled his arms under my body, tilting my hips.

My hands rested on his hips, unable to reach his ass, as I felt them relax and constrict with each thrust. I wished I had a mirror to watch his ass and back as he moved with my body. I squeezed the soft skin and hard muscle as the orgasm tore through my body. It was stronger than anything I had felt before. My toes curled and my muscles clenched around him as his pace quickened, before he slammed into me one last time, reaching his own bliss.

He nuzzled my neck and kissed the soft skin, making a trail to my lips. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you, sugar.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled his face to mine, forcing his eyes to see me. “I’m fine, Joey. You saved me.” I kissed him and didn’t give him a chance to respond. He flipped us over, and I straddled his body before breaking the kiss.

“No more fantasies that don’t involve me by your side, but I still want to make them come true.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” I smiled against his chest as I kissed the skin over his heart. I listened to his heart thud in his chest. I had never felt so content with any person, let alone a man.

City spent the rest of the weekend helping me. Even though it started rocky, it ended with me feeling more loved and adored than I ever had. I couldn’t deny my feelings for him any longer. My checklist no longer mattered. He showed me that he would take care of me and treat me in the way I’d always wanted. My doubts about if he was the “one” had vanished, and were replaced by a fate that had been sealed.

24

HOT FOR TEACHER

CITY

“YES, sir, how can I help you?” the older lady at the reception desk asked. She leaned forward and rested her head on her hands.

I gave her my devilish grin and a wink. “I’m here to see Ms. McCarthy, ma’am.”

“Oh, please, call me Kathy.” She batted her eyelashes. “You’re here to see Suzy?” She looked surprised, and her voice ended on a screechy high note. Her eyes no longer looked at my face, but traveled down my arms.

“Yes, I’m here to see Suzy, Kathy.” I arched my eyebrow as she soaked me in, undressing me with her eyes. She looked like a nice enough lady, but I didn’t like how she said Suzy’s name, and I certainly didn’t particularly enjoy the fantasy she must be having in her head. I cleared my throat, needing to pull her out of her lust-induced haze.

She blushed as she started fumbling with papers at her desk. She asked me for my identification and to sign the visitor’s log. The school day had ended, but a few students milled around the receptionist area. I could feel their eyes on me. I wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to be a total asshole.

Kathy gave me directions to Suzy’s classroom in the next building. I needed to make sure she was okay on her first day back to work since the attack. I was sure she’d had to explain the injuries to her face over and over again. People could be fucking merciless.

I checked the sign on the door, and it read “101—Ms. McCarthy’s Class.” The large classroom had tables set up in neat rows, with cabinets lining the opposite wall. There was no chalkboard in the room like there had been when I was a kid, but a dry-erase board hung on the wall. Math problems that made my fucking head spin were written on the shiny white surface.

I didn’t see anyone, but could hear voices talking from an attached room.

“I’m fine. Stop it,” Suzy said. I picked up my pace to find out what the fuck was going on.

Entering the small office space, I saw Suzy pinned against the wall with Derek cutting off her escape. She looked like she wanted to become one with the wall and couldn’t move farther away from his body. Her eyes grew wide as I reached for the prick and grabbed him by the shirt collar.

“What the fu—” he said, his eyes traveling to my face.

“The lady said stop. I think we’ve already had this conversation once before, dumbfuck.” We were nose to nose, and I’d knock the motherfucker out.

“Suzy didn’t mean it,” he snarled.

He sure had a pair of brass balls, but my fists were made of platinum. I fisted his pansy-ass dress shirt, pulling his body to mine. “She’s mine, you fucker, and when the lady says stop it she means stop and back the fuck up.”

“I should’ve had your ass arrested the first time you hit me. Hit me again and I’ll call school security.”

“Need someone else to fight your battles, sissy boy? You pick on girls, but can’t handle a man all on your own?”

Suzy had tears in her eyes as I looked at her over his head.

“Listen here, buddy, I don’t know who you fuck think you are, but Suzy and I have a thing. She’s not yours. Right, Suzy?”

She began to shake her head as her eyes grew wide. He turned his head to look at her, and I couldn’t hold back my fist any longer. I punched him right in the jaw and watched the spit and blood fly out of his mouth. Served the bastard right. I held him upright with my grip as he wobbled on shaky knees and his eyes watered.

If we weren’t in her office at a school, I’d beat the piss out of the motherfucker. He deserved to be taught a harsher lesson than one simple fist to the face, but I had to tamper down my anger for Suzy’s sake.

I let go of him with a shove and watched him stumble before catching himself on her desk. “I’ll have you arrested for this.” He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and glared at me.

“I’ll share the little tidbit with security. I’ll tell them how I walked in on you sexually harassing Ms. McCarthy in her office. I heard her to telling you stop. Who do you think she’s gonna back, asshole? You’ve touched her for the last time. Do it again and I’ll bury you.”

Suzy walked to my side and put her arm around me. “Derek, you mention a word and I’ll make sure they fire your ass. I’ll have no problem telling them about this and the other times.” Smiling at me, she squeezed my waist. “I have Joseph and Sophia to back me up. Sophia knows all about you and your bullshit.” Did she use two swear words in that speech? That’s my girl, I thought as I beamed with pride.

“You wouldn’t?” he asked, smoothing out his shirt, wiping the last bit of blood tricking down his chin.

“Try me, Derek,” she snarled, showing the slightest hint of teeth.

“I’d put my money on the blonde.” I smirked at the jackass as he stormed out of the room. “You okay, Suzy?” I asked, wrapping her in my arms.

She squeezed my waist and buried her face in my shirt. “Mm, you smell good.”

“Answer me, sugar. Are you okay?” I kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Derek’s an asshole. I don’t think he’ll be bothering me again.” She laughed into my chest.

“I don’t want you working with that dick anymore.”

“I think he almost peed his pants.”

“Promise me, Suzette? You need to go to the administration about him. He shouldn’t work here or be near you.”

She patted my stomach. “I love when you get all tough guy and use my full name.” She laughed, and I squeezed her ass hard enough to make her jump. “I promise, Joseph.”

“You seem to like it when I’m buried balls deep inside you, sugar, I don’t hear you laughing then,” I whispered in her ear. She shivered in my arms as the vibrations of my words touched her ears. “Why don’t we put your desk to good use?”

She smacked me in the chest, but I could see the twinkle in her eye. She thought about it for a second before she answered. “No way, mister. I’m not getting fired.”

“I thought maybe you went all bad girl on me, using all those curse words on Derek.” I ran my finger over her bruise, but she didn’t flinch.

“Two? I swore twice?” Her mouth hung open.

“You did, sugar. I’m proud of you.”

“You must be rubbing off on me.” She pulled away from my arms and smiled.

“Speaking of rubbin’.” I looked down, wiggled my eyebrows, and moved my hips.

“Absolutely not.” She looked away and started to move the papers on her desk.

I wrapped my arms around her and placed my face in her hair. “Whatcha gonna do, baby, give me a detention?” I asked. I couldn’t help but laugh. God, if she was my teacher in high school I would’ve been all over her. My wet dreams would’ve been filled with visions of Ms. McCarthy leaning over my desk to help me with my math problems. I’d pray that her blouse would just happen to fall open and give me a glimpse of her beautiful tits.

She smacked my hands. “You’re a naughty boy.”

“You have no idea, Ms. McCarthy.” I kissed down her neck, making my way to her shoulder before sinking my teeth into her delicate flesh. “You’ve smacked me twice, and I think I need to teach you a little lesson tonight.” Her breath caught, and I heard a small moan escape as I ground my dick into her ass.

“Whatcha got in mind, Mr. Gallo?”

“I’m going to make sure you know you’re mine.” I cupped her breasts, squeezing them, and ran my palms across her hard nipples. “I’m going to fuck you so damn hard my cock will be the only one you’ll ever think about. I’m leaving no inch untouched, no pore not kissed, and no hole unfilled.”

“Um.” She swallowed loud enough for me to hear. Perfect.

“Lost for words?”

“Not here,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

“My place, sugar. I don’t want anyone to hear you scream when you think you can’t come again, but I’ll make you.”

“Your punishment sounds so much better than detention.”

“It’s more like a retention program for at-risk little girls,” I said as she turned around with a smile on her face.

“You know how to win a girl’s heart.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me.

I smacked her ass and she bit down on my lip, but not hard enough to break the skin.

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she said.

“I’ll get ya back, sugar. Let’s get the fuck out of here or I’m tearing your clothes off right here.” I pinched her nipple and felt her sharp intake of breath against my lips.

I needed to get the hell out of the school and take her to my bed. I kissed her goodbye after walking her to her car. I walked to my bike on the opposite side of the parking lot after she drove away. It would be hard as fuck to ride with the raging hard-on in my pants—I needed the walk to cool the fuck off.

25

RIDING’ DIRTY

SUZY

RUINED. It was the only word that came to mind when I thought of Joseph Gallo, a.k.a. City McPierced Cock. He’d ruined me for any other man that could’ve had a place in my future. How could I go back to a boring anybody with a party pickle penis when I had Joey Sex God Gallo?

Joey made me scream in ecstasy; he’d been the first man I didn’t have to fake it with. His voice alone made my skin break out in goose bumps, his kiss made the world vanish, and his cock—well, it was just damn unique and felt fucking amazing.

The idea of punishment didn’t sound terrible coming out of his mouth. Anyone else and I would’ve run for the hills, but not City—he made my body feel like it was on fire. I wanted him to claim every inch of my body. What girl wouldn’t want all the pleasure that would involve? I’d be an idiot not to want it.

I studied his body as he drove ahead of me on his sexy-ass Harley. I could see him watching me at the stoplights, and I never wanted the man to have eyes for another woman. He was everything I wanted, but never thought to include in my life plan. His muscles moved underneath his shirt as he hugged the road and gripped the bike. My mind kept replacing my body with the bike as we made our way to his house.

He became an addiction. He didn’t ruin just my body, but he found a way to make himself a part of my life in a very short time. He invaded my dreams, and every thought I had involved him.

Watching him reminded me of the first time I saw him. I thought he would murder me on that country road. He looked mean and dangerous, but the only casualty would be my heart. Did I love him? It was a strong word to use in such a short amount of time. Could I go without him? Hell. No. Did I want him in my life? Damn straight. Love was a word I reserved for very few people in my life, and I wouldn’t mess this up, no matter how fantastic his cock moved and how hard he made me scream. Love would come someday if he didn’t fuck me to death first. Death by dick. Didn’t sound half bad.

By the time we pulled into his driveway, my body buzzed with anticipation. It had been less than twenty-four hours since City had been inside me, but this felt…different. Turning the car off, I stared at him as he climbed off the bike and removed his helmet. He approached my car—his movement was like a lion stalking its prey—and I felt my cheeks flush with excitement. He looked handsome. Uniquely perfect.

His beauty wasn’t only external. He had that nailed at first glance, but internally he was Prince Charming. Nobody had ever treated me like he did. He had just the right amount of caveman and Casanova to be destructive to a girl’s mind—particularly mine.

“Come on, sugar. If I have to wait any longer, I’ll fuck you right here in the driveway.”

Although his words held promise, I’d never had sex outdoors; I wasn’t ready to check that off my bucket list. Grabbing his hand, I followed him inside the small white farmhouse. I kicked off my shoes, and he grabbed me and pushed me against the wall.

His soft, wet lips crushed against mine as I gasped, and his tongue took that as an open invitation. “I can’t decide which part of your body to assault first.” His tongue slowly glided across my bottom lip. My heart pounded in my chest and he had to feel the rapid pace of the thump. “Do I start with this pretty little mouth?” He nipped my lip, causing a small moan to escape with the thought of my tongue wrapped around his cock. “Do I use this in your tight little cunt or your beautiful, tight ass?” He squeezed my ass, and I could feel his hardness against my stomach. I thought about all the ways he could and would take me, and a tingle ran down my spine.

“Perfect choice. Your mouth it is…to start.” His eyes crinkled from the smile on his face. Fuck, I didn’t make a choice.

“What? Wait.”

“Not your decision. Watching you suck that lip in your mouth makes my cock ache to feel your tongue tugging at my piercing. On your knees, sunshine.” The use of the nickname from our first meeting, when my world changed forever, made my insides warm.

Placing his hand on my shoulder, he pushed me on my knees, and I came face to face with his giant bulge. This time I knew what I would see, but it didn’t dull the excitement I felt. Reaching up to unzip his pants, I peered at his face. The grin playing on his lips and the twinkle in his eye made my core pulse. His shaft bobbed and brought my attention back to the task at hand: sucking his beautiful cock and bringing him to his knees.

I unzipped his pants and began the task of unleashing his hardness. I rarely felt in control when City had me naked, but I felt empowered kneeling before him. Springing free, the tip glistened with a drop of moisture. My mouth watered as I palmed his cock, squeezing it, feeling the heaviness and hardness of his silky-smooth erection in my hands. I licked the tip, capturing the wetness on my tongue before taking him fully in my mouth. I loved the feel of the piercing, and every time I brought the tip back to my lips, I’d run my tongue over the metal, giving it a light tug. His body quaked with each thrust and pull. His fingers tangled in my hair. He gripped it roughly, trying to control my movement and depth.

I ignored his grip, welcoming the pain as I controlled the depth and speed. “Fuck, sugar, your mouth feels amazing.” I squeezed his ass and felt a shudder take over his body. Pulsing my grip, I sucked harder and quickened my pace, and I squeezed my legs together, trying to relieve the ache. He moaned and twitched, and I could almost taste how close he was to losing it. I focused my effort on the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the underside, flicking the sensitive flesh and capturing the ring between my lips as I worked his length. “Fuck,” he moaned, and he increased the grip on my hair. “Stop, sugar.”

Screw that. I wouldn’t stop until his body shook, he screamed my name, and I milked him dry. I grazed his shaft with my teeth and he hissed. “Fuck.” I didn’t stop in my relentless pursuit of his release. I watch his face as I sucked and licked like a starved woman on a mission—his eyes were closed, head tipped back, and mouth open. I gripped his ass with both hands, digging my fingernails in his skin, taking him fully in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed and tried not to gag. I clamped down on his cock as a moan escaped his lips, driving me forward, seeking the moment he’d say my name.

The feel of his rock-hard ass beneath my fingers, flexing and twitching, made me crazy. I wanted him, wanted to feel him inside me, but I wouldn’t stop what I started. I felt in charge for once.

“Suzette,” he hissed as my mouth filled with his release.

When his body stopped shaking and his cock stopped pulsating, I released him. I grinned at him, with his wide eyes looking at me with adoration. Swallowing, I licked my lips and captured a small drop seeping from the tip. His eyes had a twinkle in them as he watched me.

“You don’t fight fair, sugar,” he said with a shaky voice as he kicked off his jeans.

“I didn’t see you stopping me,” I said, pushing off the floor. He reached out, grabbed my neck, and pulled me to him, as he crushed his lips to mine.

He felt soft and warm. I wrapped my arms around his neck and soaked in the feel of his hands gripping my waist. He pulled my legs around his waist and I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting the connection. We moved as one toward the bedroom where we’d begun weeks ago—my life hadn’t been the same.

He leaned over the bed, but my body stayed attached to him like Velcro. “It’s your turn to scream my name, sugar.” He unlatched my hands from his neck, placing them at my side. “Don’t move.” He smirked as he moved down my body, running his finger across the exposed skin of my stomach from the bunching of my shirt.

His touch felt like electricity, a tingling sensation spreading throughout my body as he traced around my belly button. “Elastic?” The word pulled me back into reality after I’d been lost in my dreamlike state.

“What?” I could barely think, let alone form a coherent sentence.

“You’re wearing pants with an elastic waistband.” He eyed them with curiosity. “Never met a girl that wore dress pants like these.” His fingers grabbed the waistband and released it, snapping it against my skin.

Oh, shit. I had my granny panties on too. I didn’t think I’d see him today. I just wanted to be comfortable, since I walked into a barrage of questions about the bruises and busted lip. I covered my eyes. “They’re comfortable,” I said as I swatted his hand.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he looked the material. “I’m sure. I think that’s why my mom wears them too.” His chest rumbled with a hearty laugh.

“Fuck off, City.” I chuckled, kicking him with my foot.

“Watch the goods, princess.” He grabbed my foot as I made another. “I have a fighter on my hands.” He gripped the bottom of my pants and gave them a hard yank, exposing my underwear. Fuck. “You’re full of surprises today, sugar,” he said.

“Hello… didn’t think I’d be seeing you today.”

“Guess not, based on your attire.” Smug bastard.

“This is who I am, City. I’m not a floozy and I don’t like a string up my ass all day while I teach.”

“Oh no, it’s sexy. The best part about you is that you’re not a floozy. Makes me feel special that you break out the sexy shit just for me.”

“Well, since it’s sexy, then I can stop with all the lingerie when I see you.” I giggled. I’d never do it, but if he wanted to pretend it was a turn-on…

“I don’t give a fuck what you wear, sugar, as long as you end up naked.”

I didn’t want to be the granny-panty-wearing girlfriend to the hot biker. I wouldn’t change what worked. I’d wear my sexy lacy shit when I saw him, but maybe, just maybe, I’d throw him for a loop with innocent little pink flowers every once in a while. “You going to shut up and fuck me or sit here yapping about clothing all night?” I snapped.

“Oooh, I got a feisty one on my hands tonight.” He moved his body as he covered mine before settling between my legs.

“You got a horny one that just sucked you off. She deserves a reward, and I can think of a million other things you can do with your lips than talk,” I said, running my tongue across his bottom lip.

Lust filled his eyes as he tugged at my lips with his teeth. He pulled his shirt over his head as he balanced on one arm. I’d never get tired of seeing his body.

His fingers wrapped around the side of my underwear before he ripped them from my body with one quick jerk. “Hey,” I yelled.

“I won’t be buying you new ones, so don’t ask.” He laughed before nestling between my legs and licking his lips. The need I felt for him never waned like I’d experienced with other men—it only intensified.

I closed my eyes as his mouth closed around me and his tongue flicked my clit. The heat of his mouth made me melt into the mattress. I gripped the sheets, needing something to hold on to keep my body firmly planted. He didn’t rush as he caressed and sucked every fold and inch of my core. I looked down, wanting to catch a glimpse of his beautiful face between my legs, and I was met with his blue eyes staring at me. His eyes didn’t leave mine as he brought my body to the point of release. My body glistened as every muscle tensed.

“Please,” I moaned. I was wound so tight; I sat at the tipping point and needed just a little bit more to tip me over the edge. I released the sheets and pinched my nipple between my fingers, rolling it back and forth. His eyes grew wide as he watched my fingers move against my skin.

The orgasm ripped through me, stopping my breath; I was paralyzed through the explosion of sensations. He moaned and lapped at my body as I screamed something that wasn’t audible to my ears. My heart thundered in my chest as I tried to catch my breath. I opened my eyes to a very happy looking man.

“Sexy as fuck, sugar. Watching you touch yourself, coming on my tongue, and babbling all kinds of incoherent shit—priceless. You made me hard again. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

City ripped open the condom wrapper before settling between my legs. The piercing nudged my insides, causing my body to tighten. I felt the pressure building inside my core as he pumped inside of me. He cradled my ass with his hand, and my world exploded around him—and he followed me over the edge.

Multiple orgasms had always been a myth, something I read about in books, but with him they were a reality. What had started as a journey of lust and carnal exploits had now turned into something more. I saw the man behind the muscles, tattoos, and piercings, and I didn’t want to let him go. I didn’t want to be Suzy Q, the goody two-shoes anymore. I wanted to be a woman that could let her hair down and be who I wanted instead of what everyone expected.

I wanted to do something that I’d enjoy, or at least I hoped I would. City would freak out if I told him what I had planned. I kept it a secret. I contacted Mikey to see if he’d help me pull it off.

26

SURPRISES

CITY

THERE WAS a chill in the air as I walked toward the doors of Inked. Fall rolled into winter in Florida, and that meant cold nights and days that felt like the Chicago of my childhood. It was a nice change, but I craved the warmth of summer on my bike instead of the coolness that stung my skin.

I pushed the door open to see an empty shop desk as the bell above the door chimed. Mikey wasn’t at his usual post to greet me, like he had been for more fucking mornings than I could count. I could hear a female voice and Mikey whispering from the piercing room in the back of the shop.

I put my ear to the door to listen to their conversation, but the voices grew quiet. I knocked. “Hey, can I come in?”

“In a minute,” Mikey yelled. “Kind of got my hands full.” I heard laughing as I walked away.

I checked my schedule for the day and listened to the voicemail messages. My first appointment called to cancel due to the flu, so I had some extra time. I kicked back on the couch and sent Suzy a message. Last night I’d left her exhausted in bed before making my way home. We’d been spending almost evening together and usually never slept apart. The poor thing, I had been exhausting her with middle-of-the-night sex. She’d asked me if it was okay to sleep apart for a night and I agreed, although not happily. I understood, but I didn’t fucking like it. The boner I woke up with this morning could’ve used some attention, but I did what needed to be done.

Me: Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?

I felt like a pussy-whipped fool, but for once I didn’t mind feeling that way.

Suzy: Not really. I missed you in bed.

I smiled, knowing she felt the same. Never in a million fucking years would I have thought that I’d find love again in my life. Joni’s sudden death had left me raw and reeling, not wanting to ever experience that hurt again. Suzy had changed that.

Me: Move in with me?

Did I really just type that shit? We’d been together only a couple of months, but I’d been with enough women in my life to know when it was right. I thought I’d get a quick response, but nothing. I was a fucking moron. I’d probably just scared her away.

The hinges on the door creaked as Mikey poked his head out. “Yo, bro. Wanna come see my handiwork?” He looked a little too happy for this time of morning.

“Who you working on off books?” There wasn’t a name on his schedule before ten.

“Special request. Get your lazy ass up and come look, you prick.” His head disappeared, and I could hear a hushed conversation.

“Mikey, I’ve seen every piercing out there.” I climbed off the couch to make my brother happy, because he’d harp on me like a bitch in heat for the rest of the day. Plus, he could kick my ass if I didn’t. “What’s so special about this one?” I asked as I walked in the room and stopped dead in my tracks.

What the fuck?

Sitting in the chair was Suzy, my Suzy, with her breast exposed and a small metal hoop through her nipple. I couldn’t breathe as I stood there staring with my mouth hanging open. Mikey looked excited and proud of himself, but I wanted to rip his fucking throat out—fighter or not.

Suzy had a sly grin on her face. “You like?” she asked.

Should I be happy or pissed? I blinked, but I couldn’t fucking respond. My brother had his hands all over my woman, even if it was for my benefit, and I wasn’t there to supervise.

“Earth to City,” Mikey said, and I swear to fucking Christ I wanted to knock his happy ass out of the chair.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She frowned at me, and her eyes began to glisten.

“Oh no, sugar. It’s beautiful. Sexy as fuck, actually.” I grabbed her chin and kissed her. “I’ll have fun tugging on it like you do mine. It feels amazing.”

“You scared the crap out of me. Are you mad?” she asked as I rested my forehead against hers and stared in her eyes.

“I’m not mad. A little pissed my brother had his paws on your gorgeous tits and that you didn’t let me be here for it.” I turned my head and gave my brother a scathing look.

“Hey, seen one breast, you’ve seen them all. It’s work, bro.”

Dickhead.

“I wanted to surprise you, Joey.”

“Well you fucking did that in spades, sugar.” I kissed her forehead and inspected the piercing closely. “Next time you touch my woman, I get to be here, brother. Got me?”

“Got ya. I swear to God it was all for you. Get that stick out of your ass and look how well it turned out. She has the perfect nipples for piercings.”

Did he just fucking say that to my face?

“Mikey, watch it.”

“I look at it as another body part to be decorated. Chill the fuck out. I know she’s yours.”

“As long as we’re clear on that fact.”

“Crystal.” He stood to leave.

“Mikey,” I said, stopping him in his tracks. “I wouldn’t trust her in anyone else’s hands. You did well.”

“Means a lot coming from you, Joe.” He slapped me on the shoulder and gave us a moment alone.

“You’re not feeling sick are you?” I asked. She looked flushed.

“Perfect. I thought it would hurt more than it did, though. I want to get the other one done eventually.”

“It takes a while to heal. You’re still riding the adrenaline high, but you’ll be sore for a long time. Thank fuck you still have one nipple I can touch.”

“Oh, just touch?” She smirked. I closed the door and locked it. I had time to kill, and Suzy sat before me with her breast exposed and a look of want in her eyes. “What are you doing?” Her eyes twinkled—she knew exactly what I had in mind.

“We’re going to have a chat about my text you didn’t respond to, and then I’m going to fuck you bent over that chair.”

I loved her surprised face. “What text?”

“Look at your phone.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for her to read it.

“You want to move in together?” Her eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open.

“Yes, sugar. We spend every night together, so why should you have to make a house payment when I have a place of my own?”

“Don’t take offense, City, but your place isn’t really my taste. The man cave, barren walls, and cottage feel. Can’t do it. You can move in with me, though.”

“Whatever makes you happy. As long as I have you in my bed and my bike in the garage, I’m a happy man.”

“So that’s it? We’re doing it?”

“Oh, we’re doing it. Undress, sugar. You’re not leaving here until I’ve erased any scent my brother left behind and my cock is satisfied.” I started to unzip my pants, and watched her carefully as she began to undress. Her nipple was red and slightly swollen from the piercing, and I’d have to remind myself not to touch it.

“Grip the headrest, ass out.” I stroked my cock as she kept turning her head to see what I was doing. I liked to make her wait.

When she turned back around, I smacked her ass, causing her to jump and yelp. “What was that for?”

“Next time, ask before you change your body forever. I won’t say no, but I’d just like to be clued the fuck in. I would’ve given that nipple a little extra attention before you took it off the market for a couple of months.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled and rested her forehead against the leather.

***

Packing up my house didn’t take long. We decided I would move my things during Thanksgiving break. I didn’t put my house up for sale. It was paid off and I didn’t see the need to get rid of it. I loved the land that the small farmhouse sat on. I bought it for that reason, and thought that someday I’d build my dream house on the property.

I moved my clothes into her spare room. She bought a small drawing table for me to use in the evenings, and I decorated the space with my work and my Harley memorabilia. I didn’t want to invade her space. Moving in together was a giant step, more of a leap of faith.

“Are you sure you don’t want to put your clothes in my closet?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe in a tiny purple silk nightie.

“No, sugar. My things are just fine in here.” I unpacked the last box of clothing, sliding them in the dresser drawer that she’d emptied for me. “You need your space, especially your walk-in closet.”

She sighed as she pushed her body away from the door and walked toward me. “Be patient with me.”

“Sugar, come here.” Holding out my hand to her, I pulled her in my lap. “Don’t do anything different because I’m here. I’m easy to live with. I don’t require too much. Your body is the only thing I’m impatient about. It’s mine.”

Her eyes twinkled and her smile widened. “It’s yours, City.”

“Whenever I want?” I raised my eyebrow, giving her a sly smile.

“Yes.” She giggled as I grabbed her by the waist, lifting her ass on the dresser. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what’s mine.” My hands drifted up her legs, spreading them, and raised the nightie to her abdomen.

The smile fell from her face and all giggles disappeared as I licked her clit. Her body relaxed, resting against the wall, as a small moan escaped her lips. My dick ached to be buried inside her, straining against my track pants. Her breath hitched as I dipped my tongue inside her. The sweetest nectar didn’t compare to the taste of Suzy, and I always wanted more.

Her legs tightened around my head, as her breathing grew shallow. Her thighs began to tremble underneath my grip. I sucked harder, flicking her clit with my tongue to drive her over the edge. Her hands fisted my hair as she pushed my face deeper, and I growled, relishing in the prickling sensation of her tugging my scalp.

“Oh, fuck. City,” she screamed as I sucked harder, drawing her entirely in my mouth. Her body twitched, and she shook under my tongue as she came on my face. I could never get enough of her. She gasped for air, swallowing with wide eyes as she looked down at me. The grip on my scalp lightened as she grew limp and her back collapsed against the wall. Her nightie had slipped off her shoulder, exposing her breast and the small silver hoop that I’d been dying to touch, but couldn’t.

Adjusting my dick as I stood, I kissed her lips, sucking the last bit of air she had into my mouth. “I’ll never get enough of you, sugar.” Our tongues tangled, her juice mixing with her saliva. She drove me wild. The feel of her small hands on my shoulders, gripping toughly, her nails digging into my flesh, made me rock fucking hard.

“More,” she whispered against my lips.

“Insatiable.” I pulled her body forward as I opened the top drawer, pulling out a condom.

I fucked her hard and fast. The wooden dresser slammed against the wall, thumping with each thrust. I prayed it didn’t collapse from the abuse. Her legs rested on my shoulders as I gripped her ankles, pumping inside her. Each thrust forced a moan from her lips. My balls tightened as her pussy clamped down on my shaft. Her eyes drifted closed as I tipped over the edge, spiraling into an orgasm so intense my legs almost gave out.

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Her eyes fluttered open, and her cheeks were redder from the second orgasm.

“That’s how to start a day.”

“Promise.” She smiled at me, running her hands down my bare chest.

“I’d fuck you all day, but we wouldn’t get much accomplished, sugar. Your pussy is fucking addictive.”

“Ha, your cock isn’t so bad either.”

“You know what your dirty mouth does to me.”

“No, we have too much to do, big boy.” She pushed against my chest before hopping off the dresser.

I grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back to me. “I’m not done with you yet, sugar. I own your ass,” I whispered in her ear.

“I love you,” she said, as her eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth.

“What did you say?” I tried not to smile, but the corner of my mouth twitched; I was unable to hold back my happiness. As her hand fell from her lips, I gathered her face in my hands to look her in the eyes.

“I love you, Joey.”

“Sugar, I love you more than I thought I could ever love another woman. I’ve wanted to say those words to you, but I didn’t want you to freak the fuck out.”

“I do, City. I love you for everything you are. You’re everything I wanted and the only one I think about. You’ve invaded my heart, and I can’t go another day without saying the words to you.”

“Say it again,” I said as I brushed my lips against her mouth.

“I love you.” The whisper of her words on my lips warmed my body and sent a shock through my system.

27

CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS

SUZY

THE TRANSITION of having someone live with me again had been easier than I thought. After Sophia and Kayden moved out, I didn’t think I would ever allow someone else to live with me. Not because they were such a problem, but because I didn’t think I’d find I could get along with. I know I’m not the easiest person in the world, and it’s a fact that I’d always accepted. We talked about moving into a bigger place, but I didn’t think we could afford it. My place was perfectly adequate.

It had only been a couple of weeks, but it had been wonderful. My house was small, but everything seemed to fit okay—with some adjustment on both our parts. I was thankful that it was Christmas break and that I’d get to spend the holidays with City and his family. My parents decided to go on a Caribbean cruise and leave me behind this year, and my sister had her fiancé’s family to be with. If it weren’t for City and the Gallo family, I’d be the third wheel at Sophia’s apartment.

City had spent the morning making a special breakfast for us before heading to his parents’ house. He told me that his mother always made panettone French toast every Christmas, and he wanted to treat me to his mother’s recipe. It had been the best Christmas morning since my childhood.

I still hadn’t mastered cooking, and stuck with the few dishes I could make edible. His mother had shown me some of her techniques and made notecards for me to follow, but it was useless. She would say, “No worries, love, you’ll get the hang of it. It just takes practice.” It was nice of her, but I knew that either you had it or you didn’t—and I clearly didn’t.

“Ready to go, sugar?” City asked from the bathroom doorway as I finished applying my lipstick. He looked handsome in a black pair of jeans and tight gray sweater. I wanted to unwrap him like a present.

“Just about, Joey. Do I look all right?” I turned to face him, and watched as his eyes traveled up the length of my body before he stared into my eyes.

“Always beautiful.” He grabbed my face and kissed my lips, and the familiar want filled my body. I didn’t know if I’d ever lose that feeling with him. I hoped I never did. “No time for what you’re thinking, sugar. We can’t be late today.”

“I can wait. I’m not a total fiend.” I laughed. “Did you load all the gifts?”

“Just waiting on you, sugar.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He held my hand and stroked it with his thumb as he drove. He looked happier than he did when we first met. He didn’t look sad back then, but the happiness didn’t radiate off him. It made me happy to know that I had put it there.

His parents’ driveway was packed with cars as we parked on the curb. “Looks like a full house.”

“Sugar, Italians do it big. My mom cooks for an army and invites all the neighbors to dinner.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I didn’t get presents for everyone, though.” A panicky feeling overcame me. I had met his family a couple of times and just started to feel comfortable, and now I’d have to sit in a room full of strangers.

“We do our gift opening later, after everyone leaves. Stop worrying—everyone loves you as much as I do.”

City opened the door to a house of people; it looked to be bursting at the seams. His mom came toward the door with a smile on her face. She had on reindeer antlers and a cheery Christmas sweater. She looked like a mom, and one that any child would’ve been lucky to have.

“Suzy, love, merry Christmas.” She enveloped me in a hug. City cleared his throat, and she chuckled in my ear and ignored him. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Thanks, Mrs. G. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. It smells amazing in here.”

She held my shoulders and looked at me. “I made all the classic Italian Christmas dishes. Got to fatten you up, my dear.” She rubbed my shoulder and stopped on the bone that sat below the skin.

“Not too much, Mrs. G, but I’ll have some of everything.”

“I knew I loved you, and yes, we do. Someday you’ll be carrying my grandbabies.” She smiled at me and made a face at Joey.

He choked and wrapped his arm around her to pull her off me. “Ma, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Just looking toward the future, Joseph. I want little ones running around. I’m too old not to have at least one. Try and make me happy for next Christmas, will you?”

“In time, Ma. Just give me a hug and we’ll talk about it another day.” He made eyes at me over her head, and I knew he was embarrassed, but I thought his mom was cute. Her words scared the piss out of me, but it was something nice to think about. I wanted him all to myself as long as possible.

“Come in and grab something to munch on before dinner’s ready. Joseph, go introduce her to everyone.”

“Yes, Ma.” He wasn’t always the most patient man, but that changed when he was around his mom. The reverence that was paid to a mom in an Italian family was something to watch. No one fucked with her or went against her word.

We walked around, and Joey introduced me to the family members that flew from Chicago for a warmer holiday, and the friends of the family. In my family, handshakes were the norm, but here hugs were expected. There was a warmth in the house and love could be felt in the chatter of the guests. I felt at home.

“Suzy,” Izzy yelled above the crowd, and I could see her hand waving in the air.

“I’m going to go say hi to your sister. I’ll be back,” I said as I reached up and kissed his cheek.

He smiled at me with loving blue eyes. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he said before turning his attention back to the neighbor. They were discussing football and the possible Super Bowl teams. Boring didn’t even begin to describe how I felt about the topic.

Izzy looked amazing, like always. Her long, flowing black hair framed her face perfectly. She had on a skintight dress that hugged her curves and showed off her beauty.

“Hey, Iz, it’s good to see you.”

“Merry Christmas, Suzy. I’m so happy you made it. How’s my brother doing?”

“They’re talking about football. Thank you for rescuing me.” We both laughed and looked over at the two men waving their hands as they spoke.

“Boys and their sports. Did you guys exchange your gifts yet?” The look on her face told me that she knew what City had bought me, and she couldn’t wait to get my take on the gift.

“Not yet. Do you know what it is?” I squinted at her. I never liked surprises, and maybe I could get it out of her.

“Oh, I know, and my lips are sealed, babe. City would be pissed if I spoiled his surprise.”

A surprise. That means it was something big, and not a frilly dress or casual gift like we’d agreed on. I had purchased clothes and a cross pendant for him, along with new leather riding gloves. He was impossible to buy for, but I threw in some ultra-sexy lingerie that would have to wait until tonight.

“I hate surprises,” I grumbled.

“This one you won’t, trust me.” She smiled and giggled, and my heart began to pound in my chest.

We hadn’t discussed marriage, and I didn’t know what I’d do if he bought me a ring and asked me in front of his family. Breathe—you can do it.

“Hey, big brother, merry Christmas.” She wrapped her arms around Joey and they whispered in each other’s ears.

The clinking of glass caused everyone to turn toward the kitchen. His mother stood, her antlers shaking with each stroke of her hand. A hush descended over the crowd as she began to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming today. It wouldn’t be Christmas without my family and friends. Dinner’s served—feel free to help yourself.”

“Your mother is really is adorable,” I said to Joey as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“Yeah, she loves the holidays. Anytime she can get people to eat, she’s a happy woman. Hungry?”

“I just ate a ton of appetizers, but I don’t want her upset so I’ll figure a way to eat more.”

“Better get used to it, sugar. Food’s the name of the game in this house,” he said as we moved toward the kitchen.

A line had already formed, and he stroked my back as we waited to grab a plate. Every granite countertop in the expansive kitchen had a dish of some sort filled with food. The woman should’ve opened a restaurant with her culinary skills. Every type of pasta dish, braciole, chicken Parmesan, and meatballs were waiting to be consumed.

