Fighting for Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon

Fighting for Devlin is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept eBook Original Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Lemmon Excerpt from Forgotten Promises by Jessica Lemmon copyright © 2015 by Jessica Lemmon All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New Y ork. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC. This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Forgotten Promises by Jessica Lemmon. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition. eBook ISBN 9781101884706 Cover design: Georgia Morrissey Cover photograph: Julia Gurevich/Shutterstock readloveswept.com v4.1 ep

Contents Title Page Copyright

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 Dedication Acknowledgments By Jessica Lemmon About the Author The Editor’s Corner Excerpt from Forgotten Promises

Chapter 1

Rena The first time I’d seen Devlin Calvary, I held my breath until my chest inflated like a party balloon. Today hadn’t been any different, considering the moment I saw his profile as I strode in, I ducked my head and ran for the kitchen. He was like the sun: hot, and he made me squint if I looked directly at him. Other than the flooring good looks of the man who was my boss, my new job had started without a bang. Oak & Sage hadn’t hit a dinner rush yet. My Nazi-like trainer, Melinda, and I were attempting to stay occupied while (according to her) out of shift manager Chet’s sight. “How can anyone take him seriously with that lisp?” she spat. Melinda spat everything. She reminded me of an angry cat most of the time. I frowned, dusting the broad leaves on one of the fake plants lining the top of the empty booths where she and I were cleaning. Well, where I was cleaning. She was gossiping about everyone she laid eyes on. I didn’t like her all that much, but she was the only co-worker I really knew here. I missed my friends at the recently gone-out-of-business Craft Palace. Right about now, we’d be opening a shipment of new scrapbook paper and dishing about the cute delivery guy. “What if he dated a girl with an ‘S’ at the beginning of her name?” Melinda said, an evil smirk on her face. “Like…Sarah. ‘Sthara, you’re stho sthexthy.’ ” I tried not to laugh, but it was funny. Mean, but funny. “Nervous about tonight?” she asked as I moved to the next plant. “It’s your first time alone.” “No, I think I can do it.” “It’s a lot of pressure. Don’t underestimate a Thursday. It’s usually twice as busy as Friday but in fewer hours. Plus, you have a three-table section.” I glanced at her uneasily. “And your tables aren’t in the direct path of the kitchen, so you’ll be double-timing it back there most of the evening.” I blinked at her. “Are you trying to freak me out?” She smiled, her eyes holding a lazy-cat look, then her gaze slid over my shoulder. I watched as her smile turned…something. Almost lusty. Then I realized why. It’s him. Crazy as it sounded, I could feel whenever he approached. I clutched my dust rag when his low, commanding voice washed over the air and etched into my skin. “Melinda, help the hostesses roll some more silverware, will you?” Devlin Calvary. General manager of Oak & Sage, though I would swear he couldn’t be much older than my twenty-two years. The youngest man I’d ever seen in charge of my paycheck was dressed in a suit. He always wore suits rather than the khaki-and-button-down-shirt

combo Chet wore. I guess to show he was in charge. But let me tell you, Devlin didn’t need a suit to alert anyone of his authority. I ran a gaze up and down the length of his lean body, appreciating his height, broad shoulders, and the air of power and control emanating from him like expensive cologne. When his long, dark lashes gave me a once-over, I felt my throat close off. I’d been introduced to him in passing when Chet hired me. Devlin hadn’t done more than tip his chin in acknowledgment then. And he hadn’t spoken a word to me since. “Sure thing.” Melinda started, then pointed to me. “Unless you’d rather Rena do it. She really doesn’t know how to do much of anything else.” I glared at her, but she didn’t see me, as she was attempting to blind him with the bazillionwatt smile pulling her shiny, red lips. Devlin’s bored expression remained; his chiseled jaw stayed firm. “Just you. Rena’s…” He lifted his brows and studied the rag I’d clutched against my chest like a handkerchief. “…petting the plants.” Melinda snapped her head toward me, her dark blond ponytail flicking behind her like the end of a very short whip. He walked away, and I continued “petting” the fake orchid in front of me as I watched his legs eat up the long aisle leading to the kitchen. “You may as well forget about whatever fantasy you’re cooking in your head.” She sneered at me. I shook my head in fervent denial—like I suffered any delusions that someone as hot and powerful as Devlin might look at me twice. I knew who I was. I wasn’t the type of girl who snagged the attention of a guy like him. “He doesn’t date the help,” she continued. “He flirts with me, but I’d never.” She cut a look in the direction he’d disappeared, biting her lip. A brief flicker of longing lit her hazel eyes before she muttered, “I don’t have any interest in him.” Oh, the lies she told. I rolled my eyes as she turned and walked to the hostess station. I knew damn well that Melinda, or any of the other females in this restaurant, would trade an ovary to be under Devlin’s intense blue-eyed stare for fifteen minutes. To be under him, period.

Devlin I cut through the clatter of silverware and tinkling of crystal glasses wearing a smile on my face. Oak & Sage restaurant had been my second home for as long as I could remember. My dad opened it when I was in diapers, and I’d cut my teeth on the corner of table 31. You could say I was born into this life. Along the way, I had inherited another. We were busy tonight, even by Thursday standards. I smoothed my tie and buttoned my jacket. As I stepped out of the way of an incoming server with a platter of ribs, I nodded at the guy sitting at table 31. Benny was one of the regulars, his shirt buttons nearly popping as he polished off the end of a very large piece of chocolate cake. He lifted his fork to signal he had money for me, but my sights were set on Sal Crawford: the older man at table 36. Mr. Crawford sawed into an overcooked rib eye—why patrons insisted on ruining a fortydollar steak by ordering it well-done was beyond me—and gestured at his wife who primly flaked her salmon and listened with half an ear. I’d never be the kind of prick to say I had it all, but I had it pretty damn good. When my father died, he left Oak & Sage to me. I was eighteen at the time, and his friend, Sonny Laurence, taught me the ropes of running a restaurant. Thanks to our history, and my being Sonny’s go-to guy in this small town, I knew every degenerate who placed bets within a fiftymile radius. But “degenerate” wasn’t a term I’d use to describe the Crawfords. They were wealthy, thanks in part to me, I reminded myself as I approached the table. Which made this visit almost pleasant. “Sal.” “Devlin,” he greeted, cheeks rosy from the bottle of Merlot on the table. At my arrival, his wife perked up, batting her lashes and adjusting her pearls. Never mind I’m thirty years her junior, Annabelle Crawford would have me for dinner instead of the fish if I said yes. I wouldn’t. He patted his mouth with a black cloth napkin as I leaned over the table and winked at his wife. “Anna. Looking beautiful this evening.” My lips tipped into a wry smile and her hand landed on mine. “Oh, you.” She toyed with one of her earrings. Women were one of the things I was really good at. The other was what I did to them to make them howl. Too bad for Anna. Another ten years closer to my age and I could’ve had her clawing the bedsheets. “I believe we have business to attend to,” I told Sal. Mrs. Crawford fished a small compact from her giant purse and patted her nose, intent on ignoring this part of the meal. He nodded, his lips twitching slightly at the sides. I made people nervous. Not that I was some massive block of muscle with a thrice-broken nose or anything, but I was the man with the power. I carried the weight of Sonny Laurence, and had a frame that was six-two and twotwenty to back that up. In a town like Ridgeway, Ohio, reputation was worth more than any

fortune Crawford could amass. “Next time”—I reached into my jacket pocket and Sal’s eyes widened the slightest bit—“I’ll be the one collecting from you.” I proffered an envelope with curly gold script on it that read, Gift Certificate, but we both knew it contained a cool few thousand Crawford had won fair and square. “Sonny says hello.” Which was code for Call him to place a bet today. Sal smiled, getting the message, and accepted the envelope. Mrs. Crawford shut her compact with a snap. I pressed my palms together in typical manager-of-a-restaurant fashion and said, “Your meal is on me this evening.” I raised a brow at Sal. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” I flicked a glance at the envelope. “A pleasure, Mr. Calvary.” He nodded. Once. A sign he’d be calling Sonny later to give back some of those crisp hundreds in his hand now. I turned for Benny’s table to relieve him of the eight hundred dollars he owed Sonny, feeling the slightest bit smug. Sal had addressed me as Mr. Calvary. Twenty-four years old and I garnered more respect than an orphaned kid from West End had ever dreamed. But this was the game. Thanks to Sonny, a game I’d mastered.

Rena My fingers shook over the computer screen as my mind threw information at me at ninety miles a minute. I looked down at the scrap of paper where I’d written my table’s order, and suddenly, I couldn’t make out my own handwriting. Is that an L or an R? A server behind me huffed his frustration. I blew out a breath and closed my eyes, willing my pounding heart to calm. You’ve been through worse traumas than the Thursday night rush at a restaurant. So much worse. Centered by that reality, I threw the guy behind me a smile. He shook his head. I was the new girl impeding his progress, and he didn’t appreciate my learning on his time. After I’d keyed in the last dish, I realized I had no idea how to take an item off the baked potato. I practically felt the angry vibrations at my back as I navigated out of one menu and clicked another. Beside me, a few other servers blurred by, shouting to the guys on the line, filling baskets with warm bread, and calling “Corner!” as they rounded the blind-spot wall leading to the dining room. It had to be here somewhere. Sour cream, sour cream… “Come on!” the impatient server shouted. I flinched, backing out of the on-screen menu and preparing to let the server go ahead of me when a hand landed on the touch screen in front of my face. A wide hand with blunt nails, not perfectly manicured. I caught the flash of a black opal cuff link as the jacket slid away when he tapped the screen, selecting three buttons I couldn’t have told you the name of if you put a gun to my head. I inhaled, the smell of soap obliterating the cacophony of food smells behind me. There was only the scent of clean man, only the feel of heat enveloping my body. I peeked over and caught the sharp angle of Devlin’s jaw, full lips, and lashes shadowing his cheeks as he squinted in concentration. He flicked a look over to me, those blue summersky eyes freezing me in place as I struggled to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I’d been doing it since birth but somehow needed to remind my lungs how to pull in air. With a blink, he turned back to the screen, punched the order in, and brushed by me, just a whisper of expensive suit against my restaurant-issued, dry-cleaned cotton shirt. “Move!” came the server’s shout behind me. Jerking back to present, I stepped aside, shakily closing my little black waitress book. I hazarded a glance to the side and saw Devlin’s tall form disappearing around the corner, and my heart leapt into my throat. Devlin. Since I’d started working here last week, he’d been practically the only thing

occupying my mind. Which might have explained why I still couldn’t navigate the touch screens. His medium-length black hair and contoured lips were distractions. Even if he hadn’t had a pair of cerulean blues or walked with a proud, straight back, his face set like steel, there was something about him I responded to. On a cellular level. I’d gone home after my first shift wishing I could have met him at a bar instead of a restaurant where he was my boss, but then, I’d never have been as close to him in a bar as I had been a moment ago. Outside of this restaurant, his arms would be dripping with elegant women, and there was no way I’d be one of them. Yes, Devlin Calvary was best left to the fantasies of my feeble mind, not the reality before me. “Whose side work is butter?” The shout sliced through the kitchen and brought me out of my delusion. “M–me.” I raised my hand as I turned toward the voice. Melinda stood at the computer, hands on her hips, looking disappointed. Her brows slammed down and she banged an order into the touch screen with blurring speed. “Remember your training?” she said without looking at me. “You have to do your side work in between your tables.” Heat reddened my face from a combination of anger and embarrassment, but I stayed silent. She faced me, her full-frontal fury intimidating, but I straightened my shoulders, refusing to become her whipping girl because she’d been given an ounce of power. She lifted a small ramekin of whipped butter—the last one—from a tray next to the bread oven, then tipped the stainless steel mixing bowl next to it to show me it was empty. “Okay, I got it.” I didn’t have time to do it, though. One of my tables needed a refill. I can handle this, I reminded myself, closing my eyes and thinking of Joshua’s funeral. Whenever I worried I was about to blow something out of proportion, I thought of that day. Joshua’s accident had been the most defining moment of my life. Thinking of him lying there helped me remember that whatever was upsetting me wasn’t important in the grander scheme. Remembering how I’d survived the loss of the boy I’d loved for two years helped me stay strong. The Butter Crisis paled in comparison. Perspective in place, I walked to the back of the kitchen, stopping short for the dishwasher hurrying by with a stack of platters. Sidestepping him, I turned and nearly ran into the guy at the fryer dropping a batch of soft-shell crabs into a basket. I will get through this night if it kills me. And it might. A broad, well-dressed chest rounded a wall without the helpful call of “Corner!” they’d taught me on my first day. Had I not been seeing red, I may have recognized the blur for what it was—a tie. As it was, I didn’t put “tie” and “Devlin” together until I’d already growled, “Excuse me!” I craned my head, locking eyes with him. His dark eyebrows shot to his hairline, then lowered over his nose in what looked like frustration.

“Yes. Excuse you.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he was speaking directly to me. I swallowed thickly, displaced attraction flooding my chest. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I—butter.” I stepped past him, wincing, and ducked into the walk-in refrigerator. Maybe the temperature in here would cool my flaming face. I butter? Really? That’s what I’d said to him out there? I scanned the shelves in front of me where plastic bins were filled with soaking potatoes soon to be fries, fillets of fish on ice, and cut vegetables. As I searched, I muttered “Diet Coke” to myself. That’s why I’d been in the kitchen to begin with. To put in the order and take the woman at table 29 a refill. How many minutes had I been back here now? “Shoot.” I started to give up and rush from the fridge but stopped short when I found Devlin standing in there with me, the door whispering shut behind him. The space was large enough for two people, three or four actually, but him in that cool space made it shrink. Like the shelves had swelled and begun to press in on us. The several feet separating us crackled with awareness, and my breaths went shallow again. I hadn’t been aware of a man in four years. Part of my self-imposed penance for leading Joshua astray, for guiding the golden boy onto the road of ruin, had been to avoid men altogether. Devlin came deeper into the cooler and I backed up until I rattled the shelf behind me. He penetrated my personal space, leaning over me without touching me, his heat blanketing my side. He pulled down a stainless steel bowl wrapped with cellophane, his eyes on mine as he handed it over. I took it, allowing a brief inventory of my helper. Charcoal suit, red patterned tie, shiny shoes. Every inch of him smacked of warmth and power and… Danger. My earlier thoughts of Joshua scattered in the wake of Devlin’s presence like a flock of birds spooked by a sound. Joshua’s smile, abandoned for the full set of Devlin’s unsmiling lips. Joshua’s jovial laugh for Devlin’s silence. Joshua’s cold, still body, the color of clay, for Devlin’s sun-kissed skin and thick black lashes. “What table?” he asked. My forehead crinkled in confusion. His nostrils flared, his beautiful face growing as hard as stone. “Diet Coke. What table?” Oh. Right. I pursed my lips to speak, but no sound came. A few seconds later, I was able to utter, “Twenty-nine.” I watched him leave while I remained, metal bowl filled with whipped butter cooling my hand, my jaw slack. I followed, my newfound bravery wilting. Maybe tomorrow would be better. I yanked the door open and headed into the bustle of the kitchen, nearly plowing into one of the servers yelling for butter. Then again, maybe not.

Chapter 2

Devlin The Wilson residence stood on a tree-lined street on Linney Avenue, the only blue house on the right side. When I’d lived here as a delinquent teen, I mowed the yard and trimmed the shrubs and restacked the bricks around the lush Japanese maple out front—bricks that now lay in a haphazard stack around the neglected tree. Pulling my leather coat tighter to keep from being pelted by the light rain that would soon turn into snow, I sidestepped a pile of waterlogged newspapers scattered across the drive. The hedges I’d once perfectly squared were scraggly, their leafless arms clawing at the filthy windows. The formerly manicured home that had been my refuge for almost two years now looked more like a place I’d take the long way home to avoid. Paul Wilson, chronic gambler, might not seem the best father figure, but since he was my dad’s gambling buddy (as close to a best friend as my dad ever had), he’d been the only one left to offer me a place to stay. Unlike my father, who gambled and scammed his way through most of his life, Paul had a career as an—as far as I knew—honest accountant. He and his then-wife gave me a place to stay back when Dad died, and let me stay despite the fact I’d been busted for trying my hand at gambling shortly after. I was good at it, thanks to a fail-safe memory for facts and figures, but I hadn’t been so good at not flaunting my wins at the restaurant. Sonny quickly put a stop to my bad habit. If saving me had been a two-part plan, he was the other half of what Paul had started. An interior light was on, and a shadow passed in front of it. It had to be Paul. Joyce divorced him last year, and his son, Cade, was away at college. The only current resident of the Wilson place was the man who used to make sure he always had Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the kitchen cabinets for me. Sucked that I was here to get money from him. I knocked. “Paul!” He knew better than to run from me when I needed a payment. And he was late. He hadn’t shown up at Oak & Sage for a week. A week. He had never been a week late before. I didn’t typically come to collect personally. Sonny had guys who did that part of the job. Big guys with baseball bats. My job was maintaining the restaurant—my future—and acting as drop-off point for Sonny. There were a few reasons for this. One, I owed Sonny a lot of money since my dad died indebted to him; and, two, Sonny was the one who’d stepped in and helped me run the place when I’d been left in charge, most likely to guarantee he’d get the money Dad owed him, but I liked to think his trust was in part due to how skilled I was at what I did. Either way, our paths merged, and bettors began frequenting Oak & Sage to place bets and meet with him. They still frequented, but the betting was now done via Sonny, and I played role of collector in addition to owner. Since I was familiar with the business and had no need to write down who owed what, it worked out well for both of us. Plus, Sonny knocked a percentage off my dad’s debt for the exchange, which allowed me to make a profit but still pay

toward my father’s debt. That part was important. I didn’t want to owe anyone anything. And if I ever had a kid, I sure wouldn’t want him to be responsible for my debt when I died. Wet, chilled, and getting aggravated, I knocked again. Over the last several months, Paul’s demeanor had changed. I wasn’t accustomed to not seeing him at “his” table each week, ordering the cordon bleu and peach iced tea, and either dropping off payment or picking up what he’d won. Since Joyce left, he had become more reclusive, and had visited the restaurant less and less. Where he used to be a straitlaced numbers guy who enjoyed betting on sports games more for fun than profit, now he reminded me of a twitchy chipmunk who suspected a dog was nearby. At first I thought he was depressed because of the divorce. His wife had left and, as far as I knew, hadn’t contacted him at all. Paul had mentioned she’d taken her dream job to be a flight attendant and travel, but I suspected she stayed in touch with Cade. Joyce was a great mom. She mommed Cade, she mommed me—and hell, I hadn’t even deserved it. Now, though, I’d begun suspecting he was on the lam, or maybe it was substance abuse. I hoped it wasn’t the latter. The thought of the man I’d once admired and had wanted to emulate throwing it all away for a hit made me sick. I’d seen the decline of many a man in this business, my father included. Gambling had a way of dismantling lives piece by piece. Not surprising, considering that most bettors were degenerates to start with. Wasn’t like they had far to fall. I glanced around the neighborhood at the jaunty Christmas lights, already up despite Thanksgiving being a week away. Luxury cars were parked in every other driveway, and giant blow-up cartoony Grinches, Rudolphs, and Santas decorated the yards. The rain had shifted to sleet. I changed my knock to a bang, slamming my fist into the door and shouting Paul’s name with more urgency. He opened the door. Fucking finally. “I’m freezing out here, man,” I let him know. Paul was my dad’s age, or would have been, if my dad was still alive. Unlike my dad, he was a few inches shorter and had grown a potbelly, likely from too much Heineken. Tonight, his belly was prominent, covered in a hideous patterned sweater, but his normally round cheeks were sunken, his eyes dark underneath. Heroin? Crack? Cocaine? My stomach did a half flip. Being strung out wasn’t something Sonny dealt with. If a bettor ever came to him strung out, he turned him down. Sonny and I ran a respectable illegal gambling ring. Everyone knew we didn’t mess with guys who couldn’t handle themselves. Especially guys who knew better—like Paul. “Hey, Dev.” He fidgeted, rubbing his fingers together as he continued looking around nervously. “Five hundred,” I stated. Lost causes weren’t my specialty. Whatever problems he had were his and his alone. His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed. I stuck my hands in my pockets and watched as his eyes followed the movement, probably wondering if I had a gun or not. I let him wonder. After another lengthy silence, his nostrils flared. “Go away, Dev.”

What the hell? We were friends…or used to be, anyway. Even if we weren’t, he knew better than to challenge me. Saying no to me was saying no to Sonny. But it was hard to intimidate the guy who’d seen me as a scrawny, starved teen. Simple solution: I’d remind him who sent me. “If you don’t have it, I’ll have to call Sonny. I don’t want him to take you down, man, but…” Voices rose in the house, then two goon-sized men were towering in the doorway behind him. I widened my stance in preparation for trouble but made sure to give the pair of bozos a cool glance as I lifted my phone to dial. Showing weakness would only get my ass kicked. Thanks, but no thanks. One of the guys had a bald head, the other had a mop of messy brown hair and a cleft top lip. They outweighed me. Hell, both of them together could probably lift my SUV. The back of my neck prickled out of instinct, or maybe from plain old experience. Paul was in trouble. If I didn’t stand a chance in a fight against Dumb and Dumber, he was screwed. He had pudding where there should have been muscle. I lowered my voice and leaned close so only Paul could hear me. My thumb was still on the phone, ready to dial Sonny if it came to that. “Look, man, if you need help just—” A blinding light resembling a nuclear blast bloomed behind my eyelids as my head snapped back on my neck. I staggered backward from the punch, hearing a splash as my phone dropped into a puddle on the pockmarked driveway. Hand on my throbbing jaw, I glared at Paul. He’d sucker punched me. I felt my swelling lip curl and surged toward him, latching onto his sweater with two fists. He was about to find out what that chicken-shit punch cost him. Then I’d let the goons do whatever they damn well pleased to him. I drew back a fist, and heard Paul wail, “Take him out!” And then my world went black.

Rena My best friend, Tasha, handed over a vodka cranberry and shouted so I could hear her over the music. “Then what happened?” Then nothing happened, that’s what. I’d just shared the walk-in-refrigerator tale, leaving out the part where I turned into a tongue-tied twit. A college party wasn’t exactly the place for an intimate discussion, but I had to talk to someone. I briefly debated how to answer her question. Devlin hadn’t spoken another word to me since the walk-in incident two nights ago. He’d done a pretty decent job of ignoring me altogether. “Then I jumped him,” I shouted back to Tash. “Wrapped my legs around his waist and stuck my tongue down his throat.” She threw back her honey-blond curls and laughed. My brain knew I was joking, but my body didn’t differentiate real from imagined. At the thought of Devlin’s tongue on mine, my nipples tightened, my thighs clenched. The idea of kissing him, of feeling his wide, warm hands clasp my bottom as he held me against him, was a fantasy I had entertained more than once. In the shower this morning, for instance. Damn my barren love life. But it was my fantasy. And in my fantasy, he had stood behind me and skimmed his hands up the front of my shirt, his fingers teasing my breasts as they peaked in the cold air in the fridge, while his hot tongue licked a trail down the side of my neck. When I lifted to my toes, he’d ground into me as I grasped the shelf in front of me for support. “Ohmygawd, look who’s here!” Tasha exclaimed. I blinked out of my sex fantasy and took a generous swallow of my drink. I couldn’t believe I’d slipped into la-la land in public. Men didn’t often draw me into waking dreams of them. No, that wasn’t true. Men never drew me into waking dreams of them. Ever since Joshua died, that sort of daydream had died with him. I’d slotted myself into the asexual column and had done my best to ignore my hormones. Until Devlin. What was it about him? I pictured his broad, suited shoulders. Ink-colored hair slicked away from carved cheekbones. Full, firm lips and a jaw made of granite. It was his everything. “Asshole,” Tasha grumbled. I followed her eye line across the room to where she was directing her sneer and upturned nose, and saw a guy in a casual patterned T-shirt. A symphony of tattoos tracked down his left arm. He sipped beer from a Solo cup and when he licked the foam from his lip, a dimple sliced into one side of his face. “The cute guy?” I blinked at my friend.

“He’s not cute.” I took a second look. “Uh, sorry, hon, but yeah, he is.” “Well, he’s an asshole, so that sort of eradicates the cute.” She crossed her arms as she sipped her drink. “What’d he do?” I asked, curious. Sure, Tasha preferred the preppy boys, well-bred, smooth talkers, over tattooed bad boys, but I’d never known her to dislike any boy. Especially a boy as cute as the one across the room talking animatedly to his buddy. “We were at a frat party last weekend and he hit on one of my friends. She shot him down then he turned to me.” She brushed the beaded necklace at her throat. “His eyes wandered all over me.” I thought she sounded more rapt than offended, but I kept that to myself. “And then he was like, ‘You’ve been smilin’ at me for a while, darlin’,’ in this annoying drawl.” Her lip was still curled, but I was pretty sure by “annoying” she meant “sexy.” “Then,” she continued, “he said, ‘What do you say, kitten? Care to take a ride on the Cade train?’ ” I laughed. Mistake. Tasha’s jaw dropped in offense. “I’m sorry,” I said, pulling it together. “That’s a terrible line. I am laughing at its epic badness.” “He called me ‘kitten’ like I’m a tramp or something. And the ‘Cade train’ thing? Disgusting.” Her gaze cut to him again, betraying her true feelings. She seemed more curious than upset. There was a part of Tasha that wanted everyone to like her. And the fact that this tattooed, T-shirted bad-boy might not bothered her all the way down to her ballet flats. A cacophony of male whoops lifted the air. Across the sorority-house living room, Tasha’s ex-boyfriend, Tony—a taller version of Bruno Mars with the same pretty quality to his face— strolled through the door. Now, him? Him I could hate. He had no business being within twenty yards of Tasha after last weekend. He high-fived a few guys for who-knew-what as he entered. Cade flicked him a dismissive gaze, which made me like him more. “He said he wasn’t coming tonight,” she mumbled, her eyes glued to her ex-boyfriend’s ambivalent expression. Mine was glued to Tony’s rich boy prep-wear. Tasha’s kryptonite. Oh, how she loved a well-pressed pair of khakis. I grabbed my friend’s arm and forced her to look at me. “You talked to him?” “Of course not!” She bit her lip, then added, “Text.” “Tasha! Tell me you’re not this drunk!” I took her drink away and she snatched it back. Tash was my best friend…my first real friend. And I was the one person in her life who would be honest with her. She and I had become friends in the ninth grade, and she was the only person from high school who hadn’t avoided me after Joshua’s accident. My world had dwindled down to two people back then: Tasha and my smother. And, yes, the “s” was there intentionally. “He texted me to apologize.” She waited for my objection. I pursed my lips and stayed silent. “Admit it. It’s possible he’d mistaken Jamie for me, right?” “How dark was this party?” I asked, my tone flat.

“He was drunk, Reen. He kissed her, sure, but she was the one who dragged him into the closet.” I ruminated on this new bit of intel. “How do you know?” “Tamara and Casey told me. They saw the whole thing.” Her wide eyes and defense of her “friends” made me question her sanity. Is this what sorority girls did? Sat back and watched Tasha’s boyfriend make out with another girl without intervening? “I’m lucky to have them. They’d never make out with Tony.” “What great friends.” She nodded her agreement, ignoring my sarcasm. Tony lifted his chin at her and she gave him a huge smile. Then he saw me, seemed to debate, and wisely opted to keep his distance. “Maybe I was too harsh,” she said, contemplatively sipping her drink. “You don’t have to settle for him. You could find someone else. Someone better.” I looked for the dimpled, brown-haired guy again but he must have relocated. “Someone who doesn’t make out with college freshmen while you’re studying for your Physiology test.” I gave her the kindest smile I could muster. “You don’t know what college is like,” she shot back. I tried not to visibly wince. Because ouch. “Come on, let’s dance.” She towed me to the living room and I obeyed. An hour later, I’d been dragged into a conversation with a guy who called himself Turner and a girl with the blondest hair I’d ever seen. It was practically white. I’d forgotten her name. Brittany? Bridget? I wasn’t sure. They seemed nice enough; we just didn’t have anything in common. Tasha wasn’t wrong. Besides having taken a few community college courses, I couldn’t relate to living in a dorm and attending wild parties every weekend. “…until this one stripped off his toga.” Brittany-Bridget snorted and shoved Turner, who brayed like a donkey. His laugh revealed luminescent teeth, which were kind of terrifying. “Sounds…uh, fun,” I said, scanning my surroundings for an exit. I’d lost sight of Tasha some time ago. And since she was the only person I knew, I’d found myself stuck with these two. “Oh, look at that. Empty cup.” I drained my drink in one huge gulp. “Excuse me.” Brittany-Bridget wasn’t listening. She leaned into Turner, who’d pulled her close and cupped her ass with one giant palm. I took advantage of her preoccupation to sidle by them and out of the kitchen. Seriously, what did girls see in these morons? Alas, much as I wanted to mock them, I couldn’t. I had been about six months away from becoming one of them. Joshua had been headed to Ridgeway University on an athletic scholarship, and I’d filled out my applications. I planned on following him. I would have followed him anywhere. Instead, he followed me…to his demise. I dropped my empty cup into a trashcan, stomach tossing at an unwelcome memory. The night of the accident I went to a party alone because he didn’t want to go. When he came to pick me up, I was drunk and bored and crying like an idiot. Since that night, I’ve been plagued with thoughts like: if I’d never called, if he’d never picked up, if he hadn’t offered to drive me home at that exact moment in time…If I hadn’t been yelling and distracting him from the passenger seat—

Someone knocked into me, and I shot a nasty look over my shoulder, then I realized it was Tasha. “Oh, hey!” My eyes traveled down her arm to Tony’s hand linked with hers. They were both turned toward the staircase—leading to what I suspected were bedrooms. “Rena. Hi.” Her eyes were wide, her voice tight, like she feared I might bend her over my knee and spank her for misbehaving. It was no secret how I felt about her beau. He gave me the stink eye. The feeling was mutual. “We were just”—she pointed weakly—“heading upstairs to talk. Um, privately.” Tony’s hand slipped around her waist and he tugged her against him with propriety. Tasha blushed and a sweet smile crossed her face. And for whatever reason—be it the melancholy over thinking of what could have been if Joshua never died or the sheer happiness in my friend’s eyes—I couldn’t fault her. I’d been without someone to touch, to hug, to kiss for four long years. Being alone was…well, lonely. If I’d had the opportunity to make out with my questionably moral boss in the refrigerator, I would have totally done it. Just grasped the moment—and his ass—in both hands and gone with it. Because being alone sucked. And being good all the time sucked more. “I can wait around for you if you want me to,” I offered, meaning it. “No, you don’t have to do that.” She palmed my arm. “Tony and I are going to be a while.” He smirked. I narrowed my eyes. I could still fault him. The bastard. “He’ll drive me home,” Tash said, then to me, “Are you sober?” Ridiculously so. I nodded to confirm. “Great.” She tugged Tony to the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “Text me when you get home, okay?” Right. Like she’d be in the position to read that correspondence.

Chapter 3

Rena Home from the party, I changed out of my tight clothes and into a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved gray hooded shirt. I’d spent a lot of Friday nights home alone. The girl whose boyfriend just died was a downer at any party, so it wasn’t like I’d gotten a lot of invites. With the exception of Tasha dragging me out to be social. Kind of like she’d done tonight. I wasn’t mad at her for ditching me, but I didn’t look forward to the phone conversation we’d have in the near future about how I’d “never believe what Tony did!” or her declaring she was going to become a lesbian because all men were jerks. My reason for swearing off men was more organic. The love of my life had died and left me here with enough guilt and remorse to last two lifetimes. I hadn’t so much as been on a real date in four years, despite the fact that I’d been asked out and Tash had attempted to set me up. I tried to hang out in a sort of group date, but the setup had felt unnatural. Wrong. Which made me consider Tasha’s pretend-lesbian option more than once. It’d sure as hell be easier. Sketchbook and graphite pencil in hand, I settled on my couch and drew exactly two lines when there was a knock at my front door. I looked to the window. It was sleeting outside, just enough to spit on the windows and smudge my glasses, which I was now wearing, since I’d peeled the contacts off my eyeballs when I got home. Warnings ricocheted in my head about not opening the door to strangers. About being careful. All in my mother’s overprotective voice. A young girl living on your own needs to be careful. You could be raped or robbed or— I peeked through the Venetian blinds since the peephole was too dirty to see through. A figure hunkered on my porch wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. No coat. I hesitated at the doorknob even though I knew curiosity would win out. Armed with my drawing pencil and a bullshit-o-meter in prime working condition, I pulled open the door and faced the man on my stoop. I cocked an eyebrow at the stranger whose head was angled downward as if he was studying his shoes. No, not shoes. Boots. The lace-up kind, not the cowboy kind. When he didn’t look up for several long seconds, I said, “Yeah?” because I was oh-so refined. Then he lifted his head and I nearly swallowed my tongue. Blood. Blood everywhere. Oozing out the side of his mouth, from the corner of his eye, slashed across his knuckles like a Jackson Pollock painting. He swallowed thickly before speaking. “Can I use your phone?” His words were garbled, coming from between the split edge of his lip and a swelling jaw. His hand rested on the doorjamb while he waited for my answer, leaning toward me but not in an intimidating fashion. More like he’d fall over if he didn’t hold himself there. “I’ll stay outside,” he vowed. Long ink-black hair covered the other half of his face, but all I

could look at was the mess on the bloodied side. Then he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face and I gasped. “Devlin?” His hair wasn’t slicked back like at work. My eyes traveled to where blood and weather had darkened his black T-shirt. He wasn’t in a suit and tie, but it was him all right. Those long black lashes closed slowly over his eyes and he tipped. Before he succeeded in falling into my house, I did the first thing I thought of: rushed to his side and clasped his body with one arm. He was freezing. And solid, so solid. If he collapsed, I’d have no prayer of lifting his muscular body over my threshold. “Go inside,” I grunted when he leaned into me. I shoved the pencil into my hair and wrapped both arms around his waist. This wasn’t the way I’d envisioned holding him for the first time. Against me, he smelled of cold and snow as he stepped into my house. He wasn’t quite dead weight, but almost, his steps heavy as I guided him past the coffee table. He racked his knee and mumbled a curse, wobbling the candle sitting on the table. I held my breath and briefly envisioned a raging apartment fire, but thankfully, the jar settled. I plunked my boss down on the couch inelegantly, lifting his arm off my neck. He collapsed into the back of it, his chest heaving from the exertion. His arms shook and he shivered. I turned to close my front door, came to stand in front of him again and stared in disbelief. Why was Devlin Calvary bleeding and outside without a coat? What was he doing at my doorstep? Especially that last part. “Phone,” he demanded, holding out a shaky hand. “I can dial for you,” I told him. I was shivering, too, but my jitters were more from nerves than the cold. I palmed my cell. “The hospital or—” He snatched the phone out of my hand. “Hey!” He held up a hand to quiet me, punched in some numbers, then lifted the phone to his ear. I stood over him, mute, no idea how I felt about him being here. Especially in the condition he was in…did he even know who I was? But what was he doing here? That was most perplexing of all. Had it been chance that he’d stumbled to my apartment? I really didn’t think so. I slid my gaze down his long frame resting on my couch, across broad shoulders, and back down to the chain wallet hooked to his jeans. Biceps bunched as he wiped his lip with the back of one hand and I saw part of a tattoo peeking out from the underside of his T-shirt sleeve. He looked so…different from the way he normally looked. Yet no less attractive. Gone was the slick, suited man who barely acknowledged me at work. For a second I wondered if Devlin had a scrappier younger brother—or a twin. Someone with the same thick, dark tumble of hair my fingers ached to touch. I studied the half of his face not oozing. The carved cheekbone beneath one of his electric-blue eyes. Again, I thought of summer. But it wasn’t summer. It was freezing. As evidenced when he shook again. After several silent seconds, he ended the call and returned my phone. He licked the blood

from the corner of his mouth, a slight wince crinkling his face. “Thanks.” I accepted my only means of communication with the outside world wondering what to do next. He startled me by attempting to stand and before I thought of what I was doing, I put my palm on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He glared up at me. Like a cat at the zoo who’d been caged too long…like if let out of the enclosure he’d maul someone just for fun. My heart kicked extra hard at the thought of Devlin mauling me. It was a far more attractive prospect than it should have been. Don’t interfere, Rena. That wasn’t my mom’s voice but my own this time. The smart voice. The voice that warned me not to leave the club alone, not to accept the possibly laced drink from the too-good-looking bartender. The voice of survival and reason that Joshua hadn’t possessed. If only he’d delayed coming to get me by five minutes…one minute. Hell, thirty seconds. The voice in my head had protected me from dangers real and imagined since Joshua died. This time I ignored it. Leaning over Devlin, I tried to look as intimidating as I could, which wasn’t easy considering I had a pencil poking out of my hair and weighed all of 130 pounds. He could squash me like a bug on his best day. But today wasn’t his best day. Clearly. “You need medical attention.” He lifted his chin to take me in, the eye not swollen shut widening with surprise. Then the corner of his mouth tipped into a half-grin, and a dry chuckle stuttered past his chattering teeth. “You offering to be my nurse, Rena?” I hoped he didn’t see the expression that flitted across my face when I heard him say my name. Not only was I surprised, but flattered. And a little swoony. He knew my name. I had no idea he knew who I was other than the dim waitress who couldn’t work the touch screens or find the butter. But he totally knew. He said my name. I liked the way it sounded coming from him: all raspy and breathy. Then I mentally slapped myself. There was no reason to be swooning when he was such a mess. Shaking my head to clear it further, I snatched up his wrist and turned his palm over. Gravel-torn and red, his knuckles beat to hell—his face beat to hell. “I can take care of myself, Rena.” It wasn’t quite a growl, but he hadn’t spoken gently. “Yeah, well, apparently you can’t or you wouldn’t have come here,” I snapped back at him. My eyebrows lowered as I studied his face. “Why are you here?” He licked his lip and sniffed. When he looked up at me, my heart raced. Just pounded there as hard and as fast as it ever had. Faster even than when I’d first seen my high school sweetheart in Advanced Math, faster than when I kissed him for the first time, faster than when I spun into my first anxiety attack when I laid a rose on the casket that became his final resting place. Devlin pushed his palm onto my country-blue floral sofa and stood. I backed up to give him room, and to position my body in the path of the front door. I wouldn’t let him leave without a coat, bleeding and freezing. I couldn’t. “Bathroom?” he asked, holding his body at an awkward angle.

Evidently he wasn’t going to speak to me any more on my home turf than he did at work. The blood was beginning to dry on his face, but I could see he was trying not to drip on my carpet. I pointed down the hallway to the tiny bathroom with its matching slate gray toilet, tub, and sink. “Are you—do you need first-aid stuff? Or did you just have to”—I gestured weirdly. I could feel it, how uncomfortable I was around him—“to go…to the bathroom?” Smooth, Rena. He shuffled past me, then turned. Faced with the non-beat-up side, my thoughts ceased. My head went as blank as the sketchpad I’d pulled out before his knock came. In the soft lighting of my living room, I caught a glimpse of the Devlin I saw at work. Godlike and beautiful, his back straight and strong, his expression sharp. “I’ll need couple of towels you don’t mind me ruining.” Just hearing his voice in the intimate quiet of my apartment made me wish he’d say more. I could listen to his raw, low timbre forever. A drove of chills raced up my forearms. Since Joshua died, no man had caused my arms to chill, or my neck to prickle, or had tied my tongue. But now Devlin had. I was intrigued by what this meant. I (apparently) couldn’t speak, so I pointed down the narrow hall to the tiny linen closet and then followed my finger. Rows of mismatched towels and a few sets of sheets sat neatly folded on the shelves. “These,” I managed as I handed over two towels: one dark green and one navy blue. His fingers brushed mine as he took them, causing gooseflesh to light on my arms. “Bandages over the sink, and I think there’s some Neosporin or something. Whatever you find is fine. Use whatever you need.” Oh, there was my voice. The dam had apparently broken. He nodded once, keeping his not-swollen eye on me while he shut the door.

