Love and Wargames_ A Bad Boy Ha - Kiss, Tabatha

Contents Title Page Copyright Snake Eyes Reading Order Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance Bonus Book Chapter 1: Boxcar Chapter 2: Caleb Chapter 3: Caleb Chapter 4: Boxcar Chapter 5: Boxcar Chapter 6: Caleb Chapter 7: Caleb Chapter 8: Boxcar Chapter 9: Caleb Chapter 10: Caleb

Chapter 11: Boxcar Chapter 12: Caleb Chapter 13: Boxcar Chapter 14: Boxcar Chapter 15: Caleb Chapter 16: Caleb Chapter 17: Boxcar Chapter 18: Caleb Chapter 19: Boxcar Chapter 20: Caleb Chapter 21: Boxcar Chapter 22: Boxcar Chapter 23: Caleb Chapter 24: Boxcar Bonus Book Title Page Copyright Untouched: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

Chapter 1: Who Are You? Chapter 2: I'm A Prisoner Chapter 3: Factory Equipment Chapter 4: Follow The Noise Chapter 5: Now Hit Me Chapter 6: It's Tradition Chapter 7: Promise Me Again Chapter 8: Get The Blood Off Chapter 9: You're Not A Monster Chapter 10: Start Over Chapter 11: Code Of Conduct Chapter 12: Girls And Bad Boys Chapter 13: I'll Take Care Of You Chapter 14: A Better Man Chapter 15: The Untouchable Epilogue About the Author Also by Tabatha Kiss

Copyright

LOVE AND WARGAMES: A BAD BOY HACKER ROMANCE SNAKE EYES | BOOK 3

TABATHA KISS

Copyright © 2016 by Tabatha Kiss All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older. No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related. WARNING: This novel contains

explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language. Reader discretion advised. http://tabathakiss.com To sign up for exclusive updates on upcoming novels please click here: http://eepurl.com/bn_pKL

The SNAKE EYES Series

Stand-alone Romances. Interconnecting Stories. One Unforgettable Adventure.

::READING ORDER:: #1: Bodyguard: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance #2: The Hitman’s Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance #3: Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance

LOVE AND WARGAMES: A BAD BOY HACKER ROMANCE SNAKE EYES | BOOK 3 BY TABATHA KISS BOXCAR We got married two years ago. I haven’t seen her since. We met in Afghanistan. She was a soldier. I was a geek with a laptop. I never thought I stood a chance but a few secret trysts together proved otherwise. Tragedy struck and it tore us apart but I

never stopped loving her. Now, Snake Eyes is looking for me and they sent two of their best assassins to track me down. There’s only one person I can trust to keep me safe and she hates my guts. Caleb Fawn. My estranged wife. This should be fun. CALEB I don’t believe in second chances. But this is Boxcar we’re talking about here. We met in Afghanistan. He was a smartass. I was his bodyguard.

I wanted to keep it professional but just one look in his eyes was enough to melt my damn panties off. It couldn’t last. Being a soldier comes with a price and I wasn’t about to let him pay it. Now, Snake Eyes wants what he’s got and they’ll get it unless I help him. The only problem is that the two of us can’t be in the same room together without screaming at each other or tearing our clothes off. Sometimes both. Boxcar. My idiot husband. This should be a disaster. The SNAKE EYES Series

Stand-alone Romances. Interconnecting Stories. One Unforgettable Adventure.

After Love and Wargames, please enjoy Untouched: A Bad Boy MMA Romance as a bonus read! Thank you for reading! xoxo TK

Chapter 1 Boxcar Boston Present Day Rob from the rich. Give to the poor. It’s an ideology so beloved people have written songs about it. The classic tale of heroic vigilantism that people usually have no moral issues with despite it going against most standards of basic American economics. But I ain’t Robin Hood. And this rich prick had it coming

anyway. Ian Botsford is the last in long line of assholes, assuming he never knocks up his young, co-ed girlfriend. On the outside, he seems like a pretty decent guy — your standard handsome, billionaire philanthropist — until you start peeling back the layers to discover a few particularly creepy traditions that reach pretty far up the Botsford family tree, including one annual party that’s so skeevy even I won’t touch it. Mr. Botsford and his wealthy, social elite buddies like to lure young ladies (the more jail-baity, the better) into his hotels to be auctioned off to the highest bidder for the night. I mean, I’m not exactly the picture of healthy

morality, but come on… Gross. I’ve spent the last several weeks traveling to various Botsford Plaza Hotels around the country, inserting a special, completely undetectable, line of code into their payroll systems. Nothing too crazy, just a worm that eats up one percent of every dollar that passes through. Each Botsford Plaza moves — on average — one million dollars each month through their payroll accounts. So far, I’ve uploaded this worm to twentyfive of this bastard’s hotels. One percent of one million dollars times twenty-five. Let me do the math for you. Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

And I don’t even have to leave my desk. In the grand scheme of things, this will be a parking ticket for him. He probably won’t even notice the money is gone and by the time he does, I’ll be in Fiji doing jell-o shots off an islander’s voluptuous tits. Well… maybe not that last part but it still beats the hell out of Boston in May. I sit back in my desk chair and stare at the clock on the wall. Three minutes until midnight. The payroll department finalizes their transactions at twelve-ohone east coast time every payday. They never miss it. It’s the very definition of clock work and quite possibly the most

impressive thing about the staff at Botsford Plaza Hotels. They know their shit. From management to maids, those places are run tight as virgin priestesses. If only their C.E.O. wasn’t such a massive cunt. Twelve-oh-clock. Almost there… I crack my knuckles and sit up, looking through my own reflection staring back at me in my desktop computer monitor. It’s been a few days since I’ve shaved and even longer since I’ve hit the gym but I’ve been busy, dammit. What’s your excuse? I slide my glasses off and wipe the fingerprints clean before clacking the keyboard, preparing to activate the rather hungry worm slipping its way through twenty-

five separate payroll systems. All I have to do is tell it to start chomping and my bank account fills up like magic. Twelve-oh-one. It’s showtime, Synergy. I move to activate the worm and my security system alerts loudly from my phone. Well, shit. I spin around in my chair and roll over to my second desk to check the monitors. Someone is outside of my apartment door — make that two someones — and they aren’t here to sell me girl scout cookies, that’s for sure. Unless the ladies changed their uniforms to include spec-ops black and tactical vests.

One is male, mid-twenties with ash brown hair in desperate need of a trim — not that I’m one to talk about that. The other is female; petite but muscular with hair that looks like a beaten up red crayon. She stands in front of the security panel with a screwdriver in her hand, thinking she can probably brute force her way through my system. She can’t — but it’s cute that she’s trying. I enable voice decryption and flick on the microphone. “Um… Excuse me, madam,” I say. She instantly pauses and stares straight ahead into camera. “I don’t mean to alarm you two but the police have been notified and they’re on their way to this location.” “No, they aren’t.” She smiles at the

camera. Say cheese. I open my facial recognition software and it goes to work, scanning every point and dimple of her little face. Now, I just have to keep her talking while it checks her against every law enforcement and identification database in the world. “Open the door, Mr. Carson,” she says. “We just want to talk.” “Oh, I’d love to chat with you, sweetheart,” I say. “Ditch the shadow and we’ll go have a drink. My treat.” She glances back and rolls her eyes at the guy as he chuckles softly. “Mr. Carson, we’re looking for a friend of yours.”

My eyes shift to back to the facial recognition software. Sixty percent finished and not one damn match. “I don’t have any friends.” “Oh, sure you do.” “Which agency are you with?” I ask. “Let me see some credentials.” “We’re not with any agency. Our interests are more personal.” “You’re going to have to be more specific...” The software halts, matching her face to one name: Lilah Anne Hart. Deceased. Born in Madison, Wisconsin. Died in Madison, Wisconsin. And yet… here she is. “How’s this for specific, Bart…?” she says, her voice falling firmer.

“Either you open this door and answer my questions right now or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll kick your fucking teeth in.” I raise my brow. “You talk a lot for a dead girl, Lilah.” She flexes her jaw in anger as I speed-read her file. Her parents died when she was seven, leaving her and her two brothers in the care of their ailing grandparents. No record of a home address, which is extremely strange… They went through a lot of trouble to erase it from existence. Why? I look back at the monitor. “And the gentleman behind you must be Elijah, your also dead twin. Hello there—”

“Where is Fox Fitzpatrick?” she asks, cutting right to the damn chase. Holy shit. I cross-check their names against the master file — yeah, the master file, the one I cracked into to help Fox expose his former employer — the most deadly criminal organization on the planet. Snake Eyes. You saw the news that week. It was hard to miss. It all started with a dead almost-President and a kidnapped movie starlet and ended with her in the hospital and the F.B.I. announcing that an underground organization of assassins existed and anyone could be among them. The country has been a mess ever since. A modern day fucking witch hunt.

And now, Lilah and Elijah Hart have come knocking. I scan their files again. Elite Snake Eyes agents. He’s a medic, for the most part, and she’s… Ah, crap. A chill of fear crawls down my spine. I don’t feel it often anymore but it definitely makes itself known whenever Snake Eyes is involved and right now there’s two of them standing at my damn door. “Who?” I ask, stalling. “Fox Fitzpatrick,” she repeats. “We know you know him. We know you were with him at the hotel in Colorado. Just tell us where he is now and I’ll leave your index fingers intact so you can keep—” she points her fingers and

flexes them back and forth “—tapping away at those keys.” I stand up and grab my messenger bag off the floor. “I assure you, you are quite mistaken,” I say, rushing to unplug my laptop and shove it inside. Again, her lips curl on her smug, little face. “That’s all right. Our mistake. We’ll just go ask your wife instead. Perhaps she knows where her old army buddy is.” I freeze. “I don’t have a wife.” “Oh, we both know that’s not true.” Fuck. My heart tightens. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. Lilah’s eyebrow inches upward. “Mr. Carson?” she sings.

I throw my bag over my shoulder and grab my phone, feeling completely torn in half by the fight-or-flight standoff wrecking my sympathetic nervous system. There are two options here: I can stay and fight or I can crawl through the window and slide down the fire escape before they realize I’m gone — hopefully. I should stay. It’s the heroic thing to do, right? Stand my ground. Protect what’s mine. Once more unto the breach — “Mr. Carson?” Her eyes get even narrower as her impatience comes to a head. I step over to my desktop computer and activate the worm, filling my

account with a quarter of a million untraceable dollars to run away with. See? I told you I wasn’t Robin Hood. My name is Bartholomew Eugene Carson — but you can call me Boxcar. Everyone else does.

Chapter 2 Caleb Los Angeles Present Day “Hey, sweetie — how much for the 9-iron?” I twitch. Nothing pisses me off more than when random, strange men start firing terms of endearment at me but I can’t risk losing another sale right now. I throw on my best customerserving smile and crane my neck to get a better look over the counter. “Oh, that

one is two-hundred and fifty.” “Dollars?!” “Yes, sir.” He waddles towards the counter and his bulbous gut quivers beneath his shirt. “It’s a damn golf club.” “It’s an antique,” I point out, still smiling. His eyes blink as if I just spoke some foreign language. “It’s a golf club.” I hold my breath, trying very hard not to sigh with annoyance. “It’s a really nice golf club, sir...” “I’ll give you twenty for it.” Are you fucking kidding me? “I’m sorry, sir. Prices are final.” He scoffs and tosses the club to the floor. “What the hell kind of pawn shop

is this? I want to speak to the manager.” I clear my throat. “You’re looking at her.” His cackle travels through my ears and down my spine. “No, honey. I mean the owner—” “Yeah. That’s me.” He looks me up and down and his eyes pause just a hair too long on my cleavage. “You? What are you, like, four-foot-nine?” “Five-five in heels but that’s not really relevant to the one-hundred-yearold golf club you just dropped on my damn floor.” “Yeah,” he chuckles, “and what are you gonna do about it, huh?” “Pick it up.”

He keeps laughing and little drops of spit hit the counter between us. “Yeah, sure, honey — I’ll get right on that once you’re done sucking me off like a good, little girl.” I inhale a deep breath. Saturdays always bring in the absolute worst customers, especially the last ones of the night. There’s something about this city that attracts the most worthless scum in the world but I guess that’s one of the reasons why I strayed out here in the first place. It’s easy to get lost in the fray and blend in with the bright lights of old Hollywood Boulevard. City of Angels, my ass. “Pick it up,” I repeat. He steps back, humoring me.

“Okay, okay…” He waves his hands and bends over to grab the club. I watch him closely — looking for any sudden flexes in his muscles. His fingers wrap around the thin grip, instantly going white with his tight squeeze. There’s a stiffness in his abdomen as he clenches up and he quickly inhales. Yep. That’s what I thought. He rises fast, spinning around to strike me with the club. I’m sure he has his reasons; an uppity woman having the audacity to “disrespect him” most likely reigning at the top of his list. I’ve dealt with insecure fuckwads like him in the past and I’m positive he won’t be the last of them.

I easily block the blow with one hand, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and holding it in the air. He tries to tug away but he can’t. The surprise in his eyes is absolutely delicious. “Apologize,” I say, calm as standing water. “What the fuck—” I twist his hand, bending it just a touch more than its meant to, and he squeals like a little, pink piglet. The club slips from his hand and I grab it as his instincts kick in. He tries to fight back but not before I pull him down to the counter and hold him against it with the club, pushing it hard into the back of his neck like a rolling pin. “Porky, I’m going to ask again and

then I’m going to get mad,” I say. “Apologize, please.” His wet breath heaves against the glass counter top, fogging it up with his stench. “All right — all right — I was just fuckin’ around. Don’t gotta be such a bitch about it—” I dig in harder and he shrieks. “Fuck— lady! I’m sorry!” I push into him as I let him go, bouncing back to put a bit of distance between us. “Now, get out of my shop.” I keep my grip on the club as he rises, ready to beat him with it if he drifts even an inch closer. He straightens up and adjusts his jacket, his eyes once again falling to my chest. This time, he looks right passed my tits and notices the dog tags hanging

from my neck. “Christ, lady… what are you? Army?” “Once upon a time,” I answer. His face shifts from annoyance to respect. “Thank you for your service—” “Dude, get the fuck out.” “Right.” He spins around and rushes outside without looking back. I hop over the counter and walk across the aisle to hang the golf club back up onto the wall where he got it. A quick glance around the empty shop tells me there were no witnesses to that little spat — either that, or they all bailed the second he tried to hit me. That’s Los Angeles for you. I ain’t seen nothing, officer. Oh, well. It’s almost midnight

anyway. Might as well close up and count the pennies I earned today selling old, used shit to the masses. Tomorrow is Sunday. Sunday is my favorite day of the week. It’s my day off, it’s quiet, but most of all… debt collectors take the day off, too. Twenty-four whole hours to myself. It’s all I have to look forward to every week. And then it’s back to this dump I call my basement.

Chapter 3 Caleb Afghanistan Two Years Ago “Hey, Fawn — you stay back.” I nod and roll my eyes, thankfully hidden behind the shaded goggles on my head. “Yes, sir.” It’s not the first time Sergeant Rhys has told me to keep to the rear in a potentially dangerous situation and honestly, I don’t really blame him. Society is hardwired to protect women

and children and I get that, but I signed up for this war just like every other man in my unit. By default, they are soldiers. I have to prove it. “Damn, you are seething right now…” The soft chuckle beside me belongs to Fox Fitzpatrick, possibly the only friend I’ve made since I was shipped out to this damn desert. “No, I’m not,” I say, steadying the tone of my voice. Fox looks ahead at the sergeant to make sure he’s not watching and quickly raises his goggles up to scratch his nose. He squints his brown eyes to block the harsh sunlight above our heads. As he targets the stubborn itch, he accidentally wipes a bit of dirt on his clean-shaven,

underwear model-like cheeks. At least the gritty look is in around these parts. “Okay, then,” he grins, sliding his goggles back into place over his eyes. “You’d think he’d let me take point,” I say. “I’m the one that noticed the damn signal that led us to the weapons cache.” “Eh, you don’t know who could be in there,” Fox replies, resting his rifle on his shoulder. “Better to let them go in first to check it out.” “Yeah, it’s a great strategy. Stick their best close-quarters combat soldier in the back with the sniper. That’s definitely how you win wars.” He laughs again. “Seething—” “Shut up.”

The five of us close in on the warehouse and Rhys signals us to stop. Fox readies his rifle in both hands while I keep my grip on mine. “Fawn, Fitzpatrick—” Rhys says. “You two check the perimeter. Neutralize anyone that comes out — except us.” “Yes, sir,” Fox and I reply in unison. The three of them slowly push into the building with their heads down and guns up. A sting of jealously strikes me but I shake it off quickly. Maybe Fox is right. I have a better chance at going home again if I play it safe but I didn’t exactly enlist in the United States Army to work on my tan.

Fox and I walk side-by-side around the warehouse. I switch to my side arm while he scans the distance around us for any sign of movement. I peek around every corner we pass, each one revealing nothing at all. An odd sense rolls down my neck. “This isn’t right…” I mutter. “Intel said there were at least a dozen men here.” “Maybe they’re all inside?” “They’d have regular perimeter patrols,” I point out. “There’s supposed to be an entire armory in there. This doesn’t make any sense.” I look up as we reach the rear of the warehouse, noticing the crushed roof along the back wall. “This place has already been

hit…” Fox scans the damage himself, slowly nodding his head. “Think we’re too late?” “Shh—” My ears perk at the sudden, rhythmic sound. “Do you hear that?” He lowers his gun and tilts his head, raising his ear higher into the air. “Is that music?” I step closer and pull my helmet off so I can lay my ear against the hard, stone wall. “American music…” “These guys certainly have a thing for pop culture.” I raise an eyebrow. “Calling the kettle black, aren’t ya?” “Shut up.”

I exhale a soft laugh but quickly stop. Now isn’t the time to tease Fox about his movie star crush. I push my helmet back on and stand up to keep moving around the warehouse. “Hello?” We pause and turn back to the singing wall. The music’s volume dims and the voice calls out again. “Hello?!” Fox knocks on the stone. “Hello!” he greets. “Oh, thank fuck.” The man’s voice cries and he laughs loudly. “Englishspeaking people!” I stare at Fox with confusion and he holds back a laugh. “Are you all right, sir?” I ask. “I’m doing much better right now.”

This must be the American journalist being held captive inside the warehouse. “We’re here to get you out, sir. Sit tight,” I tell him. “Oh, believe me, honey — I’m not going anywhere.” I flex my jaw and Fox’s lips curl once again. “Is there anyone inside with you?” Fox asks the wall. “Any guards or other prisoners?” “Nope. It’s just me.” I holster my side arm and we move around the building to find another way inside, looking for a place to start digging away rocks that won’t cause the rest of the building to collapse on the guy. Although, after hearing him call me

honey, I don’t think it’d be the worst loss the world has ever known. We start rolling debris out of the way, constantly glancing over our shoulders in case someone is looking to sneak up on us but no one shows up. Whatever this place was used for, it was abandoned a long time ago. Something definitely isn’t right. Finally, a hole forms and light shines through to the other side. The man’s laughter echoes through it as he crawls out with a small messenger bag on his back and he collapses against the sand at our feet. I slide my goggles off to get a better look at him. He’s just a damn kid, no older than myself or Fox. His hair is

dirty, along with his skin and clothes and there’s a smear of dried blood wiped along his forehead beneath a pair of filth-covered glasses. He rolls over onto his back and smiles up at the two of us with dry, cracked lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have some water, would you?” I share a look with Fox before he reaches for his canteen and kneels down to hand it to him. “So, uh…” Fox begins, “want to tell us what’s going on?” The man sits up and chugs the entire canteen dry, spilling more of it onto his chin than down his throat. “I got trapped,” he finally chokes out. “Right…” I mutter. “We received

word of an American journalist being held captive in a weapons cache—” The man shakes his head. “Never happened.” Fox stands up. “Never happened?” “Sorry. I lied.” I stare at Fox again and we both blink with confusion. “You what?” He reaches out his hand and Fox takes it to help him up. “Yeah, sorry… I hid out in here during the last raid and the ceiling kind of caved in on me…” “Uh huh…” I take in the features of his face. Full, boyish cheeks. Dimpled chin. Green eyes. He stands about an inch taller than myself. I glance down at his sneakers and jeans and all the way back up to the thin, white dress shirt

that’s now completely soaked through with sweat and dirt. “The last raid in this area was three days ago.” “Is that all? Feels longer…” Fox shifts in his boots and holds up a hand. “Okay, wait— what do you mean you lied?” The man pats his duffel bag. “I hacked your equipment.” My jaw drops. “You did what?” “I sent the intel,” he admits. “Made up a story about a bunch of evil terrorists guarding some crap, I don’t know. Dehydration has me kind of loopy —” “You realize that’s a felony, right?” I ask. He chuckles, flashing his perfect,

white teeth at me. “Believe me, honey, there are far easier ways of getting me in handcuffs.” Fox lays a hand on my shoulder and gently eases me away to keep me from punching this bastard in the jaw. “Sir, that’s enough of that, please…” he says to him, although Fox can’t keep the smile from spreading on his face. “So, the roof caved in, trapped you inside, and you hacked our equipment with a distress signal to come and get you out?” The man nods along with him. “Right.” “How?” His hand slips into his bag and pulls out one corner of his laptop. “I

wrote a program that transmits a frequency wave that hijacks any vulnerable government equipment within about ten miles. Kid stuff, really… The only downside is that I had no way of differentiating between American equipment and the not-so American equipment. So, they could just as easily be headed here right now to shoot me but it was either take the gamble or die of starvation and/or exposure and that sounds really unpleasant, so…” He shrugs. I narrow my eyes at him, inhaling slowly to keep the annoyed rage at bay. “Who the hell are you?” He adjust the strap on his bag, tightening it over his shoulder, and grins

at me. “I’m Boxcar.”

Chapter 4 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day Los Angeles. What a fucking dump. I promised myself I’d never travel this far west again unless out of absolute necessity but I guess having two assassins on my trail qualifies. Elijah and Lilah Hart. I spent my flight over here digging for skeletons and reading up on them. Apparently, they

aren’t the only members of the Hart family in Snake Eyes; the other being their big brother, Dante, and I definitely hope he’s not traveling around with them right now. If I have any luck left in the world — and that is one big if — he’s hiding out in their childhood home on Geneva Lake. That’s right, assholes, not quite as hidden as you thought. Let’s just say I did the right thing running away with my damn tail between my legs. This family isn’t one I want to fuck with and I get the feeling my research only scratches the surface of that iceberg. There’s only one person I know that can confirm my suspicion and he’s living happily ever after in the

Hollywood Hills with his movie star girlfriend-slash-stepsister. Sorry, bro. I dial his number from a coffee shop down the street from their new house, taking advantage of the shop’s free wi-fi signal to bounce the call through various towers and encrypt my location. Sure, the Hart twins found me in Boston but I won’t make it so easy for them to track down my location in Los Angeles. “Hello?” “Fox! Old buddy, old pal! How are you?” I speak a little too loudly, drawing the attentions of the damn hipsters and wannabe novelists sitting around me so I lower my voice. Adrenaline tends to

mess with my ability to maintain calmness and my pulse is thumping like a damn drumline right now. “Boxcar?” “Yeah, man. Hey — listen. I’m in Los Angeles. Come have a drink with me.” There’s a long moment of silence before Fox finally sighs. “What did you do?” I snort in defense. “What did I do? What do you mean what did I do?” “Fox, who is it?” “Go back to sleep, Dani,” he whispers. I hear the ruffling of bedsheets as he stands up. “You still asleep, man?” I ask. “It’s noon.”