We found an open space on the lanai and chatted with the table guests until we couldn’t eat any more. I kept eyeing the bottles of wine on the table—Gallo Family Vineyard. Gallo was a common Italian name, and I was sure out of pride they chose this label above the rest. I could hardly move. If they celebrated every holiday with this much food, my waistline would be in serious jeopardy.

The ladies cleaned the kitchen, and I was told under no circumstances was I allowed to help. His mom wanted me enjoy myself, since I was a guest, while she and her sisters did the dirty work. I dozed off on Joey’s shoulder during the chitchat and screaming at the football game on the television, but was woken up for the next round of eating—dessert.

The guests left a couple of hours later, after coffee was served and the football game ended. After the last person walked out, his mother yelled from the foyer, “Who’s ready for gifts?”

“Anthony, get your ass in here,” Izzy yelled from the floor.

His mother sat down next to the tree and waited for everyone to take a seat. “I love you all, but I miss Thomas. I wish he could’ve been here with us this year.” The smile on her face faded as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I knew little of Thomas, and he was the only sibling I hadn’t met. “He called this morning and spoke to your father and I. He promises he’ll be here next year.” She cleared her throat. “I’m thankful that Suzy could join us.”

She pulled a gift from under the tree and held it out to me. “For you,” she said.

I placed it on my lap and looked around, noticing that all eyes were on me. “What?”

“We all take turns, sugar.” City patted my leg.

“Oh, sorry. My family, it’s more like a free-for-all. Not used to this, but I’ll learn.”

It took hours to open gifts. They ranged in all sizes and shapes. I watched the family in front of me with joy. I’d never experienced something as loving as the Gallo family Christmas.

“I love everything you got me, sugar. I’ll use it all.” He kissed my cheek.

I smiled at him and whispered in his ear. “Wait until you see your last gift, but it’s at home—for your eyes only.” I bit his earlobe and was rewarded with a deep kiss.

“Hey, I know I want grandbabies, but not right here on the couch, please. There’s one more gift under the tree, and it’s for Suzy.” His mother beamed as she handed the last present to me.

The box was small, but not a ring box. City leaned back and stared at me to gauge my reaction. I looked around as I undid the ribbon It’s a horrible feeling to be the one left out—to be the surprised and not the one doing the surprising.

Tucked inside was a small business card. I read it, but didn’t know what it meant. “You gave me a business card?” I asked, confused.

“No, sugar. Read it. Turn it over.”

Mrs. Perkins

Florida Real Estate Specialist

I flipped the card over and recognized Joey’s handwriting.

Something to call “ours”

Merry Christmas, sugar

“I don’t understand,” I mumbled as I turned the card over again.

Joey grabbed my hand as he spoke. “I want to buy a house for us. I want you to pick out your dream home, or we can build on my land.”

“Joey, we can’t afford that, but it’s a nice thought.” I knew his gesture was sincere, even if it were a fairytale.

His mother started to giggle, and the entire family laughed. I didn’t get the joke. “Tell her, Joseph,” his mother said as she sat down next to his father.

“Suzy, we can afford it. I can afford it.”

“How?” I felt like an idiot.

“Jesus Christ, son. Suzy, our family owns a vineyard in Italy. We’ve owned it for generations. Joseph doesn’t flaunt his wealth, but he has the ability to buy five homes.”

I looked from his father to Joey, who sat there with a grin. “Is he telling the truth?”

“Yes, sugar. We all own a portion of the vineyard. We run the tattoo shop because we don’t want to sit on our ass all day. We wanted something that was entirely ours and separate from what we inherited.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I felt awkward having this discussion in front of his family, but I figured they knew his reasons.

He stroked my face. “I like my little farmhouse. It was enough for me. I also don’t like people to know my business. Too many people want things when they know you have money. Sugar, you have to understand. I thought if I ever—and I didn’t think I would—found someone that I loved, I had to know they loved me for me and not my money.”

“I do love you for you, Joey.” The words came out with ease, and even though I knew he’d lied to me for months, I could understand why. “I’m happy in my home, though. No need to buy another.”

“Exactly—‘your home,’ sugar, not ours. I want something that we pick out together with room to grow. We’re cramped, but happy. Anything you want is yours. All I ask is for a big garage for my motorcycles and a space for the guys to hang out.”

His mom clapped her hands. “Get lots of bedrooms too. I want an army of grandbabies.” Even though the idea of a horde of children made my body break out into a blotchy rash, a big house would be wise.

“Not helping, Ma.”

Her laughter filled the room. “Sorry, a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“So what do you say, sugar? Can we buy a home for us? It can be a fresh start, the beginning of an amazing journey. We’ll take our time until we find the perfect place. I love you, Suzy McCarthy, and this is what I want for us.”

I didn’t really have anything to think about. My last wall had crumbled. Everything I had on my impossible checklist had come true, and Joey was the man I’d always wanted. His family waited for my reply, and the air felt heavy. “Yes, Joey. I’d love to find our home and look to the future. I love you too.”

His kiss stole my breath, as it always did. I thought back to the words Sophia told me not long ago. Butterflies—I still felt butterflies every time I saw him. The nervous energy never left my body, and I felt the electricity when we touched. When it’s right, you know it. He was the one. Mine.

The End…

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1.17.17

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ENEMIES TO LOVERS ROMANCE

Agent: Kennedy Barnes

Target: Phoenix ‘Nix’ Ash

Crimes: Hacker and Heartbreaker

Mission: Get Close and Survive

KENNEDY

While smoothing my sleek, chin-length bob in the mirror, I briefly consider getting my long black hair permanently colored this shade.

“I look kick-ass with bright blue hair,” I murmur.

My roommate Olivia scoffs as she walks into our tiny bathroom.

“You look kick-ass with any color hair, darling,” she says, struggling to pull down her tight black leather pants.

“Did you hit the chocolate a little hard in Switzerland?” I ask with a smirk.

“Fuck no.” She shimmies to get the pants lowered and then sits down to pee. “These pants are just plastered to my skin. I’ve been wearing them for, like, forty hours now.”

“Problems with your op?”

She sighs heavily. “You might say that. But I got what I needed.”

“Good.”

“Do we have any food? I haven’t eaten in forever, unless that shitty little bag of peanuts on the plane counts.”

“There’s leftover Chinese takeout from last night.”

“Sweet. I’m inhaling it after I take a shower.”

I walk into our living room and adjust my short black skirt so the lacy tops of my stockings show. My dark top has three-quarter sleeves, but it’s tight and low-cut, revealing the roundness of my breasts.

“Heels or hooker boots?” I call out to Olivia.

She walks into the living room and looks me over. “Boots.”

As I sit down and slide my black leather boots on, she’s kicking hers off.

“Holy shit, it feels good to get those off,” she says, rubbing the sole of one foot. “And what the hell is up with us flying coach, anyway? We’re out there risking our asses for intelligence information, the least our government can do is fly us first class so we can eat a decent meal.”

“You had a really shitty trip, didn’t you?”

She groans. “The shittiest. I got busted by a security guard, and he kicked my fucking ovaries into my throat.”

“You’ll have to catch me up later,” I say, grabbing my bag. “I’ve got to hit the office.”

“Good luck,” Olivia says, pulling the pins out of her dark blond hair.

The two of us have only known each other since we were paired up at the academy a year ago, but it feels like longer. The training to become a field agent for Greenlight, a black ops intelligence agency, brought us together quickly. We learned how to fight, use weapons, speak several languages passably, and covertly surveil people.

It beats the hell out of the boring desk job I’d probably have if I hadn’t been recruited by Greenlight. I have my brother-in-law Jude to thank for that. He recommended me for this job through his connections on the Senate intelligence committee. Only Jude and my sister Reagan know what I really do for a living. The rest of my family and friends think I work as a personal assistant to a demanding and very private executive. It’s how I explain working crazy hours and not being able to talk about what I do.

As soon as I step onto the sidewalk in front of our SoHo loft, a woman glances my way. Drawing attention as an undercover agent seems counterintuitive, but I learned in the academy that the best way to hide is to stand out.

And that, I’m damn good at.

Tonight, I’m meeting my handler, Rae, and then going to the Loft, a trendy nightclub with a massive underground operation. When I say underground, I’m talking in the basement of the club. Down there, high-dollar drug deals are made, illegal weapons are bought and sold, and more money is wagered in nightly poker games than most people earn in a year.

I got down there once with Alex Hassan, an arms dealer who loves coke and threesomes. Motherfucker bit down on my lip ring while he was kissing me and almost ripped it out.

I hail a cab, and as I’m waiting, a couple frat-boy types in shorts and T-shirts walk past.

“Hey, doll, you all alone tonight?” one of them asks me.

“Fuck off.”

“Bitch,” he mutters.

“Asshole,” I say loudly, turning to meet his gaze.

A cab pulls up just then, and I step in, giving the driver the address of a downtown bar.

Why do men always assume women are looking for a man? I can’t have an actual relationship because I can’t tell anyone about my work. But I knew that when I accepted this job, and I’m good with it. Hell, I’m only twenty-three. And I don’t think I’m meant to be tamed anyway.

The city is lighting up for the night. I love living in a place where anything can—and does—happen. I was lucky to score New York City as my Greenlight location.

“Right here okay?” the cab driver asks me as he pulls into a parking place near the bar.

“Sure.” I pass him a twenty and slide out of the car.

I walk down the alley next to the bar and find Rae leaning against a brick wall, hidden from sight by a dumpster. There’s no one around, but we still have to be on alert.

“I like the hair,” she says, almost smiling.

“Thanks.”

“There’s buzz about a big weapons deal going down soon. Report back to me immediately if you hear anything.”

“Got it.”

“Have you heard from Alex?”

I shrug. “He texted me at two a.m. the other night. Total booty call. I didn’t respond.”

“Good. He’s all about the chase.”

I glance over at her. “Did you ever…”

With a low, single note of laughter, Rae shakes her head. “No, but I knew his older brother. Be careful with him. The Hassans are a ruthless bunch.”

I nod, my heart pounding. Rae has been my handler the whole six months I’ve been on the job, and she’s never warned me about anyone. She’s not the nurturing type. At nearly six feet tall, she’s lean, fit, and imposingly beautiful. Her long blond hair is always back in a ponytail, and her green eyes are sharp and knowing.

Rae was Greenlight’s top agent until two years ago. Someone at the office told me she was kicking ass and taking names on every assignment when she was injured while off duty. A gunman opened fire at a bank, killing seven people and injuring many more before shooting himself. Rae was shot in the leg and was left with a permanent limp, leaving her unable to work in the field.

“Have you ever heard the name Phoenix?” she asks me.

“Phoenix?” I consider before shaking my head. “No.”

“He’s a cyberthief, but on a massive scale. We think he stole more than fifty million dollars in Europe over the past year. There’s chatter that he’s here now.”

“What does he look like?”

“H-A-F.”

“H-A-F?”

“Hot as fuck, but he covers his tracks well. Report back on anything you hear about large sums of money being stolen or laundered.”

“I will.”

“There’s another agent working the Loft tonight, too. Signal if you need help.”

I furrow my brow. “Why? Am I not doing a good enough job?”

“Too much happens there for just one agent, Goaltender.”

Rae only uses my radio call sign, never my real name. She glances up and down the alley and then meets my eyes in the near darkness.

“I’ll be in touch.”

That’s my signal to split. She always wants me to leave our meets first so she can see if anyone’s tailing me. Limp or not, Rae isn’t someone I’d ever mess with. She’s Ukrainian and steelier than any man I know.

I leave the alley and walk a block before hailing a cab to take me to the Loft. It’s about three miles away, and when I get there, I see a line of waiting people that winds down the block.

Putting on my most confident expression, I walk up to the tall, broad man next to the club’s front entrance.

“Eva,” he says with a nod.

“Hey, Paul.”

He opens the rope blocking the entrance to let me through, and a few people in line groan or mutter with disgust.

I come to the Loft at least a couple nights a week, and everyone here knows me as “Eva.” I’ve never had to provide further details like a last name or background, because no one here cares.

My first stop is always the bar. I order a lemon martini, scanning the crowd as I take my first tart sip. I wonder who the other Greenlight agent is here. I won’t find out unless I need backup, so I actually hope it remains a secret. But still, I’m intrigued that someone else in the club is doing the same work I am, likely nursing a drink all night the same way I do.

Does their heart still race with excitement every time they walk in here the way mine does? I knew when I signed on that this work would be exciting. The rush is like nothing I’ve ever felt, but it comes with a heavy sense of responsibility.

Lives depend on the intelligence I gather. If I miss something—or worse, get something wrong—crimes that could have been prevented may happen. People could get hurt.

And then there’s the fact that my own ass is in danger 24/7. The type of people who frequent the basement of the Loft won’t lose any sleep over shooting me in the head if they think something is off.

And who’d miss me, the illegitimate daughter of a disgraced former senator? My parents would, sure, but I’m not like Reagan and Abby. My father’s legitimate daughters are shining stars. I’ve always felt like the misfit star, on the verge of fizzling out and falling to the ground.

“Eva.”

The deep voice behind me sends a shiver down my spine. It’s Alex Hassan, and though I was expecting him to seek me out if he was here, I’m surprised he found me so quickly.

“Alex,” I say, a smile playing on my lips.

“You ignored me the other night.”

I shrug. “I’m no one’s booty call.”

Alex’s dark eyes darken further as he laughs. “Come,” he says, taking my hand.

I’m cool on the outside, but my pulse is racing wildly. Alex doesn’t dance. Actually, he never spends any time on the club’s main level. And he’s leading me past the dance floor, through a seating area, and down a hall that leads to the kitchen.

Good. The kitchen is the entrance to the basement. Alex pushes the kitchen doors open, not even looking at the club staff at work in there.

There are about twice as many people as needed for kitchen work in here, and I suspect it’s because half of them are for security.

No one blinks as Alex keys in a code and the doors to an elevator slide open. He puts a palm on my ass, encouraging me to step on first.

I do, and then he gets on and keys in another set of numbers on a panel on the wall. As the elevator moves down, his dark gaze slides up and down my body.

“I don’t like being ignored,” he says.

“I don’t like being called at two a.m.”

He arches a brow. “I’ll call earlier next time.”

“Then I won’t ignore you.”

I know Alex’s type. He’s powerful, used to everything and everyone just falling into his lap. The way to really get in with him is to challenge him. My nonchalant attitude toward him also keeps me out of his bed, which is good. If I have to sleep with him, I will, but I don’t want to.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open, I take a slow, calming breath. I have to take in as many details as I can down here and listen to as many conversations as possible, all while appearing to be Alex’s vapid, disinterested arm candy.

I take a small sip of my martini, wishing I could down the entire thing. Alcohol would help my nerves right now. But I have to stay sharp.

The guns on the hips of the two stoic men on either side of the door we’re about to walk through remind me how high the stakes are down here. To keep my cover, I actually have to be Eva.

Alex puts a hand on the door handle and then pauses, looking at me.

“Good girls aren’t allowed in here,” he says to me, his gaze hard and penetrating.

I hum a note of amusement low in my throat. “I don’t know any of those, do you?”

PHOENIX

“Come on, Nix. Just do this favor for me once.”

Carlito’s pitiful when he begs, but it’s not enough to sway me. Even though I’ve known him for two years, I still don’t trust him. “It’s too risky.”

Carlito has been on the scene for years, well established by the time I found my way into the Loft. He’s been known to deal in stolen goods, but his area of expertise usually involves massive caches of weapons. Not just guns, the big stuff too—AKs, grenade launchers, and even anti-aircraft shit. I’ve steered clear of him whenever possible. Even criminals like me have lines we don’t like to cross, and Carlito typically straddles the imaginary boundary I laid down.

“Not for a pro like you,” he argues, and I’m becoming irritated. “It’s a simple bank transaction.” His thick Spanish accent, slicked-back brown hair, and off-white leisure suit straight out of an old-school gangster film make him stick out like a sore thumb.

“There’s no such thing as simple, Carlito. Not in our world.” I turn my drink in my hands, making patterns against the cold steel table, bored with the conversation. “It’s a mistake too many people make.”

“I never knew you were a pussy, Nix.” When he says pussy, it comes out more like puh-say.

“Think what you want. Why don’t you go ask Grim? He’s been looking for some extra cash.”

“I already did.” He licks his two middle fingers and runs them over his bushy black eyebrows and scans the room. “I think I’ll go ask Freckles. She’s always up for a challenge.”

My eyes follow his, sweeping through the crowd to find Freckles. “I thought you said it was easy.”

“For you, it would be a piece of cake, but for anyone else…” His voice trails off as he slides out of the booth. “Catch ya later, Nix. Thanks for nothin’.”

I wave him off, but I keep my eyes on him as he makes his way across the room. He’s schmoozing the crowd, shaking hands and drawing attention to himself. It’s classic Carlito. Most people here want to lie low, but not him. He wants to be known. Wants people to like him. Every time I see him walking free, I’m amazed his ass isn’t behind bars from his need to be seen.

He gives a quick nod to Icepick, a man who has a thirst for blood that’d rival any vampire, and keeps moving. Smart move. Icepick isn’t the man for his job unless it involves making someone disappear, which it doesn’t.

When he stops in front of Freckles’s table and says a few words, he glances in my direction and she turns to look at me. I wink, and she gives me a wicked smile before turning back to Carlito. Freckles and I collaborated a few times, but she has no problem with arms dealers or anything that may negatively impact anyone but her. She’s all about the mighty dollar and could give a fuck about anything else.

She’s sizing him up and twirling her shoulder-length curly hair around her index finger as he chatters on, waving his hands wildly when he speaks.

Her nickname is cute, but her skills are anything but. She’s a notorious thief, but she has genius computer skills and could help him out if he earned her trust. Motioning with her hand to the seat next to her, she gives Carlito a small smile, signaling she will at least hear his proposal.

Leaning back in the booth, I place an arm across the back and lift the Louis XIII Cognac to my lips, sipping it slowly and savoring every drop. I’m still watching them when Wolf steps into my line of sight. “Been a while since I’ve seen you, buddy. Can I sit?”

I nod. Wolf’s been missing for over a month, and I assumed he was arrested and turned. Normally, I wouldn’t be suspicious if someone from the Loft disappeared, but Wolf, he was too close to me to be missing without as much as a text message. “Where ya been?”

“Here and there.” He gives me a big, toothy grin and waves over the waitress. “You know how it is.” His head bobs when he shrugs.

“I do,” I tell him because I want to believe he was just out of reach, but there’s something off about his behavior tonight.

I’ve known Wolf for three years. It’s a small chunk of time, but in our world, it’s a lifetime. People come and go, disappearing because of death or prison, and time is usually counted in weeks instead of years. The best in our industry find ways to stay under the radar, and much like me, Wolf has found a way. At least, I thought so until he vanished without a trace.

There’s a faint line of sweat dotting his brow, and he wipes it away. “So what’s new? Anything you’re working on?”

“Nothing. I’m taking a break.” I’m not convinced that he’s not wearing a wire or working for the Feds, so I give him nothing. “How about you?”

“Fuckin’ Hassan has me working on this bullshit overseas.”

Alex Hassan never works under the radar. Never. But he has enough money in his pocket to pay off politicians in the US and the Middle East to make his ass almost untouchable. He’s been dealing arms to rebel armies for years and has connections that most people can’t replicate.

“Is that where you’ve been?”

“Yeah.” He nods and huffs out a breath, puffing his cheeks out like a blowfish. “It sucks over there. I still have sand stuck in places I didn’t even know existed.”

I breathe a little easier knowing he was on assignment and not with the Feds. It’s something I can check easily with a simple conversation. Hassan’s here every night when he’s in town, without fail with some new piece of ass on his arm. The bastard gets laid more than Hugh Hefner. He’s the Middle East criminal version of the guy—without the Playboy mansion and the Grotto.

“I could’ve told you it’s a shithole over there.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He waves me off as the waitress approaches. Wolf smiles up at her, his broad grin growing larger as he ogles her breasts. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Popcorn?”

“Hey, stranger. I thought you were gone forever. Thought the Feds may have finally nabbed your ass.” She laughs softly, her dark eyes sparkling when she tips her head back and the overhead lighting falls upon her face.

“I’m too good for that.”

One thing I know is that no one is too good for that. One mistake and everything can be over. It’s a fact that we all live with every day. It’s that simple and something I never forget. We don’t walk through life like most people; we skate the law, living on the fringe and embracing the freedom that comes with it. Each of us knows that it can all end in an instant.

“What can I get you, Wolfy baby?” she asks, running her hand through his hair.

He slides his hand up her fishnet-covered thigh. “How about a piece of you?” he replies and licks his lips.

She slaps his hand away playfully and giggles. “Maybe another time.”

“Just grab me a vodka on the rocks, doll.”

She gives Wolf a small wink and turns her attention to me. “You want another, Nix?”

“Sure. I’ll take another.”

After a quick nod, she saunters away, swaying her hips wildly, giving him a show. “She’s such a tease,” he mutters, unable to look away from her performance. “It’s nice to see barely dressed American women. I don’t know how the guys over there do it. I saw tons of eyes over there, but nothing else. The nuns showed more shit when I was in school.”

I’m a little stunned that he had a solid upbringing. He doesn’t have the manners or morals of a kid born with a silver spoon. “You went to Catholic school?”

“Right before my sophomore year, I was expelled from public school. My parents thought private school would give me the focus to make something of myself.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“Glad to see that worked out.”

“Wolf,” says a familiar voice.

My eyes drift over the rim of my Cognac and catch a glimpse of black leather knee-high boots and jet-black stockings with a hint of lace showing below her extra short shirt. Standing with his latest conquest and soon to be piece of trash at his side is Hassan.

“Hassan,” Wolf greets him. “Care to sit?”

“Thank you.” He holds up his hand, placing the woman next to Wolf before sliding into the booth next to me. “Nix.” He extends his hand across the table, waiting for me to extend my own.

He’s one of my least favorite people in the place, well, besides Carlito. He never welches on a deal, but there’s something about him that has always irked me. Maybe it’s the way he uses people, especially women, and then throws them away. Even with my feelings for him, I still shake his hand and finally let my gaze wander across the table to his guest.

Hassan notices and grins. “Gentlemen, this is Eva.”

“Ma’am.” I tip my head but say nothing more. Hassan is known for being with beautiful women, but there’s something about Eva that makes her stand out from the others.

“Ah, Eva. I heard a lot about you.” Wolf’s eyes roam her like a hungry lion stalking his latest victim. But we all know he won’t touch Hassan’s property, not if he wants to keep his hands or his dick.

“It’s great to meet you too.” The silver ring in her bottom lip twinkles when her lips move, and I can’t look away. “I’dheard you were out of the country.”

I’m drawn to her mouth, the way her lips move when she speaks and how the light dances off the hoop. Her tongue peeks out and flicks at the ring, causing my cock to twitch.

“Yes. Hassan over here—” Wolf lifts his chin toward him and grimaces “—had me in the sand dunes of Saudi Arabia.”

“You loved it there. Don’t let him fool you, Eva.”

“Bullshit,” Wolf coughs the words into his hand, and Eva laughs at their banter.

Popcorn places our drinks on the table and gives Hassan a shitty look, dragging her eyes to Eva and snarling. But Eva and Hassan seem to be oblivious to Popcorn’s disdain.

Is there a woman in this place Hassan hasn’t conquered and pissed off? How long before one of them gets jealous enough to turn him in to the cops? Although they’ve all been vetted and deemed trustworthy, everyone has a breaking point.

Hassan turns and invades my personal space. “I was hoping to talk to you about—”

“Hassan—” I cut him off because I don’t want the next line spoken in mixed company. “If you want to speak with me, it’ll be in private.” We’ve been over this before, but he doesn’t seem to care whom he speaks in front of.

I refuse to discuss anything in front of a stranger, even a beautiful one. Eva is a stranger. Even speaking in front of Wolf has me on edge. When I discuss business, I want no witnesses but the parties involved, and that doesn’t include Eva or Wolf.

“Eva, my love. Can you go get us some drinks?” Hassan asks, but it’s not a question.

She glances between the two of us, her eyes flashing with anger before it quickly vanishes. “Sure. The usual?” She slides out of the booth and stands near the edge of the table with her fingertips almost touching his.

There’s a small pang of jealousy that’s settled in my belly. I chose this life, but sometimes I wish I had someone to share it with. Eva isn’t that to Hassan. The only thing he wants to share is her pussy, and once he’s had his fill, he’ll trade her in for someone new.

“Please.” He gently grabs her well-manicured hand and brings it to his lips. He closes his eyes, inhaling her skin before placing the lightest kiss against her delicate flesh.

My eyes are trained on hers, because she’s looking at me and not him. Her electric blue bangs hang over her hard, charcoal eyes. “Anything you want, Hassan,” she says with her eyes on me and only me. Hassan’s too lost in the feel of her skin to notice she’s not paying him any attention.

For a moment, I’m transfixed by the way her lips move when she speaks and the sparkle of the piercing in her lush, glossy red lip. What a waste that she’s with a guy like Hassan, but it seems even he knows there’s something special about this one. He clings to her in a way that makes his claim unmistakable.

Finally, he releases her hand and gives her a small pat on the ass, dismissing her. “We’ll just be a minute.” She nods, finally making eye contact with him before walking toward the bar and leaving us alone.

“So I wanted to talk to you about…” Hassan says, and I don’t hear the next part of the statement because Eva looks back as she leans over the bar, giving me the perfect view of her upper thighs and smiling at me over her shoulder.

As Kyle, the bartender, speaks to her, she leans over farther and sticks out her ass. Fucking cock tease. Just a few more inches and I’d see more than just the lace on the tops of her stockings.

“What do you think?” Wolf asks, pulling me back into the conversation.

I drag my eyes back to the table to the two miserable fucks in front of me. “Repeat it one more time.”

Hassan taps his gold Dunhill lighter against the table out of irritation. “I know Eva’s beautiful, Nix, but she’s a cock tease.” Lifting a cigar from his pocket, he places it under his nose and smells it much the same way he did Eva’s hand. “She’s a beautiful possession, just like this cigar. To be used for my pleasure and only for a short while. What I’m trying to talk to you about can change your life more than any beautiful pussy ever can, so pay attention this time.”

“She’s not your type, Hassan,” I tell him, being blunter with him about his conquests than I usually am.

“She’s making me work way too hard for it. You know I always want things I can’t have.”

“Don’t we all,” I mumble, stealing another glance in Eva’s direction and taking in her perfect hourglass figure balancing on the highest black boots I’ve ever had the pleasure to see.

Hassan’s arm nudges mine. “I won’t repeat it again.”

“I’m a busy man, let’s hear it.” I give Hassan my complete attention.

“I’m moving product from Saudi Arabia to a Afghanistan. I need someone to transfer the money and make it untraceable. You game?”

I’m not. We haven’t done a deal in years. Working with Hassan always sends a chill through my bones. Anything dealing with weapons and the Middle East is on my short list of shit I won’t do. No amount of money is worth the national security of the country that has given me such an amazing life. I will not help terrorists. “Why don’t you use the same guy you always do?”

“It’s too big for him to handle, and I want someone different. He’s too involved in my business to handle this transaction. Wolf dropped your name, and I thought I’d come to you first.”

My eyes narrow on Wolf. Friends or not, criminals are criminals and will stab each other right through the back to save their own ass. “I don’t know, Hassan.” I shake my head and drag my snifter of Louis in front of me. “I’m pretty booked.”

“It’s ten million dollars for you. I’m sure you could find time for that type of cash,” Wolf adds.

“Even for double that amount, I couldn’t find the time.”

Hassan studies me as he lights his cigar, dragging out a few puffs, creating a small cloud in front of me. “Fine.” He leans back and stares at me with an unreadable face. “I’ll give you twenty-five million, but not a penny more.”

I wave away the smoke and the offer. “Can’t do it.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Nix. I thought you’d be interested.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in getting involved in an arms deal in the Middle East.”

“They’re going to a worthy cause.” The cigar is hanging between his teeth, and his words come out garbled. “That I can assure you.”

“I appreciate the assurance, but my answer is still no.” Wrapping my lips around the glass, I let the Cognac drift across my tongue before sliding down my throat. I’m done with Alex Hassan and his offer, and he knows it, sliding out of the booth and pulling on the cuffs of his white dress shirt nonchalantly.

“If you change your mind, I’m going to wait twenty-four hours to ask anyone else.” He wanders away toward Eva before I can tell him not to waste the time.

“You’re a fucking fool,” Wolf says and rests his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands. “That’s a lot of money to turn down based on some bullshit moral code.”

I pin him with my glare and speak with my teeth clenched together. “I’m not getting involved in terrorist shit, Wolf. You fuckin’ know it. Don’t ever mention my name around anything that has to do with it again, especially to him. Got me?”

“Yeah, man. But he’s not a bad guy.”

“We’re all bad guys. Remember that.” I glance around the Loft, taking in our surroundings. There isn’t an honest person here, only people out for themselves and a mountain of cash.

He downs the glass of vodka before slamming the empty tumbler on the table. “I’m out. I have a job to do tonight. You take care, Nix. Let me know when you pull your head out of your ass.” He’s on his feet and heading toward Hassan and Eva before I can reply.

Eva’s eyes meet mine from Hassan’s side and darken. Her tongue darts out, toying with the metal around her lip that captures my attention. All I can think of is how it would feel against my cock as I tangle my fingers in her hair, bumping the back of her throat with each thrust and listening to her moan like a bitch in heat.

But unlike Hassan, I don’t welcome strangers into my bed without knowing their full background. I’m not willing to spend the rest of my life in jail for some head, no matter how spectacular.

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He leaned in, brushing the hair away from my shoulder. “If you keep that shit up, I’m going to find another way to occupy your mouth.”

I’d like to say it was the alcohol that caused him to have that effect on me, but I’d be lying. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck, bringing his lips within centimeters of mine. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me. Let’s not play games here, Mia.” He searched my eyes.

I could feel his warm breath against my lips, and my heart pounded in my chest faster than the rhythm of the music. Looking into his eyes without blinking, I melted against him. “Who said I’m playing, Michael.”

I wanted him to kiss me.

He inched close, eyes locked with mine, as I placed my hand against his chest. The rapid tattoo of his heart thumped against my palm, matching the beat of mine.

Leaning forward, I closed my eyes and held my breath. Butterflies filled my stomach and my legs trembled. The warmth of his lips sent shivers down my body.

The noise around us disappeared as he kissed me. Nothing else seemed to exist except him and me.

As I tipped my head back, his grip on the back of my neck increased as he pulled me against his rock-hard chest. The feel of him against me was amazing as he kissed me perfectly. Not too much lip, a dash of tongue as he held me against him. I moaned into his mouth as he bit my bottom lip. I sighed against his mouth, melting into his touch—I wanted to be closer to him.

His tongue soothed the spot that he’d just sunk his teeth into, and my sex convulsed from the tenderness.

We became one, lost in each other.

Pulling away, he whispered, “Damn.” He rubbed his knuckles against my collarbone, before releasing his grip on my neck.

Instantly I missed the warmth of his palm. My body swayed, as I stood there in a daze, blinking as I tried to regain my ability to think. Dumbfounded and in a fog from his kiss, I stood there like an idiot, with a grin on my face.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In my other life, I used to mold the minds of America’s youth as a high school history teacher. I hold a Bachelor’s degree in History and a Master’s in Instructional Education. I’m now a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, and coffee fiend.

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Copyright 2013Nina Levine

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Nina Levine is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this ebook.

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This book is dedicated to my daughter.

You’ve watched me try many things in life, and what I want you to take from that, is that it doesn’t matter whether you follow the one steady path in life or if you veer off and try numerous paths – so long as you keep believing in yourself and follow your OWN path.

“Not all those who wander are lost.”

- J. R. R. Tolkien

PROLOGUE

FUCK.

How has my life come to this?

My heart raced in my chest and dizziness threatened to consume me as my gaze skittered over the gravel of the bar car park where I sat in the dark, taking in Rob’s lifeless body and my torn panties. A sharp chill hit me and although the night was warm, a shiver ran through my body. I pulled my arms around me, trying desperately to push away the ugly thoughts assaulting my mind.

My dress being ripped.

My hair being yanked.

His hands on my body.

His knife slicing my arm.

Bile rose in my throat and I lurched forward. My hands skimmed across the gravel as I tried to stop myself from falling face first onto the ground. Swallowing hard, I glanced up at J who was pacing back and forth, on his phone. His nostrils flared as he snapped something into the phone and his arms swept wide, gesturing wildly throughout the conversation. When he ended the call, he raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a harsh breath.

Crouching in front of me, he said, “Scott will be here soon.” His eyes searched mine, looking for what, I wasn’t sure. They were so hard, though. Not like the J I knew and loved.

Blinking my gaze away, I tried to wipe away the tears streaming down my face. And then my eyes slid to Rob’s body, sprawled dead on the gravel close by.

You motherfucker. Why did you have to do what you did?

I didn’t know how long I sat there like that, staring vacantly at him, but movement to my left caught my attention and I turned to see what it was.

Scott strode towards me, his shoulders pushed back, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. When he reached me, he knelt down and gently touched my arm. “Madison, it’s time to go,” he said quietly.

I stared into his eyes, not sure what I would find there, but all I saw was tenderness. Unusual. Scott didn’t do tenderness. Not very often.

J knelt on the other side of me. “Come on, baby,” he said as he tried to help me up.

Pain shot through my body as I stood. I winced but didn’t let it slow me. J wrapped his arms around me and helped me to Scott’s Charger. I looked back at Rob, my eyes taking in his bloody body and then scanning the area to note my underwear on the ground; a reminder of the attack that had occurred.

J settled me in the back of Scott’s car and wrapped a towel around my arm, covering the blood. His blue eyes met mine, full of concern. “Will you be all right here while Scott and I deal with the body?” he asked.

I nodded and he left me; left me to go deal with a body like it was just another thing to do in his day. Well, I guessed it sometimes was. All part and parcel of being a member of the Storm MC. My dad’s club. The club I grew up around.

Fuck.

I asked myself again.

How has my life come to this?

1

MADISON

“JESUS, DARLIN’, YOU know how to suck, don’t you?” the guy whose cock was currently in my mouth said. His hand was on my head trying to direct me, but I didn’t need it. Like he said, I had talents. I kept on sucking while my hands reached under to massage his balls, and he groaned with pleasure.

We were in his bedroom, him leaning against a wall with me on my knees. Two hours ago we’d never met and less than two hours from now would be the last he’d ever see of me. This was perhaps a shame because he was one hot guy; built with muscles that screamed to be touched, ink that begged to be traced and a face that any woman would kill to kiss. But I didn’t do relationships, not anymore.

I stopped sucking his cock and moved my mouth to lay kisses up his stomach as I stood, licking and nipping as I went. He was naked and I really just wanted to devour his body – he was that gorgeous. I made it all the way up to his mouth and stood face to face, taking in his grin and his dancing eyes.

He wrapped his arms around me, gripping my ass. “Darlin’, I’ve gotta get these clothes off you and sink my dick into that wet pussy of yours.”

Trailing a finger across his lips, I nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

Not needing any further encouragement, he lifted my top over my head and discarded it. He repeated these motions with my bra, jeans and panties until I was naked too. His eyes slowly roamed my body, taking it all in until they settled on my face, and he grinned at me again. “Fuck, how many hours do you dedicate to this body to get it lookin’ this good?”

Reaching out to hook my finger under his chin so I could pull his mouth to mine, I replied, “I like to fuck my way to this body, baby, so I’d say not enough hours. I’d definitely like to spend more time on it.”

It’s the one thing that chases away thoughts of everything I gave up years ago.

It’s the one thing that makes me feel alive.

Our mouths met and an explosion of sensations shot through me as our tongues and lips tangled. He pulled me close so his erection pressed against my pussy.

Yes.

I ground myself against him so his cock touched my clit. Needing more friction there, I reached down and rubbed myself with his cock while I grabbed his balls with my other hand, rolling them back and forth.

Oh, God, I never want this to end.

His need for me.

My need for him.

So damn good.

These moments were what I craved.

It was in these moments when I felt good that hope flared deep in my soul – that long discarded sense that maybe – just maybe – my life could be good again, and I could have love, and passion, and a future with someone.

“Talented with your hands as well, I see,” he murmured between kisses.

I bit his lip softly, and then a little harder. “I’m a woman of many talents.”

He trailed his tongue down my neck and chest until he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked it, one hand moving to cup my breast as he did so. I threw my head back and enjoyed the pleasure traveling along my skin. I really was a tit girl and couldn’t get enough.

“You like that, darlin’?” My moan was enough of an answer.

I tangled my fingers in his hair and applied a little pressure to keep his head and mouth in place, on my breast. Dividing his attention between both my breasts, him sucking on me while I rubbed his cock against my clit was my version of heaven.

Eventually he stopped and moved his mouth to my ear, nibbling on it and then he breathed out, “I’m gonna fuck you now. That okay with you?”