Devlin I tested the inside of my mouth with my tongue as I shut the door. I thought I knew what to expect in the mirror…until I faced my reflection. Fucking hell. Much worse than I’d imagined. One eye was swollen almost shut, bright red and turning purple with a few impressive broken capillaries. Dried blood coated the side of my face, and I’d lost skin on my palms from falling onto Paul’s driveway. And that was just the way I looked. Forget that my head pounded like I’d rammed a wall skull-first, or that every time I swallowed, my stomach lurched when a bit of blood trickled down my throat, or that the exposure to the cold only made my skin hurt as I began warming up. I flexed one fist, shutting my eyes at the burning from my abraded knuckles. I didn’t remember getting a hit in, but I must have. At least some of the blood on my hands appeared not to be mine. Must have landed a punch or two on Paul’s goons before they took me out. I shook my head at my reflection. Given how I looked, I was floored Rena Lewis let me in at all. I wouldn’t have let me in. I wouldn’t have opened the door. The water barely came out of the spigot, the pipes rattling something awful. I’d been in worse apartment complexes, but not by much. God only knew what issues the rest of the place had. I cleaned myself up as best I could, washing with hand soap and tenderly mopping at the cut by my eye. I had butterfly bandages at home, but since the jerk-offs who beat me up tore off my coat and my house keys were in the pocket, I would have to call a locksmith when I got there. If I got there. The call I’d made to my ride had gone to voicemail and I hadn’t bothered with a message. A thought about getting anywhere made me wonder for a fleeting second how I got here. Not here as in Rena’s too-small bathroom, but here as in at this juncture in my fucked-up life. Bloodied, freezing, after my friend turned on me for his own gain. I found myself leaning, hands braced on the porcelain sink, eyes focused on my busted knuckles, considering. It wasn’t like I chose this life. Choice never factored in. I snapped out of my moment of contemplation and bandaged the cut, mainly so my hostess wouldn’t faint from seeing the size of the gash across my eyebrow, but there wasn’t much I could do about my eye other than ice it and pray for the best. I pictured myself at work, suited up while appearing beat down. There was no way I could work the front of house of Oak & Sage until I healed. Sonny wouldn’t appreciate his bettors seeing me look like I got my ass handed to me. A certain amount of respect was lost when the guy who was there to take your money looked like he could be knocked over by a brisk wind. Shit. What a mess. What was I going to do about Paul? Seriously. I couldn’t believe he jumped me. The brief

thought that I could have his kneecaps bronzed and dangling from my SUV crossed my mind, but the revenge fantasy faded fast. My job was to get his payment, not his kneecaps. Moreover, I wasn’t sure what I’d tell Sonny. And, yeah, I was conflicted. Despite what happened tonight, Paul had been the one who’d taken me in all those years ago. I owed him. Who said there was no honor among thieves? Maybe the kneecap thing was an optimistic thought on my part. Sonny might have Nat do far worse if he found out. Sonny didn’t take kindly to his employees getting beat up, and for whatever reason, and even though I didn’t need it, he was protective when it came to me. Up until tonight, Sonny and Paul were the only two people in my life who hadn’t died or bailed. Now that Paul had officially bailed, Sonny was all I had. I decided, despite what Paul had done to me, to keep this incident to myself. I needed to find out what he was up to. Now that I was prepared to see the lengths he’d go to, I could handle him myself. He’d had the element of surprise tonight. It wouldn’t happen again. I cleaned myself up, wiped off the sink, and dropped the soiled towels in the tub, thinking through what happened. Who were those huge guys with him? Why would Paul clock me, then have me dumped on the side of the road over five hundred bucks? Unless I was right about the drug thing and those giants were his dealers. Possible, but it didn’t feel right. I leaned against the sink again, frowning to myself. None of this felt right. I heard a light tap on the bathroom door and watched as a small smile lifted the busted corner of my reflection’s lips. My eyebrows dipped in confusion and I turned away from the mirror. Why this girl intrigued me so much was a mystery. Why she’d let me in a bigger one. Sure, she knew me from work, but she didn’t really know me. I wasn’t exactly the charitable type, but maybe she thought so since I’d shadowed her into the fridge and offered to give her a hand. Why had I done that? A rare moment of benevolence on my part? Tonight, when I’d rolled to my hands and knees on the shoulder of a road a mile west of here, I hadn’t set out for Rena’s apartment. I’d intended to walk to the restaurant and let myself in to use the phone. I knew plenty of people in this neck of the woods, but all of them were bettors. I couldn’t risk being seen in this state. How much confidence would they lose once they saw proof that I couldn’t protect myself, or their money for that matter? Part of me argued that I had protected my money. My wallet hadn’t been stolen, and was sitting safely in my front pocket. But if a picture was worth a thousand words, the busted side of my face was worth a set or two of confidences lost. Halfway to the restaurant I’d paused by a sign near the road, thinking I might vomit from the stomach kicks I’d endured. Plus, my balls had nearly frozen solid. The sign I’d leaned on read, CRANE LAKE APARTMENTS, and I remembered this was where Rena lived. I’d reviewed her employee file before we hired her and recalled the address: 802 Crane Lake Run. I had what some might call a photographic memory. I never paid it much mind other than the fact it helped on bets and in gambling in general. I was good at what I did and had made a nice life for myself. Rena Lewis’s address was one stat among many filed into a handy drawer in the back of my mind. I hadn’t intended to involve her—still didn’t—but she was the safest haven I had until I

could get a ride home. Sonny wasn’t an option since I had no idea what to tell him yet, and I knew he had a cross-section of gamblers who were cabbies, so taking a taxi was out. That left either asking Rena to drive me home or calling one of Sonny’s guys who would keep his mouth shut. Nat was the first guy I thought of. He was a massive block of silent man. He didn’t gossip. He rarely spoke. And if he wasn’t too busy working someone over with a crowbar, he’d do fine. I yanked open the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Rena stood in the hallway, slender arms crossed over her middle, eyes wide behind a pair of large, thick-framed glasses. Her brown hair fell around her face in soft waves in the front, the rest of it pinned into a sloppy excuse for a bun. The pencil she’d stuffed into her hair pointed straight up at the ceiling, making her look like a nerdy unicorn. A sexy nerdy unicorn. I winced to keep my smile away. I couldn’t get over the fact that I noticed everything about her. Like the fact that at work she wore her ponytail smoothed against her head, never wore glasses, and bit her lip whenever she was concentrating hard— which appeared to be all the time. Her Oak & Sage–issued white starched shirt and shin-length black apron over black pants should have her blending in with the rest of the staff. One in a sea of many. But I’d noticed her. Noticed not only the way she looked, but the fact that she was delicate and observant. Nervous. Cautious. And pretty. Really pretty. The kind of pretty reserved for guys not like me. Which made her as far from the opposite of my type as they came. My kind of girl liked it fast and hard, typically a blonde with a short attention span who never expected me to call her later. Plus, I didn’t sleep with girls at work. I wasn’t that stupid. Especially girls like Rena. Good girls who wanted to stick around, ask questions, get close. Close wasn’t something I could afford to get to anyone. Not while I toed the line of legal/illegal activities on a daily basis. I pressed my lips together and walked by my hostess. “Thanks,” I said, my eyes on the front door, my teeth clenching in preparation for the cold. Steeling myself, I calculated the distance to the restaurant and figured if I ran halfway, I might make it without collapsing. Though the running was debatable. I suspected there was a broken rib or two under my thin T-shirt. Bastards must have worn steel-toed boots. Rena’s voice stopped me as my hand closed over the doorknob. “Where are you going?” She didn’t ask curiously, more demanding. I didn’t like being told what to do…unless it was in the bedroom, which made me have a highly inappropriate, and completely intriguing, thought about the girl who stood behind me. I heard her approach, or maybe I felt her there, like a curious rabbit sniffing a coiled snake. Maybe that’s what I was to her. Maybe that’s what she was to me. Too soon to tell. I let go of the knob and turned. She didn’t know anything about me, and I’d like to keep it that way. I wondered if I could trust her to keep her mouth shut about my being here. Maybe. Maybe not. But if I asked her to keep it to herself, that would guarantee she’d tell the first person she saw. I had to appear uninterested, as if this sort of thing happened every day. “Does it matter?” I gave her a lazy shrug and pain darted through my aching body. She crossed her arms over her breasts in challenge—small, perky breasts that shifted under her soft gray shirt. No bra. My dick stirred to life, and if that didn’t surprise me, the next

words out of her mouth did. “It matters to me. I’m not letting you go out there and freeze to death. It’s going to get down to twenty-two degrees tonight, you know.” As if I hadn’t puzzled out the meaning behind this, she added, “That’s cold.” She was so damned adorable I had to bite my lip to keep the smile from emerging this time. Smiling by accident hadn’t been a problem for me. Ever. Sort of novel, that whole concept. And nothing surprised me anymore. Growing up fast had taught me there were three types of people in the world. Those who didn’t have their shit together, those who did, and those who would eventually. Rena struck me as the latter. And, other than this slight upset, mine had been together since my dad died. I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You want to take care of me, sweetheart?” I meant to insult her. Most women I encountered were borderline feminists and a line like that usually made them shy away at best, or slap me at worst. I needed Rena to see me as a class-A prick. Arguably, I was. She took the bait, her head jerking back on her neck, eyes going so wide I saw the whites circle the browns. Dark eyes, dark hair, fair skin. Nothing like the girls I took home. I liked girls with spray tans, tons of makeup, everything waxed from end to end. Horny and needy and temporary. That was my style. Or so I told myself. My dick twitched in disagreement. Rena’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I do.” My turn to look surprised. No feminist rant, no haughty correction…just a look of determination and the damn unicorn-pencil sticking out of her hair. A sharp laugh—mine— sounded, shocking me further. I stepped closer, into her personal space. She bristled. She should. She didn’t know me. My eyes strayed from her face to her throat, then, like I couldn’t help myself, went to her braless breasts. I bet they tasted like cotton candy, her nipples bubble-gum pink. Her hands propped onto her sides and her eyes darted around the room. I followed her line of vision. A sketchpad rested on a sofa cushion, a few faint lines that hadn’t become anything yet, and a lit candle on the coffee table—the same one I’d nearly knocked over when she helped me inside. Damn. Why had she done that? Hauled me in and dumped me on her sofa? Why had she touched me like she cared? As if she’d read my thoughts, her palm landed on my arm—I’d never before been a sucker for a gentle touch, but there it was, the pull of longing from my gut on contact. Unless the pull came from my balls. Her eyes met mine, her hand squeezed. Instead of twitch this time, my dick stood and saluted.

Rena Devlin looked at my hand on his arm before his eyebrows centered over his nose. “No deal, sweetheart.” His voice was hard, his eyes as cold as when I’d towed him inside earlier. But, if I wasn’t imagining it, his eyes had warmed a second ago, when his gaze had traveled slowly down my body, making me feel exposed, and a little dirty…in the best possible way. His scrutiny held the promise of rough kisses and strong hands tightening around my upper arms. Of being pushed against a piece of furniture and ravished. I wanted to be ravished. Snatching my hand away, I waited for shame to wash over me like an acidic shower, but it didn’t come. Only want. The same unexpected want whenever I was around Devlin. Even in a bloody T-shirt and jeans, this man did it for me. No man “does it” for you, I reminded myself. The throbbing between my thighs offered an argument I couldn’t ignore. “I will borrow your phone one more time.” He held out a hand. His palm still looked raw but gravel was no longer stuck to his skin. I pulled the cell from my pocket and gingerly placed it in his hand. Head down, he paused pressing buttons to flick me a bemused glance. The bandaged brow lifted slightly higher than the other and his mouth quirked at the very corner. His lips, now free of blood, the top one still split, didn’t quite form a smile. I had no idea if he was silently laughing at me or if I’d done something stupid. Was it the gentle way I’d handed him the phone? Because I’d been careful with him? Or was it a delayed reaction to my sloppy appearance? Hard to say… He watched me for a few beats as he held the phone against his head. I tried to look away, honest to God, but his swelling face, and that one blue, blue eye staring me down held me captive. Then his eyes sank shut in a show of relief. “Nat, it’s me. I got into a tangle and lost my phone.” He surveyed his T-shirt. “And my coat. I need a ride.” A pause. Then, “How close are you to Ridgeway?” He’d gotten into a tangle? My heart skipped a beat as I thought of him launching a fist into another guy’s face. That should not be sexy. “Tequila,” he mumbled, sparing me a glance. If he was drunk, that was news to me. He didn’t smell like liquor, and his speech wasn’t the slightest bit slurred. Maybe he’d walked off his buzz from the bar to here? How close was the nearest bar? I frowned as I tried to picture the local dives around here, the image of Devlin in a bar fight not jibing with who I thought he was. Then again, I didn’t know him. He could be as dangerous as I suspected. Dangerous and devastating. Devlin the Devastating Devil, my mind chanted. Oh. I liked that.

You shouldn’t. Didn’t I know it. “Eight-oh-two Crane Lake Run.” I blinked at him. He’d been lucid enough to recall my address…to find my address? Had he come here on purpose? Witnessing my perplexed expression, he pointed over my shoulder in explanation. A copy of US Weekly—my guilty pleasure—sat in clear view on my magazine pile, my address in plain sight. But how had he found me to begin with? That was the real question. He gave “Nat” general directions while I wondered if Nat was a Nat, as in Nat King Cole, or a Nat, as in Natalie Portman. Had he called his girlfriend? With a snap of the phone, he set his jaw and eyed me with a long, hard look. “I’m going to wait across the street at the office.” “No,” I argued, “it’s too cold.” He lifted my hand and slapped my phone into it. This close, I felt the heat radiating off his body. He’d warmed some since he’d come in, but he’d freeze out there in short sleeves. His fingers left my flesh, grazing the back of my hand and leaving a warm chill behind. “Take this.” I yanked the multicolored throw from my couch. He lifted an eyebrow. “Just take it,” I insisted, shaking the blanket. “For me.” I couldn’t bear the idea of him being cold. When I’d helped him in earlier he’d felt like a slab of prime rib pulled out of the walk-in at Oak & Sage. “You’ve done enough, Rena. Explaining you”—he pushed my arm and the blanket to my chest—“or this situation to Nat would be…complicated.” He lifted his eyebrows as if waiting for me to pick up on what he was saying. “Oh. Oh.” Natalie. Most definitely. Inexplicably, my heart sank. I’d done nothing wrong and Devlin was nothing to me, but still, the idea of never being more than co-workers stung like lemon juice to a fresh cut. I would know. My first task yesterday had been slicing the lemons into wedges. I thought of the acidic juice burning my cuticles. Yeah, it felt like that, only in the vicinity of my heart. I wondered if he would be there tomorrow for my shift. Thinking he wouldn’t crushed me in a way I couldn’t explain. “I’ll see you at work, then,” I said, hearing the hope in my voice as I curled my arms around the blanket he’d refused. “Yeah,” he said, turning from me and pulling open the door. “Maybe.”

Chapter 4

Devlin After dodging work, and Sonny, for a few days, I knew I had to go see him today. I hadn’t wanted him to see the worst of my injuries. Not that they looked good now, but I couldn’t exactly avoid him forever. Outside a small pizza place on the west side, I squared my shoulders and walked in. I wasn’t scared of him, but I knew I had to go in with my confidence intact if I expected to sell the lie I’d have to tell him. I never lied. I hated lying. But in this case, for Paul’s case, I couldn’t tell Sonny the truth. I hadn’t made any headway since Paul had ignored my last several phone calls, and I wasn’t stupid enough to go over to his house again and get jumped by Thing 1 and Thing 2. So. Sonny. Here went nothing. I walked in and inhaled. The aroma of rich, seasoned marinara sauce hit my senses first, followed by the intoxicating lure of melting fresh mozzarella. I’d had my first slice of Sonny’s Pizza when Paul brought me here. Unlike the cold, wet air that chilled me to the bone the night I’d gone to Rena’s, the day had been balmy. A perfect seventy-four-degree May day, with a slight breeze. A good day, all things considered. I thought I’d been asked there to eat, but it turned out I’d been brought to talk with Sonny, who, after my dad died, had offered to help with the restaurant. Paul thought this was a great idea. I was skeptical, of course, knowing how much cash my dad owed this guy, but Sonny kept true to his word. He helped me. I helped him. We still helped each other, me more bound by loyalty than debt. I think if I asked, he would call us square at this point. In a way I didn’t want him to. What would my life look like without Sonny Laurence? I didn’t want to know. “Son!” I called across the empty restaurant, lifting my chin in greeting to the new girl behind the counter. Her blue eyes widened and round cheeks lifted before shading pink. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and leaned a hip on the counter. “Slice of Triple Threat,” I said. Italian sausage, pepperoni, and salami. You couldn’t beat it. The girl—Donna, her name tag read—averted her eyes shyly, her hand shaking over the cash register buttons. She placed her free hand over her throat and toyed with her necklace, keeping her eyes on the screen. I categorized her as another good girl who’d fallen mute in the midst of a black leather jacket. It’d taken some doing, but I tracked my stolen coat to near where I’d been dumped the other day. Not in perfect condition, but I told myself the scuffed sleeve added some personality. I thought of Rena and how she didn’t act like every other girl around me—flushed and batting her lashes. Of course, Rena hadn’t seen the leather jacket yet, I thought with a slight smile. Donna tapped in my order and called back to the kitchen, her voice thin. She pulled the ends of her ponytail. A ponytail that made me think of Rena’s sloppy bun. But then, lately everything had me thinking of the cute brunette who had practically carried me over her threshold.

“Four-fifty.” Donna batted her eyelashes and I almost smiled at the expected reaction. I leaned in and licked my lips, watching her eyes go wider, and handed over a ten-dollar bill. “Why don’t you keep it?” I winked. What the hell. Always leave ’em wanting more. “Dev!” Sonny came out to the counter and startled the filly I was play-flirting with. He liked me to stay friendly with the staff. He’d taught me ages ago a little charm went a long way. Which made me think of Rena. Again. I hadn’t charmed her. I’d been trying not to charm her. Before I had a chance to evaluate that thought, Sonny slapped me on the back with one broad mitt. He stood a few inches shorter than me, a square brick wall of a man. His hair, which stuck up in the front no matter what he did to keep it down, was more black than gray, even for his age—which I guessed numbered in the sixties. He might have looked young if it wasn’t for his weathered face. The man had a love for late nights, whisky, and cigars. It showed. “Can we talk?” I asked him, keeping my voice casual. He didn’t flinch. Sonny didn’t do drama. If someone caused drama, we removed the drama. Not easy to avoid drama in our line of work, but that was his way—and he had a knack for keeping things neat. I thought of Paul again, of what Sonny might ask me or Nat to do in retaliation. It gave me more incentive to keep the cause of my injuries to myself. “Donna, bring the slice, and a fresh cup of coffee for me, over to the corner booth, will ya?” Sonny kept his palm on my back and steered me to the back of the room. The show of propriety told anyone watching that I was revered and respected. Or so he said. It was his playbook. I just followed the rules. “Nice shiner,” he said as we sat. I tracked my hand along my face. Luckily, my hair hid most of the damage around my eye, but my split lip, colored an ugly purple-red, looked pretty bad. It made me wonder about Donna at the counter, there. She must have a thing for rough guys. Which was alarming, because she looked too gentle for my taste, and I wasn’t rough with girls. Unless they ask, I thought with an internal smirk. But I didn’t piss where I ate. Which made me remember the line I crossed when I went to Rena’s house. Sonny may encourage charming the staff, but bedding the staff was discouraged. We had to be careful who found out what we did. I learned long ago our kind of power drew women like butter, but it didn’t mean we had to stick our fingers in and taste. “Hey.” Sonny slapped the table, jarring my thoughts away from—where else?—Rena. Something about drawn butter and tasting her had nearly flattened my last brain cell. I feigned fatigue, pulling a hand down my face. “Yeah,” I said. “You should see the other guy.” I’d told Nat my injuries were incurred in a bar fight. On the ride home, I elaborated, explaining (even though he hadn’t asked, nor would he have) that I’d had too many shots of tequila, and some guy looked at me sideways. Nat didn’t talk much, but if he’d repeated any of those details that was the story I would have to stick with for now. Donna showed up with Sonny’s coffee in a Styrofoam cup and my Triple Threat. I groaned with no small amount of ecstasy when she slid the paper plate under my nose. Oak & Sage

may have a peppercorn-encrusted filet, a poached halibut in lemon sauce, and a wall of chocolate cake that would make Donna, here, cream her panties, but a slice of Sonny’s Pizza rivaled them all. I took a huge bite. Groaned again. Sonny chuckled. “You make my heart feel good, kid.” He sipped his steaming coffee. “So? Talk.” I swallowed my bite and carefully brushed my injured lip with the napkin. My mentor didn’t do much bush-beating. Unless you count the chicks thirty years his junior he banged on a fairly regular occasion. I wiped the grease from my fingertips and dragged an envelope out of my pocket and dropped it on the table in front of him. “Benny’s,” I said of the eight hundred dollars inside. Sonny extracted a pen from his front shirt pocket and jotted something in his illegible shorthand on the outside of the envelope. I never wrote anything down. Since I could remember figures as easily as my name, I didn’t bother. Plus, no evidence. “Travis is dodging me,” I told Sonny. “I’ll go to him.” “No need.” He chuckled again as I took another bite. He didn’t bother counting the cash I’d handed him, stuffing both the envelope and pen into his shirt pocket. “I got ahold of him. Or, well…” He shrugged and smiled the kind of mean smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nat got ahold of him.” Literally, I’d imagine. So Sonny had bypassed me entirely. I tried not to be offended. “Nat was over on Travis’s side of town,” he explained, picking up on my thoughts. “He talked to him. No visible work-over.” He gestured toward my face. “Can’t say the same for you.” I polished off my slice and wiped my hands on a few cardboard excuses for napkins. “Donna! Pepsi!” Sonny called. She scuttled out from behind the counter and delivered my soda. “Anyway,” he said after she’d gone, “Travis will be in to see you tomorrow to pay in full.” I nodded. “Paul?” he prompted. “Working on it,” I said. Stone silence greeted me. I ventured a glance at him to see a matching stony glare. I supposed I ought to elaborate. “Must be out of town.” Another lie. I locked it into memory and leaned back in the booth. “He didn’t answer his door and there wasn’t a car in the drive.” I sipped my soda and talked to fill the air. “I’m returning to work tomorrow, but it’s going to be back of the house.” There was no way I could walk the dining room looking like a spent punching bag. “Pickups?” He meant the visitors who would be coming in to drop off their payments. “Want me to send Vaughn?” I felt my lip curl. Karl Vaughn was Mr. Slick. In a slithering way. Like, if you shook his hand, he’d leave a trail of slime on your palm from the tons of pomade he pushed through his hair. Fucking hipsters. He’d be less successful at getting money for Sonny given that he looked about as trustworthy as a used car salesman. I blamed the pencil-slim suit pants.

Never trust a man whose junk you could see at a glance. “I have someone else in mind,” I said, unsure if I could trust my own plan. “I was kidding about Vaughn. He’s the wrong fit for Oak & Sage clientele.” Sonny leaned back in the booth, his fingers spinning his cup of coffee. I wondered if it ever became too much, being the biggest bookie in town, buying off cops, putting up with lowlifes every damn day. Or maybe he was too old to give a shit about much of anything. “Plus, Vaughn’s a rookie.” I couldn’t keep from grunting my agreement. “Who are you thinking?” I balled the napkin while I thought. Of all the staff I had employed at Oak & Sage, only one face came to mind as my fill-in. The same face that had popped into my head repeatedly since the night she dragged me in from the cold, loaned me her phone, and offered me a blanket. “New girl,” I muttered. “Can you trust her?” I wanted to say yes. Instead, I told the truth. “Maybe.” He nodded, content with the fact that I was on top of it. “Know for sure by Tuesday afternoon. Travis will be there at two. And it’s a stack of cash, kid.” “Okay.” “Stay out of sight. Travis is a good old-fashioned scumbag. He’ll rat to everyone in town if he sees you looking like—” “Son,” I interrupted, cutting him a petulant glare. “I know.” “I know you know.” He smiled. I stood to leave, dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the table as a tip for Donna. As I exited the restaurant, Sonny called, “Say hi to Paul for me.” Dread covered me from head to toe.

Rena Tasha handed over my Starbucks cup. The sloppy handwritten marker read “Tina.” They rarely got my name right. I’d given up spelling it to them. “Who picked him up? Was she a hot blonde?” She took a sip out of her cup. I’d told her about the other night while we stood in line, leaving out the part about Devlin busted up and bleeding. I didn’t want to make his visit sound more sinister than it was so I kept it simple: He knocked on the door; he borrowed my bathroom. Any more details might raise a red flag and Tasha might warn me against him. I didn’t want to be warned against him. “No idea,” I answered. “The windows of the Mercedes were tinted.” “Ugh. I hate rich, pretty girls.” I stifled my comment about how Tasha was a rich, pretty girl as we made our way to a small corner table in the coffee shop. It was nine-thirty and my shift started at ten, which gave me roughly ten minutes to down my macchiato. “What if he’s married?” she asked, her tone aghast. “He doesn’t wear a ring,” I said a tad defensively. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Still, I doubted someone like Devlin was married. Monogamy didn’t fit. “He could be married and not wear the ring to work. Maybe he picks up chicks that way.” But he hadn’t attempted to pick me up. Not that he’d been thinking of sex at the time. I pictured his cuts and swollen eye and cringed. “He’s probably a jerk. Most hot guys are.” I waited for an “I Hate Tony” story. Instead she smiled. “Tony and I are going to Parade tonight. It’s ladies’ night. Free margaritas. You in?” I shook my head. “I work tonight. Until close.” “We aren’t going until midnight, Reen.” She rolled her eyes. I didn’t want to go to a club and attempt to entertain myself while Tony and Tasha ground against each other on a smoky dance floor. And I didn’t want to expend the energy it would take to avoid the throngs of drunk guys on the prowl on ladies’ night. What I wanted was to go to work and see if Devlin was there. I drummed my fingers on my cup with impatience. Sitting here was killing me. Would he be there today or not? He hadn’t been there the last two days. If he did show today, I wondered if he would mention the other night. After I’d turned down the sausage-fest that would be Parade for the third time, I left Tasha to her phone (sexting Tony, I guessed) and hustled to work. The kitchen was cool, since the grills hadn’t been turned on yet. Typically, I’d find Devlin in the back office or the dining room, but I didn’t see him in either place as I made my way to the storeroom with my coat.

Melinda was leaving as I entered. I dumped my coat onto the large cans of tomatoes lining the shelves. Only then did I register a figure on the opposite side of the storeroom. At first I assumed it was one of the prep guys. Until I caught his profile. A pair of black pants with white pinstripes hugged Devlin’s incredible butt and a white chef’s coat covered his upper half, buttoned to the neck. A black cap shadowing his features completed the uniform. “Hey,” I said on a breath. Because he looked damn fine. His jacket was cuffed, revealing the same naked forearms he’d showcased under his T-shirt sleeves last Friday. His handsome face was still battered, but the swelling had gone down. Bruises couldn’t hide how painfully good-looking he was. My eyes automatically went to his lips. He brushed the side of his mouth with the back of his hand and I realized I was staring. “Sorry.” I shook my head. “You look…better.” He moved his hand away and I watched his tongue dart out to wet the corner of his lips. My thighs clenched. I couldn’t get over the visceral reaction I had to this man. “Working the back?” My plan must have been to fill the quiet air between us by stating the obvious. Without waiting for an answer, I pulled my apron over my head and turned for the doorway. Devlin was in front of me in an instant. “Thank you. For Friday,” he added in a whisper, as if it was an afterthought. His mouth dropped open like he was going to say more, but he didn’t. We stood there for the longest time, me watching him, his shadowed eyes under the bill of his cap watching me watch him. “Have a good shift,” he said, finally. I tried for “okay” but only managed a nod. Turning my back on his powerful presence, I walked out but felt the weight of his gaze on my back the entire way.

Chapter 5

Rena The next day was better. For my tongue, anyway. It managed not to trip over my teeth and collide with my palate when I ran into Devlin. He was in the kitchen, slicing vegetables with a huge knife and dropping them into a tall stockpot. “Soup?” Ah, yes. My superpower of pointing out the obvious was still strong. “Vegetarian.” He wrinkled his nose. “Tell me you’re not one of ’em.” My eyebrows went up. Was Devlin Calvary…talking to me? And not only talking, but actually, maybe, possibly joking. “What if I am?” I teased. His lips tipped. The spark in his eyes hinted at something naughty going through his mind. I thought of all the possible “meat” comments he could say. I’d learned in my short stint as a waitress that kitchen guys had filthy mouths and even filthier minds. I assumed Devlin was no exception. “I’m…I eat…” Don’t say meat. “Whatever,” I finished lamely. I walked away from him with a cringe, stopping in the storeroom to slide my coat from my shoulders. Two warm hands caught the collar and slid it off the rest of the way. “Flexibility,” Devlin said. “I like that in a girl.” I felt his breath in my hair. He was close enough that he barely had to raise his voice. Close enough his body heat blanketed my back. If I turned, where would his delicious lips be in proximity to mine? A girl could have a heart attack just thinking about that. I forced my feet to walk—one step at a time—deeper into the storeroom, where I dropped my purse on a shelf. Devlin tossed my coat over it and assessed me, arms crossed, the muscles there shifting. Trying not to fidget under his scrutiny was akin to breathing underwater—I couldn’t get my body to comply. My hands shook as I put my apron over my head and pulled the ties around my back. He unhooked his arms and took the ties from my hands, his warm fingers brushing my cooler ones. Then he turned me, pulling the strings hard and I nearly backed into him. “Rena,” he said, his voice husky and so sexy my legs began to shake. I was a living, breathing pair of maracas around him. I heard the canvas-on-canvas swish as he crisscrossed the ties at my back. “I have a question for you.” The contents of the storeroom blurred, then disappeared as my lids slid over my eyes. He was just over my ear, leaning in without touching me, but still managed to make every cell in my body dance. Bow knotted, he freed my hair from the neck of the apron, and a zillion goose bumps popped up on my skin from my neck to nipples to kneecaps. I hadn’t wound my hair into a ponytail yet, and wow, was I glad. My lack of preparedness was worth it to feel his fingers sift

through the strands. Le meow. “What was your question?” On the inside I was melting into a puddle. On the outside I stood ramrod stiff, waiting. Waiting for whatever question Devlin Calvary was about to ask me. And knowing, regardless of what it was, that I was going to say yes.

Devlin It was an act. That’s what I kept telling myself while I tried to make small talk and warm Rena to the idea of meeting with Travis in my place. But the second the silk of her chestnut hair ran between my fingers, my act of seduction began resembling the real thing. She smelled good. Like apples and a soft, feminine scent that could only be her skin. As I dropped her mane of hair, I brushed my fingertips along the back of her neck. God damn. Was she this soft everywhere? Blood rushed to my groin and I clamped my teeth down and forced my thoughts back to the goal. I needed her to pick up cash from Travis, and I needed her to not ask too many questions. Which meant she needed to trust me. If she was as good a girl as I suspected, that would take some finesse. She faced me, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide, her breasts rising and falling with each heaving breath. I could kiss her. I could. Mash my lips into hers and taste the candy she rolled from one side of her mouth to the other. A wave of cool peppermint hit me, and my hand, clutching the bow of her apron at the back of her waist, tightened around the fabric. My eyes zoomed in on her lips. Then I snapped myself back to reality. Reality was a storeroom at work where I was charged with picking up and dropping off Sonny’s bookie money with a certain level of professionalism—a level that did not allow for getting towed in by big brown eyes and pursed pink lips. Peppermint-flavored lips. I dropped my hand and took a deliberate step away. Palming my neck, I tried to look chagrined, like she’d bewitched me and I hadn’t mustered the courage to go through with the kiss. I offered her half a smile. She frowned. I decided to get to the point. “My buddy’s coming in today to see me,” I started. That was the truth, though the “buddy” thing was a stretch. “He owes me some money”—also the truth—“and I don’t want him to see me like this.” I gestured to my face. Her brows bowed in concern as she studied my face. Perfect. Her caring about my wellbeing was the perfect primer for what I had to ask. “Did you tell anyone I was at your house on Friday?” I blurted. I needed to know how loyal she’d been, but I could have eased into that topic with more subtlety than a runaway freight train. She started to shake her head, then paused, her mouth forming a little O. “Sort of.” Shit. “ ‘Sort of’?” I stepped closer, standing over her in order to intimidate her into telling me the

truth. She tipped her head back and pinned me with those earnest eyes. “My friend Tasha.” I smelled mint when she spoke. Thought of kissing her again. Swallowed the urge. “But I didn’t tell her that you were beat up in a bar fight.” I narrowed my eyes. Really. Because that was the most interesting part of my being there. Unless…the subject of her story to her friend was only that I’d come over. Which was interesting in a whole other way. “What did you tell her?” I gave Rena a severe look. She shifted on her feet but never took her eyes from mine. “Th-that you showed up because you didn’t have your phone, then you called your girlfriend to pick you up.” My look of severity faded into bemusement. “My girlfriend?” “Your…wife?” The slightest tilt of her eyebrows gave her discomfort away. “Nat is short for Natalie, I assume. That’s why you didn’t want her to see me.” There was general curiosity and then there was this sort of questioning—which was Rena’s way of asking if I was single. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep from smiling down at her. What was it about this girl? Knowing now seduction would work on her, that she’d do whatever I asked and protect me in the process, I closed in on her. Or maybe it was the smell of intoxicating peppermint mingling with the apple smell of her hair drawing me in. Hovering over her, I said, “Nat is about three hundred pounds of huffing and puffing indignity. He is married. I am as single as you are, sweetheart.” Which I didn’t know for sure, but assumed Rena wouldn’t be interested in me if she had a steady boyfriend. That wasn’t the way good girls rolled. I lifted her hand and brushed my lips along her knuckles. Unable to resist, I stroked the tender flesh between her index and middle finger with my tongue once and watched her pupils dilate. I did it again…She bit her lip. The third time I closed my lips over her skin in a wet kiss. Her hips canted left then right in a barely noticeable squirm. That’s when I knew. I had her.

Rena The hostess came for me while I was ringing in an order for one of my tables. “Rena, table ten is asking for you,” Laura said, popping her gum and leaving the kitchen. Table 10 wasn’t in my section. Must be the guy Devlin had told me about—Travis. I finished punching in the order, pleased my speed had increased since the night Devlin had taken over the screen and fixed my order for me. I started for the dining room, but backtracked to get an iced tea refill for table 60, dropped that off, then made my way to table 10. A youngish, short guy with dark spiked hair and a pathetic, patchy attempt at a goatee shot me a shaky smile. I paused at his table and smiled back. “You Rena?” he asked. “Yes. Are you—” “Set your book down.” After a furtive look around, he reached into his coat. I blinked, not understanding. “Excuse me?” “The black book. Your order book.” His forehead glistened. Was he…sweating? “Oh. Sorry.” I pulled the book from my apron and placed it on the table. He opened it, slipped in a bank envelope—a fat one—and then lifted his glass of water and sipped, keeping his eyes on the side exit. I took his ignoring me as a hint our transaction was over, lifted my book, and shoved it back into my apron pocket. Entering the kitchen, I stole a look over my shoulder to find Travis, hands in his pockets, rush out of the exit he’d been eyeballing. Odd. To say the least. The envelope in my pocket seemed to weigh more after seeing how nervous Travis was. It crinkled like it was full of cash. Drug money? Because that transaction was nothing if not laced with guilt and worry. My cheeks flamed. Had I just aided and abetted a felon? My mom was dating a cop. Maybe I should ask Roy. My hand rested on my server book protectively as I thought of my implication. Maybe I shouldn’t. Acting way, way too casual, I headed for Devlin’s workstation in the back. “Rena! Table sixty going out!” another server called, lifting a tray of food onto his shoulder. I called out my thanks. I had about a minute before I needed to run out and check on my table. Just long enough to hand over the money and pretend this never happened. I found Devlin at a stainless steel table deveining a pile of shrimp and swearing at the same time. Other than a pair of grungy prep guys on the other side of the room mixing buckets full of salad dressing and having a conversation in Spanish, the back was empty. Devlin swore again, and I turned my attention to him. “Are you okay?” I asked.

He looked up, his blue eyes bright, his jaw sharp. Far too beautiful to be in the back of this kitchen. Busted-up face and all. Would nothing quell my displaced attraction for him? “Mild allergy.” He peeled off the blue gloves he wore and showed me a very red and swollen index finger. “Must have a hole in the glove. Feels like I’m fingering a jellyfish.” My eyes widened. “Sorry.” He offered a sheepish smile, an expression I’d never, ever seen on his handsome face. I shook my head to let him know he hadn’t offended me. “No, I—” but then I didn’t want to explain. I wanted to get the (possibly outfitted with a tracking device) stack of money out of my pocket. “Travis was here.” I shot a look over to the guys still chatting and laughing. They were ignoring us completely. I scooted closer to Devlin anyway. His lids narrowed as he studied me too closely for comfort. “Travis,” I repeated on a whisper, “was here.” He watched me quietly for a second. Now I was sweating. “What do you think you have there, Rena?” His voice was low and curious. I didn’t think he was trying to be seductive, but his words poured over me like warm honey. I started to pull the book out of my pocket, but he tipped his chin to the door behind me. “Freezer. I’ll join you in ten seconds.” Without questioning him, I moved toward the adjacent walk-in freezer and through the cut strips of plastic hanging just beyond the heavy metal door. The freezer was maybe a third of the size of the walk-in refrigerator, a greenish fluorescent bulb the only light source. Bracing myself against the cold, I let my eyes wander to the boxes of bread, seafood, and containers of ice cream lining the shelves and tried not to think. But stalling my thoughts didn’t change the fact that I’d picked up drug money. Fantastic. Just as my cheeks were starting to chill, the door swung open and Devlin walked in, black cap on backward. He separated the plastic to allow for wide shoulders, dropping the strips behind him. Something about the way he was looking at me solidified my thought that he was dangerous. Dangerous and gorgeous. What a deadly—and irresistible—combination. I fished the envelope from my black book and offered it. Surely he wanted to get this over with quickly so we could both get back to pretending I hadn’t been the equivalent of a drug mule for the payment of illegal narcotics. My heart plunged. I didn’t make it a habit of doing illegal things. Except underage drinking. Drinking that had dragged Joshua to a party he didn’t want to go to in the first place. Drinking that forced him to come and get me and drive me home. That’s why I no longer did “bad” things. Bad things led to worse things. A wave of regret licked at my insides like fire. Nothing new there. Devlin approached, standing so close the envelope crinkled against his chef’s coat and the fire of regret turned into the flicker of desire. He stood over me, mischief glittering in his eyes, mouth flat but a smile hiding there. I sensed more than saw it. “Answer me,” he commanded. Answer him? Under his unblinking stare, it took me a few seconds to regroup. “You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Out there I did. I asked you what you thought you had.” My fist tightened around the money. “I…don’t know.” “No, Rena.” Slowly, he shook his head, his assertive presence overwhelming. “Tell me what you think is in that envelope. If we have any hope of being friends, we can’t lie to each other.” Oh, Lord. My heart. Just tommy-gunning against my ribs like it might leap out of my chest at any moment. Me? Friends? With Devlin? I was definitely a drug-money mule. I pushed the envelope against his chest. “I don’t want to know what it is.” The feel of rockhard muscle against the side of my hand nearly made me forget where I was. His warm hand over mine made me forget who I was. “You think it’s…” He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for me to tell him. I had the notion he wouldn’t let me out of here until I did. So I told him what I thought. “Drug money?” A sharp laugh echoed off the steel walls surrounding us. His full-wattage smile, white teeth against the shadow of his jaw, and the black-and-blue bruises decorating one side of his face beckoned my own smile. I couldn’t help it. “No, sweetheart. Not drug money. A friend who made a bet, and lost.” I thought of Travis’s shifty eyes. “That guy’s your friend?” Devlin shrugged with his mouth. “More like an acquaintance.” He lifted his other hand and pushed a few strands of hair away from my face, then settled his palm on my cheek. “You’re cold.” “We’re in a freezer.” He chuckled, a low, slow sound that tumbled my internal organs like a game of Jenga. Without warning, he closed the gap between us and his lips covered mine. Tenderly at first, minding his healing lip. I felt the faint scratch there, then forgot to notice when he clutched the back of my head, pushed his fingers through my hair, and slanted his mouth. A slow burn started in my stomach then consumed my chest, fanned out to my nipples, and struck the tip of my tongue like flint to stone. I ached to taste him. His jaw scraped my face as his fingers tore down my formerly smooth ponytail. His tongue never entered my mouth, but the kiss seduced me all the same. Then it was over. He pulled away, took the envelope from my outstretched hand, and licked the corner of his mouth, giving me a peek at the tongue I hadn’t tasted. At the door, he parted the plastic strips, but before he left, he gave me a once-over. “Might want to fix your hair before you go back out there. Looks like you were making out in a freezer.” My hand went to my disheveled ponytail as I watched him disappear out the door. I wasn’t cold any longer.