“No, it’s five in the morning, actually,” he whispers. “What?” I glance at my laptop’s clock, trying to count the difference in hours but I give up quickly. “Where are you?” A door slides closed and he answers at normal volume. “Tokyo.” “Tokyo?!” I spit, once again drawing side-eyes from people around my table. “Why the hell are you in Japan?” Fox yawns. “Dani’s on her press tour for Night Trials.” “Oh yeah… that movie you had a perfectly good screener for but refused to send me,” I bite. “You’ll see it with the rest of the

world next month, Box.” “Dick.” “Why are you in Los Angeles?” I chew on my inner cheek. I really hoped to talk to him in person about this. There’s not much he can do from the other side of the Pacific Ocean and there’s no way he’ll make it here before the Hart twins do. Still, I can’t not tell him there are former Snake Eyes agents out there looking for him. “You have a problem, Fox.” “What kind of problem?” “Last night…” I lower my voice, taking full control of its volume. “Some Snake— reptilian folks showed up at my place in Boston looking for you.” “Are you sure?” he asks quickly.

“Positive. My guess is they figured out who was behind the exposure and they aren’t too happy about it.” “Do you know who they were?” “Yeah — Elijah and Lilah Hart.” I wait for a reaction but silence screams back at me. “Fox?” “I’ll be on the next flight home.” “No,” I say. “That’s a horrible idea. As of right now, they don’t know where you are.” “But they know where you are,” he says. “You don’t want to get cornered by the Harts, Boxcar… especially Lilah.” I laugh, forcing any manliness I have to the surface. “I think I can handle —” “No, Box,” he interrupts. “You

really can’t.” I deflate. “I know, man. I’m kinda in over my head here.” “Lay low,” he tells me. “Just go into hiding for a while until I can come home and deal with it myself.” It’s always been my first instinct. Run away. It’s not like I don’t have the means to do it right now. I have plenty of untraceable money to throw at an escape plan. There’s nothing stopping me, except… “I can’t, Fox.” “Why not?” “Because they know about Caleb.” Fox pauses and exhales a breath. “Then you know what you have to do.” I wince. “I know, but…” Our brief

history rushes to the front of my mind. “I don’t wanna.” “Boxcar…” “This isn’t exactly the reunion I had in mind!” “Well, it’s the one you’re getting,” he argues. “You can’t walk away from this. If she’s in danger, you have to tell her about it. Now.” “Yeah, but…” I snap my fingers. “I know! You can call her and I’ll—” “Nope.” “Dammit.” I sit back and sigh loudly. Caleb Fawn. The love of my life. The bane of my existence. “Fine. I’ll go see her.” “If something goes wrong, she can protect you.” He’s not wrong. Caleb

saved my ass plenty while we were all overseas. “You should be able to find her in the loft above—” “Above her shop.” I twist my neck until it pops. “Yeah, I know…” “Been keeping tabs on her?” I wince. “Kind of.” “Well,” he says, “you never know. Maybe she’ll be happy to see you.” I laugh. “Doubt it. I haven’t seen her since…” My words fail. Almost two years later and I still can’t say it out loud. “Since we came back,” I say instead. “Just keep your cool and everything will be fine,” Fox says. “I’ll try and get stateside as soon as I can.” “Stay away, man,” I warn. “I’m not

worth getting caught over.” It’s quite possibly the most heroic thing I’ve ever said but it’s also honest. Fox’s life matters to other people. Mine? Not so much. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Fox says. “I can’t just sit out here and do nothing. I’m coming home.” “Fine.” The air around me weighs heavy and smothers my shoulders. I push it aside. “Oh! How about — instead — you stay in Japan and take Dani to one of those love hotels. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” Fox chuckles. “I’m not doing that.” “Seriously! I read about one in Shinjuku. They’ll deliver a girl to your room and you can eat sushi off her

bellybutton. Dani will love it!” “This conversation is a pretty sterling example for why you’re still single, Boxcar.” “Ooo! Look at me!” I mock. “I’m Fox Fitzpatrick. I’m a man of action. I jump out of windows and date movie stars! We can’t all be James Bond, dude. Some of us are perfectly content with being Q.” “Quit stalling and go talk to Caleb.” “Fine,” I exhale. “Say hi to your sister for me.” “Stepsister.” “Still weird.” “Bye, Box.” “Buh-bye.” I hang up and fall

forward until my head hits the table. Caleb Fawn. The last time I saw her, she told me she never wanted to see my face again. Not exactly how a man pictures the end of his honeymoon, but… Shit happens, right?

Chapter 5 Boxcar Afghanistan Two Years Ago I jiggle my hands, listening to the metal clanging of handcuffs latched around my wrists. The chain is fastened to the floor beneath my chair, making it nearly impossible for me to stand up. I guess this is where they throw prisoners of war they need to question. It sure would be nice if they did that — or, at the very least, made some sort of contact

with me. The walls are made of metal and I’ve officially sweat out all the water that soldier gave me. It’s been about an hour since they dropped me into this room. I could easily have picked the cuffs by now but I’d really rather not get shot today and it’s not like I could just sneak out of here without someone noticing. I’m fucked. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. I’m on the road to Fuckedville with a one-way ticket. No stops. No piss breaks. No way out — but can they really blame me for doing what I did? If they could, I’m sure they would have done the same. Stuck in the desert with no water, trapped in a collapsed room with nothing but a laptop

and brains. Of course, I sent out that signal. I’d do it again if I had to. Finally, the door opens and that same tall, butch son-of-a-bitch that threw me in here steps inside. Sergeant Rhys, if I recall? “Excuse me,” I say, clearing my dry throat. “May I have some water, please?” He slams the door behind him and lingers over my chair. “You’re in some trouble, son.” “I’m also an American citizen,” I point out. “Last I checked, that warrants a sippy cup.” He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest, flexing his mighty biceps as if it would intimidate me. “How did

you hack our equipment?” “I already told you,” I sigh. “Your equipment functions through satellites, which transmits waves—” “You’ve said that already.” I pause. “Well, sir, you asked twice —” “Where’d you learn to do that?” he asks. “I looked it up.” “Where?” “The internet.” He chuckles but he’s far from amused. “You looked up how to hack into highly sophisticated government equipment on the internet?” I scoff. “Your equipment is hardly sophisticated, Sergeant. In fact, I can list

off about a half dozen more exploits that are just as easy to break into and don’t require nearly as much effort. Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of radio frequencies and mechanical engineering could figure it out.” “Really?” “Yup.” He pauses and chews on his lip for a moment. “You’re in some trouble.” “You have a real problem with repeating yourself, man…” “But I can get you out of it.” I raise a brow. “How?” He turns and grabs the second chair from the corner and sets it down in front of me. “How old are you?” I straighten up a little taller as he

sits down, listening to the familiar jingle of cuffs. “Twenty.” “As it stands right now, you’re looking at about twice that in prison,” he says. “Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I sent out an S.O.S.” “And you put the lives of myself and four of my men at risk in the process.” “That’s not very P.C. of you, Serg,” I point out. “I believe one of the soldiers that dug me out was a woman—” “Kid...” He leans forward. “I’m serious. Now, I can ship you back to the United States today where you won’t see the outside of a cell until you’re sixty or… you can wise up and work for us.”

I wait for his stare to break but he never flinches. “What?” He eases back in his chair. “You say our equipment is subpar.” “Your equipment blows, actually.” “Then fix it,” he says. “I’m sure you have a few ideas in that head of yours, right?” “I might.” He shrugs and stands up. “You work for us, tighten our security, keep me and my men safe, and you won’t see a day behind bars.” “For how long?” His chin juts to the side. “You got somewhere else to be?” “Don’t you?” “Quite…” He reaches into his

pocket and withdraws a key. “Let’s just say long enough for me to forget to ever ask you what the hell you’re doing out in the middle of the damn Afghani desert alone in the first place. Does that sound fair?” My eyes scrape the floor. “Yeah, that’s fair.” “Smart kid.” He gestures for my hands and I raise them as high as the chain will allow. The cuffs drop off my wrists and he lets them fall to the floor. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go meet my team.” He leads me outside and I immediately hold up a hand to shield the sun from melting the fucking eyes out of my skull. I don’t know how they do it.

Here I am in a white shirt and its done nothing to keep me cool since I got here while these guys walk around in outfits made of who-knows-what. Looks thick, whatever it is. I can’t imagine what these guys must smell like after a single day… The camp is small, surrounded by nothing but desert on all sides. A large tent sits in the center with communications equipment stacked on tables and large generators to power them. There are three jeeps parked in a line on the far side next to a pair of very cringe-worthy porta-potties. On the opposite side, some soldiers sit around a long table with prepackaged food, enjoying a shade that I would very much like to get into.

We finally walk into a small barracks with about a dozen cots — two rows of six with an aisle between them and a tent overhead that’s been torn in several places and crudely repaired with duct tape. It must be downtime as most of the cots have body-shaped lumps in them. I guess you catch whatever sleep you can out here. The air grows tense as we pass the occupied mattresses. Some soldiers stand to attention but the sergeant waves them down. All of them stare at me as I pass by them and their faces tell me all I need to know about their thoughts. Who’s this asshole? Rhys stops at the back of the tent and my eyes instantly fall on the girl that

helped dig me out. She lies on her back with her neck propped up on a really uncomfortablelooking pillow with a very tempting bottle of water in her small hand. “Team, this is Carson,” Rhys announces, his eyes scanning the four cots at the back. I pull my eyes away from the girl and make eye contact with the other three — one I recognize as the soldier who gave me water. The others I also recognize but only because one kicked me to the ground while the other handcuffed me. Pricks. All four of them stand up and Rhys steps to the side. “This is Rogers,” he

says, pointing to The Kicker, a muscular man with buck teeth and black hair. His hand moves down the line to The Cuffer, yet another muscular guy except he’s got red hair and a cleft chin. “This is West — Fitzpatrick — and Fawn.” Fawn. That’s cute. “Sup?” I greet. “Carson is going to be joining our unit from here on out,” Rhys explains. The girl blinks with confusion. I don’t notice if the others do the same as my eyes are pretty much locked on her. Her hair is trimmed short, auburn in color. The tent blocks plenty of light but I can easily see green irises shining out from behind her long eyelashes. Pointed cheekbones, concave cheeks. She’s

fucking gorgeous and I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell she’s doing out here. “In what capacity, sir?” she asks. Rhys shrugs. “I don’t know—” He looks back at me. “A civilian… intelligence freelancer. That sounds official enough. Basically, he broke our equipment and he’s gonna fix it for us.” “Well, it’s not really broken,” I say. “It’s just shitty…” “Either way, he’s part of our unit and we’ll treat him like it from here on out. Sound good?” “Yes, sir,” they all say in unison. I flinch slightly at the sudden bark of voices. I guess I’ll just have to get used to that if I’m going to be hanging out with

the cast of Platoon. “Fawn—” Rhys says. “I’m sticking him with you. Keep an eye on him.” Her posture sinks. “Sir—?” “Show him around. Teach him the rules. Keep him from getting shot at.” She steps forward, trying very hard to keep her cool. “Sir, I’m not—” “As you were, boys,” Rhys says, spinning around and darting down the aisle fast enough to dodge her questions. I turn back to the team, my eyes once again falling on her. “You can call me Boxcar,” I say. “No one calls me Carson.” Fitzpatrick steps forward as The Kicker and The Cuffer wander back to their cots again to ignore me. He holds

out his hand. “Fox,” he says. “Rabbit,” I say, shaking his hand. He chuckles. “It’s my name.” “Cool. I figured, but then again, why give up the opportunity to list off cute, woodland creatures, am I right?” Fox’s hand drops to his side and he gestures to the girl. “This is Caleb.” Caleb. She stands still, ignoring the hand I extend out to her. Only her eyes move, darting to look past her little button nose at my dirt-covered fingers. “Excuse me.” As she darts past, I catch a quick whiff of her scent — one far more pleasant than I ever thought possible in this area of the world. I can’t imagine she has perfume stashed in her

footlocker but I detect flowers in my nose for a brief, wonderful moment. I turn to watch her exit and my eyes fall to her perfect, toned ass as it sways back and forth with anger. I look at Fox. “Was it something I said?” “Rabbit, probably,” he nods. “Ahh…” Fox pats my shoulder and shifts around to plop back down onto his cot. “She’ll adapt… always does.” He gestures for me to sit down on the cot next to his — Caleb’s cot — and I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to smell her again, so I lower myself down. I gaze over my shoulder, meeting the suspicious eyes of the other soldiers

scattered about the tent. I lean forward to whisper. “Am I gonna get a code red in here, or…?” He chuckles, running his hand over his buzzed, brown hair. “Nah… tensions are just a little high right now.” “Why?” “War.” I smile. “Of course. Silly me.” Fox’s attention draws behind me and I turn again to see Caleb rushing back into the tent. Her eyes are downcast and her cheeks are bright red with a subtle, controlled rage. As she reaches her cot, she spots me sitting on it and she halts in her tracks. “Caleb…” Fox clears his throat with playful eyes. “You okay?”

She inhales a deep breath, one that obviously fills her lungs to the very top. “I’m fine.” Her voice quivers softly. “So—” I point around. “How long have you guys been out here?” Fox looks up, counting in his head. “We’ve been at this camp about six months,” he answers. “Before that, it was about a year in Iraq.” “Damn,” I say. I glance up at Caleb. “You, too?” She doesn’t even look at me. “Yeah.” Her hands rise to her hips and I see her fingertips dig into her sides. “Wow — I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.” “What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks.

“Just… stuff. Hey—” I look around. “I thought they didn’t allow lady soldiers this far into the combat zone, or am I wrong?” Fox starts laughing but cuts it off quickly as his eyes shoot up to Caleb. “They usually don’t…” he says, “but somebody assigned her without realizing her name was unisex. No one super important has noticed yet and she’s too good to trade anyway, so… we keep it quiet.” “Ohhh…” I look up at her and she throws me a side-ways glance. “Looks like we’re both outsiders around here.” “Excuse me.” She spins around and swishes those little hips away. Of course, I stare at those tight cheeks as

she exits the tent again. “Does she do that a lot?” I ask Fox. He shrugs. “I guess you just bring that out in people.” “Story of my life.” Caleb Fawn. My reluctant protector. This should be fun.

Chapter 6 Caleb Afghanistan Two Years Ago “Sergeant!” He quickens his pace in a futile effort to avoid me. Does it piss me off? You’re damn right it does. It always has ever since the moment I was assigned to his unit. The lack of mutual respect between us is wearing thin. “Sergeant!” I watch him flinch as he turns

around. He slides his hat off to rub the thick, prickly hairs on his round, sweaty head. “What is it, Fawn?” “Sir, I have a problem with this.” “With what?” He kicks a lump of sand with the heel of his boot. “With Carson, sir.” “Look— I don’t like it either, but he could prove useful—” “I don’t mean that,” I say. “I mean passing him off to me. I’m not a babysitter, sir.” His lips twitch. I can’t tell if he’s amused or pissed. Maybe both. “Well, what would you have me do with him?” “I… I don’t know but, sir, it’s not my job to look after civilian intelligence freelancers.”

“Your job is to do whatever I tell you to do, Fawn.” “I ain’t arguing against that, sir,” I say, “I just think my skills could be put to better use than this.” “Fawn…” he sighs with impatience. “You should thank your lucky stars you’re even out here in the first place. I could have sent you back home but I didn’t.” “I know that, sir — and I really appreciate that, but—” “I like you, Fawn. I do.” He slides his hat back on to block out the harsh sun and I sense the tone of his voice harden. If I want to make an argument, I better do it now. “You’re one hell of a good soldier and you can hold your own

against most everybody here—” “Sir—” “—but I can’t help it if I sleep better knowing you’re not first in line to get shot at or worse. Now — Carson has a job to do and it’s your job now to make sure he does it. Understood?” “I don’t trust him, sir.” “And neither do I. Let’s just say that’s another reason why I’m entrusting him with you.” He takes a quick step closer. His brow hangs over his eyes, casting a purposeful shadow along the bridge of his nose. “Understood, Fawn?” I force my argument beneath my tongue. There’s no changing Rhys’ mind on this. It’d be stupid for me to keep

bashing my head into this wall and I’ve already got a big enough headache right now as it is. “Yes, sir.” “Now, go play nice and keep a close eye on him,” he says, spinning on his heel. “Find him a bed and some clean clothes.” “Yes, sir…” I mutter. “Like you mean it, Fawn.” “Yes, sir.” “Atta girl.” He wanders off, leaving me more pissed off than when I first walked out here. Goddammit. I head back to the barracks to get out of the sun and embrace the shade for a few moments until I reach my cot. Of

course, Carson — or whatever the hell he calls himself — is sitting on it with his mud-covered slacks and filthy hands. “Caleb…” Fox looks up at me, obviously hinting at me to play nice just like Rhys told me to. “You okay?” I inhale a heavy breath. “I’m fine.” “So—” Boxcar makes a wide hand gesture. It’s obviously meant to grab my attention but I keep my eyes down. “How long have you guys been out here?” “About a year now,” Fox answers him. “We’ve been at this camp about six months. Before that, it was about a year in Iraq.” “Damn. You, too?” I shift my hands up onto my hips,

feeling his eyes on me. There’s a temptation in me to meet his gaze but I force it aside. I’ll admit, there’s something interesting about him but he can’t be trusted — that much is obvious. “Yeah.” “Wow — I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.” “What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks him. I finally let my eyes fall on him. “Just… stuff.” Bingo. He won’t even answer the question. He doesn’t even have a rehearsed lie to answer with instead. He’s changing the subject and Fox the Trusting is falling for it. Whatever this Boxcar is doing out here, it’s not good.

I study his face. Youthful but wise — he’d be almost charming if he knew how to use it right. Boxcar cranes his neck to look up at me and I almost flinch. “Looks like we’re both outsiders out here.” “Excuse me.” I turn around and exit the tent again, feeling his trained eyes on me the entire time. If I’m going to figure out what he’s really up to, then I’m going to have up my game here. It pains me to say it but my gender might be the most helpful thing in this scenario. I saw the way he looked at me and I can use that to my advantage. Win him over. Gain his trust. Figure out what he’s up to before it gets us all

killed. “Caleb,” Fox says, bridging the short distance between us. I glance up from my hiding spot behind the crates stacked up near the jeeps. Nothing but desert as far as the eye can see. It’s about the only calming sight one can find out here and it’s exactly what I need right now. “Fox,” I greet him. “You want to talk about it?” he asks, smiling wide. “Not really, no.” “Come on, it’s not that bad.” “That’s easy for you to say…” I cross my arms. “You’re not the one that has to play bodyguard to some annoying tag-a-long.”

He chuckles. “You have to admit — it could be worse.” “This isn’t funny, Fox.” “Boxcar doesn’t seem so bad.” I sigh. “Except for the part where he could easily be up to no good,” I point out. “You saw how he dodged your questions. What the hell is he even doing out here?” “We’ll figure that out,” Fox says. “In the meantime, we might as well make the best of it.” I breathe a laugh. “You and that optimism, Fox…” I shake my head. “I don’t know how you do it out here.” He gives a half shrug. “I’ve already lost the most important thing in the world to me. Whatever this place can throw at

me… it won’t be nearly as bad as that.” I nod softly. Fox and his taboo girl. He talks about her more often than he’ll admit and probably thinks about her even more than that. Part of me wonders if he came all the way out here just to avoid her name in sparkling lights around every corner. “Well… could be worse, right?” I muse. He pauses for a moment. “Yeah. Definitely.” Liar. I don’t blame him, though. My mind drifts back to Boxcar and I practice a friendly smile to use on him. It’s time to find out who the hell this guy is.

Chapter 7 Caleb Present Day Los Angeles Sundays. My one day off. I used to keep Fawn’s Pawn open seven days a week but that just wasn’t sustainable. Even control freaks like me get tired sometimes and there’s only so much one girl can do on her own. I sit down on my couch. It’s just after noon. I have the entire day to lounge, relax, eat shitty food, and watch

Netflix. I’ve been looking forward to it all week and nothing is going to stop me. There’s not a single thing in the world right now that can’t wait until Monday. I grab a soda and a bag of chips and head into the living room. As I sit down, I sink deep into the couch cushions and take a long, calming breath. Oh, yeah. Here we go— A knock strikes my door. “Ignore it…” I whisper aloud. I sit as frozen as ice, refusing to make a noise until I hear them leave. Another knock thumps against wood, this one more eager than the last. I take a quick breath, letting it soothe the rage building in my breast. This is my

day off. My one day off. I’ll just sit here and wait and eventually they’ll piss off and disappear. The impatient fist bangs even harder and I can’t hold back my voice. “Go away!” “Caleb, it’s me.” Oh, hell no. Hell-fucking-no. I’m dreaming. That’s what this is. It’s just a horrible nightmare. It seems awfully realistic. I look around my living room, marveling in the accurate representation of my loft. My couch in the center of the room, facing the television. One cardboard box in the corner full of movies because I haven’t bothered to buy shelving. Behind me is

the kitchen — if you can even call it one. Bare and simple. Across from that is my unmade bed. I just have to wake up, that’s all. I’ll wake up and his voice will once again be a distant memory. “Caleb!” Please wake up. “Go away!” I shout it again. “Please, Caleb. I need to talk to—” “Don’t finish that sentence, Boxcar — I swear to god…” I succumb to the truth. This is no dream. This is really happening. I am Rosemary staring down into the black bassinet. That baby with the glowing, red eyes is mine. I perk up my ears, preparing myself

to argue with him a little more but to my surprise, he says nothing. Not one damn word. I don’t know why he’s here and sure as hell don’t want to know — but I find his silence interesting nonetheless. Not interesting enough to get me off this couch, though. I reach for the television remote and flick it on, immediately navigating to my Netflix menu. There’s a certain show I’ve been dying to binge-watch and today’s the day I’m finally going to make a massive dent in season two. I push play and sit back into the cushions to immerse myself in the opening theme song. The picture freezes. I grit my teeth, waiting for it to buffer and keep going.

Any moment now… A message pops up, covering the entire screen. Please check your internet settings. Dammit. I pick up the remote again and navigate to the settings menu, flicking through until I reach the wi-fi settings. Incorrect password. Please reenter your password. Heat rises on my skin. I raise an eyebrow and tap my password in. Incorrect password. I input it again, this time making extra sure every button I push is correct. Incorrect password. I hop up off the couch, heaving a thick, annoyed sigh as I head over to the

router to make sure— Wait… That son-of-a-bitch. I rush to my door and throw it open. Boxcar stands in my hallway with his laptop balanced on one knee. He jolts as I step outside, nearly letting the thing fall to the floor but he catches it and closes it before it slips. “Did you just change my wi-fi password?” I seethe, staring him down like the bug he is. “Yes, I did,” he answers. “Change it back.” “No.” My eye twitches. “Boxcar…” “Caleb…” “Change it back!”

“No.” His eyes halo around my head. “Hey — you grew out your hair. It looks nice—” “Box…” I growl. He clears his throat and adjusts his posture, standing up a little taller. He only has about an inch or two on me in height but he’s trying very hard to stretch that out as much as possible. “I need your help.” “I don’t care.” My eyes fall down his body. He’s tired. I can tell that by the gray circles nestled beneath his glasses. He hasn’t combed his hair in a while either. His jacket is wrinkled and his fingers twitch subtly at his sides — meaning he’s had way too much coffee today or he’s scared shitless or both. I

shake off the analysis, forcing any instinct for concern away. “Why would you think I’d care?” “Caleb…” he pauses. “I just need a bit of your expertise—” “No.” “—and maybe a place to crash.” “Hell no.” “Please, Cal.” He’s desperate. Good. “No means no, Box,” I say, turning back around. “I don’t have time for this.” I step back into the loft and slam the door behind me, leaving his sorry ass outside. “Caleb…” I keep walking across the room towards to the router. Hopefully, I can reset it to the factory settings and change

the password to something he can’t easy crack into again. “Caleb—” His voice sounds muffled but close, almost as if he’s pressing his face against the door. “If you help me, I’ll… I’ll do it.” I stop in my tracks. “Do what?” It takes him a few moments to respond. “I’ll sign the papers.” My breath catches in my lungs as I spin back to the door and fling it open. He stands in the doorway, staring back at me with sadness behind his eyes. “You’ll what?” “I’ll sign the papers.” Holy shit. Whatever is going on with him must really be serious if he’s making this kind

of bargain. “You can’t just throw that out there unless you mean it, Box.” “I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “If you help me, I’ll give you the divorce.” I cross my arms and study him a little closer. There’s pain in his eyes; the kind I’ve never seen in him before. “What’s going on?” “Does that mean you’ll help?” “It means I’ll listen,” I say. “I make no promises.” “I’ll take it,” he says. “Can I come in?” I hesitate. Bad things tend to happen when Boxcar and I are alone together, no matter the context. “Talk,” I say, refusing to budge.