Pleasure had wound itself through my body to the point where I was more than ready for what he wanted - more than ready for the release it would give me. The escape I need. “That’s more than okay with me.”

He turned us so I was now the one against the wall and reached his hand down to my pussy. I moaned loudly when he pushed two fingers inside me and massaged my walls. “Don’t get me wrong, that feels good, but I need your cock, baby,” I almost begged.

He smirked and withdrew his fingers. “Hang on, gotta get a condom.” He left me for a minute while he located one. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the foil packet and saw him put the condom on.

Yes.

Coming back to me, he bent so his face was in my pussy and I screamed out when he licked along my wet folds and dipped his tongue into me. God damn, that feels so good. Swirling his tongue inside, he gripped my ass and massaged my cheeks.

My mind duelled with itself; on one hand, I wanted him to continue to tongue fuck me, but on the other hand, I really wanted his cock. In the end, the desire for cock won and I reached down and pulled his mouth away from my pussy. He knew what I wanted and stood up, lifting me as he went. I wrapped my legs around him and I clenched in anticipation.

His cock hit my entrance and he thrust in, hard and fast. Just how I liked it. My arms were around him and I gripped as he thrust in and out, in and out. The pleasure inside me built as we continued our climb. Silence surrounded us except for the grunts and groans as we fought for our release, which was perfect – the less talk, the better. I just needed his body and his time, nothing else. His cock filled me, the friction divine, and when his finger hit my clit to massage it, I went over the edge. I screamed as I came and he grunted in approval. A moment later, his body shuddered as he found his release. We then clung to each other as waves of pleasure flowed through us.

He lifted his head to look at me. “You done, darlin’?”

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”

He let me down and I headed for his bathroom to clean myself up, grabbing my clothes on the way. Neither of us said a word, but really, what was there to say? We’d both gotten what we wanted.

I locked myself in his bathroom and splashed water on my face, enjoying the cold, cleansing sensation. Turning the tap off, I looked in the mirror. My face had that just-fucked flush and my long brunette hair was a tangled mess. The lipstick I’d applied before hitting the club was long gone and sweat had smudged my makeup. But the thing that stood out the most to me was the dullness I saw in my eyes; the indifference I felt towards life.

The only thing that gave me a buzz anymore was sex, and even that was starting to lose its magic.

2

MADISON

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER I was on my way home when my phone rang. Retrieving it from my bag, I checked the caller ID. Private number. No way, buddy. I ignored it and threw it back in my bag. However, the asshole was persistent and rang again. I ignored it again but after three more rounds, I was pissed off.

I stabbed at the phone to answer it and snapped, “This had better be good.”

“Madison, it’s Griff. Got some news for you that you’re not gonna like very much.”

Fuck. Griff was a member of Storm, the motorcycle club that my Dad was President of, and my brother, Scott, was Vice President of. I grew up in the club; it was my family. However, two years earlier I walked away from that life, moving from Brisbane to Coffs Harbour to put distance between us. Now I spent my time trying to keep my nose out of club business. My family had supported my move two years ago, but they wanted me to come home. Scott often called and visited, trying to convince me, but I never caved. When I left, I’d been a broken mess, and I was still trying to put myself back together. Going home would be going backwards as far as I was concerned.

I sighed. “What’s up, Griff?”

“Scott wants you back here. There’s some shit going down with Black Deeds and he doesn’t want you alone in case they retaliate by going after you.”

Black Deeds MC was a rival club Storm often had problems with, so I couldn’t see that this would be any different. “Griff, I’m fine, and you can tell Scott I’m not coming back.”

“It’s bad shit, babe. Be best if you did come home.”

“The answer’s no. Not happening.” I raked my fingers through my hair and blew out a long breath, wishing he would accept my answer and let me get on with my night.

There was a long pause while he took in what I said. He probably hated this part of the job. Dealing with me. I would. “Right. I’ll pass that on to Scott,” he replied, and then hung up.

I stared at the phone. He gave in way too easily and it made me suspicious. They had to have an agenda and I wondered what would be the next step now that I’d said no. Storm didn’t take no for an answer. Ever. And they didn’t tend to get caught up in bad situations for too long. They barrelled through anything that got in their way. They had a reputation for being a strong and ruthless club, so there was only one question on my mind. What the fuck have they gotten themselves into that’s made them feel this threatened?

“Hey, honey, I’m home,” I yelled out as I came through the front door.

“I’m in the kitchen, chica,” came the reply, and I headed towards the voice.

The scene that greeted me in the kitchen left me stunned. My best friend and roommate, Serena, had filled the kitchen with muffins. It was after midnight and there she was with about fifty muffins spread from one end of the kitchen to the other. Her hair, face and clothes were covered in flour, and there were ingredients and cooking utensils everywhere. Unusual for Serena; my BFF was no domestic goddess.

“What is all this cooking in aid of?” I asked, because it had to be for a reason. Serena didn’t often bake.

“My mother,” she said simply. And that said it all. Serena’s mother was a domineering woman and when she said jump, you said how high.

“Ah, another one of her charity assignments?” Her mother was always doing stuff for charities so I guessed this was just another one of those. Usually, she didn’t get Serena to bake though, because let’s face it, we all knew her skills in this department were somewhat lacking.

Serena nodded. “Yep, and at the rate I’m going, I doubt she’ll ever ask me to cook for her again.”

I laughed. “Do you want some help, honey?”

She flashed me a huge grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

We spent the next hour tidying up and getting the muffins packed and ready to be delivered to her mother later that day. At about two a.m. I crawled into bed, exhausted after a long day, but sleep eluded me. Thoughts of Storm and my life before I left assaulted me, and as much as I tried to avoid them, I couldn’t.

I’d been in a living hell for most of the year prior to leaving Brisbane. To be honest, it began before that. It started after Rob attacked me which was almost two years before I left, back when I was dating J, the guy who I thought would be my forever. Our relationship had never been the same after J killed Rob when he attacked me. J blamed himself for the attack and I blamed myself for J killing him.

That night had started like any other for me. I’d gone to work at Hyde’s, a local bar. Rob worked with me as a bartender and we’d had a fun night with all the regulars. However, after close, while I was waiting for J to pick me up, Rob had turned on me and attempted to rape me in the car park outside the bar. J was late picking me up and arrived mid attack, just as Rob had pulled a knife on me and slashed my arm. Five minutes later, Rob was dead after J shot him and so began our descent into hell.

J and I had been together for a little over two years at that point. We’d been great friends for a lot longer than that. He’d joined Storm when he was nineteen. I was a seventeen-year–old schoolgirl at the time and fell hard for him. However, nothing but flirting happened between us for six years, and during that time, we built a strong friendship. Our relationship as a couple had been fiery. We couldn’t get enough of each other, but at the same time, we argued constantly. Our main problem stemmed from the club. J didn’t involve me in club business, annoying the hell out of me. I wanted to be a part of every aspect of his life and when he refused to talk about the club with me, I felt closed off from part of him, which led to many arguments.

In the end though, what tore us apart was our inability to deal with the fallout from Rob’s death. After the attempted rape, J tried to wrap me in cotton wool. He constantly monitored my whereabouts and tried to dictate where I could go and what I could do. I was not a woman who could cope with that style of relationship. On top of that, I’d started drinking heavily. Feeling responsible for Rob’s death and being unable to work through my feelings associated with that, I’d resorted to shutting it all out by hitting the bar.

It started out as a bit of fun, but quickly spiralled into an addiction I couldn’t get under control. J had lived with an alcoholic parent and had no tolerance for drinking to excess. He tried desperately to get me help but I blocked all his attempts. This went on for almost a year and the final nail in our coffin had been Jodie, a club whore who J had supposedly cheated on me with. I’d believed the rumours, or perhaps I had wanted to, simply to have an excuse to walk away from the hard work our relationship had become. Sometimes it didn’t seem like love was enough when everything else was a struggle.

The year after I left J was the lowest point in my life. My drinking was worse. I had shut myself off from family and friends, and I had hooked up with a violent and controlling biker from Storm’s rival club, Black Deeds. Nix was the VP of Black Deeds and getting involved with him had angered my father, brother and J. This had been a good reason for me to continue the relationship because at the time, they were all pissing me off and it felt good to return the gesture. A couple of months into the relationship, I discovered that J hadn’t cheated on me. I was gutted that I’d thrown our relationship away so easily because of a lie, and went to him to apologise for not believing in him. That had been a turning point for me because we rekindled our friendship and he tried to help me get my life back on track. The problem was that Nix wasn’t about to give me up that easily. Although we had only been together for a very short time, he was committed to keeping us together. He didn’t like my friendship with J and the day he worked out I was still in love with him was the day he almost beat me to death. That was the day my life turned in a new direction and led me to where I was now.

I hadn’t spoken to J in over two years. I’d also stayed sober in that time. Moving away from Storm saved my life. The problem was, I felt dead on the inside. I was a twenty-nine year old single woman just going through the motions of life. Sure, I had a job, good friends, and a great social life. On the outside, my life looked like fun. But it wasn’t real. And I didn’t know how to make it any better.

3

MADISON

“HELLO, MY NAME is Madison, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hello, Madison,” the group responded and I proceeded to share my story. This group was my safe place and at that moment I needed them in a way I hadn’t for a very long time. As I finished, I blew out my breath and let the group’s acceptance and support envelope me. It seeped into my bones as I glanced around the room, offering a small smile in thanks. Someone else started sharing their story and I sat back and silently lent my support, as had been done for me.

When I first started coming to the group two years earlier, I absolutely hated it. Although I knew I had to get my shit together, the last thing I wanted to do was give up drinking. It was the shield I used to stop the grime of life from touching me. When I drank, I could just let it pass on by. In the end, however, it sent me to a place I never wanted to go back to. I may have fought this group and what it offered for a while, but I made myself a promise to clean up my act, and I followed through on this. Slowly, I realised the support I found in the group was exactly what I needed.

I attended meetings weekly. Not so much because I still craved alcohol, because I didn’t. No, it was more out of habit and to make sure I never went there again. As I looked around the room, I saw people at varying stages of their journey. The ones I liked to focus on were the AA newbies. They reminded me of how far I’d come and how much stronger I was..

That night, though, I was feeling a little vulnerable. Thinking about Storm and J stirred up old feelings of hurt and anger, feelings I’d spent the last couple of years avoiding. In order to move on, I’d needed to lock away all thoughts of J. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about him and that had worked for me, but it wasn’t working so well after receiving the call from Griff. And while I didn’t feel like a drink, I knew myself enough to know I needed to be at the meeting.

The meeting ended soon after and I headed straight out rather than staying for a coffee. Stepping out into the warm January night, I lit a cigarette as I walked home. My mind moved on to the long list of jobs I had to get done that night. Christ, I was supposed to call my brother over an hour ago. I pulled my phone out and dialled him. No answer. Fuck. He would be pissed at me. I left a message and then sent a text to Serena, to let her know I was on my way home.

Me: On my way, what’s for dinner?

Serena: Fuck off. You’re taking me out.

Me: Am I? Make sure you wear that slutty dress for me.

Serena: Oh, I’ll wear it babe but I’m not putting out.

God, how I loved this chick. She was my sunshine at the end of a shitty day. Even on days when I was exhausted, she managed to pick me up. I would forever be thankful for the day she came into my life. When I moved to Coffs Harbour I hadn’t expected to find a new family, but that was just what I did find. I’d started a job in a clothing boutique and Serena was my workmate. We’d hit it off straight away. We shared the same sense of humour, and bonded over our love for slutty dresses, heels and inked men. Serena introduced me to her inner circle of friends and I became fast friends with them as well. The five of us were inseparable and they were always there for me.

My phone rang and I answered it, without looking at the caller ID, with some attitude, figuring it was my brother calling back. “Scott, what the fuck is so urgent that you felt the need to leave five shitty messages for me?”

A chuckle came down the line. “Babe, you’ve got the wrong man.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Blake, I thought you were Scott. Thank God, it’s you.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Obviously. What have you done to piss him off?”

“Nothing. You know what Scott’s like. Always finding something to be pissy about,” I snapped. Jesus, just thinking about my brother gave me the shits.

“Babe.” Blake paused and I was sure I could actually hear his mind ticking over. “The words pissy and Scott Cole do not go together in the same sentence. Your brother is far too intense that pissy just doesn’t cover it.”

I blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” Blake had met Scott a couple of times, so he’d seen firsthand just how intense my brother could be. “Why are you calling me?”

“Gina told me what a shit day you had so I’ve made you dinner. Bring Serena too.”

“You’re a superstar, Blake Stone. We’ll be there in about half an hour.”

“See you then,” he said and we hung up. My day had just gotten better. It was funny how the simple things that friends did could mean so much.

TWO HOURS later I was at Blake’s house when my brother finally returned my call.

“Scott,” I answered and mentally banged my head against the wall. I really didn’t want to deal with his shit.

“You been updated?” Yep, he was pissed at me.

I sighed. “Yeah, Griff called.” I hesitated and then threw caution to the wind. “Scott, I don’t need or even want to be kept in the loop on this shit.” As I held my breath and waited for what I knew would not be a pretty reply, I couldn’t help but think of the irony in this situation. Years ago I’d begged J to talk to me about club business and now I wanted nothing more than to be kept out of the loop.

“Fuck, Madison! You got no choice. The club needs to make sure you’re safe, so you need to fuckin’ wise up and take this shit in.”

“What part of ‘I’m out’ don’t you understand?” I rubbed my eyes. It was too late for this argument.

“What part of ‘you are never out’ do you not fuckin’ understand?” he snapped back.

I knew I was testing my brother’s patience but I gave up caring about that a long time ago. I sat silently, trying to process everything he said.

“Why do we have to rehash this crap every time you decide I should come back?” I searched for Blake’s eyes and found them focused on me. He gave me a tight smile and I shook my head back at him. This stuff between Scott and me never got any easier, and Blake knew how hard it was for me.

Scott softened his tone. “Madison, it’s different this time. Nix is involved.”

A chill ran along my spine at the mention of that name. I sighed again, resigned. “Okay, talk to me.”

“Nix has made threats against the club so Dad wants you to leave Coffs Harbour. Move back here, where we can protect you.” Scott finally got to the reason for the call.

“No.” There was no way I was moving back.

“Why the fuck do you have to be so fuckin’ stubborn about this?” Scott’s anger filtered through the phone again and I imagined him pacing and getting ready to punch something.

“Scott, you know what I left. I can’t come back,” I pleaded. I walked out onto the balcony, lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Scott had stopped talking and I hoped he was remembering the mess I was when I left.

“Okay.” He blew out a long breath. “But I’m putting a guy on you.”

This was not what I wanted but I knew better than to argue. It was Scott’s version of a compromise, and as he was not known for compromising, ever, I was grateful.

THE NEXT MORNING I woke up with an uneasy feeling in my gut, wondering where all this shit with the club would end up. Making a coffee, I took it into the bathroom with me. Not being a morning person, I needed a caffeine hit to get me going. Serena, on the other hand, was always up at five a.m. to get her run in before work. I didn’t understand this current trend for running and really couldn’t comprehend anyone wanting to get up that early to do it. Taking my shower, I heard her crashing around in the kitchen making breakfast. I cringed at the thought of the mess she would create making one of her juices; a mess I would have to clean up.

“Maddy, do you want me to make you some breakfast?” she yelled out.

“No, honey, but thanks. I’m just going to grab something on the way.”

“Okay,” she replied and I smiled to myself. She might struggle in the domestic department but at least she tried. There was no doubt she loved taking care of those she loved.

I finished my shower and took some time to blow-dry my hair and fix my makeup. Normally I didn’t spend a lot of time on this for work, but I was feeling down, and on down days, I liked to look my best. I looked in the mirror and didn’t mind what I saw. Even though I had done some hard living, I’d come through pretty much unscathed. Since giving up alcohol, I made an effort to live healthily and I was fit and strong thanks to yoga and walking. Inked images and words holding significance to the highs and lows of my life painted some of the skin on my arms and back. However, the most prominent reminder of the shit I’d done in my life was the long scar Rob inflicted on me; it glared at me every damn day, but I didn’t begrudge it. Whenever Serena or Blake suggested I ink over it, I always said no. I needed to see it to keep me focused on a path that would take me far away from where I once was.

“I’m ready,” I announced as I headed into the kitchen to grab my lunch out of the fridge. Serena and I had a shift together later that day, which I looked forward to.

“Let me just put my hair up and then we can go,” she replied and slapped my ass on her way out of the kitchen.

I laughed and shook my head at her. Yep, it was going to be a good day.

Five minutes later, Serena reappeared with her hair done. She tilted her head and smiled at me. I knew she was sussing out my mental state because this was something she often did. “How you doing, chica?” she finally asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “The fact that Nix is involved in all of this worries me. Scott didn’t give me a lot of info to go on but I can only imagine it is bad. Nix is a motherfucker you don’t want to mess with.”

Serena nodded. “Yeah, I’ve worked that out from some of the stuff you’ve told me in the past. How the hell did you end up dating him?”

I sighed, wishing my naivety and immaturity hadn’t led me to make the decisions I had. But no amount of wishing could change my past. “I was so messed up and pissed off with J, and Nix was just there one night. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Dad and I weren’t really speaking and I was annoyed at him too. I knew that being with Nix would shit him. I think I kinda did it to get back at all of them; J, Dad and Scott.”

This was the most I had spoken about my relationship with Nix to Serena, and she encouraged me to keep sharing. “So you hooked up with him and then kept seeing him?”

“Yeah, he was really into it. Me, not so much, but it had been six months since I broke up with J and I was lonely. I was drinking pretty heavily by then and Nix was the only one who didn’t give me grief for it.” I shook my head as the memories came flooding back. “When I was drinking, I was a lot easier to boss around. That’s probably why he liked me drinking. I just didn’t give enough of a shit about anything and went along with whatever he wanted.”

Serena moved closer to me and touched me gently on the arm, on my scar. “Did Nix do this to you?”

“No.” Shit, this conversation was making me feel ill. The familiar feelings of self-hatred washed over me. Tingles spread through to my hands and the ends of my fingers and my head began to spin. Nausea took hold of my stomach and I actually thought I might vomit. No-one, besides J and Scott, knew how I got my scar and it was something I never wanted Serena or anyone else to find out.

“Hey, honey, are you okay?” Serena sensed my distress and directed me to sit on the couch. She ran into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which I took gratefully from her.

I downed the water in one go and focused on my breathing. Serena sat beside me, rubbing my back, providing me with her warmth and comfort. I knew she was worried but I didn’t have it in me yet to ease her concerns. All I could think about was that my past was finally going to catch up with me. Fuck Nix. Why did he have to come back into my life? He wasn’t the reason for all the crap that took place, but he was the climax to it all. And now he was going to be the catalyst for it all flaring up again.

Serena checked her watch. “We should probably get to work; otherwise, Gina will be in a foul mood with us all day for being late.”

I looked at her and nodded, offering a small smile. “Thanks,” I whispered, grateful that she knew I needed this conversation to be over.

“OH, God, these shoes are killing my feet,” Serena complained as she fell onto the couch and ripped off her shoes.

It had been a long day, and the heels we wore to work didn’t help. But hell, they looked good and sometimes that was what a girl needed to get her through the day.

It was Friday night and we both had the weekend off. Blake had rounded everyone up to visit his restaurant, Scarlett, for dinner tonight, while Saturday was gearing up to be a girls’ day out shopping. Sunday was still open for discussion, but I was hoping for some time in the sun.

“What time did Blake say dinner was?” Serena asked.

“Eight o’clock,” I answered and pulled my phone out to see if I had any messages.

“I’m going to take a shower unless you want to go first.”

I waved her away after discovering a message from Scott. “You go first. I’ve got a message from Scott to check.” She left me as I began reading.

Scott: Will you be home tonight?

Me: No.

Scott: Text me the address of where you’ll be. I’ve got a guy on the way.

Me: You’re kidding, right? I’m fine tonight, send him tomorrow.

My phone rang and I rolled my eyes when I saw it was Scott. Answering the phone, I spoke immediately, “I’m with friends tonight, Scott. They’ll look out for me.”

“Madison, just give me the goddamn address. He’ll be there in a couple of hours,” he snapped.

I huffed out a sigh. “Fine.” I reeled off the restaurant’s address.

I heard him repeat it to someone in the background and then he ended our conversation with, “I’ll be there towards the end of next week to try to talk some sense into you,” before he hung up.

I threw my phone on the couch and stomped into my bedroom, frustrated as hell. Despite my snark at my brother, I was grateful he looked out for me, even though my stubbornness had a hard time admitting it aloud. In truth, I hated it, hated the situation Nix was putting me in. Once more, my life seemed close to being controlled. I’d left my family to take ownership of my life, my decisions, and it seemed Nix was preventing that from happening by forcing my family’s hand. I just hoped Scott sent one of the prospects; they were a lot easier to boss around.

FAITH THREW her head back and laughed so loud that pretty much all eyes in the restaurant were on us. She had a pretty wicked sense of humour and when she found something funny, everyone knew it. Rowan had just relayed a story about something that happened to him at work and although it was kind of funny, Faith thought it was hilarious. It amazed me that these two used to date a couple of years back and had managed to stay friends after they broke up. In fact, from what I’d been told, they were better friends now than when they dated. I never managed to stay friends with any of my exes.

Rowan leaned across the table and touched my hand. “You’re quiet tonight.” His voice was low so the rest of the group, who kept bantering back and forth, wouldn’t hear. Rowan was one of the most sensitive guys I’d ever met. Serena had introduced us at a party where I knew no-one and he’d gone out of his way to stay close to me that night to make sure I was okay. He was also the guy who would bring you soup and medication when you had the flu and the guy who gave up his plans to go to a football game when you needed someone to go with you to visit your sick grandfather. Yep, he had done those things for me as well as so much more. He was also one of the hottest guys I’d ever met – tall, really well built, covered in ink and bald. However, neither of us were interested in anything more and I valued his friendship.

“Yeah, there’s some stuff going down with Scott and the club. He’s trying to get me to go back home again,” I replied.

“And you’re refusing again?” He grinned and shook his head. Rowan and I had often discussed my brother’s desire for me to return home, and because he had sisters, he was sympathetic towards Scott.

“Of course I am. So now he’s sending someone here to look out for me.” I sighed.

Rowan laughed. “You would drive me fucking insane if you were my sister, Madison. I can just imagine the hell you’re going to give this poor guy.”

At that exact moment, I glimpsed him entering the restaurant, the guy who Scott sent. And I couldn’t believe my eyes. Over six foot of pure muscle, tanned and inked skin, dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was as gorgeous today as the last time I saw him. My heart beat faster and I blocked everything else out as my mind focused on the man heading straight for me. He looked as pissed as I was. Yeah, I bet he didn’t want this gig and I could picture the battle he probably had with Scott about it.

I pushed my chair back and stood, ready to face him. It had been two years since we’d seen each other and while my head was screaming that it didn’t want to see him, my body betrayed me. I had that fluttery feeling in my stomach; felt that familiar need, deep in my core. No man had ever affected me like he did.

Walking up to me, he ignored everyone around us. “Madison.”

His gravelly voice did me in; it always had. Weak at the knees, I gripped the chair to steady myself; there was no way he would see me falter. He’d sent me away two years ago, ripped my heart out and crushed it, and I would be damned if he discovered what he was still capable of doing to me. Lifting my face, I met his eyes. “J.”

4

JASON

FUCK, SHE WASN’T going to make this easy for either of us. I was convinced Scott was handing me my balls on a plate by sending me to her. One look at Madison and I wanted to shove them at her and get the fuck out of there. Christ, she was still as goddamn sexy as the last time I laid eyes on her. I ran my eyes down her body and took in the low-cut, short dress and fuck-me heels. God, I loved those shoes and my dick twitched just thinking about wrapping those legs around me.

“Can we talk outside for a minute?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and appeared to be assessing the situation before she gave me a curt nod and said, “Fine.” And with that, she grabbed her purse, brushed past me and stalked towards the front door. I watched her ass sway as I followed her out and told my dick to settle the fuck down. No way were we going there again. I was there for one reason and one reason only.

Once outside, she reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette. She quickly lit it and took a long drag. God, I hoped she was still sober. Last I’d heard, she was and she looked pretty healthy, but the way she sucked on that cigarette looked like a junkie fixing for their next hit.

“Scott told you I was coming, yeah?” I asked, taking in the glare she levelled on me. Yep, balls on a plate.

“No,” she snapped. “He said someone was coming but he failed to mention it was you.” She looked like she was going to say something else but took another long drag on her cigarette instead.

“Well, you’ve got me until he pulls me back home, so I say we make the best of a shitty situation and put our crap aside.”

She took another long drag on her cigarette, threw it down and ground it out before scowling at me. “Go to hell, J. In fact, go home and tell Scott to send someone else. You and I have too much between us. This will go a lot smoother for everyone if he sends another guy.”

It was time to take my balls back. Scott had pissed me off by forcing me to babysit, and in less than two minutes Madison was already irritating the fuck out of me. “Babe, sending me away and waiting for someone else to turn up leaves you by yourself. Trust me when I say you do not want Nix to find you alone.”

“Don’t call me babe,” she started and then stopped, as if she’d been about to say something else before hesitating. Her hand moved to rub the scar I knew was on her arm and she blinked a few times before continuing. “I really don’t think Nix is going to come here looking for me. Scott’s overreacting.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got no idea, Madison. The Nix you knew two years ago has nothing on who he is now. Since he became President of Black Deeds, he wouldn’t think twice about fucking over his own mother, let alone you.”

“I know what that motherfucker is capable of. I know what he can do.” She moved close and jabbed a finger in my chest.

Anger swirled around us, threatening to snap my patience. I flicked my hand out and grabbed her wrist, startling her. I made a quick decision to shock her into understanding just what Nix did to those in his way. Grabbing my phone out with my free hand, I scrolled to a photo and shoved it in her face. “Yeah, babe, I know what he did to you, but this…this is what he did to Bec.”

Her face paled and I let her rip her hand away from mine. A fraction of a second later, her open palm hit my cheek, which I should have been ready for, knowing her preference for doing that when she was pissed at me. Anger burned through me, not just at her slap but at this whole fucked-up situation. Allowing my anger to lead, I shoved her up against the wall behind her, keeping one hand on her waist and one on the wall above her head. “Listen the fuck up ‘cause I’m not going to repeat myself. Nix is out for blood and I’m betting he hasn’t let go of the shit that went down between you two. He wasn’t ready to let you go, Madison, and nobody walks away from him like you did. Bec tried, and what you saw in that picture is what he did to her. You want that to happen to you?”

Staring at me with eyes wide, her expression blanched. “They were together? And he killed her for leaving?”

I loosened my hold on her and stepped back to give her some space. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Yes, from what we’ve heard he raped her, let his guys take a go as well, and then slit her throat. They dumped her body outside our clubhouse.”

Madison’s hand flew to her mouth and she released a sob. Fuck, I hadn’t wanted to tell her the details, but she’d left me no choice. I knew shocking her into allowing me to stay was the only way she would cave. Tears streaming down her face, I pulled her close to comfort her. I was surprised as shit when her arms wrapped around me, but I hugged her back in silent support. We stayed like that for about five minutes and it felt good to have her in my arms again, but I knew once she pulled herself together, she’d push me away. Fuck, she’d probably slap me again.

We were interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Madison pulled away, wiped her eyes and reached in her purse for a tissue. I focused my gaze on her as I answered my phone. “Yeah?”

It was Scott. “You got her?” He was always to the point; I appreciated that about him, no fucking about.

“Yeah. I think we’ve just come to an agreement.” I raised my eyebrows at Madison, waiting for her acknowledgement. She nodded her head once, which I knew pained her to do. Releasing tension I hadn’t realised I was holding, I waited for Scott to continue.

“Good, because Nix just killed Georgie. This shit is really fucked up now.”

“Fuck!” I roared. Georgie was Bec’s fifteen-year-old son. Nix and Bec had been together for a year before she recently left him. He’d taken them both out, so his agenda was pretty clear. “You’ve got Crystal?” That poor kid, Bec’s ten-year-old daughter, had lived through some ugly shit and now she was alone in the world.

Madison’s eyes were wild; she’d picked up that something bad was going down and snatched the phone out of my hand. “What’s happened?”

Tears reformed in her eyes, and broken sobs filled the street as Scott spoke to her. I reached out and touched her on the shoulder; it was an automatic movement and she didn’t flinch. It reminded me of a time when things were good between us, but that love didn’t exist anymore. We’d killed it.

She ended the call and handed me back my phone before turning around and walking towards the restaurant. I could tell she was wiping the tears from her face.

“What are you doing?” I called out.

Without turning to look at me, she replied, “I’m just saying goodbye to my friends. I’ll be right back so wait here.”

I let her go. This day had completely turned to shit. And yet, it was fucking good to see Madison.

Shit.

5

MADISON

AS I ENTERED the restaurant to say goodbye, Blake’s eyes met mine from across the room. He was mingling with his customers but left them to come to me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I shook my head, tears threatening to spill again, but I pulled my big girl panties up and said, “Not really, but I will be. It turns out that Scott wasn’t kidding when he said that there was some bad shit going down. I just found out an old friend of mine was murdered by Nix.”

He sucked in a breath. “Fuck, babe. Why?”

I shrugged. “Who knows why Nix does anything he does, but the club thinks it’s because she tried to leave him.”

His eyes widened in understanding. “So, they think he will come after you now because you left him. Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes, I think so. Knowing Scott and J though, there’s most likely more to it they aren’t telling me.”

“What are you going to do? Go home?”

“I need some time to think it through, but maybe. My friend’s daughter is all alone now so I want to check on her. She’s only ten, Blake. How could someone do that to her? Take away her family like that.” My chest became heavy as despair travelled through my veins. “I can’t believe I dated him. It makes me feel sick.”

He pulled me into a hug. “There are some twisted people out there, baby girl. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

Nodding, I answered, “Yeah, honey. I know I can always count on you.”

Stepping out of his embrace, I turned to the table where our friends were. They all watched us intently, probably wondering what the hell was going on. I smiled and left Blake to speak to them.

Serena stood up and came to me with a huge hug. “You’ve been crying. What the fuck did he say to you?” She was mad on my behalf and I loved that about her.

“I’ll fill you in later, okay?” She nodded and I continued, “I’m leaving with J now, so I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

I smiled. “No, I’m okay with him. Besides he looks exhausted and will probably just go to sleep. I need some time alone to think.”

“Fair enough, but I won’t be home too late.”

“Thanks.”

I said goodbye to Faith and Rowan, and then headed back outside to J. He sat on his bike waiting for me, still looking as pissed off as he had when he first arrived.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, but I’m not so sure I’ll be able to get on your bike in this dress.”

He smirked. “Never stopped you before, babe,” he said, letting his eyes roam over my body. My traitorous body reacted immediately under his gaze, my pulse beating faster and my nipples pebbling.

Flustered, it was easier to be on the defensive. “Just pass me a helmet,” I snapped.

He did what I asked and then turned around, settling into his seat while I attempted to hike my dress up enough to allow me to sit behind him. Somehow I managed this; although, I did feel like my ass was exposed for all the world to see.

His hands gripped my legs and pulled me closer to him. Bloody hell, my pussy took immediate notice, and that was not a good thing. Not where J was concerned, because if I let her take control of the situation, God knew where we would end up.

I wrapped my arms around him and held on while we sped off into the night. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into my driveway. I guessed that Scott had given him my address. Letting go of him, I did my best to get off the bike without flashing too much and quickly smoothed my dress down before removing the helmet and giving it back to him.

Without a second glance in his direction, I went inside and headed to the kitchen, flipping on lights as I went. I was not one of those people who tried to conserve power or money by never putting lights on; I loved the house lit up. Turning on the tap, I filled the kettle and started making coffee. Figuring J could do with a caffeine hit, I got him a mug too but then stopped myself when I went to fill it. It had been awhile since I’d made him coffee, perhaps he took it differently now.

He entered the kitchen and I turned to him, holding up the coffee and a spoon. “How do you have your coffee these days?”

“Same as before,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

I felt a little self-conscious with him watching me like this, but hell would freeze over before I admitted that to him, so I went about the task of making coffee. We stood in silence while waiting for the kettle to boil. It was uncomfortable and I wished that J would say something, anything, but he didn’t. Eventually, I finished making our drinks and handed his to him before we both took a seat at the kitchen table. And, again, there was complete silence. Normally, I enjoyed silence, but with J it felt awkward.

So I forced myself to say something. “How the hell did Bec end up with Nix?” Both her kids’ fathers had been bikers who had screwed her over so the last I knew she’d sworn off bikers altogether.

“From what I can work out she flipped after what happened with Rob and got into some bad shit. Led her to Nix eventually. I think he targeted her.”

My mind raced and my anxiety rose. I didn’t want to talk about Rob and J had caught me off guard even bringing it up. My hand brushed over the scar on my arm without me realising it, until I saw J’s eyes move to it. He lifted his hand and moved to touch me. “Don’t,” I snapped, and scraped my chair back so I could stand.

“Fuck, Madison. You’re still dealing with that, aren’t you?” J stood and moved towards me, but I backed away. Reaching his arm out, he hooked it around my waist, and pulled me towards him.

I raised my palms to his chest in an effort to halt his progress of bringing us together. “Don’t talk to me about dealing with that. I fucking have. You’ve got no idea what I’ve been through with all that shit, so don’t think you know all about it.” I tried to push away from him but he was too strong and held me close. With my heart beating wildly, I ignored his scent, ignored our closeness. I needed to protect myself. The only way to do that was to keep pushing, and if I couldn’t do that physically, my best bet was to stick with the bitch routine.

“You might have dealt with your drinking and I hope you fucking have, babe, but I can tell that you haven’t sorted through some of the other shit in your head,” he bit out.

“It’s none of your business. You made it perfectly clear you weren’t interested when you told me to leave,” I hissed, and gave him another shove. He relented and let me go.

His face contorted in anger and he raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine. I don’t wanna get into this crap right now anyway.” He jabbed his finger at me. “Mark my fucking words though, we will be getting into it.”

Oh, my God. He was still one bossy fucker. And as much as I tried to ignore the fact, desire screamed through me at his bossiness.

I hope I can be strong enough to stay out of his bed

I pray I can be strong enough to guard my heart.

I ROLLED over and checked the time on the bedside clock. Three a.m. Shit, it was going to be a long night; I’d woken up every hour since I went to bed at midnight. The revelations of the evening had stirred up long suppressed feelings and I couldn’t stop the memories. I reached for my smokes and lit one, taking a long, hard drag on it. I closed my eyes as it filled my lungs and the smell of it hit my nostrils. Smoking was a habit I was trying to break, but in times of stress it calmed my nerves. I took another drag, trying desperately to block out the images of Bec suffering at the hands of Nix.

Bec was my best friend growing up. Her father was also a member of the club and we’d been inseparable. She was a few years older than me and had always looked out for me. Bec had fallen pregnant at seventeen, and I had helped her look after Georgie when he was born, and later, Crystal. We’d been through a lot together and had always sworn nothing would come between us, but then on that fateful day that changed my life, something had come between us and there had been no going back from it. Bec cut me out of her life and I’d had to learn how to live life without the unwavering support of a best friend. Even after Nix had fucked me up, she didn’t check in on me; she hated me that much. But I had never stopped loving her and my broken heart cracked even more at the realisation that I would never see her again.

Bec’s hatred stemmed from the fact she’d been dating Rob at the time he attacked me. They’d been together for a couple of years, and although he’d often flirted with me, I naïvely thought he was harmless. Turned out he was far from harmless. After J killed him, and he and Scott buried the body, Bec had been heartbroken at his disappearance. She wasn’t stupid though, and suspected the club had something to do with it because Rob and the club had always had problems. Threats had been made against him so she assumed that the club had finally made good on those threats. And when he’d failed to ever show up again, and I hadn’t helped her find him, she turned against me saying that I’d taken the club’s side. If only she knew the truth. But I couldn’t tell her the truth because it implicated J.

I stubbed out my smoke and left my bed. There was no point trying to force sleep. Wandering out to the kitchen, I saw the light on and realised J was up. He sat at the table and looked up when he heard me. We hadn’t spoken much after we’d argued. Before shutting myself away in my bedroom, I’d hooked him up with a pillow and blanket. I didn’t trust myself with him yet and needed to work through my conflicting emotions. Although I thought I was over him, especially after the way he’d treated me, relief at seeing him again confused me.

“Scott called. Fucking prospects lost Nix. We’re on it, but haven’t found him yet,” J said as I walked past him to get a glass of water. His voice was husky from sleep and he sat dressed in only his jeans. No freaking shirt. J was easily the best looking man I had ever met and having those muscles shoved in my face at this time of the morning, when I had little sleep was making my brain fire haphazardly. It wasn’t safe to be this close to him when he was shirtless. And was that my tattoo still on his chest? Surely not; surely he would have had that removed. I wasn’t going to stare to confirm it though.