Chapter 6

Rena My mom, with her dyed (what she called “frosted”) Mom-hair and jaunty sweater covered in knit snowmen and various Christmas implements like candy canes and holly, leaned on her elbows at the kitchen table and gave me “the look.” Every mom had her own version of “the look,” and when a daughter sees it, she knows, without words, what it means. Hers always said the same thing: You’ve been single too long. “I think…I work that night.” I stood up from the kitchen table to escape her lethal stare and made a show of rinsing my orange juice glass. She’d invited me over for homemade scones, which I found suspicious because she doesn’t bake. That’s not technically true. She does bake. She doesn’t bake well. But still, I hadn’t expected to her to drop the “I met a nice boy” bomb as I took my third bite. Shockingly, the scones were delicious. That orange marmalade– cranberry one almost made her inquisition worth it. “His name is Barney,” she said. I paced back to the table. “Barney?” She shushed me with a frown and darted her eyes upstairs to where Roy had vanished. Her boyfriend, the police officer, who I’d prefer never found out about my nefarious moneypickup at the behest of my boss. “Sit. Honey, please.” I sat and slumped in my chair. “His name is Barney. I’m sure it’s a family name,” she added, her voice thick with warning. “And he’s coming to dinner on Sunday evening. You already told me you weren’t working so don’t lie about it now.” “That’s when I thought you were going to ask me to go shopping.” She frowned at me and I pouted like a peeved twelve-year-old. “It’s awkward, Mom,” I whined. She was ready for me. She didn’t miss a beat. “So is the fact that you’re almost twenty-three years old and haven’t had a boyfriend since Joshua.” She never spoke his name. She only whispered or mouthed it. Like saying his name quieter might reduce some of the pained memory of finding out her daughter had been trapped in a heap of metal with her no-longerliving boyfriend. I’d been pinned in the wreckage next to him for nearly an hour before help came. Which made the paramedics’ claim that I’d escaped the incident “unscathed” almost laughable. “Are you seeing someone? Is that why you’re not interested in meeting Barney?” “Mom.” “Have you even kissed a boy since Joshua?” “Mom!” Offended, and nervous because I’d kissed a boy less than twenty-four hours ago and hated her supersonic Batmom abilities, my jaw dropped open in horror. But Devlin hadn’t kissed like a “boy,” and my reaction was nowhere near as chaste as when

Joshua placed his perfectly puckered lips onto mine. Joshua and I had been so innocent. And good. So good. I cringed. I’d grown to resent being labeled as good. “I’m sorry to interfere,” she said. “I just want you to be open to the possibility of—” “Being set up by my mom? What if you and Roy get married?” She shushed me again and angled a glance at the stairs. I lowered my voice. “What if this Barney guy and I work out?” Not going to happen. “Then we’d be like…incestuous or something.” My mother clucked her tongue in reprimand. “First off, Roy’s nephew is not related to me and therefore is not a blood relation to you, so your argument is invalid. Second, while Barney isn’t Roy’s son, he’s like a son to Roy. We want the two people we love most to meet. That’s all.” She held up her hands like she’d stop but, much to my dismay, kept speaking. “It’s just dinner. If you two ended up liking each other, and I mean like like”—the scones in my stomach rode a wave of nausea at her suggestive tone—“then you could continue whatever relationship you have with him even if Roy and I got married.” Her cheeks lifted and shaded a pretty color of rose. My parents had divorced right before Joshua died, outfitting my year from hell with an eighth circle. Unlike Mom, my dad had remarried within six months. I wanted to be happy for my mother’s future with Roy, but I couldn’t get the rancid taste of dating Roy’s kin out of my head long enough to feel celebratory. “Sunday at four.” She lifted a plate still holding two scones. It was a standoff I was going to lose. She lifted the plate higher. “The big one’s chocolate chip.” “Fine,” I grumbled, taking the pastry. “I’ll go on a date with Barney.”

Devlin A stakeout might have seemed unreasonable before I got jumped by Flotsam and Jetsam, but after getting pummeled and dumped and left on the side of the road to freeze to death, let’s just say I’d upped my level of suspicion. Since I couldn’t risk Sonny finding out that Paul had been responsible for my ass-kicking, I couldn’t ask anyone on staff to back me up. I did a minor-league stakeout outside of Paul’s house. Two hours later, after I’d watched him take out the garbage, smoke a cigarette, and flip on several lights upstairs and down, I was ninety-five percent sure he was alone. If not, well, I’d put up as good a fight as I could, then ask them to go easy on the face and focus on the torso. I got out of my car, my hand in the pocket of my leather coat. I fingered the small knife I’d brought in case of emergency. If threatened, I could get a good stick or two in and then get away. Those guys had been big, and had the element of surprise on their side, but they were slow. At the front door, I pressed the door handle with my thumb and blew out a breath of relief at my good fortune. Unlocked. I stepped inside, quietly drying my boots on the front mat so I didn’t squeak down the foyer. After treading oh-so lightly, I heard whistling in the kitchen. I peeked around the wall and spotted Paul wearing an ugly pair of pajama pants with reindeer on them and pulling a carton of ice cream from the freezer. His T-shirt stretched over his rounded belly. I knocked on the wall to announce myself. “Hi, Paul.” He spun around, knocking the carton to the floor in the process, and gripping the countertop behind him as if I held a pistol, cocked and ready. I pulled my empty hands from my pockets and held up my palms. “Man, what is with you? I didn’t come to get revenge. I came to help.” I took a step toward him and he nearly crawled onto the sink to get away from me. Where was the brave-slash-stupid guy who’d clocked me in the face the last time I’d seen him? I stopped advancing, keeping the kitchen island between us for both our safety. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you? Because if you don’t, then I might have to kick your ass after all.” He licked his lips nervously. “Can I—can I pick up my ice cream?” I blew out a breath. “Sure.” I slapped my palms onto the counter as he knelt. Outside the kitchen window stood a row of new-built houses in the complex behind his. Huge behemoths with no privacy at all. Maybe a twiggy little tree here and there strung with blue-and-white Christmas lights. Nothing like the neighborhood where I’d grown up, though the houses on our street had had no privacy either, since they were about a yardstick’s length apart. Tight quarters in the

ramshackle little house my parents had made do with. They’d poured all their money into Oak & Sage, and the house, well, the house was just for sleeping. When I noticed Paul had been on the floor far too long to pick up a container of ice cream, I peeked over the island. Ice cream, but no Paul. I took one step toward the family room and saw him army crawling on the carpet. I was on him in a second. He yelped and tried to kick me as I hauled him up. My hand around his throat, I squeezed his flesh through my fingers as I slammed him against the wall. Through clenched teeth, I elicited a warning. “Listen carefully. Sonny doesn’t know about the shit you pulled last Friday. I will not mention it if you tell me what’s going on. If you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll tell him everything and you can deal with him instead of me.” He waved his hands in a frantic gesture and I loosened my hold on his neck. I kept my other hand pressed firmly against his chest and my hips turned to the side, knowing the putz might knee me in the jewels. After that sucker punch, anything went. “Don’t tell Sonny. He’ll kill me, Dev.” His lip trembled. “Why would he kill you?” “I didn’t mean to get in this deep with Tex, but—” “Tex? Tex Shooter?” His street name. A stupid one at that. He was an up-and-comer in the bookie world, and he and Sonny didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Probably because Tex insisted on stealing our list of customers. I dropped my hands and backed away from Paul, who looked sick. He should. He was in deeper shit than I’d thought. “So, those two guys…?” “Came to pick up a payment for Tex. You happened to show the same night.” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I yelled as I pointed at the bruises still decorating half my face. “Instead of getting me beat to hell?” “Because they would have killed you if they knew you were Sonny’s guy!” His frantic shout told me he was likely telling the truth. Or at least what he believed to be the truth. I huffed and propped my hands on my hips while I thought. “I can’t pay you both,” he said, his voice going thin. “Dev, what do I do?” “Besides rent a time machine to go back and avoid Tex altogether?” He flinched. My eyes slipped closed, memories rolling over me despite my attempt to push them away. My father had also left Sonny to bet with a bigger, badder guy in town. Dad got in so far over his head, he had actually given the guy my baseball cards for payment. By the time he was turning over the deed to our house, my father’s psyche had begun to crack. It’d been cold and rainy the night the cops found my dad’s body. The undulating currents of the river had washed him onto the shore a day after he’d jumped. I blamed the rival bookie until I found the suicide note and three hundred dollars stuffed under my mattress. And one baseball card. My cherished Pete Rose. Ironically, a famed gambler. Or maybe not ironically, I thought with sudden clarity. I blinked at Paul. Considered his fate. My face felt numb. Was this idiot trying to reenact my father’s past?

“How much are you in for?” I asked him. “Twenty-two large.” “Twenty-two thousand dollars?” I exclaimed, my voice raising. “I know! I know! I thought Tex’s payout was better.” “Yeah, to get you hooked, you dumbass!” Seriously. Had he learned nothing? “It’s okay. He is letting me strike a deal.” I felt my eye tic. “What kind of a deal?” “Just…a little money laundering.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Oh, just a little?” “My accounting skills should pay off in that respect.” “Yeah,” I said, my tone flat. “Don’t tell Sonny. I need some time. A week, tops.” “I can’t believe I once looked up to you.” I also couldn’t believe I was considering helping him out of this. But the night the cops found my dad, it was Paul who showed up and wrapped a blanket over my shoulders and hauled me to his car. Paul who cleared out his home office and bought me a bed to sleep in until I got on my feet. I was eighteen and scared, alone for the first time in my life—like, really alone. I knew nothing. I had no one. “I could use your advice on a game. One game.” He pointed to the kitchen where ice cream puddled on the floor behind the counter. “I have the paperwork in there.” I was already shaking my head. “Come on, Dev. You understand odds. You’ve always been good at this. Better than me, even when you were a kid.” Yeah. Growing up with a career gambler made me good at what I did. “One game,” he repeated. “I know you remember scores and matchups in the past. Your memory would save me looking up the stats. Help me connect the dots.” He was right. It was all logged in my brain, organized in a way that, in a glance, I would be able to help him make the most solid winning bet. Arguably, I owed him a debt impossible to repay. He stepped past me, ignoring the ice cream melting on the floor, and gathered together the sheets of paper strewn across the counter. “You’d think I’d be better at this since I’m an accountant.” “You’d think,” I said drily. If Sonny caught me helping Paul, he’d throttle me. At least fire me. And I needed that relationship. Hell, half of Oak & Sage’s profits came from gamblers dining and drinking in my restaurant. “No harm, right?” Paul’s shaky smile returned. “Wrong,” I said. “I’m going to basically help you rob Sonny, which surprise, surprise, he will not appreciate.” “That’s where you’re wrong.” Paul shuffled the papers into an order that only made sense to him. This man used to be confident, not the desperate, twitchy mess in front of me. But Dad had been like this right before he died, too. The pressure of debt and owing money to big, bad guys could turn any grown man into a sniveling kid. “There’s no more betting after this, Dev. I swear.”

It was a lie. When someone was in as deep as he was, it wasn’t as easy as saying one and done. But given the option of letting him get in trouble with Tex, what choice did I have? I didn’t know the other bookie, but I’d gotten about as up close and personal with his guys as I cared to. Letting Paul walk off Bay Bridge on Christmas Eve, with a bottle of Jack in his hand and a bleak outlook on life wasn’t an option. I couldn’t lose anyone like that again if I hoped to maintain my sanity. I held out my hand and accepted the papers.

Chapter 7

Rena At work the next day, my mind was predominately focused on Devlin. More accurately, Devlin’s lips. And how his kiss, despite the industrial freezer, had left me hot both inside and out. I’d had butterflies in my stomach the first time I’d seen my high school boyfriend so I knew what they felt like. The sweet flutter hinting at possibility. But when I entered the kitchen at Oak & Sage and started for the prep area in the back, the anticipation in my stomach felt more like gargoyles with huge, leathery wings. When Devlin dropped a knife with a clang and stalked away from the table, those beasts took flight and rattled my bones. I followed him, trying to look as if I wasn’t following him. He stepped into the storeroom and so did I. He turned, I sucked in a breath, and waited for that heated look in his eyes or for him to give me a nod of recognition. He did neither. Instead, he edged by, mouth set, eyes frowning, and didn’t so much as acknowledge me when he walked in the opposite direction. I’d been blown off before. This moment didn’t feel unlike my high school’s hallway the afternoon Joshua avoided me for two entire days because my ex-friend Jackie had started a rumor that I’d kissed Carl Young. I dumped my coat in the storeroom and tugged my apron over my head. Devlin was back at his workstation, cubing steak and tossing the pieces onto a metal tray filled with various other vegetables. I stood and watched him for a few seconds, trying to decide if I should start a conversation or be witty or— “What do you want?” he growled. I blinked at him. His face was stone. Angry stone. Was this the same man who had turned me inside out with an intimate kiss yesterday? I opened my mouth to say “Screw you” or a more colorful version of it, but then I remembered he was still my boss. Sadly, I couldn’t afford to be fired for giving my tongue free range. So, I left the kitchen, unsaid words eating my organs like acid. Around nine o’clock, I was cut from the floor. Relieved not to have any last-minute guests or campers at my tables, and more than ready to go home. Devlin had gone out of his way to ignore me the entire shift. Even when he’d come out of the back to do some “general managing” of the kitchen staff. Of course, I didn’t exactly go out of my way to speak to him. So maybe the fault was partially mine. No. Screw that. It was his. My side work duty was the unpleasant job of hauling boxes of rolls from the freezer to a shelf in the kitchen where they would thaw overnight. I grunted past him four times while dragging a heavy box, and he did a spectacular job of refusing to lift his chin and concede that

I existed. As I was huffing and puffing, I thought of Roy’s nephew, Barney, and wondered if he was a gentleman. Our kind-of-date was Sunday, and I’d begun to think I might enjoy a chance to meet a nice guy. A real boy who wouldn’t ask me to do his dirty work only to punish me for it twenty-four hours later. It also occurred to me that I’d been used. Knowing that hurt. My first venture out of my singledom cave and I’d been caught in a snare. So unfair. I blame what happened next on being hopped-up on my own indignation. Someone called for a food runner to the dining room. My arms hurt from a full shift, and the tray filled with four heavy platters of ribs and braised pork chops and surf and turf didn’t beckon me in the least. All I wanted was to restock my sugar caddies, wipe down my booths, and go home. Maybe lick my wounds a little. Draw a picture of Devlin outfitted with horns and a forked tongue. That might make me feel better. That, and a drink. The call came again and I ground my teeth. Other than Bess, no one was in the kitchen but me, and she was busy tallying her receipts to turn in for the night. She wasn’t wearing an apron any longer and had taken down her curly blond hair. I knew she’d swipe a few of those curls through barbecue sauce if she attempted to shoulder the tray. Sigh. I was the only option. I’d begrudgingly walked toward the tray when a voice boomed over my shoulder. Devlin’s voice. “If I don’t have a food runner in three seconds—” Anger welling up from earlier, I forgot my place entirely, gestured to the tray in front of me, and boomed back, “What the hell do you think I’m doing?” I’d screamed at him. Full-on screamed. The kitchen fell so quiet I swore the air had been sucked out of the room. All eyes were on me. Including Devlin’s. Finally. But the heat in his eyes and the curl of his upper lip weren’t exactly the reaction I’d been going for. Eerily calm, he pointed at the floor in front of him and spoke, his voice pure steel. “My office. Now.” He turned and stalked away, and I felt his fury as if I were standing next to a volcano about to explode. Melinda entered the kitchen and lifted an eyebrow. Then smiled. Her dancing on my grave told me this was bad. Like, bad, bad. But I wouldn’t let anyone see me intimidated. Head held high, I marched to the office, where he must already be because there was no sign of him on the way. I passed the dishwasher, two other servers wheeling racks of frozen mugs to the bar, and a couple of prep guys who looked as pleased as Melinda had about my bleak circumstance. Just yesterday Devlin asked me to do something for him and then kissed me for it. Today, he treated me like garbage. If he wanted to pull rank at this point in time, he had to know that I wasn’t going to be his girlfriend when he needed favors and his lackey at work. I’d been single far too long to allow a man to disrespect me. Even one as hot as Devlin

Calvary. I stepped into the office, and the moment I was over the threshold, he shut the door behind me. The tiny room was choked with clipboards and paper, a wall filled with shelves holding bottles of liquor, and a computer, desk, and chair. There couldn’t have been more than three square feet of empty floor space. I backed away from the door and my heel bumped into a huge safe, knocking me off balance. He grabbed my upper arm, I mistakenly thought to save me from falling, until he spun me around and put my back to the door. The metal blinds covering the window crinkled under my shoulders. Heart hammering, I peered up at his angry line of a mouth and, for a scant second, felt afraid of him. He placed his hands on the closed door at either side of my head, looking down at me with the same sexy intent I’d experienced in the walk-in freezer. Only in here I wasn’t cold. Heat poured off him in waves. “Say you’re sorry,” he commanded. My eyebrows slammed down, but the “Hell no” on my tongue wouldn’t come forth. He was too close, and his being near—the smell of him, the feel of him—had muddied the signal from my brain to my mouth. “Why?” I challenged. “Because you humiliated me in front of the staff. If I didn’t bring you back here and demand an apology, the rest of them would rise up. Then no one would respect me.” I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. His voice was low and sinister, but there was a certain twinkle in his eye. I could see it, because his nose was inches from mine, his blue eyes regarding me from under a fan of dark lashes. He came even closer, erasing the distance between us. I could smell the food smearing his apron—blood from the steak and various salad dressings. Vinegar, or maybe cracked pepper tickled my nose. “Apologize,” he said. “And walk out of here looking dejected.” His was a game I refused to play. I met his eyes in challenge. “Why don’t you just chew me out instead and I’ll leave pissed off?” Where had my snark come from? I didn’t know, but the stronger inner me lifted her palm for a high five. “Chew you out.” Devlin’s lips were just over mine. “Mmm. I’d like that.” As if on cue, a thrumming heartbeat kicked to life between my thighs, making this whole situation disconcerting. Desirable. That, too. It was as if I didn’t know me at all when he was around. Nervously, I licked my lips, watching his bright blues track my tongue’s movement. Yep. I was calling his bluff. Drawing my shoulders back, I brushed against his filthy apron with my chest. See? I don’t mind getting dirty. From his clothes or from him. I could handle Devlin. I could handle a whole lot of Devlin. “So would I,” I breathed, tempting the dragon.

Devlin So. The good girl wanted a good fuck. I’d seen lots of girls look at me like this. There was no other way to describe the heat in Rena’s eyes or the way she leaned close. She wanted me. With one hand, I untied the knot at the back of my prep apron and pulled it over my head. Her eyes followed the apron’s path to the floor before leveling her gaze on me. A good girl. I tossed the words around my head. A good girl was a new concept for me, one I’d never embraced. I’d long been a fan of the bad girl. The girl who wanted to shoot tequila, then sixty-nine, and not call me in the morning. But the thought only ushered in the visual of Rena in a number of positions underneath me and on top of me. I liked that idea even more. I’d been avoiding her all day. Not only had I not slept last night, unless you count the thirty-minute catnap after Paul and I had devised our plan to get him out of the epic shit pile he’d buried himself in, but I’d also realized involving Rena further wouldn’t be fair. To her or to me. I didn’t need her around, asking questions, worrying if I was siphoning drug money through the restaurant for God’s sake. I could make a clean break. She’d picked up one payment. I’d kissed her one time. Walking away would be easy. Or so I’d thought. Don’t mistake my excuses for honor; that was a choice born of self-preservation. I knew a good girl would rat me out, would lose sleep over my so-called evil deeds. I knew I shouldn’t drag her in deeper. She dropped her head against the office door, crushing the blinds behind her. If anyone walked by, they’d know she was leaning against the door. Would they think I’d pinned her there with my body and kissed her hard, my hands in her pants? I didn’t really care what they thought. Let them think and suppose and wonder. She blinked big, bedroom eyes at me, her lashes shadowing their depths. But I saw what was there all the same. Sloppy, unorganized emotions the chicks I usually slept with didn’t have the brain capacity to catalog. Which made Rena a messy choice for me. Also, exciting. A long, loose lock of hair the color of molasses had come undone from her ponytail. I twirled it around the tip of my finger. She’d trapped me in here without even meaning to, and I found myself throwing away every intention I had prior to this very moment. Voice low, I asked, “Have you imagined this, Rena?” Her dark eyes widened the slightest bit, her pupils widening right along with them. That was a yes if I’d ever seen one. And I’d seen a lot of yeses. Her soft, pink mouth formed the word for me anyway. “Y–yes.”

My lips pulled into a smirk. What was it about her that made me reckless? Correction: more reckless. I ran my finger down her neck and watched her pulse flutter there, even as she tipped her head back in invitation. She wanted me. That’s what it was. Good girls didn’t want me. They thought they did, but the moment I laid it on thick, they shied away from the intensity. Yesterday in the freezer, and now against the door…hell, when I was bloody and standing in her living room, Rena should have been intimidated. She should have been afraid. But her rising and falling chest and dilated pupils didn’t echo fear. She wanted me. Me. The idea of someone so good wanting someone like me jolted my heart into a new rhythm. Like Frankenstein’s monster, alive after being cold and dead—stray, unfeeling limbs brought together for renewed purpose. Pins and needles cascaded over me, making me uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to deal with someone quite this honest. But that, I was learning, was Rena. She was not only beautiful, but she’d let me into her house and challenged me. Tried to give me a blanket, for God’s sake. Then she’d turned me on in the freezer when I kissed her sweet mouth. She was turning me on now, according to the steel rod between my legs. Cock straining my pants, I leaned into her belly. Her mouth dropped open, eyelashes fluttering the second my body touched hers. I thought of our chaste kiss in the freezer, how I’d left her in there, my fingers having destroyed her hair, the faint pink scratch on her sensitive skin from my jaw. I could use another kiss or three like that. Especially if she’d let me. Taking advantage of her dropped jaw, I leaned in and stroked the roof of her mouth with my tongue, then drew away. She blinked at me, her eyes as heavy as if she’d been drugged. An excellent sign. I smiled. Couldn’t help it. She responded to me differently from anyone I’d experienced. Usually I brought a girl home and she attacked me; had her tongue down my throat and her hand down my pants outside my door, and dropped to her knees to suck me off before I had the keys out of the lock. Not Rena. She was waiting. For me. I liked that. “I’m not what you’re used to.” I nipped her upper lip and kissed it. “But I’m what you like.” Maybe I was a notch on her cotton-candy pink compact. A chance to check off “do the dirty with the bad boy” from her sexual to-do list. Well, I didn’t care what her motivation was. She could check off every sexual exploration with me and I’d gladly oblige. The little hitch in her breath was enough to spur me forward. Untying the bow from her apron, I yanked it over her head and tossed it to the floor with mine. Her belt went next. I tore open her pants and ripped down the zipper as she clutched my uniform shirt with one fist, lifted her chin, and boldly met my eyes. Look at her go. Trailing my fingers around her lower back, I wedged my fingers around her panties and pants and yanked them halfway down her ass. I darted my tongue into her mouth, and her lips closed over my tongue, sucking so hard I swear I saw stars. When she freed me, I had to swallow before I found my voice. “Ever been taken against a door, Rena?”

She shook her head, her breathing growing faster. I bet she’d let me. Right here in this tiny, shitty office, with people outside the door. I liked knowing how far she’d go for me. I breathed against her open mouth and she strained to kiss me. I backed out of her reach and a cry sounded in her throat. “Ever been taken from behind?” Another shake. “Would you like to be?” A nod. My balls tightened. “Right now?” She bit her lip. Almost time to let her off the hook. But this expedition had taught me plenty. I should be ashamed of myself for pushing her. Might have been if she hadn’t reached down right then and stroked the length of my cock through my checkered work pants. “Sweetheart.” My voice came out in a strangled moan, like the hitch in her breath had transferred to me during our kiss. I was rock hard. I dropped my forehead onto hers, smashed her body against mine, feeling her swells and curves through our clothes. “That’s an invitation,” I growled. “Handwritten,” she said against my lips. I kissed her again, my tongue tangling with hers as she clawed at my back with one hand and stroked me with the other. I was mistaken. This good girl was bad. It didn’t make me like her less. More, actually. I fisted the waist of her pants and pulled them past her thighs. Someone banged on the door, startling us. Rena slipped out from beneath me, pulling her pants up in one swift motion. I caught a glimpse of pale, plump thighs. No stick legs on her. My raging erection approved. “What?” I yelled at the panel, peering through a space in the disheveled blinds. One of the servers, Melinda, was on the other side. Her forehead crinkled. “I need change for a hundred.” She pressed the bill against the glass and I brushed the blinds into place, hiding her from view. Rena was frantically stuffing her shirt into her pants and redressing. When she moved for the door, I stopped her with a hand around her upper arm. She couldn’t go out into the kitchen looking like she did. She looked—God—beautiful. But also like she’d been slammed against a door and nearly brought to orgasm by her boss. That wasn’t good. Well, it was good, but everyone finding out was not good. I glanced at the blinds again. The staff needed to believe we’d argued. And Rena and I had to sell it. I bet her big brown eyes only ever told the truth. She needed to believe I was still angry despite of what just happened. Which meant I’d have to lay it on thick. Pointing at her, I lifted my voice so it would carry through the door. “You ever pull a stunt like you did tonight, and I’ll fire your ass. I don’t give a shit how privileged you think you are; you have a job to do, and while you’re on the clock, I expect you to do it.” Rena’s eyes filled first with confusion, then glittered with a thin sheen of anger or the beginning of tears. Perfect. That was what everyone needed to see. I kept the scowl on my face as she reached past me and pulled open the door. A small audience of five had gathered. Their looks of shock were priceless. Before Rena

made it over the threshold, I said her name. She spun around, the hurt on her face so prevalent my heart lurched for a split second. I could explain later, but for now, I needed her pissed. “Forget something?” I pointed at her apron on the floor by my feet. She knelt and snatched it up, then split the crowd like a bowling ball into pins. I gestured for Melinda to come to me and snatched the hundred-dollar bill out of her hand. Kneeling, I spun the safe and pulled it open and counted out smaller bills to make change for her. “She’s different, isn’t she?” I could hear Melinda’s disapproving sneer over my shoulder. She meant Rena, and she was right. Rena was different. But Melinda meant it as an insult, and I was nothing short of intrigued. Different wasn’t something I thought I needed. Until now. I decided to go to her when I was done here. Four hours later, I found myself on her stoop, banging on her front door.

Chapter 8

Rena Snow started to fall a little after midnight. The television was tuned in to some random sitcom, the canned laughter keeping me company while I sketched. I didn’t sketch Devlin. I hated him too much. Not for yelling at me, which I knew was for the sake of the servers loitering outside the door, but because he’d had my pants halfway off inside of a minute, and I didn’t feel the least bit ashamed. Maybe I was mad at myself. With my ring finger, I shaded the edge of the beer bottle I’d just drawn, considering. Would I have had sex with him in that office? Yes. I would have. I’d have let him feed my clothes into a shredder if there’d been one large enough to do the job. My reaction scared me. Because I was supposed to be angry with him, and I was supposed to be loyal to Joshua. I know how stupid that sounds. How can you be loyal to someone who’s not living? But that had been my coping mechanism—my psychologist’s words—since Joshua passed away. If I believed I still belonged to him monogamously, I’d stay out of harm’s way. But after four and a half years of staying out of harm’s way, I’d apparently developed a fondness for harm. Nothing about Devlin was safe. I wanted to prove, if only to myself, that I was the same girl who pushed Joshua into his first alcoholic drink. I was the one who talked him into sex the first time. It was me who coerced him into skipping church to go down on me in the county fair parking lot. I liked that girl. Once upon a time, I’d embraced her. But then he died a saint—struck down by a drunk driver—and I became a saint by proxy. I was in that car. I saw the accident happen. Lightning fast, and yes, I was drunk, but I saw Joshua not looking at the road. Had he been looking, he may have seen the car run the stop sign. He hadn’t. He hadn’t been looking because he’d been arguing with me. My last words to him—the last words I ever spoke to him were heated from the argument we’d been having. They echoed in my mind now. Look at me, Joshua. Then he had. Pounding at my door made me jump and my pencil jerked on the paper, drawing a harsh line over my careful shading. Irritated, I threw down my sketchpad, reached for the remote to mute the TV, and stood from the couch. Who the hell…? Tash, I guessed. By the sound of the knock she wasn’t happy. She and Tony probably had a fight and she had come here to complain. I’d have to refrain from saying I told her s— Door open, I froze when it revealed Devlin instead of my crying best friend. Snow decorated his hair, and a thick gray-blue knit scarf was wrapped around his neck and tucked into a leather jacket zipped halfway up. His bruised face, his wide form, his battered jeans…every inch of him looked amazing. He watched me and I watched him as the seconds passed.

Visible breaths left his lips. My face chilled in the elements coming through my open door. Stubbornly, I lifted my chin and cocked an eyebrow, daring him. To do what, I had no idea. Turned out I didn’t have to explain. He rushed me, one hand landing on the side of my neck, the other on my waist. He smelled like the cold and some sort of liquor. Whisky, maybe. I only ever drank light beer, so I wasn’t sure. His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting sweet and warm, and swept against mine as I wrenched the scarf from his neck and worked the coat from his shoulders. He’d come to me. I could hardly believe it. I heard his boot kick the bottom of the door until it clicked, and we were shut into my apartment. He pulled at the band holding my ponytail, yanking it free and a few hairs with it. The biting pain in my scalp felt almost good. Because he caused it. This didn’t bother me. Nothing about this bothered me. His mouth left mine and his teeth raked against my lips and jaw, then bit at the side of my neck before sucking my skin and soothing the phantom pain with his mouth. He backed me into the dark hallway, pressing my back to the wall with the length of his hard body. His erection pushed on my belly and I reached for him, wedging my hand between the scant bit of space separating my soft cotton shirt and his worn denim. His hands dug under my shirt, electrifying my skin with his touch. When he found my breasts free, he pinched one of my nipples hard enough to make me cry out. He muzzled the sound with his mouth, and the sensation of his hot, wet tongue on mine spun my head. Righted my wrongs. Buried my skeletons. Is that what Devlin was to me? Some sort of liberator? In a way, he’d liberated me already. I was alive and aware, and for the first time in years, I realized I hadn’t died alongside Joshua. One of Devlin’s hands left my breasts and thrust into my yoga pants. His cool fingers moved beneath my cotton panties and slid over my center. I was wet. So wet, I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t so turned on. Or if he didn’t say, in an almost reverent tone, “You’ve been making me crazy for a week.” He thrust a finger deep inside me, and when my mouth fell open, he kissed me, the seductive slide of his tongue against mine making me even wetter against his hand. “I told you I was what you liked.” His voice was as raw as his method. Being wanted, feeling wanted after being closed off and hunkering down, felt better than I could have imagined. And, oh, I’d imagined. Another finger entered me, and my knees buckled. I braced my lower back against the wall to keep from sliding to the floor. Like I’d confessed to him at work tonight, I’d never been taken against a door. I’d never been taken like this. Never. And I would swear on a stack of Bibles that this—his touch; our frantic, sloppy pairing—was exactly what every cell in my body needed. “Take off your shirt and show me those beautiful nipples.” He slipped his fingers from my body but continued to move over me sensually while my mind hummed and my body buzzed. I reached for the hem of my shirt as his fingertips danced over my folds, making me see lights where there were none.

So good. So bad, but so good. Freed from my shirt, I dropped it at his feet. A nanosecond later, he ravished my breasts. His teeth snagged, his jaw raked. His touch hurt but satisfied at the same time. Gentle would have reminded me of Joshua, of the girl I no longer wanted to be. But Devlin, no…Devlin wasn’t gentle. His fingers quickened their maddening pace, then plunged deep as his thumb played my clit. An orgasm and a scream of release built in my throat. His mouth left my nipple to swallow my cries, but he kept the pace of his expert fingers until I crumpled against him. Wordlessly, I begged into his mouth, bleating for him to stop because I couldn’t take any more…couldn’t take it…and then I felt my release, pounding out a rhythm, and my body clutched his. A few ragged breaths later, the fireworks fizzled from behind my eyes, the pulsing between my legs becoming less frantic. I opened my lids and surveyed the man in front of me. Devlin had one knee between my legs and was holding me up with it. My knees had given after all, I realized. He had my breast in his hand and a contented smile on his face, and I thought he might be the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen in my life. Forcing strength into my limbs, I stood. When he straightened with me, I pawed at his shirt. He let me strip him, helping haul the long-sleeved knit over his head when I couldn’t reach any higher than his shoulders. With his arms raised, I got a good look at the tattoo I’d caught a glimpse of the night he’d showed up at my house, bleeding and battered. An artistic number 7, shaded black, rested just above his armpit. I wondered what it meant but knew better than ask. He put his arms down and I ran a hand up his chest, admiring two flat brown nipples against his near-flawless skin. I smoothed my palm over his rounded pecs dusted with dark hair, and along a small silver scar next to his collarbone. I followed the trail of hair to his abdomen and stuck a finger into his belly button, watching when his abs flexed, each line and dent begging for my tongue to taste. His body was a perfect combination of sinew and muscle. Hands splayed over his chest, I darted my tongue out to wet first one nipple, then the other. He tasted clean, smelled like soap, and I inhaled him as I dragged my fingers down to unsnap his jeans. When I pulled down his zipper, his hot length fell into my hand. No underwear. I should’ve known. I looked. Just looked and looked and looked. Joshua had been…well. He’d been seventeen. We both had. Now that I saw what Devlin was packing, I realized my high school boyfriend had done little to prepare me for this. Devlin’s penis was both wide and long, jutting upright from his body, his erection straight and proud. A symbol that there was no shame in what we were doing. There’d been no talk of love or promises; of not going too fast. There’d been no preamble, no “touch me there for ten seconds” or “just kiss the tip.” There was only him. Only me. Only whatever we wanted in this space and time. And I wanted him. “Turn around.” At the sound of his voice, I stopped staring and lifted my head.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. His lips flinched, almost a smile as he looked down at me. “I made you a promise earlier.” I remembered. We’d fulfilled one of his “promises.” Now onto the other. Have you ever been taken from behind? Joshua had always insisted we look at each other, hold hands, and intertwine our fingers like they did in the movies. Do it in a bed. Never in the car. Never on the couch. Never in the hallway. So far, Devlin hadn’t been careful with me at all. He wasn’t going to ease me into our first time. He was going to push me up against this wall and…and…take me. My pulse kicked into high gear. I wasn’t sure if he intimidated or intrigued me. Maybe both in equal measure. He didn’t wait for my answer, launching his tongue into my mouth, robbing me of breath. His face blotted out my peripheral vision. All I could see was him. His fingers pinched my nipples almost too hard, deleting the thoughts swarming my brain. I whimpered and he eased off. I grabbed his cock with both hands and wondered what he might feel like inside of me. Huge, I imagined. I swallowed, trepidation quaking my limbs. “I’m…” But before I finished speaking, his fingers entered me again.

Devlin Rena was so wet. When I slipped past her silky folds, my dick pulsed in time with my heartbeat. She was also nervous. Maybe even a little afraid. But not of me. Not with the hold she had on me, or the bold way she’d stripped me of my shirt. No, her fear was more of her reaction to me. Again a thought niggled about how she was different from any other girl who’d ever shed her clothes for me. Just when I thought I might go easy on her, the hand she’d moved to my biceps tensed, the one wrapped around my shaft squeezed, making me grind my back teeth together. Tension ebbed off her, like she’d stiffened every muscle in her body. Her reaction served as a reminder that a quick bang against the wall wasn’t typically her style. I wanted to know how far she’d allow me to take her. Already she was proving to be a girl I couldn’t scare away. Not that I was testing her. Or was I? Curious about every inch of her, I slipped my fingers from her core and gripped her hips, turning her to face the wall. She went willingly, putting her hands on either side of her head like she was under arrest. Cute, but not what I was going for. Leaving her spread before me, I untied and kicked off my boots, keeping my eyes on her the entire time. Her pale nude back. The way her silken hair tumbled over her skin. She was too, too gorgeous waiting against the wall for me to come to her. I slipped my jeans off my legs as quickly as I could, then stood behind her, naked. Now to get her the same way. I gripped the waist of her stretchy black pants and panties and eased them over her hips, revealing her smooth, round ass in all its glory. She was slim but curvy, her waist nipped in, her spine a perfect straight line; a shadowed dent along the middle of her back. I pulled her pants down and lifted one of her feet, then the other, before tossing her pants on top of my jeans. Closing my hand around one of her wrists, I lifted her arm over her head and watched as her back rose and fell with her quickening breaths. I moved her other wrist to join that one, pinning both hands to the wall as I shoved her dark hair aside. With my fingertips, I drew a line down the center of her back then followed the path to her bare ass, where I skimmed my fingers between her cheeks and watched them clench. My mind whispered the words beautiful, exquisite, amazing. I said none of them. Compliments weren’t exactly my forte. Next I slipped my fingers between her legs and groaned, pleased when I found her soaked. She was absolutely soaked for me. I loved it. I inserted first one finger and then the other, enjoying the feel of her almost as much as I enjoyed watching her ass lift and her body writhe while I held her captive. Her movements

were slow and languid, and she didn’t resist my hold on her wrists at first. When she did fight me, I tightened my grip and she stilled. Giving in. I liked that. I kissed her back, first a soft press of my lips against her spine, then higher, and higher still. Covering her with my body from chest to balls, I licked and kissed the back of her neck, listening to her clipped exhalations. Something about the way she reacted to me hinted that we were kindred spirits. Impossible. She was Red Riding Hood to my Big Bad Wolf. Yet I found myself loosening my hold on her wrists, sliding my body along hers slowly as I touched her. I wanted to please her. Not so she’d please me. Just because I wanted to see her shatter. Between her legs, I replaced my fingers with the head of my dick, dipping into her wetness, then out, sliding in just a little. I didn’t get farther than her entrance when she made the cutest squeaking sound, tightening my stomach and making me even harder. Who knew I could get harder? Gritting my teeth through the pleasant pain, I released her hands, granting her free rein. “Okay?” I whispered against her ear. Keeping her arms overhead, she nodded, her face pressed to the wall. I gripped her hips with both hands and knelt for better access. She was so wet, so hot, I ached to drive into her and relieve the pressure continuing to build, but I forced myself to use my brain rather than my throbbing penis for a moment. Condom. There was a handy thought. “Don’t move,” I instructed, backing away from her and regretting it instantly. How had I come to miss her warmth already? I snatched my pants and rifled through my wallet until I found one of the condoms I’d wedged in there last month. A whole month since I’d been laid. Not my longest stint, but pretty damn long. I rolled on the latex, musing how when I’d put protection in my wallet, I’d never imagined Rena. No part of me could have dreamed I’d encounter so much sweetness. Some of her hair had fallen over her back and I pushed it aside again. So much softness. I slid my hand down her back. So much trust. I drew my palm back and laid a sharp slap against her butt cheek. “Oh!” She pulled her arms down and pushed on the wall, sliding me the sexiest gaze over her shoulder. I couldn’t help grinning. “What are you waiting for?” Her sultry voice dragged me in. I crushed my body against hers, savoring the small chuckle that sounded in her throat. I licked her ear, then bit it lightly. My good girl was bad. Or maybe she was bad only with me, which made my chest swell with pride. “Ready?” “Yes.” No sweeter word could have been spoken. Bending my knees, I lined us up and eased into her. She accepted me, inch by agonizing inch, her channel wrapping around me like a warm, wet fist. She threw her head back, the strands of her hair spilling over my chest and shoulder, sending a full-body chill racing down my spine and legs. Holding on to her hips, I held her ear between my teeth and listened to her breaths. Uneven, hectic.

“Okay?” I asked again. Her hand clamped onto my hair and tugged. I took that as an affirmative. I drove into her to the hilt. She cried out and I uttered a harsh curse, sank my teeth into her shoulder, and eased up before I left a mark. Longevity hadn’t been a problem since I’d been a teenager, but I found myself struggling; listing stats from horse races and football games from the last decade to keep myself distracted. But the numbers were obliterated when she squeezed me from within, and moaned my name. Moaned. My name. Air stuttered from my lips as I slid in and out of her in a maddening rhythm. The way she’d said it, Devlin. Devlin…like a prayer. Or a wish. Or a dream that caused her to thrash and tangle in her sheets, then wake sweating and pulsing for release. I wanted her there, too. In sheets. This wouldn’t be enough, this hallway hookup, I thought with sudden, sickening clarity. She slammed against my hips, taking me deeper. I made it two more, maybe three more thrusts tops, before I spilled into the condom. I had to move one hand from her and brace the wall to keep from collapsing to the floor with the force of my orgasm. My other hand was on her hip and I squeezed her flesh with my fingers, struggling to even my breathing. “Devlin.” She turned her head and kissed my face, half on the corner of the mouth, half on my chin because of the awkward angle. “Devlin,” she repeated, her lips soft on mine. Her pliant body yielding to mine. Damn. Every clanging bell rang an alarm in my head. A “time’s up” panic button telling me I needed to go. That bell had been my only ally for years. I backed out of Rena’s incredible body with a grunt and saw the damp hair matted to her temple, and a smile…a fucking smile… resting on her plump, pink mouth, and then I knew. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not just yet.