“Okay…” He slides his laptop into his messenger bag and lets it fall to the floor before leaning against the door frame. “So, I assume you’re up-to-date on this Snake Eyes crap?” “For the most part.” I shrug. “Fox filled me in on a few things. I thought you wiped out any record of his involvement.” “I did,” he says. “As far as the law is concerned, Fox was never involved but Snake Eyes remembers him pretty well. Two of them showed up at my place last night.” I do a quick scan of him again, checking for fresh bruises or scrapes or gunshot wounds. Old habit, I guess. There’s little to see of him around a

long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He definitely dresses like he’s from the New England area nowadays. It’s a little warm for it on this side of the country. He left in a hurry. “What did they want?” I ask. “They were looking for Fox. I denied I knew anything so…” he pauses and his eyes fall to the floor between us. “They said they’d come ask his old army buddy instead.” That would be me, obviously. It’s no surprise that Snake Eyes is pissed off at Fox for outing them. Of course some of them have decided to retaliate against him. “Why didn’t you go to Fox with this?” “I did. He’s safe for now — in

Japan.” I scoff. “So, I was an afterthought? Real cool, Box…” He tilts his head forward and glares at me over his black rims. “Like you’re going to fault me for going to our buffer first?” I pause for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.” He looks back at me with growing concern; concern I originally assumed was for his own well-being, but now I realize that’s not the case at all. He didn’t rush out here to save his own ass. He came out here to save mine. I take a step back and open the door the rest of the way. Boxcar bends down to retrieve his

bag and he follows me inside with wandering eyes that climb the walls. “So, this is nice…” he says. “It’s a dump, actually.” He instantly smiles and my heart flutters. Dammit. This is exactly why I didn’t want him in here in the first place. Boxcar might be a damn twerp but he’s an adorable one, too. I’ve always thought so, even when he grated my nerves so much I wanted to shoot him. “Do you want some coffee, or…?” “I think I’ve had more than enough in the last twelve hours, honestly…” “A beer, then?” I wander across the room to the kitchen and pull open the refrigerator door to grab two bottles.

“Sure,” he says. I pop the caps off the bottles and slide one over to him. He takes a drink, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. “How’s the shop?” I bite my inner cheek. Are we really going to do this? The small talk? The quick catch-up? “It’s great,” I lie. “Doing really well, actually.” He gives me an ambiguous look, like he knows more than he’s letting on, but he says nothing to confirm it. “Good.” “I’d ask how you’re doing with whatever but I honestly have no idea what you do anymore,” I say, taking a sip from my beer, quickly shifting the attention away from my own failures. “Except for exposing sex scandals in

Washington.” He winces. “You heard about that?” “I might have.” I smile. He looks down to hide his embarrassment. “Hey, the old bastard had it coming.” “I agree. So, is that all you’ve been up to? Punishing horrible men that prey on innocent people?” “Mostly, I guess. Odd jobs, here and there.” “You must keep awfully busy then.” “Well, what can I say? Not all heroes wear camouflage.” I catch myself from staring too hard through his spectacles and getting drawn into his bright, green eyes. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how easy it was.

“Um…” I blink to break his gaze from mine. “So, Fox. He’s in Japan?” “Yeah!” he says, jumping at the chance to pick apart someone else’s life. “With Dani — and can we talk about that for a second?” “I know!” I gasp. “They actually got together!” He shakes his head with wide, stunned eyes. “Of all the things—” “That could possibly happen — I know!” “I never thought for a second they had any chance of ending up together.” “Neither did I.” “First, the guy comes back from the dead,” he says, holding up his thumb. “Which was pretty much the weirdest

phone call I’ve ever received—” “He called you?” I ask, leaning forward. “Yeah.” “When?” He looks up, thinking fast. “Uhh… when he got to L.A. he called from the airport.” My jaw drops. “That fucker told you first?” Boxcar laughs and takes another drink. “Fox loves me more than you,” he teases. I try not to react to his laughter and I shake my head at him. “You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” “A little bit.” I take a slow sip of my beer. “He

came into my shop,” I recall, smiling. “Out of the blue, no warning. Just walked in like everything was normal — like he hadn’t been dead for the last two years.” “That must have been traumatic,” he chuckles. “It was. I closed the shop and brought him up here for a hug and a really vague explanation that ended with him borrowing my sniper rifle. It didn’t make much sense until he came back with Dani. Then it all became very clear.” “If you ask me, I would have preferred the face-to-face ghost encounter,” he says. “Shows a bit more respect to you, in my opinion.”

“I guess that explains why I didn’t get a phone call before you showed up here.” “More or less.” He takes a breath. “Also, if I had called first, you would have boarded up the windows and doors. I never would have gotten in here at all.” I laugh. “You’re probably right.” We stare across the counter at each other in a stiff holding pattern. The calm before the storm. “So, what’s she like?” I blink. “Dani?” “Yeah.” “She’s really nice, actually,” I answer. “Not at all like I expected of a girl like her.”

He nods. “She seemed cool. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her with the murderous assassin squad taking over our hotel.” “We’ve gone to dinner a few times since Fox moved out here.” “Oh, yeah?” he teases. “You’re just hanging out with movie stars now?” “Sometimes, yeah,” I laugh. “This city has changed you, Caleb Fawn.” He takes a drink, pouring the rest of it down his throat as he smiles back at me. “Jealous much?” “Maybe.” “Her new movie is really good—” “Whoa.” He holds up his hand. “He showed it to you?”

I nod. “Yeah.” “That son-of-a-bitch…” “Oh, come on,” I laugh. “You’re surprised he didn’t send an advanced copy of a big movie to a hacker known for leaking sensitive information?” He pauses. “Fair enough. Got anymore beer?” “Of course.” I turn around and jerk the door open, grabbing two more bottles off the shelf. “Although… drinking is probably not what we should be doing right now — considering the fact that there’s not one, but two, assassins after you. Is that right?” He takes one of the open bottles from me anyway and chugs a thick sip. “Ah, yes. The Hart twins.”

“Who are the Hart twins?” “Old acquaintances of Fox’s, apparently,” he says. “They aren’t happy their little secret has been blown.” “Not surprising…” I lean back against the refrigerator door. “How scary we talking here, Box?” “Well, on a scale of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure to The Exorcist… I’d say it’s about a Suspiria.” I chuckle. “Now you’re speaking my language.” He backs up from the counter and gestures into the empty living room. “Speaking of which — where is the famous movie collection?” My eyes fall. “Eh… had to dwindle it down a little.” Shame settles in my gut

as Boxcar wanders into the corner and peeks into the old box. “Is this what’s left of it?” he asks, bending down to sift through it. “Yeah.” He winces. “You dwindled down a little more than a bit, Cal.” “Things have been kind of tight lately.” I push off the refrigerator and step lightly into the living room. “You know, we should probably focus on—” Boxcar stands up quickly and faces me. “How long have you lived here?” “I don’t know. A while. Why?” His eyes take in his surroundings a little deeper and my chest clenches. “It doesn’t really look like it,” he notes. “It looks like you just moved in.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say. “Interior decorating hasn’t really been on my list of priorities. Can we please talk about something else? Maybe the deadly assassins on their way here to torture us both?” “No.” “No?” Boxcar steps forward, drawing so close to me I can just barely smell him. My nose erupts, filling my head with old memories I fought long and hard to forget about. “I want to know what’s going on with you.” I take a step back. “Since when?” “Caleb, I’m your husband.” “No—” I shake my head. “Do not throw the H-word around like it means

something, Boxcar. That’s not how this is going to work.” “It does mean something,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve always cared about you—” “Oh, please—” “You’re the one that kicked me out, remember?” he argues. “I didn’t just pack up and leave you.” “You didn’t exactly fight to stay either, did you?” “Would it have mattered?” he asks, shaking his head. “I highly doubt it would have made a difference to you.” “That’s not true.” “Seemed pretty true three days later when I was served with divorce papers, Caleb.”

“Please, Box…” I sigh from exhaustion. “Can we not?” He shifts on his feet, taking a few steps away from me with his head down. Boxcar has always worn his feelings on his sleeve and right now is no different. “No.” The urgency in his tone shoots up my spine. “Caleb, I know about your situation here. I want to help you.” I grit my teeth, breathing deep to calm the anger brewing inside. “I don’t need anyone’s help—” “You don’t have to act strong, Caleb,” he says. “Not for me.” “Don’t you dare go there, Boxcar. Drop this. Now.” “You know, I did as Fox asked me

to. You let him borrow some supplies and in return I looked into your debts and honestly — I really didn’t like what I saw.” I step back again as the weight of years of mistakes fall on me. “Box…” “What happened after I left, Caleb?” “Life happened!” I shout. “Real life. Most of us don’t have the luxury of knowing how to steal from rich guys’ offshore bank accounts. In the real world, people like me have to actually work for what we have.” “I’m not going to apologize for taking advantage of a broken system. And don’t turn this around. All I want to do to is help you.”

“I never asked for your help!” “And you never have to,” he says, his voice growing softer. “That’s the whole point. You and me — we were supposed to be a team but you couldn’t handle that. You couldn’t handle the idea of relying on anybody — especially not a man and especially not one like me.” I pause as his words strike me cold. “Box, what—” “I knew exactly what I was getting into with you, Caleb. Fox—” he pauses, chuckling softly. “He even tried to talk me out of it. He told me I didn’t have it in me to keep up with you and I knew he was right but I wanted you anyway. You were stronger than me, faster than me, better than me, in every way imaginable

but that just made me want you more. I thought undying devotion would be enough to make you want me back but turns out, you couldn’t see past the coward standing behind you.” I take a breath but it catches in my throat. “You think I thought you were a coward?” “I think you had every reason to,” he says, gesturing at me. “I mean, look at you. You’re perfect and badass and brave but I’m not. Be honest, Caleb — if Fox wasn’t so hung up on Dani, would you have ended up with him or me?” My jaw drops. “Is that what you really think?” “Am I wrong?” “Completely,” I say. “Fox died,

Boxcar.” “So, you settled for me?” “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” My ankles twitch, pulling me closer to him. “Fox meant a lot to me but I never once looked at him the way I looked at you. Men like that — the soldiers and the fighters — they don’t stick around for very long. You can’t depend on them to be always be there because each one of them has a bullet chasing them down and it hits them eventually.” He blinks with confusion. “We’re not out in the desert anymore, Cal…” “That doesn’t matter,” I say. “Even today, Fox is still running from it. Ask Dani if you don’t believe me. Ask her if

she ever wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat wondering if today’s the day she’ll never see him again. You don’t want to live like that, Boxcar.” “Is that why you pushed me away?” he asks. “Because somewhere out there there’s a magic bullet with your name on it?” “Can you really blame me? You were there. You saw it,” I whisper. My eyes burn but I fight the tears begging to spill over. “We lost… everything. We lost Fox — or, at least, we thought we did. I didn’t want to put you through losing me, too.” “That wasn’t your call to make, Caleb.”

“Yes, it was.” My voice breaks but I hold it together. “Part of me was really pissed off when Fox showed up alive but I understood why he did what he did. Soldiers don’t get to be selfish and put others in the crosshairs meant for us. And — again — if you don’t believe me, ask Dani. She has a few scars that more than prove my point.” Boxcar shakes his head. “You keep saying that, but… we’re not Fox and Dani, Caleb. It’s an unfair comparison and if you really believed what you’re saying then why did you marry me in the first place?” “Because you made it so easy to get lost in you,” I say. Instinct drives my words, bending my tongue too fast for

me to stop it. “It was so easy to block out the world... even if it was only for a moment. I clung to you because you were different. I didn’t care that you were weaker than me or slower than me, because you were smarter. You saw more of me than anyone else did. You’re no coward, Boxcar. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known and I couldn’t handle that because it meant that someday, you’d try to take that bullet for me.” “Of course, I would,” he whispers. “You’re my fucking wife.” Boxcar steps towards me, closing the gap between us with two long strides and I don’t fight it when his lips crush against mine. I lean into his embrace,

falling deeper into his arms as he wraps them around me.

Chapter 8 Boxcar Afghanistan Two Years Ago “So, what’s the deal with you and Caleb?” Fox pauses, barely glancing at me over the top of his tray. His expression changes, just enough to hint that he knows exactly what I’m asking about but teasing me would be way more fun for him. “Why, Boxcar, whatever do you mean?”

I close my laptop, bored of staring at the same blank satellite feed as always. “Oh, come on. You know damn well what I mean...” He shakes his smiling head. “It’s never gonna happen, man.” “With you two, or—?” “With either of us.” I lean forward. “So, you’ve tried…?” He wipes his mouth and sits back in his chair. “No.” I furrow my brow. “Why not?” “Lack of interest.” “Bullshit. I’ve been here for weeks and the only guy she even talks to is you, dude.” “That’s not true. She talks to you all

the time.” “Shut up and keep your head down doesn’t count as playful, sexy banter, Fox.” “Depends on the context,” he grins. “Touche…” I sigh. “How am I supposed to get to know her if she won’t talk to me?” “She likes movies. Try that.” “Movies?” I pause. “What kind of movies?” “Classic ones. The older, the better. She told me once that she’s got a pretty epic collection back home.” I nod slowly. “I can work with that…” “She talks to the sergeant,” he points out.

A stab of jealousy teases my chest. “That son-of-a-bitch…” Fox laughs. “Caleb’s not shacking up with Rhys, man. She’s not into anybody here, myself included. She’s a professional.” “But she’s also a woman with needs and… stuff…” I muse. “She’s never come on to you?” “No.” “Really?” “If she has, I haven’t noticed.” I pause, staring harder across the table at him. “How could you not notice?” “Because… as I said before, I’m not interested in her.” “You got a girlfriend back home?” I

ask him, pulling my laptop open to check the satellite feed again. Still nothing within twenty miles of our camp. “Not exactly,” he answers. “Then what’s up? What’s wrong with Caleb?” “There’s nothing wrong with Caleb. She’s great, but…” His head shakes again. “But…?” I gesture with my fingers to lure more words out of him. “But she’s… what? A werewolf? A replicant? What?” “She’s great…” Fox repeats, still grinning, “but I’m really hung up on another girl back home in Los Angeles.” My brow twitches. “Why haven’t I heard about her before?”

“Because I don’t talk about her much.” “Why not?” A shadow slides over his shoulder, instantly drawing my eyes away from him. “Don’t talk about who?” Her voice whistles through my ears, sending a jolt of warmth throughout my entire body. Caleb stands at the head of the table, staring down at the two of us with loose arms dangling at her sides. Her t-shirt is tight and tucked into her belt, creating the most perfect curve from her belly to her impressive breasts. I swallow. “Do you know about some girl in L.A.?” Caleb smirks. “Ohhh, is he talking about Roxie again?”

“Roxie?” I repeat, shooting a look across the table at Fox. “Sounds made up.” “Because it’s not her real name,” Fox says, glaring up at Caleb’s amused face. “It’s her stage name. Her real name is Dani.” “Hold on.” I close my laptop again. “I can think of only one girl named Roxie and it ain’t the blonde from Chicago.” “I love that movie,” Caleb says. I pause, once again completely magnetized by the sound of her voice, and thoroughly enthralled that she took the bait. “Me, too…” “You like musicals?” she scoffs. “I like corsets and dangerous

women — anyway—” I shift my focus back to Fox. “I can think of only one girl named Roxie and she’s…” “Exactly who you think,” Caleb says, her perfect mouth curling even more. I stare at Fox, waiting for him to refute it but he stays silent. My jaw drops. “You know Roxie Roberts?” Caleb crosses her arms. “Oh, he knows her all right.” Fox takes a quick breath. “She’s my stepsister.” “No way!” Excitement builds in my chest — even more when I realize that Caleb has taken the seat beside me. I clear my throat, coming back down as I put Fox’s tale together. “Wait— you’re

in love with your stepsister? No wonder you’re all tortured and shit.” “I am not tortured,” he argues, laughing it off. “You are a little,” Caleb says. “Does she know?” I ask. He nods. “She did when I left home.” I shake my head. “With all due respect, man — why would you sign up for this when you could be in Hollywood banging a girl like Roxie freakin’ Roberts?” Caleb chuckles beside me and for the first time, I feel the warm satisfaction of making her laugh. It jars me so much, I almost don’t even hear Fox’s answer. “Because I can’t touch her,” he

says. “It’s a long story, but… I left and now she has everything. If I’d stayed… that wouldn’t be the case.” I nod along with his words, feeling a dull ache for him. I know a little something about not being able to have something — or someone — you want. “Rhys wants to know if you’ve found anything.” Caleb’s voice pulls me back and I open my laptop again to refresh the satellite feed. “Not quite—” I answer. “Just a bit of noise and…” I pause as a dark spot catches my eye. I zoom in to find three large trucks traveling in a straight line together. “A really suspicious-looking convoy heading north...”

Caleb shifts out of her chair to linger over my shoulder. She heaves a sigh. “Yeah, Carson— just a bit of noise.” There’s anger in her tone, meaning any progress I might have made with making her laugh is officially worthless. “It wasn’t there a minute ago. They’re obviously using the edges of that sandstorm to stay out of sight and—” “How far out are they?” she spits. “About eighteen miles,” I say. “And by the way, your old crap could only see like twelve miles out. So, you’re welcome.” “Shut up and bring your laptop.” She walks off, bolting in a straight line towards the command tent across the

camp. “Well…” I shrug. “It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as shut up and keep your head down — but I guess I’ll take it.” Fox stands up. “One of these days, you just might get a shut up and kiss me out of her,” he jokes. “Dude, it is so not cool to toy with my emotions like that. I am a very sensitive man.” He laughs and we leave the tent, following her bootprints through the sand. His hand slaps my shoulder. “Box… let it go. You can’t keep up with her. No one can.” The warning digs at me. I know it’s true. Caleb is Wonder Woman. Strong,

independent. An Amazonian rockstar. I would have to be Superman to make the slightest dent in her but it would only slow her down for a moment. Fox is right. There’s no way a guy like me will ever get close to a girl like Caleb Fawn. But that won’t stop me from trying. *** The mysterious convoy settled at an abandoned warehouse about ten miles east of our camp. Sunset is just moments away, giving the sky a deep purple glow, meshing with the pale sand surrounding us. I keep quiet, watching intently as

Fox peeks through his rifle’s scope from about a mile away. This fucking guy. If he weren’t so damn nice, I’d hate his guts. Cool as James Dean and as suave as mid-80s’ Patrick Swayze. Now wonder his mother named him Fox. “They don’t look hostile,” he mutters. “This is something else.” I squint through my glasses, seeing only the blurred lines and black dots on my laptop’s radar, along with a rather menacing cloud taking up half the screen. “Storm inching closer…” I note, scanning the distance. Fox grabs his radio. “Caleb — you in position?” Her voice comes through. “Yes.” “Can you see inside?”

“Not from this distance. I’ll get closer.” “Whoa—” I say. “Should she really be getting closer to that?” “She’ll be fine, Boxcar,” Fox says. “This is what she does.” He clicks the radio. “I’ll cover you. See if you can find out what they’re doing.” “On it.” Fox rolls his shoulders, shaking out his tension. He pauses to glance over at me and he smiles. “She’ll be fine,” he repeats. “I know.” I inhale a deep, frustrated breath. He sees through it completely but there’s not much I can do about that. There’s not much I can do about anything right now, other than watch and

I can barely even do that out here in the dark. “Here.” I look up from the radar and Fox hands me a pair of binoculars. “Night vision.” “Ooo…” I flick them on and bring them to my eyes, being careful not to scratch my glasses. The once black warehouse now glows with shades of green. Caleb catches my attention, slowly slinking onto the grounds from the west side dressed all in black. Her short hair is secured back out of the way but I can still see the harsh wind attempting to twist the locks free to fall against her cheeks. “Damn, she’s cool.” Fox chuckles and clicks his radio on. “Slow down, Caleb. You have

movement around the corner.” I flinch, pulling my gaze away from her long enough to catch the very armed, very scary-looking, man headed right for her location around the building. “Shoot him—!” I gasp. “Calm down, Box…” Fox’s voice slides off his lips, smooth as butter. “But he’s—” “Box.” Caleb drifts backward and retreats into the shadows before the patrol makes it to her location. He continues on, completely unaware she’s even near him. I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Okay…” Fox turns away from his scope to

pat me on the back. “See? Relax…” he says. “Panic only when necessary.” “How do I know when panic is necessary?” He shrugs. “Watch me. If I’m not panicking, then you shouldn’t be either.” “But you’re cool as fuck, dude. You never panic.” “I’ve panicked before.” His eyes flick in thought. “Once or twice.” “You can hold his hand later, Fox. Do you mind giving me an update on my path, please?” My chest sinks at the sound of her voice. Fuck… Fox focuses through his scope again. “You’re all clear, Caleb.” “Thank you.”

He clicks the radio off and offers me an apologetic nod. “Sorry.” I collapse against the sand. “All right. I can see inside.” I raise my head back up and look through the binoculars again, this time trying not to focus too much on Caleb alone. There’s a whole warehouse around her and not a single person inside will care if they had to put a bullet in her. “Any idea what they’re doing?” Fox asks her. “Not a clue,” she says. “I’ll take them out and look around, though.” I furiously shake my head at Fox. He nods. “Negative, Caleb. Come on back. We’ll report to Rhys and check

it out again after the storm passes.” “I agree. I just wanted to freak Carson out a little bit. Did it work?” I sigh. “That’s an affirmative,” Fox answers, smiling. “Cool.” He lays his rifle down and pats me on the back again, giving me a weak, yet purposeful, smile. Let her go. You don’t stand a chance. Move on. I fight the overwhelming urge to smother myself in the sand.

Chapter 9 Caleb Afghanistan Two Years Ago I feel his eyes on me long before I look up. Carson — or Boxcar, whatever — sits on his cot across from mine with his laptop balanced on his outstretched legs. We make eye contact for the slightest of moments before his shaded eyes shift to the loud display of manliness happening a few feet away from the back of the barracks.

I ignore the grunting and groaning and focus my attentions on putting my weapon back together. Rogers and West sit on the floor across from each other with Fox’s footlocker between them. Their hands are locked in a fierce arm wrestle while the ropey muscles of their arms quiver in a hard flex. Neither one of them seem any closing to winning than they were fifteen seconds ago. “Do they do this a lot?” “Carson—!” I jolt to my left to find him knelt down on the floor beside my cot. “What are you doing?” “Starting a conversation with you.” “Why?” He shrugs.

I sigh, gesturing softly with my hands to push him away. “You’re in my bubble…” He shifts back a little but maintains that schoolboy smirk across his mouth. “So, do they?” I slide closer to the right. “Do they what?” “Arm wrestle.” I look over at them, my eyes landing on Fox as he leans over the battle, playing referee. “Yeah.” “Do you?” I turn back down to the revolver parts now littered along my mattress. “No.” “Why not?” he asks. “You seem like you’d be good at it, even against

these guys.” I catch him looking up and down tank top, admiring my toned arms. A hard slam finally hits the footlocker and Rogers launches up in victory as West growls in defeat. “That’s two out of three,” Fox counts. “Pay the man.” West spins around to his cot and fishes beneath his pillow for money. My eyes fall on Boxcar again and he smiles, still awaiting my answer. “I was banned from competing.” “What? Why?” “Because she cheats!” I raise an eyebrow at Rogers. “I don’t cheat. You just suck.” He leans closer, rolling his freshly-

won money into his pocket. “Cheater…” “Well, that doesn’t seem fair,” Boxcar argues. “You want to try her?” Rogers laughs, gesturing at me. “Go ahead, Fawn. Show him your moves.” “I’d really rather not…” I mumble. Boxcar stands up. “I’m in.” I roll my eyes, glancing up at him. “Are you serious?” “Yeah, come on,” he says. “I challenge you to an arm wrestle, Caleb Fawn.” “No.” “Caleb…” Fox says. “You know the rules. You can’t back down from a challenge.”