“You boys are resourceful so I’m sure you’ll find him soon.” I stumbled over my words distracted by his bare chest and arms.

“Are you taking this seriously, Madison?” he asked sharply.

Annoyed at his tone, all thoughts of his body disappeared. “Of course I am.”

“Well, you don’t fucking seem like it.” He glared at me, waiting for my response.

I decided it was probably best to avoid the rest of this conversation. After finishing my drink, I placed my empty glass in the sink. “I’m going back to bed. I need more sleep to be able to deal with this, J.”

His eyes penetrated mine as I walked past him and I wasn’t sure what I saw in them. It looked like lust but it was probably anger and frustration. Lack of sleep often led me to the wrong conclusions.

I made my way to my bedroom door and was just closing it when he pushed it open. There was no light on so I could only make him out roughly, but the energy surrounding us was charged.

He stood in the doorway, and as I adjusted to the darkness, I could tell he was running his eyes over my body. I’d been right when I thought his eyes held lust; he radiated it now. And hell, it turned me on. I’d never wanted any other man like I wanted J. Sure, I loved sex and craved it, but J brought out carnal desires in me that no one else seemed able to.

“J, what are you doing?” I tried hard to concentrate, but found it almost impossible

He took a step toward me and reached out, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I’d almost gotten to a place where I didn’t think about you every fucking day,” he murmured, surprising the hell out of me.

His words snapped me out of my lust-fuelled trance and I pushed his hand away from my face. “What the hell?” My body stiffened as I waited for his response. Why was he saying that crap to me? He was the one who told me he didn’t love me anymore, the one who sent me away. Why would he still be thinking about me?

“You’ve no idea, baby. No idea...” he muttered and walked out of the room, leaving me confused and annoyed. J was a walking contradiction, and I sensed this was just the beginning. Events from the past were going to start catching up with me and I was powerless to stop it.

6

JASON

I ROLLED OVER and almost fell out of bed. Shit. It wasn’t a bed, it was a couch, and it was the most uncomfortable couch I had ever slept on. Sitting up, I realised what had woken me up. A fucking blender going off in the kitchen. Who the fuck used a blender at this time of the day? Or maybe it was later than I thought. I checked my watch. Nope, it was six o-fucking-clock.

Shifting my legs to put my feet on the ground, I reached for my jeans. I slid into them, threw my t-shirt on, and then stumbled into the kitchen. My guess was that it wasn’t Madison. I’d never known her to be a six-a.m.-blender chick. And I was right. I rounded the corner and discovered a chick making a mess with leaves and fruit as she concocted some fucking awful green drink.

As she lifted a glass of it to her lips, I asked, “What the fuck is that?”

She turned, startled, and grumbled, “Morning to you, too. It’s a green smoothie.”

I rubbed my eyes; it was too early to take all this in. I had never seen anyone drink something that looked that disgusting. “Right,” I muttered as I headed to the kettle. “I need coffee.”

She pointed at the blender. “There’s smoothie left if you want some.”

“Not fucking likely,” I said, and made coffee as she stood there, sipping her drink and looking me up and down.

“How long you here for?” she eventually asked.

I shrugged. “For as long as it takes.”

“For as long as what takes?”

I stopped what I was doing and turned to face her. “For as long as it takes to get Madison to come home with me.”

“You do realise that she isn’t going to ever go home with you, don’t you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

I smirked at her. “You don’t know Madison as well as you think, sugar.”

“My name’s Serena, and I know how broken she was when she left Brisbane. She’s not going back to that anytime soon.”

She scowled at me before starting to clean up her mess. Silence consumed us as we both retreated into our thoughts until a couple of moments later when we were startled by Madison walking into the kitchen. My dick jumped to attention as I took in her sheer t-shirt. It barely covered her ass, and her long legs almost overshadowed her tits. Almost. Because those tits were to fucking die for.

Shit. I concentrated on drinking my coffee. Anything to busy me, and stop me checking her out. However, she made her way to the kettle and when she reached up to grab a mug out of the cupboard, her fucking t-shirt rode up, revealing a perfectly sculpted ass cheek. I let my eyes take that in, and as I looked back up, I saw Serena watching me. Her eyes narrowed and she shot me a filthy look.

Geez, what was up this chick’s ass? “You got a problem with me?” I asked, and settled myself back against the counter, crossing one leg over the other, waiting for her answer.

“Yeah, biker boy, I do. I don’t like you coming here, after what you did to Maddy years ago, and expecting her to just let you start controlling her. And I don’t like your eyes all over her ass. It’s not yours anymore.”

My eyebrows shot up. I kinda dug this chick, and the way she was loyal to Madison. “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire it. And as far as me trying to control Madison? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Madison? Because the one I used to fuck never let me control her.”

Madison dropped her mug and it smashed across the floor. I flicked my gaze to her and found her eyes narrowed at me and her lips pressed together in the way she used to when I’d pissed her off.

“Classy, J. Fucking classy.” She dropped to the floor to start cleaning up the mess. This made my day, and I continued to check out her ass and legs while she did it. Serena helped her, but not before pinning me with another glower

Perfect. I’d succeeded in pissing them both off. Time to get out of there for a while. “Towels in the bathroom?” I asked, pushing off the counter.

“Yes, in the cupboard,” Madison replied, her voice sharp.

I took one last look at her ass and then made my way to the bathroom for a shower, making sure to throw Serena a wink on my way out.

MADISON

SERENA and I watched J leave. “What an asshole!” She didn’t hold back.

I laughed at her indignation. “He’s worked out how to push your buttons, honey. That’s all.”

She gaped at me. “Are you standing up for him?”

“Not really, but he’s not always like that. I have my issues with him, and yes I do think he was an asshole to me years ago, but what he said to you just then... that was J messing with you.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Yeah, well, I’m withholding judgement for now. I still call asshole.”

We finished cleaning up the mess I’d made and then I helped her finish cleaning up her smoothie mess. “I don’t know how you can drink these things,” I said.

“That’s exactly what biker boy said.”

“Yeah, I doubt J even knew what it was.”

“So, now he’s here, are we still going shopping today or are you pulling out? Plus, I still need you to fill me in on what he told you last night,” she said.

I considered her question for a moment. “I don’t see why we can’t still go shopping.” Why should we let J interfere with our plans?

She raised her brows. “You really think he’s going to let you out of his sight?”

“Well, if he doesn’t, it just means he’s coming shopping too. I highly doubt he’ll want to do that.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, sugar,” she said. “I’m going to go and get ready just in case we’re allowed out.” Her eyes danced with sarcasm and I laughed as she turned and left me. Once someone had rubbed Serena the wrong way like J had, it took a lot of work on their behalf to win her over. I had no idea if J planned to try, but he had a long road ahead of him if he did.

I made the coffee I’d originally come to make and sat at the table, enjoying the quiet while I drank it. My thoughts wandered to my conversation with J the previous night. His admission confused me, and although I wanted to know what he meant, there was no way I’d ever bring it up with him. My heart was still fragile where he was concerned. Before I left Brisbane, we’d been rebuilding our friendship and I’d been sure we’d end up back together again, after I managed to free myself of Nix. But then Nix turned on me, and J had been the one to find me beaten and bloody. Something snapped in him that day, and our friendship changed again. A week later, he came to me and told me there was nothing left between us and that I should leave Brisbane to get away from Nix, to start a new life. He’d sent me away; he didn’t love or want me anymore.

Startling me from my thoughts, J came back into the kitchen, freshly showered. I took in his jeans and the way his fitted black t-shirt defined his muscles. And then his scent filled the room: sandalwood. God, I loved that smell; it was the one he’d always worn. It hit my nostrils and then it hit my heart. Memories flooded my mind and overwhelmed my senses. It was funny how a smell had the power to bring so much back to you.

Ignoring the weak sensation in my legs, I stood and, at the same time, he moved into my space. Too close. His presence, his smell, his breath – it all messed with me and I couldn’t think straight. Our eyes locked for a few silent seconds, and then I stepped backwards to escape whatever was happening between us.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole to your friend before,” he apologised, shocking the shit out of me.

This was a new side to J. I tilted my head to the side. “Since when do you apologise for things you’ve said?”

He shrugged. “Since now. Since I’m trying to get you to stop being angry at me. I know you’re still mad at me for what I did, but, babe, that was two years ago and we need to move forward if you’re gonna come back home. Be a lot easier to do that if you weren’t so hostile.”

“Who said I was coming back to Brisbane?”

“You’ll be coming back with me. That’s a given. Just a matter of time till you agree.”

“You’re still as cocky and bossy as you always were, aren’t you?”

Before he could reply, Serena waltzed back in and said to J, “So, biker boy, Madison and I have shopping planned for today. Will you be coming with us or will you allow us to go out on our own?”

J smirked, and then looking from Serena to me, he said, “I like your friend, even if she does have a smart mouth on her.” Focusing his gaze on Serena, he replied in a firm voice, “And, no, there won’t be any shopping today.”

Her body straightened and she held his gaze. “Maybe not for you. We’ll be going though.”

He stepped closer to her, all lightness gone from his eyes. Nobody said no to J. “No, you won’t be, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widened. Serena wasn’t used to men like J, men who said no to her. And she certainly wasn’t used to being spoken to in a forceful tone like the one J had just used. She quickly looked to me for backup.

“J, I think we’ll be okay shopping. I highly doubt Nix will be out looking for us in a shopping mall.” I tried to reason with him.

He turned his head in my direction. Oh, shit. The look flashing in his eyes was not one I wanted to mess with. “Did you not fucking take in what I told you about Nix last night? Do you need to see those photos again or perhaps I should show them to Serena so she can fully appreciate what we’re dealing with here,” he fumed, reaching for his phone.

I held up my hand. “Stop! No, we don’t need to see those photos. We won’t go shopping.” I gave in, but I wasn’t happy that Nix had yet again managed to disrupt our lives.

He opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind before stalking out of the room without uttering another word.

“What the fuck, Madison?” Serena rounded on me.

I held up both my palms to silence her. “Not now, honey.” I paused for a moment to think, but nothing came. “Fuck it, I need a smoke!” I left in search of one.

Five minutes later, I was outside, smoke in one hand, phone in the other. I needed Blake.

He answered on the first ring. “How’s it going over there, baby girl?”

“Well, J’s telling us what we can and can’t do. Serena’s mad at both of us, and I’m hiding outside having a smoke. What does that tell you?”

“Do you want me to come over?”

This was what made Blake a superstar in my eyes. Even with his busy schedule at the restaurant, he was willing to drop everything for me. “No, don’t do that. I just needed to hear your voice; it always makes me feel better.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I sighed, and blew out a long breath of cigarette smoke. “I don’t want to go back, but I probably will just so I can make sure Crystal, my friend’s daughter, is okay.”

“Yeah, I get that. I would do the same thing.”

A loud bang sounded from inside the house. “Shit, Blake, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?” I said, putting my smoke out.

“Yeah, babe. Later,” he said, and hung up.

Heading inside, I yelled out, “What happened?”

I found them both in the laundry. Turned out the noise I’d heard was the dryer falling off the wall. “Bloody hell, how did that happen?” I asked.

Serena’s cheeks reddened. “I may have slammed the dryer door really hard and, as a result, the dryer may have fallen down.”

J stood with his back to me as he inspected the wall. God, I hoped he could fix this because our landlord would not be happy. He looked around at me. “I can fix this. But it’ll mean a trip for all of us to the hardware store.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “How did I know you were gonna say that,” she grumbled.

“Sure, just let me get dressed,” I said, and left them to bicker while I went to find some clothes.

Something told me we were in for one long ass day.

7

MADISON

THE TRIP to the hardware store was a torturous experience. Serena constantly took shots at J, who in turn, argued back. By the end of it, I was ready to stab myself in the eyes and cut my ears off; anything not to have to see or hear either of them.

I was thankful, however, that J managed to pick up all the supplies he would need to fix the mess in our laundry. He and I argued over the bill. In the end, he won and paid the bill. Men!

At home, J was busy being Mr. Handyman, while Serena and I were lounging in front of the television. I’d just filled her in on everything J had told me last night.

“Shit, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I sighed.

“Okay, so you want to check on Crystal. Yes?” Serena loved helping me solve my dramas.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“So, you go home for a visit. You check on your girl, you hang out with your family for a bit, you stay until they sort this Nix mess out. Then you come back here and live happily ever after.” She smiled, happy with her own advice.

I groaned out of frustration. “You make it sound so easy when it is as far from easy as anything could be. This shit with Nix could take a long time. I might kill my family if I have to stay that long. And what am I going to do about J?”

“Yeah, biker boy poses a problem,” she mused.

“I love how, after everything I just said, all you heard was the bit about J.”

“Oh no, honey, I heard it all. But the only problem in all of that was him.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

She smiled her wicked little smile. “I’d say that’s pretty obvious. You’re both still hot for each other so I’m worried about where that would lead.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Shit, I’m screwed, aren’t I?” I said, and then looking up, I continued, “I don’t understand my feelings. He broke my heart and yet, here I am, wanting him all over again. What is wrong with me?”

“You could just fuck him and get that out of your system,” she suggested.

I considered it for a moment. She was right. I could totally fuck J. It was what I did these days anyway – fuck and run. But would I... could I walk away, and be happy with just sex? Fuck it, this was the new me, the stronger me. The me who didn’t let a guy stomp on my heart anymore. Of course, I could do it. I smiled at Serena. “Thanks, babe. I might just do that.”

J FINISHED up in the laundry a few hours later. I was impressed with his work, as was Serena. She even appeared to warm to him a little, offering him a drink when he was finished.

“Thanks,” he said, when she made her offer, “And the next time you want to take your anger out on something, I’d suggest you choose a different target.”

She glared at him before leaving to get his drink. I rolled my eyes. “You like pissing her off, don’t you?” I said.

He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “She’s too easy to play with, babe.”

Before we could continue this conversation, his phone rang and he went outside to take the call. I traipsed into the kitchen in search of Serena.

“I might just throw this at him instead of giving it to him,” she muttered.

I laughed. “You do know he’s just playing with you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to play with him. He rubs me the wrong way.”

“Fair enough, honey. Do you want me to take him his drink?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, shoving it at me.

I took it from her and headed outside. J was still on his call when I got to him. He looked up and caught my gaze. There was no smile, but there was certainly some heat there. I watched as his eyes moved, slowly, hungrily, over my body while he continued his conversation. By the time his eyes found mine again, every nerve ending of mine had stirred with desire and my fingers ached to touch him. Butterflies danced in my stomach and my core clenched in anticipation. I wanted him. He ended his call, put his phone in his pocket, and walked to where I stood.

“That mine?” he asked, nodding at the glass.

“Yes.” I forced the word out as I handed him the drink. Bewildered from the way he’d undressed me with his eyes, I was having trouble thinking straight, let alone forming words.

He drank some water, but kept his eyes on mine the whole time. I didn’t know where this was heading, but I was beginning to feel completely exposed to him, like he was reading my thoughts, and desires.

Needing to put some space between us, I moved to leave but he reached out and grabbed my wrist. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

I avoided his eyes and, instead, focused on his hand holding my wrist. He let me go and put his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut; I didn’t want to look at him, and I really didn’t want to look inside myself for the answer to his question.

Instead, I jerked my hand out of his hold, and said, “It doesn’t mean anything, J.”

“You sure about that, babe?”

Determined not to hide away, I looked directly into his eyes. “Yes, I’m very sure,” I replied, even though I was pretty damn sure I was lying.

He contemplated me for a couple of moments, and then slowly nodded, like he’d settled something in his mind. Then he changed the subject. “Still no word on Nix’s whereabouts.”

“So we’re still on lockdown?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m pretty tired after not much sleep last night, so I’m going to have a nap,” I said. I also needed some time to myself; these unwanted desires and confused thoughts needed to go into lockdown too as far as I was concerned.

I left him outside and told my pussy to shut the hell up. She wasn’t getting any today.

I SLEPT ALL AFTERNOON, waking around dinner time. J and Serena had managed to not kill each other. In fact, they were in the kitchen, cooking dinner together when I found them.

I sat at the table and asked, “Have you two been playing nice?”

Serena poked her tongue out at me. “As a matter of fact, we have been. J changed the oil in my car and checked some other things too.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really? How did she convince you to do that?”

He smirked. “Let’s just say she had her ways.”

Serena flicked him with the tea towel, almost playfully. “You make it sound dirty, biker boy,” she said, and then directed at me, “I cooked cupcakes for him.”

I had to stop myself from laughing at that. “Where’s the mess from your cooking, honey?” I asked, surveying the almost-spotless kitchen. I was always the one who had to clean up her kitchen messes so I wondered who the heck had done this one.

“J cleaned it up,” Serena replied, and I didn’t fail to notice that she seemed kind of impressed about this.

J was a clever man; winning my friend over by doing things for her. I looked at him and found him watching me, smile in place. Yeah, he knew what he was doing all right. The only question was – why was he going to the effort?

THE REST of the weekend passed pretty uneventfully. J continued reporting that Nix hadn’t been found yet, so we stayed home all weekend, only heading out for food and movies. After a short-lived truce, Serena and J returned to their bickering. Because I knew J, I could tell he enjoyed it, and when I tried to point this out to Serena, she rolled her eyes and complained that he should go home. Having no experience of the world I’d grown up in, I didn’t think she realised just how dangerous Nix was. I shuddered to think what he would do if he found us, but I didn’t share this with her. J didn’t push the point either. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to keep things light; perhaps that was why he insisted on playing with Serena – to keep the focus off the reason why we were stuck at home.

Monday morning rolled around, and Serena and I had to go to work. J tried to talk me out of going, but I stood my ground, so at nine o’clock the three of us arrived at the boutique. I tried to convince him we’d be all right without a minder, but he refused to listen.

Gina, our boss, greeted us with a smirk. Eyeing J as he stood outside the shop, she said, “I heard you had a bodyguard but they never told me he was this hot.” Gina was Blake’s sister; he must have told her about J. She was a kickass boss and I loved her hard. Unfortunately, she had no filter and said whatever came to her in the moment.

“Yeah, sorry, he’ll be hanging out here today,” I apologised.

“No need to say sorry, darl. Frankly, you’ve made my day. I do love me some eye candy,” she said with a wink.

We got to work, restocking the shelves and cleaning while J stayed outside for most of the morning. He seemed busy on his phone and I was grateful I didn’t have to deal with him in the shop.

Being around him was hard; old feelings kept resurfacing and I alternated between hurt, anger and lust. Every now and then, I caught glimpses of the J I had loved, and those times were the hardest. They hit me fair in the chest. I wondered if he had a girlfriend currently. We hadn’t really even had a friendly conversation about our lives since he’d been here so I had no clue what he’d been up to over the last couple of years. Jealousy wrapped itself around my heart when I thought of him being with someone else.

I don’t want to know.

Fuck.

Who was I kidding? I had a desperate need to know these details of his life.

I mentally slapped myself. It was time to get my shit together.

“So, darl, have you decided if you’re going to head up to Brisbane?” Gina approached me.

I sighed. I hated this question. “I think I’m going to have to, even though I don’t want to. But I don’t want to leave you stuck for staff.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about me or the shop. We’ll sort something out. I just want to make sure you’re safe. And I want you to go tomorrow.”

My eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. You stay away as long as you need, and your job will be here when you come back,” she promised.

I gave her a huge hug. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best boss?”

“Oh, they don’t need to. I already know I am,” she replied, her eyes dancing with naughtiness. “Now, you go and have your lunch break and then Serena can have hers.”

I grabbed my purse and headed outside. J was on the phone, but saw me come outside and signalled for me to wait.

“I’m going to buy lunch, J. And I only get an hour so I don’t have a lot of time because the place where I buy lunch is always busy,” I said. He kept talking so I turned and walked towards the cafe where I always bought lunch. He could catch up.

I could hear him muttering something into the phone and then silence for a moment before he barked, “Madison!”

The last thing I wanted to do was stop for him, but there was something in his tone, a don’t-fuck-with-me command. So I halted my progress and turned back to him.

He stalked to where I waited. “Why the fuck do you have to be so difficult about this?” The vein in his neck pulsed and his hands clenched by his sides.

I stared at him, unsure where his harsh words came from. “About what? Waiting for you so I can buy lunch?”

Be expelled a long breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “No, about everything. I thought we were on the same page, but then you insist on working today and then you don’t wait for me to walk you to lunch. I’m just trying to keep you safe and you’re doing everything to make that hard.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the way Scott has gone about this. And the fact that he sent you.” I knew I was being irrational, but all my old hurt had resurfaced. Hurt that I’d never fully dealt with. Unfortunately it manifested itself as anger.

He flinched. It was only for a second, and most people wouldn’t have even noticed it. But I knew J, and I saw it. It surprised the hell out of me. “Well then, it looks like we’ve got some shit to sort out, babe, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want to sort shit out with you. That ship sailed two fucking years ago, J,” I spat.

He gripped my arm, pulling me closer. “No, it fucking didn’t,” he growled, eyes blazing, “And you can’t deny there’s still something here. I feel it and I know you feel it too.”

I laughed. No, actually, I cackled. “You wanna fuck, J? I can feel that, and yeah, if you wanna go there, I’m all for it. But don’t mistake my desire for your cock for anything else.”

He let me go, and looked at me with disgust. “When the fuck did you get so bitchy?”

I settled icy eyes on his. “The day you ripped my fucking heart out, asshole.” We glared at each other for a few moments and then I said, “Now, can we go and get lunch?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” he grit out, and I didn’t miss the way he said ‘sweetheart’, like I was the furthest thing from his sweetheart.

My heart cracked a little more, even though I didn’t think it was possible. And fuck him for that.

8

MADISON

I UNZIPPED MY bag and then answered my ringing phone, balancing it between my shoulder and ear so I could continue packing my clothes. It was Tuesday morning, and after talking it over with Serena and getting her opinion on the situation, I knew it was time to leave. J seemed immeasurably happy about this, as did Scott. I was yet to talk with my father about this, which surprised me. I figured he would have called by now. He usually had something to say about everything I did, or at least that was how it felt to me. Since moving to Coffs Harbour, I’d managed to lessen his involvement in my life and even my mother had stepped back and given me the space to live as I wished. She was the kind of woman who had to have a say in just about everything involving her family. The thought of returning to the club had caused me some sleepless nights. I’d fought hard for my independence and wasn’t about to give that up for anybody.

“Hello?” I answered the phone.

“Madison,” — it was Blake — “what time are you leaving?”

“Soon, honey. Have you got time to come over so I can say goodbye?” I really needed to see him before I left.

“I’ll be there,” he replied and we hung up.

I opened my closet and started throwing clothes into my bag.

Serena breezed in and sat on my bed watching me pack. “That man of yours is moody. I’ve been trying to make conversation but I give up,” she said.

“Let’s get something straight. He isn’t my man,” I said, as I finished packing.

“Why did you two break up?” she asked.

I sighed and sat down on the bed next to her. “There were a lot of reasons we broke up, but he was the one who ended it when I accused him of cheating on me. When I found out later that he didn’t cheat, I thought we might have had a chance at getting back together but stuff happened, and he told me to get out of the club, to leave town. He was done with me.”

“Fucker.” She rocked a dirty look – best friends were the shit. I loved that Serena never pressured me for more information than I was willing to give. Even though we’d been best friends for two years now, she’d never pushed me to talk about this stuff from my past. She knew I had been through something that I didn’t like to talk about, and knew that I had a messy breakup, but was happy enough to leave it at that.

“Yeah, fucker.” I grinned and hugged her. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

She hugged me hard and then pulled away. “I know. Me too. Maybe I could come and visit soon,” she said.

I shook my head. “I don’t think you should, honey. From what J and Scott have told me, it’s pretty messed up at the moment. I don’t want you getting mixed up in all of that.”

“Fuck that. I can’t leave my best girl alone when she needs me. I’m sure that J and his boys can look out for both of us.”

I laughed. “You’ve got no clue but I do love you. Now, get your ass off the bed and help me carry my stuff out of here.”

As we entered the living room, we ran into Blake who’d just walked through the front door. He pulled me into a hug and we stayed like that for a few moments. It would be tough leaving him as I’d come to depend upon him over the last two years. He was my voice of reason when my level of crazy hit epic proportions, and he was the steady influence in my life.

“You know where I am if you need me, baby girl,” he murmured in my ear and then let me go.

My eyes met his and I smiled at him, “Absolutely. You’d better keep your phone close all the time because I’m sure I’ll be calling you often. I’ll need you to talk some sense into me when I lose my shit. Okay?”

He nodded and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I mean it, Maddy, if you need me, I’m there.”

A phone started ringing and I looked around to catch J staring intently at Blake and me. He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, and I hadn’t heard him come in. It was his phone ringing but he wasn’t rushing to answer it.

“Are you going to get that?” I asked with a brow raise.

He stared at me for another moment before finally silencing the phone. “What?” he barked into it and walked back into the kitchen, away from us.

I turned back to Blake and Serena. “Are Rowan and Faith able to come and say goodbye?”

“No, they’re busy, but I think they’ll both give you a call later on,” Blake answered. He jerked his head towards J and asked, “What was that all about?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.” And I really didn’t. J could be a moody bastard and I figured he was just in one of his moods, especially because of what was happening with Nix and the club.

“Are you sure you want him to take you back home? I could drive you,” he offered.

“No, I’ll go with J,” I said quickly and Blake raised his eyebrows at me.

Shit. That was pretty eager of me. Fuck, this wasn’t good. I needed to keep my distance from J.

“No, maybe you could drive me.” I changed my mind and looked to Blake who was nodding in agreement.

“Madison is with me,” J growled, and I turned around to find him almost right behind me. He caught me by surprise and as I stumbled back a little, his hand shot out to catch me from falling. His arm snaked around my waist and he held me firmly. I looked up at him as he stepped closer to me; our breath mingled and my stomach clenched with that feeling of anticipation that I hadn’t known since we broke up. “You’ll ride with me. It’s safer,” he ordered.

“I think Madison can make her own mind up,” Blake retorted.

J tore his eyes from mine to glare at Blake. “Did you not fucking hear me the first time? She rides with me.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Blake snorted. “Madison is a grown woman and can make her own decisions.”

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” J challenged, and I realised it was time to cut in before this got out of hand. Blake was still being polite, probably for my sake, but if push came to shove, he wouldn’t hesitate to take J on.

I laid a hand on J’s chest and said to Blake, “It’s okay, I’ll ride with J. He’s right. With Nix off their radar it’ll be safer for me to stick with him.”

Blake and J continued glaring at each other, and I pushed on J’s chest and pulled myself out of his hold. “Are we going?” I asked him impatiently.

He looked away from Blake to me and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get our stuff and meet you outside.” With that, he gathered up our belongings and headed out to his bike, shooting Blake one last glare before he left.

“Like I said, moody,” Serena stated and looped her arm through mine as we followed him out. She turned her head to me with a wicked glint, “I bet he’s fucking intense in bed, right?”

“Oh, my God! We are not going there.” I shook my head in exasperation. Serena had a one track mind most days.

She laughed and I couldn’t help but join her; she really was the sunshine in my life.

I GRABBED Blake and Serena in a group hug. “I’ll call you once we’re there. Should be in about four or five hours.”

J was waiting for me on his bike. Sensing his impatience, I finished my goodbyes and climbed on behind him. Apart from the other night, it had been years since I’d been on the back of a bike and it felt good. I’d missed it. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I tried to wipe away the thoughts of just how good it felt to be on his bike. He pulled my hands together so I was holding him tighter and pleasure shot through my body at his touch. I wondered if he felt it too, but quickly dismissed that thought; after all, he was the one who hadn’t wanted to pursue a relationship again two years ago. I doubted he’d changed his mind.

We took off and I settled in for a long trip. It would give me some time to sort through my feelings about going home. And about J. After I moved, I’d never heard from him, and hadn’t intended to see him again. I didn’t want to want him again, but the heart can’t be led. I was trusting and hoping like hell that my heart knew J had the power to break me again.

9

JASON

I LEANED INTO the doorframe of the clubhouse bar, crossed my arms in front of me and settled back to watch the duel between Scott and Madison. We’d been back barely fifteen minutes and they were already at it.

“I don’t want you going to see Crystal now because I can’t go with you. I’ve gotta be somewhere else.” Scott’s body tensed as he argued with her. He and Madison had a long history of battles, both as stubborn as the other.

“I can take a prospect with me,” she suggested.

My eyes wandered down to her hips where she had placed her hands. She wore the tightest fucking jeans, and I figured all the assholes in the room were probably mentally undressing her. I wanted to tell them to all fuck off, but I had no right to those thoughts anymore.

Scott was pacing. Jesus Christ, if he was like this with his sister, what the fuck would he be like with an old lady? He didn’t do relationships and that was probably a good thing because his over protectiveness wouldn’t be appreciated by many women. I should fucking know. I had those tendencies too, and it had caused no end of problems between Madison and I when we were together.

“Fuck it,” Scott swore, and tipped his chin in my direction. “J will go with you then.”

I pushed off from my leaning spot and walked towards them. Madison swung around to face me, a frown on her face.

“J doesn’t have to go with me.” She looked wildly around the room until her gaze stopped on Stoney who sat in the corner. She jabbed a finger towards him. “Stoney can go with me.”

“I will go with you, Madison,” I growled. “Get your stuff and we can leave now.”

“Madison.” We all stopped and turned at the voice of our president. Marcus Cole was a commanding presence and I watched Madison shrink a little. She’d always had a difficult relationship with her father. He was a man used to being in control and unfortunately for him, had raised a daughter who was too much like him, so they were constantly arguing.

She composed herself. “Dad.”

“Go with J for fuck’s sake. Not sure why you have to always fucking argue with everything.” He could be a bastard sometimes and I squeezed my fists, itching to punch him for being so harsh to her.

“Nice to see you too,” she seethed.

Marcus ignored her and turned to me. “Take her to see Crystal and then bring her back here. I want her staying at the clubhouse until we find Nix.” With that, he strode out of the room without a backwards glance at Madison. Hurt crossed her face, and I fought the urge to pull her close and wrap my arms around her. Instead, I silently stayed where I was, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Nothing much changes around here, does it?” she asked no one in particular and threw her hands in the air. “Fuck! Is it any wonder I didn’t want to come home?” She directed this one at me.

Shit, I didn’t want to get into family fucking politics. It had been a long day and it wasn’t over yet. I pointed at the front door. “Time to go,” I said, walking towards it and then looked back over my shoulder at Scott. “I’ll check in with you later, see where we’re at.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Later, brother.”

MADISON

WELL, my father hadn’t changed much since I last saw him, still as controlling as ever. He and Scott were the same. How the hell was I going to get through this visit? And J, well, that was a whole other headache. The mixed signals he threw out gave me whiplash. One minute he acted as if being around me was a hardship and the next he looked at me like he used to.

I followed him outside and walked to his bike while he stopped and spoke with a guy I had never seen before. They discussed something in hushed tones and I could tell from J’s facial expressions that he wasn’t happy with whatever had been said. He muttered something at the guy before shaking his head at him in disgust. This couldn’t be good.

“What was that all about?” I asked as he approached me.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he dismissed me.

My blood boiled. “Why do you, Scott and Dad do that? Why can’t you just answer my questions rather than always dismissing them?”

J turned his angry eyes to me. “Not everything is about you, Madison. Seems to be something you still haven’t figured out.”

I flinched at his words and swallowed back my hurt. His anger felt undeserved. I’d changed a lot in the last two years but he seemed set on believing I was still the same person. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to explain where I was coming from. “Yes, I know that, but with what’s happening, I figured it might be about Nix. And that is about me.”

“Yeah, baby, that is about you,” he snapped back at me. “But this isn’t. Now get on the back of the bike and let’s go.”

Oh, no he didn’t. “What does that mean, J? The bit about that being about me.” There had been an ugly tone to his words that I didn’t like and I struggled to understand their origin.

He leant down into my face and the anger emanating from him stunned me. “Perhaps all of this shit wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t dated Nix.”

Tears threatened my eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that,” I whispered, staring at him in shock and confusion. He stayed bent and in my face, glaring at me while the hurt feelings and unsaid things from years ago sat painfully in the space between us.

Finally, he stood back and broke eye contact. “Crystal’s staying with Brooke, so be prepared for that.” He changed the subject just like that; just like he always used to do and it hurt just as much now as it had then.

BROOKE WAS J’S SISTER, and we had a long, hard history. Back in school we were close, but the year after we finished school, a misunderstanding had come between us. It was a silly misunderstanding, about a guy, and she’d hated me ever since. Bec, however, had remained friends with Brooke, so she’d continued to be a presence in my life. However, we did our best to keep out of each other’s way. When I started dating J, she’d been pissed off and had done her best to break us up. Brooke was the only family J had left after both their parents had died in a car accident and he was very close to her. She was his younger sister and he looked out for her and made sure she was always okay. When she began her campaign against us, it had almost worked because J always made excuses for her behaviour. I’d often felt like I came second to her and had threatened to walk away from the relationship a couple of times. It all came to a head about a year into our relationship and J had been forced to take a stance. He chose me, but it was always clear how much he loved Brooke, and from then on, I tried hard not to put him in the middle again. I think Brooke did the same because she stopped trying to separate us.

We pulled up at Brooke’s house about fifteen minutes later. J was still shitty, and stalked into the house ahead of me. I watched as he entered the building and greeted Brooke. She looked past him at me, her face a blank mask. I was surprised when she gave me a tight smile and gestured for me to come in.

“Madison, how are you?” she asked as I came through the front door.

Well, shit, I could make small talk too. “I’m okay. And you?”

Before she could answer, Crystal came running into the room. “Madison!” She threw herself into my arms and I was overcome with emotion. I bent down and wrapped her in my arms, smoothing her hair and pressing my lips to her forehead. My heart broke a little more for her and I fought back the tears. I struggled with the knowledge that this beautiful child was now alone in the world, and I was annoyed at myself for not coming to see her sooner.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, holding her a moment longer, and then I pulled away to take in her eyes. They betrayed her confusion, her loss and her heartbreak. If I was upset before, I was murderous now. How dare Nix take away her family? I kissed her again and then stood, keeping my arm around her.

J was watching me intently; his pissed off mood somewhat abated. He knelt in front of Crystal. “How would you like us to stay for dinner tonight, angel?” he asked as he ran his hand over her hair in a soothing gesture. “We could order in your favourite.”

He was gentle with her and my heart skipped a beat. It reminded me there was a softer side to J – in there somewhere, under all that rough biker bullshit.

Crystal nodded at him. “My favourite is pizza,” she said, her voice timid.

J smiled at her and said, “Okay, I’ll order that. You go and sit with Madison while Brooke and I organise dinner.” His tenderness was killing me. He was so hot and cold; one minute so angry with me that he was saying shit I didn’t know he had in him, and then this, this sweet talk to a child.

He stood and motioned for Brooke to follow him into the kitchen, leaving Crystal and I alone to talk. I hadn’t seen her in over three years, but before that we had been almost as close as a mother and daughter. Bec had been raising her kids on her own and I was her support, helping her out with money, babysitting and anything else she needed. Coming back into Crystal’s life now, after three years, I had been worried she might not remember me but I was relieved that she did.

I took her hand and led her to the couch. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you. Not only now but also for the last few years. Things happened, and your Mum and I—”

She cut me off. “Mum told me that she never wanted to see you again. I know it wasn’t you who didn’t want to see me.” Her voice broke up as she got her last few words out and her shoulders drooped. Tears began pooling in her sad, green eyes and my chest ached at her grief.

I nodded. “I need you to know that I am here for you now, baby. I won’t leave you alone. Do you understand that?”

She started crying and I used every ounce of control to stay strong for her. The last thing she needed was me crying with her; instead, she needed to know I was strong enough for the both of us, that I would get her through this. I pulled her to me and hugged her, letting her cry. Crystal had always been a tough little girl, fiercely independent and I hadn’t seen her cry much over the years. She tended to bottle her feelings up and tried not to let us see what she was going through. I was sure it was her way of coping with all the crazy shit she had witnessed in her life. Bec had been as good a mother as she could be, but the men she had been involved with had often brought the crazy to her life and, as a result, the kids felt it too. Having grown up in the club lifestyle myself, I could always see why Crystal shut herself off like that because I had done the same as a child.

We sat there quietly and I held her close while she sobbed. I wondered if this was the first time she had let herself feel her grief. A week earlier, she had her family. Now she had no one. No one but me and a club of bikers who would, I guessed, do anything to protect her. In that moment, I knew I would make damn sure they protected her. Even if it meant moving back here; the place I had sworn never to return to.

DINNER WAS STRAINED BUT BROOKE, J and I did our best to keep it friendly for Crystal’s sake. After dinner, we moved back to the living room and watched some television. Crystal was subdued and fairly exhausted so Brooke suggested she have a shower and go to bed early. She agreed and headed off to the bathroom while Brooke went to clean up the kitchen. This left J and I alone, and we sat in silence watching the television. I had no idea what we were watching because my mind was racing with so many questions; not only about Crystal but also about him and me. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his angry outburst earlier.