Chapter 9

Rena Devlin disappeared into my bathroom across the narrow hallway, leaving me to survey the damage. His jeans, my pants, our shirts were spread across the carpet, his boots several feet apart, one standing up, one on its side. I’d just had unplanned, amazing sex. Against a wall. My smile didn’t fade for a second. After disentangling my panties, I slipped into them, then into my yoga pants, and pulled my shirt over my head. Socks were still in place, which made me wonder if I’d looked silly wearing only a pair of black anklets. If so, I hadn’t heard a single complaint from Devlin. In fact, I suspect I’d heard a few compliments. Words like “beautiful nipples” and “you’ve been making me crazy for a week” bounced in my brain. They’d sounded like compliments to me anyway. I gathered a guy like him didn’t exactly bare his soul during hallway sex. If ever. Muscles sore and legs spent, I sank down the wall and sat, watching the bathroom door. Water from the sink was running. I spotted Devlin’s wallet open and lying on his jeans. I bit my lip, debating, but before I thought about it too hard, picked it up and peeked inside. A driver’s license photo showed his hair much shorter than it was now, a formidable scowl lining his forehead. I also spied a gas card, a grocery store card. How…pedestrian. The edge of a business card with handwriting on it peeked out from under a flap, but reading it seemed like an even bigger invasion of privacy so I didn’t look. After a quick glance at the bathroom door, I did look in the money compartment. Holy shit. Hundreds. A lot of them. Twenty? Thirty, maybe. And a few folded and off to the side. I fanned through them at the same time I heard the doorknob turn. I slapped the wallet shut and tossed it next to his jeans as the door swung open. Devlin’s gaze went from where I’d been standing down to my seat on the floor. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, feeling guilty but trying not to look it. I gave him what I hoped didn’t look like a guilty smile. I couldn’t believe I’d spied on him. What was he doing with all that cash? I had like…thirteen dollars in my purse. Maybe. My thoughts blanked as I eyed his naked, beautiful form. Thick, muscular thighs, flat, flexing abdomen, wide chest, broad shoulders. A face handsome enough to stop my breath. Had I really just had sex with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen? My eyes trailed down to his penis, large and tempting enough to make me stab my lip with my teeth. He bent to retrieve his jeans and a small complaint sounded in my throat when he covered himself and buttoned his pants. Shirtless, he sat down next to me, his bare upper arm touching my clothed shoulder. “Aren’t you cold?” I asked. He wasn’t. Heat rolled off his body. “Nah. You?” I shook my head.

He mimicked my position, locking his arms around his knees, then turned his head to the left to study me. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. What to do. Finally, words came. Not all that elegant, but I’d take just about anything over this penetrating silence. “What’s next?” “Next?” He looked halfway amused, his eyebrows set at a regal slant, his lips quirked. “Yeah. I don’t really hook up. So…” So, I had no idea if I was supposed to show him out, invite him to my bedroom, or make him a snack. “I guess you have to decide if you’re going to kick me out or go another round.” I faced him, my eyes wide, my breasts growing heavy at the idea of “another round” with the sexy man in my hallway. I trailed my eyes down his tempting bare chest and back up to his face. Another round sounded amazing. I was greeted with the unforgiving set of his lips as they formed the words, “Didn’t you find another condom when you were digging around in there?” He tipped his chin at his discarded wallet. “Um—” “I told you if we were going to be friends, we couldn’t lie to each other.” True. He had said that. I wondered if he’d tell me why he had so much money. Only one way to find out. “What are all the hundreds for? Do you cash your checks when you get them?” Or are you a drug dealer? He didn’t hesitate. “Not mine.” I blinked, wondering if he’d say more. Then he did. “It’s bet money.” Bet. That word again. I thought of his “friend” Travis and who owed him cash. “Do you bet often?” “I don’t bet ever. People lose bets and deliver the money to me. Sometimes they win and I deliver the payout to them.” His gaze was steady, his explanation unapologetic. “Sonny gets the rest.” “Sonny?” I asked. “Sonny,” he confirmed, as if that cleared everything up. I thought for a moment. And then guessed. “Is Sonny…like a bookie?” “Exactly like a bookie.” “Oh.” I digested this fact. “Isn’t being a bookie…illegal?” “Completely.” Completely. I tried to decide if I cared that my new boyfriend—er, hookup—was involved in “completely” illegal betting. I didn’t think I did care. What did that say about me? “So?” he asked after a few seconds had passed. I turned to find Devlin watching me with interest. I shook my head, asking a silent So, what? A grin split his talented mouth as he came to a conclusion on his own. “Yeah, probably

enough for one night for you, huh?” He stood from his position on the floor and I moved to follow. He offered his palm, which I took, then hugged me against him and locked his arms around my back. The move was unexpected, but it felt nice being held by him. My arms were pinned against my front, hands resting on his bare chest. I toyed with the dark hair there and gazed into his blue eyes, not wanting him to let me go. “We’ll save the other condom for next time, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. As he released me, he tugged on the hem of my shirt, let it go, then retrieved the remainder of his clothes from the floor. I watched as he pulled on his shirt, coat, and scarf, and headed for the door. Next time. My heart sank to my soles. I wanted a next time. I wanted a next time right now. But something told me my escalating pulse and the temptation to latch onto his arm would be met with resistance. I held myself in check. Before the door shut him outside in the cold, I spotted his wallet still on the floor. “Devlin, wait!” The door opened, and seeing him appear again levitated my entire being. Which was bad. So, so bad. I offered the wallet, and the thousands of untaxed hundred dollar bills within. He opened his palm and waited, forcing me to walk the rest of the way to deliver it without taking a single step to meet me. It said so much about this entire situation. How invested he was. How invested I was. Laying the wallet in his hand I asked, “Was that a test?” He smiled in response. A small one with a secret meaning I couldn’t quite read. Then he waved his wallet at me and walked out into the snow. Waved. No kiss. No goodbye. He left me alone, and wondering if this entire night had been some form of test.

Devlin “Hot damn!” The final score for the rivalry college football game flashed on the screen of my sixty-inch television: a cool 47 to 46. Paul had won by a point. One point. In overtime. It’d been almost too close for comfort, and I didn’t technically have anything on the line. Still, I’d been sweating it. I drained my beer down my throat as I stood up from the couch. Before I made it to the kitchen for another, my cell rang. Watching the television stadium’s fans pour onto the field, I shook my head with pride. Somewhere deep inside, I knew they’d win this one. Paul’s name flashed across my phone’s screen. I pressed Accept. “What did I tell you?” I answered. He replied with a loud whoop, followed by, “You did it, Dev!” “Yeah, we got this one.” Barely. But a win was a win. The take wasn’t much. I’d managed to double Paul’s money, but it wouldn’t get him completely out of debt with Tex. It would get him a good head start on a payment plan, however, and that made Paul no longer my problem. “It’s a great start, Dev. A great start. Once I reinvest—” Reinvest? Oh, hell no. “One and done.” I reminded him, my scalp prickling. “Five hundred goes straight to Sonny for your payment and the rest you arrange with Tex.” I heard a swallow, an audible gulp, and my hand curled around my phone tight enough to crack the plastic. Another warning bell rang in my head, different from the one I’d heard at Rena’s, but in the same foreboding tone. “Paul,” I started, really not wanting him to confirm what I already knew. “Did you bet again?” “Not exactly.” “Paul.” “Double or nothing,” he muttered. I swore as I paced my living room floor. “Still need your help, Dev.” I opened my mouth to say, Fuck no, but I couldn’t leave the man on his own to make a double-or-nothing bet his pathetic ass would lose. Didn’t he know that’s what Tex wanted? To get Paul even more in debt until he’d be bound to Tex permanently? I thought of what the pair of giants that worked me over would do if Paul couldn’t pay. Without my permission, my chest clenched when I thought of him getting hurt, or worse. Hurting himself. My dad had hurt himself after he’d determined he was so much in debt there was no feasible way out. A deep, dark part of me wondered if I thought saving Paul might balance out not being able to

save my dad. Maybe then I’d be whole instead of the broken mess I was now. Rena’s sweet face popped into my head and my stomach tossed. No. No fucking way was I trying to be “good enough” for the good girl. She was a preoccupation, a temporary friend. That was it. That was all. I couldn’t afford to go there. Yeah? Then why did you tell her there’d be a next time? Because I wanted her again. On the drive home from her apartment, I tried to push the desire away. Tried to convince myself my need for her was only physical. Didn’t work. I shut my eyes and dragged in a breath knowing it wouldn’t work now, either. Desire was complicated. I needed to keep things simple. I wanted her again. I’d have her again. But not without first making sure Rena understood the deal. She wasn’t special. For this to work, she couldn’t be. She had to be a friend who could come and go. A hookup. That’s all she was to me. I ignored the further clenching of my chest, suggesting I was full of shit. “I didn’t give him my bet yet for the next games,” Paul said, his voice small. “Games,” I repeated grimly. He was a junkie. He hadn’t been snorting coke or smoking meth, but he was an addict all the same. “I have to, Dev. It’s the only way.” “It’s not the only way. Pick up some overtime.” Did accountants have overtime? I had no clue. “Get a second job. Something.” “The only money I have left is Caden’s college money. I won’t ask him to leave Ridgeway U. because I owe some low-life bookie money! No offense.” I was too pissed to be offended. Silver-spoon-born Cade could use a hard knock or two and I couldn’t resist my next comment. “Going to an overpriced university isn’t at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs pyramid.” “The what?” “He’ll survive,” I said flatly. “And the car.” Now Paul was muttering to himself. “I can’t take away his Audi. I’m already behind on the payments and to be able to…God. Devlin. What if he finds out I gambled, that I lost my job, that—” “What?” This was the first I’d heard about job loss. “When?” A pause, then, “Eight months ago.” I tipped my head and studied the high ceiling of my apartment. Everything in this place, from the sleek TV to the furniture, to the rarely used dining room table and chairs, had been purchased with Sonny’s money. Money I made through Oak & Sage, sure, but it was tangled in an agreement—a promise—I’d made to him long ago. And tied with the bow of illegal gambling—the very thing that had killed my father. Money I’d earned from encouraging guys like Paul, who couldn’t turn off the need to go “double or nothing.” I knew I was going to help him. But Paul being saved had nothing to do with “saving” my father, I reminded myself solidly. Helping him was about evening the score for him doing me a solid when I was eighteen and had nowhere to live. He wasn’t my father. Saving him

wouldn’t bring my dad back. Nothing would. “What do you need me to do?” No tone. My voice had no tone. Paul’s, on the other hand, sounded like he’d just won the purse for betting on the underdog. “Advice. That’s it. The next game is—” “Stop. I’ll come over.” Doing this over the phone was making me twitchy. I wasn’t sure if I trusted him. But I owed him. If not for the time he’d allowed me to live in his house—with his wife and Cade, instead of tossing me out on my ass—then because I was partially responsible for keeping him on the path of unrighteousness. He was thanking me and I cut him off, hating the desperation in his voice. “Don’t do anything until I get there,” I said, then I hung up on him and palmed my keys.

Chapter 10

Rena Melinda sidled up next to me, her eyebrows pinched. “Most frustrating shift ever. Did you see that old guy at table nineteen? He actually refused to order. Refused. He literally said, ‘Pick a meal for me.’ So, I did, and then he complained about his surf and turf dinner! He didn’t like lobster. I felt like saying…” I tuned her out, sorting my own cash and receipts while servers bustled around the kitchen behind us. It was around nine, early by restaurant standards. Melinda and I had been the first in, so we’d been cut from the floor first. Devlin hadn’t worked tonight or the night before, leaving me at a loss for how to behave. I didn’t have his phone number or any other way to reach him, save for work. But then, I’d kind of gathered we weren’t really “seeing” each other, so I shouldn’t be thinking of texting him anyway. It didn’t stop me from scouring the Internet for a social media account under his name. He didn’t seem to be cataloging his life online like the rest of us, but part of me wished he did. I… well, I missed him. It’s like I’d gone crazy. I turned in my cash to Chet, who was managing the floor tonight. He swept into the office ahead of me. “Have your tables checked for cleanliness,” he said in his ever-present lisp, “and then you can go.” I nodded the affirmative while he settled into a chair in the small office. The memory of how Devlin had my pants halfway down my legs in a matter of seconds swamped me as I backed into the kitchen. Everything made me think of him. Of that moment…or the other night in my apartment. I thought of him whenever I walked through my hallway. Or glanced into the hallway. Or just thought the word “hallway.” The back door leading to the outside swung open, letting in the bitter, icy air. I bristled. Miguel, one of the prep guys, lumbered in, an empty trashcan in his hand. I stepped out of the way. A moment later, I heard the back door open again and a few seconds later felt strong fingers wrap around my upper arm. I spun around, startled. Devlin tugged me close, his face calm, his eyes blazing. Oh, he looked good. Cheeks red and cold-bitten, lips rimmed in the slightest shadow of stubble. His black leather jacket and scarf were the same as the night he’d come to my house, but his jeans were black instead of faded blue. “You off?” he asked. Completely off, now that he’d shown up. “Yeah. Yes. I mean, I am.” Wow. How did he do this to me? Every time. English was my native language, and I spoke clearly and concisely until I was in front of him, then nothing but single-syllable words came out of my mouth.

“Rena, you’re balanced,” Chet said, dismissing me. “Dev, what’s up?” “I need to talk to Rena about the schedule next week. You done in there? We need a few.” His tone was casual, but my heart dropped into my stomach. Then between my thighs. At least that’s what I thought it was. Something was pounding down there. “I’m not making another cut for an hour.” Chet flipped his keys against his palm and flicked a glance from Devlin to me. He left the door open. “Take your time.” He walked off, and Devlin gestured for me to go ahead of him. I did, knowing his eyes were on my body the entire way, anticipating being alone with him again after not seeing or hearing from him for two days. He shut the door and dropped into the swivel chair, wasting no time clutching my thighs with his palms and pulling me close…so close that my breasts were practically lined up with his mouth. I tried to calm my thundering heart. And failed. He grinned up at me, looking delicious and dangerous. His bruises had faded somewhat and, under the bright office lights, looked yellow and green. “Lose the apron, sweetheart.” I reached behind my back to untie my apron. My shaking fingers gave away my excitement. What comes next? Me, I hoped. He undid the button on my pants and I sent a nervous gaze to the door over my shoulder. “Lock it,” he said. I pushed the button on the knob, the click twice as loud as the hum of the ancient computer on the desk, and my pulse pounding in my eardrums. Since the door was a few inches from where I stood, I also shut the blinds. The zipper on my black work pants slid free, and I looked down to see Devlin arch an eyebrow in approval. I’d worn red silk panties. I didn’t know what possessed me…other than the hope I’d see him tonight. I wanted to be prepared. Since I owned only the most utilitarian of undergarments, I had to buy these, and a few other pair. Never in my life had I bought underwear for a boy. I could see his approval in the heat in his eyes. “Is this why you came in tonight?” I sucked in a breath as he kissed the skin just under my belly button. “No.” He licked a slow, wet circle around it and dipped his tongue past the waistband of my panties while I clutched his hair for dear life. Oh God, his hair. I’d grabbed a handful of it from behind the other night, but this was so much better. I could see it—dark, wavy, and disheveled. Could feel how cold he was from being outside. He slid off the chair, kneeling in front of me and my heart rate shot through the roof. Hands wrapped around my panties, he yanked them down and took a long look at me before leaning close. “After I saw you”—I felt his breath on my most intimate part, then he slicked his tongue against me and I moaned—“I decided to grab a bite to eat while I was here.” I started to laugh, but the sound turned into a low sigh when he went to work licking and suckling. He palmed my ass at the same time he dragged down my panties, tugging me closer to his ravishing mouth. My knees started to give. I fisted his hair and tugged, my stifled whimpers snagging in my throat as he buried his tongue into me over and over.

I was so close. So, so close…“Dev—” A knock at the door made me jump, but he tightened his hold on my hips and went to work on the tiny bundle of nerves between my legs. That tiny bundle pounding in response to his every move. I pushed his head away, but he remained planted, reaching up to squeeze my nipple through my shirt and bra. I jerked as pleasure jolted through my entire body, and sucked a breath through my teeth. The knock sounded again, and he paused briefly to yell, “Occupied!” “Maybe we should—” But my whispered words were cut off when he licked me again. “Concentrate, Rena.” He cupped my butt and gazed up at me, at my service on his knees. He licked his damp lips. “We’re not leaving this room until you come.” No problem. I nearly did right then. This time when he put his mouth on me, he slipped his fingers into my tight entrance as well. His tongue danced over the most sensitive part of me and I moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders. I rose to my tiptoes to make sure he had the best access, and when he inserted another finger and increased the pressure on my clit, I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. My orgasm left me bent in half, shuddering, holding onto his shoulders for support. When I finally straightened, he placed a kiss on my stomach, one on each hip bone, then pulled up my panties and pants, too. I stood over him, eyes closed, my entire body tingling and, hell, probably glowing like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. He rested his chin on my stomach, just above my unbuttoned pants, and looked up at me, his blue eyes as transparent as I’d ever seen them. “Thanks, baby,” he mumbled. So shocked by his words—the “baby” endearment more than the other—I barked a sharp laugh. “Don’t you think I should be thanking you?” His eyes narrowed. “You owe me more than a thank-you.” Ah, there was my dark angel. My lips curved, liking the sound of “more.” He pushed himself from the floor and reclaimed the chair. “I’d be happy to reciprocate,” I said, not one hundred percent sure where my brazen words had come from. I would, though. I’d gladly take him into my mouth, have him under my control the way he’d had me under his. I loved the idea of Devlin under my control. “Oh, you will.” He patted his legs. Obediently, I sat and practically melted into him. “What were we supposed to talk about?” He sifted a few stray hairs behind my ear, the act almost sweet. I blinked at him demurely, feeling treasured while he held me close, his fingers in my hair. Caught up in this, and the words Thanks, baby still rolling around in my head, I had to think for a minute about his question. Finally I answered him. With a question. “Schedule?” “Yes.” I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to continue. “You’re going to pick up a shift tomorrow.” Tomorrow was Sunday. I had a non-date with my mom’s boyfriend’s nephew. It seemed so wrong. Especially after what just happened. I didn’t know what to think. Devlin wasn’t my

boyfriend. I had no claim on him. For all I knew, he could do this with a different girl every night of the week. My stomach soured at the thought, but I didn’t want to ask. Because if the answer was yes, and it very well could be, I didn’t want to know. “I…can’t,” I said. “I have a family dinner.” He studied me while I rearranged his longish hair and tried not to picture another girl’s mouth on his body. I loved his hair. Glossy black, soft, and thick. “With?” he asked. “The guy my mom’s dating, and his nephew.” Dev nodded, and I wonder if he thought “nephew” was synonymous with “ten-year-old.” I didn’t even know if he’d be jealous if he knew the truth. There was no reason for him to be jealous. I had as much interest in Barney as I had in poking myself in the eye with a fork. None. My masochism only extended to the man on whose lap I sat. “After dinner, then,” he said. “But won’t that be too late to have a section?” “No section.” He fiddled with the ends of my ponytail. “I need you to pick up an envelope for me.” My fingers froze in his hair. Was this why he’d come in here and brought me to orgasm with his mouth? To use me to run one of his bookie errands? I pulled my hands away and started to stand but he tightened his arm around my waist, keeping me on his lap. “Rena.” I knew this was why he’d seduced me. Why he’d turned me inside out with his talented mouth. Why he was snuggling me now. Devlin didn’t snuggle. Yet here I sat, in his lap, held in his arms. My face must have betrayed my thoughts. “Sunday has nothing to do with now,” he said. “Oh, you weren’t trying to convince me to say yes?” His lips tipped into a tempting curve. “I was trying to make you scream my name.” I liked that so much, my hand returned to his hair automatically. I refused to give him the benefit of seeing my flattered expression, so I looked past him. But seriously…that might have been the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me. “Sadly, we’ll have to try again later,” he said, “because it didn’t work.” I faced him and his eyebrows gave a quick lift. Damn. He was good. Only he wasn’t. There was nothing good about him. This time when I stood he stood with me. “Tomorrow?” He tipped my chin and waited. I blew out a breath of defeat. I’d do anything he asked. No sense in denying it. “Tomorrow,” I confirmed. He left the office first, walking to the back door and into the parking lot. By the time it slammed shut behind him and I’d fetched my things from the storeroom, I realized Devlin had once again left me without a kiss goodbye. Without a kiss above the waist at all. —

Mom’s kitchen smelled like pie, which might be a good thing if she could bake something other than scones. To date, she’d failed at every attempt at pie over the course of my lifetime. It didn’t stop her from trying, which, I guess, was kind of admirable. “Apple?” I guessed as I hung my coat in the hall closet. “Rhubarb!” she called, bent over the oven. I cringed. I had no idea what rhubarb was or why she’d attempted to put it into pastry. “Oh.” She stood, sliding the pie onto the stovetop. She wore the apron I bought her for Christmas, the one with a cartoon bottle of wine that read: I POUR BETTER THAN I COOK. We both frowned at the sunken layer of dough. “It’s raw in the middle,” she announced with a quirk of her lips. Yet the edges were black. Amazing. Maybe instead of being a horrible baker, she was an incredible baker, because I had no idea how she could mess up pie one hundred percent of the time. “Do you think I should call Roy and ask him to pick one up from Kenzie’s Bakery?” Yes, I thought. But instead, I said, “Um, I probably won’t stay for dessert. I have to go into work after all.” Her face fell. “Rena!” “I’m staying for dinner.” I held up my palms. “My boss said I had to come in…” Or else, he’d stop inflicting me with orgasms. I managed not to smile. Barely. My gosh. I was shameless. “You have to stay for dessert. Don’t make Barney and Roy eat this by themselves.” Our gazes strayed to the puffy, burned-on-the-outside, pale-on-the-inside pastry before us. “Um. Okay.” I sort of resented my mother right then for making me have a pseudo-date with someone “appropriate.” Maybe because I wanted Devlin instead, who was most certainly inappropriate for me. Which made him the one who should be resented, and not my mother at all. Sigh. I set the table and my mother placed the questionably cooked pie next to a casserole dish. She typically played it safe with dinner. There were what appeared to be potatoes and cheese under the glass dome. She came in with a plate of sliced ham—thankfully baked by the grocery so all she’d had to do was heat it in the oven—then snapped her fingers. “I forgot to make the green beans! Shoot.” She ran for the freezer, announcing, “They’ll only take six minutes in the microwave.” I heard the front door pop open and Roy’s voice sound through the hallway. Which made me think of my hallway and blush furiously. Would nothing get my mind off Devlin? I lifted my water glass from the already set table and downed half of it. “Did you hear us comin’?” I heard Roy ask. “Barney roared in next to me in that hot rod of his like he was revving up for the Indy Five Hundred.” “Uncle Roy, do not start that.” The new voice was deep, male, and filled with humor. Roy’s nephew addressed my mom next. “Ms. Lewis.” “So wonderful to meet you, Barney.”

Roy laughed. I heard Barney let out an audible sigh. I peeked around the corner but only saw the backs of their heads—Roy’s taller, graying one and Barney’s reddish-blond. “It’s Baron,” Barney said, turning slightly so I saw his profile. “Uncle Roy’s been teasing me and calling me Barney—as in Fife from Andy Griffith—since I joined the force two years ago.” He shot an elbow into the ribs of his very tall, mustached uncle. “Still thinks it’s funny.” “It is!” Roy argued. I smiled. Baron seemed nice. Like a real family guy. “Oh, you!” Mom threw a hand at Roy and then turned toward where I leaned against the doorway. “He teased me this entire time,” she said to me with an eye roll. Her whole face lit. Roy made her really, really happy, which made me happy. Roy and Baron turned and followed Mom into the kitchen. My would-be suitor wore a nice button-down plaid shirt, his hair cut short and gelled into a simple style. Nothing like Devlin’s carelessly tousled, black mediumlength hair. Baron wasn’t as tall as Dev, but I noticed he had a firm, solid build. I pictured him in a uniform, and I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t a bad picture. Then I pictured Devlin naked and that picture was even better. Stop comparing the two of them. Baron smiled as he approached, shoulders back, confidence intact. He offered a hand. “You must be Rena. Nice to meet you.” I shook it, earning an amiable smile. No zings of warning, exciting or otherwise, shot through me, despite the warm clasp around my fingers. “You, uh, aren’t going to call me Barney, are you?” he asked with a teasing smile. His teeth were white and straight, his face not exactly rugged, but pleasant. I felt my mouth pull into a smile. “Cross my heart.” He made a relieved face, releasing me to pull the back of his hand over his brow for show. He was probably popular, or had been in high school. Came from a good, normal family. I tried to decide if he was attractive, lining his features up with Devlin’s. But that wasn’t fair. They weren’t the same at all. Baron was attractive in his own way. He had kind, tame blue eyes. Not the electric color of Devlin’s, but a washed-out blue that suited him, and met mine unerringly. Over dinner we talked about school, our hobbies, where we worked. Roy and Mom mostly chatted with each other since Baron and I were rapt in conversation. He was easy to talk with. I learned he had played soccer in school, but not to any high standard. “After about a year and a half with a science major—I was going to become a park ranger—I shifted to forensic science and focused on law enforcement instead,” he told me. “A park ranger.” “Not as hot as a cop, right?” He smiled a genuine smile, and I was learning every one of his smiles were genuine. “Damn straight,” Roy interrupted, before turning his attention back to his refilled plate. “But, like a park ranger,” Baron started, holding up a hand as his face cocked into a mock seriousness I found endearing, “I do get to blow a whistle really loud if I catch you skinnydipping in the pond.” He grinned at me, his flirting technique really, really effective. Potatoes went down the wrong way when I laughed, causing me to cough and sputter for a

full minute. Baron was half out of his chair despite my waving him off. He laughed when I laughed first. When tears streamed down my face, he used his napkin to mop the trail off my cheeks. “You were safe with me. I know the Heimlich.” A sly, but sweet smile crossed his lips as I accepted the napkin from him. “I hate what a lady-killer I am sometimes.” I straightened in my chair, returning his smile with a watery one of my own. Mom and Roy had begun clearing the table, leaving us alone. Intentionally? Likely. Roy’s nephew was definitely a catch. Cute and smart, and able to bring down criminals as well as wield an affable charm. Any girl would be glad to have his attention. Any girl who didn’t belong to the mysterious Devlin Calvary, a man who was involved in “completely illegal” gambling. My smile erased as I considered how opposite from the law Dev was from the two men at my mother’s dining room table. I eased back into my chair. I didn’t “belong” to Devlin, but I wanted to, I realized, suddenly scared of the bend of my thoughts. How had I gotten in so deep so fast? Especially when I knew, in Devlin’s mind, I was a good girl on loan until he ran out of errands for me, or until his face healed and he was back to working the front of the house. The thought made me melancholy. All through dessert, I picked at my rhubarb pie while Baron choked down every last miserable bite. In a rush of certainty from the pit of my stomach, I understood that Baron was a better, smarter, safer choice for a boyfriend than Devlin. Too bad I was done being safe.

Chapter 11

Rena Oak & Sage was hoppin’ for a Sunday night. I strode through the front door, wool coat collar popped, scratchy against my frigid cheeks. The weather had gotten colder since dinner at Mom’s house. Snow had coated the ground earlier, too, but at least the roads had been clear then. My tires slipped and slid all the way here. Inside, the lighting was soft, pale yellow, and glinting off the shining wood walls and dividers. Relieved I wasn’t on the clock, I nodded hello to Heidi, one of the hostesses, and cut through the bar on my way to the kitchen. Diners sat, glasses of wine in hand, and ordered around the bustling, harried staff. The back of house was a different world. Harsh, bright fluorescents glared overhead, servers rushed by, calling out orders to the kitchen staff. The sounds were not of tinkling silver but clanging pans and shouts of “on the fly!” Chet loaded plates onto a large oval tray and called for a runner, and I felt a small smile tickle my lips as I thought of Dev hauling me into his office for yelling at him. If he’d meant to reprimand me, his tactic had failed. Then I thought of last night, when he’d hauled me in there for a different reason. Worry niggled at me as I tried to understand why I’d shown up exactly like he asked. I wanted to believe I was helping out a friend who was hurt, but really, how puritanical was that? And how false? I was helping him because he’d gone down on me. And he went down on me so I would help him. I wished I could get to a point where I wasn’t okay with that transaction. I dodged the dishwasher, who swept by me with a net on his hair and a stack of clean plates. No sign of Devlin in the prep area, and the office door was closed, the window dark. I kept walking, past the maintenance closet—empty—and past the employee bathrooms—doors open and dark as well. Where is he? My steps slowed as I came to the storeroom and a familiar feminine giggle punctuated the air. Devlin’s low and almost…soothing voice came next. My ire shot to the moon. Fists balled at my sides, I stalked to the doorway to find Melinda, so tall she nearly stood eye-to-eye with Devlin, backed against a shelf and eyeing him like she might take a bite out of him at any moment. He wasn’t touching her, but he had a hand on the shelf next to her, leaning over her ear in what could only be described as an intimate position. Too intimate for my taste. I stepped into the storeroom, crossing my arms over my chest. Melinda’s gaze cut across the room at me, and she grinned in triumph, tapping two fingers against Devlin’s black Tshirt. I trailed my gaze down to his chef’s pants—black with white skulls—and back up. By the time I reached his face, I could see he was regarding me without an ounce of guilt. He didn’t even have the decency to move away from her.

“Ten seconds,” he told me, then he turned back to Melinda. Ten seconds, my ass. I left him to canoodle with the blond bitch I was now sure I hated, and stomped my way through the kitchen, pausing for not one but two prep guys leaving the walk-in fridge. When they dispersed, I reached the back door and pushed against the bar, only to encounter another employee crushing a cigarette underfoot. The same guy who yelled at me the day I had trouble with the touch screen. He went inside, brushing by me without a word. Jackass. Before I made my getaway, a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I knew who it was without looking. I jerked away from Devlin, who lifted a dark eyebrow. His expression didn’t hold enough remorse to suit me. Outside, it was freezing, and I realized—belatedly—I would have to walk around to the front of the building to get to my car. Too late to backtrack now. I’d made such a grand exit. Plus the frigid air was beginning to cool my temper, which admittedly, needed cooling. As much as I’d like to jump in my car and peel out, giving Devlin the finger while I was at it, the smarter move was to leave somewhat gracefully and not run my bumper into a telephone pole on the way home. Resigned to my journey, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and steeled myself for a long, cold walk. “I’m not chasing you, Rena,” came a calm voice from behind me. “Good!” I pulled my face out of my collar to shout. I didn’t want him to follow me. I fisted my hands in my pockets. Thinking I’d be inside more than out, I had left my gloves in the car. A moment later, Devlin jogged into sight, stood in front of me, and held up his palms. I intended to bypass him—until his hands clutched my arms. He tugged me to him, a small smile on his cocky mouth. “Thought you weren’t chasing me.” “Chasing you would mean I was behind you.” He leaned closer. “And we both know how much you like me behind you.” I tried to hate him, tried to not be turned on, but parts of me were not cooperating. I gave a silent, stern lecture to my hormones. Come on, we all need to be on the same page here. In front of me, Devlin’s arms shook, his bare arms puckering. “You’re cold,” I pointed out. His smarmy smile didn’t move an inch. “Aw, you do care.” “Screw you.” Palms tightened on my arms and his face pulled into a series of pleats. “Screw me,” he repeated, not really a question, but his eyes grew severe. He was pissed. Good. So was I. My voice shook the slightest bit when I spoke. “Let me go.” His eyes were hot enough to weld iron, but he released me. I continued walking, even though every cell in my body behaved as if it were magnetized to him. Dammit. That whole trying-to-hate-him thing really wasn’t working. I heard an engine turn over and looked ahead of me to the edge of the back parking lot. A black SUV was running, taillights lit. I paused, waiting for the vehicle to reverse. It didn’t move. Dev walked past me, key fob in hand, his exhaled breaths billowing like smoke over his

head. Right then I noticed though the darkened windows the SUV had no driver. Remote starter, I guessed. Arms rigid at his sides, Devlin climbed in and shut the door. I stood staring at the idling vehicle, deciding what to do next. I couldn’t get in the car with him after I’d caught him with his tongue practically down Melinda’s throat. Wind kicked the snow off the roof and into my hair and I shivered. I looked to my left—where the parking lot led around to the front of the building—and then to the SUV on my right. The interior light flicked on, then off. Seriously. I wasn’t really going to get in there with him, was I? Then again, why waste the fury broiling my hairline on a trek through the parking lot? Maybe Devlin would like to know about my date with Baron. Or maybe he wouldn’t care. But maybe…he would. An evil little smile curved my cold lips. Time to find out. I walked around to the passenger door and pulled, but the door handle sprang back, locked. After I heard the lock disengage with a click, I climbed inside, arranged myself in the seat, and shuddered from the cold that had chased me in. Dev’s hand appeared in my vision, adjusting the vent to blow the already-warmed air onto my lap. I refused to acknowledge that what he’d done was considerate. What he’d done was commonly decent, I reminded myself tartly. He didn’t deserve to be knighted. I heard him sigh and out of the corner of my eye saw him sag against his seat. I stared straight ahead. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. I wondered how long we’d sit here before one of us said something. I watched the green digital numbers change on the dashboard’s clock, resolved to stay silent. Six minutes passed. “Really?” I lifted and dropped my toasty hands into my lap. He turned his head to look at me, lifting his eyebrows. “She speaks.” “You’re the one with the burden of explanation.” I felt my forehead scrunch. Tired of waiting for that explanation, I added, “I guess this is what you do with all the girls at work?” He didn’t flinch. “Do you tie Melinda’s apron in the storeroom? Do you kiss Melinda in the freezer? Do you take off Melinda’s pants in the office?” At that last word, my voice cracked, because he hurt me. And I let him. I’d seen this coming from a mile away and ignored it. “I was on a date tonight,” I blurted, my voice wobbling. One of Devlin’s eyelids narrowed. “He’s the nephew I told you about. He’s twenty-six, a police officer.” Devlin’s other eye narrowed and I felt inordinately pleased. “He’s responsible. And nice. He ate my mom’s terrible pie and she loved him.” “Responsible.” That wasn’t the word I’d expected him to pull from my speech. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Finally. I’d affected him. “Yes.” I continued, pushing my luck. “I bet he pays his taxes. All of his taxes. And probably rarely, if ever, does anything illegal.”

“Clearly you don’t know the cops in this town,” he replied, both eyes still narrowed. “He flirted with me. He would treat me well. Like, he would probably open my car door instead of locking me out. He was polite. He listened without any agenda of his own.” “Everyone has an agenda.” Devlin sneered. “If he’s so great, what are you doing here?” I didn’t hesitate. “Some asshole I know seduced me into being his mule again. And I showed up, proving to be the bigger asshole, because I found him hypnotizing another girl with his beautiful blue eyes.” I shut my trap. Bit my tongue. I hadn’t meant to compliment him. He ignored both the insult and compliment, reaching an arm over my seat to brace his hand on my headrest. “What’s this cop’s name?” he asked, calm. Pissed he was so even-keeled, I rose my voice in challenge. “Why? Are you going to have him whacked?” Dev kept his intense gaze trained on me, silence his best friend. “His name is Baron,” I answered. “Does Baron make you feel the way I’m making you feel right now?” “Filled with rage? No, he doesn’t.” His expression stayed steady. “What’s under the rage, Rena?” I almost said “more rage,” but that wasn’t true. Tenderly, Devlin slid his fingers into my hair. I’d worn it down because he liked it that way. His fingertips massaged my scalp, his blue, blue eyes locked on mine. Want. Want was under the rage. He leaned over the console, cupping the back of my head in his palm. “Tell me what you feel.” I forced my thoughts on the memory of him with Melinda. If I blurted out the truth, I’d have to say “stupid,” because I felt like a grade-A jerk believing someone like Devlin could ever be mine and mine alone. It was like owning a star. I could see him, admire him, but never truly hold him in my hands. I wasn’t about to tell him that now. If ever. “I feel…at a disadvantage,” I covered. He flinched—barely—just a slight lift of his cheeks that crinkled the skin around his eyes, but I saw it. He was too close to hide from me, so close he didn’t have to raise his voice for me to hear him. “Melinda picked up the envelope,” he said. Was I so easy to replace? Oh hell no. “Why? Because I was five whole minutes late?” “Now you’re mad you didn’t pick up the envelope? I thought you didn’t want to be my— how did you put it?—‘Mule.’ ” I set my jaw, staying quiet. He had a point. I was getting increasingly angry at how much sense he was making. Keeping one hand in my hair, he traced my bottom lip with the index finger of his other hand. “Were you five minutes late because of your date with Baron?” I studied his expression and saw jealousy. Reveled in it. I said nothing. He sucked in a breath and blew it out of his nose, fanning the hair at my temple. “The guy

dropping off the money thought she was you. She said he addressed her as Rena then handed her an envelope and told her to give it to me.” I guess our names kind of sort of resembled each other. “By the time she tracked me down with seven thousand dollars…” “Seven thousand dollars?” I nearly choked. “You see my concern.” Not exactly. “So, you…what? Seduced Melinda into being quiet?” His finger left my lips and he tipped my chin. “Convinced. Not seduced.” “Convinced.” I practically spat the word. His hands slipped down my arms and tugged me toward him. My upper body went, but my butt stayed stubbornly in the seat. He raised his eyebrows and tugged again, wanting me to climb over to his side of the car. I gave up and went, uncrossing my arms and crawling over his legs. Once there, he lifted my knee and clasped my hip, moving me until I was settled on his lap. Straddling him, I had to hunker to keep from knocking my head on the ceiling. My hair fell over his face as I rested my hands on his shoulders. I attempted to insult him. “You smell like salad.” “You smell like Baron.” His eyes narrowed again. Impossible. Well, maybe it was possible. Baron had smelled of cologne, and he’d been drying my tears and patting my back while I choked on my mom’s potato-cheese hash. I wanted to bend my head and smell my clothes to verify, but I refrained. What did Devlin care? Was he jealous? And why did my stomach flutter with excitement at the thought? Rather than explain myself, I said, “Well, you smell like desperate blonde.” Looking slightly bemused, he reached for a lever on the side of the seat and leaned it back several inches. He pushed some of my hair away from my face and dropped his head onto the headrest. He was underneath me, holding my face in both palms. I braced myself on the seat instead of lying on top of him like I wanted to. “Feel more in control now?” he asked. I did. But I didn’t want to admit it. “Is that what this is about?” “That’s what it’s always about.” His fingers put pressure on the back of my head in an attempt to lower my lips to his. I resisted. “Rena.” I wanted to resist again. In my brain. But when his lips formed my name, I had no choice but to go to him, touch his mouth with mine, just a soft brush. I let my eyes close and enjoyed being near him. Then he pulled my head back, separating us, and the kiss was over. Too soon. Which made me angry again. So, I fisted his T-shirt and gave him a punishing kiss. Darting my tongue into his mouth, smashing his nose with mine, grinding my pelvis against his. He grunted, one hand tangling in my hair, the other tightening at my hip. He kissed me back, his rough, shaven face chafing my softer skin, but even then I didn’t back off.

I could have had safe, I reminded myself as I tasted him. I could’ve had nice. I could’ve had a guy on the right side of the law. I’d chosen my devastating and dangerous Devlin over Roy’s safe-and-sound nephew. I’d chosen to be with a man who thought it was okay to have sex with me one night and flirt with a different girl the next. I robbed Devlin of my kiss and watched as his chest rose and fell in heaving breaths. I’d put the heat in his eyes. Me. Not Melinda. I clutched his hair and pulled his head back against the seat rest. His jaw ticked, but he didn’t wince. In fact, he looked pleased. “She touched you,” I said, my voice a low warning. His eyebrows pinched. “She did?” I placed two fingers on his T-shirt where Melinda had tapped him when I caught them in the storeroom. “Here.” He looked down at my poking fingers. “I didn’t notice.” Reaching for the hem of his shirt, I bared his chest, knowing he’d be cold, despite the heated car, and not caring. “I noticed,” I said. He let me haul his shirt up to his neck and I bent to put my open mouth on the spot over his left pectoral. It was a soft, wet kiss that only made me want to taste more of him. His hand cupped the back of my head to hold me against him. I straightened away from his beautiful body, all that defined muscle, and ignored my own craving to explore the rest of him with my mouth. Desire flooded his eyes, the blue darker, his lashes drawn low and shadowing his cheeks. His hands closed over my hips. “That’s my punishment?” Half his mouth slid into a smirk. “No.” I shook my head. “That’s all I’m going to do to you. That’s your punishment.” I crawled off his lap—he cupped his balls to protect himself from my knees—and settled once again into the passenger seat. Then I regarded him with an expression I hoped looked bored. Or at least unaffected. In reality, my heart pounded like a kettledrum. With half his shirt off, slumped against the driver’s seat, Devlin looked a little unhappy and a whole lot dangerous. I wondered if I’d pushed him too far. I wondered if I cared. I told myself I didn’t, but I did care. How far could I push him before he walked away from me for good? I’d hate to find out, but I wouldn’t let him have the upper hand. He drew his shirt down over his chest, and in one quick movement turned off the ignition and got out of his SUV. The door shut behind him, wobbling the entire vehicle. I sat there for the length of one breath before I gave up and got out too, deciding I’d go to my car after all and leave him to sulk. The moment my feet hit the snow-covered pavement, I heard Melinda’s voice, and my body went rigid. I was out of sight, having stopped short of rounding the back of his vehicle, but ventured a peek around the side. Dev stood at the rear of his car and Melinda by the garbage bin, lit cigarette in hand, her coat open. “Hey, handsome,” she called, obviously unaware of my presence. “You look cold.” “I’m not,” Devlin called back. He dragged me out of my hiding place and pushed me up against the back of his car. Hands on either side of my face, he leaned over me and whispered, “Grab my ass.” I blinked. “You want me to…”

He smiled down at me. That’s all it took. I reached behind him and palmed his firm butt, thrilling at what Melinda must be seeing. His hands in my hair, his body pressed against me. My hands claiming him. Mine. He closed his lips over mine, hauling one of my legs up and over his hip as he did. The cold air between our warm lips chilled me, but I continued kissing him, feeling every part of my body vibrate in response to the way he touched me. His hand slid up my thigh and cupped my bottom, running his fingers along the inseam of my pants. I forgot we had an audience at all. He ended our lip lock panting, his breath visible, nose and cheeks red. I rubbed my hands over his muscular arms. He was freezing. “You look like you did the night you showed up on my doorstep.” I stroked his eyebrow with the tip of one finger. It had mostly healed, but he’d have a scar there. I doubted the hair would ever grow back completely. “Only more in control.” He kissed me again, briefly, then against my lips, said, “Trust me, baby. I’m less in control now.” His entire body shook. From the cold? Or because of his admission? I wanted to believe the latter.