“Yes, I can. Watch me.” I stay seated. Boxcar nudges my arm. “I promise I’ll go easy on you.” The guys wince and with good reason. Boxcar hardly even reacts, ignoring the obvious warning signs of rage prickling at me. “Fine,” I say, my eyes turning red. “What’s your wager?” “Well,” he says, smirking wide, “let’s keep it simple. If I win, I get a kiss.” Anger spikes in my cheeks. “A what?” “A kiss.” “Are you fourteen?” He gives a half shrug.

I glance around the tent, suddenly realizing how silent it is. Fox stands back with his hand latched over his mouth, simply fucking amused by the whole thing while Rogers and West look terrified. “No,” I say. “What’s wrong, Caleb?” Boxcar asks. “You scared I’ll actually win?” I pick myself up off the cot, seething. “And if I win?” His smile makes gentle dimples in his cheeks. “What do you want me to give you?” My eye twitches. “How about you just owe me some money? That seems fair.” “Okay.” He moves around the cot and lowers himself to the floor beside

the footlocker, firing off a sly wink at me while he waits for me to join him. I take one more glance at Fox’s grinning face before kneeling down and facing Boxcar. He’s already in position with his right arm forward, eagerly awaiting me to take his hand. His fingers wave at me and I hesitate briefly before laying my elbow down and placing my palm against his. I touch him and a bolt of warmth charges up to my shoulder blade. Fox clears his throat. “Okay… are we ready?” “Ready,” I say, wrapping my fingers around Boxcar’s. His knuckles quake with nervousness but he tries to hide it.

“Ready,” he says. Fox takes a quick step back. “Three, two, — Boxcar, don’t look down — one. Go!” Boxcar flinches. “What—?” It’s too late for him to absorb the warning. I flex, bringing his attentions back to me and he gives my hand a hard shove in the other direction. I’ll admit — he’s not as weak as he seems. He definitely doesn’t have a bodybuilder’s physique but I can’t help but glance at his bicep as his shirt tightens around it. Boxcar lets out a struggled breath and my ears twitch. A grunt escapes his lips and it travels down my back, all the way to my kneecaps. I shake it off,

ignoring the quiver between my thighs and tighten my grip on him. His eyes wander my face and for a brief moment, the struggle in his eyes fades into a look of lust. It twists at me, knocking me off balance enough that my strength almost slips completely. His eyes flick downward and I shift my shoulders forward to deepen my cleavage. “Cheater!” Rogers shouts. I feel Boxcar’s strength waver for just a moment but that’s all I need to send his hand down to the footlocker. Boxcar shakes his head, jerking his eyes away from my breasts. “Wait— what?” Fox reaches for my hand and raises

it high. “And we have a winner.” I stand up. “Sorry, Carson. You can pay me back later.” Boxcar stays on the floor, positively dumbstruck while his eyes blink away from my chest. “Damn…” “I told you not to look down, man,” Fox tells him, shrugging his wide shoulders. I walk back to my cot and Rogers and West shake their heads at me again. I ignore them, forcing my attentions back to my disassembled revolver, hoping this throbbing feeling beneath my skin goes away quickly. Manly grunts resume but they don’t affect me nearly as much as Boxcar’s did. I keep my head down, breathing

steadily as the menial task takes hold of me and my pulse resumes its normal rhythm. “Fawn!” I look up to find Sergeant Rhys standing at the end of my cot. “Yes, sir?” I ask, jumping up. “Where’s Carson?” “Oh, he’s—” I pause mid-point, realizing that he’s not on his cot. A quick glance around tells me he’s nowhere around. It’s just Fox, Rogers, and West. “He was here a few minutes ago.” Rhys stares back at me with annoyance. “Well, go find him. We don’t need him wandering around alone, remember? Bring him to me. I need to see that radar footage from earlier.”

“Yes, sir.” I bend over to find my boots, silently cursing his name. Dammit, Carson. Fox gestures to Rhys. “Sir, have you heard from command about the convoy?” Rhys’ face falls. “Yeah… they said to ignore it.” “Ignore it?” He nods. “Apparently, it’s not interesting enough to waste resources on. I’ll keep you guys updated if they say anything else, but in the meantime — ignore it.” He spins around to leave, firing a quick glance at me. “And find Carson.” I wait for the sergeant to disappear before heaving a hard sigh at Fox. “Did

you see him leave?” He shakes his head. “I’ll go with you.” I slide my jacket on and wait for him to lace his boots before charging outside into the windy night. “This guy is really starting to piss me off,” I murmur, glancing around the nearly abandoned camp. Fox grins. “You should cut him some slack.” “Why?” “Caleb… come on. It’s obvious.” “I know it is and I don’t like it. This isn’t the place for his crush.” “It’s not just his.” I stop in my tracks. “Excuse me?” He smirks. “Caleb.”

“What?” A spark of amusement crawls across his face. “Caleb.” My jaw sags. “You think I…? Him?” “Yup.” “That guy?” “Yup.” “The man named Boxcar?” “That’s the one.” “Are you crazy?” He laughs. “It’s not that crazy, Caleb.” “Did he put you up to this?” I ask. “I don’t need you trying to incept me, Fox. You’re supposed to be on my side.” “Says who?” I glare at him and he laughs again. “Caleb, I’m not not on

your side here. But I do think you’re jumping the gun a little bit with the suspicion that this guy is somehow a criminal mastermind sent to infiltrate the U.S. Army and kill us all.” “Then what is he doing out here?” “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” “I will.” I cross my arms. “As soon as I find him.” Fox points a finger over my shoulder and I turn around. Boxcar sits about twenty feet away, leaning nonchalantly against a crate with his laptop once again balanced on his thighs. I look at Fox. “You planned this,” I accuse. He shakes his head and spins

around with a smile on his lips. “I’ll be inside.” “Really?” His eyebrows bounce as he leaves, jaunting back to our tent with a slight hop in his step. I sigh and walk over to the crates where Boxcar lounges. “Hey.” He cranes his neck upward, pulling his eyes away from his laptop to look at me. “Hey — check this out.” His hand juts out and grabs mine before I can react and he pulls me down to sit beside him. “What?” I jerk my hand free. He adjusts the screen on his laptop to give me a better view. “So, while we were out earlier, I took some photos of

the license plates on the vehicles of that convoy.” I look at the screen over his shoulder as he clicks through his photos. “Uh-huh.” “Then, I modified the Army’s facial recognition software to recognize numbers and letters instead of facial features—” “The Army gave you their facial recognition software?” I interrupt. “Well…” he pauses, glancing back at me with a slight grin. “No. I borrowed it. Anyway — the military has surveillance feeds all over Kabul, so I ran the software against the last fortyeight hours of footage, and…” I wait as his fingers rush across the

keys. “And?” He stops and tilts the screen even more in my direction. “Do any of these faces look familiar to you?” The footage is blurry but the hairs quiver on my neck. I lean forward to get a better look. Three trucks sit on the side of the road near the center of town. A dozen men linger nearby, each one wearing black tactical gear, loading the back of each truck with large boxes. One in particular catches my eye. He’s tall, wide-set, pale-skinned, with a neck nearly as thick as his shaved head. I point at him. “He was at the building today.” “You’re sure?” “Positive.” I shift my finger to the

next guy; shorter, bearded, but just as muscled. “This one, too.” Boxcar pauses the footage and stares at them both. Words gather on his tongue but he says nothing but a soft groan that gets stuck at the back of his throat. “Do you think the facial recognition software might… you know… recognize their faces?” I ask. He tilts his head and peeks up at me over the rims of his glasses. “Not bad, Fawn,” he smiles. I watch him work. His trained fingers click and tap away, never making a single mistake as he starts and stops the footage, snatching various screen shots of their faces. “Where did you

learn to do this stuff?” I ask him. “Self-taught. Mostly.” “Mostly?” He leans back against the crate and looks at me. “Why do you ask?” I pause, torn between smacking that smug look off his face and… well, not. The light of the laptop reflects off his glasses, casting a blue glow onto his face, tricking me into seeing the more handsome features of him. Prominent cheekbones. Thick — but not bushy — eyebrows. Sharp, playful lips. I lean back. “What are you really doing out here, Carson?” “Getting some fresh air.” “You know what I mean.” He inhales a quick breath and his

eyes drop from mine. “Does it matter?” “It matters to me.” “Why?” “Because it’s my job to keep people safe and I can’t do that unless I trust the ones around me.” “Ahh.” He closes the laptop and shifts on the crate to face me. “Is that all?” “Is that not enough?” “No, it is.” I wait, expecting him to continue, growing more and more frustrated with each silent moment. “You know what? Nevermind—” I move to stand and he reaches out to grab my arm. “Wait…” His grip softens and he sighs. “You can’t tell anybody.”

I raise my brow. “Why not?” He hesitates. “Because… it’s not exactly legal.” I fucking knew it. “So, you are a criminal mastermind sent to kill us all in our sleep?” “Pfft! I wish.” He gives my arm a quick tug to pull me back down. I sit beside him again but I keep my attentions focused in case he makes any sudden moves. “I came to Europe for a vacation, figured I’d get a rail pass and wander around for a bit. See the world and whatnot,” he explains. “Some bastard pickpocketed me in London and I had to improvise. I didn’t have money to get home or stay in hotels so…” he pauses, searching my face, “I started breaking

into houses and sleeping on couches while the owners were gone.” I smirk. “You’re a vagrant?” He laughs. “I’m a drifter.” “Same thing.” “I didn’t do anything super shady,” he says. “Just went in, got some food, and caught a few Z’s. I didn’t steal any valuables and I left no trace besides a few missing slices of bread and a beer or two.” I shake my head but I can’t hide my amusement. “How did you not get caught?” “It’s actually really easy to tell who’s on vacation or not. Newspapers pile up, mail doesn’t get taken inside, closed curtains, no lights… Once I was

inside, I just tried to find out when they’d come back. Usually, there’d be a clue or two but if not… just hope for the best.” “And how did you go from drifting around Europe to trapped in a warehouse in Afghanistan?” “Oh, right. That…” He winces. “I got caught.” “Of course, you did.” “I was in Paris and I stumbled on this gorgeous house outside of the city. Best of all, the owner obviously traveled a lot. So I made myself at home for a little while… until…” “Busted,” I smile. “I woke up to find two very large men standing over me with two very

large guns,” he continues, holding his hands up at least two feet apart to show their length. “I’m talking assault weaponry, the kind you don’t typically see on civilians in France.” “Yikes,” I react, hanging on every word. “What did you do?” “I said a damn prayer and hoped it’d be quick,” he laughs. “Then this woman walked up. Tall, blonde, older — probably in her fifties but I got kind of a cougar vibe from her—” “Carson.” “Right—” He shakes his head. “Obviously, she asked what the hell I was doing there and I explained everything. Just a poor boy with nothing on him but lint and a computer, looking

for a way back home.” “And?” “And… she offered me a job.” I blink. “What?” He pats his computer. “She was really interested in knowing what I could do — seeing as how I managed to override her home security system and disable the alarms so I could get in. Which was not easy, by the way. By far the most advanced system I’ve ever stumbled upon. The conversation quickly turned kind of scary but I wasn’t about to piss off the woman with the two hired guns standing behind me, watching my every move.” “What kind of scary?” He takes a breath and his eyes shift

around us for prying ears. “She started talking about United States military servers and whether or not I’d be able to crack into them to gather personnel files.” I furrow my brow. “What kind of personnel files?” “Mission debriefings, confirmed kills. Pretty much anything I could find on active duty soldiers currently deployed,” he says, his voice low. “People like you guys.” I pause. “What did she want with that?” “Honestly, I was too scared to ask,” he admits, “but it seemed like they were recruiting soldiers for something.” “Any idea what for?” I ask. He

shakes his head. “Why didn’t you say no?” “I got the feeling I didn’t have a choice.” Comply or die. Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same. “Did you catch her name?” “She never said it,” he answers. “The others just kept calling her boss. Anyway… the next morning, she put me on a helicopter and flew me down here with her two goons and two other hackers she hired to do the same thing. About a week went by and then…” His voice falls and I see the fear in his eyes. “What?” I ask. “I guess they got what they wanted out of us,” he says slowly. “They lined

the three of us up and I watched as they shot the others dead.” He points to his eyes. “One bullet through each eye, like a damn execution.” A chill runs down my spine. “How did you escape?” “A bomb struck our building during the raid,” he says. “They got distracted for a moment and I ran like hell. I didn’t get very far, just hid out in another warehouse in the compound but then that one got hit, too. When I couldn’t get out, I sent that fake intel.” I nod. “And three days later…” “You and Fox showed up to dig me out.” I sit back, wheels spinning in my head. “That’s quite the story.”

“It’s all true, Caleb,” he says. “Every word.” “It sounds crazy.” “You don’t believe me?” I pause, studying his deep, green eyes, looking for any tell I can find that will show me if he’s lying but I come up short. “It’s not completely unbelievable.” “Then you’re gonna love this,” he says, opening his laptop again. He brings up the security footage and pushes play. “Meet the two goons that brought me down here.” I stare at the footage, watching as the bald man and the bearded man pass by the cameras. “They’re the ones that killed the other hackers?” He nods. “Are

you sure?” “I wouldn’t forget those faces. They’re here… somewhere,” he murmurs and his eyes shift around again as if he’s being watched. “You’re safe here, Carson,” I tell him. “No one’s going to find you out here.” “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about the next poor boy that gets caught in their crosshairs.” “You should go to Rhys with this —” “I’m not about to admit to stealing government documents and handing them over to a very obvious terrorist organization.” “Then why tell me?” I ask.

His eyes grow softer. “Because you asked. And…” he pauses to lick his dry lips, “your trust is important to me.” Not one damn tell to prove he’s lying. “Why?” He hesitates. “Just… is. Also, you’re my bodyguard, right? You have a right to know what to look out for.” A short smile crosses his lips, caving in the dimples on his chin. The desert wind strikes my face but it just makes the blood in my cheeks tingle a little more. I look away, clearing my throat. “We should get back inside.” I push up and he quickly stands with me. “Caleb…” he says, “I don’t want anyone else to know about this. Can you

keep this between us? Please?” I nod, sensing the shame in his tone. “Okay…” He lets out a light sigh. “Thank you.” I turn to leave but Boxcar takes a quick step forward to stop me. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you earlier.” “With what?” His lips twitch. “With that whole kiss thing.” Red tickles my cheeks even more. “You didn’t.” “Good.” “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you with the whole beating you thing,” I add. “You didn’t,” he says. “Also, you cheated, so…” I grit my teeth. “I did not—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “It was worth it.” I hold back my laugh. “Just… shut up and get back inside. Rhys wants to see you.” He takes a quick stride towards me. There’s fear in his eyes but it’s quickly overruled by the obvious lust controlling him. His fingers latch around my arm and he gently pulls me in to plant a soft kiss on my lips. My entire body breaks, torn in half by duty and desire tugging at me from both sides. I pull away to stop our kiss and take a slow breath but it only gets caught in my throat as my lips tremble for more of him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispers. He

bends over to grab his bag off the crate and his soft touch slides off my arm. The wind kicks up, slapping the loose tarps strapped to the crates nearby but I can barely hear it over the blood pounding in my ears. I bite my lip, trying to quell the seductive urge inside to feel his mouth again. This is wrong. It’s all wrong, and yet… Boxcar slides his laptop into his bag and throws it over his shoulder, preparing to step around me to head back into camp but my feet move on their own to block his path. I kiss him back and his hands immediately cup my face, holding me there as our lips lock together over and over again.

My god — his mouth. I don’t know how he’s doing it but this is quite possibly the most intense kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s the perfect blend of soft and firm, wet and dry, with just the right amount of tongue — and his hands. He moves one down my body, dropping from my cheek and wandering over my breast to curl around my lower back and hold me against him. I feel his chest heaving with mine and his fingers trembling along my skin and his growing, hard — Oh, god. Fuck — what am I doing? I step back, nearly falling over from the lack of blood entering my brain. “I have to go—” I spin away from him, instantly regretting it as his hands slip

from my skin but I keep moving. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, I rush to the barracks without looking back at him — knowing I’ll never be able to pull my eyes off him if I do. My feet carry me back to my cot and plop down onto it, burying my burning face into my rock hard pillow. “Well, what did he say?” I raise my head to find Fox staring back at me from his cot next to mine. “It didn’t come up,” I answer quickly. He raises a curious brow. “What did come up?” “Nothing important.” I kick off my boots and fall back down onto my pillow.

Thankfully, Fox doesn’t push it but I can feel his sly eyes studying me with amusement. I ignore it. I’ve completely lost the ability to focus on anything other than the phantom kiss tugging on my mouth and the throbbing taking hold everywhere else. Oh, this is bad. So very bad. I can’t let this happen. I have to take back control. It was a one-time thing. A fluke. Just one kiss. That’s all it was. Just one perfect, mind-blowing kiss. Nope. Don’t even think about it. I, Caleb Fawn, do solemnly swear not to sleep with Boxcar. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Chapter 10 Caleb Los Angeles Present Day Boxcar. He kisses me and it all comes crashing down like a damn tidal wave. His tongue touches mine and lightning strikes down to my toes. I lean closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and the soft touch of his fingers gliding across my lower back beneath my shirt. A moan caresses the back of my

throat, urging his hands to keep moving and Boxcar hears it, tuning in to our own special frequency. His fingers travel up my back, inching along the sensitive skin of my spine, tickling me the way only he knows how. I sigh on my breath and lower my hands to his belt. Boxcar groans as his zipper falls and my hand touches the thin skin of his calm shaft. It twitches against my fingers, surging with fresh blood, growing hard in my palm. I’ve almost forgotten how thick he was. My core throbs with warmth, begging to recall what he feels like inside. I push his briefs down and his manhood stands firm between us, throbbing for me in my hand with each

gentle stroke I give him. His lips never leave mine as his fingers slip beneath the elastic of my slacks to cup my rear. I quiver against his warm, squeezing hands. He pushes my slacks down to my ankles, along with my moist panties, and stands back up to push me hard against the counter. I hop up onto it and spread my knees, wrapping my legs around his waist as he steps into position between them. His cock pushes against my willing folds and my teeth chatter with lust for him. “Box…” I whisper against his lips. He pauses, staring into my eyes through the thick rims of his glasses. Light reflects back at me through the glass barrier between us. I reach up and

push the glasses off his head and drop them on the counter behind me to get a better look at him. He’s barely aged a day since the last time I saw him and I wonder if he can say the same about me. Stress has no doubt beat me up plenty but if it’s done the same for him, he’s not showing it. He’s still youthful and playful as he ever was with his adorable green eyes and thick, brown hair. He caresses my face with his hand, sliding his thumb across my cheek as he holds my stare. His eyes sparkle with lingering desire for me, the same desire I saw in his eyes in Afghanistan. I reach for his hips and pull him closer, drawing a heavy breath from the bottom of his lungs as his cock presses

even harder against my slit. He trembles as I take hold of his hardness and guide the tip to rest on my entrance. Boxcar’s lips curl and he steals another firm kiss from me. He sheaths himself inside of me, pulled in by my guiding fingers, pushing in until he can go no further. We both pause and lean against each other with closed eyes as that old, familiar ache reignites the air between us. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me with laughter in his throat, torn between the instinct to come and the desire to make this last. If only I had that choice. I feel my climax already, lingering on the edges of me, just begging to break down my walls. His thickness dominates me with

a subtle pain and I cling to it, squeezing the muscles around him as he slowly begins his thrust. My feet hang by his sides, twitching with warmth as pleasure radiates my toes. Boxcar rocks us both with quick, deep thrusts and I can do nothing to fight the forgotten passion overwhelming us both. He drops his lips to my neck and I feel the edge of his teeth digging into my skin and the soft caress of his tongue tasting me. “Don’t stop…” I moan, quickly scaling the walls between myself and climax. Boxcar grips my waist and pulls me closer to him to guide his hard, purposeful thrusts. After all this time, he

still knows how to hold me and exactly where to touch me to control the fire inside of me. What Boxcar lacks in life, he more than makes up for in his bed. He’s the type of lover that studies his woman and takes his time on her, never once batting an impatient eye as she enjoys herself beneath him. Some things never change. He grips me harder and takes me into his strong arms to slide me off the counter. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, refusing to let him slide out of me for even a second as he carries me across the room and lowers us both down onto my bed. He pins me against the mattress and fucks me, reminding me that I’m his woman and no one else’s.

He fucks me like a man should fuck his wife. I push his jacket off his shoulders, craving to feel even more of his smooth skin. He leans up and slides it off his arms, tossing it to the floor as I reach for his shirt. It ruffles his hair as he jerks it off his head and I chuckle softly to myself as he tries to fix it. I put my hands on his body, drawing his attentions back and luring him down to my lips again. He pushes deeper inside as he lowers down and I moan against his mouth, urging him to keep fucking me but he holds himself steady instead. Boxcar lays his hands on me, fishing them beneath my shirt. His fingers crawl upward to caress my

breasts and feel my nipples as they poke his palms. He takes his time sliding my shirt up, re-learning every gentle curve of me, every freckle and spot on my skin. I twitch with impatience, knowing that the pleasure gently tapping on my walls is just the beginning of what he’s capable of doing to me. He pulls back and his cock falls out of me. I grit my teeth in disappointment but that feeling fades as Boxcar’s mouth descends down my neck and over my breasts. His tongue travels my navel, leaving wet kisses along my taut skin all the way down to my heaving mound. He pushes my knees farther apart, straining my muscles until they hurt. My back arches. My toes curl. My entire body

submits as his warm breath rakes across my folds and his lips clamp around my surging clit. I moan towards the ceiling. Quick, constant breaths keep me light-headed and weak, completely unable to process the supreme pleasure dominating me from the inside out. His tongue laps at me, zeroing in on the most sensitive spot. He stares up at me with purposeful eyes, locking on mine as I writhe beneath him. Boxcar lays a firm finger against my opening and I breathe a deep sigh. I’m not even sure how much more of this I can take before I’m screaming his name and I know exactly what he can do with those strong, trained fingers of his. I look into his eyes again, seeing the impish

delight in his pupils as he slides a single finger inside and waits for my moans to subside before playing me with expert precision. Flawless and true, he massages a thunderous climax out of me, refusing to stop his gentle rub even as my muscles clamp down on his hand. “Box!” I scream, barely able to catch my breath as he slides a second finger inside and fucks me hard and fast with both fingers. He keeps his hand working as he travels upward, leaving hot, eager kisses along my flesh before finally finding my lips again. I ache for more of him, especially the wide, thickness of his cock. I reach for it and grip it with my fingers, wrapping around it and squeezing hard with the softening

waves of climax still tingling my insides. Boxcar laughs and slides his fingers out of me, reading my expression like a book he’s read a thousand times. He knows what I want. He knows how I want it and where. He always did and he always will. He grabs me and guides me around onto my hands and knees. I feel him press against me, hard and firm as ever, before he burrows his cock back inside of me where he belongs. With one hand on my waist and another resting on my shoulder, he pounds me with hard, deliberate thrusts. “Oh, god—!” I moan through my teeth, relishing in the masterful glide of

his cock against my insides. He angles his charge, pushing me to the edge once again with seemingly little effort — like he’s never forgotten what buttons to push and how hard to push them. Breaths tumble off my lips faster and wilder and I go stiff as he finds the most perfect rhythm inside. He takes me with a firm grind, forcing me to come on his cock as his own animalistic grunts tear his throat apart. Everything crumbles and I lose control of my senses. Orgasm washes everything away, leaving me throbbing and broken in his steady grip, but he doesn’t stop pounding me. I let him have me, feeling his own pleasures taking him over.