I looked over at him and found him watching me. He didn’t break eye contact, just continued to watch me. My stomach tensed as unease washed over me; I didn’t know what he was thinking anymore. When we were together, I used to be able to read him most of the time, but over two years later, I had no idea of the thoughts running through his mind. Hell, maybe I never knew him as well as I thought I did. He had, after all, told me to leave right when I thought we had a chance to be together again.

I finally broke the silence. “Have you guys found Nix yet?” I went with an easy question.

“No, but Scott’s got a lead so he’s chasing that up tonight,” he answered, eyes still firmly on mine.

“What’s the plan for Crystal? Do you think she’s safe here?”

He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed. “We’ve got two guys watching the house. We’re doing what we can to keep her safe.”

“How long will she stay here with Brooke?”

“She’ll be living with Brooke now. It was what Bec wanted,” he said quietly, as he watched for my reaction. He would have known what was to come.

I shot out of the chair. “What the fuck, J? Why would she do that?”

He reacted sharply, standing and grabbing my arm. “Keep your voice down, Madison,” he snapped. “Bec and Brooke were close after you left. It’s definitely what she wanted.”

I yanked my arm out of his grip. “Well, I’m going to be around to help so Brooke will just have to deal with that.”

His eyes widened. “You’re staying? For good?”

I nodded. “Yes.” I’d been grappling with the decision, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was the right one. A sense of peace settled within me.

Tension thickened in the air as J silently watched me.

He doesn’t want me to stay.

That hurt.

Deep.

And it shouldn’t have.

God, why am I even allowing what he thinks to upset me? I’ve moved on. I don’t care what he thinks anymore.

I pushed my shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Yes, J, like it or not, I’m staying so you’d better get used to it.” Without waiting for his response, I walked outside, in desperate need of a moment to myself to clear my head.

TEN MINUTES LATER, I was considerably calmer after giving myself a pep talk. J was smart enough to give me that space. I’d taken a step towards the house to head back inside when he came out.

“You’ve missed a call,” he said, handing me my phone before going back inside.

I checked to see who had called and smiled when I saw it was Serena. Shit, I was supposed to call her when we arrived. I called her back and waited for her to answer.

“Bitch, I was worried!” she chastised me.

“Honey, calm down. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I got side-tracked by Scott and Dad, who are being their usual bossy selves. And, don’t get me started on J.”

“Oh, please do get started on J,” she quipped.

I laughed and just like that, she broke through my anger and hurt and reminded me how much I needed her in my life. “He’s making me crazy!”

“Mmmm, what’s he doing? Besides getting your girl bits in a tizz?”

“He said that if I hadn’t dated Nix, none of this would be happening.” I answered her, the words tearing at my heart.

“Wow. Holy shit. He might be a hot guy but what an asshole. I hope you told him where to go.”

“He caught me off guard. I never expected him to say something like that to me. He’s confusing the hell out of me. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

“Just keep him at a distance, okay. Do what you went there to do, and then you can come home and forget all about him again.”

I paused for a moment and then sighed. “I wish I could, honey, but I’ve made a decision. I’m going to move back here to be close to Crystal and look out for her.”

“I thought you might decide to do that. You’re a good woman, Madison Cole, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, especially not J,” she said, and I loved her a little more for her unconditional support.

“I’m going to miss you. Maybe you should move here too,” I said, meaning every word.

“Never say never, huh. Gonna visit you real soon, though,” she replied, “And I’ll kick J’s ass if he’s being a fucker to you.”

I had no doubt about that. “Okay, I’d better go. Can you tell Blake I’ll call him tomorrow? I love you, honey.”

“Will do. Love you, too, girl,” she said and hung up.

I went back inside, hoping to say goodbye to Crystal and convince J to take me back to the clubhouse. I didn’t want to hang around Brooke’s for much longer.

Brooke and Crystal were back in the living room with J, and they were all laughing at something on the television. J looked over at me and then tapped Crystal on the shoulder. “Say goodnight to Madison, angel. We have to go in a minute,” he said, and I was relieved he had the same plans as I did.

Crystal gave me a long hug and I whispered in her ear, “I love you, baby girl, and I’ll be back to see you soon.”

She kissed me and then left with Brooke to go to bed. Brooke nodded at me as they left the room. I wasn’t sure what that meant but she didn’t seem to be as hostile towards me as I thought she would be.

“You ready to go?” J asked, without as much as a glance in my direction. He was already heading towards the front door, my answer clearly not even important.

I didn’t bother answering him, simply followed him out to his bike. Without uttering a word to each other, we rode back to the clubhouse and my resolve to stay away from him strengthened.

10

JASON

I COLLAPSED ONTO THE BED, thankful as fuck the day was over. I didn’t have it in me to bother heading home so I crashed in my room at the clubhouse. The ride home from Coffs Harbour had been long, probably because I couldn’t concentrate with my dick doing the fucking happy dance that Madison’s tits and pussy were pressed tight to me. It had been just over four hours of torturous bliss; her on the back of my bike again was something I had never thought would happen, but I was sure as fuck glad it did.

And then she had gone and pissed me off, and I’d said stuff I wished I could take back because I didn’t really mean it. Fuck, I had really hurt her. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. Maybe it was my way of pushing her away. There was that old familiar pull to her and I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to even consider getting close again. But, fuck, I just had to be in the same room as her, and I wanted to touch her and bury my dick as far in her as I could.

Watching her get into an argument with Scott and then listening to her tell me off had been both infuriating and a relief. It was good to see the old Madison back. She had slowly disappeared on me after the incident with Rob all those years ago, and the drinking only made it worse. It had fucking killed me to see her lose her spark. Madison was the kind of woman who didn’t let any man walk all over her, and after we broke up, I’d been horrified watching her allow Nix to control her.

The night I found her beaten up was one of the worst nights of my life. If I hadn’t let her go, hadn’t given up on us, she wouldn’t have ended up with Nix and he wouldn’t have laid a finger on her. I had sworn death after that and had meant it. Scott and her father had been with me on this, but then club politics got in the way. If we’d followed through on our threat, it would have ended in all-out war between Storm and the Black Deeds, and our club wasn’t ready for that back then. We’d spent the last two years getting our shit in order, getting ready to strike and take the fucker down. Getting Madison out of the picture had been an important part of this plan, even though I hadn’t agreed with it at first. I’d wanted her back with me, where she belonged, but Scott had ordered me to make sure she left town. I’d done this all right; I’d killed any love she might have had left for me the day I told her to get the fuck out; the day I told her I didn’t love her anymore.

Seeing the difference in her, knew we’d done the right thing. When she left, she’d been drowning in alcohol. I hated watching her do that to herself; I felt useless, unable to make her see what she was doing. My mother had done the same thing and it was like watching re-runs of shitty television; seeing the same old crap over and over, hating it more each time. Madison finally had her life together so it made the last couple of years’ worth it, even if she didn’t want anything to do with me.

I was almost asleep when Scott bashed on my door. “J, need you, man.”

“Fuck! Really?” I yelled back. It was just after midnight and I was wiped.

“Yeah, need you to check on Madison,” he replied.

Shit, just the sound of her name stirred me. I sat up and reached for my boots. “Hang on, be there in a minute.”

Scott was pacing at the bar when I found him. He looked up and I was instantly alert. Scott was known for keeping his shit together, but he looked stressed.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

He stopped pacing and raked his fingers through his hair. “Davey was keeping an eye on Madison but she ditched him. I’ve got no fuckin’ idea where she is.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I roared. “What the fuck is wrong with these dickheads? They can’t even do a simple job.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “Yeah, brother. That leaves you and me to find her. I don’t trust anyone else.”

“Got any leads at all?” I asked, hoping like hell that he did.

“No. This is a fuckin’ nightmare because Nix has shown back up in town.”

Fuck! Not what I wanted to hear. Needing to lash out at something, anything, I turned around and punched the closest wall. Davey was fucking lucky that he wasn’t in sight because I would have pounded him if he was.

Scott’s phone rang, and while he answered it, I mentally filed through a list of Madison’s old friends trying to work out where she might have gone. I came up short because she had wiped a lot of her friends when she was with Nix.

“Right, Madison might be at Hyde’s.” He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Let’s go.” He headed towards the front door.

I reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him around to face me. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? Not even twenty-four hours home and she starts fucking drinking again?” I was pissed. Pissed at her, at Nix, and at the whole fucking situation. Hyde’s was her old favourite drinking ground, and the last place I thought she would be.

Scott pulled his arm back and snapped at me, “How ‘bout you give her a break? She might surprise the fuck out of you.”

“Yeah, and she might fucking not.” I fixed an angry glare on him. “I’ve lived with, and buried an alcoholic, motherfucker. I know how they work.” I pushed past him and stormed outside. I was in a really bad mood, and when we found Madison, she wasn’t going to know what fucking hit her, especially if we found her drinking.

AN HOUR LATER, we still hadn’t found her. I was surprised but relieved not to find her at Hyde’s; I didn’t want to think about how I would have reacted if we had found her there. We visited some of her old friends, and pissed them all off by waking them up. But none of them had seen her or heard from her. Scott was ropeable and I was pretty close. Then we got a call from Griff; Madison had shown up at the clubhouse.

We made our way back, and as I stormed into the bar, I noted her tear-stained face, but paid no attention to it. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards me. “Have you any fucking idea how worried we have been?” I yelled at her.

She crumbled into my arms and started to sob. My reaction was automatic; I held her close, running my hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. The anger left me, and I felt the need to make everything all right for her. “Where were you, baby?” I asked.

She didn’t answer me and Scott barked at her, “Answer us, Madison. Where the fuck were you?”

I looked up at him, anger burning through me again, but this time directed at him. “Back the fuck off, brother. In fact, everyone get the fuck out of here,” I bellowed, and when no one moved, I added, “Now!”

People started moving out of the room and Scott stood there glaring at me for a minute or so, and then he left too.

I pulled back a little from Madison, to look in her eyes, “Baby, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Her eyes slid to mine and the heartache I saw there stabbed me in the fucking heart. “I went to Bec’s house. I just sat outside and remembered stuff, you know, the good times we’d had, even the bad. J, I miss her so much. I can’t believe she’s gone. Even though we weren’t friends anymore, I always thought we’d patch it up.” Tears streamed down her face.

“Fuck.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was useless at this shit, so I just pulled her close again and held her, letting her get it all out.

Eventually, she unwrapped her arms from me and wiped the tears from her face. “Sorry. I guess it is really hitting me, now that I’m back here,” she apologised.

“No need to say sorry. But the next time you want to take off, for fuck’s sake, let one of us know where you’re going. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I doubted she meant it. Madison did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. “Nix is back, apparently. That’s why we were all so pissed at you. Plus, and you might find this hard to believe, we all care about you.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, appraising me, and then she offered, “Thank you. I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.”

She left and I stood in stunned silence. She had surprised the fuck out of me and I hated to admit it, but my heart was starting to want what my dick wanted.

11

MADISON

I WOKE UP the next morning feeling low. Remembering Bec the previous night had been hard and I was thankful that J had been there for me when I got back. That was a difficult thing to admit to myself. I just wanted to hate him and not have anything to do with him, but then he had to go and be nice to me. And the things he did to my body. God, I was so messed up about him. He’d been back in my life for less than a week, yet there I was, wanting him all over again.

I decided to put thoughts of J aside and focus on my plan to move back. First order of business would be to call Gina and let her know I wouldn’t be coming back to work. Thank goodness I’d saved some money to get me through until I found a new job.

I grabbed my phone and dialled her number. “Hi, babe,” she answered.

“Hey, Gina. I have some bad news for you.” I decided to get straight to the point.

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

“I’m so sorry to do this at such short notice but no, I am staying here. My friend’s kid needs me,” I answered her, really regretting having to do this to her.

“I understand, and actually wondered if you might end up staying. You’re just lucky I love you; otherwise, I would send Zane after you,” she threatened, but I heard the smile in her voice.

I shuddered at that thought. Zane was Blake and Gina’s brother, and a man you didn’t mess with. I’d only met him a few times and he scared the living shit out of me. I never asked Gina or Blake much about him because I really just didn’t want to know who or what he was.

We chatted a bit more and I promised to visit her often before hanging up. I scrolled through my phone and hit Blake’s number.

“Baby girl, how are you?” he said as he answered his phone.

“Have you got a few hours?” I asked, jokingly.

He chuckled. “That bad? Do you need me to come and sort shit out?”

“I appreciate that, but no. You’ve got your own things to take care of and I’m a big girl; it’s time for me to sort out everything I walked away from years ago.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. How’s J? Still being a caveman?” I could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“J will always be a caveman. It’s just who he is. I’m so confused about him, Blake.” I decided that perhaps a guy’s perspective might be insightful.

“In what way?”

I hadn’t ever told my friends much about my relationship with J so I figured it was time to open up a bit, especially if I wanted advice. “I left Brisbane because he told me to. We’d been broken up for about six months but I thought we were going to get back together, and then he told me he didn’t love me anymore and that I needed to leave. He was the one who lined my job up with Gina, through another club member who knew her, I think. He said I needed space from the club to get my drinking sorted. He broke my heart but I thought I was over him. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know what the fuck to make of it all.”

“Talk to him. But you need to work out what you want first,” he said.

“You’re such a guy, Blake. You make it sound so easy.” I sighed. Why did guys think that every situation was so black and white?

“Well, why do women make everything so hard?” he asked.

“We don’t!”

He laughed. “Yeah, you do. We’ll have to agree to disagree. Just promise me you’ll talk to him.”

“I’ll try, but all we seem to do is argue, so it might not be as easy as you suggest.”

“Show him a bit of leg. It’ll shut him up for a minute and give you time to talk,” he suggested.

It was my turn to laugh. “Great plan, maybe I’ll flash my tits too, you know, to give me even more time.”

“Settle down, you want him to be coherent, don’t you? Flashing your tits will send all the blood from his brain to his dick. Take my advice, no tits.”

“Okay, legs it is. Now, did Serena tell you that I’m moving back here?” I asked, and we talked some more about my move and what was going on in his life before ending the call. I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of us made the trip to visit the other; we couldn’t go too long without needing to see each other.

“MADISON, good to see you, babe.”

I’d made my way downstairs to the club bar. Turning towards the voice I knew so well, I threw myself at him. “Nash, I’ve missed you,” I said as we hugged.

“You’re still as fucking hot as you were last time I saw you,” he said, looking me up and down.

“And you’re still as fucking pervy as you were last time I saw you.” I slapped him on the arm, all the while smiling at him.

He grinned that wicked smile I remembered and shrugged. “Yep, and still the hot ass you missed out on when you chose that fucker, J.”

Now it was my turn to grin at him. “Didn’t know what I was getting myself into there, did I? And to think I could have had you.”

“Fucker’s still got a hard-on for you, too. He’s got pussy anywhere he wants but none of it does what you did for him,” Nash said, shaking his head.

What the fuck? My mouth dropped open in shock, and I was about to quiz him when we were interrupted.

“Nash,” J’s voice boomed from behind me and I spun around to see him shooting daggers at Nash. Oh, God, I felt bad for Nash. He and J had always had a hard relationship and J had never taken kindly to Nash’s flirting with me.

Nash leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of here.” He kissed my cheek, winked at me and said, “Later, sweet thing.” He lifted his chin at J and then left us alone.

J walked toward me with a fierce determination and my stomach fluttered. He had a feral look in his eyes and, fuck, it did things to me. “He’s right,” he said as he stopped right in front of me; so close, too close.

My brain couldn’t function properly when he was so close to me. His smell engulfed me and I wanted to reach out to touch him, taste him. It was too much and I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. Our bodies touched and I felt it not only physically, but also in my soul. He bent and breathed in the scent of me too. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.” He groaned as he pressed even closer so that I could feel his erection against me.

My body took over and I reached my hand up to wrap around his neck while lifting my lips to his. Our eyes met and I could see the same need in his that I had. His arms encircled me, and he ran one hand over my ass before tilting his head and finally kissing me. God, it felt so good. With his hands roaming over me, his lips and tongue devouring me, a thrill ran through me. A deep and uncontrollable urge took over and I pushed myself right into him; I needed to get as close as I possibly could. My hands gripped his hair and I plunged my tongue into his mouth, kissing him hard. He groaned again and that sound set me off even more. Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of him. It had been so long without his touch. I needed more.

J suddenly pushed me away and raked his hand through his hair, looking utterly torn. “Fuck!” he sputtered.

I was still trying to get my wits about me, my brain scrambling from that kiss, and I was confused about what Nash had said. Keeping my mouth shut would never get me answers. Looking J dead in the eyes, I demanded, “What did Nash mean by that?”

“Exactly what he fucking said, babe.”

I scrunched my eyebrows together, still not getting it. “You still want me?”

“Jesus, how many other ways do you need it said? I never stopped wanting you,” he replied in a gruff voice.

I threw my hands up in the air. “Well, why the fuck did you tell me to leave?” I yelled, my anger growing.

“You needed to get out, get away from the club and all the shit that had gone down. You needed to deal with your drinking and I thought you could do that better somewhere else.”

“No! You don’t get to say that. That’s a load of shit, J. Tell me the real fucking reason.” Deep down, I knew there had to be more. I always had but it was easier just to let it sit there in my subconscious rather than trying to work it out.

He was exasperated by my outburst and I momentarily wondered if I had pushed him too far. “I had to. The club…” he paced wildly, “…the club needed you gone.”

“What?” I held my breath, waiting for his explanation. None of this was making any sense .

He stopped pacing and fixed pained eyes on me; he was calmer now too, like he had settled something in his mind. “Baby, you need to know that I never wanted you to leave. But after what happened with Nix, the club swore blood, and we needed you gone to be able to do that. There was no way Nix would give you up if you were still here so we arranged for that job with Gina and sent you away.” He came closer to me again and reached for my hand, holding it. “The only reason I told you that I didn’t love you anymore was to make sure you would leave. I did it for your safety. You’ve gotta know that. I did love you. I still fucking do.”

“No! You said you didn’t want me. I moved on!” I shouted, getting in his face. I was really angry now. How dare the club control my life like that, and how dare he give me up for the fucking club.

“Are you listening to me, Madison? Did you hear me say—”

I cut him off and shoved at him. “It’s too fucking late, J. You gave up on us. You took the club’s side like you always did. I didn’t need revenge on Nix. I just needed out from him and I was out.”

J glowered at me and took a step back. “Let’s get one thing straight, right now. I did not give up on us. And I did not fucking take the club’s side every time,” he thundered. “But babe, you’ve gotta understand that when the club rules like they did, I got no choice.”

I stabbed a finger at him. “And that right there is the fucking problem! We never had a chance with the club controlling us.”

“Madison, the club ruled and I followed through. Jesus, babe, you grew up in the club, you know how it works. Our problems weren’t to do with the club.”

“Well, the club had a lot to do with them. The club and its way of dealing with shit.”

He cocked his head to the side and studied me for a moment. “What exactly are we talking about now?” he asked, and I wished I had kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to have this conversation today.

“J, this conversation is pointless—”

He came closer to me again, his breathing ragged and his face a picture of anger. Bending down to meet my eyes, he spat, “I fucking tell you that I still love you, and you tell me this conversation is pointless?”

And just like that, the anger seeped out of me and all I felt was desire. J had invaded my space and my senses again, and telling me he still loved me only heightened my craving for him. I knew I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t think straight when he was so close. I really needed to sort through my conflicting thoughts and feelings.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Madison. Is this conversation pointless?”

“I don’t know, J, okay. I need some time to think,” I finally answered him.

He stood up straight, his eyes intense and focused on mine. He took a moment and then said, “I’ll give you some time. But then we talk. And babe, we will talk about every fucking thing we should have talked about two years ago.”

With that, he turned and left me alone; alone to contemplate the conversation that we would finally be having. He was absolutely right. There were things that should have been said all those years ago; things that I still found hard to even think about, let alone talk about.

Shit.

But first, I needed to sort out the mess of feelings I was having about J. Why the fuck couldn’t life ever be easy?

12

MADISON

THE DAY PASSED FAIRLY UNEVENTFULLY after my run in with J. He left with Scott and some of the other guys to take care of something. I wasn’t sure what it was they were doing but then again, I was never privy to that sort of information. And, yeah, it pissed me off. That was something that J never understood. He never shared club business with me, unlike some of the other club members who talked stuff through with their old ladies. I had wanted to be involved in J’s life fully and that meant club life as well. I didn’t expect to be told everything, but to be told nothing kind of hurt. It made me feel like I was only a part of some of J’s life.

Hanging out at the clubhouse for most of the morning, I caught up with friends I hadn’t seen in years. I loved that aspect of club life, the social side. These were my people; I had grown up here and felt totally comfortable. I loved living in Coffs Harbour but there was something peaceful about coming home to where I was accepted and loved without reservation.

After lunch, I headed to visit my mum. My parents lived about twenty minutes away so one of the guys took me. As we pulled up to the house, I was hit with the memories of growing up. Mum and Dad had given Scott and I a good life. We had been surrounded by lots of love in the form of club family. I remembered tons of get togethers with the boys and their families; parties, barbeques, you name it, my mum was always organising something. My dad may have been the club president, but my mother played a huge part in keeping it all together and running smoothly. I didn’t know how aware she was of the day-to-day business of the club but I truly believed that she was the strong woman who stood behind my father and supported him in everything he did.

Sharon Cole was a woman who most people tried not to mess with. She was a hard-as-nails, straight-up, ballsy woman who loved fiercely, and lived and breathed Storm. Her father had been a member of Storm, and she too had grown up in the life. She had met my father when he joined the club and the rest was history. They had been through a lot and had built Storm up to be the club it was today: a force to be reckoned with. Storm had a reputation for getting the job done and it was a club that others didn’t fuck with, although that reputation had really only come about over the last few years.

Even though I hadn’t had much to do with Storm since I left, I had heard whisperings from friends about the lengths the club would go to in order to protect its business dealings, its members and their loved ones. As much as I wasn’t aware of within the club, I wasn’t naïve; I had seen enough to know there was a lot of violence involved, and it seemed that this had only intensified. I struggled with that when I dated J; he had sometimes come home bloodied and bruised, and when I asked about it, he always told me it was club business and I didn’t need to know. Thinking about my mother, I wondered how she dealt with that side of Storm. We had never talked about it but perhaps it was something I needed to ask her; perhaps learning how to deal with it would help me move past what had happened with Rob.

I never knew just what J was capable of until Rob. I shuddered thinking about it, but the thing was, I had to think about it. I had pushed it to the deep recesses of my mind for too long. It had everything to do with why J and I broke up, so in order for me to start sorting through my feelings about him, I needed to work through that first.

“SO, I hear you’re staying,” Mum said as she made us coffee. She had been happy to see me and I could hear the relief in her voice.

I smiled; it was so good to see her. “Yes.” I took a moment to get the words out right. “I haven’t wanted to come back because I wasn’t sure how I would cope with everything here. I thought that seeing J again would he hard and, to be honest, I was trying to get away from the club. But you know what? I think I’ve missed the club and even though he’s pissing me off, I’m okay with being around J.”

She nodded. “You were in a pretty bad way when you left, Maddy, but I think you just needed that time away to get your head together. It’s done you good, honey.”

“I want to stay so I can watch out for Crystal, but being here with you now, I realise I’ve really missed you, even if you are overbearing sometimes,” I said with a cheeky smile.

Mum laughed. “I’ve been good lately, haven’t I?” she asked.

“Yeah, Mum, you have. And I need you to let me do things my way if I’ve any chance of starting over here and keeping my shit together. Okay?”

She held up her hands. “Okay, okay. So, what’s your plan? Do you want to move in here with us until you sort yourself out? I know your father would love to have you here.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it. He bit my head off yesterday.”

“He is very stressed at the moment with what is happening with Nix. Honey, he’s been worried about you and, yeah, pissed off with you. He just wanted you home where he knew you were safe and all you did was fight it. He and Scott have been constantly arguing about you and I’ve got to say, it’s been pretty hard living with him the last little while. So, I am really happy you are home.”

“What do you mean they’ve been arguing about me?” I asked, having no clue what she could possibly mean.

“Your father would have just come and dragged you home, nothing would have stopped him. But Scott stood up to him and argued that it had to be your decision. He understands how hard it’s been for you, and he was so proud of you for quitting drinking; he just didn’t want you to go backwards.”

Well, fuck me. Scott was actually on my side. News to me. “Men! I can’t fucking work them out,” I said, totally exasperated with it all.

“Join the club, but I’ll tell you one thing, and you make sure you listen closely. Scott and your father love you and will do anything for you. This vendetta against Nix started after he beat you, and it has only gotten worse since then. It’s put a lot of pressure on Storm and they’ve copped that. For you. So, you need to cut them some slack and start working with them rather than against them.”

“The problem is that they never give me the full story. You know what they’re like—”

She cut me off, “Yes, I know exactly what they’re like, Madison, but the difference between you and me is that I trust them. I know in my gut that everything they’re doing is for us and for the club. I don’t need to know the details, but you seem hell bent on having to know every little thing. And you haven’t ever given them your complete trust. Dare I say it, but I think that’s where a lot of your problems with J come from too; you didn’t trust him.”

“How can I trust any of them when they don’t trust me enough to tell me stuff?” I argued.

My mother sighed; that sigh I had grown up with that told me she was becoming frustrated with me. “Honey, it’s their way. The club way. It’s what their fathers did and their fathers before them probably; it’s all they’ve ever known and it’s drilled into them when they join. What happens in the club stays in the club. And if you can’t live with that, you should never date another member again.”

My natural reaction to all of this would normally be to continue arguing but I decided that perhaps it was time to start listening to my mother. She’d been living this life for a long time and knew what she was on about. I’d been fighting these ways for so long, yet it got me nowhere. So, I took a deep breath and asked her a question. “How do you live with the shit that goes on? How do you deal, knowing what Dad is capable of?”

She didn’t skip a beat. “We’re all capable of bad stuff, Maddy, but the shit they do is done for a reason. We’ve got a lifestyle that needs protecting, and your dad and the boys aren’t afraid to protect it or us. I deal with that by choosing to love your father unconditionally and I make no apologies for it. When you really love a person, you trust them, and believe in them and everything they do.” She cocked her head and gave me a quizzical look. “Are you thinking of getting back with J? Is that what all this is about?”

“I don’t know what’s happening with J. What I do know is that I need to find a way to be okay with what they do.” And yeah, I also needed to decide if I wanted to be with J again, but I was keeping that to myself.

“Nothing’s fucking happening with J.” We both jumped as the snarl of Nix’s voice swept through the room.

I screamed just as one of his guys grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with his hand. Fear sliced through me, and the stench of sweat and tobacco overwhelmed me. Nausea hit and then the blackness took over.

WHEN I CAME TO, I was tied to a chair and Nix stood in front of me, leaning down into my face. His hot, acrid breath filled my senses. His eyes were crazy; fuck, he was crazy. Mad. Demented.

Panic gripped my gut. I knew in that instant that I was as good as dead.

He ran a calloused finger down my cheek. “Madison, you came back to me.”

Oh, God. He really was whacked in the head if he thought that. I didn’t say anything, just maintained eye contact with him.

He stood up straight and my eyes followed him. He looked to his right, and I realised that my mother was also here, tied to a chair. She had tape covering her mouth and blood coming from her head. I was lucky to avoid all that. Her eyes were closed and she was slumped in her chair.

Nix nodded at a guy who was near my mum. A silent command flowed between them, and the guy hurried off. My foggy brain slowed my thinking and I gave up wondering what that was all about.

Nix turned his attention back to me. “I’ve missed you, Madison. Bec kept me company for a while, but she could never replace you or what we had. That bitch tried to fuck me over.” He was rambling, and then he laughed shrilly. “She got what she fucking deserved in the end.” His eyes glinted. he was terrifying me, just from his body language.

I didn’t want to talk to him, but I couldn’t stop myself; I just hope my voice didn’t quiver, giving away my fear. “What are you going to do to us, Nix?” I needed to know.

“I haven’t quite worked out what I will do with you, but your mother is an unnecessary burden to us, wouldn’t you say? She wouldn’t stop yelling at me before, so I had to fucking knock her out. I don’t need the headache,” he replied. Nausea hit me at the thought of him killing my mum.

“Let her go and I’ll do whatever you say,” I frantically tried to negotiate with him.

He threw his head back and laughed. Then his face contorted into an evil mask and he sneered, “You’ll do whatever the fuck I say anyway, bitch. I’m not fucking bargaining with you for anything.”

I hated him, but hated myself more for letting him into my life. Because of my past actions, my mother’s life was in danger and there was not a fucking thing I could do about it.

JASON

MY FIST CONNECTED with the asshole’s cheek and blood went flying. “I can keep this up, motherfucker, until you tell us where Nix is,” I warned.

He landed on his ass and looked up at me through feral eyes. “Go to fucking hell,” he snarled and spat blood onto the ground.

Scott reefed him up from behind and held him in front of me. “Take another shot, brother,” he invited.

I had enough and was way past pissed off. We’d been going at this for over half an hour and it was time to move it along. I pulled out my gun and stepped closer, putting it to his head. “I’ll make this real fucking easy for you. Start fucking talking,” I thundered.

He glared at me but saw him weakening under the pressure so when he again refused to give up the information, I aimed the gun at his foot and shot. I took great pleasure in the blood this caused. I craved their fucking blood.

“Motherfucker!” he screamed in agony, and tried to struggle out of Scott’s hold.

Oh, yeah, asshole, I was just getting started. I lifted the gun and aimed it at his other foot, and was just about to shoot when he yelled, “Wait! I’ll tell you. Just fucking stop shooting!”

“Well, hurry the fuck up. We don’t have all day,” I bellowed at him, trying to create some fucking urgency for him to deliver the details.

“Warehouse on Woods,” he grumbled, and the adrenaline coursed through me with this new information. We were finally going to get that cocksucker. He’d been one step ahead of us for too fucking long; it was time to take him down.

Scott flashed me an evil grin. “Time to rock and roll, brother.”

TEN MINUTES later we were heading to the warehouse. Scott had called Marcus, and he was rounding up the boys to meet us there. I was fired up to take Nix down. Finally, it had been a long time coming. When Marcus had put a stop to our original plan two years earlier, I had been pissed off, but he’d managed to convince me it was for the best. We had all worked hard the last couple of years to build Storm up, and in that time, Nix had gone even more rogue. He had taken over the Presidency of Black Deeds and was now pissing all over that club pursuing his own agenda. Killing Bec and her son had been the final nail in his coffin as far as we were concerned, and I was fucking ecstatic when Marcus had given the order to put him to ground.

My mind wandered to Madison. Fuck, I was glad she was back but it was stirring shit up in me that I thought was over and done with. I still loved her and had always known that, but I figured that relationship was in the past. I was no longer so sure. I wanted her. But I wasn’t convinced we could deal with the past and move on from it. Madison seemed to have a lot of issues with it all. Fuck, but I wanted her.

I put thoughts of her aside to focus on the job at hand. Following Scott to the warehouse, I noted there were only a couple of bikes parked outside; hopefully, this meant Nix didn’t have much company.

While we waited for Marcus and the boys to turn up, Scott asked, “What’s the deal with you and Madison?”

“Not sure, brother. Your sister has a fucking mind of her own and I’m not sure I’ll ever get through it.”

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t have it any other way. A submissive bitch wouldn’t stand a chance with you,” he said and then his face turned serious. “Don’t fuck her over. She’s not as tough as she likes to make out.”

“I hear you,” I agreed. And I did. Madison liked to present a tough front but underneath it all she was pretty sensitive, and perhaps that was something I hadn’t paid enough attention to when we were together. It was certainly something I had figured out as our relationship had spiralled into a shit storm of hurt, anger and resentment. Too little, too fucking late though.

Scott nodded at me. “Good.” He then turned his head to acknowledge Marcus who was walking towards us.

He brought ten of the boys with him and we quickly discussed the best course of action. We split up: half going to the back, and the rest to the front of the warehouse. I was fucking itching to get in there and I pulled my gun out, ready to go.

Scott stormed through the door and we found Nix with three of his guys in there. But, fuck me, he was one step ahead of us again. Scott lifted his finger to indicate for us all to stop but I saw fucking red and wasn’t sure I could stop.

Nix chuckled, eyes glinting with sinister fucking glee. “Looks like you’re just in time for the party, boys.”

I powered past Scott, intent on killing Nix but he grasped my arm and yanked me back. “Now’s not the fuckin’ time, J. Be smart, brother,” he hissed.

“I don’t know how you can be so fucking calm about this! He’s got our fucking family there,” I barked.

Nix had Scott’s mother and Madison tied up, guns trained on them, and my heart was fucking pounding in my chest. Scott wanted me to be smart but as far as I could see, it was time to stop thinking and start fucking doing. It appeared that Marcus had the same idea as me. He came thundering through the back entrance and barrelled into Nix, knocking him to the ground. I took that as my cue to follow suit and fired my gun at the asshole who had Madison. I hit him dead in the eyes and he dropped like the piece of shit he was.

“Fuck!” Scott bellowed and gave the signal to the boys to get in it.

Marcus was busy with Nix and I had no doubt he could hold his own until we got the others under control, so I charged straight for the guy closest to me and swung my fist at him. I connected but he took a swing back and the crack across my cheek fucking hurt, but it didn’t stop me. With all this adrenaline coursing through my system, I didn’t think much could. We continued to trade punches but he was one tough motherfucker and just kept coming back for more.

Just when I thought I had him, a shot rang out and I turned to see that the VP of Black Deeds, Bullet, had arrived, along with about six other members. “Enough!” he yelled, and his guys all focused their guns on us.

Fuck.

Bullet was a nasty piece of work, and he appeared to be in a murderous mood going by the look on his face, and his tense body. He spoke at Marcus, “Let Nix go.” He trained his gun on Madison. “Or I shoot her.”

Marcus didn’t hesitate. He shoved Nix towards Bullet. Nix stumbled, but turned and attempted to punch Marcus, who saw it coming, ducked and then straightened, grabbing Nix by the throat.

Bullet stalked over to them and ripped Nix away from Marcus. “Fucking leave it, Nix,” he growled. “This shit is done.”

Nix turned his dark eyes on Bullet and seethed, “Watch your fucking mouth, VP. This shit isn’t done till I say it is, and it’s not fucking done.”

Bullet nodded at one of their guys who turned his gun from our people and aimed it at Nix. “The club says it’s done,” Bullet asserted, and the guy pulled the trigger.

Stunned, I watched as Nix slumped to the floor. Never in a million years had I expected that they would take their own president out. But, it was possibly the best move they could have made.

My eyes shot to Madison and I took in her alarm. Fuck, this needed to be over but I had no clue where Bullet was taking it.

“Right, you get your guys out of here and this is done. No fucking retribution for anything Nix did; he wasn’t backed by the club for any of that shit,” Bullet said to Marcus.

Marcus considered what he had said, giving both Scott and me a quick glance. Scott lifted his chin, indicating his consent and I followed suit. We didn’t want a war with Black Deeds; it had only ever been Nix who we were after, and that had been taken care of. I was fucking pissed though. I’d wanted to draw his death out and fucking make him suffer. I’d wanted to be the cause of his blood pouring from his body.

Turning back to Bullet, Marcus agreed and then raised his hand in the air, circling his finger and pointing at the door. He grabbed Sharon and I headed towards Madison, who Scott had untied.

I held her face between my hands and searched her eyes. “You okay, baby?” I asked.

She kept her shit together and nodded. “Yeah,” she replied and then, with an emotion I couldn’t quite figure out, “Take me home, J.” Her hands covered mine and she grasped them both pulling them down to our sides. We stood there for a moment like that, her eyes no longer cold towards me but rather, there was a heat to her stare. And it fucking hit me in the belly and then, of course, my dick did his happy dance again. I growled and nodded, leading her out to my bike, not even giving Bullet, Marcus or any of the boys a second glance.

I was fucking taking Madison home, and no fucker was getting in my way.

13

MADISON

J WAS ON a mission and I was going with it. I was letting myself feel again. After shutting my feelings down for so long, to allow myself go there again was electric. My body buzzed, my mind dancing with the possibilities, and my desire for J was in fucking overdrive. I needed to have him. Now.

Any doubts I had been having about how he felt had been erased when I saw the raw emotion playing on his face when he saw me tied up by Nix. I never thought I’d see the day, but I was relieved when he’d killed that fucker standing over me. It was no secret that I struggled with the violence surrounding Storm, but my eyes had been opened and Mum was right; anything J did was for those he loved. Even what he had done to Rob. I was shitty at myself for taking so long to see this because it had kept me from J all this time. And I didn’t want to be without him for one second longer.

I followed him wordlessly through his house into his bedroom, all the while holding his hand; I wasn’t letting him go.

When we reached his room, he turned to me, and pulled me to him. Our eyes locked and I licked my bottom lip, drawing his attention to my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his neck letting my fingers thread through his hair and then pulled his face to mine. The minute our lips met, my core clenched and my brain became a scrambled mess. I needed this man like I had never needed another, and I pushed myself closer to him; I couldn’t get close enough.