Chapter 12

Devlin What’d I’d done was impulsive, some sort of gut instinct I wasn’t sure I could trust. Face it, I wasn’t the type of guy to protect anyone. But Rena awakened something in me. The way I’d pulled her onto my lap in my SUV. The way I’d let her dominate me. She’d kissed my chest but left me wanting more. I prided myself in being able to walk away from girls. Melinda, for example, who I could tell, by the angle of her eyebrows, did not appreciate my making out with Rena. I’d struck a careful balance with Melinda in the storeroom moments before. Why had I let Rena claim me in front of her? Because Rena needed it, came the automatic answer. And because I got her into this mess, part of my psyche added. Great. I’d sprouted a fucking conscience. Normally, my only worries would revolve around what she’d say to someone else or the trouble she could cause for Sonny and me. But my concern now revolved around the cute brunette who pouted in my passenger seat. I’d gotten her into this, and really, her being my “mule” wasn’t as far off the mark as I would have liked. I winced. I didn’t like feeling doubt. Not even a little. I blew by Melinda, who was giving me the evil eye from across the kitchen. Let her be pissed. I didn’t really give a shit. What I cared about, I realized as an uncomfortable chill skated down my spine, was Rena. “Remember when you used to be smart?” I muttered to myself as I unlocked the office. What good had ever come from attachment? Save for Sonny, who, let’s be honest, could turn on me for a dime at any moment. I spun the dial on the safe and pulled out my wallet and stuffed it into my pocket. Had I had it with me in the car, with access to the protection jammed into the inside flap, I’d have taken Rena right there on my seat. Despite her promise to “punish me” by stopping, I could have had her undressed and riding me. That she would have let me go further made me smile. She wanted me still. You want her, too. My smile erased. I did. She made me not think things through. Seeing the hurt on her face when she caught me in the storeroom made me chase after her and abandon Melinda, who in all reality could get me arrested. Could collapse the careful balance existing between Sonny and me. And for what? The thrill of pressing Rena’s sweet body against the SUV and claiming her as mine. But that was more than just thrill. That was need and I was drowning in it. Whenever she was around it became harder and harder for me to hold on to my resolve. I told myself I was the one with the control, but when she was close, when she smashed her soft breasts against me and her voice tumbled through my brain…

Man. I forgot about control. Forgot about the rules. All I wanted to hear was the hitch in her breath as she moaned my name. Because I wanted her to claim me. Shutting myself out of the office, I trailed my gaze over to Melinda, who sent me a sharp look before disappearing into the walk-in. I could go to her now, wedge myself into her good graces. It wouldn’t be hard. She had been coming on to me for months. I’d resisted her because I had a rule about not bedding the staff, but also because she was cocky in a way that rubbed me, and not in the fun way. Now I resisted for a different reason. Before I’d met Rena, I wouldn’t have hesitated to go to Melinda, insert her firmly into the “circle of trust” again. Muddle her mind with a few kisses and the promise of more later. I pulled my coat on and headed for the back door, my movements jerky. Angry. I didn’t want Melinda. I never had. I wanted only one girl: Rena. Which made my skin itch, because it was rare for good to ever come of attachment. And there was zero good to come out of her getting attached to me. Stay away from her, my newly formed conscience suggested. I mentally gagged it and stuffed it into a trunk. I could stay away but I didn’t want to. I could protect her from my actions. My inner white knight puffed his chest at the idea of being hers. Which was fucking ridiculous. But it put a smile on my face nonetheless. — Paul wouldn’t have let me in if I hadn’t surprised him, which was exactly why I hadn’t called. I waited until Tuesday to see him, when all three games I’d helped him bet on (the “last” ones, he’d told me—sure, okay) were done. He’d won a chunk of change. I wanted to make sure he paid Sonny before Sonny started sniffing around and learned that Paul was not out of town but very much in town. And very much rerouting Sonny’s payout to Tex. Paul let me in, walked to the living room, and sat on his couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and studied the laptop screen. On it, a spreadsheet listing the bets—and man, there were a lot of bets—and the takes and losses for each one. “You keep a spreadsheet,” I said in disbelief. Everyone knew you shouldn’t keep a trail of proof for your illegal gambling. “It says Fantasy Bets.” He pointed at the large title at the top of the page. I pulled my palms over my face. This guy never used to be so careless. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, closing the laptop and standing. “As soon as Tex and I are square, I’m dumping the computer. I’ll…I’ll burn it. I’ll run it over with the car.” Hands frozen in prayer pose over my lips, I watched him dumbfounded for a moment before saying, “And Sonny.” “What?” “As soon as you and Tex and Sonny are square.”

He offered a twitchy shrug. “Of course.” “Five hundred before I leave. Don’t make me call Nat.” I stood over him, using my height to my advantage. His smile shook. He knew Nat. All three hundred pounds of him. “Dev—” “No more free passes, Paul.” I inserted an edge into my voice. I wasn’t yelling; I didn’t need to. One step closer to him had him lifting his palms in defense. “Five hundred in the next sixty seconds,” I said, “or I leave, tell Sonny what really happened to my face, and return for a thousand.” “A thousand! Now listen—” “No, you listen!” I stuck a finger in his face. “Don’t even think of trying to pull this bullshit again. You know as well as I do—” “What the fuck, Devlin?” I snapped my head to the side to see Paul’s son, Caden, barreling through the house, a gym bag over one shoulder. He didn’t slow when he saw me, practically dropping the bag on my shoes. “Cade,” Paul said. “Everything’s fine.” Cade narrowed his eyes at me, pushing his arms out to the side to make himself look bigger. “Like hell,” he told Paul but kept his eyes on me. “After all we’ve done for you, Dev, you threaten my dad?” He shoved two strong hands against my chest. I balled my fists at my sides to keep from tussling with him. He was two years younger than I was—not a kid by any stretch of the imagination—but out of respect for Paul, I didn’t want to hit him. He was also about my size, and I knew we’d go a few rounds before I finally kicked his ass. I didn’t care to spend any more time in the back of my restaurant than I had to. If he got a hit or two in and busted up my face, and I had to admit, that was a possibility, I’d be stuck in that kitchen. Control, I said to myself. Beating the shit out of Paul’s bratty son wouldn’t serve me in the long run. I had to focus on the goal: Sonny’s cash. “After the life we provided you?” Cade continued indignantly. “We?” I sniffed. “Like you were footing any of those bills and not draining your father’s savings yourself?” “Boys…” Paul warned. I ignored him. Cade didn’t. “No, Dad.” Cade pushed me again. I held my ground. “Devlin owes you for letting him off the hook back when he stole Mom’s jewelry.” I ground my teeth together. Every part of me wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. Because it was true. I’d taken a necklace and three rings and gambled them. I was able to win back one of the rings, but the others were lost in a risky all-or-nothing. “Cade, this isn’t about that,” Paul said. “Bullshit it’s not.” Cade stood almost nose to nose with me, dark brown hair falling over his light brown eyes—eyes that almost burned orange they were so filled with fury. I understood. If he’d been the one who’d ripped off my mom, I’d have beaten the hell out of him a long time ago. But my mom had taken off when I was a toddler. Who knew where she was now?

“How much do you think her jewelry was worth, Dev?” Cade asked, too close. My fists tightened. “How much do you think you not living on the street was worth, Dev?” He shoved me a third time and I jerked my shoulders forward, straightening my jacket. “Do it again, kid, and I won’t hold back.” From behind him, Paul called our names again. Cade didn’t heed his father’s warning, and I’d stopped listening years ago. By the time Cade lifted his hands to shove me again, I dodged to the side, palmed the back of his neck, and slammed his face against the living room wall. Family pictures rattled. Paul’s voice—saying my name—rose in warning. Cade squirmed, swearing at me at the same time. I let him turn around but pushed my forearm against his windpipe to keep him still. “This isn’t your fight,” I said. Wisely, he stilled. But he was pissed, teeth bared, eyes wild. If I let him loose, he’d clock me. I could feel his entire body humming like a downed power line. “The money,” I called over my shoulder to Paul. “And I’ll leave.” “You’ve been taking advantage of him for years,” Cade squeaked out. “Devlin, please. I’ll get it.” Paul sounded near tears. “All of it. Two thousand for Sonny, and then I’m gone for good.” Paul appeared at my side. “Five hundred.” Cade’s eyes strayed to Paul. “Dad!” I shrugged with my mouth and studied Cade. “Looks like Dad’s bartering for you. Not a good sign.” “You bast—” I cut his words short by tightening my arm over his neck and watched his eyes widen. Paul reached for my arm. I sent him a glare. “Tell him the truth, Paul, or I’ll give him brain damage, I swear it.” Cade’s bulging eyes darted to his father. I loosened my hold so he’d stay conscious long enough to hear the confession. I already knew, but I’d bet he didn’t. Paul didn’t want his son to know. “Paul…” I warned, wedging my knee into Cade’s thigh. He grunted, pained, and Paul’s face paled. “I haven’t dipped into Cade’s money yet,” Paul said. “My money?” Cade croaked. Paul fell silent. “Dad?” “I can pay Devlin the two grand, but if…” His eyes cut to me, then Cade. He pointed at me in accusation. “If I do, I can’t pay for the Audi this month.” Cade looked betrayed. “Poor boy. No more free ride,” I bit out. Over it, I drew back and socked him in the stomach. He oofed and tried to kick me. Paul scrambled for my arm and I elbowed him, catching the underside of his chin. He rolled to the ground, moaning and holding his hands over his face. “Don’t hurt him!” Cade yelled at me.

“You have five seconds, Paul,” I said, my arm again on Cade’s throat. “Then I cut off his air supply.” “Hang on, hang on!” Paul, lying on his back on the floor, reached out an arm. His lip was bleeding. I’d gotten him good. “The truth!” I shouted. “Okay! Okay! I’m behind on your car payment two months!” He swallowed thickly and I felt Cade stop fighting. “I borrowed from your college fund to bet on the last game.” Cade’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Paul with nothing short of betrayal. With his attention on his father, I let him go. He held his stomach—where I’d hit him—absently, like he didn’t know he was doing it. His face twisted into an expression of disgust, but he was focused on one man in the room. And that man wasn’t me. I raised a smug brow at Paul. Because pride always came before the fall, I didn’t know Cade had thrown a punch until his fist collided with my kidney. I crashed to one knee and gasped for breath, internally pooling my strength before I killed Caden Wilson with my bare hands. But as I stood and started to lunge, I heard five words that stopped me cold. Five words I was sure I’d hallucinated. Paul, shouting, “Devlin, don’t hurt your brother!”

Chapter 13

Devlin Oak & Sage was in the wind-down of a Wednesday night. I sat at the bar, slipped my new-hire bartender Matt a hundred dollars, and ordered him to leave the bottle of bourbon unattended. That was an hour ago. Not the best plan as far as plans went, but Wednesday nights were always dead, so it wasn’t like there was anyone here to set an example for. I didn’t get the money from Paul, but I did get a call from Sonny, which I ignored. Then I got one from Nat, likely asking where Paul was so he could rough him up. I didn’t answer. I responded by snapping my phone in half and tossing it into the glass of water Matt brought that I hadn’t ordered. I silently thanked God for bourbon and drank down a swallow. I’d left Caden Wilson as confused and angry as I was. After hearing we were related— literally; Paul hadn’t meant in the theoretical sense that we’d shared a house together and he was a father figure to me—Cade leapt on Paul and got in a few good hits. I had to pull him off and toss him onto the floor, despite the temptation to leave Cade swinging and let him kick the crap out of his old man. His old man, not mine. We were brothers not by a shared father, but by a shared mother. “How could you do that to Mom?” Cade had yelled at Paul. I watched his eyes dawn with realization as he put two and two together and realized that Joyce, the woman who had raised Cade, the woman whose jewelry I’d swiped, was not, in fact, his actual mother. I could also see in his eyes that he wanted to pull me into it, maybe accuse my mom of being a whore who slept with his dad. But he couldn’t. Because my mom was now his mom. And Joyce was just the woman who had taken care of him. I hadn’t stayed for a family powwow afterward. I had no family. My father was dead and gone. My mom had split when I was really small, having slunk off to hide her pregnancy and resurface again only to leave Cade with Paul. Technically, my only living family was Cade, the spoiled brat college kid with whom I shared a mother. Cade. My half brother. God. I couldn’t get my head all the way around that. Why Joyce put up with that shit from Paul, and then raised a baby that wasn’t her own as her own was anyone’s guess. I didn’t get it. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Cade was living in the bottle tonight—in similar fashion to me—trying to figure out why as well. I downed the final inch of bourbon, and though I was tempted to smash the empty glass on the floor of the bar just to hear the break, I refilled it instead. Mom had left us when she’d gotten pregnant with Cade, but I found myself wondering if she and Paul had carried on behind Dad’s and Joyce’s backs before then. I followed my thoughts to the photo album my father kept in his closet. I used to dig it out every once in a while when he was out on a bender. I didn’t know what became of that album, but I could picture it now, clear as if it was open on the bar in front of me. Cellophane-covered, yellowed, sticky pages holding photos faded

with age. My father and mother clutched each other in a few of the photos, and in others were alone but smiling. Mom in hideous, high-waisted jeans, sweeping the floor of the restaurant I sat in now—when it’d been just a shell and the fancy wooden booths were only metal tables and chairs. And Dad, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he washed a giant stockpot in the back. My parents had bought and refurbished this restaurant, had poured blood, sweat, and tears into it. The album documented up until I was born and then stopped, but throughout, my parents looked happy. What happened? What had eroded away at them? What had driven Mom to sleep with Paul, and Dad to gamble hard-core? Which came first—the adultery or the gambling? I flipped a cardboard coaster end over end, coming to a conclusion. At no point had my parents planned on purchasing a restaurant and then letting everything—including each other and me—go to shit. Whether it was the bourbon or…no, it was definitely the bourbon, I thought as I took another drink. I was now thinking of what I wanted. Of how I’d lived. Of what I was involved in. The same life-draining business that propelled my father into an icy river and had me treating Rena like a mule. All because my face had been busted up by a pair of rival bookie’s bodyguards. Maybe I deserved a shot at a life of my own. What my father tried to have before he chucked everything aside. Maybe Sonny wasn’t as integral a part of my future as I’d once assumed. These thoughts were awfully mature for my taste…and indirectly connected to Rena. That’s probably why I scowled as I lifted my glass to my mouth again. I caught a glimpse of Melinda in the server’s well, sticking fruit into whatever concoction Matt had just shaken and poured into a martini glass for one of her tables. “Hard night?” she asked, spearing a chunk of pineapple on a small plastic pick shaped like a sword. Her lips curled into a flirtatious smile. “Girl trouble?” I glared at her. Seriously? She was coming on to me? “Desperation isn’t flattering,” I grumbled, drinking. She tipped her head, but instead of passing by she stopped in front of me. My eyes went to the very full glass in her hand, liquid wobbling close to the edge. Somehow, I related. “What happens when she falls for you, Devlin? Because she will. She’ll blurt out that she loves you and then you’ll suffocate. You’ll have to move away. Change your name.” I sipped my drink, keeping my face utterly expressionless. Was she for real? I could see she was by the grave set of her mouth. But Melinda didn’t know me. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Then she walked away and an evil voice at the back of my alcohol-soaked brain asked a pertinent question. Then why is she right?

Rena My wrist throbbed and I massaged it before lifting the dinners for my last table. Wednesdays were slow, so to make up for fewer tips I worked a double. Going on twelve hours running around this place, with only one ten-minute break to gobble down dinner, I was about ready to collapse. Days like this, I missed the lazy hours I used to spend at Craft Palace stocking paintbrushes and scrap paper and listening to canned music over the ceiling speakers. “Grilled salmon with vegetables and medium-rare filet with smashed potatoes,” I announced as I presented the couple at table 20 with their plates. “Anything else I can get you?” The woman at the table gave me a polite “no, thank you.” Her blond ponytail was stylish with a little bump in the front I never seemed able to do, and she was wearing a cute blazer over a clingy top, and a gold chain with a heart pendant. Her husband (I assumed) wore khakis and a collared plaid shirt, and there was nothing dangerous or daring in his kind eyes or approachable smile. “We have a movie to catch,” the husband informed me. “If you want to bring the check now, that’d be good.” “No problem,” I answered. I let them know to flag me if they needed anything else, then walked away, musing that they could be me and my husband in ten years if I found someone safe to settle down with. This filled me with melancholy, longing, and, at the same time, disdain. It was an odd combination. In the kitchen, I met Melinda at the touch screen computer. Her face was screwed into a hard scowl and she spat, “Your boyfriend’s at the bar getting hammered.” My heart skipped one beat. I felt it. There was only one man she could mean, and it took everything I had not to dart for the front of the restaurant and see if Devlin was really here. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I pretended nonchalance and studied my order book while I waited for the computer to be free. Melinda turned toward me, and I looked up to find her eyes blazing. She propped a hand on her hip and glowered down at me from her Amazonian height. “You think you’ll really succeed in tying down a guy like Devlin?” Her voice was low, but I shot a perfunctory look around the kitchen anyway to be sure no one heard. Since it was ten at night, and a slow shift, most of the servers had been cut, so it was relatively quiet in the kitchen. “He may sleep with you, but he won’t stay with you.” Spoken like someone who had or hadn’t tasted the sour grapes? I didn’t want to know. “I’m not—” “Everyone knows, Rena.” She said this as if I was foolish and didn’t understand what I was getting into. Which pissed me off. I hated being underestimated. “Everyone sees the way he’s pulling you in,” she continued in an annoying tone. “Using you. Everyone sees it but you.” Not true. I’d seen his face in the SUV—the reverent way he looked at me despite his cocky

smile. Then he kissed me right in front of Melinda. And he was here now. To see me? I hated how eager the question sounded, even in the privacy of my own mind. “Done?” I gestured to the touch screen. Angry that I didn’t take the bait and defend myself, Melinda clipped away from me, her blond ponytail swinging. I forced myself to wait another twenty minutes until I cashed out my table, before I ventured to the bar. I didn’t want to appear overeager. To Melinda or to Devlin. Assuming he was there. I tried to catch a glance at the front corner of the restaurant, but I was on the opposite side of the building. With no real reason to walk over there (other than to see him), I hadn’t yet laid eyes on him. Part of me worried he’d left. Another part of me worried about the part of me worrying. Melinda’s bitter words of love lost, or maybe love never found, echoed in my head. Much as I wanted to believe they were born of jealousy because I had something she wanted, I couldn’t be sure. The idea of Devlin any closer to her than I’d witnessed in the storeroom made not only my heart ache but my entire chest feel as if it was caving in. After the couple vacated to catch their late movie, I walked to the bar, spotting Devlin immediately. He was hunched over a barstool, black boots hooked on the lower rung, powerful arms bent, elbows resting on the edge of the wooden bar top. A glass hung loosely from his fingers. Eyes focused across the room, he lifted the amber liquid to his lips and drank while I admired the bob of his throat. I’d love to cross the room and put a kiss on that throat… He noticed me and shot me a sideways look, which was sexy as hell alone, but then he faced me full on and I had to grasp the edge of the bar for support. His black hair was stylishly tousled, his dark brows lowered over mesmerizing eyes. When he licked his full lips and glanced at my mouth, I had to bite down on my own lips to keep from rushing into his arms. “Hey, baby.” His smile was slanted, his words a little fuzzy. A jolt of awareness shot through every female part of my anatomy. I tried to sound and look casual by raising my eyebrows at his glass. “Whatcha doing?” I leaned on the bar. “Drinking.” He scanned me head to toe and I tingled. Swear to God, tingled like he’d touched me. A few customers sat at the other end of the bar, watching the muted televisions overhead, not us. There wasn’t enough staff bustling around to concern ourselves with prying eyes. Even Matt ignored us, leaning on the bar to watch television and chat with a guy at the opposite end. Devlin hooked a finger in a belt loop on my pants, then dragged me until I was standing between his parted legs. “Need a ride.” I wasn’t sure if his lazy, liquor-laced words were an invitation or a statement. He was relaxed instead of intense, and I found relaxed Devlin as irresistible as intense Devlin. “Maybe…you shouldn’t do this here,” I whispered. My hand went to his, but he only curled his finger tighter into my belt loop, refusing to

turn me loose. “My place,” he said. Again, I wasn’t sure what he meant. That Oak & Sage was his place and he could do what he wanted, or if he was inviting me to his place. For that ride—either the literal one I was supposed to give him or the one he was offering to give me. Wow. I was suddenly overly warm. I became aware of my tall, blond arch-nemesis stomping by, looking like she’d just made out with a lemon. “Melinda!” Dev called her over. “Devlin, no,” I warned as quietly as I could. He ignored me and tipped his head at her. She appeared a second later, took in his finger in my pants, and stood next to us, her usual scowl in place. I stiffened like a cadaver. “Yes?” She put a hand on her hip. “Finish Rena’s tables and side duty tonight. She’s busy.” Melinda’s mouth dropped open, but I spoke first. “No, that’s not…he’s kidding.” Devlin looked like he might laugh. Melinda looked like she might reach for the bottle at his elbow and brain him with it. I spoke before either of them did either of those things. “Fifteen minutes,” I told him. He watched my mouth, which was distracting. “My side work is finished and my tables are practically done.” Smiling at Melinda, I said, “Thanks, anyway,” as if she’d offered and her semi-drunken boss hadn’t commanded her. Once Melinda had gone, he loosened his hold on me and shrugged. “Trying to prove to you that I like you better than her.” He lifted his glass, sipped, then pushed it into my shoulder. “You.” I liked him, too. Even drunk and babbling. He polished off the glass, set it on the bar top, and entwined his fingers with mine. He didn’t take his eyes off me when he repeated, in a very low voice, “I like you, Rena.” I wished I’d had a drink right then because my throat was parched. The intensity of being “liked” by Devlin carried with it a truckload of responsibility. “Need a ride.” He pulled me closer, his bourbon-laced breath beginning to intoxicate me. “My place.” He hadn’t asked, but I felt compelled to say yes. How could I say anything but? — I drove Dev’s black SUV while he cranked the radio. The lyrics of a Snow Patrol song—one of my favorites—made my arms chill even in the warm car. Probably because the phrase “just say yes” led to thoughts of what was to come. “Here,” he said over the music, pointing toward a glass-front playhouse in the center of downtown. A block away from here was the least savory part of Ridgeway, boasting pawnshops and a bus station, but here, in front of the Schantz Theater and an adjacent

parking garage, the sidewalks were lined with potted poinsettias and black-iron streetlamps wrapped with white lights and pine garland. Idly, I thought about how I’d have to start Christmas shopping soon. And how I hadn’t had a boyfriend during the holidays in ages. Devlin turned the radio down and I reminded myself I didn’t have a boyfriend now, either. In the parking garage, he instructed me to wind all the way up to the top, where I parked in a numbered space. The wind whipped my hair when I got out, but before I could tame the flyaway strands, he captured my gloved hand in his. Together we strolled to the edge of the building and looked down at the sidewalk several stories below. A black limo waited on the side of the road, and what looked like a wedding party filed out onto the street. Girls wrapped in coats, their bright red skirts kicking in the air as they squealed with laughter and jumped up and down to keep warm. Men in tuxes huddled on the opposite side as the girls, obviously waiting for the bride and groom to exit. “I didn’t realize the Schantz had a reception area.” I smiled as a woman in a flowing white gown stepped outside, and muted applause rode the wind to where we stood. “Meeting rooms,” Dev said simply. I looked up at him. His hair kicked in the wind, and his face was pinched. Thinking of the wedding? Abhorring the idea of a wedding? I had no idea. “I’m assuming we’re not here to crash the party.” There were thirty-two luxury condominiums attached to the playhouse. When the building was erected a year ago, I looked into renting one just for fun. If the seven-month waiting list hadn’t stopped me from pursuing an abode here, the six-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag would have. Devlin waggled a half-empty bottle of bourbon he’d carried from the car. “We’ll make our own party.” He led me to the elevator. The inside was still cold since it was just off a small room attached to the parking garage. I huddled against the back of the lift, my mind filling with fantasies of him pushing me against the frigid walls and ravishing me. But he only leaned in the corner, staring down at the bottle in his hand, a contemplative frown on his face. I wondered if he’d tell me what he was upset about if I asked. Then I wondered if I had the courage to ask. The elevator dinged and came to a stop, and we stepped out three floors below where we’d parked. He held the doors for me and pointed the neck of the bottle at the apartment across the hall: 103. Four condos sprawled the width of the floor we were on. Elegant sconces lit patterned goldenrod walls over matching goldenrod carpet. Live potted plants stood in each corner and beneath each window, three total. One window was opposite the elevator, and the others flanked either end of the hall wide and tall, giving ample view of the city lights. My heart thundered as Devlin unlocked his front door and stepped in ahead of me. I couldn’t believe I was here with him. I’d wondered while driving him here how he lived, what his home looked like. A ritzy condo in the Schantz wasn’t what I expected. His apartment opened to a huge attached living room and kitchen. Beyond, a door stood open to a bathroom and bedroom. From what I could see of his place, it was immaculate. I didn’t think Devlin was the kind of guy to keep a clean house, but then, what did I know about him really? “Nice place.” I admired the framed art hanging over his couch. It was a painting of a woman

in an elegant red dress riding a bicycle. Devlin owned art. Huh. “Yeah,” he agreed, taking my coat. The furniture was leather and the electronics high-end. I couldn’t fathom how much he had to earn a year to live here. “The restaurant business must be really profitable,” I ventured. “Sonny,” he said. “Sonny?” I repeated. “This is his place?” I ran my fingers along the back of the couch, eyeing the remote wedged between the sofa cushions. I spotted a pair of shoes kicked off in the corner. Okay, so he wasn’t a neat freak; he just wasn’t a slob. “He owns it.” I heard a cabinet door shut and turned my head to find him pouring two drinks. He held up one of the glasses as I walked to the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I don’t drink hard liquor. Light beer.” “Lame.” I gave him a wan smile. He dumped the contents of my glass into his and yanked open the fridge. “I don’t have light. Regular?” “Okay.” He carried the bottle of bourbon in one hand, my beer bottle and his glass in the other, to the living room. I followed and he handed me my beer and sat. Silently, he downed half the glass of bourbon in one swallow. I took a dainty sip of my beer and perched on the edge of a cushion, suddenly uncomfortable and not understanding why. Maybe it was because out of all the things he and I had done together, “hanging out” hadn’t really been one of them. I curled my bottle into my chest. He leaned his elbows on his knees but held his glass close. “Dev?” He blinked over at me, not sober, but not completely drunk, either. In that weird buzzed state where he likely felt loose and relaxed. I’d been there a time or thirteen. “Why am I here?” I asked, because there had to be a reason. “Because”—he shifted his gaze to his glass—“I don’t want to be alone.” His honesty floored me. I couldn’t have been more surprised than if he’d taken me downstairs to a party and did the Chicken Dance. “Do you need someone to talk to?” I asked. He let out a dry laugh, then took another drink. “No.” Setting his glass aside, he reached for me. I was still wearing my server attire, the not-sexy ensemble of a pressed white shirt and black pants. “I don’t need to talk.” His hand on the back of my neck, he pulled my lips to his. I let him, enjoying the warm firmness of his mouth. One bourbon-flavored kiss later, he let me go. “Not fair,” he muttered. My eyebrows lifted in question. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead onto mine, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“All I want to do is kiss you.” Abruptly, he pulled away and gestured around the apartment. “Fold you over the kitchen counter. Take you in the shower. Lay you down on that rug.” My heart raced. I wanted that, too. All of it. “Sounds…fair to me,” I said, my voice a dry croak. Sounded divine. I abandoned my beer bottle and started unbuttoning my shirt. He watched, following the movement of my fingers with wavering focus. I revealed a tan cotton bra, and his focus sharpened, his eyes zooming in on my chest. After the last button, I pulled the shirt from my shoulders and he swallowed thickly, eyes still on my bra-covered breasts. “This making you feel better?” I asked. He answered by locking his arm around my waist and lowering his lips to my neck. Nipping and licking, he traveled up the side of my throat, then down, leaving my skin damp, goose bumps popping up all over my arms. When he reached my bra, he unhooked it and slipped the straps off my shoulders, wasting no time taking first one breast into his mouth, then the other, sucking my nipples while his fingers went to the button of my pants. My mind blanked, my body lost in the gauzy haze of lust shrouding me. Shrouding us. He was right there with me, each breath shortening, low moans of pleasure coming from his throat as I stripped him of his sweater and pants. As we kicked off our shoes. We didn’t make it to the rug. Instead, he kept his mouth on my breasts while he rolled on a condom, then his hands on my hips while he entered me over and over. I slid up the couch with each thrust, crying out when I came and holding him tightly. When he crashed over me, his breaths huffed out in a series of long, low groans. “That,” he breathed, when we were crammed up by the arm of his slightly sweat-slicked sofa. “That was what I needed.” Devlin’s arms were around me and my hands were in his hair. His cheek rested against my shoulder as he dragged his thumb along the underside of my breast. My skin prickled in the cold air and I shuddered. He continued plucking at my nipple, and I tugged on his hair, fingers twining in the silky strands. Quiet, he lay there, stroking my flesh while I inhaled and exhaled rapidly, my pulse pounding between my legs again. “I have a brother.” His voice came out of nowhere, snapping me back to the present with a sudden sting. I’d been so focused on his talented fingers, I didn’t think I’d heard him right. I stilled his hand and waited. He said nothing. “And you didn’t before today?” I half joked. “No.” But his voice held no humor. He sat up, tugging his jeans over his legs as he went. I watched him stand, admired the curve of his butt and the pair of dimples at his lower back. The sounds that followed were the teeth from his zipper, the clearing of his throat, and the splash as he refilled his glass with bourbon. He offered me my beer. I shook my head. “Drink, Rena. I’m not drinking alone, and I’m not going to cry on your shoulder.” Fury danced in his eyes. I was tempted to be petulant but instead took the beer and sipped. Devlin had a brother he hadn’t known he’d had. There were so many questions and possible story lines, my mind whirred.

He kept his eyes on me while he downed an inch of the amber liquor, then muttered, “Fuck it. Let’s tell all our shit.” I scooted up to rest against the arm of the sofa, tugging a blanket from the back of it and covering my naked body. Devlin sat near my toes. He pointed at me with his glass. “Worst thing you’ve ever done in your life.” I felt my eyes go wide. “What’d you do, Rena?” He smirked. “Steal paper clips from work? Tell a friend you didn’t like her haircut?” I looked at my hands, then at him. He was being mean, and I was offended, so I challenged him with the cold, hard truth. “Watched my boyfriend die next to me when we were eighteen years old.” “Stunned” was the only word to describe his expression. His dark eyebrows shot for his hairline, his mouth pulled into a frown. He uttered a soft “Damn,” then clinked his glass against my bottle in macabre cheers. I drank several long swallows, wincing as the carbonation burned my throat. When I licked my lips and met his eyes, he gestured for me to continue. I shook my head, not because it wasn’t something I didn’t want to tell him about, but because it was a clichéd story. “It’s a cautionary tale of underage drinking and distracted driving.” Then I added the part I never said aloud. I don’t know why I added it. Maybe because I wanted to tell Devlin the real truth. “The story of how the bad girl in the relationship became the good girl after her saintly boyfriend died.” “You? A bad girl?” He raised an eyebrow. “All things being relative.” I waited for him to pity me. To apologize. He didn’t. “Was your boyfriend really a saint?” I shrugged. “When you die at eighteen, no one seems to remember anything bad about you.” Long, thick lashes swept over his blue unfocused gaze. “And they didn’t remember anything bad about you, either.” “Nope.” He got it. Just like that. No pseudo-sympathizing. No judgment. Nothing but his spot-on assessment. Dev scooted closer, hugging my knees and dropping his chin on his arms. “Did you want to keep being bad?” I nodded. “Instead you were forced to be good.” He gave me a half smile. “Be the mourning girlfriend. Go to a shrink. Talk through your problems.” He was right on all counts. “What did you do after that? Only date guys who were in seminary?” I picked at the frayed ends of the blanket covering me. “I…didn’t date anyone.” He let go of my legs and sagged against the back of the couch. “Don’t say until me.” “Okay. I won’t say it.” His bared chest expanded to take in a deep breath.

“It’s a burden, isn’t it? Knowing you’re the next guy after I dated the perfect guy? Why do you think I stayed single for four years?” I drank a few deep guzzles, feeling Devlin’s eyes on me. As I lowered the beer bottle, I couldn’t make myself return his gaze, so instead I picked at the label. He stayed quiet. I looked up to find him staring at his glass. I poked his leg with my toe. “Your turn.” As he angled his chin toward me, a shock of hair fell over his forehead. “Believe it or not, my worst thing can’t touch yours.” I believed it. Death had the final say. “I don’t want to know your worst thing. I want to know the story behind your learning you had a brother.” I watched as he shook his head, sure he wasn’t going to tell me. Then he did. “My dad’s best friend, Paul, who I’ve been trying to help out of a tight spot, apparently had an affair with my mom behind my dad’s back. Years ago. Mom split before Dad knew she was pregnant with Cade. Dad’s dead now, so…” Sounded like he had me on the worst tale after all. I’d miss my parents if they weren’t around. I felt my brows pull in sympathy. He didn’t see my expression because his head was down and he was talking to his bourbon. “Paul’s son, as it turns out, is my half brother.” He drank down the rest, put the glass aside. “My mom took off when I was, like, two. That left me with Dad, who’d managed to lose nearly everything—including his life—by the time I was eighteen.” It was the first I’d ever heard of his family. Of anything personal, actually. I really didn’t know Devlin. Our bodies knew each other, and I’d believed that was enough. I didn’t know if I still believed it was enough, but the idea frightened me, so I decided not to think about it. Knowing more of his past would only make it harder when he left. And he would leave me. Melinda was right about him. He would hurt me. Not physically. No, physically, he could only delight me. But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d stomp my delicate heart into sawdust when he was through with me. I shuddered at the thought and held myself tighter. “Your dad…died when you were eighteen?” I asked. “Jumped off a bridge.” A sharp, humorless laugh, then, “Paul took me in.” The irony showed on his face. “Out of the goodness of his heart.” His next pour landed half in his glass, half on the coffee table. “Or guilt.” He slammed the bottle onto the coffee table so hard, I half expected to see a hairline fracture in the glass. “Did you learn to gamble from your dad?” He nodded, drank, and poured some more. The bottle had only a few inches of bourbon left. I reached for his arm. “Maybe you should stop.” “Maybe you should go home.” His lethal glare nearly sliced me in two. “You asked me here.” “I got what I wanted. You can go now.” He wouldn’t look at me even after I stared at him for five solid seconds. I put my feet on the floor, wrapping the blanket tighter, his words a cinder block in my stomach. He was doing

this on purpose. He wanted me to leave and leave mad. When I stood, I snatched up the liquor bottle, unwilling to go quietly into that good night. “Hey!” He stood, too. “Does this usually work for you?” I walked backward toward the kitchen, blanket around me, bottle in hand. He followed. “Rena…” “This whole ‘no one loves me’ routine?” “Thin ice.” His voice was thick with warning. I didn’t care. “You want me to go?” I challenged. “You’ll have to throw me into the hallway wearing only this blanket.” “You think I won’t?” He advanced, scarily serious. Nothing on his face told me he was kidding. I spun the cap off the bourbon with one thumb. It bounced on the floor and rolled under a cabinet. Devlin’s face went red. “You’re cut off.” I upended the liquor into the sink on the island between us. The remaining contents glugged down the drain. His hands were on my shoulders a second later and he spun me around to face him. The bottle clattered into the stainless steel sink and my blanket fell. His eyes didn’t move from my face. Teeth pulled into a grimace, he growled, “Get out.” It was unwise to keep pushing him. I had no idea if he was a mean drunk or not. His hold was tight, though he wasn’t hurting me. Maybe that’s why I felt my head move left then right, then left again. A slow motion No. How far would he take this? I wondered. Would I wind up in the center of downtown Ridgeway dressed in a blanket? The flex of his fingers and flaring nostrils told me I might. “Fine.” Shrugging off his hold, I dragged the blanket behind me to the living room, not bothering to cover up. “I’ll go.” I was pissed. First off, I hated conceding. Second, Dev and I had been moments into the only real conversation we’d ever had, and he’d been as cowardly as if he’d taken the first available lifeboat off the Titanic. What a wimp. I snatched up my clothes and tugged them on, not caring that he watched. Halfway through buttoning my shirt, he stepped into the living room. The expression on his face was almost pained as he stilled my hand and put a palm on the back of my neck. His fingers tickled my nape before sifting through my hair. I sought his face for remorse and found nothing but the grim set of his mouth. He finished what I’d started, sliding button after button through the holes of my work shirt until he reached my neck. Extracting my hair from my collar, he dropped the length of it over my shoulders. “I’ll give you money for a cab.” His words hurt like he’d slapped me. He was actually sending me home? And here I stood, having already played my best card. The sex card. The reason he’d asked me here tonight. I felt a sad smile of acceptance cross my face. This is what being with Devlin was like. In all its agonizing glory.

“I can’t, Rena.” His voice was so soft I felt myself softening and tried to guard against it. It was no use. One look into his warm eyes and I couldn’t keep from engaging him. “What can’t you do?” I whispered, fearing if I spoke louder, I’d spook this new, gentle Devlin. I didn’t want to go back to the angry, emotionless man I’d stolen a bottle of liquor from moments ago. Not after the hint of vulnerability I’d heard in his voice. Because it was real. The realest thing he’d ever said to me…second only to him admitting he didn’t want to be alone. Hands clutching my collar, he pulled me closer and spoke quieter than before. “I can’t make love to you, and hold you all night, and tell you how much I care about you.” My heart pounded out barbed beats, deepening the ache in my chest. Why couldn’t he do all of that? I wanted that. So much. More than I’d wanted anything in a long, long time. The silence stretched. I refused to look away. “I can’t.” On his final whisper, he lowered his lips to mine. Heavy lids closed over the honesty in his eyes. Despite the bitter taste of resentment choking me, I kissed him back. His sweet kiss held everything I didn’t want, turned me inside out. Foolishly, I reached for him, linking my arms around his neck and hating myself for how relieved I was when he held me to him. I clung, but he pulled away a second later and issued a warning. “Rena, don’t.” “Just fuck me.” I held on to him desperately, keeping my body pressed tightly against his. “Fuck me and leave me alone in bed and don’t say a goddamned thing.” I trailed my hands down his bare chest and to the snap on his jeans. “I don’t want to leave.” I unzipped his fly. “And you don’t want me to.” Pressing my lips against his naked chest, I trailed down his torso, reminding him how much he wanted me. How much he liked me. By the time my teeth raked along his rib cage, he caught my elbows to keep me from dropping to my knees. “I don’t want you…” I broke his hold and used his lack of balance to push him to the couch. “…to stay,” he finished as he sat with a whump. “Yes, you do.” I stripped off my shirt, my bra, and my remaining clothes while he watched from beneath hooded lids. Devlin may not know what he wanted, but I did. And I knew what I wanted. Leaving him wasn’t what I wanted. Before I could go down to my knees, he caught my waist and pulled me into his lap. He wrapped his arms around my back and squeezed, his hold tight, his breath warming my exposed skin. We sat that way, my hands in his hair, his head resting against my breast, for I don’t know how long. Eventually, he retrieved the blanket and I scooted onto the couch and made room for both of us. We fell asleep snuggled together, his head on my stomach, my thoughts on him.

Chapter 14

Devlin I couldn’t remember the last time I disentangled myself from a woman in the morning. Until this morning, when I woke up, my arms wrapped around Rena, and both of us sharing the afghan that usually laid on the back of my couch. She didn’t wake when I went into the kitchen to take a few pain relievers and snag a Gatorade from the fridge, so I left her there and lurched for the bathroom, hands clamping my skull as if I could keep my brains from leaking out of my ears. An entire bottle of bourbon. Was I an idiot? Yes, you are. Under the hottest water I could tolerate, I leaned my head back and let the spray wash over me. My stomach had settled some. I picked up the Gatorade I’d carried in with me and downed a few more greedy gulps. I wasn’t a stranger to drinking, but I hadn’t dived into that much of the hard stuff for a while. I guess finding out I had a brother, and that my childhood had been peppered with lies, was the very thing that led me to hit the bottle. I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, my tight muscles just now starting to relax. When I opened my eyes, two wide brown eyes were peeking through the shower curtain. Rena’s gaze sifted down my chest, to my stomach, and lower. Then stopped. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed before she jerked her attention back to my face. Memories of last night came back to me in disjointed pieces. I remembered I’d been pissed, that I asked her to leave, that she didn’t. I was glad she didn’t. Weird as it was to have her here, it was nice, too. “Come to make fun of the hungover guy?” I asked, my voice low and groggy. “I came to stare at him,” she said with a small smile. I noticed she wore a towel around her body and was likely waiting for an invitation. She had it. I shoved the shower curtain aside and held out a hand. Then my eyes bugged out when I watched her drop the towel and expose her body. “I will never get tired of seeing you naked,” I said as I helped her into the tub, my eyes appreciating the subtle dip of her waist and skimming over the smooth curves of her hips. Her smile was blindingly beautiful. My hands went into her hair and pushed it away from her face. I kissed her, tasting something I wasn’t as familiar with. Hope. “Don’t look at me like that.” I barely heard her above the spray. “Like what?” I let my hands trail down to her breasts and she pushed against my chest like she couldn’t resist me. I understood. I couldn’t resist her, either. “Like you’re afraid I’m getting too close to you.”