My tongue taps the roof of my mouth, remembering and craving his taste upon it. Saliva nudges over my lips and I bite my cheek with patience. I twist around to watch him, paying attention to the subtle expressions on his face, waiting for the moment I know he’ll explode for me. He closes his eyes and his spine stiffens. One last grunt touches his mouth and I turn around to take his thick cock between my lips. He lays a hand on my head and leans back, allowing me to suck him off into the back of my throat. My taste buds implode, completely satisfied with the taste of him and the nostalgic musk of his sweat. His fingers latch onto my hair, bringing small pains

to my scalp as I pump him in my mouth. I send his warm desire back, feeling that hot tickle dripping down my throat, moaning softly as my tongue caresses his perfect glands. “Fuck…” he whispers, out of breath but wanting more. I roll my tongue along his tip, listening to the sharp hisses firing out of his mouth as the sensation becomes too much for him. Rather than tell me to stop, he grabs my shoulders and forces me back onto the pillows. I laugh as he does it, noting the manly twinkle in his eye as he pins me to the mattress. I flex and shift us both with a quick jerk, twisting him around onto his back before he even knows what hit him. Surprise

jolts his eyes but he quickly laughs and settles against the bed. “There she is…” he says, smiling. I narrow my eyes and take control of my wild pulse. “Who?” I ask. “My warrior woman.” My eyebrow twitches and he looks down my naked body on display above him. I let go of his hands and sit back, straddling his waist as the adrenaline abandons me. “Yours, huh?” I ask between breaths. “Well…” he shrugs. “Was that ever a question?” I suck my numb lips, biting down to experience the pain as feeling returns to my limbs. Boxcar. The only man I’ve ever

wanted. The only man that’s ever wanted me back — that I know of. So, why I am so unsure of this? “Get up,” I say, sliding off of him and planting my feet on the floor. “Wait—” Boxcar grabs my arm, wrapping his fingers tight around my elbow. “Don’t do that thing.” I jerk my head to look back at him. “What thing?” “You know damn well what thing.” He releases my arm and sits back. “That sudden attack of conscience you get — even after you’ve done nothing wrong.” I force my lips shut. His understanding of my character is just as annoying now as it was back then. Giving in to Boxcar has always filled

me with a keen sense of guilt and he’s absolutely right — it has no real reason for existence other than it just does. “Caleb…” My name flies through his lips and travels down my spine. “Lie down with me.” I sit still, unable to move, unable to take what I really want. “Boxcar—” “Lie down with me.” I close my eyes as his voice twitches my senses again. It’s firm and demanding; a side of him that rarely shines out and it amuses me every time. I look back at him and his playful eyes overwhelm me with calm. Finally, I give in and lean beside him. He guides me closer and rests my head against his chest. I feel his muscles flex beneath me.

He’s stronger than he used to be. He’s obviously been working out since the last time I saw him and I’ll admit — he looks good. Boxcar draws a line across my head, pulling stray hairs away from my eyes and tucking them back behind my ear. “Talk to me, Caleb,” he says. “What’s going on in there?” I breathe deep, relishing in his scent as it travels through my nose. “I don’t know,” I whisper. He keeps his hands against me; fingers gently gliding along my shoulders to hold me there and to stop me from running again. It feels like I’ve always been running. Running from him, running from life, running from mistakes and

circumstances outside of my control. Running away from that bullet.

Chapter 11 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day “I don’t deserve this.” I tighten my arms around her, feeling her soft skin glide along my fingertips. One minute. We couldn’t go one minute post-coitus without her flight instincts kicking in. I fill my lungs with her scent, determined to never forget that flowery aroma ever again. “Don’t deserve what?” I ask her.

She raises her head off my chest and I see the emotions practically bleeding from her eyes. “I don’t— You don’t deserve this. You deserve better.” I grin. “Shut the hell up, Caleb.” “I’m serious, Box.” “And so I am.” I shake my head, pushing this crap away. “This idea you have in your head — this belief that you being human is somehow selfish — is bat-shit insane.” “No, it’s not.” “Yes, it is. Caleb, you’ve been a civilian for what — almost two years? The war is over for you. You’re home. You can be happy. You can start a new life. You can have sex and experience normal things without feeling like shit. I

know I have.” She pauses and pushes off the mattress, her face twisting into a foul expression. “Oh, really?” “Yes.” “So, you’ve been living a life full of experiences since we separated, huh?” And here we go. I exhale a sharp breath. “Oh, come on, Cal. Don’t turn that into something. You know what I mean—” “Have you?” “Haven’t you?” I fire back. She pauses, gently tripping over her perfectly pink tongue. “I asked you first, Boxcar. How many women have you hooked up with?”

I fall on my hands and rub the heat rising in my cheeks before combing my fingers through my hair. “Caleb…” I heave a frustrated sigh. “It really doesn’t matter to me if you’ve been with other men—” “Boxcar.” And there’s the tone; that ragefueled growl from the back of her throat. It’s the sexiest thing in the world unless it’s directed at you. Then, it’s downright scary. “I don’t know—” I spit out, stalling. I close my eyes, searching my head for the perfect response to get me out of admitting to my epic dry-spell but the truth is all I have. Then again, I’ve never been able to muster any sort of

superior cognitive function after an orgasm — especially not one I shot down Caleb Fawn’s throat. She sighs with annoyance. “Don’t forget to carry the one, Box…” Panic rises in my chest. “Like, one or two—” “One or two?” “I don’t really keep track,” I lie, avoiding her eyes. I can feel them firing daggers at me but I really don’t want to admit the truth. I don’t want to admit that I haven’t gotten laid in almost two years because I’m so hung up on her that the idea of being near another woman makes my skin crawl. Caleb slides off the bed but by the time I realize she’s moving, she’s

already out of my reach. “Wait, Caleb…” She bends over to grab her shirt off the floor. “You should go.” I stand up and step closer to her. “Now, hold on. Go ahead, Caleb. Your turn.” “My turn?” “Yeah,” I say. “How many men have been in this bed since we separated?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes so far back I think she might lose them. “I don’t know.” I stare at her, refusing to blink as she pulls her shirt over her head. It wasn’t my intention to compare notches on our bedposts but she’s the one that

started this. “Caleb…” “I don’t have to answer that—” “Oh, but I did?” Her jaw flexes and red clouds fill her cheekbones. She’s pissed and that’s fine but this double standard shit isn’t going to fly. “I don’t know,” she says again, bending down to scoop her pants off the floor. “Five?” I ask. “Six? Eight? Twelve?” Her hands shake with anger as she tries to step into her pants but they’re inside out. “Zero.” She says it so quietly, I can barely hear it. “I’m sorry—” I cup my ear and lean forward. “One more time.” “Zero!” She tosses the tangled up

pants to the floor. “There. Are you happy? It’s zero.” I stay quiet, guilt stabbing at me as her face falls. “That part of myself, I…” She shakes her head. “I gave up the idea that I could have a meaningful relationship a long time ago, Box — but it’s real nice to know that you had no trouble bouncing back.” Fuck. “I didn’t, actually.” Desperation oozes off my voice but I don’t care anymore. She deserves the truth and I’m an asshole for not telling it in the first place. “I lied before. It hasn’t been one or two…” She looks at me and she knows I’m not lying but the anger doesn’t leave her forehead. “This was a mistake, Box.”

“Caleb, come on. Don’t go there yet…” She picks up her pants again. This time, her hands are solid as rocks as she steps inside of them to cover herself up. “Thanks for stopping by and letting me know about what’s going on—” “Dammit, Cal—” “You can see yourself out.” Fuck. Fuck fuck— “Caleb, please. Don’t walk out on us again—” She stops. “Again?” “Yes, again.” I hop out of the bed and grab my jeans off the floor. “Honey, I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track since the beginning but I have and every single time we’ve separated — it

was all your bright idea.” “Oh, that is bullshit.” She points a finger at me. “Don’t put that on me. You’re as much to blame as I am.” “I beg to differ,” I say, zipping my fly. “I’m all-in, Caleb. I always have been. It’s you that lives with one foot off the bed. Also, you have absolutely no right to be upset even if I had been with anyone else and the only reason why you are upset right now is because you are latching onto the first possible excuse you can find to run away again.” Her expression changes but it’s not enough to shut me up. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we are still out in the damn desert. Feels awfully familiar in here.”

“Why are you still here?” “Good fucking question.” I throw my shirt on and step into my shoes before grabbing my jacket off the floor. “I’m out.” She stands still with her arms crossed over her chest like a damn wall. This conversation is officially over. We’re officially over. Again. “What’s my password?” she asks quickly. Another dagger stabs my chest as I pull open the door. “It’s I love you,” I answer with my head down. I bend over to pick up my bag. “One word, all caps.” I close the door behind me, leaving her there. Part of me wishes I’d looked back in time to see her reaction but it

wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. They’re just words, after all, and words are about as meaningless to Caleb Fawn as wings on a catfish. Just no fucking point. I step outside and instantly cough as smog and city stench invade my system. Los Angeles. What a fucking dump. I’m not sure what I expected was going to happen today but sex with my estranged wife was definitely not on the docket. I absolutely assumed my chances of getting inside of her again were next to nothing. There was a greater chance of my plane getting taken down by a kaiju monster over St. Louis than I was of ever fucking Caleb Fawn again but

here I am. My dick isn’t even dry yet and I’m already on the street outside. Fuck it. I did what I came here to do. I told her about the Hart twins. I told her about Snake Eyes gunning for Fox. I told her to watch her back and I don’t need her to watch mine anymore. I played my part. No guilt. No regrets. No nothing. She’s on her own now — as she always intended. Magic bullet? What a fucking crock of shit. There are plenty of reasons why Caleb and I don’t work and her ridiculous fear of death isn’t one of them. Being with me should make her feel better about it, not worse. I should make her feel safe and warm and— Unless, of course, I don’t.

Suspicions confirmed. Caleb needs a big, manly hero to make her happy, not some nerd with a laptop. Don’t need a scrawny human shield like me helping her out. Nope. Not needed. I get it. I do, but— I kick an abandoned can on the sidewalk but the aluminum clanging sound isn’t nearly as satisfying as I hoped it’d be. I pause and look around, ready to side-eye anyone that targets me for littering or some bullshit but no one even looks up from their feet or their phone. Not that I’m complaining. I prefer it when strangers mind their own goddamn business. I hail a cab and an address slips off my lips. There’s only one friend I have

in this city and his place just so happens to be vacant. Fox’s house — or should I say Roxie Robert’s house, as I’m pretty sure she paid for it — sits in the Hollywood Hills, nestled down in the valley between two pop stars and some old film director who’s way passed his prime but keeps churning out crap year after year like he’s still got it but no one has the heart to tell him to pack it in. Hell, I’ll do it. I’ll shout it from the porch across the street. It might make me feel better, although it goes against my whole strangers should mind their own goddamn business philosophy. The cab drops me off and as I stare at the solid, black gate in front of me, I

start to feel a little nostalgic. Once upon a time, impenetrable fortresses like these used to be my weekend projects. I’m not sure why I got into it in the first place. Boredom, probably. I was a sixteenyear-old early high school graduate with nothing to do and my minimum wage parents didn’t have time to entertain me between the five different jobs they worked to give a crap about what I did with my time. I couldn’t afford higher education — even with scholarships — but I had to find something productive to do with myself. So, I started picking locks. It started with the bathroom door. Then it was the front door. Then it was the neighbor’s front door. Then it

snowballed all the way into a pair of handcuffs in the back of a police car. I picked those, too. After that, it was security systems. A lot of them. I didn’t steal anything. I wasn’t a thief yet. I just liked the idea of being somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I liked penetrating walls that weren’t meant to be overcome and experiencing the deep satisfaction of doing it so much that I didn’t care about consequences once I got in. Hmm. My fascination with Caleb Fawn suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. I scale the black gate and sit on the edge, being extra careful not to pierce my damn ballsack on the spires at the

top. There’s a security camera here and, luckily, it’s the same crappy brand peddled out to rich people for fivehundred percent over the value of its parts. I shake my head. And people call me a thief. I reach into the bottom of my bag for a small screwdriver and pop off the back of the camera to expose the wires. This brand has an exploit that the manufacturer themselves aren’t even aware of. If you cross the blue and red wires and then short it out, it’ll take down every single camera on the network and they won’t turn back on until the unit itself is replaced — or in this case, until I fix it. I’m not about to completely disable my best friend’s

security system. What am I — an asshole? The cameras shut down and I crack a smile as I hop the rest of the way over the fence. I don’t bother checking for witnesses. I honestly don’t care and it’s not like the owners won’t vouch for me or anything. I travel the rest of the way up the drive and I marvel at the perfect landscaping for a few seconds until I reach the front door where yet another hurdle presents itself, this one in the form of a numerical panel with a key card slot. It’s a model CX-22B, by the looks of it — No, I take that back. It’s the 22C. Either way, it’s easy to crack with the right tools.

Damn, Fox. Paranoid much? Eh, I guess he has every reason in the world to protect himself and Dani. I highly doubt most people around here have to worry about an underground organization of assassins trying to bust their doors down. I pull out my laptop, along with a “key” of my own invention from the pocket on the side. I don’t have a cutesy name for it. It’s a USB-powered skeleton key, basically. I slide the key card into the slot and plug the cable into my laptop. A few keystrokes later and my program gets to work, brute-forcing its way through as many key combinations as possible. The CX-22C requires a six-digit

code, meaning there are one million possible combinations and it automatically sounds an alarm if you miss it more than three times in a row — making it the preferred system over the 22B. I programmed my skeleton key to override that function but I still might be here a few minutes. Finally, it lands on one-two-twofour-zero-seven and a green light shines to unlock it, along with disabling any alarm system the place might have. I twist the doorknob but it doesn’t budge. Oh. Of course. Some people still use actual keys. I pull out my lockpick and knock out the final hurdle before I even break a

sweat. As I step inside, my phone rings. My lips curl as I reach into my pocket and see his number staring back at me. I step into his house and kick the door closed. “Your security sucks, man,” I answer, holding the phone against my ear. “You know, I would have given you the code,” Fox says. “My way is more fun,” I chuckle, glancing around the foyer. My eyes fall on various movie poster hanging off the walls inside frames that probably cost more than my rent back east. Dani stares back at me from every one. Damn, she’s pretty. Natural blonde hair — although, I hear she keeps it black nowadays.

Bright, blue eyes. Fox is one lucky bastard but I’ll never tell him that. He’ll get too smug. “How did you know I was here?” “A concerned neighbor called Dani to tell her about a strange man in glasses climbing our fence.” “Don’t you rich bastards have anything better to do than spy on your neighbors all day?” “Apparently not,” he answers. “You’re going to fix it, right?” “Of course. I just needed… a distraction.” “Ahh, jeez,” he mumbles, recognizing my tone. “What’d you do?” “What’d I do?!” I spit. “You mean what’d Caleb do?”

“What happened? Is she okay?” “She’s fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “So am I, by the way, since you’re so full of concern.” “Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.” I pause to admire their giant kitchen. Stainless steel appliances. Hardwood floors. I could definitely move in here for a while. Damn place is so big, they probably won’t even notice I’m here. “Define stupid.” “Tell me what you did and I’ll tell you if it was stupid.” I lay my bag down on the cabinet and check the refrigerator for something strong and alcoholic. “I kind of…” I bite my tongue for a moment, “slept with

her.” “Already?” Fox asks. “It’s been like two hours.” “Hey, there’s no one more surprised about that than I am, dude.” “Whatever happened to never give a second chance to a girl with a boy’s name?” he chuckles. “I never said…” I pause. “Actually, that sounds exactly like something stupid I’d say.” I find something imported stashed in the door and grab two bottles of it. “Where’s your bottle opener?” “Top drawer, left of the fridge,” he answers. I slide open the drawer and snatch the bottle opener off the top before shoving it closed. “Although, you probably shouldn’t be drinking right now

considering the circumstances.” “She said the same thing,” I point out. “Didn’t stop her from tearing my pants off.” “And how exactly did that lead to you sulking around my kitchen?” I plop down onto the couch in the living room, my eyes once again scanning the unfamiliar surroundings of their quiet, yet echoey, home. “We got married.” There’s a long, heavy pause. “It’s been two hours…” “No—” I shake my head. “Not today. Before.” “Yeah…” he chuckles. “I know, Box.” I raise a brow. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “How did you know?” “I worked for the most dangerous criminal organization in the world. I had more than enough means to check in on you two every so often.” “I feel so violated…” I joke. My eyes fall to a picture frame sitting on a short end table across the room, instantly gravitating towards it like a magnet. I push off the couch and wander over to get a better look. “Two years ago,” I mutter. “Right after you died… they shipped us both back to the States and they dropped us off at the airport in Vegas, of all places….” I chuckle. “I thought it was a sign, she thought I was an idiot but she said yes anyway.” I grab

the frame, once again overwhelmed with crippling nostalgia at the desert sand surrounding the three of us. It’s a silly photo — completely unprofessional given the setting — but I can think of plenty of times overseas when that was the norm. Fox stands in-between myself and Caleb with his arms wrapped around our shoulders, holding the three of us together like he always did. “I dunno, without you around, we just kind of panicked. Needed something to cling to so we chose each other.” “Why didn’t you tell anybody?” I set the frame back down. “Three days later, she kicked me out. Three days after that…” I sigh. “I haven’t seen her since.”

“You’re still married?” I smile. “Technically, yeah. She wanted to divorce, but… I’ve been avoiding that.” He says nothing as I roam the room with restless feet. “Fox, I need to ask you something. It might sound weird but just bear with me…” “Go ahead.” “What are you scared of? Like — worst case scenario, worst nightmare you can think of. What is it?” “Well, that’s easy,” he says, his voice low. “Dani?” “Yeah. Losing her — or even worse…” he pauses. “Even worse would be the thought of putting her through losing me… again.”

“But still, you stay with her even though you know that could happen any day now?” “Of course.” “Why?” “Because I’ve cheated death once already,” he answers. “That doesn’t happen twice.” I bite my lip. “Right…” “Box, we don’t get a lot of time in this world,” he says. “Especially people like us. You live the life you can while you can.” “If only Caleb thought the same way, man,” I chuckle. “She’s got it in her head that she has to push me away.” “Then you go to her and you convince her otherwise. Dani and I have

our fair share of problems, believe me, but… I live each day with her as if it’s my last. You two should do the same.” Christ. He’s right. As usual. Caleb Fawn might be a highmaintenance and downright frustrating woman but she’s my woman. Always has been — whether she cares to admit it or not. “So, tell me, Fox…” I say, “did I do something stupid?” “Only if you don’t fix it, Boxcar.” I chug the rest of the bottle and set it down on the table beside the old photograph. “Your house kinda sucks, dude,” I say. “I’m a little disappointed.” “Have you found the theater yet?” I pause. “You have a theater?”

“In the basement. Check it out — later. Now, go find Caleb. I don’t like the idea of either of you being alone with the Harts out there looking for you.” “She’ll be fine…” “Box.” I sigh. “All right. I will return to my wife.” “Well, that sounds weird.” “I don’t know,” I smile. “I kinda like the sound of it.”

Chapter 12 Caleb Los Angeles Present Day My husband is fucking idiot. God, I hate the sound of that… ILOVEYOU? I-fuckingLOVEYOU? Since when did we ever say that each other? Even on our wedding night, the L-word didn’t come up once and I liked it that way. Not that I never felt it for him but I don’t waste time on redundancy. It goes against my

training. Every second counts during times of war. One second wasted could mean your death and the deaths of everyone around you. If something is a given, you don’t take the time to express it because the ones that matter should already know and the ones that don’t probably aren’t worth the effort. Then again, he’s right. We’re not out in the desert anymore. The L-word doesn’t matter when nothing else works. I came from a family that looked perfect on the outside. Love this. Love that. But there was darkness lurking around every corner waiting to remind you it exists. For years, I thought that’s how the world worked. Then I met Fox. He had his own bit of darkness

following him around and for the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to have a friend. Then Boxcar crashed into my life, along with the L-word. Damn son-of-a-bitch. I stare across the room at my television but I haven’t managed to turn it on yet. I still can’t get past the way he said it. Head down, eyes just barely open. He couldn’t even look at me but I could tell he wanted to. I love you. I love you. I love you. Why is that so hard for me to say? I push off the couch, grab my phone, and slide on my shoes. It’s far too quiet

up here and I’m starting to get tinnitus in my ears. My fingers are also twitching with restlessness. There’s only one thing that’s always managed to calm me down and luckily, I’ve got a whole arsenal of weapons stashed downstairs in need of cleaning. I bounce down the stairs, tying my hair back into a loose ponytail as I go. The back room of my shop is a littleknown secret — one that I’ve managed to keep quiet for the most part. I have a few elite clients that pop in now and again to pick up the latest tactical gear and weaponry (the most recent being the newly resurrected Fox Fitzpatrick). It’s not the most legitimate of black market business practices but when you’re in as

much debt as I am, you play to your strengths and my military expertise makes me a hell of a lot more trusting than the teenage street gangs around here. I step into my shop and squeeze behind the counter, headed towards the back room with a dusting cloth wrapped in my hand when the hairs stand up on my neck. I pause, sensing the slow, quiet movement across the room — smack dab in the middle of my very closed pawn shop. “Hello, Ms. Fawn.” I size the woman up before I even turn around. My eyes dart left and right, scanning every reflective surface around me. She’s petite like me but, also like

me, not the kind you want to fuck with. Tight jeans, even tighter black shirt. Sporty hair the color of spilled fruit juice on white carpet. And her eyes. Knowing, experienced. Deadly. I turn around and she grins at me. “We’re closed on Sundays.” “I know.” “Come back tomorrow.” I toss the cleaning cloth onto the counter between us. “I’m not here for…” she points a finger and draws a line across the nearest shelf, “whatever the hell this stuff is.” “Then what do you want?” She wipes her finger on her jeans.

“I’m looking for your husband.” This must be Lilah Hart. My brain works in the background, calculating how fast it would take for me to secure a reasonable weapon. I’ll need five seconds minimum to get to the back room but she could easily scale the counter in less than three. “I don’t have a husband.” “The state of California seems to think otherwise.” I shrug. “We separated years ago. I haven’t seen him since.” Her little cartoony eyes squint at me. “Are you sure?” “Pretty sure.” “He flew into L.A. early this morning,” she says. “He didn’t stop by?”

“Nope.” “Bummer.” She heaves a tiny, defeated breath. “Any idea where he’d go?” “It’s a big city. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have some work to do and you’re trespassing so if there’s nothing else…” Lilah’s lips twitch to the side but she doesn’t move. “Actually, I didn’t just come here looking for Bartholomew Carson. There’s a much bigger fish I’m after.” I point behind her. “In that case, I have a decent selection of antique fishing lures in the corner. Take your pick.” Impatience coats her painted eyes

but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Caleb, where is Fox Fitzpatrick?” I tilt my head, feigning confusion. “He’s dead.” She rolls her eyes. “Try again, honey.” “No, really,” I chuckle. “Two years ago. He was killed in action overseas. I was there.” Lilah inhales all the way to the bottom of her lungs and takes a short step closer to the counter. She lays her fingers against the glass, leaning over in a decent attempt at intimidating me. “I know that’s bullshit, Caleb. I know he’s alive and I know your husband made contact with him in Colorado a few weeks ago. Now, I’m tired and I’m

cranky and I’m getting really bored of this shit…” “Sounds awful,” I quip. “Tell me where he is and I’ll let you walk away.” “Glendale Avenue,” I say. “Forest Lawn Memorial. That’s where you can find Fox — his empty box, anyway. From what I remember, there wasn’t much left of him to ship back home.” Her hand falls to her side and she reaches behind her, obviously to rest her hand on the weapon she’s got stashed behind her back. “You’re not doing yourself any favors protecting him, Caleb.” I brace my toes, ready to move. “Feels pretty good though, Lilah.”

She pauses and her white teeth drag across her bottom lip. “You know, I’m curious… Just between us girls.” Her brow crinkles. “Why Carson? Don’t take this the wrong way but you could seriously do better—” “Boxcar.” “What?” “His name is Boxcar,” I say, “and you picked the wrong morning to mess with me, Gidget.” Her bicep flexes and I know she’s starting her draw. I reach forward quickly to snatch her shoulder and force her down against the glass but she’s much faster than that brutish man last night. Lilah twists out of my grasp and draws her pistol to point it at my face.