He groaned and reached his hands down to my ass and lifted me up so that my legs were wrapped around him. Next second, we were up against the wall, lips smashed together and his hands were under my top, searching for my breasts.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he murmured as he rolled my nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck, J,” I moaned, and then kissed him before pulling back away. “Why did we wait so long?” It wasn’t really a question that required answering; more a statement of how much I wanted this right now.

“I don’t fucking know, but don’t think that you can stop me now, ‘cause nothing will fucking stop me now. I’m yours and you’re mine, always have been.” He stared intently into my eyes when he spoke.

I nodded and smiled. “Yes,” I said simply, and then a little more aggressively, “Now, fuck me.”

He grinned, and then his lips were back on mine: hard, insistent. Gripping my ass, he turned and walked us to the bed, laying me down while he stood and watched me from hooded eyes.

“Take your clothes off, baby,” he commanded and I didn’t hesitate to obey.

I shimmied out of my jeans, lifted off my top and threw it on the floor, closely followed by my bra. Fuck, watching J watch me made me wetter than I already was. I couldn’t resist playing with him a little. Running my hands over my tits, I pinched my nipples, and then reached one hand down into my panties and rubbed my clit. My eyes did not leave J, but his eyes roamed my body, first watching me touch my tits and then following my hand into my panties. He loved to watch, and I loved to be watched. I had forgotten how in sync we were.

“Taste yourself,” he said as he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans.

He pulled his cock free and stroked it. All the time, his eyes remained on my pussy, eager for a show, so I dipped my finger into my wetness and then lifted it to my lips, sucking and licking. He stroked harder and a little faster, which only turned me on more. I moved to a kneeling position in front of him on the bed and pushed his jeans down; I wanted all barriers to J removed. Stepping out of them, he tugged off his shirt. J liked to go commando so he now stood naked in front of me and it was a fucking heavenly sight to behold.

I traced the ink on his chest, remembering the day he had it done. It was my name tattooed in an anchor and I was surprised and thrilled that he still had it. His hand cupped my chin and he tilted my face up to look at him while his other hand wrapped around mine that had been exploring his chest.

“Baby, it’s always been you. Always. Tell me you believe that,” he said, his voice husky.

“Yes, I believe it, J,” I breathed out, full of love and desire. I reached my other hand up to his face and pulled him to me, kissing him deep and hard, before admitting, “And it’s always been you. I thought this was done, but it’s not, and I don’t ever want it to be.” I laid my heart bare before him and prayed he wouldn’t fuck with it again; that he would treasure it and help me to finally put it back together.

“It won’t ever be done. You and me, that’s forever, and this time… this time I will do right by you. I thought I had always put you first, but today, seeing you there, fucking tied up… fuck, baby, today I realised that I would do anything for you. I won’t make the mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

And just like that, he had me. I was back where I should be. I was his. He had my heart again and it was time to give him my body. Briefly, I touched his ink again and then trailed my hand slowly down to his cock. He sucked in a breath as I took hold and moved my hand up and down the length of him, slow at first and then faster.

J suddenly gripped my hand and stopped me, a feral look on his face. “Feels so fucking good, but it’s been too long without you, baby. I want this to last longer than a minute,” he grunted.

My body flooded with warmth at his words and a tingle spread out from my heart. I was impatient to have him but his words hit my sweet spot, so I let him set the pace. Pulling away, laid back on the bed. Touching my pussy through my panties I enticed him. “It’s all yours, J. You’ve just got to come and get it.”

He wasted no time. He leant over me and ripped my panties off. Spreading my legs, he dipped his head between them. When his tongue hit my clit, I gripped the bed to steady myself, the firework of sensations within me leaving me gasping for breath and threatening to make me come undone. Growling with pleasure, the vibrations raced through me, sending a desperate need for more. I struggled to hold back, to let him continue this slow, maddening tease.

He continued to explore me with his tongue while his hands held my ass and positioned my legs over his shoulders. I tangled my fingers in his hair and tugged when the pressure built, grinding my pussy into his face. Fuck, I loved his mouth on me. When he pushed a finger inside, I gripped his hair hard; I was almost there. One finger became two and he pushed and swirled inside me until the pressure grew and I came in a glorious moment of ecstasy.

J lifted his head and untangled my legs from his shoulders. He moved up the bed until his face was over mine and he kissed me, the taste of my pussy in his mouth. I loved it when he tasted me and it sent me a little wild; I kissed him harder and moaned deep in my throat.

He kissed me back just as hard and then pulled away, chuckling, “You still like to taste your own pussy, babe?”

I entwined my leg around his, sliding my foot down his calf and pushed up so my sex touched his body. “Fuck, yeah.” I grinned at him before reaching for his cock. “J, I need you in me. Now,” I begged.

“You’ve no fucking idea how much I need to be in you, baby,” he rasped, slamming his mouth onto mine, our lips and tongues melding perfectly together.

The kiss was electrifying and J only ended it so he could move his lips to my neck and then down to my breasts, where he sucked and nipped at my nipples. While I enjoyed the foreplay—his mouth on my nipples incredible—I was ready for him. Hell, I’d always been ready for him. I pushed at his head so he was looking up at me. “Now, J. I need you to fuck me, now,” I demanded.

He pushed himself up and reached for his pants, grabbing a condom out of his wallet, eyes on me while he did this. I loved the desire I saw in those eyes and the heady feeling it gave me. Once he had the condom on, he came back to me for another hard and fast kiss. I wrapped both legs around him and finally, he entered me, slow at first and then he thrust all the way in.

Fuck!

J’s cock filled me and he thrust in and out, in and out as he watched me, his breathing erratic. Every one of my nerve endings was on fire and I squeezed my eyes shut as the sensations shot through me.

“Eyes, babe,” J grunted, and I snapped my eyes open. “Keep ‘em on me,” he ordered.

I raised my neck off the bed and flicked my tongue out to taste his lips and he bent his head a little and kissed me, plunging his tongue into my mouth. Holy hell, I never wanted to have sex with another man again. J was it for me. In truth, I’d always known this. My arms were already around him, but I clawed his back, trying to wrap myself closer around him while he pounded into me. And then my core contracted one last time before I shattered around him, coming hard. J wasn’t far behind me, releasing a fierce grunt before he thrust as far and as hard as he could, before stilling as he came. Spent, his head fell next to mine and he lay on me.

We lay locked together, savouring the release and the joining. Reluctantly he rolled off me and stood, removing the condom and dealing with it before coming back to the bed and lying on his side next to me. He propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand and reached out to smooth my hair. No words were spoken while he gently caressed my face, and yet his actions spoke volumes.

Once our heavy breathing calmed, he spoke. “Your pussy, babe. It’s mine.”

“Really? And who says so?” I couldn’t help but play with him and his cocky, territorial attitude, even though I wholeheartedly agreed with him.

He raised his eyebrows. “After that, you’re gonna fucking argue?”

“Maybe I just like to have a say in these things.”

“Yeah, baby. I remember.” He rolled his eyes. “But let’s settle this now. You and your pussy are mine. Yeah?”

I laughed. “Yeah, J. We’re yours.” I leaned over, and gave him a quick kiss.

“Thank fuck, babe,” he said before pulling me close and turning me so that we were spooning. “Now have a rest. It’s been a long fucking day.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was out fast, dreaming of a future with my man.

14

MADISON

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, I woke to the sound of J speaking in a hushed tone on his phone. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me, running a hand through his hair. I admired his back and the way his muscles rippled as his arm moved, including the Storm tattoo I had grown up with and knew so well from my father; it held so much meaning to me. I sighed. I was home. J was home, and Storm was home.

J finished his call and stood. He gave me a quick glance as he walked towards his bathroom; but no smile, just a serious, focused look.

Shit.

My insecurities flared up. Was he having second thoughts about us? Even after the “your pussy is mine” speech?

I got up and quickly dressed. I felt the need to be dressed if he was going to reject me now.

He came out of the bathroom and abruptly stopped when he took in my state of dress. “What the fuck, Madison? I thought we had this sorted. Why are you leaving?”

“I thought—” He shook his head, annoyed.

“Stop fucking analysing shit.” He came to me and cupped my cheek, grazing my lips with his thumb. “I told you where I stand. What I want. Take that in, babe, and know it. Feel it. But you’ve gotta fucking stop over thinking everything ‘cause there’s gonna be times where I might not make sense and things might get messy. I need you to have faith in me, in us. Yeah?”

Shit. I was a neurotic bitch. Note to self: calm that shit down. “Yeah. But it might take me some time to get there so I need you to work with that. Okay?”

He nodded. “Done,” he replied, and then smacked me on the ass. “Now, we’ve got to get to the clubhouse. Marcus is pissed at me, something about wanting to make sure you’re okay, and then we’ve got some club business to deal with.”

I was about to come back with a smartass reply regarding my father, but then I remembered the conversation with my mum today. I had opened my heart to J. Perhaps it was time to give my father another chance.

FIFTEEN MINUTES later we walked into the clubhouse and J left me at the bar to search for Marcus. The bar was full of club members who appeared to be celebrating something, most likely Nix’s death. Yeah, that was something to fucking celebrate. I smiled at them to let them know I was okay and went to find Mum.

She was in the kitchen making food, for what I was guessing was a full blown party, judging by the amount of food she had in there. “Hey, honey.” She stopped what she was doing and searched my face. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, and you?”

She waved her hand at me in a dismissive motion. “You know me, nothing fazes me.” Yep, that was true. My mother was unflappable—a tough bitch who could get through any situation.

“Do you need help with all this food?” I asked, changing the conversation. I hated discussing my feelings; better just to get on and deal with it yourself rather than whining to anyone who would listen.

“Thanks, honey,” she answered and, for the next hour, we worked together, getting all the boys and their families fed. News of Nix’s demise had spread fast, and loved ones had shown up to celebrate the end of the club’s battle with him. From what people told me, it had been a long, hard two years since I left. The club had put a lot of work into bringing him down and everyone was glad to see the end of this episode.

Just as Mum and I were finishing up in the kitchen, J wandered in. He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Your dad wants to see you, baby,” he said and the tenderness in his voice made my stomach flutter. J didn’t often do tender so it meant something to me; perhaps it indicated a change in the way he was approaching our new relationship.

I smiled up at him. “Where is he?” I asked, and he told me where to find him. “I won’t be long,” I promised, and gave him a quick kiss as I left the kitchen.

I FOUND my father outside talking to some of the boys. He glanced up when he saw me coming, his jaw set, no smile in place, but I saw the relief that flickered across his face in that moment and noted his shoulders settle out of their tense hold.

“Madison,” he addressed me, and waved the boys away so we could have some privacy.

He exuded an agitated vibe and I didn’t want a confrontation so I silently waited for him to continue, not wanting to say something that might set him off. When dealing with Marcus Cole, it was best to let him do most of the talking.

“You’re okay.” He nodded, reassuring himself.

“Yes, Dad, I’m okay,” I confirmed.

Another moment passed between us, with him deliberating over something and then he let out a huge breath, curved his palm around my neck and pulled me to him in a hug. “Thank fuck,” he uttered softly.

Shit, first J going all sensitive on me and Dad too. And then, out of nowhere, everything slammed into me at once. Relief, gratitude, joy, anger; I felt it all and then some. It unfurled within me, and I was overwhelmed to the point of tears. I started crying and Dad’s hand lightly brushed over my hair, soothing me, making me sob even harder.

We stayed like that for what felt like a long time: him calming me with soft reassurances and me clinging to him in a way I never had. I had needed him to be this father many times in my life and he had never come through for me, but that time, I felt a shift and it affected me. Letting my guard down a little was liberating.

Eventually, my tears dried up and I let go. “Thank you,” I said quietly, looking up into his eyes to see a mixture of concern and love.

He nodded and brushed his thumbs across my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “Madison, I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, and I fuckin’ know I can be an asshole sometimes, but I’m workin’ on it. I’m sorry you and your mother were put in that situation today; that you had to witness what you did. And I’m fuckin’ worried about you, worried that this will send you back to that hell you were in after that motherfucker beat the shit out of you.”

Well, fuck me, Marcus Cole was going all emotional on me. It was time to put his mind at ease. “You don’t need to worry about me, Dad. Yeah, that was a fucked-up situation, and seeing Nix killed was not on my bucket list, but you know what? I’m happy it’s done because it means you guys can get back to concentrating on club business and we can all breathe easier now. And as far as me losing the plot? It’s not going to happen. I’m stronger now and I have all of you to back me up. This time around, my eyes are wide open and I’m seeing everything in a different light,” I assured him, and then, needing to lighten the mood, I winked at him and said, “I’m not good at asking for help, but I’m working on it, just like you’re working on not being such an asshole.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and it was so good to see my Dad loosen up a little. “Okay, sweetheart, it’s a deal,” he agreed. “Now, let’s get back inside to the party. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

The party lasted into the early hours and I was exhausted by two a.m. It had been a great night though, catching up with everyone after being away for the past couple of years and watching the boys shed the tension they had obviously been feeling. Even Scott let loose a little and I watched with interest as he flirted with a woman I didn’t know. This was out of character for him; to my knowledge, Scott didn’t usually put the hard yards in with the ladies; he just scored whenever he felt the need.

As I watched him, he caught my eye and smiled. It was a dazzling smile, one that Scott didn’t often bring out. He was far too serious, and shouldered too much responsibility as far as I was concerned. I smiled back and then went looking for J.

“There you are,” he said as I walked into the pool room. The club had three pool tables and J could often be found in there.

I was taken aback by the woman who was next to J, leaning over the table getting ready to take her shot, tits falling everywhere and ass barely covered by her animal print mini skirt. J had obviously been about to help her take her shot and their closeness sent a rush of jealousy through me. My fists clenched, and my face flushed with a burning heat. It stopped me dead in my tracks and all clear headed thought escaped me. A primal need to stake out my territory took over, damn the consequences.

“What the fuck?” I snapped at J.

Irritation spread across J’s face and he stepped away from the skank and came towards me. “You’re kidding, right?” he demanded, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the side.

I yanked my arm out of his grip. “No, I’m not fucking kidding!” I yelled at him, but my eyes were focused solely on the chick who was now looking me up and down as if I was the shit on the bottom of her shoes. “Who is she, J?”

His lips pinched together and I could tell he was fighting to remain calm. “She’s no one, and you need to settle the fuck down,” he warned me.

My head jerked back to look at him. “And you need to stop telling me what to do.”

We glared at each other, neither saying a thing, but my mind was racing. How dare he tell me to settle down! I threw my hands in the air and madly declared, “I’m out of here. I need some space.”

I turned and stalked out of the room, giving the skank a filthy glare on my way. Fucking club whores; they were all the same and I couldn’t believe that J would let one drape herself all over him on the day we got back together.

Having no idea where I was going, I just kept walking and eventually found myself in J’s room upstairs. I was mentally and physically exhausted from the day, but I needed a shower so I undressed and submersed myself under the steaming, hot water, letting it wash away the heaviness I was feeling.

Having not been in a relationship for the last two years, I had enjoyed the peace of not having to work my way through shit like that. My relationship with J had always been a little volatile; it was the only aspect of it that I wished was different. Something had to give, to change if we were going to make it work this time. I just didn’t know if either of us was capable of that.

As I was contemplating all this, J’s ragged breathing engulfed the room and I turned to see him standing outside the shower. His wild eyes were on me, raking over my body with an intense passion that shot heat straight to my core and sent whatever thoughts I was having straight out of my mind. All I could think about was having J, having his cock in me again. He lifted his shirt over his head and discarded it, and then did the same to his shoes and jeans. I watched every movement intently, my hand snaking down to my clit to massage it while his body was revealed to me. Once he was naked, he opened the shower door and stepped in next to me, his body filling the small space. I continued touching myself and reached my other hand down to take hold of his cock and started stroking. J was hard and ready, and he emitted a groan with my movement.

Slipping his hands around me he ran them over my ass and pulled me closer to him, dipping his head to catch my mouth in a hard, forceful kiss. I kept massaging myself, circling and dipping my finger in my wet folds with one hand, while my other one ran up and down his cock. Our kiss became desperate, our breathing more erratic until J broke away to move his lips down my body, sucking, kissing, licking me on my neck and breasts. His hands were on my ass, my stomach, my tits and finally they were where I wanted them, where I needed them; he took over my pussy and began finger fucking me.

Fuck! It was almost more than I could take. The sensations shooting through my body were electric; J was fucking electric, and although I was overwhelmed by him, I also couldn’t get enough. I started to climb up his body, the need to have him inside me taking over, desperate for his cock. He withdrew his fingers from my pussy and moved his hands to my ass, helping lift me up and then moved me so that I was leaning up against the shower wall. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, my hands gripping the back of his neck. Needing his mouth on mine, I took it, plunging my tongue in. I moaned with pleasure. He felt so fucking good. I would never get enough of him.

“Baby, I’m gonna fuck you now but I don’t have a condom,” he grunted between kisses.

“I’m clean,” I managed to get out, not wanting him to stop; not ever stop.

“Good, me too,” he uttered before thrusting in me hard and fast, to the hilt.

“Fuck!” I cried out. “Don’t fucking stop, J. Fuck me hard,” I demanded.

He didn’t need further coaxing. He rammed into me repeatedly, our faces mashed side by side, our breathing hard and heavy while we each took what we needed. The rhythmic slapping of our bodies and our grunts were the only noises in the room and it turned me on even more. J began to move even faster with his thrusts and I felt it build; the divine pleasure intensifying until my pussy tightened and clenched and the release hit me, exploding throughout me, and I screamed with satisfaction.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, and then he thrust hard one last time, and straightened and stilled as his release pumped into me. His head fell forward and he stayed like that for a moment, spent.

We eventually pulled apart and he let me down to stand next to him.

J smoothed my hair so it hooked behind my ear and then he kissed me, a slow and lazy kiss and I could feel the smile forming on his lips. “So fucking good, baby,” he murmured as he ended the kiss.

I laid my palm across his cheek. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” I apologised, my head so much clearer.

His face lit up in a wicked grin. “Yeah, me too, but only a little bit because it meant I got to fuck you like that.”

“You can fuck me like that anytime you want. In fact, if you don’t, I might just unleash my inner bitch on you so that you do,” I promised.

He grinned at me for a moment longer and then said, “Okay, time to get you clean and then to sleep.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES later we were in bed, me on my side and J behind me with his arms and legs wrapped around and over me. He murmured in my ear, “Goodnight, beautiful. I love you.”

Yep, this and J were home. “I love you, too,” I replied and drifted off to sleep.

15

JASON

WEDNESDAY ROLLED AROUND and it was back to club business. With Nix out of the picture, we could focus solely on our business interests and I sensed a distinct change in attitude in the clubhouse that morning. Marcus had called a meeting for ten a.m. and he outlined where we were at with key dealings. Storm had numerous business interests – restaurants, retail outlets, clubs – all legit, because we liked to keep our nose clean these days. We moved ourselves out of drugs years earlier and it had taken a lot of heat off the club. Currently, we had some distribution problems that needed resolving and he asked Scott and me to deal with that while he handed other jobs off to everyone else. The meeting was finished by ten thirty, and I was about to head out with Scott when Marcus stopped me.

“I had a talk with Madison last night. Seems she thinks she’s gonna be okay. I’m not convinced and need to know where you think her head is at,” he said.

“She told you we’re back together?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, but any fool could work that out, J. And to be honest, I think that’s a good fuckin’ thing. She needs someone like you to pull her into line and I’m hopin’ like hell that you can help her keep her shit together. All this stuff with Nix and Bec must be doin’ her head in, but she’s fuckin’ stubborn and won’t talk about it.” He was frustrated and with good reason; Madison could be a pain in the ass when it came to leaning on others for support.

“I think she’s stronger than you give her credit for. Your daughter’s a fighter, Marcus, and yeah, she doesn’t like to talk about shit, but she’s obviously learnt other ways of dealing with it. I’m keeping an eye on her and will let you know if anything comes up,” I replied.

Marcus’s steady gaze lingered on me for another moment, taking in everything I had said and then he nodded, “Okay. Good. I’ll leave that with you.” He seemed reassured and I left him to find Scott so we could go and sort out this distribution issue.

“SO, you and Madison, huh?” Scott looked over at me as we drove back to the clubhouse. We had been out all day dealing with problems and I was more than ready to call it a day. Madison called around lunch time to tell me she was going out job hunting and to organise to meet me at the clubhouse by five o’clock. It was nearly five now and I was distracted thinking about her. “Brother, did you hear me?” Scott pulled me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, we’re together,” I confirmed.

“Good, it’s about fuckin’ time.”

I chuckled. “Seems you and Marcus can agree on that. It’s a work in progress but mark it, I’m gonna marry her one day.”

Scott snapped his head in my direction, a stunned look on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Haven’t told her yet though,” I answered.

Scott laughed. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, but you don’t generally tell a woman you’re gonna marry her, J. And I really hate to fuckin’ break this bit of news to you, but nobody tells Madison to do anything.”

“Mark my words, brother. I might ask her, I might tell her, but either way, it’s happening.”

“You two are made for each other, both as stubborn as fuck.” He shook his head.

As we pulled into the parking lot of the clubhouse, Madison was walking towards the front door and I took in her sexy dress and heels. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, which excited my dick. Christ, I couldn’t wait to get her upstairs. She turned and waved at me before going inside.

Scott looked at me, shaking his head. “Keep your dick in your pants.”

“You wait till you find someone, Scott, and then you’ll understand.”

“Not fuckin’ likely,” he muttered.

I found her sitting at the bar with Stoney. I liked Stoney, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at Madison. “Eyes off her tits, Stoney,” I snapped.

Madison’s eyes widened and I waited for her response but she surprised the fuck out of me with her silence.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, moving off his stool to stand. “I’m outta here.”

“His eyes weren’t on my tits, J,” she said as we watched him leave.

“Yeah, baby, they were.”

She rolled her eyes. “You weren’t even standing in front of him to be able to know that.”

I moved into her space, pushed my body up against her side and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. We were now the only ones in the bar. Leaning my face down, I spoke into her ear, “I know they were because you’re wearing a low cut, tight dress that your tits are almost spilling out of, and it’s exactly where my eyes would have been if I was Stoney.”

Madison’s lips parted and her tongue darted out to touch them. My eyes took in the rapid rising and falling of her chest; I knew that she was wet and I pushed my erection harder into her side before stepping away slightly. She stood swiftly and turned to press her body into mine, reaching her hand down to rub my dick. I groaned and put my arms around her, gripping her ponytail and pulling her head backwards. Dipping my head, I licked up her throat and then took her mouth in a hard kiss. She was like a wild fucking animal, kissing and tonguing me, all the while rubbing up and down my dick with one hand, the other on my ass.

I abruptly ended the kiss and she whimpered, clearly not ready to let go. “I’m gonna come in my pants if we don’t stop,” I muttered.

“Fucking tease,” she complained. “I’m so wet for you right now, J. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Her hands stopped what they were doing and she pushed me away. Fuck, she was glorious; her face was flushed, lips swollen, nipples hard and it took all my control not to throw her over my shoulder and continue this upstairs.

“We need to talk,” I said, and with those four words, I killed the mood completely.

Madison’s body tensed. “About?”

I sighed and reached for her arm. “Not here, babe. In my room,” I said, and guided her out of the bar, towards the stairs.

We walked in silence, and when we reached my door, she turned to me and asked, “Am I going to like this talk, J? Because I’ve had a really good day and I don’t want to ruin it.”

I ignored her question and ushered her inside. “Sit on the couch, baby, and no, you probably won’t like this talk, but we need to have it, and once it’s done, I promise it will be the last time we discuss it.”

I expected an argument but she surprised me for the second time that day by doing as I said, sitting and waiting patiently for me to start talking.

Moving to sit next to her, I took a minute to get the words out because I needed to say this right. “For us to move forward, we need to sort out the shit we left behind last time; the shit we didn’t sort out then,” I asserted, and let her take that in before continuing, “What happened with Rob really screwed us and I’m still not sure why, but I know that was when it all started to fall apart. I need you to tell me why.”

A pained look crossed her face and she sat right back in the couch, away from me. I reached out to hold her hand, but she snatched it away, placing it over the scar on her arm instead. Taking a deep breath she began, “Growing up, my dad sheltered me from the club a lot. Sure, I knew the guys and they were my family, but I didn’t know about the guns, the drugs or the violence. You know that already. When I started seeing it, I wasn’t concerned by it, or so I thought…” she stopped for a moment, getting herself together, “…until that night, J. When I saw what you were capable of and what Scott was capable of, it freaked me the fuck out. Neither of you seemed fazed by what you did, and at the time, it bothered me. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I also felt guilty that it was all my fault.”

“Rob was trying to rape you, Madison. He sliced your fucking arm and attacked you, and I couldn’t stop him so I did what I had to do,” I pointed out calmly.

“I get that, but the way you two just dealt with his body and carried on like nothing had happened… I found that hard to comprehend.” She was honest, and even though I didn’t like what she was saying, I was relieved that she was finally being open with me.

“Do you think that I like that part of me? That I enjoy doing the dirty work that being in the club requires? I fucking don’t. But I do it for a reason. And six years ago, when I fell in love with you, my reason became you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she just stared at me. I had no idea what she was thinking until she finally said, “I know. I realise that now, J, but I didn’t back then. I didn’t work that out until I talked to Mum yesterday. I get it, and I’m okay with it.”

I cocked my head. “Really, baby? How can you go from not sure to totally okay in a day?”

She smiled and it hit my heart; it was so pure and genuine. Then she moved back towards me on the couch and touched my chest, and that fucking hit my dick. God, this woman turned me the fuck on. “J, we went through so much, and I let it break me, but having to put myself back together has made me strong, stronger than I’ve ever been. I didn’t get this until now. I also didn’t get just what we had, how we fit together. I didn’t appreciate you and what you are willing to do for me. Mum helped me see that, and she made me realise I need to trust you more. I don’t know if I’ll ever be totally okay with all the stuff you have to do for the club, but I’m okay with putting my trust in you and in the fact that you do it for me and our families.”

Fuck. Mind blown. I hadn’t realised she had come this far. “To give me that is to give me everything,” I confessed.

Nodding, she said, “I thought I had given you all I had to give, but this is the final piece of me. Now you have it all.”

Fuck. “Thank you, baby.” I leaned forward to catch her lips in a kiss.

She kissed me, but then pulled away with a sly grin. “Don’t think this means I will roll over and let you control me though.”

I chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. You wouldn’t be you without that fucking attitude and that need to argue with every damn thing I say.”

“Good. Now, are you going to fuck me?” she demanded, reaching her hand to touch my dick.

16

MADISON

J SAT ON the edge of the bed, putting his boots on, but also watching me get dressed. The desire in his eyes was clear, and even though we had just had mind blowing sex, both of us wanted more. However, we had agreed to go to dinner at Mum and Dad’s.

“Why did you say yes to dinner? I could have fucked you all night, baby,” he grumbled, finishing with his boots and standing.

I smoothed my dress down and slipped on my heels, noting J’s eyes slide down my legs and then back up to my breasts as I adjusted the top. Fuck, I loved it when he watched me with such intensity.

He took a determined step towards me and snaked his arms around my waist, letting his hands drop to my ass. On contact, I grew wet again as his hard cock rubbed up against my body. I hadn’t bothered answering him, and he breathed into my ear, “Dinner will be quick because I need to get my cock back in you real fucking soon.”

Fuck. White hot desire coursed through me. My hands rested on his chest and I wound one up past his neck to tangle my fingers in his hair and pulled his lips down to mine. He willingly took my mouth, and our lips and tongues came together in a frenzy of love and lust.

J ended the kiss and separated us. “Jesus, Madison, I can’t get enough of you.”

I smiled. “Good, baby, and you better feel that way for the rest of your life.”

“With that pussy and those tits and legs, I have no doubt,” he said, and then, “Now, let’s get going because the sooner we get there, the sooner I can get you out of there.”

On the drive over, he asked, “So, what did you get up to today?”

Warmth hit me. It was always the simple things like this that made me the happiest. Being with J, talking about our day, driving to dinner together; these were the things that brought a smile to my face and filled my heart with joy. “I visited your sister and Crystal this morning and then I went job hunting this afternoon.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You visited Brooke? How the fuck did that go?”

I laughed. “Actually, it went really well. We had a good talk about things and cleared the air. She was supportive of us and I think she genuinely meant it. She’s different, J.”

“Yeah, losing Bec has hit her hard and I think she’s done a lot of thinking since it happened.”

“Well, we’ve put the past behind us, and I’m happy about that because it will make it easier for you and me, and also for me to help out with Crystal.”

He nodded in agreement. “Speaking of Bec, the club is organising her and Georgie’s funeral for Friday morning.”

“Okay, I’ll let Brooke know so we can prepare Crystal for it,” I said, dreading the day, and that an innocent child had to even go through this shit.

“Good. Now, tell me about your job hunting,” he said, moving onto a much better topic of conversation.

I smiled broadly. “I got a job! I’ll be starting next week at that little clothing boutique on East Street.”

“That’s great, baby. Sounds like you had a really good day,” he said, draping his arm across the back of my seat, his eyes sweeping down my body and back to my eyes before fixing a lazy grin on me.

My heart fluttered. This was happiness to me and I was so glad to have another chance at it with J.

DINNER with my parents started out as a standard affair. Mum was her usual self, fussing over everybody, making sure we were well fed and trying to stick her nose in everyone’s business. Dad was in a pensive mood and was fairly quiet throughout the night. J was his cocky self, doing all he could to hurry it along so he could get us home and satisfy his desire for me.

And then my mother asked me a question that changed the mood of the night. “So, honey, have you decided if you will move in here with us until you get yourself sorted out?”

J’s head snapped up. “No, she’s moving in with me,” he said.

Mum didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t you two want some time to settle back into your relationship before moving in together again?” She was staring straight at J, not even glancing in my direction. I didn’t know what was going on here, but it felt like some secret communication was taking place.

J scowled at her. “No, Sharon, we don’t want some time. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Normally, I would be jumping right in here to tell J to let me make my own damn decisions, but I wanted to see how this played out between him and mum.

“Has Madison agreed to this J, or are you back to making all the decisions in your relationship?” Shit, Mum was stepping into unsafe territory.

J’s nostrils flared, and he was about to say something when my father spoke, “That’s enough, Sharon. This is between J and Madison. It has nothing to do with us.”

My mother’s head spun to face my father and she snapped at him, “Well, it will have something to do with us if Madison isn’t ready for it yet. I worry what will happen if she can’t handle it again.”

Oh, fuck me! They were talking about my drinking, and it pissed me off that none of them could just come out and say that to start with. I slammed my chair back and stood. “Just an FYI for you all, you know, because you never actually asked me, my drinking is under control. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in nearly two fucking years. Mum, I am moving in with J,”—I fixed my glare on him—“Even though he never took the time to ask me. I do appreciate the concern, but I’m working through stuff in my head, and I think I’m going to be okay. I think I’m finally getting my shit together.”

J’s anger had dissipated and he was calm as he said to my mother, “We’re working it out together, and no, I’m not making all the decisions. I know I’m a bossy asshole but I’ll do anything to make this work.”

Mum appraised him and then nodded, “I hope so, J, for both your sakes. I love you like a son, and when I say I’m worried, it’s not just for Madison. I saw what you went through last time too.”

I sat back down and put my hand on J’s arm, gently rubbing it. We held each other’s gaze for a moment and then I turned to look at Mum. “Thanks, Mum. It means a lot to me that you feel that way about J.” J just grunted in response; if it had been anyone other than my mother bringing this up, he would have told them to fuck off and mind their own business. I loved that, for me, he showed her respect and answered her questions.

We were all saved from this conversation when Dad’s phone rang. He stood and took the call in another room and Mum started clearing the table.

I murmured to J, “You are a bossy motherfucker. When were you going to have that discussion with me? The one about me moving in?”

He grinned. “I wasn’t, babe. It was a fucking given.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it was.”

Dad came back, hard eyes fixed on J. “You and me. Now.” He indicated with his head that they were to leave and J was straight up, concern visible on his face.

He leant down, took my face with both his hands and kissed my forehead. “You stay with your mum till we’re back.”

I fought the need to ask what was going on and simply nodded in agreement. “Okay, baby,” I replied.

Mum and I watched in silence as they left, neither of us sure what was happening, both of us being guided by faith and trust. I had come a long way in the last few days.

JASON

MARCUS and I entered the bar, scanning the room for Scott. He was keeping an eye out and saw us straight away. Seated next to him was Nash, and across from them were Bullet and one of his boys. They made room for us to sit as we approached; I was nervous about what this meeting meant and sat with some trepidation.

Marcus spoke first, “What the fuck’s so important to drag me away from a family dinner?” He glared at Bullet; there wasn’t much love lost between these two. They had come to blows over club dealings in the past and Marcus didn’t trust him at all.

Bullet’s jaw clenched. “Got word that Nix’s crazy sister is out for blood. Thought you should know.”

“What are we talking here?” Marcus asked.

“She’s threatened your family, Madison especially.”

“Fuck!” I roared and slammed my hand down on the table. “When the fuck does all this shit end?”

Bullet threw his hands up in a defensive stance. “Got nothing to do with me. I’m just showing some courtesy by letting you know what I’ve heard. I figure it’s the least I can do after what Nix put your club through.”

Scott leaned forward, a menacing tone to his voice, “Where the fuck is this bitch?”

“We’ve lost her. After we heard she’d made threats, I sent some of the boys around to see her. Seems they scared her off and she’s done a runner, but I’ve still got concerns she means business.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to Marcus. “This is a list of places to try first. We’ll be out of town on a run the next few days but when we get back, I’ll contact you, see if you’ve located her. Trust me; I want this shit dealt with once and for all too.” He pushed his chair back and stood to leave.

“Once this is dealt with, we need a sit down. Nix fucked our club’s relations and I want us to fix that, Bullet,” Marcus said.

Bullet stopped mid-stride, and contemplated Marcus for a moment before replying, “Yeah, seems he did.”

After they left, I looked at Marcus and ranted, “This is fucked up. I want to find that bitch and deal with her. No fucking loose ends this time, no fucking holding back.”

“We find her first and see what she’s playing at, J. No need to start a war where one’s not needed,” Marcus countered, and then continued, “Tomorrow, first thing, you, Scott and Nash follow these leads up.”

I nodded, but I had no fucking intention of leaving that bitch to carry out her vendetta. This time, I would make sure Madison was safe and do whatever the fuck it took to make that happen.

17

MADISON

THE NEXT MORNING I woke at seven, alone in J’s bed. He and Dad had come back from meeting with Bullet and told us about Nix’s sister, Mandy. J appeared quite pissed off about it all, but Dad was pretty calm so I wasn’t going to worry about it too much at this point. Although, I had met Mandy once and she was a crazy bitch, so perhaps I should be worried about it. J was going out with Scott and Nash to find her, but I hadn’t expected him to leave so early, or without waking me first.

I got up, made coffee and then tried to phone J. My call went straight to message bank so I left him a message to call me back. Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t called so I tried him again. Now I was beginning to feel like a nagging wife but I just wanted to say good morning. The call went to message bank again, so I left another message. I hung up and put my phone down. That was it; no more calls to him until he rang me back.

It was time to get ready for the day. I had a yoga class booked for eight o’clock and then a hair appointment at one. After finishing my coffee, I had a shower, got dressed and was out the door. J had left me the keys to his Jeep, which I was grateful for. I arrived at the yoga studio ten minutes later and checked my phone; still nothing from J. It was starting to piss me off, but I tried to remind myself that he was technically at work so perhaps he was occupied with stuff. I shoved my phone in my bag and headed inside; I was more than ready for a session and hopefully the knot of tension I felt in my gut at the moment would be eased by the yoga.

JUST OVER AN HOUR later I was fumbling with the car keys trying to get them in the lock when my phone rang. Yoga hadn’t smoothed any of the tension from my body, and as I struggled with everything in my arms in order to get to my phone, I threw a hissy fit and just let everything fall to the ground.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I retrieved the phone from the ground and answered it.

“Madison,”—it was Scott—“where the fuck is J?”

Well, fuck me. The day was quickly turning into one big ‘ole pile of shit. Yes, where the fuck was J, if not with Scott? “I’ve got no idea,” I snapped back at him. “I thought he was with you.”

Scott was fuming. “Well, he should be, but he’s not fuckin’ here.”

“I’ve left him two messages, but he hasn’t replied to either of them.”

“Yeah, not answering my calls either. Okay, gotta go,” he said and hung up.

I was left staring at my phone. God, I loved the way my brother spoke to me. Not. And again, my mind swung to J. Where was he? I dialled him again, hoping he might actually answer my call this time. No fucking luck; it went to message bank yet again, and now I was really shitty. I picked up the rest of my crap that was strewn across the ground and finally unlocked the car door. Throwing everything on the passenger seat, I got in, started the car and threw it into reverse. Screaming out of the parking lot, I shoved my sunglasses on and turned the music up really fucking loud. What better way to drown in one’s own shitty mood than with some Avenged Sevenfold.