Her honesty made my smile falter. Melinda’s words from last night rang in my ears. She warned that once Rena fell in love with me, I’d freak out. Unfortunately, Melinda might be right. Everyone in my past who had “loved” me had bailed. Mom, Dad, and now Paul, and likely Sonny, once he found out what I did to help Paul. And what about Cade? Cade and I did not like each other. Adding an angry brother to my life wasn’t exactly an improvement. Rena, though. She’d seen me at my lowest. I’d been mean, unforgivably mean, last night. She stayed. I didn’t think it was because she was desperate, or because she’d felt bullied. I remembered I told her to get out, lied and said sleeping with her was my sole goal. She hadn’t believed me. I stood now, looking down at the woman in my arms and wondering why I pushed so hard. Habit, I imagined. Getting her to leave would guarantee she was safe. Keeping her here with me was the height of selfishness on my part. But I still couldn’t seem to let her go. She took the washcloth hanging from a small bar in the shower and rubbed soap on it. “I take it by your silence, I’m right.” Stroking the lathered cloth over one arm, then the other, she cleaned herself leisurely, unknowingly bending her body into a seductive dance. Suds trailed over her nipples, down to her belly button, and to the V of her thighs. “I am.” “You are what?” I rasped. Her voice startled me. I’d gotten lost watching her. She soaped my chest and leaned into me. “I’m getting too close to you.” My hands wrapped around her back on their own. I liked having her close to me. But I couldn’t say that, could I? I didn’t know how I felt about what we had. Probably because I didn’t know what we had. Having someone close—anyone—who didn’t bail on me wasn’t something I’d had the opportunity to grow accustomed to. “It’s nice to feel alive instead of nothing.” She drew circles in the soapsuds on my chest. “You…are the first person who made me feel alive in a long, long time.” I saw her forehead frown, but she kept her eyes on my chest instead of looking up at me. “I don’t want you to be my power source.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “Because when you unplug, I’m afraid I’ll… fade out.” Her eyes finally met mine, worry in their depths. Water from the showerhead bounced off my shoulders, causing her to blink. I shielded her face with my palms and waited for the panic to set in. Or the anger. Arguing had long been my coping mechanism for girls who stayed around too long. I knew I should level with her. Shrug and offer a casual Come on, Rena, you know we’d never work in real life. Play it off, get out of the shower, and take her home. Then she’d be safe. Safe away from me. Funny how the idea had taken root. There was only one problem with that plan. She was the first person to make me feel alive in a long time, too. Alive. Before now, I hadn’t known the word for it. Since the first time I kissed her, I’d been telling myself I was using her to get what I needed. After that, I convinced myself I was indulging curiosity. And then indulging insatiable curiosity. Last night, something shifted. Rena was still here. She didn’t appear to be interested in going anywhere. For the first time in forever, I felt afraid. What did it mean if I let myself depend on someone? If I let someone depend on me? Relying on her to stick around was dangerous territory. One day, I’d piss her off, and she’d leave. And that would leave me…just

me. I repressed a shudder. I didn’t want to think about it. I’d pushed her pretty hard last night, a small voice in the back of my head whispered, and she hadn’t gone anywhere. I couldn’t trust that voice yet. Hope may be prevalent in Rena’s life, but it had long been a stranger to me. I didn’t know what the hell she was doing with a guy like me, nor did I understand why I insisted on letting her mire herself in my life, but I knew I wanted her. I didn’t think I deserved to have her. But I wanted her beauty and attention, her softness, her willingness to push back when I push first, more than I wanted my next breath. For now, that was enough. For now, it was all I could handle. Her fingers gripped my sides. “I almost left this morning without saying goodbye. I heard you get in the shower and thought of getting dressed and leaving.” She’d kicked the door open for me to ask her why she hadn’t. Or suggest she leave now. To defend myself or argue. I couldn’t. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Just say it. Tell her you are glad she’s here. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say something. My jaw clenched tighter, refusing to allow my mouth to form the words living in a deep, dark part of me. A terrifying part of me. I kept silent, continued to stroke her lower back, but she didn’t wait for me to speak before she lifted to her tiptoes and kissed me. Soap slid between our bodies as I licked the seam of her lips. She opened to me, darting the tip of her tongue out to meet mine. Her lips moved slowly, lazily as she took my tongue in her mouth and slowly, lazily moved with it, too. I mused this might be the most erotic kiss I’d experienced with her. With anyone. Spearing my fingers through her damp hair, I held the back of her head, angling her mouth to the side so I could deepen the kiss. Heat licked like fire down my limbs. A soft mewl sounded in the back of her throat as our tongues tangled and her hand slid down the length of my dick and cupped my balls. I had to pull my mouth from hers to suck in a breath, her touch felt so good. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it. How much I needed her. When her hand wrapped around my shaft, I grunted against her smiling mouth. “There’s something I haven’t had a chance to do yet,” she said, nipping my bottom lip with her teeth. I swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what she was talking about, and trying not to utter the word “please” to whatever she said next. I wasn’t one to beg. Usually. “If you don’t want me to,” she said, her tone teasing and husky, “then just say the word.” I felt her teeth on my mouth, smiling as below her thumb brushed over the head. “If you think I’d ever tell you not to do something to me, you’re crazier than I am.” The words came out dry, but they were heartfelt. I devoured her mouth before she sassed me again. My teeth, my tongue, my lips, were everywhere at once. I pulled away to see if she was still with me but got sucked in by the cute slope of her nose, her full pink mouth, and her lashes, wet and spiky over her dark eyes. She’s so beautiful. I bit my tongue to keep from saying it. Why couldn’t I say it?

Rena’s hands started working me again and her mouth landed on my chest. She rubbed her thumb over the now-throbbing head of my cock. “Have you ever had the good girl go down on you in a shower?” she purred up at me. I pulsed in her hand. She squeezed me in return. “I—” Her teeth raked down my torso and I would have been amused that I was speechless if I hadn’t been concentrating so hard on not coming before she got her mouth on me. Again, I was powerless around her—a prospect that should have scared me to death. At the moment, I really didn’t care. I palmed the back of her head as her lips sipped my wet skin and her tongue dipped along each of my ribs. When she reached my belly button, my abs clenched, my hand grabbed a fistful of her hair. When she went lower, all thought ceased. I anchored one hand against the back of the shower wall and looked down to see her kneel before me. Keeping her eyes on mine, she licked me from balls to head, and I swear, my entire body jerked involuntarily. She swirled her tongue around the tip, sucking me in, abrading me with her teeth. Hard enough to be dangerous, but good enough that I tightened my calves and nearly caused a cramp. She took me into her mouth completely and I lost control of my tongue. A string of disjointed curse words tumbled out in one creative jumble. She took me deep, so deep her nose bumped into my stomach. She retreated and I watched my length leave her mouth, wanting to close my eyes and lose myself in the sensations of her warm lips and wet tongue, but not wanting to miss a single second of the glorious sight of Rena between my legs. And, God, she was amazing. If it’d ever felt this incredible to have a woman’s mouth on me, I couldn’t remember when. Maybe because nothing about what she’d done—now or last night —was out of obligation. She’d sunk to her knees for one reason. She wants me. Me. The guy she should be running from. She stayed despite the way I’d behaved, or because of it—she’d chosen to stay, and now she was loving me with her mouth. I felt…almost grateful. “Rena. Please.” I hadn’t meant to say the weakest word in the history of the planet, but she milked the truth out of me. And I was so…so fucking desperate for her touch, for her attention, I was begging for it. Which was embarrassing. But she didn’t give me a chance to feel anything other than incredible. Every muscle in my body tightened as a lightning bolt zipped down my spine and shot to my balls. I tried to say her name in warning, to give her a chance to pull away, but she didn’t let up. In fact, she intensified, driving me deeper, clutching my thighs tighter. Then she tugged gently on my sack, swallowing me completely. I came with a shuddering groan, bracing my body with the arm anchored to the wall, and Rena—beautiful Rena on her knees before me—drank me in. All of me. I came so hard my knees went weak. I had to pull my hand from her hair and slam it against the wall next to my other palm to hold myself up. When I dared opened my eyes, she pushed her wet hair from her face and licked her lips—

those incredible lips—then slid her wet body along mine as she rose to her feet. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. My eyes were closed, so I felt her smile rather than saw it when she gave me a kiss, just a peck. I swear if I didn’t bite down on my tongue right then I would have pleaded with her never to leave. Not because of the blowjob—though, good Lord, I’d donate a kidney to get another one like it—but because I was so humbled by what she’d done for me. What she was doing to me. Not just to my body. To me. I kissed her, holding her lips in mine as I pulled in a long breath through my nose. Keeping one hand wrapped around her waist, I reached behind me to turn off the water with the other. What if I saw her tonight? What if she came over again and I made love to her—wow, that thought was a panic attack waiting to happen—and then I slept next to her. Not because we fought and I passed out and it was convenient, but because I wanted to hold her through the night. Last night, she made the offer to “fuck her” so I wouldn’t have to admit I cared. Well, maybe I didn’t want to fuck her. Maybe we hadn’t been “fucking” at all. This was more. I didn’t know what it was…but I knew it was more. I started to tell her we’d get together tonight, but the words clogged my throat like hair in a drain. Instead I said, “Better get you home so you can get ready for work.” Disappointment bloomed in her eyes. I could see it. I thought Rena excited me because I didn’t know what she’d do next. Now I wonder if it’s not for the opposite reason. I didn’t know what I’d do next. To prove the point to myself, I blurted, “Unless you want to have a quick breakfast…and then a quickie against the kitchen counter before you go.” She stopped towel-drying her hair and smiled over at me. My hopes levitated, my lungs expanded. Her next words made my dick stand on end. “I’d love to.” “On the counter?” I propelled her backward, to the hallway, and snatched the towel from her hair as we went. Already, I couldn’t get enough of the girl who continued to amaze and surprise me. I kissed her and she gripped my wet hair. “Or against it?” She bit my bottom lip and I was careful not to slip on the puddles from our dripping bodies as we walked. “Or—” A hard knock sounded at my front door. Rena let out a sharp gasp of surprise as I held her naked body and lifted my head to listen. The knock sounded again, more intense this time, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out who was there. Then I remembered I’d dropped my phone in a glass of water last night. The meeting I’d missed with Sonny this week. Shit. “Get dressed,” I told her. She was out of my arms in a flash, gathering her clothes from the living room floor. In my room, I pulled on a pair of jeans as I heard the bathroom door shut behind her. I paced into the living room, tugging on a long-sleeved shirt as I went. The knock sounded again, this time followed by a voice. “Devlin Calvary! I know you’re in there!” Not Sonny. Relief. I looked through the peephole. Cade was standing in the hallway, lifting

his fist to pound again. “Hang on!” I shouted, followed by an under-my-breath “impatient bastard.” I opened the door, and didn’t have to try for the scowl on my face. Just came naturally. He walked in without waiting for an invitation. I closed the door behind him. Hands on his hips, he surveyed my living quarters. “King Calvary,” he said mockingly while shaking his head. “Come to kiss my rings?” When he faced me, his mouth was set. Stubborn. “I’m here to talk business.” He cut to the chase. “I know you know—” The bathroom door squeaked and we both turned our heads to find Rena, wet hair twisted behind her head, wearing her work clothes from yesterday. She collected her coat from a chair as she passed, and hooked her purse over her shoulder. Cade’s eyes flicked up and down her body. I prepared to strike. If he came on to my girl, I’d knock his head off. It wouldn’t be until later I’d remember thinking of Rena as “my girl” and, when I did, realize further it hadn’t alarmed me in the least. “Hey,” She sent an unsure smile to me then Cade. “I’m—I have to go. I called a cab.” She dropped her phone into her purse. “I know you,” Cade said. Her eyes snapped to him. Mine followed. “You know Tash,” she corrected with a nod of recognition. Tash? He grunted. “Yeah, I know Tash.” I felt waves of tension between them, and I didn’t like it. I also didn’t know who Tash was and didn’t like that Cade did. Wait. I did know. A memory crawled out of my brain’s filing cabinet, and I recalled a previous conversation in the kitchen of Oak & Sage. Tasha was Rena’s best friend, the friend she’d told about my coming to her apartment but left out the part where I’d shown up bloody. “I’ll see you later.” Rena turned her attention to me and I froze. Kissing her goodbye would be the normal thing to do, but for some reason I didn’t want to be affectionate in front of Cade. To show him how soft Rena made me when she was around. It was too weird. This whole thing was too weird. “See ya.” I patted her shoulder. Which proved weirder. Cade cast a curious glance from me to her. “I’m Rena, by the way” she introduced, proving they didn’t really “know” each other but had probably met in passing. This made me feel marginally better. “Cade,” he answered. To my chagrin he added the unnecessary detail, “Devlin’s new brother.” Awkward, party of three. Rena floored me, as she had since I met her, by taking it in stride. “Ahh, well, this promises to be fun. Sorry to miss out.” I watched Cade’s expression melt into admiration, and he took an imperceptible step closer to her. Which I didn’t like at all. So I bent and kissed her for long enough to make Cade

uncomfortable, make Rena moan, and make my pants tight. When I took my lips from hers and pulled my hand from her damp hair, I muttered, “Get my scarf, baby.” She blinked up at me, a little dazed and a whole lot beautiful. “Your hair’s wet and it’s cold. Take my scarf.” Obediently, she strode to the hook where my leather coat and scarf hung, pulled the scarf from the rung, and wrapped it over her wet hair. I walked to the door, opened it, and kissed her briefly when she met me there. “Bye,” she breathed. I instantly regretted opening the door. I could have been inside her by now, and knocking pots and pans and various utensils from the counter to the tiled floor. “Bye.” Another time, then. The moment I shut the front door, Cade plopped onto my couch and put his feet on my table. It was a challenge and I refused to take the bait. “You were saying?” I asked. He propped his arms across the back of the couch and then I understood why my back still hurt from where he’d punched me. I had biceps, but he had arms like tanks. Good God. Why in the hell did he need to pack that much heat as a college student? “Need the name and location of your bookie boss.” This threw me. I crossed my arms in defiance. “Dad would want to know why I want it,” he explained. “And when I tell him why, he’ll refuse to give it to me.” “Too early for this shit.” I headed for the kitchen. He followed. “Where the hell are you going?” “I’m making coffee.” While I waited on six cups of incredibly strong brew, Cade continued to prowl around my house. “You going to offer me a cup?” he asked after I poured a mug for myself and shoved the carafe back on the burner. I pointed to the maker, then to the cabinet where the mugs were. Get it yourself. He did, and I sat at my breakfast bar drinking the black tar and praying it would wake me up enough to get through today. Cade filled a mug with coffee and stood at the breakfast bar. “You have flavored creamer?” “You fucking joking?” I gave him a bland look. He had the grace to look away, embarrassed. I smiled. “I want to pay Dad’s debt,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “So pay it. I’m right here,” I told him. “Don’t want to give it to you, Dev,” he said, but I didn’t get the idea he didn’t trust me. “I want to talk to Sonny. Pay my dad’s debt in person.” I downed the remainder of my coffee, considering. I wasn’t sending him to Sonny alone. Not that I thought Sonny would hurt him, but if Cade mouthed off—a high probability—and

Sonny did hurt him, I sure as hell didn’t need that on my conscience, too. “Forget it,” I said. “When did you become such a dick?” “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Birth?” “You owe my family, Devlin.” He stabbed the counter with one finger. “My mom…” He paused, probably to remember that Joyce wasn’t actually his mother. He looked into his mug and muttered, “Mom didn’t send your ass to juvi. Dad didn’t kick you out.” All true. I felt a pang of guilt. “You owe me, too, for not killing you last night.” He smirked. I stood up from the stool, its legs scraping the slate floor. Cade jumped. He should. “This isn’t going to end well for you if you keep challenging me.” He shifted but maintained his ground. I respected him for it. At least he wasn’t a pussy. “Give me the cash,” I told him, sitting down again. “I’ll take it to Sonny. I have to see him today anyway.” “Why? Gotta deliver cash for some other deadbeat like my dad?” he grumbled. “No.” An idea had occurred to me this morning, while I nursed a headache and a tossing stomach. If I wasn’t with Sonny I could work Oak & Sage full-time. I could manage and Rena could wait tables and we could be together without any goons bloodying my face. Without any secret pickups in the dining room. Leaving Sonny was a big move, but in my gut, it felt like the right one. “Getting out.” I hadn’t been sure until just now. Now that I said it aloud, I was sure. “Getting out?” Cade’s brows pulled down over his nose. “Out out? What’s up, Dev, growing a heart all of a sudden? Thinking of someone other than yourself?” I hated the cocky set of his mouth. I hated more that he was right. I pressed my lips together. “And for a girl,” he said. “What are you talking about?” I put my empty mug in the sink, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “Reformed. Just like that. When I saw her here, I thought you were making the good girl bad. Now I see it’s the other way around.” “You don’t know anything.” “I know her.” At my scowl, he continued. “Well, I know her friend Tasha.” He growled her name, making me think there was bad blood. “Rena’s nothing like her.” “Quit saying Rena’s name like you know her.” I was going to leave it alone, but accidentally tacked on, “What do you mean she’s nothing like Tasha?” I expected him to smile, having succeeded at snaring me into this girly gossip fest, but instead he grimaced. His lips twisted. “She’s annoying. Rich, hot, thinks she’s better than everyone else.” I snorted. It earned me a frown. “You’re not exactly what I’d call destitute, bro.” But his thoughts were still on Tasha. “She’s a stuck-up slut, and I’m surprised someone like

Rena hangs out with her.” His comment smacked of love lost. “What happened, Cade? She turn you down when you asked her to prom?” “What happened to you, Dev?” he snapped. “Rena give you those big doe eyes and ask you to show her how to give head?” I bolted out of my seat, this time turning over the stool. Cade held up both hands in front of him. “Over the line,” he said with a dimpled smile. My fists were still balled, my teeth welded together. “That was disrespectful,” he said. His grin was intact, though, telling me he’d gotten the information he needed from his little verbal expedition. My stare-down wasn’t affecting him anyway. I backed off. “I have money,” Cade said after a few silent seconds. “I respect Sonny. At least he never took Dad for all he was worth. I want to pay him in person, make sure he knows Dad can’t pay but I can.” Sonny would respect the tactic. He knocked a percentage off my own father’s debt after I inherited the restaurant. Sonny stepped in, and while it was in part self-serving, he’d also done a lot of things he didn’t have to do. This condo, for example. He didn’t have to let me live here expense-free. He didn’t have to give me the SUV parked in the garage, either. But he had. Maybe he would cut Paul some slack. “Tex doesn’t care if he destroys my dad.” Cade’s gaze flicked away and then focused on me again. “You know he doesn’t.” “No,” I agreed. “He doesn’t.” “Guess I have you to thank for stepping in to help Dad bet.” “Futile.” I shook my head. “He bet it again, Cade.” He watched me. “I know.” “Double or nothing,” I said to emphasize my point. “I know. He lost.” Damn. Despite my advice. I wasn’t right all of the time. I knew the players’ histories, the team history, but I couldn’t predict the future. “Not your fault, Dev.” I frowned, feeling a cocktail of confusion mixed with denial. I wasn’t accustomed to being not guilty in anyone’s eyes. “I have to pay Sonny,” Cade said. “And Tex?” He looked away from his cooling coffee. “I don’t know.” Maybe in the middle of this insanity, I’d finally found where I belonged. In a pocket with Cade, of all people, the only real family I had left. And Rena. Somehow I knew they’d both be here when I walked away from Sonny. Walking away was something I had to do on my own. I couldn’t take him Cade’s money just to soften the blow for myself. Cade needed to soften the blow for his dad. That I could give him.

“Eight-oh-four,” I started. Cade’s brows rose. “Got your phone?” I asked. When he pulled it out of his pocket, I recited the rest of Sonny’s phone number and gave him the address to the pizza parlor.

Rena Tasha’s roommate was snoring on the other side of the dorm room while Tash and I watched her, lattes in hand. “Shelby sleeps through anything,” Tash said. “Anyway, go on.” “Do you think I was right to stay? I just feel like he…needed me.” And this morning, I woke up so overcome with feelings—dangerous, dangerous feelings—that surpassed the horny ones. Was I falling for Devlin? Tash shook her honey-colored hair, pulled into a sloppy mess on top of her head. “You’re on shaky ground, my friend.” I lifted one eyebrow. I loved her, but my bestie wasn’t exactly full of sage advice in the relationship department. “You wanted Devlin because he was a bad boy.” I opened my mouth to argue. The attraction was there despite how “bad” he was, but she kept talking, so I stayed quiet. “Now you’ve got him, and you’re trying to turn him into Joshua.” My head jerked on my neck in shock. There was no way, none, Devlin could ever be Joshua. Devlin was too much of a free thinker, and he was confident, and so sexy any woman within a ninety-mile radius noticed. And also: “I don’t want to turn him into Joshua.” “Oh, you don’t?” she challenged. “You wouldn’t like it if Devlin called you every day? You wouldn’t like him to take you out to candlelit dinners? You wouldn’t want him to buy you jewelry?” She was hard to take seriously in a bunny pajama set. She was also wrong. “I don’t want that,” I answered honestly. What she said made me think of Devlin in the real world. How would a “normal” relationship work with him, exactly? I pictured him coming for dinner at my mom’s, hanging out with Tasha and Tony at a frat party, or us at the grocery store. It alarmed me how awkward it was to picture him in the monotony of everyday life. He was easy to fit into private, stolen moments at work—in the freezer, or in the cramped office doing things we weren’t supposed to. Or in my apartment, bloody on my doorstep, or behind me in the hallway. That was Devlin in his element: in charge, full control, and wowing me with his badness. And me going along for the ride. Would being a couple make our hot hookups tepid by comparison? “Plus, you don’t want to be, like, dating a guy who runs a restaurant, do you?” Tash scrunched her cheeks. “The hours are horrible.” I blinked at her. Restaurant hours were the least of my worries. Devlin involved in criminal activity, however… Yeah, that was an issue.

“Maybe you should keep it light. Have a good time with him, but get out before it gets to be too much.” She scrambled off her bed and stretched. I sat, my head leaning against her wall, my latte cooling in my hand. What if it was already too much? My phone chimed, jarring me from my thoughts. Tasha and I exchanged glances. The text message was from an unknown number. “Loverboy?” she teased. “I don’t know.” But I did know. The text read, COME OVER. “Your smile says yes,” my best friend sang. I typed in, who is this? The response, again in shouty caps, made my insides tingle. YOU’D BETTER BE KIDDING. “Well?” I smiled at Tasha. “He wants me to come over. Should I?” “Yes.” She plunked back onto the bed and took my phone, typing before I could grab it. When she handed it back, I saw she’d written, HELL YES! “Tasha! He’s going to know that wasn’t me!” Her roommate stirred, and I covered my mouth. “Lower your expectations, sweetie. You’re allowed to have good, hard, against-the-wall sex with your boy toy, as long as you don’t let yourself get in too deep.” I slid off her bed. “Look who’s talking, Mrs. Tony Fry.” She shook her head, but it lacked conviction. “I’m—we’re keeping it casual.” “Tash…” “I know! Okay? I know.” She pulled a pillow onto her lap and squeezed it tight. “But at least I know it’s not going to work out. I know he’ll get bored of me in a few weeks.” My shoulders slumped. I hated seeing her like this. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, and you’re going to be the most epic therapist Ridgeway has ever seen. You could have any guy, like a real guy. Not a Tony.” “Yeah? So could you.” But Devlin was the guy I wanted. Despite what she thought, he was as real as they came. “Hey, come out with me tonight.” She threw the pillow aside. I looked at my phone screen, but Dev hadn’t texted me again. “Parade?” “Not Parade. A group of girls from my sorority are going to this street race on Alley.” “A street race?” Since when was Tasha into cars? “Yeah. I wouldn’t go, normally, but Casey’s boyfriend, Roger, is racing.” My phone chimed again, and I studied the screen. “Loverboy?” I nodded and picked up my latte. A smile broadened my features, and I didn’t try to hide it. “He wants me there after work.” She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Standing up your best friend for your bad-boy boyfriend. It starts.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, but as I waved goodbye and let myself out, I thought that maybe, despite my misgivings, I wished he were. Having a wish at all felt good. Really good.

Chapter 15

Devlin Donna delivered a slice of Triple Threat and a Pepsi to a booth by the window. Sonny excused himself when he saw me and had just now returned. With my new cellphone. He plunked the shitty flip phone onto the table. “Don’t lose this one.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d already purchased one for myself. One not hooked to him, or the business. I took another bite, trying to think of the best way to say what I had to say. Then again, maybe there wasn’t a best way. He sat across from me and folded his hands. I pushed the phone away. “I’ll get my own.” He inclined his head. Now or never. Time to see what I was made of. If I had the balls to say what I’d been silently wishing for years, and had pronounced to my new half brother hours ago. “I’m out, Son,” I told him, emboldening myself enough to meet his eyes. I wasn’t timid about much, but disappointing him roiled my stomach. “I probably still owe you money, and I’ll pay it. We agreed as long as I work for you, you cut what I owe, but if you want to retract that agreement, I get it.” His glare nearly burned a hole through my head. It took almost all of my courage to hold his gaze. “You probably still owe me money?” he repeated flatly. “If I want to retract our agreement?” he said, hitting the letter T’s extra hard. “I will pay it.” I said, trying not to fidget but failing. I balled a napkin in my left hand. “If I have to I can—” “The kid with the photographic memory,” Sonny grumbled. He sipped his coffee. “You probably still owe me money.” He huffed, a halfhearted chuckle. “How much do you owe me, smarty?” I frowned. “I don’t know.” “You know. Bet you have the exact amount down to the change logged in that big brain of yours.” I swallowed. I did know. I just didn’t want to think about it. “If I pay you the amount I originally—” “Devlin.” Something in his craggy face softened and made me choke on my argument. I took a breath, and told him the truth. “We’re square,” I muttered. “Have been for a few years now.” A slight smile tweaked his mouth. “A few years?” “Twenty months.” I crunched the napkin tighter. “We’re square.” “Yeah, kid. We’re square. So why you hangin’ on?” I had to think about that. As much as I wanted a chance to see what I could be without him,

I also hated to leave. Because he was what I knew. This life was what I knew. What I was good at. “You want free of this shit, Dev?” I did. At least a shot being free. I shook my head, unable to give voice to my thought. Why was this so hard? “You should.” Sonny took a long gander around his tiny pizza place as we listened to the clattering coming from the kitchen, the soda machine running as a customer refilled his cup. “I just…I want to try to make it. On my own. Live the kind of life…” I thought of my father. My mother. The faded photos in the album holding dreams never realized. I wanted to live the kind of the life I could be proud of. The kind of life with room for Rena. And more. At the idea of more, the hand wrapped around the napkin began to shake. So I changed the subject. “The apartment,” I told him. “I’ll move.” “Your call, kid.” “And I’ll return the SUV.” “Keep it.” I’d negotiated the SUV for payment when a bettor didn’t have the cash. It felt wrong to keep it if I was out. “Son—” “Kid. Keep it.” He pushed a fist into the table and stood, taking his mug with him when he went. Without turning, he called over his shoulder. “Keep the phone, too.” Six years being Sonny’s guy and he was letting me go. Granted, I’d offered to leave, but part of me…the part repeatedly damaged by abandonment, felt the sting of that cut. At the front door, I ventured a glance over my shoulder. Donna was wiping down the red plastic dine-in trays, Sonny nowhere to be seen. He’d cut me loose. I dropped the phone in my pocket. My parting gift, and last line to my mentor. Not gonna lie, it kind of bothered me that he’d accepted my resignation so easily.

Rena I showed up at Devlin’s after work. We didn’t make it to the bed. “Your kitchen floor is surprisingly clean,” I said, admiring the virtually spotless slate tiles. “But freezing.” I shuddered. Devlin lay on his back next to me, stark naked and mouthwateringly beautiful, his chest a series of lines and planes, shadows and highlights. His eyes were focused overhead, one hand resting on his chest. He’d been quiet tonight as if mulling something over. Earlier, I’d attempted to fill the air with a story from work when he grabbed me and kissed me hard on the mouth. Things had sort of gotten out of hand from there. I had no idea where he’d tossed my bra. I propped my head on my hand and looked at him. “What?” He smiled. It was so good to see him smile. He’d definitely relaxed since I showed up. “Nothing. I’m just looking at you.” “Tell me.” My turn to smile…and ask him the question I’d been wondering since the infamous night in my hallway. “Do you think we’ll ever have sex in a bed?” A low chuckle bobbed his throat. His openness expanded my heart…and made me remember Tasha’s warning. Melinda’s warning. Guys like Devlin weren’t keepers. He’s too dangerous. But even as the thought came, I shut it down. He wasn’t dangerous. What he did had risks, but he’d been at it for a long, long time. Obviously, he was good at staying safe. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “If you stay tonight, we’ll do it in the bed.” His blue eyes glittered in the LED lights illuminating our bodies. I had peeked into his bedroom the last time I was here. Huge black iron bed with dark blankets, mahogany furniture. The room even smelled like him—not like cloying cologne or body spray, but the faint essence of spice, maybe from his soap or deodorant. It was the way he smelled now. I loved it. Picturing us spread out on his black bedding, and then waking up on the pillow next to him in the morning, made me certain. I wanted the very thing with Devlin I shouldn’t let myself want. Him. For good. Forever. I wasn’t at all ready for that level of attachment. The sex was light and fun, but somehow, the intimacy of sleeping with him—when he was sober, unlike the other night when bourbon had been his bedmate—was almost too much to handle. I reached across his body and traced the number seven tat on his triceps. “What’s it mean?” His eyes went to mine. I pulled my hand away.

“Lucky number?” I guessed. “Was that night.” I waited. He watched me as if deciding whether or not to share. It made me wonder if tonight had been intimate for him, too. After a deep sigh, he finally spoke. “Dad took me with him to bet on the ponies sometimes. I watched every race, remembered every winner. When he realized I had a knack for remembering details about the horses—which were winners, which were favored—he started asking for my advice. I was ten years old the day we won, and won big.” Moved by how much he’d shared, I whispered, “Thank you.” He gave me a sweet kiss I felt down to my freezing toes. “The horse’s name was Lucky in Love.” “Number seven?” I guessed. “Number seven.” “It’s a nice tattoo.” The 7 was an artistic font with big, balloon-shaped ends, shaded dark, and spanning the underside of his upper arm. His lips lifted and his eyes warmed. I was suddenly nervous. Maybe I wasn’t ready to be on this level with Devlin. I shifted away from him, ready to make my escape. I needed distance from the heavy emotions crashing into me like waves on sharp rocks. “I told Tasha I’d meet her for a thing tonight,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. “What thing?” His brow marred in question. I reached for my shoe and searched the kitchen for the other one. “Some street race thing. I don’t know.” He tugged my shoe to get my attention. “Some street race thing?” “Want to go?” I swallowed thickly. Did he? I had no idea. What would Tasha say when she met him? I wanted to know and didn’t want to know at the same time. Before he could answer, his phone rang. He did a sit-up, clenching those mouthwatering sculpted abs, and reached for his phone on the counter over my head. “Paul,” he said instead of hello. His brows scrunched. “When?” Silence. Further scrunching. “Where?” He stood and stuffed his legs into his jeans, the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. “On my way.” I gathered my clothes, and was pulling on my own jeans when he said, “Cade wrecked his car.” I froze, naked from the waist up, and blinked at Devlin. He bent, and when he stood, he had my bra in hand. Numbly, I accepted it. “Is he okay?” The pit of my stomach burned in warning. “It’s bad,” he said quietly. My racing heart skidded into my chest wall. Memories of the night I was in the car wreck, the night Joshua died, rained down over me. The eerie silence. The fear preventing me from

pulling in a full breath as I wrestled with my seatbelt. I put on my bra, my eyes unfocused on my surroundings. My shirts were stuffed into my hand next. I managed to pull on the tank top, but when I tried to fix my inside-out long-sleeved shirt, I burst into tears. Devlin took the shirt from my hands and my vision became a sea of black when he pulled it over my head. I threaded my arms through the sleeves, my face wet, my nose running. He sat at a chair at the kitchen table and hauled me into his lap. With the pads of his fingers, he brushed the tears from my cheeks, then pushed my hair aside. “Rena,” he whispered, so softly, I could hear how much he cared for me in those two spoken syllables. His face went wonky as my eyes pooled with tears again. He pulled me closer, palming my head. I dropped my cheek onto his solid shoulder and sniffled. “He’s alive.” His voice was gruff but tender at the same time. “Okay.” My voice was watery and not stable at all. “I’ll drop you at home.” “I’m going.” No way could I go home alone after this news. “Baby.” The word was soft, but his hold was firm. I lifted my head. “I want to.” He frowned. “I’m going,” I insisted, getting frustrated. With a sigh of acceptance, he muttered, “Okay. Call Tasha.” “But she and Cade hate each other.” If Tasha’s reaction to him at the party was any indicator. “They don’t,” he said, and his voice held the slightest bit of amusement. My tears were drying, my cheeks beginning to cool. “I’m pretty sure they do.” “Pretty sure they don’t, sweetheart.” He tweaked my chin. I liked being on his lap, being called sweetheart, being consoled. “Call her.” This time I didn’t argue. I slid off his lap and stood. “Your shoe’s in the sink.” “Seriously?” I blinked, stunned. “We’re wild, baby.” This earned me a full-fledged smile. A blinding flash of white against his tanned skin. At his disheveled hair and crinkled blue eyes, I smiled back. Devlin swatted my butt as I crossed the kitchen. And despite the situation and the fact I should be more concerned about Cade than myself at the moment, Devlin’s words hooked into me and didn’t let go. We’re wild, baby. After years of being as dry as toast, I liked that I was once again wild. Becoming more myself. With that warm thought curling in my chest, I dug my phone out of my purse and called Tash.

Devlin Mercy Glen’s waiting room was both dark and dead. I watched Rena closely as the elevator rode up to the fourth floor. For a girl who’d seen her boyfriend die in a car accident, she was relatively okay with coming to the hospital to see a guy who’d been in a car accident. Her rigid spine and straight-ahead stare didn’t stop me from pulling her against me. Then those dark eyes found mine. I kissed her, only briefly. There was no heat under it, just the gentle pressure and confirmation that I’d do anything to make sure she stayed safe. Including walking away from the bookie who’d become like a father to me over the years. I hadn’t told her yet, and now wasn’t the time. I clasped her hand and watched the numbers ascend until the doors slid open. I hoped Tasha wasn’t one of these perpetually late people who showed up forty-five minutes past when she was supposed to, because I sensed Rena would need someone who knew her back when. We stepped off the elevator, and Sonny, of all people, sat in the waiting room, magazine in his lap and steaming Styrofoam cup in one hand. He looked up when I walked in, no doubt catching my expression—which clearly read, What the hell? A blonde paced the floor, dressed like a rich girl, but not, as Cade had hinted, like a slut. She wore a pair of shiny brown boots with tall socks sticking out of the tops, and a patterned red dress. Her outfit, her hair, and her makeup screamed privilege. Tasha was Rena’s height, and her face melted when she spotted us. I let loose Rena’s hand and she practically ran to her friend, hugging her tight. When she pulled away, Tash brushed my girl’s hair off her face in a similar way I’d done earlier. “Reen, are you okay?” I heard her ask. “I’m okay.” Her eyes found mine, and a small beat passed between us. I wasn’t sure if it was gratitude or something deeper, but it made me feel certain. After years of bobbing untethered, it was damn nice to feel certain. Sonny abandoned his magazine but held fast to his coffee. He came to me and I took a generous step away from the girls. “Paul’s in with him,” he said. “Cade isn’t going to have to have surgery.” “Okay.” I wasn’t sure of much, but this sounded like a good thing. “Why are you here?” I couldn’t imagine a scenario where Paul would have called him. Rather than answer, he gestured for me to follow. At the nurses’ station he announced, “This is Caden Wilson’s brother.” Well, Sonny was informed, wasn’t he? The nurse gave me a once-over, then said, almost reluctantly, “You can go in.” I was equally reluctant. Hospitals weren’t my favorite. The thought of tubes and hissing machines and Cade wrapped in bandages was even less appealing. But this wasn’t about me. It was a shift I hadn’t realized I’d made until I took a step toward the hallway. Rena, I

realized. She’d made me begin to think of someone other than myself. I eyed the signs on the wall, one set going to the left, the others to the right. “Four-fourteen,” Sonny called out. Over his shoulder, Rena watched me. Tasha’s arm was looped in hers. She was okay, which was the most important thing to me. Someone else as my priority was also new. I liked it. I turned down the corridor, having no idea what I’d find in room 414. What I found was Paul, arms crossed over his chest, mouth pulled tight. Cade was bandaged in several places—his head, his arm, one of his feet, and there were tubes stuck in his nose. Oxygen, I assumed. I mirrored Paul’s stance, tightening my arms over my chest. Small cuts, likely from the breaking windshield, dotted Cade’s cheek. His eyes were closed, the machine monitoring his heart beeping at steady intervals. My chest clenched at seeing him lying there, unconscious. Hurt. The thin pale blue hospital gown that opened in the back made him look helpless, and made me feel it. I’d barely tamped down the nausea roiling my stomach when Paul slid me an angry gaze. “You gave him Sonny’s number.” I had. No arguing that truth. Cade must have gone to pay Paul’s debts. “Sonny said he had a lot of cash riding on the race,” Paul said, his voice wobbly. The race? I blinked. “They blamed black ice.” He was looking at his son again, looking through him. “I blame you.” My chest seized as my mind pieced together what now seemed very obvious. Sonny. The street race. Cade. Paul’s debt. Cade had street raced before. He was good. His car was built to win. If he didn’t have the money to pay his father’s debts, he would have bet on himself. And Sonny let him do it. “Son of a bitch.” I headed for the door, down the hallway, and into the waiting room. I was going to shake Sonny Laurence until his teeth rattled. What the fuck had he done? When I got to the waiting room, he was once again lounging in a chair. I stalked over, seething, fists curled. “Did he bet?” I asked, my voice bow-tight with anger. “He did.” His relaxed posture—legs out and crossed at the ankles—only served to stoke my anger. I didn’t know it was possible to literally see red until the color slashed across my field of vision. “I swear to—” I lunged but was stopped by two very large, very dark brown hands on my upper arms. A look over my shoulder confirmed the man who grabbed me was Nat, his face a pudgy still life. His voice was even when he spoke. “Easy.” I shook off his meaty grip, but continued standing over Sonny. “You let him bet on himself to pay Paul’s debt.” “Devlin?” Rena stood just off to my left, her hands clasped in worry. I held out a hand to stay her. I wasn’t done with Sonny. “He came to pay you and you took advantage.” He stayed silent. Nat folded his massive arms over an even more massive chest, his face

blank. “Does the money mean that much to you?” I leaned over Sonny and a shadow fell across the floor as Nat advanced toward me. But before I wound up in an adjoining room with Cade, Paul appeared, a nurse chasing behind him. “Her.” Paul pointed to Tasha. Tasha’s wide blue eyes blinked. “Me?” I took a step closer to her, feeling protective simply because she was Rena’s friend. Rena wrapped her hands around my forearm. It felt good to have her there. To have her, period. Between a life with her or Sonny, I had chosen wisely. Paul pointed a frustrated finger at the nurse. “This one is talking gibberish. Something about his speech. Something about motor delays.” His voice cracked on the word. His eyes went to Tasha. “You said you were a nurse.” “Physical therapist.” Tasha glanced at Rena. “I was trying to comfort him before he went in to see Cade.” “Immediate family only,” the nurse argued, clearly frustrated. “If you don’t let her in—” Paul started, his face going flame red. “She’s Cade’s fiancée,” Sonny said with a smile. “Surely you can let her in since the wedding is in a few weeks.” He shrugged and winked. “Bend the rules a little.” Tasha looked aghast, but only for a second, then she nodded tightly. “I think Paul…er…my future father-in-law would prefer I heard what you had to say about Cade’s condition.” The nurse didn’t believe a word of it. Her brown hair was frazzled, her eyes tired. The look on her face suggested she didn’t appreciate us making her long night even longer. “She’s very good at what she does,” Rena said. Her standing in defense of her friend made me proud. I put a proprietary hand on her hip and pulled her against me. The nurse shook her head at the gaggle of people clogging the waiting room, all here for Cade. “It’s turning into a circus out here. I suggest those of you who don’t need to be here leave immediately.” She shot an icy glare at me, then gestured to Tasha. “Come with me, future Mrs. Wilson.” Oh yeah, her tone said she definitely didn’t believe. Once the nurse huffed off, with Paul and Tasha in her wake, Sonny turned to my girl. “I’m Sonny.” “Don’t talk to her.” I clutched Rena tighter. “You’re the reason he’s walking away,” he told her. “You keep him away. Guys like us need a good woman.” “Sorry?” she asked, clearly confused. I shot him a fierce look of warning. He ignored it. “Figured it was because of a woman,” he told me. “Stay away from her. And Cade,” I added. Before I turned to leave, I tacked on, “And Paul.” “It was Tex,” Sonny said to my back. I turned slowly, too curious to ignore him. “Cade came to the pizza parlor to pay Paul’s debt and I said no. I’ve made enough sons pay for their fathers’ sins,” he said with a meaningful look at me.