I dodge behind the counter, reaching beneath it to grab the baseball bat hidden out of sight as two bullets strike the wall behind me, followed closely by another that shatters the glass counter and pierces the floor near my head. I grip the bat and push off the floor, swinging quickly to strike her outstretched hand before she can pull off another shot. It connects with her knuckles and she growls with pain as the pistol slips from her fingers and flings across the room to the other side. Instead of charging after it, Lilah leaps over the busted counter, swinging her trained feet in front of her to kick me hard in the chest. I fall off balance and

she plants herself between me and my back room. I fall back, keeping a white-knuckle grip on my bat as she charges forward and lands a solid punch against my jaw. Pain radiates through my face. It’s the first time I’ve felt pain like this in years and it instantly ignites all adrenaline in my body. This fucking bitch is going down. Lilah pulls back her arm, preparing for a second, even harder, punch. As time slows down, I wait for the perfect moment to block her attack, leaning forward to snatch her wrist out of the air and dropping the bat so I can wrap my other hand around her little neck. Surprise flashes in her eyes, along

with a coy amusement, as she lets me shove her backward against a shelf. A set of novelty mugs tumble to our feet, shattering into pieces as she raises her knee and bashes it against my ribs. I keep my composure until she juts forward and hits me in the nose with a firm head butt. My grip loosens and she slips out of it, rounding around to deliver a hard backhand against my cheek. I slip off balance again but scoop the baseball bat off the floor as I move. Lilah raises her hands to block my swing but misses and the bat’s tip connects against her right eye. Her body twists and she falls to the linoleum, no doubt temporarily blinded by pain and

white lights dancing along her vision. I step forward and kick her hard in the torso, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She wheezes for air as she tries to claw her way out of my reach. I raise the bat, ready to bring it down on her when a strong hand grips the back of my neck, followed closely by a sharp stab deep in the flesh above my collarbone. I spin around to see a man standing behind me with a depressed syringe held tight in his surgical-gloved hand. It hits me quickly and I lose all feeling in my shoulders, all the way down to my fingers and toes. The man swings an arm behind me and another beneath my legs to raise me up as gravity

descends on me. I try to hold on but I can’t keep the numbness from invading me and the paralysis takes me. I close my eyes, expecting to lose consciousness but my mind stays alert and ready. The man looks down at Lilah and sighs. “Quit fooling around,” he says, his voice echoing through my ears. “You said you had this covered.” Lilah lurches off the floor. “I had it under control,” she argues, tapping the fresh bruise taking over her face around her right eye. She winces as she pushes against it and fires an angry look down at me. “Apparently not,” he says, jolting me up to get a better hold on me. I try to roll free of him but I can’t

move a muscle. Everything feels rock solid and cold but my brain is still warm and lucid. Fear overwhelms me. I’m trapped in my own body. “You…” Lilah jumps in surprise. “I thought you knocked her out…” “No,” he says. “She’s still in there. We need her talking, remember?” She rolls her eyes and grabs her gun off the floor. “Whatever — where’s the car?” “It’s out back.” I stare up at him as he carries me through the back hallway to the alleyway, taking in the familiar features of his face. He shares the same eyes as Lilah, along with the same cheekbones

and nose. His hair is ash brown and a little too long with bangs hanging down over his eyes. He must be the other Hart twin, Elijah. My vision blurs as he drops me in the backseat of their car, just barely cradling my head to keep it from jerking around. I can’t feel it right now but I’m guessing I’ll have a twisted neck for weeks after this. Bastards. Elijah slides into the back with me and sits me up as Lilah climbs into the driver’s seat. “Caleb,” he says, leaning into my line of sight. “Say something.” I open my mouth — or, at least, I think I do. My throat tingles, the muscles clenching open and closed. “Fuck you…”

He smiles. “Colorful girl.” “Pfft, please,” Lilah spits from the front seat. “Lilah…” he says, glancing forward. “You had your shot with her. Now, it’s my turn.” She spins around with rolling eyes and turns the keys, firing the engine with life. Elijah looks at me. His attentions wander my numb features with scientific intent and I feel the gentle pressure of his fingers against my face, holding my head steady as the car shakes back and forth on the street. “Caleb, you managed to beat up my sister, and for that, you have earned my respect. You’ve proven to be a very impressive young woman. However, if

you don’t start telling me something useful, I’m going to have to hurt you and I don’t like doing that as much as my twin does.” “You gonna torture me?” I slur with curling lips. He tilts his head. “I mean… I could, but with your training, you probably know a little something about withstanding interrogation and we’re on a bit of a time crunch.” I take a deep breath. “Then I guess we’re done here…” “Not necessarily…” Elijah squints. “Caleb, when I say I’m going to have to hurt you, I don’t mean physically. You see, torture might not work on you, but… I get the feeling it might work just fine on

that husband of yours. Something tells me he’s not great at putting up with pain for very long.” “You’d be surprised, actually…” “Either way, we will find Fox Fitzpatrick,” he says. “You can either put us on the right track now or you can watch while my sister rips off his thumbnails.” Rage burns in my chest but I can’t do a damn thing about it in this state. “You won’t lay a hand on him.” “That’s certainly up to you, Caleb.” “No… you won’t even get close.” I chuckle softly and he stares back at me with amusement. “Trust me.” Elijah drops my head, letting it fall forward and I glare down at my

unmoving hands in my lap. “Damn.” “He couldn’t have gone far,” Lilah says, her shifty eyes studying me in her rearview mirror. “We’ll find him.” “Or…” Elijah raises a brow. “We’ll just let him come to us.” He reaches around me and finds my phone stashed in the back pocket of my jeans. “What did you say he called himself? Boxcar?” I don’t answer as his gloved thumbs tap away at my phone.

Chapter 13 Boxcar Afghanistan Two Years Ago “Caleb.” I whisper her name so softly even I can barely hear it. It’s a necessary measure as I’m surrounded by highlytrained U.S. soldiers and each one sleeps with one eye open — but for good reasons. Hopefully, sneaking out with Caleb in the middle of the night isn’t on that list.

I lean over her a little more, lowering my lips as close to her ear as possible. “Caleb—” Her eyes fling open and she shoots up in her cot. I lay my hand over her mouth and put a finger against my lips with my other hand, silently urging her to keep quiet. “Shh…” I whisper. She mimics my soft volume. “Carson, what are you doing?” I nudge my head back, signaling for her to follow me outside. She stares at me for several moments, blinking with confusion, until finally nodding and reaching down to grab her boots from underneath the cot. I slide back and wait for her to stand up before grabbing my

messenger bag and we silently drift between the sleeping soldiers into the darkness outside. Caleb follows me through the camp. I keep to the shadows, avoiding the paths of the patrol guards. “We don’t have to slink around like this,” she says at normal volume. “This isn’t a prison.” “I know… but it’s fun.” We reach the jeeps parked at the far side and I open the backseat door to the last one in line — the one farthest away from prying lights. “Also there’s something I want to show you and I’d rather do it privately.” She pauses, her bright eyes flicking between me and the backseat. Finally, she climbs inside and I follow her in

after doing a quick scan of the area to make sure no one sees us. I sit down in the seat next to her and pull out my laptop. She slides away from me on purpose, putting as much distance as she can between us until her back hits the door on the other side. “What is it?” she asks. “I’ve been looking into that house,” I begin. “You know, the one in France?” She nods. “It’s weird, but… it’s like it doesn’t exist at all.” Caleb tilts her neck to get a better look at the map on my laptop screen. “How so?” “I mean, there’s nothing in public records. There’s no documented history of it ever being built. Even satellites

show an empty lot.” “How is that possible?” “It’s not,” I answer. “Which means that someone very powerful went through a lot of trouble to keep it hidden… and I think I know who.” I scroll through my notes, flying by various bits of information and saved photographs. “The only mention of that land’s ownership is in a very redacted document buried deep in the Parisian archives. A man named Marlow Black bought the land in 1952 and that’s where the history ends. However—” “Carson.” Her eyes go soft on me but I keep going. “I dug through the Black family tree and found out that he had a daughter

in 1965—” “What are you doing?” I stop scrolling on her face and turn the computer in Caleb’s direction. “Marilyn Black. Born in 1965. Died young in 1988. But I met her last month at that house in Paris.” Caleb pauses and her eyes linger on the woman’s photo for a few moments before she shakes her head. “She could have had a daughter…” I shake my head. “No, I checked that. Marilyn Black didn’t have a daughter but she did have a son. He died in 2004 at age nineteen — but how much you want to bet he’s still walking around out there, too? And get this—” “Carson…” she sighs. “You need to

let this go.” “Why?” Adrenaline pounds in my chest. My nose twitches like a dog who’s caught the scent of a lifetime. “There’s something going on here — something bad.” “And you escaped it,” she says. “The last thing you should be doing is digging back in. This obsession is just going to get you killed.” “I’m not obsessed. I’m curious,” I argue. “And you should be, too, considering the fact that they probably have a file on you right now… and that’s my fault.” Caleb sits back in her seat and gazes out the window at the pitch black night. She shows no expression to tell

me whether or not she agrees with that last part but I didn’t say it to gain sympathy. If something happens to anyone out here because of those files, then I’m going to feel responsible for it — gun to my head or not. “What are we doing out here?” she finally asks. “I wanted to tell you about this.” “Right.” She crosses her arms. “We could have done that anywhere. What are we doing in this jeep?” I smile and close the laptop. “Because I didn’t just want to tell you about this.” She glares at me. “Uh-huh.” “If we happen to make-out, too, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the

world,” I smirk. Her eyes roll back and she reaches for the door handle beside her. “I’m kidding!” I grab her arm but she shoots a hard look at me and I fall back. “I would, however, like to talk about the other night—” “No.” “Caleb, come on. Contrary to my behavior sometimes, I am not fourteen,” I joke, drawing a fraction of a smile on her mouth. “We’re adults and I would like to talk about the other night like adults. Please?” She lowers her hand from the door handle and settles back against the door, arms crossed like a pair of thick armor. “Okay.” I take a deep breath and look into

her eyes, instantly getting stunned into silence. Fuck, she’s perfect. Beautiful, strong — inside and out. Mysterious, charismatic. I can’t get her out of my head nor can I get the taste of her off my lips — not that I’m complaining or anything. “Well?” she asks. “I don’t know,” I choke. “That’s as far as I got.” Caleb sighs. “You can start with an apology.” “An apology?” She nods. “Yeah, an apology.” “I’m not going to apologize for kissing you,” I argue. “I’m not sorry.” “It was highly inappropriate,” she says, her brow creasing with intensity.

I twist in the seat to face her. “I gave you a little peck, Caleb. You’re the one turned it into a full-blown, tongueon-tongue—” “I did not!” “Oh, so you tripped and fell?” I ask, throwing all of my sarcasm into it. “Is that how we’re playing this?” “I’m not playing anything—” She pauses and exhales a heavy sigh, “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving—” “No—!” I latch onto her arm again and pull her away from the door. “Let go of me.” “Not until you admit that you kissed me back.” “No.” I tighten my grip around her wrist.

“Then we’ll just have to sit here all night and you can explain to everyone else what we were doing out here when they catch us in the morning.” “You really have no sense of decency, do you?” I shrug. “It comes and goes.” She tugs her arm but I don’t let go. “Carson.” “Just admit it, Caleb.” “What? That you’re an asshole? Done. You’re an asshole.” “Admit that you kissed me, you liked it, and that you’ve been avoiding me ever since because you’re scared you’ll do it again.” “Yeah, you’ve really got that likean-adult thing down.”

I sigh and release her. “Fine. Don’t admit it. Doesn’t change the truth and we both know it.” Her eyes twitch with anger as I ease back into the seat. I even rest my hands behind my head to sell the point home. I kissed her. She kissed me. She wants more. “You’re wrong,” she says. “Oh, yeah?” I smirk. “Yeah.” “Then why haven’t you left yet?” She grits her perfect teeth. “You are so annoying.” I laugh. “You’re stalling.” “For what?” she scoffs. I grab her again and pull her across the seat. “Carson—”

I take her face in my hands. Her warm cheeks tickle my palms as I place my lips against hers, knowing full well she’s capable of breaking my nose with a single punch. Still — feeling her again, tasting her, kissing her, even for a moment… it’s worth the risk. My heart slams in my chest. Desire overwhelms fear. My blood runs hot and fast, so quick it leaves my digits numb against the soft skin of her face. I suck lightly on her bottom lip as I pull away and I feel the tremor strike her entire body. Caleb opens her jade eyes and stares into mine for a brief moment, silently reflecting on what I just did. I wish I could be a fly on the walls of her

brain. It’d be nice to know whether or not I should block my balls right about now. She licks her lips, trembling softly in my hands, and leans over to kiss me back. Just like the other night, she parts her lips and I feel the warm jerk of her tongue against mine. I pull her closer and she pushes up to straddle my waist, settling into my lap like a perfect puzzle piece. My fingers crawl down her chest and a moan escapes her throat, tickling my lips as it vibrates off of hers. She slides her hard body against me and I twitch as every drop of blood inside of me travels south. I feel behind her, gliding my fingers beneath her shirt to

touch her smooth skin. She reaches for my belt and my muscles lock. Holy shit. “Boxcar.” I flinch. It’s the first time she’s ever called me that. “Yeah?” She stares down at me, her eyes burrowing into mine. “If you tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you.” I nod furiously. “Yes, ma’am.” She kisses me again, this one firmer and harder while she tugs my belt free and slides my zipper down. I slip my hands beneath her shirt, taking aim for her breasts as I drop my kisses to the smooth skin of her neck. Her body quivers even more, falling deeper into my embrace and she moans softly as I

pinch her earlobe between my teeth. I feel an ache of disappointment as she pulls away suddenly but it all subsides when I realize she’s just sliding her pants to the floor. She’s right back on top of me in seconds, half naked and willing, and I feel the dripping warmth of her caressing against my shaft. I kiss her again while her hand reaches for my cock. She grips it and pauses for a quick moment, her blinking eyes glancing down to confirm my girth. She says nothing but I get the confidence boost of my life by staring into her impressed eyes. I keep my gaze on her, letting her lead, longing for the moment when I’m finally inside of her. She slides my tip

back, angling it to penetrate her but she doesn’t lower herself down. She lets it sit there, quivering against her entrance while her wetness drips onto me. I feel her body and squeeze her breasts, trying not to go crazy as she teases me. Finally, she lowers herself onto me and she bites her lip to hold back her moan. Even I burrow my face in her chest to keep her overwhelming tightness from taking over me. I lay my head back, almost ready to explode. “Oh, fuck—” She clamps her lips down on mine and we moan into each other as she slowly grinds herself on me. Her hips glide up and down, perfectly clenching my cock from the inside. I buck upward

to thrust in deeper with each grind of her waist and I hold her steady as she shakes on me. “Shh—!” Caleb slaps a hand over my mouth and locks her body in place above me as her eyes focus on something outside the windows. I slowly crane my neck to look out and I see a patrolman wandering alongside the jeeps, stepping softly against the sand. It takes all of my control to stop thrusting her. My dick begs for me to just keep going but I sit still, counting the excruciatingly long seconds as this fucking prick takes his sweet ass time moving on. He rounds the corner and the second he drifts from sight, Caleb

lowers her hand from my mouth and kisses me hard. She adjusts her movement to keep the jeep from rocking and drawing attention to our location, but she doesn’t stop that perfect grind on my cock inside of her. I keep fucking her, the new fear of getting caught fueling an even greater pleasure. She grips my jacket and her body goes tense. Her face contorts with ecstasy, twisting even more as I push against a sweet spot inside of her. I grip her waist tighter, replicating the movement, memorizing every inch of her as lust colors her cheeks and she bites her lips to keep from screaming. Caleb falls forward to stifle her moan against my shoulder and I smile

even wider, feeling her tightness go wild as she climaxes on me. I am a fucking god. My balls tighten and I can’t hold back for another moment. I pull out of her as I come and point my tip into my shirt to keep from getting my DNA all over U.S. government property. She stays still on top of me, desire hot on her breath. Her body shakes with each exhale, just like mine, but I can see the thoughts building behind her eyes. Her eyes clamp shut, blocking me out. “Shit.” She slides off of me and falls onto the seat, reaching down to fish her pants off the car floor. I push my spent cock back inside my briefs and pull them up. “Well, that

—” “Never happened.” “Well… I wouldn’t say—” “I would,” she interrupts again. “And if you know what’s good for you — you will, too.” I watch her pull her panties back on, blinking with confusion. “Okay, hold on…” “I can’t do this kind of thing,” she argues, still out of breath. “I have a reputation to keep here.” “Okay, I get that, but… you kind of just did it.” “And that was a mistake.” I sigh, smiling. “Caleb, slow down.” She zips her fly and pushes her feet

back into her boots. “I have to go—” I grab her arm. “Stop.” She freezes in place with her eyes on the floor, refusing to look at me. “Now, I said I wouldn’t tell anybody about this and I meant that. I’ll take this to the grave if you really want me to — but I won’t pretend it never happened.” “Fine,” she says, flicking her dark eyes at me. “It happened. It was fun. We both enjoyed it — but it won’t happen again. It can’t.” I let go of her. “Why not?” “You know why not.” “Yeah, yeah. Reputation and duty or whatever, but you’re not going to be out here forever,” I say. She looks straight ahead. “This…

this isn’t who I am. You’re not…” Her voice falls again. And there it is. I’m not sure why I didn’t see it coming until this moment. This isn’t about her. It’s about me. “Oh.” I collapse into the seat. “I get it.” Why would she ever go for a asshole like me when she’s surrounded by heroes like Fox fucking Fitzpatrick? “You’re right. This was wrong. It shouldn’t happen again.” I reach for my bag and throw it over my shoulder without looking at her. “I’ll go first,” she says. “Cool.” She takes a quick look out the windows, checking for anyone passing

by before climbing out and closing the door softly behind her. So, that’s it; the end of my affair with Caleb Fawn. It crashed and burned just as quickly as it started but holy shit — it sure was fun while it lasted. A smile climbs to my lips. I fucked the untouchable Caleb Fawn. Not only that, she enjoyed it. She even admitted it but she never had to — I fucking felt it and she sure as hell wasn’t faking it. I’ll let this feeling linger for a few more minutes before heading back to the barracks and crashing right back down to zero. I scoop my laptop off the floor and open it to see Marilyn Black staring back at me from the old photograph.

Caleb’s probably right. I absolutely should let this go but I suppose that’s the consequence of growing up a lonely kid with an overactive imagination. I’ve always had a thing for puzzles. Crossword, jigsaw — you name it. What I have here now is a bunch of corner and edge pieces with nothing in the middle to connect them together. I could keep digging through the box to figure out what the mystery picture is or I could move on and live with the unfinished puzzle lingering at the back of my head for the rest of my life. Of course, if I do that, then I sure as hell better have something better to occupy my head space. I close my laptop and look around

the jeep as my memories of the last half hour come crashing back in. Caleb. I think about her mewling on top of me and I smile. There’s no way I can let this be a one-time thing. I’m not leaving Afghanistan until I make Caleb Fawn fall in love with me. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Chapter 14 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day “Caleb?” I knock softly on her door. The ride back was excruciatingly long, mostly because of the time I spent in my head planning out what I was going to say to her. I have it all figured out; variations of phrases Fox told me plus plenty more of my own personal things that I’d only ever say out loud to her and no one else.

I just have to see her face and it’ll all come out. “Caleb?” I reach for the doorknob and twist it, feeling a sudden bolt of shock as the thing pushes open. Sure, Caleb is the only person that lives in this building but I doubt she’d leave her door unlocked, especially with the street access at the bottom of the stairs. I step inside and look around as another stab of guilt plunges deep. The room is exactly as I left it. The bedsheets are still flung about. The pillows are ruffled. My nose fills with the very scent of her, enough to make me halt in my shoes and take notice of her — just like it always did since the

moment I met her. “Caleb?” I check the bathroom but she isn’t there either. She could have gone out. If not, there’s only one other place she would be and that’s downstairs in her shop. I smile, remembering that there’s only one thing that never failed to relax her and if I were a betting man, that’s exactly where she’d go after what just happened between us. I head for the back of her loft to the staircase leading down to her shop. As I push open the door, I instantly feel the weight of the room and it breaks me. Broken glass lies scattered about all over the damn floor beneath the shattered counter.

“Shit…” I mutter, looking around. “Shit.” Whatever happened here, it wasn’t good. And worse, it’s my fault. “Caleb!” I look up, scanning the corners for a security camera. There’s one in each corner and two more that cover the cash register and the front entrance. I rush to the management office in the back, biting my cheek in the hopes that they aren’t just dummy cameras to deter theft. Caleb’s just stubborn enough not to invest in a system and given the state of her bank accounts, she probably justified the non-expense of not having one. The old office has two desks, one

in each corner, and my eyes land on the one with the most ancient CRT monitor sitting on top. The monitor blinks as I flick it on, almost puttering out completely but it eventually kicks on, along with the VHS player connected to it with a tape inside labeled Sunday. I shake my head, promising to install something a hell of a lot better than this when this is all over. It’s an outdated system but it still works. I rewind the tape and every ounce of air dispels from my lungs and my heart expands several sizes, about ready to explode with anger. From what I can see, Lilah Hart managed to break in through the alleyway exit behind the building just

minutes after I walked out. Ugh. I should have stayed. Why didn’t I stay? Caleb, where are you? I fast-forward the tape, watching as Caleb enters the back of the shop and Lilah confronts her at the counter. Every second brings me closer to despair, knowing that I’m about to see one of two possible conclusions: A — that Caleb was defeated and kidnapped, or B — that Lilah made me a widower. Neither option will make me happy but one will definitely make me more pissed off than the other. The fight begins and I can’t help but smile at the reminder that Caleb is a

fucking badass. Sure, she’s beautiful and feminine and all that good stuff but that’s not what made me hard for her in the first place. It was the warrior in her that did that. There’s something undeniably sexy about a woman that can pin a fullgrown man against the wall and make him beg for his mommy. My heart sinks as a dark shadow enters in through the back and sneaks up behind her. Caleb had Lilah on the damn floor and Elijah just swoops in — that fucking bastard. Fuck. I should have stayed. This would have been a fair fight if I had. Caleb collapses in his arms and my rage wins. Fuck this shit.

I’m getting my wife back. I’ve got the drive, I’ve got the determination, and most of all, I’ve got Caleb Fawn’s secret back room to arm myself with. The Harts probably didn’t even realize it was here and Caleb was smart enough not to draw Lilah’s attention towards it during their fight. I walk inside and breathe in that old, nostalgic smell of assault rifles and gunpowder. A smile strikes me once more as I flick on the light and my eyes fall on the guns lined along the walls. The alleyway door opens and closes. I freeze, sensing hard boots tapping against the hallway floor. My eyes scan for the nearest available weapon and my

lips twitch at the sight of Caleb’s “special occasion” gun: her Model 60 Smith & Wesson revolver, obviously returned to her since Fox and Dani’s cross country excursion a few weeks back. She never let me even hold it before and there’s no way I’m going to pass up the opportunity now. I grab it off the wall and confirm it’s loaded as the boots step further inside the shop. I kneel down and wait, trying to get a better look at whoever the hell this is. The Harts must have come back. Maybe they saw me go inside and they decided to come finish me off. I won’t make it that easy, that’s for sure. As I prepare to leap out, my heart stops in my chest. Every man has

imagined themselves in this situation before: guns drawn with the villain in their sights and a very grateful damsel hanging on their arm but no one really considers what it’s actually like. I take a breath, forcing the crippling doubt away before standing up and pointing my gun at the dark figure lingering around the shop. “Hold it.” I lock my body, refusing to let it tremble. “Let me see your hands.” The man pauses and his arms slowly rise in surrender. He’s much too tall to be Elijah Hart and he’s dressed very differently in a bold leather jacket and black jeans. “Turn around,” I tell him.

