“Why did you need me to drive?” I asked Jase as Carter finished up in the distance.
“Adrenaline is …” Jase trailed off and sniffled, the cold of the night turning his nose a dark pink. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Adrenaline was high.”
I knew it was a lie and took a stab at the truth, saying, “You didn’t want me to go home to him.” We’d never said a number of things out loud before that night, but after it was over, there were no more secrets to keep.
“That too.” Jase’s eyes were clouded with sorrow.
“You can tell him.” Carter spoke up from behind me before swinging the shovel into the rear of the hatchback.
“Someone started something and—” Jase began and I cut him off.
“That’s real specific.”
“He said he was going to kill the Cross brothers.”
Carter added, “All of us,” before shutting the trunk with a loud clank. The car jostled with the harsh shove.
“Life might be fucked,” Jase said and met my gaze. “But we’ll never leave you behind. All right?”
“I’m going to take care of it. I’ll fix it,” Carter said and gripped my shoulder, squeezing it as his voice got tight with emotion. He was barely twenty-five and we’d just lost Tyler. “I’m going to fix it.”
“When’s Daniel coming home?” I asked them because at that moment, I swore I’d lose them one by one. I felt it in my bones. We were all going to die. I just didn’t realize the kind of deaths men like us have.
Carter answered, “I told him to stay away for now.”
Jase added, “He’ll be home after getting something. We’re waiting to hear back from a man named Marcus.”
The last bit of the kid I was died that night when I asked, “Are we going to be okay?”
“Always. It doesn’t matter what happens, all right? I told you, I’ll take care of it and you’ll be all right. I’ll kill every last one of them before anyone hurts you.”
Braelynn
The outside patio at the pub is the perfect place to be on my day off. It’s brisk, but not cold. Especially with the sun shining down, giving a hint of warmth. It’s quiet and a piece of normalcy. There’s no place I’ve ever been that holds the same atmosphere as The Club. Being here is like coming back to reality. And heaven knows I need that after last night.
Taking a sip of the cider, I try not to think of last night. Of the kiss. Of him leaving me and not coming back up to see me. Or of him not answering the knock at his office door.
I have no idea what we are or what we’re doing. It’s another piece of that prominent enigma that is Declan Cross. His life, his club, his touch … they’re unfathomable for a woman like me. And yet here I am, caught in his trap.
“Refill?” the waitress asks just as I bottom out the cider. She’s quick to bring me another, and all the while I focus on anything other than Declan.
I’ve always loved the early fall when the breeze is still gentle but the air is crisp. I hold a heavy glass of chilled apple cider in one hand and my phone in the other. My stomach turns. Everything was perfect until the message came in. Now my heart beats faster with anxiety. The patio feels too exposed now. There’s no door to lock between me and the rest of the world. I glance at the message one more time as if looking back down would change what I saw.
Travis: You need to call me back. I deserve a damn response from you.
My throat goes tight, partly with fear but also with anger. He’s so damn entitled. Gritting my teeth, I set the phone down and take a longer sip of the cider, wishing it was spiked. Hell, I’d even take whiskey just to have the edge softened. I don’t owe my ex-husband a damn thing. He doesn’t deserve anything from me, not after all he’s taken.
Yet the level of anger doesn’t rise to where it should. I should be furious, and instead I’m irritated and, if I’m honest, a little scared.
Because all I keep thinking about is the kiss.
Travis means nothing. His empty threats mean nothing when Declan Cross just kissed me. It was a kiss that heated me up inside like a fire in the middle of winter. It felt familiar, in a way, but also entirely new. A bit dangerous. A lot forbidden. And then he walked away, almost daring me to follow him. If I had followed him, anything could have happened.
“Everything okay?” my mom asks, startling me and bringing me back to the present as she retakes the seat across from me. The iron legs of the chair scrape on the paved patio as she pushes her chair back in. I trace the pattern on the iron patio table. My phone vibrates and the sound echoes through the metal.