I swung past his house hoping he might be there, but he wasn’t, so I continued onto the clubhouse. As I parked the car, I saw Scott walking out the front door and quickly got out of the car to catch him before he left.

It had been about twenty minutes since I had spoken to him and he was still pissed off so I guessed that he hadn’t found J yet.

“Any luck finding him?” I asked, as he approached me.

“Haven’t spoken to him yet, but got word as to where he might be so we’re heading out there now,” he answered me gruffly.

“What’s going on? Why has J gone off the grid today?” I asked Scott, even though it was highly unlikely he would give me an answer. A girl can try though, right?

“Madison, I don’t have time for twenty fuckin’ questions right now,” he barked.

I threw my hands up. “Fine! But when you find him, tell him I expect a call.”

Scott shook his head, clearly exasperated. “I’m not getting involved in your drama with J. That shit’s between the two of you.”

He walked past me towards his bike and I flipped him the bird. Even though he didn’t see it, it still made me feel good. “Fuck you, too!” I yelled and stormed off in the direction of the clubhouse.

A few minutes later, the rumble of bikes sounded as he and a couple of the boys left. Pissed at both J and Scott, I needed to vent so I pulled out my phone as I headed inside. Dialling Serena, I noted how empty the clubhouse was and thanked the universe for some peace and quiet.

Serena answered on the first ring. “Why haven’t I heard from you for days?”

I laughed. “Well, why haven’t I heard from you? And it hasn’t been days, you drama queen!”

“I’ve been busy screwing hot guys. What’s your excuse, chica?”

“Oh, I bet you have.” I had no doubt that was exactly what she had been doing. “I’ve been busy screwing one hot guy,” I answered her with a wicked grin on my face.

She squealed. “Tell me it’s J!”

“Of course it’s J,” I chastised her.

“It’s about time you two did the dirty,” she teased, and I could hear the approval in her voice. “So, how is the moody motherfucker?”

I groaned. “I couldn’t tell you how he is today because the asshole left before I woke up and hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

“Oh…trouble in paradise so soon. Doesn’t sound good,” she said.

“Well, I have some other news for you. Nix is dead. Don’t ask, it’s a long story. But, his sister has made threats against us, so I think J is busy looking into that. Still…he should call me back, so I’m annoyed at him.”

“Perhaps you should withhold the love tonight, babe,” she joked.

I laughed. “You always know how to cheer me up, honey. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s what best friends are for. I think I need to come for a visit. How about this weekend?”

“Yes! Do you think Gina would give you Friday or Monday off as well so you could stay for longer?” I asked, excited at the thought of seeing her. It had only been a few days since I’d left but I really missed her.

“I’ll ask and will let you know,” she promised.

We chatted for a couple more minutes and then hung up. I felt so much better after talking with her; I had known she would lift me out of the shitty mood I was in. I sat quietly for a moment, thinking about our friendship and what it meant to me; how it had helped me through a really tough part of my life. I wasn’t sure how I would have gotten through all of that without her, and I smiled thinking about it, and also about how far I had come on my journey to give up alcohol.

“What’s got you smilin’ like a bitch who just had good cock?” I was interrupted by a sexy drawl.

I looked up to see Nash leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of him, sexy smirk plastered on his face. He was tall, all muscle and ink; he exuded a couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Nash was one of the cockiest men I had ever met and the women flocked to him.

I rolled my eyes. “Can a woman not smile unless she’s had cock?” I asked.

He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door frame coming towards me. “No, sweet thing, it all comes down to cock.”

“Well, I hate to tell you, Nash, but this woman hasn’t had any today, and yet I’m still smiling. I think your theory is a little off.” I loved bantering back and forth with him.

He raised his eyebrows. “J’s fallin’ down on the job there, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to jump ships? I’ve got all you’ll ever need.” He grinned at me, opening his arms wide in an inviting gesture.

“You never give up, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not where you’re concerned. Until J makes an old lady out of you, I figure I’ve still got a shot.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble but I really am taken, and as much as he pisses me off at times, I think it’s a forever thing.”

He cocked his head to the side and contemplated me for a moment. “You’re serious there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Nash, I am,” I replied.

The flirty tone of the conversation had just been replaced, and Nash pulled up a stool. “So, what’s givin’ you that smile today, if it’s not J?” he asked, genuine interest on his face.

I wasn’t one to share thoughts and feelings very often, and although we shared a flirty friendship, I had never really had a deep conversation with Nash. But something compelled me to open up to him. “I was just thinking about my friendship with my best friend, and also about how I’ve given up drinking. That was fucking hard to do, Nash, but I hardly think about having a drink these days.”

“That’s fuckin’ great, sweetheart. And I should know because I have been where you are, and I know how hard it is to kick that addiction.” He surprised me because I didn’t know he was an alcoholic.

I leaned closer to him, almost like we were sharing secrets that no one else could know about. “You’re an alcoholic?”

“It’s been just over five years since I’ve had a drink, but I still have my days where I want one. I remember how you were before you left and you’ve come a long fuckin’ way. Best thing you ever did, getting outta here then. You reckon you can handle being back? Being with J? ‘Cause being an old lady isn’t a piece of fuckin’ cake, sweetheart,” he said.

“Honestly? I’m going to give it a good go but I hear you. I know being with J won’t be easy, but I’ve realised things about him and the club that make me think it will be different this time. I’ll be different in the way I react to stuff.”

He leaned even closer to me and grazed my cheek with his thumb, his minty breath in the air between us. “You’re a strong woman, Madison, and J is a fuckin’ lucky man to have you. If you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands how fuckin’ hard it is to battle this shit, you just call me. Okay?”

I nodded, overcome by emotion. Having never seen this side of Nash, I was surprised into silence for a moment. He pulled his hand away and leaned back on his stool, serious for another few moments, and then he flashed me that sexy grin of his. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll leave you to it. Gotta get back to work or your daddy will have my balls,” he said.

“Thanks, Nash,” I said, quietly. “That means a lot to me.”

He winked at me. “Of course, if you ever get sick of J not sharin’ his dick with you, I can take care of that too.” And he was back to his cocky self.

I smacked his ass as he walked away which really only encouraged him, and I rolled my eyes again as he looked back at me to blow me an air kiss. Laughing, he finally left the room and I was still smiling like an idiot ten minutes later when Scott and J found me.

They stormed into the club bar where I was sitting, yelling at each other, not realising that I was in there.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Marcus say about it. This time I am not leaving loose ends, Scott. This time I am going to do what I should have done last fucking time,” J roared, eyes blazing, body tense. He even scared me a little when he was like this.

“No! You need to calm the fuck down and get your head straight, brother. You do this, and there’s no telling where this shit will end. That chick has connections, and you piss those connections off, you could be bringing hurt to the club, the likes we haven’t ever seen,” Scott yelled back, trying to talk some sense into him, but I could see that J was focused on his own agenda.

“Fuck her, and fuck her connections! Madison needs—” and at that point, J saw me and stopped dead in his tracks. He took a moment and then started yelling at me, “What the fuck, Madison? Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you.” I stood then walked to him. Jabbing my finger at his chest, I continued, “God, you can be an asshole sometimes. You left before I woke up this morning and haven’t returned any of my calls, and now you speak to me like that.” I shook my head at him. “Not happening, J. Come and find me when you’re ready to apologise.” We glared at each other while that sunk in, and then I turned, grabbed my bag and headed outside. I expected him to follow me out, but he didn’t and that pissed me off even more. Fuck, could this day get any worse?

SEVEN HOURS LATER, I was thinking that yes, the day could in fact get worse. Having left the hairdressers, I walked to the car and saw J leaning against it. He hadn’t bothered to call me, and I had stewed on that all afternoon. As a result, I was in the kind of mood where I could reach out, grab his balls, and yank them the fuck off. With one fucking hand. While punching him in the face with my other hand.

As I approached, he stayed where he was; shades in place, arms crossed and looking sexy as fuck. But I wasn’t getting sucked in by that. I had balls to rip off, so I stalked up to him and snapped, “Seven fucking hours, J! I thought we were doing it differently this time.”

“I had things to take care of,” he growled, still not moving from where he was.

“Things that were more important than me?” I was possibly being a bit selfish here but fuck it. I needed him to step up and put me first.

He ripped his shades off, his eyes dark and flinty. “Yeah, babe. Things that were more important than you, and let’s get this straight from the get go, I’m not at your fucking beck and call. That’s not me and you know that, so don’t start trying to change that, ‘cause it ain’t happening.”

“I don’t want you at my beck and call. I just wanted a damn apology!” I yelled.

“What the fuck for?”

“Seriously? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, J, if you need to ask me that.” I gestured with my hands for him to move out of the way so that I could get in the car.

He shook his head. “Passenger side, babe,”—he held up a set of keys—“I’m driving.”

I looked around for his bike but couldn’t see it. Scowling, I muttered, “Oh, fuck me.” Knowing there was no point arguing with him, I did as he said.

“You didn’t answer me. What am I supposed to be apologising for?” he asked as he settled into the driver’s seat, eyes focused on me, a hint of anger still there.

“I did answer you. As far as I’m concerned, you need to work that out for yourself.” Why did men always need things spelled out for them?

“Madison, it would be a lot fucking quicker for you to just tell me.”

“And I’d be a lot fucking happier if I didn’t have to tell you.” I blew out an angry breath, “Just take me home, J. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I turned away from him and stared out the front of the car, willing him not to say another word because, if he did, I might just reach over and do some damage that both of us would regret.

We sat in a heated silence for awhile until, finally, he started the car and took us home, the day having gone to complete shit.

18

JASON

I SAT ON THE COUCH, mindlessly flicking through channels on the television. It was nearly midnight, and Madison and I still hadn’t spoken since we arrived home that afternoon. She secluded herself in the bedroom as soon as we got home and hadn’t come out since. It pissed me off at the time, but in hindsight, it was probably the smartest move she could’ve made. After a long, stressful day that achieved fucking nothing, I had been all out of patience and she had fucking tested me.

Wanting to catch up with Nix’s sister, Mandy, I had headed out early to find her. I doubted that Marcus and Scott would deal with her once and for all, not wanting to stir up trouble, so it was up to me to make sure she didn’t fuck with Madison. All day I had chased the bitch with nothing to show for it. She was gone, and no one seemed to know where she was. On top of that, I had Scott breathing down my neck and Madison yelling at me for God only knew what. Fuck, I was beginning to think she would be the death of me. And yet, all I wanted to do was get my dick into her sweet pussy.

Christ, I was getting hard thinking about it. I undid my jeans and reached in, wrapping my hand around my dick. Shutting my eyes, I pictured Madison’s hand around it and her lips on me. Fuck, the imagery was too much; I needed her actual hands and lips. I got up and stalked into the bedroom. She was lying on her side and rolled onto her back at the sound of me entering the room. Her long hair was splayed across the bed, and all she had on were her panties and a thin t-shirt that clearly showed her hard nipples.

I lifted my shirt over my head and discarded it, along with my jeans while she watched, her hands moving to her tits. My breathing became erratic and I could smell the desire swirling around us. I indicated with my finger that she should take her clothes off and grunted, “Off, and then show me how you want me to touch you, baby.”

She sat up and removed her top, eyes on mine before they dropped to my dick. Entranced with what she saw there, she lay back and slowly peeled her panties down, not moving her gaze from my dick. Lifting two fingers to her mouth she sucked them and then moved them to her pussy, swirling around her clit while her other hand tweaked one of her nipples. Satisfaction shot through her because she moaned loudly, and then lifted her ass slightly off the bed before pushing both fingers inside her wet pussy. Her other hand moved down to stroke her clit, and she closed her eyes as she worked towards an orgasm.

I liked to watch but the need to taste her, to have her, took over and I positioned myself on the bed with my head between her legs and my hands on either side of her. Her eyes flew open and she shot me a sexy smile before tangling both her hands in my hair and pushing my face down into her pussy. I inhaled the smell I loved so much and ran my tongue from one end to the other before dipping it inside and tasting her sweet juices. Fuck, she was wet and it got me even harder. I moved one hand down to my dick to give it a hard couple of tugs while I continued to tongue her. Getting carried away, I kept pumping until suddenly, I needed to be inside her. Moving quickly, I knelt, spread her legs wide and pulled her to me so that my dick was at her entrance. My eyes roamed over her body, taking in her glorious fucking tits, and then they found her eyes, locked on mine and full of desire.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve gotta have you,” I managed to get out before she tugged me to her, pulling my dick into her.

I entered her, thrusting hard and fast. Her walls clamped around me and it did fucking beautiful things to me. Madison was a greedy bitch with a greedy pussy, and fucking her was an out-of-this-world experience. I continued to thrust in and out while leaning down to kiss her. Her legs were around me, and her hands grabbed my face and she kissed me back, hard and hungry. We kept at this for awhile and then she pulled away from my kiss.

“Top, J. I want to be on top,” she grunted, and I flipped us so that she was on top, straddling me.

I let her take control, and exhaled in pleasure as she wiggled backwards and leant down, taking my dick in her mouth. She sucked me hard and reached her hand to massage my balls. Coming up for air, she murmured, “Love your cock, honey. Love sucking it, but I fucking need it in me.”

I wanted that too, but I wanted to watch her for a bit longer. “Not yet, babe. I want to watch you some more. Want to watch your finger in your pussy while your other hand is wrapped around my cock.”

Her eyes lit up at this; yeah she fucking loved me watching her just as much as I loved watching her. She moved so her chest was on mine, legs still straddling me and ground her pussy against my dick while she licked my lips and kissed me, slowly, lazily. I wrapped my arms around her, letting my hand slide over her ass, and then dipped a finger into her pussy from behind, pushing slowly, in and out. I could feel her lips curling into a smile while I kissed her and she moaned against my lips, “Feels so good, baby. My turn now.”

I stopped what I was doing and she moved back to a sitting position, legs on either side of me. She spread her legs and tilted her pussy forward. With our eyes locked, she started stroking herself. I shifted my gaze to take it all in, waiting patiently for her to take hold of my cock. I was so fucking hard, and watching her pleasure herself only intensified it. She continued to stroke and finger herself and I started to grow impatient; I needed her hands on my dick.

“Babe. Dick,” I ordered, and she grinned wickedly at me, the fucking tease. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

When her hand grasped my cock a moment later, pleasure shot through me and I shut my eyes for a moment before opening them again and focusing my gaze on what her hands were doing. One hand was fingering herself and the other was pumping my cock; it was fucking heaven, and I felt it build in me. She was getting closer too. Her eyes were at half-mast and she bit her bottom lip while her tongue darted out every now and then to lick them.

Just as I was about to tell her to get her sweet pussy onto my dick, she stopped everything she was doing, and did just as I wanted. I groaned as she sank down onto me and when she started moving, I reached my hands to grip onto her ass. The pressure built and she fucked me harder, tits bouncing all over the place, and I enjoyed the view; it was a fucking glorious sight. And then she screamed as the orgasm hit her. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes as she let it take over her body. I reached my hands around to her tits and started pumping my dick up into her, trying to find my own release. And it was so fucking close; I could feel it coming as I pumped, and pumped, and then it hit. Fuck me! Fucking hell! I came hard, and we held onto it for as long as we could.

Coming off the high, she lay down next to me on her back, one hand flung across my stomach. I placed my hand over hers, lacing our fingers together, and waited to see if she was still angry at me. Madison was highly unpredictable. Well, as far as I was concerned, she was. Make-up sex seemed to calm her, so I could only fucking hope.

She turned to look at me, so I rolled onto my side, propping my body up on my elbow. Tracing a line on her stomach, I started, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Do you even know what you are sorry for, J?” she asked, with that slightly frustrated tone that she often took with me.

“For a million fucking things, but mostly for being an asshole to you today, and for not returning your calls,” I answered her truthfully.

Her eyes searched mine for a moment and then she said, “You were an asshole to me today and I didn’t like it. I get that you were busy with work but you’ve got to understand that I was worried about you. With all the shit going on at the moment, I needed to hear your voice, needed to know you were okay. And then to speak to me the way you did… that hurt, J.” Her vulnerability shone through her voice, hitting me square in the chest.

I reached my hand up to her face and cupped her cheek. “This is gonna take a lot of work, isn’t it?”

Confusion flashed across her face. “Do you want out?” she half whispered, and I could sense the tension settling over her.

“No, baby. I told you this was forever, and I meant it. It’s just hitting me now, though, how much we are going to have to put in to make it good. But I need you to know that I want to do the work. I want this to be the best damn thing in our lives.”

She took a moment to process my words and I knew when she had, because she let the tension in her body go and smiled. “Me too, J. I tried so hard today not to get mad at you about the phone calls and I’m sorry if it came across like I was trying to keep track of you, because I really wasn’t. I don’t expect you to be there whenever I want you, and I’m not trying to change you.”

“Right. So, tomorrow we make it better. But, I need you to know that this could take some time on my end.”

She laughed. “Yeah, baby, because changing assholey ways is a very time-consuming project. You’re just lucky I’m a patient woman.”

I grinned at her and thanked my lucky fucking stars for her. No other woman would ever come close to her.

19

MADISON

FRIDAY FLEW BY, and before I knew it, it was the afternoon and I was waiting at the clubhouse for Serena to arrive. It had been a long and at times hard week, and I was so grateful she was coming to visit. The funeral for Bec and Georgie had been that morning, and it had been tough to sit through. Thinking about the lives needlessly taken, and watching Crystal deal with her loss, was awful. She was a strong girl, but I worried about her and probably always would. Brooke seemed to be coping well with Crystal, and I surprised myself, but I was happy they had each other.

After the funeral, J had to do some club work. When I asked him what it was, he got shitty with me and said I had to trust him, and stop asking those types of questions. This had, of course, led to an argument, because all I had been trying to do was show an interest in what he did. I apologised and tried to explain where I’d been coming from, but I’d already annoyed him and so we hadn’t resolved it before he left.

I checked my watch. It was just after four o’clock and I still hadn’t heard from Serena. Needing some fresh air, I took myself outside and sat on the hood of J’s Jeep. Going over and over my conversation with him from that morning was not helping me; it was just making me frustrated with the whole situation. And that was not good for our relationship.

I heard the rumble of a bike, and turned to see J pulling in. He parked his bike and walked towards me, a grim look on his face. “Babe, what are you doing out here by yourself?” he asked, coming to a stop just in front of me, but making no move to kiss me hello.

I slid off the car to put myself closer to him, and put my hand on his chest; our bodies almost touching. “I’ve been thinking about stuff. About you.”

He frowned. “What stuff?”

“I’m sorry I caused a misunderstanding between us this morning. I want to know about the things going on in your life, that’s all. Not necessarily about your club stuff, just about you.”

His body relaxed and he placed his hand over mine on his chest. Breathing out a long breath, he said, “Okay.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Do you trust me? Trust that anything I do is done for a good reason?”

“I do, but—”

He cut me off. “Either you do, or you don’t, babe.”

“Okay, I do.”

He nodded. “Right, so you need to trust me on this one.”

We stood, eyeing each other while I weighed what he had said. Finally, I agreed, “All right, I will.”

“Good,” he muttered, and pulled me to him, wrapping me in his arms. He laid a kiss on the top of my head, and then said, “I love you. Love what you do for me.”

“I love you, too.” And I did. But fuck this was hard; fighting against all my instincts to need to know more. I just hoped that over time it would get easier, and that we would find a happy middle ground where he would share some things and I would be able to let some things go.

I HUNG UP FROM SERENA, disappointed. One of the girls she worked with had been in a car accident and was stuck in hospital, which meant that Serena had to cover all of her shifts. Although I was sorry for her workmate, it meant that I wouldn’t get to see her anytime soon and that sucked. I’d been looking forward to girly time this weekend, especially some deep and meaningfuls about my relationship with J. Serena had a way of helping me see situations from a different angle, and I felt like I really needed her insights at the moment.

“What’s got you all sad, sweet thing?”

I looked up to see Nash settling onto the stool next to me. We were sitting at the club bar which was starting to fill up. Friday nights were usually busy. I smiled at him and answered, “My best friend was supposed to be visiting for the weekend, but can’t come now.”

“Ah, I see. You wanna hang out with me instead?” He winked. “There’s cock in it for you if you want.”

I shoved him hard enough that he had to balance himself to stay on the stool, but we both laughed while I did it. “Oh, my God! You never stop, do you?” I said.

“What can I say… you inspire me.” He grinned.

“Tell me, Nash, why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’re a good looking guy and you’re fun, and I’ve seen the way the ladies are all over you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t need the hassle that would bring, sweetheart. Not when all I want is a bit of pussy, and like you said, that’s easy enough to get whenever I want it.”

“How old are you, Nash?”

“Thirty-five. Why?”

“Do you want kids? Maybe a wife one day?”

“Fuck, no!” He was emphatic.

I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Really?”

“The world’s got enough fucked-up people in it. I don’t need to add to that, and as far as a wife goes, I don’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone,” he answered me, the joking tone of the conversation replaced with total seriousness.

I cocked my head. “But you’re tied to Storm, aren’t you?”

“Sure am, and that’s the only family I’ll ever be tied to,” he said with absolute certainty.

I didn’t get his decision, but there was no point pursuing it because who was I to tell him what to want, so I simply said, “Fair enough. It’s your life.”

He flashed his cheeky grin at me again, all seriousness gone. “You and J talking babies yet?”

I whacked him again. “God, no!”

He pretended to shield himself from me. “Settle down, darlin’. I’m just teasing you.”

Of course, it was at this point when Nash and I were mucking about and smacking each other that J should walk into the room. I saw him stalking towards us. I took in the shitty look on his face, and instantly pulled away from Nash. It was an instinctual move; probably the right one given J’s current mood.

“Nash,” he growled when he got to us, “keep your fucking hands off Madison.”

Nash stood up and stepped into J’s space so they were head to head. His grin and laughing eyes had been replaced with a menacing glare as he said, “I didn’t have my fuckin’ hands on her.”

Oh, God. That was my cue to leave these two alone. “I’ll be back soon,” I said, but neither of them really acknowledged me. Shaking my head, I walked in the direction of the ladies room, hoping that they sorted their issues out by the time I came back.

WHEN I RETURNED ten minutes later, Nash was gone and J was downing a beer. He didn’t drink often so he must have had a bad day. As I reached him, I settled my hand on his lower back and asked, “Did you rip his head off?”

He turned to me, annoyance in his eyes. “I don’t like the way he flirts with you.”

“He’s harmless and he knows where I stand.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll bother you again. I’ve sorted that out now,” he grunted.

“Mmm, I’m sure you have,” I mused.

“Did you get hold of Serena?” He changed the subject which was probably a good idea. We were in unsafe territory talking about Nash.

“Yeah, she’s not coming. She can’t get out of work.”

“Sorry, babe. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the weekend,” he said, a wicked look crossing his face. “Can’t be a bad thing. I’m sure we’ll think of things to pass the time.”

I moved closer to him and moved my hand down to his ass. “Promise?” I asked.

He leaned towards me and brushed my lips with his, grinning at me afterwards. “Absolutely. Now, let’s get you home. I need to get inside you.”

20

MADISON

I ROLLED OFF J, and laid on my back, arms sprawled and huge grin plastered on my face. “Fuck, anytime you want to do that again, just let me know.”

He shifted onto his side so he was facing me and smiled. “I want to do that to you all the fucking time, baby.”

I eyed him. “Well, you’ll have to wait for a bit because we have shopping to do this morning.”

He shook his head and looked pained. “You might have shopping to do, babe, but I sure as shit don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You’re coming with me, to help me find new clothes,” I informed him.

It was Saturday morning, and we had enjoyed a lazy sleep in and fantastic wake-up sex. It was time for J to man-up and come shopping with me.

“I think you can find clothes all by yourself,” he muttered as he got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom.

Just before he closed the door, I yelled out, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get some really short dresses and tight skirts.”

He didn’t reply but five minutes later when he emerged, he muttered, “Get up, babe. We’ve got shopping to do.”

I smiled to myself. He was so easy to manipulate sometimes.

We got ready and were out the door an hour later, J grumbling that it had taken me so long to get ready. “I’m not sure why it takes you so long, babe.”

I pointed at my face and my hair. “Do you think women just wake up looking this good?” I asked him.

“You looked good to me an hour ago, before you put all that shit on your face,” he said, opening the car door for me and helping me in.

I smiled at him as he shut the door, and waited for him to come around the car and get in before saying, “Sometimes you say the sweetest things.”

“So, how long does shopping take? Tell me it’s quick,” he almost begged.

I laughed. “You’ll be home for dinner,” I promised, with a teasing wink.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Fuck.”

THREE HOURS LATER, I had purchased an entire new wardrobe, and J had reached the end of his patience. I was surprised and impressed he had lasted that long. The morning had started out fun with him enjoying some private little shows as I tried on numerous outfits. This had almost ended in us screwing in one of the dressing rooms, but the sales assistant had put a stop to that and asked us to leave. J hadn’t been impressed with her and had told her exactly what he thought of her, and her uptight pussy. She had threatened to call the police so I dragged him out of there before the situation got completely out of hand.

We had visited a stack of stores and J was insistent that this was the last one. I’d just tried on a dress I knew I had to have, and J was leaning against the changing room door watching me. Stepping out of the dress, I handed it to him and said, “This one’s a definite.”

He took it and eyed my body, clad only in bra and panties. “Babe, that’s the last one. You’re driving me crazy here. Three hours of watching you get in and out of dresses, and my dick is having a fit.” He stepped closer to me and wrapped his hands around my ass, pulling me into him so that I could feel his erection. Dipping his head, he stole my mouth in a kiss. Hard and passionate, the kiss hit me in my core and I moaned with pleasure. He deepened the kiss, and reached one hand into my panties to touch my clit, slowly circling it. “You want me to fuck you with my finger or my dick?” His voice was low and rough.

“What do you think, baby?” I responded. As if there was any choice between the two.

He chuckled. “Thought so.” Continuing to massage my clit, he backed me up against the wall, while I undid his jeans and pulled his cock free. I stroked it, circling the tip every couple of strokes. He groaned into my mouth, “Christ, babe. Really need in you now. This isn’t gonna take long, not after you’ve been working me up all morning.”

I lifted one leg to wrap around his waist and he pulled the other leg up. His cock sat at my entrance and, unable to wait any longer, I pushed myself against him so that he entered me. I was so wet for him that he slid straight in, filling me, and setting off a wave of pleasure.

J grunted as he pulled back out, and then thrust in hard, his balls slapping me. He set a fast pace and, knowing my tendency to scream, he lent his elbow against the wall to steady himself while he covered my mouth with his hand. It was a blur of bodies slapping together, eyes meeting between thrusts, and intense pleasure shooting through my body. J hadn’t been kidding when he said it wouldn’t last long; not even ten minutes later and he came, with me not far behind.

He leaned against me for a moment, and then pulled out and let me down. “That’s what you get for teasing me for three fucking hours.” He smirked, tucking his cock back into his jeans and fastening his jeans.

“I might bring you shopping more often, baby.” I winked and got dressed.

Grabbing the dress I wanted to buy, J opened the door and we headed out to the sales counter to make our purchase. It was a busy Saturday morning in the shop, and from the looks we were getting, I was pretty sure everyone had heard us screwing. I just grinned at them, not giving a shit what anyone thought. The sales assistant fawned all over J as he paid for my dress. He hadn’t let me pay for anything today, and after arguing with him for the first two hours, I had given up and just let him pay. Honestly, sometimes it was just easier not to argue with the man. And besides, I was grateful that he bought me all those clothes.

J finished up the transaction while I did my best to ignore the flirting that the sales assistant was doing. It really pissed me off though; she could see we were together, that he was buying me a dress and had most likely heard us having sex. So, why the fuck did she think it was okay to openly flirt with him in front of me?

I checked her name badge. Kate. Yeah, that figured. The only Kate’s I knew were sluts, and this one wasn’t any different.

“Fucking bitch,” I grumbled under my breath, and J stopped what he was doing to turn and look at me.

He obviously hadn’t heard what I said because he lent down and whispered in my ear, “What did you say, baby?”

As he pulled away to wait for my answer, I muttered, louder this time, “I said, fucking bitch.”

He grinned at me, realising what I was getting at, and came back towards me, capturing my mouth in a passionate kiss. When he was finished, he said, “God, I love you.”

I grinned back at him. “I love you too.”

J CONVINCED me to go on a bike ride with him that afternoon. I figured it was only fair after he spent all morning shopping with me. Being on the back of his bike was something I enjoyed anyway, and it was a beautiful sunny day so I enjoyed the afternoon with him. We rode for just over an hour, heading out along the coastline. He bought us burgers and chips for lunch, and we sat on the beach and ate. I loved this quiet time with J, away from everyone else. Being back together meant that we had to figure each other out again. We had picked up almost like we had never been apart; we knew each other so well that it had been easy to do. However, as much as we knew each other, we had been apart for years and had both grown and changed a little, so I craved some time with him to discover these things about each other.

We arrived back home around five o’clock. Storm clouds had rolled in and the wind had picked up. Our plans for the night had been to go out for dinner and a movie, but with the change in the weather, we decided to order in and watch a movie at home. J had some calls to return before dinner so I jumped in the shower while he did that.

As I walked into the living room after my shower, I realised we had company. Scott was sitting with J on the couch, their heads together while they talked quietly. They stopped talking when they realised I had entered the room.

“Babe, I need to go out for awhile. There’s been some trouble at Indigo that we need to sort out. Stoney’s outside keeping watch until I get back,” J said.

Indigo was one of the strip clubs that Storm owned, so I could only imagine the kind of trouble they had to go and sort out. I sighed. “Okay,” I agreed, disappointed our evening had been wrecked.

They both stood and Scott headed outside, answering his ringing phone as he went. J came to me, and held my face with both his hands. He looked genuinely sorry, so I cut him some slack. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and hurry things along so I can get back here soon,” he promised, laying a quick kiss on my forehead.

And then he was gone. And I was alone on a Saturday night.

21

MADISON

J AND I settled into a routine over the next couple of months. Mandy no longer seemed to be a threat so life went on as normal. While still his usual bossy self, J backed off a little and gave me some space, which helped cement our relationship further. He dropped me off at work and picked me up when I was finished each day, while he took care of Storm business. Some days we also managed to get lunch together. Our nights were filled with time rebuilding our relationship. Some nights he got called out for club business, but thankfully, those nights weren’t too often.

It was the weekends that I lived for. J was around for most of them, and along with spending time with our family and friends, we devoted a lot of time to just the two of us. When he said he would do the work to rebuild our relationship he’d been telling the truth, and I was the happiest I had ever been.

I was also trying hard to be a better girlfriend. This was hard sometimes, because J still refused to tell me much about club business. And it still pissed me off. Mostly though, I managed to keep my mouth shut and not argue with him about it. I was still hopeful that over time, he would come around.

Crystal was doing okay. J and I spent a lot of time with her and Brooke, and I was surprised at how well we were all getting along. We regularly helped Brooke out, looking after Crystal so she could have some time to herself. We were all still in shock that Bec was gone, and navigating our way through the grief tied us all together.

It was a Tuesday afternoon that my bubble burst. I was working at O’s, the little boutique dress shop that I loved coming to every day, when a blast from my past waltzed in and blew shit all over my life.

“Mandy.” I sucked in a breath, and fear sliced through me. The crazy look in her eyes scared the shit out of me, and my hand automatically reached for the phone to ring J.

As far as I knew, Mandy had disappeared and the club no longer considered her a threat. How wrong they had been about that.

“Don’t!” she screamed. I dropped my hand. My heart rate picked up and my legs felt shaky. The room began to close in on me as I waited for her next move.

She stalked to where I was, not stopping until she was in my personal space. Her nostrils flared and I watched the veins popping in her neck. She jabbed a finger at my chest, the force making me momentarily lose my balance. “Nix’s death is fucking on you, bitch! The day he met you, his death warrant was signed, and I’m going to fucking make you pay!” She screeched her warning.

Not often in life was i rendered speechless. It was, however, one of those times. My immediate reaction was to fight, but I quickly moved through scenarios of how that could play out, and decided against it. Assessing her, I thought she was probably high, and that was not a good thing to go up against. Thank goodness there were no customers or other staff in the store for her to threaten.

I didn’t have to wait long to see what she would do next. She glared at me, daggers in her look, and then she shoved me backwards, and turned and strode to the door.

Before she closed the door, she shot one last threat at me, “You better watch your back, cunt. You’ve got no fucking idea!” And then she left.

I almost collapsed, my legs weak. My breathing all over the place, I struggled to get that under control while I rummaged under the counter for the front door keys. My agenda only had two things on it: lock the door and call J.

“Babe, I’m kinda busy right now,” he answered with that impatient tone he sometimes used on me. And that just served to piss me off. Being pissed off I could handle. It was an emotion I welcomed any day over terror.

“Yeah, well, babe, I think you might want to stop what you’re doing and listen the fuck up.”

Yeah, fear had definitely left and anger had walked right on in, and settled itself down.

“What the fuck, Madison?” It was J’s turn to get shitty.

“I’ve just had a visit from Mandy,” I threw it out there, and waited for it to wrap itself around his head.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear for a moment. “Are you okay?” Even though his voice was still angry, I heard the softness for me in there, melting some of my anger away.

“Yeah, baby, but I need you. Can you come now?”

“I’m already on my way,” he said, and the relief hit me like a gush of wind.

“Thank you,” I breathed out, my anger dispersing with it.

We ended the call and I waited for him. My mind raced with crazy thoughts threaded with fear.

And then it hit me.

Fuck.

I needed a drink.

22

JASON

FUCK!

SCOTT, GRIFF and I arrived at Madison’s work within half an hour of receiving her call, and she was nowhere to be found. The shop was locked and she didn’t answer the door, so Scott had broken the lock. She wasn’t there. And she wasn’t answering her goddamn phone.

I raked my fingers through my hair. Where the fuck could she be?

And then Griff voiced what we were all thinking. “Do we think Mandy came back for her?”

“I’ll fucking kill that cunt if she touches Madison!” I roared and turned to leave the empty shop.

“Brother, I’ll kill her even if she doesn’t,” Scott promised me, and I nodded at him in silent agreement.

Scott pulled out his phone and called Marcus to break the bad news to him. They came up with a plan of attack and we began our search for Madison.

TWO HOURS LATER, we still hadn’t located either of them. Desperation was setting in and Scott was beyond a state of rage. I didn’t think he loved anyone as much as he loved his sister.

We arrived back at the clubhouse to regroup. All the boys were there. Madison meant so much to all of them, and it was a sombre mood that permeated the room.

Marcus took control. “I want every fucking person tied up with that bitch to be grilled. One of them has to know where she is. Scott will coordinate,” he directed, and then left the room. I wasn’t sure where or what he was doing, and even though it was odd that he would leave us to do this on our own, it wasn’t my concern. Finding Madison was my only priority.

I got my directions off Scott and headed out. My first stop was only ten minutes from the clubhouse, and as I pulled up, my phone started ringing.

It was Brooke. “Hey, sis,” I answered, hoping she was okay.

“J, are you with Madison today?” Nervousness laced her voice.

Unease hit me in the gut. “No. She got a visit from Nix’s crazy sister, and now we can’t find her. Why? Have you heard something?”

“I think she might be at Hyde’s.”

“What?” I struggled to make the connection.

Brooke sighed. “J, I think she’s been drinking. One of my friends just called me and suggested I get you down there to stop her.

Unease slid right through me and fury took its place.

“Thanks, I’m on my way now,” I bit out and hung up.

I WALKED through the doors of Hyde’s pub ten minutes later. A combination of the struggle of watching Madison lose herself to alcohol years ago mixed with the burning anger and resentment I still held towards my alcoholic mother, meant that I lost it.

She sat at a table with some guy and a drink in front of her.

I saw red and stalked to where she sat. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled at her.

When she turned her face to look up at me, the conflict I saw in her eyes hit me in the gut. However, my anger and disappointment with her were too far gone to slow me down.

I met the dude’s eyes. “Get the fuck out of here!” I roared. He shrugged and left. Yeah, smart move, motherfucker.

“I’m sorry.” She shifted her gaze away from mine as she uttered the words.

“Have you had any yet?” I demanded, clenching my fists by my side.

She shook her head but refused to meet my eyes. “No,” she almost whispered and I could hear the agony in her voice. And still I couldn’t dial my disappointment back. Alcoholism was something I struggled to understand and I thought she’d moved past these kinds of setbacks.

I thought she was stronger.

I picked up the glass of alcohol and carried it to the bar. Depositing it there, I stalked back to Madison.

She finally turned her face to me. “Please don’t be mad, J.” Her eyes begged me in the same way her voice did.

I didn’t want to be mad, but, shit, I couldn’t stop the emotions as they rolled through me. Rubbing the back of my neck, I grit out, “It’s time to go.”