He obeys and shifts to face me while I ease forward to get a better look at him. He’s clean-shaven with trimmed, blond hair and bright, blue eyes like he’s out of a goddamn fairy tale or something. As I step closer, he sighs and drops his hands. I twitch. “Hey— put them back up —” “I’m not here for you, mate,” he says, his voice sharp with a thick, English accent. “You can drop your piece.” I keep it pointed at him and he rolls his eyes. “Who are you?” I ask. He turns and gazes around the room again with quick experience. “What happened here?”

“I said, who are you?” “Nevermind,” he says. “I’ll figure it out myself—” I pull back the hammer with my thumb and a laugh spills off his lips. “Mr. Carson — please. Don’t embarrass yourself here.” “How do you know who I am?” “Because I’ve been tracking the same pair that’s been tracking you across the country,” he says. He holds his hand parallel to the floor and slowly brings it down with his words. “Lower the gun and we’ll talk.” I let my arm fall to my side but I keep my finger hugged around the trigger. “You’re after the Harts?” “I’m after a Hart,” he says. “Fellow by the name of Dante.”

I recall the name. Lilah and Elijah’s big brother. “Why?” “Because my client is offering a lot of money if I bring him in alive.” I pause, glancing the man up and down. “You’re a bounty hunter?” “In layman’s terms, yes,” he says. He steps closer to the counter and extends his hand out to me, flashing a quick, polite smile as he moves. “My name’s Archer Allen.” My trigger finger relaxes as I shift the gun into my left and reach out to shake his hand. “Boxcar,” I say. He nods as if he already knows that and steps back to glance around the shop. “What happened here?” he asks again.

My tongue weighs heavy in my mouth. There’s no way for me to verify anything this guy says right now but I don’t have time to mess around. “The twins broke in and kidnapped the owner.” Archer looks at me with a wrinkled nose. “What would they want with him?” “She knows where they can find their target.” “I thought you were their target.” “No, they’re looking for a friend of mine.” “Who?” I shut my mouth. I’ve already told this guy as much as I’m comfortable with. There’s no way I’m name-dropping Fox Fitzpatrick right now. “A friend.”

He shrugs. “And how do you fit into all this rubbish?” “I’m her husband.” “Ah.” He gives his smooth chin a quick scratch and walks away from the counter, glass crunching beneath the heel of his boot. His eyes scan the floor around him, following the chaos as it bleeds along the aisles. “So, the Harts show up looking for you and snatch up your wife instead, is that right?” “Pretty much.” “And she knows where they can find this, uh… friend of yours?” I slowly move out from behind the counter, keeping on my toes as I watch him for quick, sudden movements. “Yeah.”

“That’s a pickle, mate,” he says. “I don’t envy you right now.” “Thanks…” “Did they leave any evidence? Anything that’ll tell me where they went?” I stare back at him as my mind twirls with fresh information and surging adrenaline. “No,” I answer. “Not that I’ve seen yet…” “Hrm…” He fishes into his jacket for his phone. “Well, maybe little Lily has used Granny’s card again…” I step closer. “What?” He pauses, falling silent as he regards me with apprehension. “Hey — you said we’d talk. I answered your questions.” “Mostly.”

I give him a little space, drifting backward towards the busted counter again. “Who hired you to find Dante Hart?” He smiles for a split second before exhaling a short, defeated breath and dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Antony Zappia.” I search my memory for the name, quickly landing on that night in Denver with Fox. Sipping beers, telling tales of time gone by. “The mob family?” His eyes shine with surprise. “You know ‘em?” “I’ve heard a few stories.” “Well, big brother Dante up and pissed them off,” he continues. “About half a year back, Zappia hired him as his

own personal hitman completely unaware that the man was an undercover Snake Eyes agent.” “Why was he undercover?” “Didn’t ask, don’t care,” he says. “The family found out about Snake Eyes along with the rest of the world a few weeks back and Dante put a bullet in Antony’s son’s face on his way out of town.” He waves his palms along his cheek. “Fucked the boy up real good.” “So, Zappia’s looking to track down Dante. Why are you going after the twins instead?” “Because Dante disappeared into thin air but his little brother and sister have not.” “You catch them, you draw him

out?” “Exactly.” “Sounds like a decent enough plan — assuming he gives a shit about his baby siblings.” “He does.” Archer shifts on his feet, changing direction towards the back of the shop. “And if I can find a clue for where they buggered off to, I can get on with it. Is there security footage?” “Yeah,” I answer. He takes another step towards the office. “Wait…” I hold up a hand. I’m constantly full of bad ideas but again — I don’t have time to wonder whether or not this one will come back to bite me in the ass. “We can help each other.” “Sorry, buddy,” he says, grinning.

“I work alone.” “And as a perpetually single married man, I can respect that — but you’re not going to catch the Harts all by yourself.” “I only need to catch one.” “Then even your odds,” I urge. “Help me get my wife back and I’ll help you track them down.” His eyes bounce from my head to my toes and I cringe inside. I know exactly what’s going through his head right now because they’re the same thoughts the other soldiers in Fox and Caleb’s unit used to have years ago. Who is this chump? What use is he? Ditch him. He’s dead weight. Finally, Archer takes another step

closer, rolling his fingers into hard fists. “Get out of my way,” he says, his voice a deep growl. I slide back, easing myself between him and the office door. “I can tell you where Dante is,” I say, drawing a twitch from his brow. “Their childhood home. They tried to wipe out any record of it — but they missed one. Odds are, that’s where you’ll find him.” Archer darts closer. “Where?” “You help me get my wife back and I’ll tell you.” “Or…” He reaches out with quick hands and grabs my jacket with a tight grip, raising me an inch or two off the floor. “Or I could beat the hell out of you until you tell me.”

“For anything else that would probably be enough,” I admit, keeping his wild eyes centered, “but when it comes to this woman, rest assured that I will fuck you up.” I hold a hard, steady tone. “The Harts for my wife. That’s the deal.” “All right,” he says with amusement. “Calm down, Sparky. You have my attention.” He loosens his flexed hands and lets go of me before taking a step back and reaching out to straighten my jacket down. “May I please see the security footage?” I step to the side. “Knock yourself out.” He passes around me into the office and I reach into my messenger bag for

my laptop. I officially have about sixty seconds to find out if this guy is who he says he is. My ears perk, listening carefully to his every move behind the wall as I bring up the database and my fingers silently type his name into the search bar. The program comes to life and I run a quick search through the Snake Eyes master file just in case. Thankfully, his name is nowhere on it — but then again, neither is Fox’s. “Bloody hell—!” I flinch and lower the laptop screen halfway. “What?” “That’s your wife?” My soul swells with pride. “Yes, it

is.” Archer’s head peeks around the door frame and he offers a slow nod of approval. “Not bad, mate.” “Thank you.” He slides back into the office and I hear the gentle whirling sound of the tape rewinding. I don’t blame him. I’d watch Caleb whack that bitch in the face over and over again if I weren’t too scared of her dying at any moment. I tilt the laptop screen up again and watch the progress bar reach its end. Archer Allen. Bounty hunter. A damn good one, too. Born in London. Former MI-6 agent. Dismissed from duty about five years ago and those records are sealed.

For the most part, he’s legit with the small exception of him being in the country on an expired visa. I close the program as his feet come tapping back into the shop. He passes around the counter and his blue eyes scan the floors and walls for clues. “See anything?” I ask him. His head tilts with disappointment. “Nothing on the monitor,” he says. “Not that I’d know if I did. The bloody thing is a hundred years old.” I scoff with amusement. “Yeah, I’m going to fix that.” “Is that what you do?” he asks. “Install security systems…?” “Not exactly.” I watch as he pulls his phone out again. “What was that

about granny’s card?” Archer swipes it on. “Lilah’s got a credit card open in her dead grandmother’s name,” he explains. “That’s not very smart.” “She used it to gas up their bikes in Denver last week,” he continues, “I followed the trail from there to Miami to Iowa to Boston and now here.” “The Harts went to Iowa?” I ask, my chest skipping. He nods with confusion. “Can’t say why. I tracked them to an old farmhouse and all I found was a very old lady with a nasty case of dementia and a real bastard of a dog. I pissed off, thinking I must have missed something when Lilah used the card again outside of

Indianapolis.” I smile inside. Mrs. Clark must have picked up a few acting skills from Dani. At least I get to confirm to Fox that his friend is still safe and loyal. “Wait — you said they had bikes?” I ask. “Yeah.” “They had a car on the security footage.” “Must be a rental,” he says, throwing his focus back at his phone. “Or they stole it,” I point out. “I prefer a bit of optimism,” he quips. A few seconds pass and he grits his teeth. “But still no recent charges...” I spin back towards my laptop. “They drove off in a black sedan. I can check to see if any have been reported

stolen in the last twelve hours.” Archer chuckles. “Right — lets run a search for the most common type of stolen car. That’s sure to narrow it down.” “If you have another suggestion, I’m all ears.” I start my search and he says nothing to argue. It annoys me not knowing where to look. Information and intelligence have always been on my side but right now, I feel absolutely hopeless. Caleb is gone. I have no idea where they’ve taken her and I have no clue where to look. Granny’s credit card aside — the Harts are ridiculously smart. They won’t peek their heads out until they want to be found and by the time that happens, it’ll be too late to stop

whatever it is they plan on doing to her. My search leads to yet another dead end. “There have been three reported stolen in Los Angeles today: two were found shortly after and the other was a false alarm.” Archer sighs. “I guess we wait for them to slip up—” “I don’t have time to wait until they slip up,” I spit. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. “And did it ever occur to you that they’re using that card on purpose?” “What do you mean?” he asks. “You’re dealing with two world class assassins and you think you’ve outsmarted them by tracking their dead grandmother’s credit card?” I shake my

head. “Think about it, Archer. Who’s chasing who here? They’re leaving breadcrumbs and it isn’t to feed the birds.” I finally reach into my pocket, angry at the persistent vibration against my thigh. “You think they’re leaving a trail? Why?” he asks. I open my mouth to speak but fall silent as I see Caleb’s name staring back at me from my phone. “It’s her…” I mutter. Archer steps closer, cracking a bit more glass beneath his feet. “Who?” I answer it and tap on the speakerphone. “Caleb, where are you?” There’s no reply, just the gentle humming of voices in the background

and the dull scratch of the phone’s microphone brushing against fabric. “Caleb?” “It’s just a butt-dial, mate.” I shake my head, smiling wide. A little bit of weight slides off my shoulders. Caleb Fawn, you beautiful bitch. “No… she did this on purpose.” I lay the phone down next to my laptop and keep an ear on it. The voices are obviously Lilah and Elijah but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Archer moves around the counter to peek over my shoulder. “Why?” “Because she knows me,” I chuckle. With a few fast clicks, I tap into the call and a map of Los Angeles pops up on the screen. Several seconds pass

before it zooms in on the west side. “They’re on Santa Monica boulevard — heading towards the pier.” Archer leans in closer. “Shit… I hate Santa Monica.” “Me, too,” I mutter. “As long as she keeps the call open, I can track them. I’ll bring up the street cameras — should be able to snatch a picture of the license plate. Once I have that, this program will track the car using every security camera in the city in real-time, giving us a handy map of where they’re going and where they’ve been.” He tilts his head at me. “Who the hell are you?” I smile. “I’m Boxcar.” “And where they hell did you learn

to do this shit, Boxcar?” I chew on my cheek as memories take hold of me. “Afghanistan.” I spin away from the counter and step towards the back room as Archer follows me inside. “Hold on,” he says. “You were in Afghanistan?” “Yes.” I turn back to catch the look on his face. Predictably, his jaw drops as his eyes drink in the stunning array of assault weaponry and gadgets. “Civilian, though. I’m not military — but she was.” Archer leans against the doorway. His face curls into a wicked smile, once again thoroughly impressed with my choice of spouse. “They don’t make birds like that back home.”

“There’s never been a bird quite like Caleb Fawn,” I say, reaching for an M16 attached to the wall. I scan the shelves below it for ammo. “What’s your plan, mate?” he asks. “You just going to load up, drive on over there, and what?” “Get my wife back.” “Right… but these are world class assassins, as you pointed out. What makes you think a little run and gun isn’t going to make them pop a bullet in her brain before you even get close?” Adrenaline spikes inside of me but I bring it back down with a deep breath. I don’t have the training to make something like this work without a solid plan. For starters, I’d need a sniper but

Fox isn’t here and Archer looks more the brute force type. I lay the weapon back down on the shelf. “We have the upper hand right now and we have to keep it. The Harts don’t know I’ve tracked them and they probably don’t know about you either.” “Uh-huh…” Archer hums. I gesture around the room before walking out. “Grab what you need.” “Need for what?” “To catch a Hart.” “And then what?” I slide my laptop back into my messenger bag. “Then…” My brain twitches with yet another bad idea but the consequences of this going south aren’t nearly as horrible as the thought of

losing Caleb... again. “We’re taking a trip to Hollywood.”

Chapter 15 Caleb Afghanistan Two Years Ago I stare down at the disassembled revolver pieces littered about on my cot. This is the third time I’ve cleaned my weapon this week but I don’t care. Mindless, menial tasks are just about the only thing keeping me sane right now. What the hell was I thinking in that jeep? Scratch that. I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking about how I

could barely recall the last time I’d gotten any; about how I can’t stand the men around here but then in walks Boxcar — normal, smart, practically adorable in just about every way and just looking at his green eyes in the dark was enough to melt my damn panties right off. Fuck, he felt so good. But we can’t do this. It was a onetime thing. It’ll never happen again. Shit, I said the same thing after that kiss, didn’t I? I’ll just have to stay away from him between missions. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right? “Hey, Caleb.” Dammit.

I jerk my head up. Boxcar stands at the foot of my cot with his arms crossed. I look away, scanning the empty tent, hoping that someone else will walk in here and interrupt whatever the hell he’s about to do. “Go away, please—” “Hey…” He holds up his hands. “I come in peace.” I keep my head down and tighten the third screw on the side plate to keep the cylinder in place. “What do you want, Carson?” “To talk.” “We have nothing to talk about.” “Just... hear me out,” he says. “Please?” I pause, inhaling a lungful of thick, humid, desert air. Still, I keep my head

down and half of my focus stays on my weapon. “Fine.” “I know you’ve been avoiding me since the other night—” “I’m not avoiding you. I’m your bodyguard,” I argue. “Caleb, you haven’t looked me in the eye in a week. Either you’ve got quite the crick in your neck or you really like my shoes — but I’m guessing it’s neither.” I sigh and raise my head to look at him. He instantly smiles and my muscles turn to jelly. “There. I looked at you. Can I have a moment to myself now?” “Not yet.” He clears his throat. “I still have something to say.” “Then say it.” I keep my eyes

steady on him, desperately trying not to swoon. Somehow, he’s grown more attractive since that night. “Okay…” He shifts over to Fox’s cot and sits down across from me, giving me his complete attention. “I think — and it’s possible you might, too — that the two of us kind of got off on the wrong foot…” His hands jerk nervously. “And I don’t mean that in a puny way. I wasn’t referencing the two of us getting off—” I deepen my glare. “Boxcar.” “Right—” He shakes his head. “Obviously, I like you, Caleb. I think you’re beautiful and strong but there’s so much more to you than that. I would like the chance to go back in time and get to

know you as if the night in the jeep never happened — as amazing and strange as it was.” “Strange?” I raise a brow. “Well, I don’t know about you but beautiful women don’t often mount me in public places.” I fight my chuckle. “Okay. Strange it was.” “What say you, Caleb Fawn?” he asks. “Can we start over? As friends?” Those damn green eyes. “Fine,” I say. He points down at my revolver. “Where did you even get that?” he asks. “Doesn’t exactly look government issue.” “It…” I hesitate, choking on every

lie before the truth slips out. “It was my father’s.” “They let you bring it out here with you?” “No, it—” I pause and my eyes linger on his for a moment more. “He found it out here and his C.O. gave it to me when I arrived.” Boxcar’s brow rises with interest. “Your dad’s out here, too?” “Not anymore,” I answer. “His convoy was hit by a pipe bomb just before I enlisted.” He blinks and opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. “Damn…” he finally whispers. “His C.O. told me my dad never fired it; said he was saving it for a

special occasion, whatever that means. Apparently, he always kept it on him except for the one time he forgot it in his footlocker…” Boxcar eyes twinge with sympathy. “It’s been my good luck charm ever since.” “Can I hold it?” “No.” He raises his hands again and chuckles. “Okay.” His smile tickles my toes but I shake it off, hardening my shell. “What else do you want to know?” “Where are you from?” he asks. I hesitate for a moment, feeling a bit of self-consciousness ease in. I wasn’t expecting to dive into even more of my history so quickly but I guess I shouldn’t

feel so weird about sharing intimate details with someone I’ve already been intimate with. “Oklahoma.” Boxcar pauses. “Whereabouts?” “I was born in Tulsa. Grew up in Oklahoma City.” I watch his face, noting the dots connecting in his brain to form a new picture of me. “You?” “Tennessee,” he replies. “Born and raised in Memphis.” “Really?” I look over at him. “Do you like Elvis?” “No one from Memphis likes Elvis,” he chuckles. “Fox told me you like movies.” “Did he?” “He did.” “What else did you get out of him?”

Boxcar chews his lip. “Not a lot but I get the feeling he doesn’t know much to tell.” “That’s probably true.” “What’s your favorite movie?” I chuckle. “That’s a pretty loaded question.” “Try and narrow it down to one,” he smiles and shifts slightly on the cot but maintains a cool confidence in his eyes that I haven’t noticed before. “Off the top of your head — first one you think of.” “The Shining,” I say quickly. He tilts his head. “Really?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “It’s awesome. It’s scary and funny,

often at the same time.” Excitement surges through me. It’s rare for me to find anyone out here that wants to talk movies. “I’ve always had an odd thing for Jack Nicholson, too. Even when he’s threatening to bash Wendy’s brains in he never quite loses his adorableness.” “You’re a little messed up, Caleb Fawn,” he jokes, grinning. “Does that change your opinion of me?” “Nah.” “Well, what about you? What’s your favorite movie?” “The Lion King.” I pause. “Your favorite movie is The Lion King?” “Hell yes,” he nods with zeal.

“Why?” “You try watching that opening sequence and not shedding at least one tear!” We laugh. “It’s got everything. It’s heartbreaking, it’s hilarious, it’s got an artsy love scene set to a cheesy Elton John song — it’s perfect.” “Okay.” I wet my lips, forcing my smile to calm down. “I’ll accept that answer.” “Also... I always liked the idea of becoming something bigger than yourself,” he continues. “You might be a weak kid now but someday you’ll be a king, you know?” I nod softly. “I guess I can relate to that.” “Yeah?”

“Well, yeah. I’m from Oklahoma.” He laughs. “Where I’m from, every girl dreams that someday they’ll get out of this dump, move to New York or Hollywood, become some big star, and everyone who ever wronged them would end up shining their shoes.” “Did you?” “Yeah,” I say, forcing a lazy shrug. I gesture around. “Obviously, not every dream comes true.” He gazes back at me, pausing to let the words sink in. “I guess I can relate to that.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “You didn’t dream of getting trapped out in the Afghani desert, dying

of heat exposure?” I quip. “I can’t say I did,” he laughs, “but I guess it hasn’t been all bad, right?” I give a short smile, feeling a sharp, pleasurable twinge in my core. “I guess not.” His eyes fall to my lips but he quickly looks away and stands up off the cot. “Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” he says. “I just wanted to clear the air and all that…” “Boxcar.” “What?” I shift my boots to the floor and stand up, ignoring every ounce of regret screaming inside of me, and I lay my lips on his cheek. I feel him tremble as I kiss him and when I pull back, his eyes are

twice as wide as before. He blinks quickly to hide it. “I just wanted to do that,” I tell him. “Cool,” he says, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab some dinner. You want to join —” “Don’t push it.” He spins around, grinning wide. “It was worth a shot.” My own smile spreads, this one far too intense to hold back. This damn guy. No matter how hard I try to distance myself from him, he keeps pulling me back in with each new moment feeling newer and warmer than the last. He wanders out of the tent, leaving me alone with a very real, peculiar

sense of being watched. “Well, that was interesting.” I jolt as Fox walks into the tent. “How long have you been out there?” I accuse. He smirks. “Since The Lion King.” I sigh. “It’s not what it looks like.” “Liar.” “We’re friends.” “No, you and I are friends, Caleb,” he grins. “You two are not friends.” I scoff. “Shut up.” He chuckles and plops down onto his cot as I sit on mine. “I’m not poking fun here, Caleb. I think it’s great — maybe a little irresponsible given the setting — but great.” “Exactly,” I say. “This could be

very bad for both of us.” “Well, just be smart about it and you’ll be okay.” He glares at me. “You know… no more sneaking off to midnight rendezvous together…” I blink. “You saw that?” “I might have.” “Crap…” I eye him closely. “Wait — how much did you see?” He holds up his hands. “I didn’t see anything. Just him pulling you out of bed… and you coming back a half hour later looking like you just committed murder.” My shoulders sink. “This is bad.” He smirks. “But I guess it hasn’t been all bad, right?” I roll my fingers into a fist and reach over to slam it

against his shoulder. He winces with painful laughter and moves his hands up to block a second hit. “I’m sorry,” he laughs. “I couldn’t resist.” I settle back, letting my fingers relax. “It was a good line, though, wasn’t it?” Fox nods. “He really likes you, Caleb. Don’t break his heart too badly.” “What makes you think I will?” “I’d answer that,” he says, “but you’d probably hit me again.” “Fair enough. I’ll spare you the pain.” “Thank you.” He lies down on his cot and closes his eyes. My ankles bounce, plagued by a nervous jitter that I haven’t been able to

shake for days and that little kiss on the cheek just made it so much worse. “Hey, Fox — you hungry?” “Just go,” he smirks. “Okay.” I stand up and bend down to slide my boots on. “Caleb.” I turn back to Fox. “Yeah?” He peeks out at me through one open eye. “Be smart,” he reminds. I look down to hide the blush invading my cheeks. “I will.” Fox closes his eyes but his smirk remains as I step outside into the camp. Dusk eases into the sky, painting even the golden sand a deep shade of blue. A bustle of laughter and voices draws me towards the other side of camp where

most have gathered for what passes as dinner around here, Boxcar included. He sits alone, as usual, gazing at his laptop screen. It reflects off his lenses and as I drift closer, I notice the satellite feed glaring back at me. I ease into the seat across from him without saying a word. His expression doesn’t change and I wait a few moments to see if it does. I expect him to smile back at me as he closes the laptop and perhaps fold his hands together in front of him to hide the red in his face, but he doesn’t. His eyes eventually pop up at me but he holds that somber expression with an iron will. “They’re back,” Boxcar finally says.

“Who’s back?” “Them…” He turns the laptop in my direction and I stare at the image, instantly recognizing the layout as the warehouse we checked out weeks ago. “The convoy?” I ask. He nods. “I’ve been watching this place like a damn hawk. No one has come anywhere near it since we left it until about ten minutes ago. One car drove up and two guys got out — it’s gotta be the ones that brought me here, I can just feel it—” “I thought you were going to let this go, Boxcar.” “Would you?” he asks. “Be honest, Caleb. If these people dragged you down here and tried to kill you, wouldn’t you

want to know a definitive reason why? It couldn’t have been for nothing.” I bite my inner cheek. The last thing I want to do is fuel this obsession but I don’t want to lie to him either. “Okay, fine,” I answer, “but there’s nothing you can do about it. Command told us to ignore it, so—” “Command told the military to ignore it. Not me. I can go — tonight. They haven’t been there long, there’s still time to get there before they disappear again.” I blink. “And do what? Ask them politely why they almost executed you? It’s stupid, not to mention suicide.” He pulls the laptop towards himself again. “I might not get another chance,

Caleb…” “Is that really the worst thing in the world?” I ask. “You’ve already escaped, Boxcar. As your bodyguard, I strongly deny this request for you to leave camp.” “I’m not asking permission,” he says. “Just a blind eye.” “Box…” I inhale a deep breath. “If you really want to go there, then be smart. Tell Rhys.” “I’m not bringing other people into this.” He shakes his head. “No way.” I push out of my seat. “Then I will.” “Caleb—” Boxcar reaches across the table and grabs my hand, drawing the eyes of most everyone around us. “Boxcar, there’s not a single person here that will condemn you for what you

did,” I say. “Gun to the head, I’m pretty sure all of us would have made the same choice.” His grip relaxes on my fingers but it doesn’t fall. “If you want to find out what’s going on in that warehouse, then this is your best chance. You don’t have to trust them, but trust me.” He inhales a deep, frustrated breath and drops my hand. “All right…” There’s betrayal in his tone but I can’t just let him wander out there and get killed. I feel a connection to Boxcar, one I’m not entirely sure how to describe, but I one thing is certain: I’m not ready to let it go yet. Not until I know for sure what it means.