Rena’s soft touch glided up my arm, and I held her closer. “On his way out,” Sonny continued, “Cade said he was going to Tex.” Son of a bitch. “Tex would’ve taken that bet and never paid Cade a dime. Then both he and his dad would be in hock with that asshole.” He was right. “You knew that, too. Without your help, what would Paul have done?” He knew. He knew I’d ripped him off. “It was the mention of Tex that made me change my mind. I let Cade bet with me instead. I did what I did to help him.” Sonny pressed his lips together. I believed him. “So did I,” I said, hating the uncertainty in my voice. I sent Nat a glance, wondering if he’d come after me when I least expected it. Sonny’s posture was relaxed when he said, “I know. Proud of you.” I…didn’t know what to do with that. My face warmed. “It was an accident. Cade bet on himself to lose, and when he popped the wheel around the corner and tapped the breaks, he skidded out.” I believed him about that, too. Sonny may be a glorified thief, but he was an honorable one. He dipped his chin at Rena. “You be good to my boy, yeah?” She didn’t answer, and I didn’t blame her. In the elevator, she came to me, mumbling something about fate being cruel. I didn’t have a valid argument to that very true statement, so I folded her against my chest and rested my chin on her head, thinking how good it felt to have her there. How good she was for me. I thought about what Sonny had done for Cade. Let him earn the money so he didn’t feel like a degenerate shit. How he sat now in the waiting room watching over the kid he’d put in a perilous position. I wondered if he’d pay the hospital bill. Probably. Then I thought of Paul and wondered if his son’s possible physical setbacks would make Paul turn himself around. That, or it was all for nothing, and Paul would continue being a gambler whose losses outweighed his wins. And then I thought of Rena, and the way she fit against me like a missing puzzle piece. Like she’d been cut and sanded to lock into my chest. Like she’d been created to be mine.

Chapter 16

Rena After driving through the mini-blizzard blanketing downtown Ridgeway, and parking on the top floor of the garage, Devlin and I found ourselves in another elevator, snuggling close again. He couldn’t stay away from me tonight, and truth be told, I didn’t want him to. I was feeling fragile, and his closeness was keeping me from cracking open. He cupped my face and kissed me, his tongue dancing in my mouth while his hair tickled my cheek. By the time the doors slid open on his floor and he pulled away, I was panting, out of breath. And he hadn’t touched me below the shoulders. Hand in hand, another habit I never wanted to end, we entered his apartment. He shut and locked the door, slid the chain into place, all while holding on to me. “Want me to get the lamp?” Other than the lights from downtown faintly illuminating one corner, his place was dark. He turned to me, his face in shadow. “Leave them off.” Those three words made every nerve in my body tingle, the low timbre of his voice etching into my skin. “I made you a promise.” He slipped the scarf from my neck. The knit brushed against my nape, goose bumps tracking down both my arms as he dropped it to my feet. “Well, then, you should keep it.” I tried to sound sexy, but my voice trembled. His fingers went to the oversize buttons on my coat and fed them through the wool. He parted my coat and put warm hands on my waist. Everything about the way he was touching me, the way he moved closer and pressed our bodies together without kissing me, was different than the way things usually were between us. This wasn’t our usual ravenous, frantic tearing of clothing. Gently, he tipped my chin and closed his lips over mine. Trailing his fingers down my neck, he continued seducing me. The tip of his tongue darted out to touch mine tentatively as he played with the neck of my shirt. I arched toward him, moaning deep in my throat. He tasted incredible, and my entire body vibrated with need. He palmed my breast over my shirt and my kneecaps loosened. I latched onto his coat to pull him closer, but he maintained his distance. “No, Rena.” His breath sifted over my lips. He thumbed my nipple, and though it was over a shirt and a tank top and a bra, I jerked as if he’d touched my bare skin. “I want you.” I tightened my grip on his coat. “I want you, sweetheart.” His low voice ticked down my spine, almost a warning. This was a different Devlin. Was I ready for the Devlin he was going to show me tonight? My heart pounded, harder and harder until I was sure he could hear it. “But we’re doing this the right way,” he murmured, melting me with another soft kiss. His hand left my body and closed over my fingers. He guided me through the living room

and the hallway, letting me loose long enough to take off his coat and drop it on a chair in the corner of the room. His bedroom was dark, but I could make out the gargantuan bed in the shadowed corner. The blinds were drawn, but my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I made out the outline of his body as he approached me, his pace painstakingly slow. Intentional. He stalked me like a predator his prey. I was willing prey. He hooked his index finger in my waistband and pulled. I went to him, my palms resting on his hard chest. The heat of his body electrified my fingertips. When I spread my hands over his pecs and slid south, he stopped me with two words. “Hands down.” I obeyed, dropping my arms to my sides. His hand tipped my neck and his open mouth covered my pulse. The kiss was drugging, and my world went black when my eyes slid shut. His tongue slipped along my throat, and down my neck while his hands beneath my shirts burned up my bare skin. He released me long enough to toss my shirts aside. I rested my arms at the back of his neck and played with his hair. He backed away, but I held fast. “Hands down,” he instructed, this time firmer. “Don’t make me tie you up.” I pictured Devlin lashing me to the big bed behind me and, oh, the throbbing between my legs intensified. I was instantly wet, wanting. I bit down on my lip and squirmed, earning a dry laugh from him. “What have you done to me, Rena?” Him? What had he done to me? I’d had one boyfriend before him, and here he was talking me into light BDSM with hardly any effort. “You ruined me,” he said almost to himself. With a flick of his fingers, my bra was undone and the straps sliding off my shoulders. “You’re all I think about. The only one I want.” “I am?” I couldn’t fathom it. Being wanted so singularly by this man. It was heady, the concept of being wanted as much as I wanted him. I hadn’t yet taken my hands from his hair, and he tugged at my wrists. “What did I say?” In the sparse light, I watched one dark eyebrow lift in challenge. I dropped my arms. Bra gone, he undid the stud on my jeans next, drawing the zipper down at a torturously slow pace. My nipples peaked in the brisk air. An appreciative moan sounded low in his throat before his mouth covered my breast. He didn’t suck hard or rake his teeth like before, laving my skin with the flat of his tongue and pulling me deep into his mouth while I writhed. I grabbed his hair, not caring what punishment lay before me for not keeping my hands to myself. He couldn’t ask me to not touch him when he made it impossible for me to stand on my own. Releasing my nipple, he lifted his head and guided me toward the bed. The backs of my thighs bumped the mattress and I sat clumsily. Devlin didn’t seem to care about my lack of grace. He had one thing on his mind. Worked toward that sole mission, he yanked my jeans to my knees, made quick work of my boots, and had me naked inside of five seconds. “Scoot up. Head on the pillows,” he instructed. I scooted up a thick black comforter. He took off his sweater by the neck, then proceeded to undress so slowly, I was tempted to

touch myself while I watched. That was how crazy he made me. I admired his wide chest, the six-pack abs as his stomach tightened. I would have liked to enjoy the view of his powerful thighs flexing while he disentangled his jeans from his legs, but my gaze was locked on his penis. Strong and powerful, even at half-mast. “Spread your legs,” he commanded. I jerked my eyes up and met his wicked grin. “You’re going to want to hold on to the rungs of that headboard.” He was beautiful and evil at the same time. And I was under his power. I clasped the cold iron over my head and parted my knees in invitation. On his stomach between my legs, he grasped my thighs, and pulled me wider. When his heated breath coasted over me, my leg muscles tightened. When his tongue touched my clit, I nearly launched off the bed. He held my thighs and locked the pace at leisurely. After a few minutes of gentle ministrations, my body relaxed, my legs loosened, and my back melted into the bedspread. My moans went from soft and slow to feverish. When my knees threatened to close, he kept them wide, picked up the pace, and repeatedly stroked the throbbing heartbeat between my legs. I went over, calling out his name as every part of me tensed and released repeatedly. If there was a single muscle left in my body, I couldn’t have found it with a map. I felt the bed shift as he crawled closer. “You deserve a medal for that,” I said, exhausted in the best way possible. “Oh yeah?” I heard the happiness in his voice. It matched the happiness in mine. “Well, I’ll take the silver because you, sweetheart, take the gold.” He kissed the side of my mouth as I hummed, satisfied beyond belief. “You can let go now.” I hadn’t realized…My hands still clung to the iron posts over my head. When I let go, I had to flex my fingers to return the feeling to them. “I take that back. Maybe I get the gold.” He leaned past me to rummage in the nightstand drawer. My laugh, so easy, so light, was almost startling to my ears. It’s like we were in a secret pocket of time in an alternate universe. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 3:33. I heard when the numbers on the clock were the same, you were supposed to make a wish. I couldn’t wish for myself since I was already exactly where I wanted to be. So I closed my eyes and made a wish for Cade that sounded more like a silent prayer. Devlin rolled on a condom and lowered his body over mine. I started to reach for his neck and hesitated. “Can I touch you now?” His chest and belly brushed against mine, followed by the press of his erection at my entrance. “You’d better,” he said with a low growl. I locked my arms around his neck and he pushed forward, entering me, filling me. A pleased gasp exited my throat, followed by a cry that started out as his name but faded into an inarticulate moan. I was overcome. And so in love with him it hurt. I hadn’t meant to fall for him. But my heart could not be separated from my body. He pushed in to the hilt as his hair brushed against my forehead. “Say it, Rena.”

There was a slight panic in the center of my rib cage, like I was half afraid he’d read my mind and was challenging me to tell him the very thing I knew he couldn’t hear. Then he clarified. “Say my name.” He thrust in then out oh-so slowly. I let out a deep breath of relief, my body tingling and tightening around him. “Say it,” came the repeated demand as his fingers wound in my hair. I held him closer, clenched my innermost muscles, and put my mouth against his ear. “Devlin.” A tremor climbed his spine and branched across his back. I felt him shudder against me. “Rena.” He thrust again, and again I breathed into his ear. “Devlin.” The words “I love you” were implied. I felt them. It was as real as the part of his body gliding into mine now. Our tongues mated as he drove me higher and higher with each pivot of his hips. I focused on his face in the dim room when he broke the kiss to take a breath. His eyebrows were pulled together, eyes shut, lips parted over clenched teeth. He said something that may have been “God,” but it sounded reverent rather than blasphemous. I put my hands on his face and his eyes popped open, his chin dropping, his focus unwaveringly on me. What I saw in his eyes floored me. Naked vulnerability. I didn’t want to lose him. Not for a second. “Look at me when you come,” I instructed, holding his jaw. He wet his lips. “You first.” He pushed into me harder. Deeper. I cried out. “Eyes on me, Rena,” came his calm command. My name rolling off his lips was as good as any three-word pronouncement. I focused on his dark blues and held on to him as fireworks exploded between us. His lips on mine, he continued pumping into me. I wrapped my ankles around his back and held tight while his orgasm climbed his body. When he came, he was shuddering, tense. And looking right at me. His breath expelled, eyes clenched, and my name rang out like morning church bells. Then I knew. He belonged to me.

Chapter 17

Devlin The moment Rena and I had maneuvered beneath my comforter, we’d fallen asleep. The kind of dead sleep that seismic earthquakes didn’t interrupt. Though the earth had shaken. At least for me it had. Her hair was in a tangle around her head, her mouth open as she pulled in a sound that was almost a snore. An open-mouthed snore. Suppressing laughter, I elbowed her arm. She stirred, emitting an incoherent little mmph. “Hey.” It’s like the damn smile was glued to my face. How had she come to mean so much to me so quickly? She mumbled something, and then curled into a ball, snuggling into her pillow. I enjoyed the novelty of having her here. Of sharing my bed with someone. Of not being alone. Warmth unfurled in my chest despite the fact my arm was freezing in the cool air of the bedroom. Eyes still shut, Rena asked, “Why are you awake?” Her grouchy-slash-sleepy voice was cuter than her waking one. I shook my head at my thoughts. I had morphed into some sort of romantic sap overnight, apparently. “Because the entire bedroom is filled with sunshine,” I answered. Her lashes lifted and fluttered until she pinned me with bourbon-colored eyes. My heart lurched like a drunken hobo. She might be more beautiful this morning than I’d ever seen her. Her petal-soft lips parted, and then I knew. There was no “might” about it. Rena, in this moment, was more beautiful than ever. It didn’t take much to realize what had changed. Me. This morning when I woke and found her sleeping next to me, my entire future stretched out in my mind. For once I couldn’t see the end, didn’t want to, and had no idea where the path might lead. But I knew where it didn’t lead. I wouldn’t end up like Sonny—washed up with no one to keep me company. “Helping” people while breaking the law. I couldn’t go back to that kind of life. Not when I knew what waited for me. I palmed Rena’s arm, stroked up to her shoulder, and smoothed her hair back. “We did my second favorite activity in this bed last night.” “Hmm.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in thought. “Did it involve me holding on to the headboard?” Keeping my expression deadpan, I said, “We did my third favorite activity in this bed last night.” “What’s that?” Her light laughter made me feel ten feet tall. “Sleep,” I answered. There was a moment where we just smiled and looked into each other’s eyes. Until her

smile faded. “Sonny said you walked away.” My turn to frown. I didn’t want to talk about Sonny. About any of it. Not while I was still trying to figure out how I felt about everything. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Are you in danger?” “Don’t worry about me.” I started to get up, feeling pressed by the weight of a conversation that hadn’t started yet. It’s the whole “feelings” thing. I didn’t share what I was thinking or feeling. And I didn’t want her to spend a second worrying about me. This was what I’d gotten her into, though, wasn’t it? I’d inserted her into this mess. Without it, she’d be— “Try.” She stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Just try not to run away when emotions get deep.” Was she not paying attention last night? I’d been drowning in emotion. Drowning in her. And I’d stayed curled around her in this bed all night. And all morning. I studied her glittering brown eyes. “It’s cold out there. Stay under here with me.” She wiggled closer and I gave in, crawling beneath the blankets and facing her from my pillow. I was as ready as I’d ever be for this discussion. “You left Sonny,” she tried again. I swallowed and forced my answer through numb lips. “Yeah.” She ran her fingers along my chest, and I pulled in a deep breath, covering her hand with mine. “For me?” She’d whispered the words as if she wasn’t able to say them any louder. I wanted to tell her the truth. Yes, for her. For us. For a future involving the two of us working side by side, building the life my parents never got to live. The life I never imagined I would be able to live. I wanted to tell her. I just…couldn’t. “What now?” she whispered again. “Now that you don’t work with Sonny.” “I work at Oak & Sage. I move out. I live my life.” “Move out?” “This is his place.” I would miss the high ceilings. Her fingers continued stroking my chest. She was turning something over in her head. “Where will you live?” I faced her. Begged her with my eyes not to make the suggestion I thought I saw there. I decided not to answer. “I’m going back to the hospital,” I said. “I’ll drop you at home.” “I’ll go with you.” I pushed her dark brown hair from her face, cupped her jaw. “No, baby.” “Yes, baby,” she argued, and hearing her call me “baby” made me smile. She was so damn cute. “I’m going with you and you can’t stop me.” I could have, but the determination in her eyes—and the shake of her ass as she made her way across my bedroom—made it impossible for me to say no. So I didn’t.

Rena After Devlin washed me from head to toe in the shower, and brought me to orgasm no fewer than two times, we drove to the hospital to see Cade. I texted Tasha, who surprised me by admitting she was already there. When he and I stepped off the elevator, Tash met us and we followed her to the waiting room. “Coffee?” Devlin asked. “Sure,” I said. “Tasha?” She hesitated, as if deciding whether or not she trusted him to get her coffee, then said, “Uh, sure.” With a nod, he left us and walked to the coffee cart at the back of the room. Other than an elderly couple sitting on the opposite row of chairs flipping through magazines, and the low volume of the television airing The Price Is Right, the waiting room was quiet. Tasha and I sat. The second my butt hit the chair, my best friend said, “Devlin is hot.” It was the wrong place and time to smile, but I did. “Seems like he’s a bit more than your boy toy, though.” “Yeah,” I admitted. “It seems so.” He returned with two coffees, creamed and sugared by the looks of them, a moment later. Tasha accepted hers with a soft Thanks and I accepted mine, and his hand on my neck. I’d pulled my hair up and it was still wet. Devlin’s scarf was looped around my neck and keeping me quite warm. So was the hand. “Any news?” he asked Tasha. She shook her head. “Same as last night. You guys weren’t here when I came out.” She looked at me. “Do you know?” “If you didn’t tell me, I don’t know,” I said. We hadn’t heard from Paul or Sonny, or Nat for that matter. Remembering the sheer size and girth of Nat made it almost comical that I’d once accused him of being Dev’s “girlfriend.” “Cade’s got a broken foot, a few broken ribs, and a sprained wrist,” Tasha explained. “He’ll need physical therapy for his injuries, but nothing too extensive. They’re suggesting roundthe-clock care at first. Help with showers and walking and maybe even eating.” “Eating?” Devlin spoke the word in my head. We exchanged worried glances, then turned back to Tasha. “The collision with the fire hydrant wasn’t head-on, but to the side. The brain injury he suffered was different from a head-on collision.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I sound like a textbook. Bottom line is, the doctors are concerned about his brain. He had a nonrupturing aneurysm, which is good, but it may affect his speech.”

I gasped. Devlin cursed under his breath. “The aneurism may have caused him to slow down in certain areas. We don’t know yet, since he’s not awake enough to really test it, but communication might be more difficult for him than it used to be.” She gave us a wan smile. “And he had quite a mouth on him.” “Yeah,” Dev chuffed next to me. His hand slipped from my neck, and I moved the hand that wasn’t holding my coffee to his knee and squeezed. “Cade might not be able to talk?” I didn’t want to believe it. He was our age. I couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. “The doctors think he’ll be able to talk, but it may be more difficult than before; his mind might be slower. He may process words in his brain at the same pace, but they’ll be more difficult to move to his mouth, and he may not say what he means to. He’ll have to think extra hard about his responses…for a while.” She looked sad when she added, “Or for good.” Devlin’s hand returned to my neck and I kept my palm on his leg. We sat, quiet, for a long, long time, until the elevator doors opened and Baron, of all people, came striding into the waiting room.

Devlin Rena went from comforting me to sitting ramrod straight in her seat. I followed her eye line to the cop ambling across the room. I was reeling from the news about Cade. Yeah, we hadn’t always gotten along, but I had thought until just now his injuries were limited to the physical. A physical injury, even one resulting in a permanent limp, seemed more palatable than a brain injury…than his not being able to speak. I thought of him being in college, majoring in law. He’d been on his way to becoming someone. Meanwhile, I was no one, contributing to the advancement of the underbelly of society, and I was fine. Seemed unfair. “Devlin,” Rena whispered. Her eyes were still on the cop. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Rena. He’s probably here to see one of his buddies.” I gave her neck a gentle squeeze. “Relax.” “No, you don’t unders—” “Rena?” My head shot up and I met the eyes of the officer now standing at the side of the waiting room. He was around my age, with reddish hair, and I knew in an instant why Rena had said my name and why this guy had said hers. Her words from not long ago echoed in my skull. He’s the nephew I told you about. He’s twenty-six, a police officer. He’s responsible. And nice. He ate my mom’s terrible pie and she loved him. I bet he pays his taxes. All of his taxes. And probably rarely, if ever, does anything illegal. “Baron,” she breathed. Yep. I was right. I didn’t like it. Not a bit. “What are you doing here?” she asked him. “Investigation took a turn. I’m meeting someone.” So this was the guy that was trying to be Rena’s Mr. Perfect. I slid my arm around her back, my hold becoming more proprietary. Baron watched this, his eye ticking as if he didn’t like it. I liked that he didn’t like it. “Um, this is, uh…Roy’s nephew,” she said to me. He gave me a perfunctory glance, not bothering with a further introduction. Then his eyes went to her. “What are you doing here?” “Visiting a friend. This is Tasha, my best friend. Tasha, this is Baron.” I watched Tasha turn her eyes up at Baron and waited for further proof that she was what Cade had accused her of being. But she didn’t bat her eyelashes or swoon or look the least bit interested in Baron—though I spotted his male appreciation of her long, long legs in her short skirt.

“Pleasure,” Tasha said, her gaze a polite two-second glance. Baron didn’t look happy about this. “Is Roy working the investigation with you?” Rena asked. “Yeah, he’s at the station….” His eyes flitted to the side and he said, “Excuse me.” I looked over to see Sonny leaving Cade’s room, strolling to the nurse’s desk, and Baron making a beeline as if Sonny had a target painted on his chest. “Shit,” I muttered, standing up. “Laurence,” Baron said, addressing Sonny. The nurse looked up. Sonny turned, eyebrows raised. Rena stood beside me, her hands wrapping around my wrist. “Sonny.” I moved toward him, towing Rena with me. His eyes went from Baron to me, and then to Rena. “Hey, Devlin. It’s okay, the officer and I are…friends.” “Devlin,” Baron repeated and I tried to decide if he said this with familiarity or recognition. I glared at Sonny. “What the hell’s going on?” “We can’t discuss an ongoing invest—” “Ah, buh, buh,” Sonny tsked, waving Baron off and putting him in his place. Sonny turned to me. “We’re taking down Tex.” “Tex?” Rena asked. “Tex is a big bad bookie, sweetheart.” Sonny spared her a smile. The puzzle linked together in an instant. “You’re ratting.” “I’m buying insurance,” Sonny corrected. “I need you not to discuss anything further with Devlin,” Baron said, and it sounded like he was glad to get to say it. “Rena, darlin’, this isn’t the place for you.” He gestured to me with the tilt of his head. “I recommend you stay away from this guy if he’s involved with any of this.” “He’s not.” Her tone was sharp, her body rigid. Her hand slid down my arm and clasped my hand. The part wanting to kiss her for her loyalty to me warred with the part of me wanting her safe above all else. Unfortunately, Baron was right. I’d been “involved” with Sonny and his business for years. I didn’t know what that meant now that the cops were involved. It could mean I was in physical danger from Tex’s guys. If so, Rena in my bed wouldn’t do. Damn. I knew what I had to do. I dropped Rena’s hand. “He’s right. You need to keep your distance.” “No, he’s not,” she argued, clasping my hand again. “You’re out.” God. It hurt to have to do this. I loosened my grip. “Yeah.” I looked down at Rena. “But he’s still right.” All the crap I’d tried to avoid was surfacing, right here in the middle of the hospital. Cade couldn’t talk. Sonny was a rat. The cops—including Rena’s mom’s boyfriend—might know who I am, and what I’d done. I could go to jail. My dream of a future with Rena, working at Oak & Sage, building a life together began to fragment. The walls were closing in on me and there was nowhere to run.

I faced Baron. “What do you have on me?” He crossed his arms, a smug smile on his face. “Come to the station and Roy can let you know.” “Baron—” Rena started, as if she could talk me out of trouble. “He’s got nothing on you, Dev, because there’s nothing to have.” Sonny gestured to a group of chairs on the other side of the waiting room. “Maybe we could get away from this nice lady,” he tipped his head to the nurse, “and talk elsewhere.” Tasha joined our little group. Good. Rena had someone here for her. “Can you give her a ride home?” I asked Tasha. “No!” Rena’s eyebrows slammed down, her mouth dropping open. I hated to do it, but it’s what needed to be done. “Yes.” I put my palm on her jaw. “I need to distance myself from you.” “No.” Her fragile voice cut into me like a shard of glass. “It’s for the best, Rena,” Baron chimed in. I turned on him and got close. “Stay away from her.” He reached for his belt and the variety of weapons hanging there. “That a threat?” “Nope.” Our stare-down lasted only a few seconds. Baron blinked first, then without looking back, I walked away. I heard Rena call my name and fought every instinct to turn around. To take her with me. I stepped inside the elevator and kept my eyes on my shoes. As the doors began to close I heard Tasha say, “Let him go.” Right then, I became a big Tasha fan.

Chapter 18

Rena Oak & Sage was swamped with diners. Melinda hadn’t shown up for her shift tonight, leaving me with two extra tables on the other side of the restaurant. So much for pocketing extra tips. I’d been spread so thin, I would be lucky to get ten percent instead of the minimum fifteen or the good-natured twenty. Devlin, his bruises faded to almost invisible, was dressed in a dark suit and blue tie and worked the front of the house. This was the first night I’d seen him since he abandoned me at the hospital the day he found out Baron and Sonny were working together to bring down Ridgeway’s “big bad” bookie. Devlin’s eyes focused everywhere but on me since I clocked in. I began to wonder if he’d ever speak to me again. My texts went unanswered, and he refused to talk to me, and since I had a scrap of pride left, I decided not to text or try to talk to him again. And I sure wasn’t going to show up at his apartment. Tasha and I had hung out almost exclusively for the last three days. Tony dumped her when he found out she was hanging around the hospital “for another dude,” and honestly, I’d never seen her so angry at him. I half thought they might never get together again. That was the silver lining of this mess, I supposed. The hours passed in a blur, me rushing around, and Devlin rushing around, and him avoiding me as much as I avoided him. Just as I was cashing out my tables—two at the same time, as fate would have it—a new server named Veronica burst into the kitchen. “You guys! The cops are here!” Murmuring voices lifted on the air a split second before every server in the kitchen ran for the front. I waited for my credit card receipt to print—which seemed to take an eternity— dropped it off at table 9, and cut across the bar to find Roy and Baron talking to Devlin. Roy stood, his back straight, his mustache-blanketed lip unsmiling. He held up a hand to silence Baron right when I crept closer to see what I could hear. Roy’s deep voice carried. “…appreciate any information you could give us.” Devlin crossed his arms. “I’m running a restaurant. Eat or leave.” My heart hit my shoes. Surely Roy hadn’t come to arrest Devlin. I walked past the hostess station and stood next to him. “What’s going on?” Devlin glared down at me, a minor improvement from his ignoring me completely. Baron took a step closer to me, but Devlin turned his glare on Baron, unfolded his arms, and wrapped one hand around my apron. A second later he tugged me so I was flush against him. They had a staring contest while I stayed still, ignoring every temptation to wrap my arms around Devlin. It felt good to be close to him. To be touched by him. I’d missed him. Roy raised a palm. “Okay. Officer Monroe, I’ll meet you in the car,” he told Baron. I could see Baron wanted to argue but didn’t. Smart.

Devlin let go of my apron. “Get back to work,” he commanded, but his eyes were asking. Stubbornly, I didn’t move. Roy’s eyes went to Devlin. “Nothin’ from you, huh?” Devlin shook his head. “And her?” Roy pointed to me. I frowned. I didn’t like being referred to as a “her” by the man who would likely someday be my stepfather. “I don’t want Officer Monroe anywhere near her.” Devlin curled his lip. “I can help that along if you do one thing.” One of Roy’s thick eyebrows lifted. “I’m not a rat,” Devlin said. “Not that.” Roy’s voice was a low warning. “I want you to leave her be.” I tried to argue with a muted “Roy!” but Devlin interrupted. “You got it.” I tore my eyes from Roy’s face to see Devlin, his cold gaze locked on mine. “You’re fired, Lewis,” he said. “Cash your bank out with Chet and leave.” My mouth dropped open as my heart tore in half. “Officer.” Devlin nodded at Roy, then walked away. Through the fuzzy veil that was my brain, I heard him ask Veronica to take my tables. Chet approached and took my apron. Roy offered to follow me back and wait while I cashed out. I did, unfeeling from head to toe, and a little afraid of what I’d feel when the adrenaline wore off. I was out of a job, out of a boyfriend. Devlin had dumped me like I was nothing. Then again, he had dumped me long before Roy made his request to “leave me be.” We really were over. Roy put my coat over my shoulders and walked me out the back door. Baron was waiting in the cop car. Roy must have radioed him to pull around while I was waiting on Chet to cash me out. I balanced. I made forty-eight dollars. The last forty-eight dollars I’d ever make at Oak & Sage because I was fired. Fired. I felt betrayed on top of everything else. “Keys,” Roy said, and his hand appeared in front of me. I fished my keys from my coat pocket and dropped them into his callused palm. His fingers closed around them. To Baron, he said, “I’m driving Rena home. Follow us.” “I can drive her,” Baron offered. Proving he was good to his word, Roy said, “No, you can’t.” Roy drove me home, Baron followed, and once I was ensconced in my apartment they left. And me? I watched the headlights vanish on the road, and then I started to cry. At one point I thought I’d never stop. —

My mother’s tinkling laughter cut into the staring contest I’d been having with the saltshaker for…I don’t even know how long. “Strawberry rhubarb. This time from the store.” She looked over at me, as did Roy, and cleared her throat. “Honey? Why don’t you eat something? You look pale.” I was pale. Pale and more heartsick than I’d known possible. “I’m fine.” My voice was low and flat, not a single peak or valley. My peaks and valleys had gone away when Devlin went away. Not that he’d “gone away.” Technically, he was right down the road, working at Oak & Sage. I hadn’t been back. Where I’d once been under Devlin’s intense blue stare, now I couldn’t take his ambivalence. I’d once feared he’d become my power source, and what might happen to me if he unplugged. Now that fear had been realized. He unplugged and I collapsed in on myself like a robot without a battery pack. “Honey?” Mom’s insistent voice beckoned. I turned my sullen gaze to her. “I came over tonight for one reason.” I pegged Roy with an unforgiving stare. “An update,” he guessed. He swiped his mustache with a napkin, the scraping sound giving me chills. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw my mother clasp her hands together. I could read her thoughts like closed captioning: I can’t believe my daughter dated a criminal! “Devlin’s safe,” Roy said. “Sonny fell on the grenade, and Devlin isn’t someone we’re interested in pursuing.” Devlin was safe. I tried not to react, but relief flooded my limbs. “And Tex?” “Split,” Roy answered. “He’s on the run.” He ate another huge bite of pie. “We’ll get ’im. Paired up with authorities in the tri-state area. We got eyes everywhere.” “And Sonny?” I was curious about the man who had given Devlin so much. “Honey,” my mom repeated, “none of this matters.” She gave me a hopeful smile. “You can return to your normal life now and get away from all of this.” “I love him,” I choked out, a sob catching in my throat. My mother’s face went winter white. “Sonny?” “Devlin, baby,” Roy placed a rugged, wide palm over her arm, comforting her. Hearing Devlin’s name, and the nickname “baby” even though it’d come from Roy and was said to my mother, was like taking a knife to the heart. I wondered if I’d ever not miss him. Maybe. I got through losing Joshua. Only Devlin wasn’t dead. Devlin was just…gone. So if Sonny was detained, Tex in the wind, and Devlin was safe, why hadn’t he called? Why did he continue to push me away? I stood up from the table. “Where are you going?” Mom asked. “Home,” I lied. “Baron’s got guys watching Oak & Sage.” I turned to Roy, my eyes wide. “What for?” “Devlin’s request. To make sure you stay away,” Roy answered. “If he wants you, he’ll contact you.” His bushy eyebrows pulled into a sympathetic arch. “Let it go, darlin’.”

Devlin didn’t want me anywhere near him. Even though I felt as though my knees might buckle, I locked them and remained standing. I refused to cry any more than I had already. Even the memory of losing Joshua paled in the face of the grief I felt now. It was still too fresh—no scar covering the wound. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Honey, sit down.” My mom was trying really hard to comfort me. I didn’t want to be comforted. “I’m going home.” This time it was the truth. I wasn’t going to go near Devlin Calvary. He’d made it clear in every way he didn’t want me. Not any more. “That’s a good move,” Roy agreed. “Take some pie with you, dear.” Since I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and since the pie was store-bought, I agreed.

Chapter 19

Rena I strode into Sarafina’s for a job interview, feeling like a traitor to Lyle Mullins, owner of Craft Palace before it closed. Then I saw him behind one of the registers and I didn’t feel so bad. His normally cheery smile was affixed to his face as he happily informed a customer about the return policy. I guess we’d all climbed into bed with our former competitor. I passed racks of colorful paper, markers, and rubber stamps, but they all looked muted and dull. The cloud of depression hanging over me had skewed my view of life. Like I’d slipped into the same emo world I’d lived in as a prepubescent. All I was missing was a thick mar of eyeliner and dyed black hair. “Rena,” came an insistent voice to my right. Tasha waved from a display of storage boxes. “I’ve said your name like five times.” She gestured to the stacks of pink, black, and turquoise patterned boxes and matching flowers and knickknacks interspersed between. “What do you think?” “Nice.” She dropped her jazz hands and sighed. I couldn’t hide my depression from my best friend, so I hadn’t tried. “It’s been a month, Rena.” Four weeks since Devlin fired me and promised never to see me again. Four weeks. Four weeks of sadness, doubt, loss, and sleeping alone. I’d slept next to him twice. Twice was enough to make my body crave it more. “Do you think he meant it?” I asked Tasha. “Not this again.” She’d been around for these past four weeks. She’d gotten used to my glass-eyed stare, my endless stream of “Why me?” consciousness. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t abandoned me for another friend who wasn’t as much of a downer. “Come on, Reen, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” “Let me ask. One more time.” “Fine. Ask.” She lifted and dropped her arms. “My answer will be the same as the last ten times you asked me this.” I took a breath, and asked. I just needed to hear her affirmation one more time. “Do you think Devlin will stay away for good?” Every sign in the universe read yes. But still I hoped. “No. I don’t think he meant it,” Tasha said. Relief flooded my body, tingling out to my fingers and toes. “I think he was angry. I think he wanted to spare you any more pain. Preserve your chastity or something.” She frowned. “Even though I’m sure there’s no getting it back after all you did together.” “Tasha,” I begged. Thinking of sex with Devlin made my heart feel like it was chipping apart, the pieces blowing away in the wind. “I’m jealous.” She held up her hands. “Sincerely. I’d love to have had the kind of connection

you had, even if I lost it.” I gave her a wounded look. “Temporarily. He won’t stay away,” she reassured me. “I wonder how he is.” I was the one having trouble staying away. I caved and went to his apartment last week. I found the door open and an old white-haired guy inside painting. When he noticed me in the doorway, he said, “Moved out.” “I have no idea where he lives,” I told Tash. She chewed her on her cheek. “I do.” My eyes widened. “Cade ran off his third physical therapist. Paul asked my dad if I could fill in. As a favor.” Paul had saved Tasha’s father from a tax-evasion lawsuit a few years back, but I wondered what this had to do with Devlin. “How’s that going?” I asked instead. She shrugged. “I’ve only worked with him twice.” “I thought you two hated each other.” “It’s just a job, Reen,” she said a tad defensively, followed by, “He’s living with Paul.” “Cade?” “Yes. Also Devlin.” My heart bungeed to my stomach and sprang back to my throat. “Devlin lives with Paul?” “Yep.” “How’s Cade doing?” Tasha erased the gap between us and trained her big blue eyes on me. “That’s not the question you want to ask.” “Has Cade spoken yet?” I pressed, so not ready to discuss Devlin. “Not a word to me. He writes everything down. Or points.” My mind spun. Devlin and Cade living together. There wasn’t a lot of love lost between those two. I couldn’t picture it. “Paul must have to keep them on opposite sides of the house.” “They’re good, actually.” My heart leapt again. I missed Devlin. So, so much. I wondered if he missed me. “Devlin mentioned you.” And I was going to throw up. “Said your name,” Tasha said gently. “What did he say, word for word?” She looked worried. “Word for word?” “Word for word,” I repeated. Tasha had a bad habit of embellishing. Under my scrutiny, she knew better than to lie. “He said, ‘Is that Rena’s car?’ ” She borrowed my vehicle the other day and, apparently, drove it to Paul’s house. “So he didn’t ask about me.” Hiding my disappointment proved impossible. “Not exactly, but he didn’t say your name like he hated you.”

I rubbed my eyebrow with my fingers, feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s go talk to your manager and get me this job.” That’s why I was here, I reminded myself. Gainful employment. My mother paid my rent for the month. I appreciated her help, but it wasn’t a favor I intended to ask for again. “Are you excited?” Tash looped her arms around mine and dragged me toward the back of the store. Soon, her internship would start and she’d be working in her field. Her manager knew this and asked if she knew anyone who might fill her shoes. She did, as it turned out. I happened to fill Tasha’s shoes nicely. “I just want to get this over with and get settled.” But I wouldn’t be settled. I was decidedly unsettled. Especially knowing that Devlin felt no different about me than he had the last time I’d seen him. He was marinating in ambivalence, and I couldn’t breathe without missing him. I should take it as a sign. Give up and move on. But could I?