She stared at me for a long few moments and right when I thought she was about to say something, Scott rang. While I took his call and filled him in on where Madison was, she slid off her seat and walked outside without saying a word.

I followed her in silence. It was better that we didn’t speak; with my conflicted thoughts, I wasn’t sure I could be trusted not to say something we couldn’t come back from.

23

MADISON

I WAITED FOR IT.

Whatever he was going to say was nothing compared to what I was screaming at myself. I hated myself. Hated that I had let myself almost drink again.

The energy instantly changed when he entered the house. He seemed to be filled with rage and disappointment. It was the disappointment that pierced my heart the most. To have a loved one disappointed in you, was one of the worst feelings in the world. I wanted to run from him and never look back. Never have to experience the look he was giving me.

We stood there, watching each other for what felt like eternity. I crossed my arms, as if by doing so, I could shield myself from him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and I noticed the muscles in his neck twitch.

Finally, he spoke. “Why?”

Out of all the things to ask an alcoholic, that was maybe the one thing we never wanted to be asked. For me, anyway. Because, it was the one question that I sometimes couldn’t answer. Or maybe, it was the one question I didn’t want to answer.

I sighed, and fell into the couch behind me, dropping my face into my hands.

“I asked you why!” His voice boomed throughout the room.

Shocked, I jumped in my seat. I looked up at him. “I don’t know.” My words were pathetic, and he knew it.

“That’s not a fucking answer, Madison. Tell me why.”

Fucked. I was fucked. The situation was fucked, and I wondered if J and I were fucked. Again.

Resentment at what was happening flared in me. I stood and came face to face with him. “Have you ever made a mistake in your life that you felt like you couldn’t come back from?”

“Yes.” That was all he said, but it was enough for me to run with.

“I don’t know if I can come back from what we did to Rob,” I admitted. Finally. It had taken me years to say those words.

He looked confused. “You haven’t had a drink in over two years, and then today you want a drink because of Rob?”

I shook my head. “Today wasn’t because of Rob directly, but can’t you see, J? Everything bad that has happened since then has been because we killed him.”

“I killed him. Not you. And I still don’t see what you’re saying.”

“You only killed him because of me. And then, because of that, I started drinking. We broke up. I dated Nix. And the shit we’re in now is because of all that!” I laid it all out for him. Why couldn’t he see it?

“Babe, your thinking is fucked up. I get what you’re saying, but it’s fucked up. Everything in life has a consequence. If we all started analysing shit like you are, we’d all be screwed.”

“Alcohol takes away the shittiness I feel in my soul about it all. I haven’t felt like that for a long time, but Mandy brought it all back to me today. In answer to your question, that’s why.”

“Not fucking good enough, babe. You could have come to me, talked it through—”

I cut him off. He just didn’t get it; he probably never would. “I don’t want to talk about it, J! Talking doesn’t solve anything; the problems won’t go away just because we talk about it.”

Pacing, he ran his hands madly through his hair. “I think you should go to bed. This is obviously not the right time for us to discuss this,” he said.

My heart sunk and my shame almost swallowed me. I wanted desperately to help him understand but he was right – this wasn’t the time to talk. We both needed some space and some time to calm down and get our thinking straight.

I nodded. “You’re right,” I agreed softly and with one last look at him, I turned and left the room.

Tomorrow was another day and hopefully he’d give me a chance then to explain myself.

I need him to understand.

Without his support, I wasn’t sure how I’d move past this setback.

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up alone. J didn’t come to bed. My head pounded from the stress and my heart was bleeding. I didn’t know where our argument had left us.

I showered and got ready for the day. I also wasn’t sure if I still had a job since I had just left the shop in the middle of the afternoon. The house was so quiet, and I wondered if J had already left.

When I made it out to the kitchen, I found a note on the bench. J had left early, on club business. I felt a reprieve, if only for a short time. But it gave me the space I needed to get my head together, and start sorting through all the crap in there.

I had some toast for breakfast and guzzled some water. I also popped a few painkillers to try and ease the massive headache I had. Christ, what a mess I had gotten myself in. I resisted the urge to call Serena or Blake; they didn’t need this shit dumped on them. I would deal with this myself.

My day took another dip in the crappy direction when I walked outside to go to work. Someone had slashed all the tyres on J’s Jeep. Fuck! Not what we needed! I called for a taxi and then phoned a tyre shop to come and organise the replacement of all the tyres. J didn’t need to be bothered with this; I would sort it out for him. He already had enough on his plate.

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, I was at work, my boss not even aware that I’d left early the previous day. She hadn’t come in that morning, so I was able to get the shop in order so she never even realised anything was wrong. At last, something was going my way. My headache was starting to ease, so that was another positive to my morning. At that point, I needed to count all the positives; otherwise, I would drown in the negatives.

My senses went into overdrive when I heard the rumbling of a bike. Shit. J.

I took a peek outside, and sure enough, it was him. He cut the engine, yanked his helmet off, and strode into the shop.

“Do you care to tell me why there are men changing tyres on my Jeep?” he snapped.

I met his eyes, refusing to bow under his anger. “Oh, go to hell, J. I was trying to do you a favour.”

“I appreciate that, but why didn’t you call me?”

“I was trying to help you because I know you’ve got a lot on at the moment. You didn’t need to be worried with anything else to take care of.”

He took a deep breath, holding it in. Then he blew it out on a frustrated exhale. “That’s a problem for me,” he stated, his jaw clenching.

Oh, good God. What was his fucking problem? “Why?” I maintained my calm.

“Babe, we’re together, are we not?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. We’re together. So, when something like that happens, we handle it together.”

My stomach fluttered, and want pooled there, leaving me stunned. “Okay,” I half whispered.

“Good,” he said, and then his features softened. “I’ve got a long day today, but I want us to talk tonight.”

I nodded, the fight gone from me. “Yeah, baby.”

He reached out and curved his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. “I love you,” he murmured, and his lips met mine in a hard kiss.

“I love you, too.”

I watched him go, my thoughts and feelings in turmoil. J had not reacted at all how I thought he would. A glimmer of hope peeked out; maybe there was a chance for us after all.

24

MADISON

J ARRIVED HOME after ten that night. I’d been sleeping on the couch on and off, waiting for him. He came into the house and headed straight into the bedroom. I waited silently for him to come back out; I had absolutely no idea where our conversation was headed.

“You’ve had dinner?” he said, as he came back into the lounge room.

“Yeah. I made you some if you haven’t eaten.”

He smiled at me. I let the gesture settle over me and wrap itself around my heart. If we were going to get anywhere, I would need to keep a hold of that. I feared we were in for another tense discussion.

“Thanks, baby. I ate with the boys, so I’ll put it in the fridge for tomorrow,” he said as he went to the kitchen to take care of it.

I got up and followed him, the need to be near him overwhelming. He turned to me when he heard me enter the kitchen behind him. I stepped into his space, and wrapped my arms around him, inhaling his scent and brushing his neck with my lips.

A groan escaped his lips, and his arms encircled me too. He bent to lay a kiss on my head, and then he murmured, “I was so worried about you yesterday, and relieved when I found out you were okay. But babe, you scared the fuck out of me by almost drinking.”

I pulled away a little bit so that I could look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I think I scared myself too. I’m so ashamed,” I admitted.

He reached his hand out to my chin, and held it gently, tenderly. “Don’t be ashamed. Okay? You need to move past this and that won’t help you. It was a bad day, and yeah, you didn’t handle it the best. But babe, we all have days like that. It’s how you handle it now, and the next time it happens, that counts. And, I need you to know I’m here for you. I want to be the person you turn to when shit gets real. Can you let me be that for you?”

The tears started falling and I was helpless to stop them. I nodded, struggling to speak. Finally, the words came. “I thought you were going to leave me,” I said quietly.

Pain flashed in his eyes. “Fuck, babe. No, that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Yeah, I was mad as hell at you, but this, what we’ve got here…this is for-fucking-ever. I love you no matter what you do. It’s unconditional for me.”

At those words, his promise, I sagged against him. He would never know how much I needed to hear that. “Thank you.”

“We’re going to have a lot more fights. You know that, right?” he said.

I smiled. “Yeah, I’ve worked that out.”

“So we need to agree right fucking now that this is forever. That we’re on the same page here. Are you in this for the long haul?”

I touched my hand to his cheek and let it linger there. “Yes, I am. I love you. Unconditionally.”

He bowed his head and breathed hard for a moment. Then he looked back up at me. The love I saw there smacked into me, leaving me winded. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he said, his voice full of raw emotion.

“Oh, I think I might, baby. I needed it tonight too.”

He took my hand and kissed it, softly. “We’ve got a lot more to talk through, but for now, I just want to take you to bed and show you how much I love you.”

I smiled and let him lead me to the bedroom. As we walked, I peeled clothes off, leaving them throughout the house. When we made it to the bedroom, he turned and ran his gaze over my naked body. I watched as his eyes glazed over with desire, my nipples hardening under his stare.

He reached his hand out to trace a line from my lips, down my neck, and to my breast. As his fingers found my nipple, he brought his mouth down to meet it and licked and sucked my breasts, one at a time. His other hand came up, so that both of them were massaging my breasts, while his tongue drove me wild.

I moved my hands to lift his shirt over his head, and he stopped what he was doing to allow this. Once it was off, I quickly reached to undo his jeans, and remove them too. My breathing picked up, and my fingers ached with a need to touch, to feel, and to show him how much I wanted him.

He stood before me, naked and beautiful. There wasn’t anything about J’s body I would change. I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart, and held it there while I focused my eyes on his. The invisible thread that held us together sizzled with desire and white hot lust. But tonight, it held something more; a burning love that had been buried under layers of doubt, guilt and hurt. Our love shined brightly; we had finally found our way through, and peeled away those layers by committing completely to each other. We had promised forever, and those words had exposed the raw love that existed between us.

J felt it too. I could see it in the way he looked at me. Hunger for this man engulfed me. I moved my hand up to curl around his neck, and pulled his mouth down to mine. Our kiss was deep and full of need. His hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to him. I moaned when his erection hit my body. God, I loved his cock.

“I need to taste you, baby. Need my tongue in that sweet pussy of yours,” he murmured into my ear, while backing me up against the wall.

I didn’t argue as he knelt in front of me and spread my legs. When his tongue hit my clit, I scrunched my fingers in his hair, and cried out with pleasure. He grunted his satisfaction, and slid his tongue down and into my pussy. Oh, holy fuck, it felt divine. His hands moved slowly up the backs of my legs until they hit my ass. He kneaded my bottom, while his tongue continued to lick and stroke my sex.

Pleasure moved through me until my whole body was alive with it. When he began to fuck me with his fingers, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I came. The pleasure intensified and built, until it crashed all around me, and I came with his mouth wrapped around my pussy.

My hands still in his hair, I pulled him up to me, to kiss him. I needed his tongue in my mouth. And the taste of me in his mouth only made me want him more. I groaned into his mouth, and pushed my body closer into his. My arms wound tightly around him, fingers clawing his back. One leg was wrapped around one of his, and all of a sudden, he gripped my ass and lifted me, carrying me to the bed.

As I fell to the bed, he leaned over me and smiled. “Fuck, I love fucking you. But tonight I want to make love.”

I shook my head, and trailed a finger down his chest. “No, baby. Fucking is our way of making love. I want you to fuck me.” And with that, I reached down to his cock, gripped it hard and pulled him to me.

“Fuck!” he roared, and thrust in, hard, just the way I liked it.

A deliciously wicked grin flashed across his face, and then our lips were locked while he fucked me just like I’d asked him to.

25

MADISON

I STARTED GOING to regular AA meetings again. J insisted, but I had already decided it would be an important part of my life. I had fooled myself into believing I was better than everyone at those meetings; that somehow I didn’t really need to be there. I was wrong.

It was a month after my near miss and things between J and I were good. I was worried though; there was something bothering him and he wasn’t talking to me about it. He was sharing more with me and even though I sensed he still didn’t tell me a lot, I knew he was trying, and that was all I could ask for. Strong relationships weren’t built quickly; I knew it would take a lot of work, so I was being patient. And yet, I felt it in my gut that something wasn’t quite right with him.

The club still hadn’t found Mandy, so I guessed he was stressed about that. I’d brushed my concerns away for a few weeks, but that week he seemed even more preoccupied with whatever it was. He was being elusive, and there also seemed to be some tension between him and Scott.

It all came to a head on the Friday afternoon of that week. I was waiting for J at the clubhouse when Griff wandered into the bar and locked eyes on me. Now, there was a man who I wasn’t quite sure what to make of. He’d been a member of Storm for about three years and I still knew nothing about him except that he liked to keep to himself. If I had to choose one word to describe him, it would be broody. I took in his appearance. He was tall with dark hair that was a little long, kind of like he just needed a good haircut, but I liked the ruggedness of it. He also always wore a five-o’clock shadow; another great feature as far as I was concerned. I liked a man who wasn’t perfect looking and he definitely fit the bill. Griff was one of the only bikers I knew who wasn’t covered in ink; well, ink that could be seen anyway. His tanned skin was clear of them on his arms, neck and hands. I had no idea if he had any on his legs as I had never seen them.

His green eyes penetrated mine, and I felt a little disloyal to J with the sensations he evoked in me. His voice was deep and commanding when he spoke, “Scott wants to see you in the office.”

“And why couldn’t Scott come and see me?” I asked.

“In the office now, Madison,” his voice rumbled, and his hand slid around my back to guide me in the direction he wanted me to go.

I wanted to argue with him, but something about Griff told me not to bother. If it was at all possible, he seemed bossier than J, with an air about him that screamed not to challenge. So, I did what I was told and went to see Scott, with Griff close behind.

Scott was sitting at my father’s desk when we found him, and he looked up with a frustrated look on his face. Putting his pen down, he motioned for me to sit. Griff closed the door behind us and stood next to my chair. My senses went into overdrive; something wasn’t right here.

Scott finally spoke, “Are you up on what J’s been doing this week?”

“I’ve got no idea what J does with his time when he’s not with me,” I answered truthfully.

“Fuck,” Scott cursed and shot a look at Griff, who nodded and then exited the room.

Okay, I was really confused. “What’s going on, Scott?”

He sighed and then gave me a hard look, like he was contemplating just how much to share with me. “I was hoping you could tell us because we sure as fuck don’t know what he’s doing.”

“Spit the rest out, Scott. What are you hiding from me?”

“Shit, Madison, this is club business,” he snapped, and paused for a moment, rubbing his chin and scowling at me before continuing, “We’re pretty sure he’s still out there looking for Mandy, even though we’ve told him to stop. Problem is, it’s bringing heat to the club because that bitch is tied to a gang who don’t much appreciate the way J is going about it. Seems he is harassing their members for information.”

I decided it was time to back my man. “Why isn’t the club interested in finding her and dealing with her? That bitch threatened me.”

“Again, club fucking business, but seems as though I know you won’t let this go… she’s dating one of the head guys of the gang. We take her out, and who fucking knows what will come of it. They don’t mess around, and we don’t need a war. J needs to be smart about this, but I think his head is all messed up with you.”

“So you’re happy to leave me a sitting target.”

“No. We’re watching you when J’s not with you, making sure you’re okay—”

I cut him off. “This sounds very fucking familiar, Scott. Reminiscent of what happened with Nix. Only this time, I’m not going to lay down and wait for her to come to me,” I ranted at him before storming out of the office.

As I was leaving, I ran into my father. He looked tired, and there was something else there that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“I heard your argument with Scott. There’s more to this that you don’t know, and I’m asking you to leave it be. And get J to leave it alone too.” His words held a warning. I searched his eyes, his face, and then I realised what other emotion he was running on. Fear.

“What is it?” I asked, even though I was fairly sure he wouldn’t tell me.

“Not going there with you, Madison. But leave it the fuck alone,” he ordered harshly.

His words stung. I hated it when he spoke to me like that. I met his glare. “Sometimes, I fucking hate this club and your bullshit ways of hiding stuff,” I spat.

He opened his mouth to say something, but my mother caught both our eyes, and he went quiet. I was stunned at her appearance. Her face was stained with black mascara. There was also a red mark on her cheek; it looked like she’d been slapped. She had entered the room we were in, but when she saw us, she went to leave.

Christ, what was wrong with her? My mother never cried. And then, looking from her to my father, and noting the displeasure that crossed both their faces, I realised what was going on. Clarity hit me fair in the gut, and shock sliced through my heart.

I whipped my head around to face him. “You fucking hit her?” I almost screamed.

He shoved his face in mine, and snarled, “I said, leave it fucking be.” And with that, he left me standing there, wondering what the hell was going on, and feeling like our lives were about to be tipped on their asses.

J.

I needed J. He wanted to be my go-to person, and at that moment, I needed him to be that.

26

MADISON

“HEY, BABE. WHAT’S up?” J answered his phone straight away.

Thank fuck.

“I need you, now.”

He must have sensed the urgency in my voice. “What’s wrong?” It was like he was on instant alert.

“Something’s happened. Between Mum and Dad. It’s bad, babe. Are you close to the clubhouse?”

“Fuck!” he swore. “I’m about ten minutes away. Sit tight. I won’t be long.”

“Okay. Thanks, baby.”

We hung up and I threw my phone in my bag. My mother had left without saying anything to me, and there was no way I was staying inside with my father still there, so I waited outside for J.

He must have sped the rest of the way, because he arrived within five minutes. When he went to cut the engine, I shook my head and indicated that I wanted to leave on his bike. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

I hopped on, and wrapped my arms around his body, nestling my head against his back. He made me feel safe, and in that instant, my heart expanded with love for him. Over the past few months, we’d been navigating the hills and valleys of our relationship. Some of those roads had been rocky, and we had clung to each other. I knew in my gut that we were about to hit a really fucking rugged valley, and that the only way through would be to hold onto J for dear life.

“SCOTT’S SHITTY with you and wants to know what you’ve been up to this week. And my father told me to leave it alone and to get you to do the same. What’s going on, J?” We’d made it home, and I was determined to get him to open up to me.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and looked pained. “Babe, this is stuff I don’t want you mixed up in; stuff I don’t want you worrying about.”

“No. We’re together. For the long haul, as you once put it. And I want to have your back, J. So, for me to do that, you’ve gotta start talking.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and began pacing.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. When he finally did start talking, he blew my world apart.

“I don’t want to tell you this. Fuck.” He sat on the couch, pulling me down with him. One hand grasped mine, and the other cupped my cheek. His thumb grazed my lips, and then finally, he spoke. “Mandy is running with a gang involved in drugs, prostitution and armed robberies. There could be other stuff, but that’s what I know of so far. They’re the kind of motherfuckers you don’t mess with, but she’s in deep. She’s been dating their leader, Blade, for the past year or so. He ran a smart operation but has been building his ranks up for a few years now. They’re big enough now that no one really wants to challenge them. Even Black Deeds leave them alone.”

He paused, so I said, “I got the impression from Scott and Dad that they don’t want to either, and I find that hard to believe. Storm is strong enough to do it.”

He nodded, and then said quietly, “There’s another reason why your Dad doesn’t want to take them on, babe. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

I had no idea what it could be, and why I wouldn’t like it. “What?”

He blew out a long breath before he continued. “Blade is your half-brother. He’s Marcus’s son.”

The room spun and I struggled to breathe. “What… how? Shit, does my mum know?” My thoughts and words weren’t coherent so I stopped talking.

“Your mother found out today, and I thought your father was going to tell you too—”

“Scott knows, doesn’t he?” I interrupted him.

“Yeah, babe. He’s known for a little while. I found out this week.”

“Does my dad have anything to do with Blade?”

The look that crossed J’s face could only be described as devastated. That was when I knew; that was the moment the love I had for my father crumbled in a bloody mess of lies and deceit.

“Yeah, babe,” he said softly, pulling me into a hug.

I welcomed his arms, his warmth, and sank into his love. We stayed like that for awhile; he gently caressed my hair and pressed his lips to my head. He was my shelter from the storm.

Eventually, I pulled away and asked him to tell me the rest.

“Blade was born after Scott, before you. He’s four years older than you. His mother has been your father’s mistress ever since, although from what I understand, they have been on and off throughout those years. Blade is their only child, and your father has had a relationship with him all his life. Blade has given Marcus his word that Mandy won’t come after you again. Apparently, he wasn’t aware that she was mixed up in all of this. Marcus and Scott have agreed not to pursue her.”

I tried to take all of that in. “And you? Are you going against their orders?”

“I don’t trust that bitch, and I want her taken care of. I’m pissed off that Marcus and Scott have backed off.”

As I listened to what he was saying, I realised that this was the first time he had been so open with me about club stuff. Amongst all the crap we had going on, this was my shining light. It was a pivotal moment in our relationship. I gently laid my palm against his cheek. “Thank you,” I murmured.

He looked confused. “What for?”

I smiled at him. “For telling me all of that even though I know you didn’t want to.”

He covered my hand with his and squeezed it lightly. “You were right to push me. And you were right that I need to tell you what’s going on. Thank you for being patient, baby.”

“I need to go and see Mum,” I said, torn because I wanted to see her but I also wanted to stay right here with J.

“I’ll take you.”

I kissed him and grabbed my bag before heading out. I was apprehensive about what we would find when we got to my parents’ house, but at least I had J with me.

MY MOTHER ANSWERED the door dressed in a bathrobe. So out of character for her.

“Madison,” she simply said in greeting. Her face was all puffy and she looked like shit, but at least that ugly red welt from where my father had slapped her was gone.

We followed her inside and sat at the kitchen table. My father was noticeably absent. Thank God, because I think I may have punched him if he had been there.

“So, you’ve heard the wonderful news, I take it. You have another brother.” I didn’t fail to note the sarcasm.

“Mum, talk to me,” I pleaded.

J stood up. “I’ll leave so you girls can have a talk,” he offered.

“Sit down, J. You’re part of this family, and as far as I’m concerned, there should be no fucking secrets anymore,” my mother said.

“Did you know before today?” I asked her.

She sighed. “I always suspected your father was playing around.” She shrugged. “It’s what happens in that club. I chose to ignore it. But I had no clue he had a mistress and a child.”

I didn’t want to ask my next question, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Is that the first time he hit you?”

The way her shoulders slumped, and the sad look that flitted across her face told me what I needed to know. J made a noise and I looked at him. His fists were clenched and he ground his jaw.

“How bad, Mum?” I was so mad at not only my father, but also at myself, for not noticing. I had lived in a happy little bubble that was actually just one big, fat fucking lie.

She sat in front of me, a picture of vulnerability. I watched as she pulled herself together and plastered the stoic look that I knew so well onto her face. “Not as bad as some women receive. And only when I really pushed him.”

Oh, my God. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you leaving him?” It was almost a challenge, because I was fairly sure I knew what she had already decided to do.

“No, and I don’t want to hear your opinion on it. Or Scott’s.” Her eyes pierced me with defiance, and I knew there was no point arguing with her. Sharon Cole was not a woman who listened to other’s opinions. But under that mask she wore, I knew there were cracks and all I could hope was that one day she would come to her senses.

27

JASON

IT HAD BEEN three weeks since Madison had discovered her father was a lying, cheating piece of shit. I had watched her struggle with this, and the fact that her mother was staying with him. I had also watched her begin to deal with it. And I couldn’t have been fucking happier about how she was doing that.

My girl kicked ass.

It was a tough fucking pill to swallow when you realised the father you adored wasn’t perfect after all. I knew because I’d been there. That knowledge took a piece of your heart with it, and you couldn’t get it back. Ever.

We’d spent the last three weeks laying low, doing our own thing, away from the club as much as possible. I turned up every day for work, but I stayed out of Marcus’s way. I would have probably knocked the fucker out if I’d run into him. Madison hadn’t seen or spoken to any of her family in the last three weeks. She needed time to work through it all in her head.

The one thing she hadn’t done was turn to alcohol. Sure, she hit as many AA meetings as she could, but mainly, she turned to me. And that was just how I fucking liked it.

We were enjoying a lazy Sunday morning in bed when she stole my heart all over again. “I can’t imagine my life without you, J. Those years we spent apart were some of the hardest years of my life, but I think we needed them. They gave me time to grow up, and become me. And this me is so much better than the old me. This me is in your corner all the way, baby, and won’t leave you ever again.”

I rolled so I was on top of her and pinned her arms above her head, holding them there with one hand, while I moved my other hand to her breast. I dipped my mouth to hers, and took the kiss I desperately needed.

Coming up for air, I grinned at her. “God, I fucking love you, woman.”

“I love you, too, baby. But can you let my hands go? I need to touch you.”

“Wasn’t in my plans, sweetheart, but perhaps you can convince me with your dirty words.”

She lifted her head off the bed to bring her mouth to my ear. As she spoke, her warm breath sent desire straight to my dick, and I was a fucking goner. I didn’t even pay attention to her words; she could have whatever the fuck she wanted.

I let her hands go, and she pressed them both to my chest and pushed me so that I rolled onto my back. The smile playing on her lips was delicious, inviting; I couldn’t wait to see what she had planned for those lips.

She straddled me, her wet pussy teasing my cock as she slowly ground herself against me. Oh, she was a fucking expert at teasing. She rested her palms against my chest and bent forward to trail kisses up my stomach, to my chest. When she reached my nipples, she took one in her mouth and slowly sucked it, and then did the same to the other. Her warm, wet tongue was heaven, and my cock screamed out for it too.

“Baby, I want you to suck my cock,” I said huskily.

She lifted her head and met my eyes. Her mouth spread back into that delicious smile. Yeah, my girl loved my cock. And she was straight on it. Her lips wrapped around me and she sucked me in as far as she could take me, her tongue gliding along my shaft as she went. She continued to suck as her hands massaged my balls. I lifted my hips off the bed, and she moaned as I tried to push my cock even further into her mouth. Madison was skilled at sex, but her talents with her tongue and mouth were by far her best. And I couldn’t fucking get enough.

Just as I felt like I was going to explode, she stopped what she was doing and moved quickly to position my dick at her pussy. I pushed my hips off the bed again and slammed into her. We both cried out at the same time, and the primal need to be on top of her took over. I flipped us and continued to thrust into her. Her legs and arms wrapped around me, and she held on while I fucked her.

Our lovemaking may have been wild and frenzied, but it was full of love and passion. Some people showed their love with gentle and tender moments; Madison and I only knew one speed in everything we did in life. And doing it all together, we fit together perfectly in our imperfect love.

MADISON

I SQUEALED IN DELIGHT. “So, you’re definitely coming this weekend?”

Serena giggled on the other end of the phone. “Yes, chica. This weekend. It’s a date.”

Finally! She was finally able to visit after not being able to make it since I had moved back. I missed her so much and I could hardly contain my happiness. We finished our conversation and I smiled to myself. I was giddy, and I didn’t do giddy. But J and Serena had turned me today.

He and I had just had amazing sex. God, I loved his cock. And, yeah that made me feel giddy all over again. Fuck, I needed to rein this shit in. I heard him turn off the shower, so I headed towards the bedroom. I needed to lay my greedy eyes on his body again.

As I walked past the spare bedroom, I noticed the curtain blowing in the wind. Strange. We never opened that window. I went in and shut it. J must have opened it for some reason. Having dealt with the window, my mind wandered back to J. I was so in love with that man. Unconditionally. And it felt amazing.

I hit the bedroom and came to an abrupt and chilling stop. Mandy was in the bedroom with a gun trained on J. My heart started beating hard and fast. My mouth went dry and my legs felt weak.

Fuck!

She was ranting crap at him. I could hardly make out her words; she was in a crazy state. Oh, my God, our lives were in her psychotic hands.

As soon as she saw me, she turned and pointed the gun at me.

“You’re gonna die, bitch!” she screamed.

“Let J go and I’m all yours.” I needed to know he would be safe. I couldn’t bear to think he would die because of me.

“Madi—” he started to say, but she cut him off.

Swinging to look at him, she yelled, “Shut the fuck up!” and then she swung back to me, her gun slashing through the air every time she moved. “And, no, he’s not fucking leaving!”

“Okay. Mandy—” I began, and now she cut me off. Turned out the bitch wasn’t interested in anything we had to say.

“You fucking took my brother away from me.” She jabbed the gun in my direction, and I prayed it didn’t go off, while mentally filing through options to get us out of this shit. “He loved you, and you broke his fucking heart.”

What the fuck? Nix didn’t love anyone. He just liked to control them.

Suddenly there was another presence in the room. I looked around, and came face to face with the spitting image of my father.

Blade.

The air whooshed out of my lungs, and I felt unstable. It was not how I pictured meeting him for the first time. He must have noticed because he reached out to steady me.

His eyes left mine and focused on Mandy. “You need to put the fucking gun down, and step over here,” he spoke, his voice cold and harsh.

It was like he had a hypnotic effect on her, because she instantly calmed, and I saw doubt shadow her face. Her hand that was holding her gun began to lower. Just when I thought we had her, J lunged at her, and she turned to him. Time slowed right down for the next few seconds. It was one of those instances where you knew what was going to happen, and although you needed to stop it, there just wasn’t time.

The gun went off, and J dropped to the ground, blood everywhere.

“No!” I screamed, and fell to my knees, scrambling to get to him.

Blade tackled Mandy, and another gunshot sounded. I had no idea who shot whom, or what happened; I was totally focused on J and the blood soaking through his shirt.

Time passed in a blur.

Sirens sounded.

People came into the room, and took J away.

My father turned up.

Scott arrived.

People spoke to me.

I didn’t remember any of it.

J was gone.

28

MADISON

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“SO, SIS, TELL me who all these people are,” Blade said, handing me a barbequed sausage on bread.

I angled my head to look at him. He was a tall guy, and well built. His eyes were the same colour as our fathers, a gorgeous green. He had also inherited the olive skin and dark hair that my father had. I hadn’t met his mother, and I wondered what he had been blessed with from her.

We’d been spending time getting to know each other since J and Mandy were shot. I hadn’t wanted to, but he’d pushed the point. And Blade wasn’t a man who didn’t get his way. I was slowly learning that. Why did I have to be surrounded by men like that? Why couldn’t I have just one man in my life who I could boss around?

I pointed out a couple of the guys and told him a little about each one. He surprised me with his desire to know me, and to be a part of my life. Scott was distant with him, and Blade didn’t try to force a relationship there. Perhaps it would come one day. Who knew what was in store for any of us? That was something I had really learned this year.

“You okay? Coping with today, without him here?” he asked, watching me intently.

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me,” I said.

He slowly nodded, still watching me, taking it all in. He was an intense man; sometimes I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Honey, can you help me with the soft drinks for the kids?” my mother called.

I nodded. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute.”

It was a club family barbeque. Storm had been through a lot over the year, and the day was a get together to help bring everyone back together, to help the healing process and strengthen club ties. The fallout from what I liked to call the ‘Mandy Incident’ was bad. A lot of the boys hadn’t supported Dad and Scott in their desire to back off on her, and there was some lingering resentment from that. It turned out that J wasn’t the only one who had wanted her dealt with.

Time was slowly healing the wounds, and I had no doubt the boys would work it out eventually. What I had some doubt about was letting Blade into the fold. He had been spending time at the clubhouse, meeting some of the boys. I hadn’t been so sure they would welcome him, but they had. Blade just seemed to have that effect on you.

I left him and wandered into the kitchen to find Mum. She seemed to be doing okay recently. She and Dad were working on their marriage. Well, I took her word for it because I hadn’t spent time with them together since discovering his infidelity and tendency to hit her. I hadn’t spent any time at all with my father, and I wasn’t sure when I would be able to bring myself to do that. I didn’t hate him, but I was still really angry at him. And I was pretty sure that would take a long time to go away.

“Hey, Mum.” I smiled at her as I entered the kitchen.

She looked up and smiled back. “Hey, honey. Are you having a nice time today?”

I nodded. “I miss him, though.” My word came out on a whisper, tears threatening.

“I know, sweetheart. But he wouldn’t want you to be sad that he’s not here.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “you’re right. Come on, let’s get these drinks to the kids.” I needed to busy myself and keep my mind occupied. Otherwise, I would be thinking of J the whole time. Missing him.

We grabbed the large Esky that was full of drinks and carried it outside to the sheltered area where the kids were set up with party food.

A hush fell over the party and all eyes were on me. I looked at Mum, but she was just smiling at me.

And then I saw him. My face lit up and my heart beat faster in excitement.

J.

I ran to him, and he caught me in a huge hug.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed you,” he breathed into my ear.

“I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m never letting my father send you on a trip ever fucking again. Okay?”

After J had recovered from being shot, he had confronted my father over the whole ‘Mandy Incident’, and it had ended with them having a huge punch up. And when I say huge, I mean fucking gigantic. I’d never seen anyone take on my father like that before. They had both ended up with broken bones; it hadn’t been pretty. Dad was so angry at J afterwards that he had sent him on a two month road trip to sort out club stuff that needed sorting out. Really, I had no idea what club stuff needed sorting out, but J had gone and done his time. I think it was some sort of club bullshit where you just have to do what the President told you to do.

He chuckled. “Yeah, babe. You tell that to your father.”

“I fucking will,” I threatened.

“Shut up and kiss me, woman,” he ordered, and I willingly complied.

It was the most amazing kiss ever; full of the love and desire we had for each other. When we pulled apart, his gaze fixed on mine with an intensity I felt in my toes. “I love you, Madison Cole, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I love you, too, J. But if that’s a marriage proposal, you’ve gotta do better than that.”

He threw back his head and laughed. God, it was good to hear that sound. When he finished laughing, his eyes met mine, and a thrill ran through me. “Mark my words, baby, we’re getting married. I’ll find a special way to ask you, but for now, you just need to know that my heart is yours. You’re the love of my life, and I’m never, ever letting you go.”

I sighed, content in the warmth of his love.

I loved this man with all my heart. He’d shown me that even though life could be a bitch, love could get us through any storm.

Fierce (Storm MC #2) is available now

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Inside this eBook

Better When It Hurts

Preface

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Thank You

Delicate Ink

Introduction

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

A Note from Carrie Ann

About the Author

Excerpt: Forever Ink

An Alpha’s Path

Dust of My Wings

Charmed Spirits

His

Copyright

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Find Jenika

Homeward Bound

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Main Cast of Character

About the Author

Also by Golden CzermakCzermak

Incandescent

Copyright

Prologue

1. Kadence

2. Nix

3. Kadence

4. Nix

5. Kadence

6. Nix

7. Kadence

8. Nix

9. Kadence

10. Nix

11. Kadence

12. Nix

13. Kadence

14. Nix

15. Kadence

16. Nix

17. Kadence

18. Nix

19. Kadence

20. Nix

21. Kadence

22. Nix

23. Kadence

24. Nix

25. Kadence

26. Nix

27. Kadence

28. Nix

29. Kadence

30. Nix

31. Kadence

Epilogue

Kadence

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Losing an Edge

Losing an Edge

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Catherine Gayle

The Prince & The Player

Dirty Players Duet #1

Dedication

Copyright

Prologue

1. Survival Skills

2. Playboy Prince

3. A Proposition

4. Unwelcome Guest

5. Two Princes

6. Duty

7. Playing

8. Confusion

9. Damsel in Distress

10. Regrouping

11. Preference

12. Focus

13. Evening

14. Fantasies

15. Afterglow

16. Snake

17. Relevance

18. Searching

19. Complications

20. Playing Politics

21. Instinct

22. Trapped

23. Sabotage

24. Running

25. Plans

Epilogue

Your opinion counts!

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Thin Love

Copyright

Dedication

Preface

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Part 2

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

MY BELOVED - A THIN LOVE NOVELLA EXCERPT

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Throttle Me

Copyright

Also by Chelle Bliss

Warning…

1. The Darkness

2. Ray of Sunshine

3. Down & Dirty

4. Wicked Ways

5. Only in My Fantasies

6. Too Good To Be True

7. I’m not too uptight, am I?

8. Angles

9. Broken Rules

10. Anticipation

11. Friday ~ Worlds Collide

12. Passing the Test

13. Fork in the Road

14. Stitches

15. Tattoos and Torment

16. Fantasies

17. Wants and Desires

18. Family Headaches

19. Friday Countdown

20. What Dreams Are Made Of…

21. Sometimes Shit Needs to Stay Fiction

22. Who’s the Boss?

23. Mouth-Watering Goodness

24. Hot for Teacher

25. Riding’ Dirty

26. Surprises

27. Christmas Blessings

Also by Chelle Bliss

Dirty Secret Sneak Peek

Kennedy

Phoenix

Hook Me - Men of Inked #2

About the Author

Storm

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

1. Madison

2. Madison

3. Madison

4. Jason

5. Madison

6. Jason

7. Madison

8. Madison

9. Jason

10. Jason

11. Madison

12. Madison

13. Madison

14. Madison

15. Jason

16. Madison

17. Madison

18. Jason

19. Madison

20. Madison

21. Madison

22. Jason

23. Madison

24. Madison

25. Madison

26. Madison

27. Jason

28. Madison

Also by Nina Levine

About the Author