Devlin I picked up the tray from Cade’s unmade bed where he lounged. He ignored me, playing Call of Duty. I put the tray down on his nightstand, sat on the corner of the bed, and watched the flashing screen for a minute. Then I said, “I did the right thing.” He ignored me. Or pretended to, anyway. “So if you ever decide to open your mouth when Tasha’s around, if you’d let her know that what I did, I did for Rena, I’d appreciate it.” He grunted, out of disagreement, I figured, eyes on his game, face blank. Maybe it was a grunt of disinterest. “She’s better off without me,” I said to the screen. Another grunt, only this one sounded more agreeable. I hated when he was right. “I didn’t know if I’d get sucked down into the Sonny Laurence cesspool at the time,” I continued, defending myself. But then, of course, I hadn’t gotten sucked in. I had avoided the swirling waters altogether. I’d gone to visit Sonny and he’d smiled and assured me he was good, that the sentence he was serving was a fraction of what he would be serving if he hadn’t given up Tex, and then he said he was proud of me for not ratting. Which was confusing. “But you ratted,” I’d pointed out. Sonny did not look great in orange. He’d shrugged. “Older you get, less that stuff matters. I have no family, Devlin. No one to protect. Closest thing I had was you. If I had a son, I’d take the hit for him. Not the other way around. Not the way Cade tried to do it.” Sonny let Paul off the hook for his debts. And, as I suspected, he’d paid the hospital bill for Cade, too. “I held you responsible for your father’s debt,” Sonny had said, his weary face creasing with shame. “I shouldn’t have. By the time the years got away from us, I liked having you around. You were good at collecting. You remember goddamn everything. Computer in your brain, kid.” I’d felt an odd wave of pride. “I liked taking care of you. Teaching you the ropes at Oak & Sage. You do good over there. You’re ten times the man your father was, and he was older than you are now when he started.” My chest constricted. In many ways, Sonny had been like a father to me over the years. “I knew you could make something of that place. You and your girl. Thought if I got my hooks out of you, that’d clear a path.” It had…and it hadn’t. Gamblers had trickled in over the past few weeks, but I turned them away, explaining how Sonny went down. The dining room took a hit, but things would pick

back up…I hoped. My dream of running Oak & Sage with Rena wasn’t a possibility since I hadn’t attempted to repair things with her since the night I fired her. I’d spent the better part of the last four weeks aching in a way I hadn’t known was possible. That day I visited Sonny, he noted my less-than-chipper outlook and asked about Rena. I lied and said she was good. Then I changed the subject to ask about his affairs. He told me Nat had taken over the pizzeria and the apartment building. Sonny assured me both were in good hands and not to worry. I still hated him being in that place. Hated how he’d given himself up—had almost given up entirely. I tried to argue that I could get him a better lawyer and help him get out, but he shook his head and tapped my hand with his rougher one. “I had a good run,” he’d told me. “Anyway, a few years of relaxing in here ain’t so bad.” I was unsure how Sonny would “relax” in prison. “Few years in here, then I’ll be out. I got a nice place in the Caribbean.” I hadn’t been able to tell if he was joking or not. “What can I do?” I asked, but I knew the answer. “Live,” he’d said. “Gimme grandchildren.” Grandchildren. Children. My thoughts had returned to Rena along with the feeling of rawness, proving my heart hadn’t healed even a little. “Enjoy your life, kid.” He’d asked about Cade next. I’d brought him up to speed, letting him know he had gained mobility, and was able to eat just fine and flip me off, as he did often. I stepped in front of the television screen now, and Cade leaned around me. I shifted so I was in his way again. He stared me down, his nostrils flaring. He was pissed about his lot in life, and I understood, I did. But I was older, and having been on my own put me in the unique position of being the mature one. Go figure. The standoff would have lasted twenty minutes or more if the doorbell hadn’t rung. “Dammit,” I muttered. Cade smiled. “This isn’t over,” I said to him. Antagonizing him into speaking had become my only tactic. The jerk had been mute for the last four days. He’d spoken a little, but mysteriously clammed up again. Ever since he could dress himself and get around better, he’d been less cooperative than before. And that was saying something. The last therapist Cade ran off warned if he didn’t use his speech soon, he could lose it forever. I supposed I could let the bastard fall apart, but guilt the size of Mothman had eaten holes in my soul. I didn’t recall ever having a ton of empathy for anyone before now. Rena’s fault. Some part of me felt guilty for not following Sonny into the slammer, even though he’d insisted it served no one if I served time alongside him. I suppose he was right. I was free to run Oak & Sage, I employed a staff who needed their paychecks. And I was here to take care of my pain-in-the-ass half brother whether he wanted me to or not. The doorbell chimed twice more by the time I reached the threshold. “Yeah, I’m coming!” I called as a yanked the door open. Tasha stood at the threshold, a messenger bag crossed over her chest, her blond hair in a

ponytail. She raised an eyebrow and gave me a peeved look much like her patient had a minute ago. I stepped aside and she breezed past me, not speaking. Tasha wasn’t a very big fan of mine. I understood why, sort of. I thought she’d cut me some slack since I had the balls to walk away. But her loyalty was with Rena no matter what. Honestly, I was glad. I liked her taking care of Rena. I sure as hell hadn’t. I finished cleaning the kitchen from the lunch I’d made for Cade and me. Paul was able to get his old job back, and as far as I knew, with Tex out of town and his goon squad dismantled, he was safe. Plus, I was here to protect him. Or stop him if he started betting again. Finished loading the dishwasher, I flipped off the lights in the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time to my old room. It’d been an adjustment living here again, same twin bed in the corner, same dinged-up five-drawer dresser and Mason jar filled with pennies on top. I changed into my suit for Oak & Sage and was just pulling a tie around my neck when Tasha knocked. She opened my door before I could respond. I started to tell her the knock was a moot point if she was going to let herself in anyway, but the angry slant of her fair brows made me lift one of mine in question. “I agree with Cade.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. My fingers paused on the knot of my tie. “You’re a pussy.” I blinked, unaccustomed to being accused of being a pussy, and unsure how to react, since I couldn’t pummel the person who’d just said it to me. “Cade said I was a pussy,” I stated flatly. “More than once.” Okay. Cade’s ass I could kick. “Cade is talking,” I said, not expecting this turn of events. “A little,” she said. “Enough.” Her face hardened. “Do you actually think leaving Rena left her in the clear? You think that was the best thing for her? Like she’ll thrive now that she’s as far away from you as possible?” The guilt surged again, but I tamped it down. Tasha was mad because Rena was upset. I focused on my reflection and tied my tie. I couldn’t think about her right now. “Doesn’t matter what she wants,” I said. “Because you know what’s best.” I stayed silent. Adjusted the knot at my throat. “Have you slept with anyone since Rena?” “You need to leave.” I pulled a jacket out of my closet, anger shaking my arms. Fuck, no, I hadn’t slept with anyone since Rena. As if I could move on? Forget what she meant to me? How she changed me for the better? “Because that seems like you.” Tasha continued her monologue. “Burn that bridge to ashes. Like I said. Cade’s right: You’re a pussy.” I shrugged on my suit jacket. “I don’t let chicks talk to me the way you’re talking to me,

Tasha.” It was an empty threat and she knew it. “I don’t let guys treat my best friend like garbage,” she snapped. “Go to her, Devlin. You go to her and take one look at her and tell me if you’re doing her any favors by staying away. Tell me she’s not the best thing that ever happened in your entire miserable existence.” She was. We both knew it. “She wouldn’t let me in if I showed,” I said. I’d thought about it. Over and over and over and over. I couldn’t take it if I went to her and she shut me out. Truth was, I was afraid of what would happen if she rejected me. Afraid the feelings I’d been trying to smother would surface, and in turn smother me. “You sure about that?” came Tasha’s parting blow. She left without another word. I faced my reflection in the mirror. I was sure earlier, I realized…but now? Now I wasn’t.

Chapter 20

Rena I waved goodbye to Lyle and got into my car. Shivering, I rubbed my gloved hands together as snow fell around me. The pace at Sarafina’s was like being thrown into slow motion after being on fast forward. No longer was I carrying trays of hot food, yelling at the kitchen guys for a side of mayo, or making out with Devlin in the cramped and overstocked office. I kept telling myself I didn’t miss that last part. I thought it might be working. I used to think of him and ache. Now I thought of him and got angry. That had to be progress, right? Tasha told me she’d gone to work with Cade three days this week. I had to make her swear not to mention Devlin’s name. She’d said too much already. If I meant anything to him, he’d have come to me. At home, I showered for an eternity, until my body no longer felt the chill from the weather, until all of me was overheated and loose, my bathroom filled with steam. I dried quickly and pulled on a thick robe. I hadn’t decided what to do with my life now that my nights were once again free. Even though Devlin and I hadn’t been together long, he’d filled the other half of my calendar. The other half of me. Evenings in the apartment were lonely. I hadn’t gotten used to that yet. Or again, I should say. Idly sketching into my notebook, I remembered the last time I’d seen Devlin. His bruises were gone. His suit pristine. At the time, I thought he was angry and unfeeling, but the more I pictured the straight line of his mouth, the more I began to doubt myself. It’d be easier to believe he hated me. But in my heart, I knew it wasn’t true. He wanted me away from Baron, away from harm. Devlin promising Roy he’d stay away from me was his only way of ensuring both of those things. Devlin protected me by ridding himself from my life. As plans went, it was a terrible one. Shouldn’t he protect me by holding me closer? I thought of his past—how he was raised by a gambler, how his mother had cheated on his father with Paul, how his father had leapt to his death… In Devlin’s shoes, I supposed I would’ve pushed me away, too. People abandoned him. His mom and dad, Paul. Even Sonny bailed in the end. Devlin may have sent me away, but I felt like I’d abandoned him, too. Dev had left Sonny, and the life, for me. I knew deep down it was true. Now that I’d sorted out my grief, I could see clearly. Devlin saw something in us he wanted to pursue. I knew that in my bones, in my gut. In my heart. But I also knew that until he was ready to admit it, I was chasing a dream. And I was so, so tired. Life had run the chase right out of me. I gave the drawing in my lap a forlorn glance and tossed my pad and pencil next to the flickering jar candle on my coffee table.

Bone-tired, I curled onto the couch and pulled a blanket over me. — Sometime later, a knock yanked me out of sleep. I squinted at the candle throwing soot on the side of the jar and blew it out, waving away a small puff of acrid smoke as I walked for the door. In my sleep-hazed state, I peeked through the blinds and saw a mirage: a hunkered figure on my doorstep, black leather coat, black hair, an arm extended and leaning on my door frame. I rubbed my eyes and willed away the feeling of déjà vu washing over me. But the figure was still there. Solid. Real. Realer than anything had been in weeks. The snow had stopped falling, so there were no flakes clinging to Devlin’s hair and scarf. Again ignoring every warning my mother had supplied me with over the years, and every warning I’d heeded before I met Devlin Calvary on a night very similar to this one, I pulled open my front door. He’d shown up beaten and bloody on my doorstep once before. I half expected to see blood tracking down his face when he lifted his head. Unlike the night that seemed more like decades ago, his perfect face was intact, both blue eyes open, electric blue and full of what might be concern. “Hey.” He straightened but didn’t make a move to come in. “Hey.” I was trying to decide if I was pissed or not. I should be. He’d rejected me, ignored me. Other than asking my best friend if she was driving my car, he may not have even thought of me. Meanwhile, I’d suffered grief not dissimilar to losing Joshua. But Devlin was very much alive and standing right in front of me. He chose to leave me behind. There. Now I was pissed. “You moved,” I tightened my hand around the doorknob. The words cluttering my mind for weeks came tumbling out next. “I went to your apartment, but you weren’t there. A maintenance guy told me you moved. Some guy I don’t know.” Devlin should have been the one to tell me. Should have called me. Should have come for me, dammit. I was worth it. He said nothing, only stared me down from beneath a tumble of dark hair. “You had officers watching the restaurant to keep me away from you,” I said. That part hurt. “Like I was a crazy ex-girlfriend stalking you or something.” At this, his eyebrows pinched. “What are you doing here?” I asked. I was afraid to guess. Absolutely terrified. Devlin made me feel things I had no business feeling. If I allowed myself to wonder if he was here because he felt them, too, and if it turned out I was wrong…Well, I didn’t want to think about that. So, I didn’t. “Tasha and I have a bet,” he said. Bizarrely. “You don’t bet,” I said, even more bizarrely. “Until now. She thinks you’re better off with me, and I think you don’t need me.” I felt my throat convulse as I swallowed. “First time in my life I ever hoped to lose a bet.” He huffed, almost a laugh. His expelled

breath hung in the chilled air sifting into my house. When my voice came out, it was a whispered truth. “I don’t need you.” I didn’t. I could survive without him. Continue breathing in and out, continue living my life. He wasn’t my power source, as I’d once imagined. I wanted him, though. I wanted him with everything inside of me. But I wouldn’t dry up and blow away without him. I was strong. And I wanted him to see he hadn’t broken me. “No,” he agreed. “I guess you don’t.” His eyes traveled the length of my body, and landed on my face, taking me in as if for the last time. “I don’t need you, either.” I blinked, surprised. I wanted him to need me. I guess that was unfair, but I was okay with being unfair. “Well good for you.” I moved to close the door. He stopped it with one hand. “I used to think that’s what I felt for you. Need,” he continued. “I haven’t needed anyone in a really long time. It’s a lot like desperation, that feeling. I don’t like it.” No. Neither did I. After Joshua died, the hardest thing for me to do was find a way to move forward without having him around to decide my future. Without him being there for every twist and turn. I had to find a way to do things on my own. His death left me no other choice. Similar to Devlin’s father dying, his mother leaving. Devlin had been forced to figure things out on his own, too. “I may not need you, Rena…” He held my gaze for a moment while my heart thrashed against my ribs. “But the want didn’t go anywhere. I want you so bad I can taste it.” I pressed my lips shut. Afraid, so afraid to admit I felt the same. Thankfully, he interrupted before I could. “Freezing my balls off out here. May I?” I stepped aside and let him in. A click sounded as I shut the door, then we were standing in my living room. Together. Just the two of us in my dim, warm apartment, the scent of burned-out candle in the air. Devlin smelled like the cold and the same soap I’d lathered with in his shower. “Can I get you something? A beer?” I tightened my robe, acutely aware I was naked underneath since the air from outside had curled around my now-frigid limbs. “Light beer?” He cringed. “No way.” “I need one.” I didn’t. But I needed space to think. And with him this close, I couldn’t hold on to the anger I had worked so hard on summoning. I was almost to the kitchen when his hand wrapped around the tie of my robe at my lower back. His other arm wrapped around my ribs as he pulled me against his chest and spoke into my ear. “Rena, baby.” I shivered with awareness. He felt solid, real, and oh-so-welcome. “I know what you’re doing,” he breathed into my ear. “I know why you’re doing it. And I know I deserve it.” I’d sewn my heart, my chest, back together when he left, but because I’d done a piss-poor job, the threads were snapping. It would never hold. Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I focused on the sliding glass door in my kitchen. Three inches of snow sat on the ground, the dead leaves and branches poking out of a planter

on my stoop waving in the wind. I stared at it, and then my eyes strayed to the reflection of Devlin bent over me, his handsome face so very near mine. I liked the way he looked wrapped around me. It was a beautiful picture. Another seam snapped. “I still want you.” He wrapped both arms at my waist, gave me a slight squeeze, then turned me in his arms. “Why did you go to my apartment?” “Why did you have the cops camp out at Oak & Sage?” I shot back. “I didn’t.” I blinked. “Roy said—” “Why would I want cops at my restaurant?” I blinked again. Why, indeed. “Think, Rena.” I thought. And came to the obvious conclusion. “Roy…didn’t tell me the truth.” He’d lied to me for my mother’s sake. Devlin released me. “He’s protecting you. He cares about you like a father. That’s not a bad thing.” He was right. Still…“I don’t like being lied to.” “Me neither.” Devlin’s body had begun to warm against me, even though his leather jacket retained the cold. “Why did you come to my apartment?” “I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.” I didn’t want to tell him the truth: because I missed him. I may not need him, but there was a hole in my life I knew only he would fit into. His hands on my waist, he pulled me closer. I kept my gaze on his charcoal-colored sweater and refused to look up at the lips I missed. “I know you don’t,” those lips whispered. “Why didn’t you come to see me?” I had to know. I hazarded a look up at him. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. In his eyes I saw everything I wanted to see. Hope, care, and the promise of more. I sank into his body, my hands gripping his sweater, the chilly metal zipper against my wrist the only thing grounding me. “Answer me first,” he said. “Apartment. Why, Rena?” I could hardly concentrate with him near. “I wanted to see you,” I answered ever so softly. “Why?” “To f–find out why you fired me.” Lie. “Why?” he asked through a soft laugh. “Want your job back?” I pushed on his chest, hating how easily I pictured him naked on contact. “Just leave me alone, okay? I can’t see what this has to do with—” “Just tell me why.” He held me as I struggled, one arm banded around my back, his hand sliding to my jaw and angling my face toward his. He was curled around me, his focus unerring. And I was snared, unable—no—unwilling to move. “Because…” The tears I’d tried damming were pooling on the edges of my lower lids. “Because I wanted you.”

He smiled, liking my answer. That smile thoroughly undid the final thread holding my chest together. “Why did you want me?” “Because, okay?” Frustrated, I swiped at my eyes to keep traitorous tears from spilling over. “Not okay. Tell me why you want me.” “Wanted,” I corrected. “Past tense.” “You don’t want me anymore?” His eyes darted to my lips. This was a challenge I was sure to lose. “I want you, Rena. I haven’t stopped wanting you. Want is flowing through me like lava.” I let those words turn over in my head, in my heart. My fists clutched his sweater again as I searched his eyes. “That’s not enough.” “I know,” he said. “Make you a deal.” He grinned and I lost strength in my knees. I really had missed him. His fingertips wound around my hair, and massaged my scalp. His touch reminded me of all we had. Of all we could have. “Tell me why you wanted me,” he said, “and I’ll tell you why I’m really here.” “You first.” “I love you,” he blurted. “I came here to tell you I love you. To strip you naked, and be inside you, and while I’m inside you, to tell you again.” His eyes bored into me, bare and honest and challenging everything I thought I knew. “And again,” he said, his voice a low growl. Shock radiated to my limbs, tears threatening again. “We had a deal,” he reminded me. “Why did you want me, Rena?” Tears spilled over and my strength ebbed. I managed the words “I can’t,” but they sounded more like a sob. Devlin lifted me into his arms and sat on my couch with me in his lap. “You can,” he said quietly. “I thought I couldn’t, too, remember?” I did remember. The night he’d had bourbon and we argued. I can’t make love to you, and hold you all night, and tell you how much I care about you. I lifted my eyes to his and blinked several times, feeling my wet lashes against my cheeks. He smiled. I sniffed. He waited. I hesitated. Winding my hand into his hair, I watched as his eyes closed. A breath moved through his whole body, and I wondered if he’d taken a deep breath since I last held him—since he last held me. We’d both resisted so hard, so afraid of “needing” each other, we forgot that wanting was enough. Love…was enough. “Devlin,” I whispered. He opened his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. In them, I saw our future. I saw forever. I saw us. “I love you, too,” I confessed. He kissed me hard, crushing his mouth into mine as his hand went to the tie on my robe

and undid the bow. My tongue pushed past his lips as he explored my body with one hand, supporting me with the other. I clutched on to him like a lifeline, my body shivering, but not from cold, from anticipation. “Devlin,” I panted. He grinned against my mouth. “I missed hearing that.”

Devlin If my heart had been concrete—and before Rena, it may have been—it would have split down the seam. A jagged crack from being exposed to too much cold and then heated again. Rena was on my lap, her naked body under my palm. I held her to me and kissed her, wrapping her warmth against me. Our tongues tangled. She tasted like heaven. Absolute heaven. She clawed at the back of my head, and my hands wandered over her breasts, her skin softer than I remembered. I tweaked her nipples and a soft cry came from her throat. “Devlin,” she whispered against my mouth. “Please.” I loved hearing her say my name. Loved her. Loved that she’d let me in tonight. Hefting her into my arms, I stood. “Bed.” I walked down the hallway, a naked woman, her robe thrown open, in my arms. “I missed you.” She smiled. My entire body throbbed. “I love you.” “So you say.” She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and breathed into my ear, “Now prove it to me.” I stopped in her doorway and surveyed the black and red bedding. The short black curtains with white skulls on them. Her clothes were strewn all over the floor. An empty beer bottle sat on her nightstand, and her iPod earbuds were tangled and hanging halfway out of a drawer. This was no pink princess’s bedroom. “You are a bad girl.” “Bad as you want.” A feisty smirk sat on her gorgeous face. “Oh, I want you bad.” I carried her to her messy bed, laid her down, and stretched over her. Her hands went to my face, then her smile faded, her eyes begging for something I knew she wouldn’t ask for. “I know, baby,” I said, and I did. I knew. “I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again.” A small sigh left her lips. I kissed her until her breaths were short and tight and her fingers clawed at my clothes and stripped me bare. I made love to her. Slow, sweet, bone-deep love. She looked in my eyes when she came and I told her I loved her. And when I found my release inside her, I kept my promise and told her again. And again.

Nicole, this one is for you, my friend.

Acknowledgments In the interim between romance novels coming out and others going in, I challenged myself to write a hero just for me. Devlin was born. Thanks go out to Sue Grimshaw, for taking a chance on me and seeing my potential. Nicole Resciniti, my agent, for your ideas and help with the evolving plot. Everyone at Loveswept, thank you for your hard work and essential efforts in the production of this book. Thanks also to Piper Trace and Shannon Richard, for your constant cheering and excitement over Devlin. Diane Alberts and Rachel VanDyken, for brainstorming with me and being available. Having friends who are talented writers in this business has been an amazing gift. Endless thanks and hugs (and other things I can’t mention here) to my husband¸ John, who stands beside me every step of the way. And to you, dear readers, who spend your precious minutes reading the words I put down. Thank you for letting me into your lives.

BY JESSICA LEMMON Lost Boys Fighting for Devlin Falling for Caden (coming soon)

PHOTO: NICHOLAS LONG

A former job-hopper, JESSICA LEMMON resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want. Jessica is a social media junkie who loves to hear from readers. You can learn more at: jessicalemmon.com Facebook.com/AuthorJessicaLemmon @lemmony

The Editor’s Corner Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November…wait, it is November, and Loveswept is releasing some of our best books of the year! Check out these fabulous romances: New York Times bestselling author Marquita Valentine releases her second new novel in her Boys of the South spin-off series Take the Fall series with When We Fall, in which a small-town sweetheart takes a chance on the bad boy who’s always been her hottest fantasy. Another Loveswept New York Times bestselling author, Tracy Wolff introduces her new Hotwired series with Accelerate, where an unassuming passenger is taken for the ride of her life. New York Times bestselling author A. Meredith Walters releases a powerful romance akin to The Fault in Our Stars with Butterfly Dreams. Then, welcome to Thistle Bend! A charming series debut from Tracy March, Should’ve Said No introduces a small town where old secrets are revealed—and wounded hearts are opened to new love. And in a short novel, Rebecca Rogers Maher’s Rolling in the Deep, two kindred spirits share a winning lottery ticket—and discover what it really means to get lucky. Sports fans were introduced last month to the Aces Hockey series by Kelly Jamieson with Major Misconduct, and this month Kelly releases a holiday romance, Off Limits. Book two in the Recovered Innocence series by Beth Yarnall features a San Diego investigative team with a soft spot for lost causes and a passion for redemption in Vindicate. And Taking It Off, by USA Today bestselling author Claire Kent introduces you to Matt Stokes, the sexy-as-sin male stripper and club owner who knows what it really means to bare everything. Jessica Lemmon’s irresistible Lost Boys series kicks off with Fighting for Devlin the story of a good girl who plays by the rules—and the bad boy who brings out her wild side. And in Cecy Robson’s O’Brien Family series debut, two total opposites find that the flames of desire are still smoldering in Once Kissed. For historical romance fans, Sharon Cullen’s The Reluctant Duchess ignites as a shy country girl and a hotheaded duke surrender to dangerous temptations. Then it’s on to Scotland for USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Haymore’s Highland Knights and the first book in this new series, Highland Heat, an electrifying tale of class warfare, fierce loyalties, and forbidden love. I don’t want this month to end! But the good news is December is upon us with more fabulous Loveswept titles. Until then… Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

Forgotten Promises by Jessica Lemmon

Available from Loveswept

Running

Tucker Things aren’t exactly going my way. My breath burns heavy and hot in my lungs as I run. And run and run and run. Not that I should have expected them to go smoothly. After years spent under my father’s command, or seeking freedom from it, it’s eerily unsurprising to find I’ve landed myself in this much trouble just one day after getting released from prison. Yeah. I said prison. But I didn’t belong there. I don’t intend on going back. Working out in the yard at Baybrook Penitentiary, jogging the perimeter every chance I got, has paid off. Blood is drying on my shirt, the sting of broken flesh on my knuckles a physical reminder of what I am capable of. I dig deep and find the strength to run faster. Now to find a car. I had a friend when I was on the outside. He owed me a favor. I cut across a yard and skirt a big wooden playground set with brightly colored plastic tubes and slides, wondering what it might have been like to live that way. I wonder if the kids were protected. Safe. Loved. But I don’t have time to do a postmortem on my childhood. Praying no one is looking out of a window, I leap a fence to an attached apartment complex and land on my feet on a crumbling pile of asphalt. The weeds are overgrown, the trees scraggly. There is junk and garbage cans showing that the people who live here don’t give a shit about appearances. Or much of anything. People like us have our reasons for feeling that way. If Lady Luck is any friend at all, she’ll shine on me and Mark’s Dodge Charger parked in exactly the same spot as when he and I used to break laws together. Minor laws. I mean, we didn’t kill anybody or anything. I slink past a few other cars parked under a dilapidated awning, and spot his Dodge, Chelsea (named for an ex-girlfriend), parked outside of Mark’s garage. Similar to the real Chelsea, the car is not gleaming and kind of dirty. But for my needs, the car may as well have a light from heaven itself shining upon her. This is a blessing when I need one most. I calm my walk as I approach his driveway, edging along grass that needs mowing, and taking a peek through a pair of partially open shabby curtains. My former good buddy is sprawled on his couch snoring, mouth wide open. I smile as I remember the fun we had together. Feels like about a hundred years ago, even though it’s been more like three. I wonder if he was able to keep his job at the gravel pit, or if he was fired for one of many reasons he’d been fired from everywhere else. “Fun” had been a rare commodity in my world back then, and right about now it is extinct. I consider knocking on his door, asking if I can borrow Chelsea, but not for long. The

debate lasts exactly two seconds before I turn away from Mark’s window and walk to the car I’m about to appropriate for myself. Unlocked, I slide onto the seat and palm the steering wheel, ignoring the sting on my knuckles as I grip the wheel. I haven’t driven a car in the eighteen months since I stole my father’s Explorer one fated night, and being in the driver’s seat feels like a hit of intoxicating freedom. Freedom I can’t allow to be taken from me. Not again. Not ever. I am prepared to hot-wire her, a handy trick, but then check the glove compartment—the stupidest place to keep a set of keys second only to the visor. There, beneath the expired registration is a key taped to the vinyl cover of the owner’s manual. Jackpot. Before my luck runs out—given the way every other damn thing has worked out, it very well might—I jam the key in the ignition and turn over her blubbering engine. Loud. Way too fucking loud. As I back out of the driveway, Mark’s door swings open. He’s in boxers and nothing else, rubbing his eyes, his hair and beard scraggly. I stomp on the brakes and shift into Drive. Mark smiles at his feet. It’s as good as getting his permission. I jerk my chin in a silent goodbye and gun the engine. The fuel gauge reads three-quarters full, so I head for the shittiest convenience store I can find. I need supplies for where I’m going, and if the place is shady enough, the clerk won’t bat an eyelash at my attire of white-T-shirt-covered-in-blood. I drive, keeping my eyes on the road while searching the front- and backseat with my hand. Finally, my fingers curl around something cool and slick. I grip the sleeve of the leather jacket. It’s black, smells like pot, and has seen better days. Like the nineties. It will have to do. At least it’ll cover my shirt. My bleeding knuckles however…I shake my hand out as I pass a Waffle House, several semis parked in the lot, the inside well lit—a little too well lit. Stopping even briefly to wash my hands is risky. I settle for the napkins I spotted in the glove compartment when I was digging for the keys. I wipe as gently as possible, grateful that most of the blood isn’t mine. I’m luckier than I gave myself credit for a moment ago. My father was always a fighter. I’ve seen him take down a man twice my size—one who’s out-of-his-mind high. I shouldn’t have been a challenge for him, but I had the element of surprise. What I didn’t have was the proof I went to my childhood home to reclaim. The proof that would exchange my and my father’s places in the eyes of the law and anyone with a functioning consciousness. The plan was to send him to prison, not send myself back. It was time. Jeremy is gone. Mom is safely out of the country. But now…now I don’t know what the hell to do. Without proof, it’s my word against my father’s, and there’s no doubt in my mind who the masses will believe. I have no idea how I’m going to get the tape. It isn’t as if I can go back and ring the doorbell. It’s not like I can go to the police and plead my side of the story. There isn’t much sympathy for the ex-con who beats the police chief unconscious. Especially when the police chief is his father.

Chapter 1

Happy Freaking Birthday

Morgan I’m still gaping at my boyfriend from across the table at Pinky’s, taco-slash-karaoke bar, and, if he doesn’t proceed very carefully, his final resting place. Drew has an exaggerated look of remorse on his face I just know is manufactured. “We didn’t plan to, Mo,” he tells me. “Don’t call me that,” I manage, and it’s the first words I’m capable of since he and Shayna dropped the bomb that they were doing the nasty. An accurate description, I think, my mind still buzzing from either the tequila shots or the new information stinging my brain like a horde of angry bees. “You’re disgusting.” I shoot daggers from my eyes at Shayna, who sits across the table from me and does her best kicked-puppy impression. Screwed over by my best friend. Correction: ex–best friend. My accusation shifts her face from guilt-riddled bestie to offended bitch in such a short time frame, it’s almost laughable. “Drew has needs.” She seriously did not just say that. I blink, stunned, and turn to face Drew, who is having a staring contest with his beer. “I’m sorry?” I say to him, not the least bit sorry. “You have needs involving your penis in Shayna’s vagina?” “In my mouth, actually,” she interjects and it’s such a skanky thing to say I feel my mouth drop open. How was this my best friend? What the hell sort of circumstances led to my linking myself to the girl who one-by-one alienated our combined group of friends? And Drew! I glare at him. “This breakup is about blowjobs?” I say a little too loudly. “Several.” Shayna smirks. Every inch of me wants to tear her dark hair out by the roots. But I’ve seen enough daytime TV to know not to be the girl who yells at the other girl while the man in the room sits smugly and watches them fight over him. The swine. A rendition of “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood (sung by a very drunk blonde in a very tight dress) plays from the stage behind me as I stand up from my seat. Neither of my exes seems to notice the blatant appropriateness of the song, but I do. And while I don’t possess a Louisville Slugger and Drew doesn’t have a four-wheel drive truck, I feel inspired. “Any reason you waited until tonight to share this with me?” I ask. My father offered to take me to a nice restaurant, give me my gift, treat me like a princess. But no. I turned him down. Told him Drew had “special plans” to take me out and surprise me. In his defense, I am surprised.

“This was your epic plan for my birthday?” I ask. “No.” He makes a sharp hand gesture and looks almost excited to have found some ground to stand on that’s not mired in quicksand and R.O.U.S.es. “This was never the plan. Michaela and Jon and Bethany were planning on coming, too.” More his friends than mine. Mine have absconded to college where they made college friends, went to college parties, and in general left those of us in Baybrook to our simple lives. “We were supposed to start here and finish at Milson’s summer party,” he adds. Oh, my bad. The “big plan” for the night was a crappy karaoke bar followed by a party not thrown for me. What a jerk. I down my last tequila shot, and then, what the hell, Shayna’s tequila shot. I don’t need it, technically, but I earned it. “I’m going to have to get tested for skank diseases,” I say, curling my lip at Shayna. She sputters and crosses her arms but, wisely, says nothing. Maybe because Drew has put a hand on her arm communicating to her that her input would not be welcome at this juncture. I decide, while watching him stroke her arm in a sweet way, that I’m not nearly done drinking. I’ll buy a bottle of wine on the way home and drink it in the comfort of my plush bedroom. Surrounded by teddy bears from my youth under my canopy bed. Maybe I’ll even dig out my old diary and write down how much I hate the two people I used to love four and a half minutes ago. “And where are Michaela and Jon and Bethany? Did everyone just…cancel?” I gesture with my arms, aware I’m standing and talking loudly and drawing the attention from the girl yowling onstage. She’s trying. She really is. “I texted everyone and told them to go to Milson’s. I said we were skipping Pinky’s,” Shayna explained. “I didn’t think you’d want them here.” “We were trying to save you the embarrassment,” Drew says, his cheeks going a ruddy shade. As if my embarrassment is the issue? “God. You are an idiot,” I say, but the anger is starting to burn off leaving something else behind. Regret. And the kind of sadness that’s palpable and cannot be penetrated by ice cream and chick flicks. I feel a pang of loss as I consider the friends who left me behind. If I’d have gone to law school like my father encouraged, how different would my life have been? I can’t do this right now. I cannot have a breakdown in the middle of Pinky’s for God’s sake. Anger is my only ally. “It’s only fair we tell you before things between us go further.” Shayna’s gaze slides to one side to where a pink Cosmopolitan in a fancy glass rests by her manicured nails. “Well, that was the plan. We almost made it but couldn’t resist…” She twines those talons with Drew’s hand and my temper hits apocalyptic levels. “You had sex with her on my birthday?” I shriek. The room stills. The girl singing stops her warbling. All that’s left is the canned background vocals on the track and someone behind me whispering, “Wow.” Through my fuzzy vision and my heartbeat sloshing in my ears, I straighten my shoulders and mutter, “You two deserve each other.” Grabbing Shayna’s drink, I dump it over Drew’s head and leave her to clean up her new bed buddy. As for me, I snatch my new Kate Spade (gift from my father), flip my freshly blownout and highlighted hair (gift from my stepmother), and march out of Pinky’s without a

single glance over my shoulder. I promise myself as my feet hit the pavement of Pinky’s parking lot that I won’t cry, but I’m pretty sure I’ll lose that battle sooner than later. With my focus squarely on the nearest open establishment that will sell me a bottle of wine, I set off on foot. A blister on my baby toe starts hurting me after about twenty minutes of walking up the shoulder of Medway Road. There is a closed gas station on one side of the street, an automotive garage on the other, and next to that, a convenience store that looks as welcoming as a back alley lined with hookers and drug dealers. I bite down on my lip, considering it’s safer inside than out here. The bulbs in the lamps flanking the parking lot are burned out save for one, and it is flickering on and off, humming louder than my tequila buzz. So. Not the nicest store or the best part of my town, but this is Baybrook, Missouri, we are talking about. Even the bad parts of town aren’t that bad. Nothing happens here, unless you count Main Street parades, an occasional pants-on-the-flagpole prank at the high school, and parasite boyfriends cheating on their girlfriends. I shouldn’t drink-and-walk, but there was no way I was letting Drew take me home or calling my father to pick me up. I couldn’t tell him about Drew. About Shayna. And my stepmom…well, I couldn’t tell her either but I totally would have called her first if she was home. But she’s not. She’s spending an impromptu girls’ week in North Carolina. She wasn’t going to go because it was my birthday, but I assured her it wasn’t a big deal. Her friend is getting a divorce from a man who recently discovered he’s gay, and I reasoned that my turning twenty-one sort of paled in comparison to Julia’s friend’s relationship woes. Then again, mine is running a close second. Tears burn my nose and a fat, warm droplet spills down my cheek. Sure, now I’m crying. And what’s worse is there is no one to comfort me when I need it the most. I take one more look around the parking lot, seriously expecting a tumbleweed to blow by, before sniffling and wiping my tears away with my fingertips. I pull myself together and grasp the handle of the door to the 7-Eleven. I think of how Drew drove me tonight, picking up Shayna on the way. I thought he was running late because he had to work. I now know it’s because he and Shayna had…ugh. What a horrible best friend. Ex–best friend. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Only the last “idiot” is meant for me. Because I was the biggest idiot here. I should have seen Drew’s and Shayna’s lies sooner. I should have recognized the way Drew had been pulling away from me lately. The way Shayna didn’t talk to me as often as she used to. I should have held on to the friends who mattered and taken my father’s advice about going away to school. I blink my eyes before another assault of hot tears, vowing not to slide all the way into the depression spiral until I buy my gas station wine. I’ll take it home and run a bath and listen to Ed Sheeran, and then I can cry. Cry and sit in the water until I’m pruney and freezing. My tear ducts comply, and soon I am streak-free and composed enough to go inside. I’m going to have to call a cab, though, because I am not hoofing it from here to my front porch in the middle of the night. I step over the threshold, narrowly avoiding a wad of bubble gum smashed into the dirt on

the floor. Lettering stenciled on the back wall announces WINE and BEER and SODA over their corresponding coolers. I walk directly to the wine portion and choose a bottle that meets my needs. This stuff will most definitely make me drunk. I figure it will also plague me with an epic headache in the morning, but whatever. Beggars can’t be… My thoughts stall as I spot the only other patron in the store with me. From my angle behind a rack of potato chips, trail mix, and other snack foods, I can only make out his profile, but his profile is enough. I know him. You know how you can’t remember things from your past until you do? Until something familiar calls it up? It may be a little thing. An insignificant thing. Then in a perfect moment of symmetry where time stands still, a memory coats your brain like Magic Shell on your favorite vanilla bean ice cream. I’m in a bubble of time where everything is frozen as my brain catalogs this new information. Admittedly, the cataloging is happening at a sluggish pace given my beverage choices this evening. The guy ahead of me in line is tall, really tall, with medium-length dark brown hair. His jaw is clean-shaven, his lips are full, and his expression is as tortured as it’s ever been. I tighten my grip on the chilled, cheap bottle of wine and call up a name I haven’t thought about in years. Tucker Noscalo. He must feel me staring because he turns, gazing through unkempt locks of hair falling almost seductively over his forehead. Our eyes lock. Stunning blue, sometimes gray, his narrowed gaze eats into my very soul the longer we stare. He clenches his jaw—the muscles in his cheek twitch—then turns away, his hair once again falling over his face. The snack foods and soda fountain and filthy tile vaporize and I see only the memory from years ago. We were in the eighth grade, which would have made me fourteen at the time. Seven years ago. A lifetime. He’d clenched his jaw, then, too, viewing me through the veil of thick eyelashes like he had a second ago. It was the first time I noticed his scars. Several V-shaped cuts tracking vertically up his forearm. He was a cutter, I assumed. And the moment he stood two lockers down from mine and noticed where my eyes went, he yanked down the sleeve of his hoodie and speared me with an angry glare. The Noscalo boys were bad seeds. Everyone knew to steer clear of both Tucker and his younger brother, Jeremy. But in that moment I felt like I truly saw him—like we saw each other. Then the moment was over, and I was going to class and trying to figure out the cause of the weird hum inside my belly. Tucker was closed off, quiet, and very bad news. A cop’s kid, I assumed his habit of bucking authority was akin to a preacher’s daughter sinning because she was supposed to be good. Two years after that, Tucker and some local lowlife robbed a liquor store. Tucker went from “bad news” to certified juvenile delinquent. Dangerous. But he intrigued me as much as he scared me. There was something about him I related to back then, even though I didn’t know what it was. It was just a gut call I couldn’t explain.

I blink and the world comes rushing back, pulling him into sharp focus. Then he turns his back and gives me no indication of whether he recognizes me or not. It’s not like we were friends back then. More, he was a guy I watched from the corner of my eye until he wasn’t there to watch any longer. The clerk, a short dark-skinned man with great hair, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt, finishes bagging two grocery sacks for Tucker. Seriously, didn’t he know better than to buy his weekly groceries at a place like this? Every item in here is overpriced. He wraps a hand around the grocery sack, crinkling the brown paper, and I decide not to let him leave without saying hello. Where Tucker is concerned, my curiosity always edged out the fear. “I know you,” I say to his back. He lets go of the bags and turns to face me fully. My breath catches as I get a good look at the faded blood decorating his white T-shirt, at least the part I can see beneath his zipped leather jacket. He shoves the receipt and his change into a front pocket and I notice dried blood on his knuckles, too. My face goes cold, like I’ve gone into shock from the sum of the evening’s events. Yet I’m more curious than afraid. “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice quiet. His blue-gray eyes find mine and shock is replaced with warmth. Like honey is oozing down my spine and pooling in my belly. He’s as tall as he ever was: well over six feet, but not as rangy as I remember. The leather coat covers shoulders that appear broader and, from what I can see, stretches across a welldefined chest. That’s different. My memory of Tucker doesn’t include ample pecs. Or traps, I think as my gaze trickles down his throat and along the side of his neck. God, he’s gorgeous. Straight nose, high cheekbones, a sharp, angled jaw. His hair is longer, shaggy, with a bit of curl. His lips are full and enviable. And frozen into a firm line. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tucker Noscalo smile. He’s also dressed the same as I remember in high school: worn jeans, Chuck Taylors, white T-shirt. I inspect the blood spatters on the cotton, but other than his knuckles, spot no sign of injury. I remember suddenly, shockingly, that he’d been to prison and further wonder if he got out or if he busted out. Did people still escape from prison? I take a step forward rather than back, intrigued. “Morgan,” I say when he doesn’t respond. He’s a criminal. But he paid for the sundries in the overstuffed bags on the counter, I argue with myself. “Morgan Young,” I sort of repeat. “We shared a chem class a million years ago.” He’s staring. Not speaking. And he does not look happy. I’m not sure if he’s not happy because he remembers me or because he doesn’t. If he’s trying to remember who I am or decide if he should rob the place after all and take me as a hostage. To say that I’m a little nervous would be like saying the Arizona desert is a bit warm. Oddly, I’m not sure what I’m nervous about…because I’d once harbored a crush on the guy and am attempting to talk to him, or because I’m in imminent peril and my fight-or-flight response has kicked in. Damn tequila. I should never drink it. It makes me fuzzy; take risks I shouldn’t. Case in point, I continue my one-sided conversation.

“It’s my birthday. Twenty-one today.” When he doesn’t respond, I run my fingers along the edge of a bag of Cheetos. “Yep. The big two-one.” I leave the Cheetos behind. No sense in buying food to soak up my upcoming alcohol buzz. Because when I get home, I am getting duh-runk. He surprises me by walking over in two long-legged steps. He moves easily, his lithe gait suggesting he isn’t injured. So the blood must belong to someone else. I stand my ground, trying to reflect the confidence of his approach. It’s all for show. I have no confidence tonight. He sizes me up, his eyes skating down my body and back up, and I wonder if he can sense I’m not having the happiest of birthdays. He lifts the wine bottle out of my hand, I assume to inspect the label. He isn’t going to be very impressed. Even I have my doubts about the label’s claim proclaiming the gas station wine tastes like “strawberry fields.” Rather than hand it back, he walks the bottle to the counter and drops the change onto the counter. The clerk rings him up, casting me an unsure glance and I feel the need to defend myself. “I’m twenty-one,” I say. The cash register spits out a receipt and the clerk offers it to Tucker, but Tucker holds up a hand to turn it down. Then he gathers his groceries and walks out a pair of doors opposite the ones I entered. I’m left standing awkwardly in front of the clerk and my now-paid-for bottle of wine. Do I show him my ID or just take my gift and run? Option B sounds the best, though I won’t be running very far. I palm the neck of the bottle, but halfway to the entrance from the poorly lit parking lot, I pause to study the doors Tucker disappeared through. He didn’t say a single word to me. And I didn’t thank him. You really should thank him. I could at least go talk to him while I call for a cab. What’s the harm? I come up with about twelve answers on the spot, but ignore them all. I’m so completely taken by his silence, his presence, his hotness, that I spin on my heel and walk to the other side of the store. But the driving force is another memory altogether. A memory of when he stood up for me, protected me, during a moment I needed protected but didn’t know it. A moment where Tucker Noscalo recognized the danger that I, cocooned in my perfect world, had completely overlooked. That’s why I slip out the door now and go to him. Under the guise of saying thank you, and because I have to know if he remembers me. I spot him piling his groceries into the backseat of a black car that had seen better days. It suits him. He spots me and stands slowly, and in that moment, as our eyes meet over the top of the car, I decide gas station wine shared with a handsome, mysterious, criminal is a huge step up from my evening thus far. I’ve never been so wrong.

Love stories you’ll never forget By authors you’ll always remember eOriginal Romance from Random House www.readloveswept.com Follow us online for the latest new releases, giveaways, exclusive sneak peeks, and more! readloveswept readloveswept

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