Chapter 16 Caleb Los Angeles Present Day “Does this look better in green or blue?” I raise my head again. Lilah stands in front of a mirror in the corner with two expensive cocktail dresses in either hand hanging off padded clothes hangers. Her eyes look back at me with expectation, like we’re just good friends out for a day of shopping and caramel

lattes but — in my experience — one friend usually isn’t duct taped to a chair, pumped full of a rather extreme sedative. My tongue feels weak and heavy but at least I’ve stopped slurring. “No idea.” She scoffs and tosses the blue one down before sliding the green one off its hanger. “You know, you’re making this whole thing way more unpleasant than it needs to be.” I force a laugh and look around the abandoned boutique. It wasn’t quite this deserted twenty minutes ago when Lilah walked in here and politely asked everyone to leave while Elijah knocked out the poor check-out girl. She’ll wake up eventually, although I’m surprised

they are so willing to leave a trail of witnesses around, given their job titles. Lilah pulls her shirt up and over her head and I catch sight of the black cobra tattoo swirling down from between her covered breasts, nestled inside a tight, red bra. I’d only seen Fox’s tattoo once. He wants to have it removed but every tattoo removal place in the country has been on high alert since Snake Eyes was exposed. Something tells me the Harts aren’t too eager to remove theirs. They seem like the type that take a lot of pride in their work. “I’m really digging the green…” Lilah ponders aloud. “It brings out my eyes...” “I don’t know…” I quip, staring at

the bright, crimson shiner taking hold of her forehead. “Green and red are more holiday colors, don’t you think?” She spins around to face me and her lips twitch. “Cute.” I shrug. Lilah pushes the dress down to the floor and grabs the blue one to try on as Elijah steps in from the back. “For fuck’s sake, Lilah…” he says, shaking his head and averting his eyes. “Is this really the time for that?” “Hey—” she says, sliding the blue dress down over her sizable chest. “This bastard is taking too long. I’m bored and I never get to buy new clothes.” “Because we don’t exactly have anywhere to put them,” he points out.

“We live on the road, remember?” “Not for very much longer, if you’re to have your way.” She steps back in front of the mirror to check out the dress and tilts her head in approval. “You know what — I think you’re right, Caleb. Blue is better.” “Yay,” I mutter. Elijah hops up to sit on the counter and crosses his arms. “My way?” “Oh, please,” she says. “You’re obviously considering going through with what Dante suggested.” “And you’re not?” he replies. “No. Of course, I’m not.” She pulls the dress off and Elijah twists his neck in my direction, rolling his eyes with annoyance. It’s clear which

one of them inherited modesty and which one obviously has no shame whatsoever. “Lilah, I just think that it might be nice to try living a normal life for once in our lives,” he says. “Uh-huh…” she murmurs, her eyes full of suspicion as she slips back into her own shirt. “I really don’t think there’d be any harm in trying,” he fires back. “It’s not like I’m about to go shopping for a minivan or anything.” “Okay… Caleb—” she chuckles, looking over at me as she zips her pants up. “You and I aren’t that different.” “We’re what now?” I ask. “We both come from very interesting backgrounds,” she says,

counting on her fingers. “We’re both highly-trained in various forms of combat and possess unique, but valuable, survival skills…” “What’s your point?” She sighs. “When you came back from the war… did normal life come easy?” “Lilah, come on—” Elijah interrupts. “No offense to you, Caleb, but this doesn’t seem like the type of thing we need your opinion on.” “Don’t be rude, Elijah,” she says, batting her thick eyelashes. “Her opinion is just as valid as anyone else’s.” “I’m not saying it isn’t but it might be a bit tainted considering we tied her to a damn chair.”

“Caleb — be honest.” Lilah crosses her arms in defiance. “You came back home and you looked around. Were you happy to be here or were you confused as all hell?” My attention shifts between them. “Oh, it was great, actually,” I say, forcing a tight smile. “Normal life is the best thing ever. In fact, you two should start right now. Go home. No hard feelings. Bye-bye.” Elijah raises a victorious brow at his twin. “See?” “I’m going to take her sarcastic response as full agreement to my original point,” Lilah says. “As much as Dante wants to believe it, we can never live normal lives. I wish it were

possible, I do, but…” She shakes her head. “He and Lucy are living on borrowed time.” Elijah falls silent and subtle agreement fills his eyes. I raise my head up a little higher. “Who are Dante and Lucy?” He sighs, firing a hard look at Lilah. “Nice going.” “What difference does it make?” I ask. “You’re planning on killing me anyway, right?” Lilah snorts with a sour expression. “I don’t kill anyone unless someone pays me to.” “Then who’s paying you to kill Fox?” They both press their lips together

and their eyes lock. Elijah hops off the counter and wanders behind it to check the outside security feed. “I think that’s a good place to hit the pause button on this conversation, sis.” Lilah shifts on her feet. “Fine.” I watch them closely. The slight flair of their nostrils. The low twitch of their brows. The fear hidden deep in their eyes. The answer to my question isn’t a simple as I thought it’d be. There’s someone behind the scenes, yanking at their strings, sliding a pointed finger along their throats to frighten them into keeping quiet. Lilah kneels next to my chair and pulls her pack in closer so she can stuff

a few slinky dresses inside of it. “No,” I say, breaking the awkward silence. She looks up at me, preparing to shoot down any judgmental snark I might throw at her. “No, what?” “Normal life doesn’t come easy,” I answer. “It sucks, actually. I’ve been here for two years and it’s still a struggle to even get out of bed in the morning.” The tension slips from her shoulders. “Would you go back in, if you could?” “Not sure. Depends, I suppose.” “On what?” “Whether or not anyone wanted me around at all.”

Her face falls a little more but a quick blink brings her attention back to me. “What about your husband?” I laugh softly. “If you can even call him that.” “Honey…” She shifts into a sideeye. “We dropped your name once and he came running out here from fucking Massachusetts.” A smile visits my mouth but I keep it down. “I guess he did.” She stands up and tosses her now stuffed bag onto a seat near the wall. “Lilah, you don’t have to do this. Just leave Fox alone—” “Caleb, don’t confuse my docile tone for weakness,” she says quickly. “I came here to do a job and I intend on finishing it. It’s nothing personal.”

“Fox is like a brother to me,” I urge, glancing at Elijah. “Surely you can imagine why I want to protect him.” Lilah inhales deep. “I’m sorry, Caleb… but it’s your family or mine.” I open my mouth to argue further but quickly realize there’s no point. Lilah and Elijah are trained killers. Appealing to their humanity isn’t going to get me very far. No amount of sisterly bonding over boutique dresses is going to change her mind either. “I’m sorry about your eye,” I say instead. “No, you’re not,” she smirks. “You’re right. You deserved it.” Her curved brow points upward and she spins on her heel to join Elijah behind the counter. Before she takes

three steps, the lights of the store go dark and she freezes in place. “Elijah…” she says, “what’d you do?” “It wasn’t me.” He stares at the computer again and I hear the frantic taps of keys and clicks of the mouse. “The outdoor security cams have been overridden—” “Move.” Lilah nudges him aside to take control but the monitor shuts off the second she touches the keyboard. “Dammit…” An explosion echoes from the back rooms, sending Elijah and Lilah into a quick sprint towards the source. With their eyes finally off of me, I try to pull against the harsh, tight tape keeping me latched to the chair but I can do nothing

useful in my current condition. I doubt I could even stand up on my own, given the opportunity. “Caleb—” I look over my shoulder, drawn to his quick, piercing whisper. “Boxcar—” He kneels down in front of me and pulls a pocket knife from his pack. “What the hell are you doing—” “I tracked your phone call,” he says, smirking like a smartass. “Yeah, except it was their phone call. You walked right into a damn trap.” He pauses. “I did?” I gesture over his shoulder and he peeks around as Lilah and Elijah raise their guns from their spot behind the counter.

“Yes,” Elijah says, “you did.” “Drop the knife, Boxcar,” Lilah warns. Boxcar gazes up at me over the rims of his glasses. His fingers spread wide and the tiny knife tumbles to the floor. “Sorry,” he whispers at me. “It’s okay…” I say, fear clenching at me. Now that he’s here, Elijah’s threats from earlier come hurdling back to me. Lilah grabs his arm as Elijah pulls up a second chair and positions it across from me. They force Boxcar onto it and Lilah keeps one hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Please, don’t hurt him,” I beg. “Tell us where we can find Fox and

we won’t,” she says. “Last chance.” I look over at Elijah as he withdraws a cylindrical canvas bag and unrolls it across the counter to reveal various knives inside, each one just waiting to carve into Boxcar. My heart sinks. “Please.” Boxcar stares back at me and I recognize his eyes. It’s that same cocky glance, like he has everything under control but he sure as hell doesn’t. He nods at me but fear overtakes him as Elijah passes a glittering blade in front of his widening eyes and into Lilah’s outstretched hand. “Boxcar,” Lilah begins again, “think about it. It’s just Fox Fitzpatrick.” “He saved my life,” Boxcar argues.

“And he really fucked up ours,” she replies. “Along with the lives of hundreds of others. He could have gone out quietly. Instead, he chose to sink the ship while he snuck off in a damn lifeboat.” “Boo-hoo,” he mutters. I inhale sharply as Lilah flexes her fingers around the knife. “Box…” “No, I stand by it.” He shakes his head. “Why should we care about a bunch of assassins having a career crisis?” “Because…” Elijah says, clearing his throat, “it wasn’t just a bunch of assassins that had their lives torn away by all of this. I can think of one innocent woman in Illinois that may never walk

again and the reason why traces right back to Fox’s actions. Who knows how far out that ripple has traveled and how many lives have been tampered with because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” “Killing Fox won’t change any of that,” Boxcar argues. “No, but it’ll make our boss very happy,” Elijah says. “Believe me when I tell you that it’s better off for everyone involved, including the two of you, that she stays that way.” “We’re not giving up Fox,” I say through my teeth, drawing Boxcar’s shaking eyes. He nods back at me. “Do what you want — cut me, kill me — I don’t care.”

“You’re willing to die to protect him?” Lilah asks. Boxcar doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. He’d do the same for me.” Her eyes shift away from him and land on me. “Are you willing to watch her die to protect him?” I can see it in his eyes. No. He’s absolutely not willing to watch me die at all. His tense shoulders submit down and his jaw flexes. “Boxcar — no. They aren’t going to kill me. They’ve already told me that.” Lilah smirks. “And you believed me?” Her hand slips off Boxcar’s shoulder as she steps towards me. He shifts in his chair but Elijah forces him back down with a strong hand. “We

were told to take care of Fox Fitzpatrick. The reward is well-worth an extra one or two lives and I will bear that weight if I have to.” Boxcar pinches his eyes closed as she lays the cold blade against my neck. “Please, stop—” he begs. “Tell us where Fox is,” she says. I feel the sharp pressure on my skin and Boxcar’s resolve shakes even more. “You have three seconds and then I spill every drop of her on the floor.” “Box, don’t—” I cry. “Three.” He grits his teeth. “Two.” The knife digs deeper. “One—”

“Okay!” Boxcar shouts. “He’s here —” I exhale as sadness overwhelms me. “Box…” “In Los Angeles,” he tells them. “I’ll take you to him.” Lilah lowers the blade and passes it back to Elijah. Her cold eyes dip down to me. “I guess he didn’t rush out here just for you after all,” she says. My eyes falls to the floor as the twins wander away from us to gather their things. I feel Boxcar’s stare on me but I can’t bring myself to even look at him. Dammit, Boxcar. She was bluffing. Even if she wasn’t, you shouldn’t have traded Fox’s life for mine.

Elijah walks back over to my chair and swipes the duct tape around my wrists with his knife. My arms slink down into my lap. I think for a moment that I’ll try to lift them but I can barely get them elbow high before they fall down again. He moves to lift me up and carry me out but Boxcar steps forward. “Move—” he says. “I’ll do that.” Elijah slides back and Boxcar kneels down in front of me. “You okay?” he whispers. I don’t answer. Instead, I give a half shake of my head and his eyes grow a bit darker with shame. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way. He’ll understand that.” “Let’s go,” Lilah barks, growing impatient.

Boxcar helps me out of the chair. I feel my knees caving in beneath my weight already and I lean against his willing shoulders to keep myself up. He sighs and bends over to scoop me into his arms but I don’t do a thing to argue. The swelling warmth in my chest wouldn’t allow it anyway. He holds me closer and I rest my head on his shoulder. As twisted as she is, Lilah is right. Boxcar would sacrifice just about anything to save my life and I can’t deny or ignore that fact any longer. He may be all I have left once this is all over. I wrap my arms around his neck, moving as quickly as my dead muscles will allow and his grip tightens around

me. He holds me as close as possible, almost as if it’s the last time he ever will. The Harts lead us out into the back alleyway and into their black car. The two of them sit up front while Boxcar keeps a firm grip on me. Fox’s address passes off of his tongue and he squeezes my hand hard to beg for my forgiveness. “If you’re lying,” Lilah hums from the driver’s seat, “I’ll kill you.” “He’s not,” I murmur, leaning against Boxcar’s shoulder. She ticks her tongue. “I figured, but… still, it’s fun to say.” I don’t have the energy to laugh at her joke, nor would I if I did. I can’t believe I’m about to go

through this all over again. The death of Fox Fitzpatrick.

Chapter 17 Boxcar Afghanistan Two Years Ago “So, let me get this straight…” Rhys heaves a thick breath and I feel the phantom noose tighten a little more around my neck. He leans forward from his spot on the edge of the table in the command tent, his eyes burrowing a little deeper into mine. “You got kidnapped by an old lady?” Rogers and West chuckle behind my

chair but I ignore it. “It wasn’t so much the old lady as much as it was the giant men with assault rifles, but yes.” “And you think she’s here?” I shake my head. “Not her — but they are. I saw them on the Army’s surveillance footage of Kabul.” He raise a brow. “And how did you get access to that?” “It wasn’t difficult — and isn’t it my job to keep an eye on things around here anyway?” “We’re a little far from Kabul, kid.” My head drops. “You can press charges against me later,” I say, “but please, we’ve already wasted enough time. They could be gone by now.”

Rhys pauses and his eyes scan the others behind me. “Fawn,” he mutters, “you vouch for this?” “I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I didn’t, sir,” she answers. I fight the urge to turn around and look at her, no matter how comforting the act might be right now. He narrows his eyes and his tongue pushes at his cheek in thought. “And you have no idea what they wanted those files for?” he asks me. “No. Like I said, they could be for some kind of recruitment but I can’t be sure. It’s what I’ve been trying to find out since I got here.” He goes silent again and scratches at his fuzzy face. “I’m telling you the truth. I have no

reason to make this up and you know it.” “Oh, I have no doubts you’re telling the truth, kid,” he says. “That’s not what’s bothering me.” “Then what’s bothering you?” Rhys stands up and keeps his eyes on me as he rounds the table. “I’ve suspected for a while now that someone over our heads was… a little less than truthful.” He waves me over with his fingers and I step forward as he rolls out a map of Afghanistan across the table. “The warehouse you found is here,” he points at the map. “Now, a few weeks before we picked you up, we tailed another convoy to a compound about fifteen miles south of camp. We called it in and command told us to forget about

it.” “Just like they said to forget about this one?” He nods. “This has happened about a half dozen times in the last year. Same story, different location. We track them down, command tells us to back off for no reason.” “You think someone up top knows who they are and what they’re doing?” “I wasn’t sure until just now…” “So, what do we do about it?” Fox asks. I look over my shoulder, drawn back by his steady voice. He stands behind me now and I’m thankful to see trust in his eyes — the same I see in Caleb’s. Since the moment I arrived here, he’s had my back more than

anyone. “Well…” Rhys stands up tall. “We can call it in and wait for them to shoot us down or we can just say fuck it and deal with the slap on the wrist later.” A flowery scent teases my nose and I know that the new boots behind me are Caleb’s. A quick look back tells me that Rogers and West aren’t sitting anymore either. “I don’t want anyone getting slapped for this but me,” I say. Rhys chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that, kid? Everybody suit up. Let’s find out what these bastards are up to.” I sigh as they all spin around and march out of the command tent one-byone. Caleb lingers back with me and when I finally glance up, she’s smiling.

“What?” I ask, my stomach growling with dread. “You look about ready to hurl.” “I might.” “Well, keep it together,” she says. She rolls her fist and nudges my shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” “It’s not me I’m worried about.” Being friends with Caleb Fawn is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Suddenly, every threat is far scarier than it should be. Every potential bug in the code is a virus just waiting to wipe out everything of value — everything that means something to me. “We know what we’re doing, Box,” she assures me.

I nod, losing any drive I have to argue with it but the black tar taking hold of my gut remains. *** I balance my laptop in the sand and scan the radar for something — anything — that could be a potential threat. Fox lies prone next to me with one eye pressed against his scope. “I see two inside,” he mutters into the radio. “They’re sitting at a table — looks like they’re waiting on something.” “Copy that,” Rhys whispers back. I pick up the binoculars and squint through them, flicking on the night vision

to get a better view of the black warehouse in the distance. Caleb jumped at the chance to join Rhys, West, and Rogers in surrounding the warehouse and I’ve been a fucking wreck ever since. Even her quippy shut up and stay here wasn’t enough to calm me down. I see her now, her petite figure standing out among the tall, muscled forms of the others. I didn’t hurl before we came out here but I sure as hell might now. “Hey, Boxcar.” I jolt slightly at Fox’s voice. “What?” “Don’t give up.” “On what?” “On her,” he says, still focusing through his scope.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He peeks out at me for a short moment, his brown eyes calling bullshit. “Take it from me, man. There aren’t a lot things I believe in anymore… but I believe in you guys.” “Why?” I ask. “Because what’s the fucking point otherwise? The world binds us to certain people. Most are bad, but some are pretty good. I highly doubt the two of you just stumbled on each other out of coincidence but if you did — you can’t waste it.” He pauses. “Not like I did.” I stare ahead into the black desert. “You make it sound easy.” “Don’t make it difficult. She’ll do that enough for both of you.”

“That’s probably true.” Fox clicks on his radio. “Fall back, Sergeant. They hear you.” I raise the binoculars as panic strains my chest. Two blurry figures pass by the warehouse windows from the inside, one larger and balder than the other and my blood runs cold. “It’s them…” I search for Caleb but I’ve lost her. Rhys and West stand around the front side, pressed hard against the wall to avoid detection but I can’t find Caleb or Rogers anywhere. “Where is she?” “She went around the back,” Fox answers, readying his radio again. “Caleb, they’re heading in your direction. Get out of sight now—” A single bullet fires and my hands

jerk so hard, I drop the binoculars. “Fox—” Caleb’s voice cuts off and my heart stops. “Man down,” Rhys says. “Fitzpatrick, we’re going in. If you get a shot, take it.” “Who’s down?” I ask, grabbing the binoculars again. I force my grip and I try to look through them. “Fox, who’s down?!” “I don’t know. I can’t see.” Another wave of gunshots spill out, flooding the air with a popping echo. I freeze in the sand, ready to bury my head in it but I can’t stop staring at the warehouse. Caleb. She’s in there and I can’t do a fucking thing from back here.

I push up and I start running. “Boxcar, stop!” I ignore Fox’s warning, forcing one foot in front of the other. Regret builds with each step but I swallow it down between heaving breaths. The warehouse draws closer every second but each one that passes could mean a bullet through Caleb’s perfect green eyes. Finally, I charge through the front door and my nose twitches with the scent of blood. Rhys. West. Rogers. Each of them lie on the floor, face down and still, with a pool of red flowing out of their heads. I slink back, feeling a wave of nausea plague my gut.

“Holy shit!” A giant hand slaps against my shoulder and it pulls me forward. His voice echoes in my memories, that same barking drawl that bossed me around for days. “It’s you!” I look up into the hard, black eyes of the bald man and cringe. For a second, I wonder if it’s a good thing that he looks happy to see me but then I realize that it just means he gets to tie up a potential loose end. “Boxcar…” Caleb’s whimper draws my attention to the table. She sits in the chair with her fingers weaved together behind her head and for a moment, I breathe easier. Then I notice the bearded man with his gun pressed against her head

and it all melts away. “Please don’t hurt her,” I beg. The bald man pulls me to the table and forces me down into the chair beside her. She stares back at me with a blood-splattered face, her eyes drifting behind my head as I feel the hard, metal tip of a gun push against my skull. “The Boss will be delighted to know we found you,” the bald man says. He pulls back the hammer beside my ear and I flinch. “Don’t worry about the lady. We won’t kill her… yet.” The bearded man’s laughter cuts short and his body crumbles to the floor behind Caleb’s chair. “What the fuck—” More blood strikes Caleb’s face

and I spin around in time to see the bald man’s eyes roll back into his head before he joins his friend on the floor. My jaw drops as I see the dark red dots in the center of each of their foreheads. Fox fucking Fitzpatrick. I heave a nauseous breath, full of happy relief, and turn to look at Caleb as her palm crashes into my face. “Ow!” Pain shoots through my cheek, firing down my neck as she climbs to her feet. “What—!” “What the hell were you thinking?!” she shouts. “Running in here like that. Are you insane?” I stand up and she shoves me backward. “I did it to help you!” “This isn’t a game, Boxcar!” She

pushes me again and I grab her wrists as my back touches the wall. “You could have been killed but you still ran in here…” “Of course, I did.” “Why?!” There’s a million different things I could say to answer her but there’s only one thing I want to do that will tell her everything. I hold her face, smearing the blood on her cheeks, and crush my lips against hers with a firm kiss. Her resolve shifts in my direction and she kisses me back, gripping my waist to push me against the wall. We break away, each of us taking deep breaths to calm ourselves as our lips brush together. My fingers tingle

from the heat rising off her face, blending with mine. “I’d do it again,” I whisper, laying my forehead against hers. She looks back at me with more fear in her eyes than I’ve ever seen. They close and she shakes her head as she turns away from me. The door opens and her hands drop to her sides. Fox steps in and his eyes fall to the floor. He exhales at the display of redcovered bodies. “You guys okay?” “Yeah,” Caleb says quickly. He looks at me, sensing the tension between us and I nod in agreement. I lean back against the wall again as blood’s stench raids my senses. It brings me back to that moment in the

warehouse when I watched these same men murder two other innocents before pointing their guns at me. That same metallic smell. I’d be covered with it already if it weren’t for Caleb and Fox. It’s best not to think about it, I suppose. I’m still here. I’m still breathing. And so is she. “We’ll take our men back with us,” Caleb says, gesturing at Fox to help her. “Grab his legs.” He lays his gun down and walks over to Rhys’ corpse. Caleb scoops her hands beneath his shoulders and the two of them raise him off the floor as if he weighed nothing at all — as if he wasn’t living and breathing just five minutes ago. I bet he’s even still warm.

This is all my fault. “Boxcar.” Fox lays a hand on my shoulder and I blink out of it, realizing that they’ve already carried Rhys and West outside into the jeep. “Yeah?” I ask. “You in there?” I clear my throat and exhale the stench out of my lungs. “Yeah.” “I need you to look around,” he tells me. “See if you can find anything that’ll tell us what they were doing out here. Can you do that?” I nod. “Yeah.” He drops his hand and steps away. “Fox… I’m sorry.” I look to the floor at our dead enemies and the pool of blood flowing beneath each

of them — struck down by Fox’s bullets. “That… can’t be easy.” Fox looks at their bodies. “It never is,” he says, “but you two are still here. That’s something.” There’s a slight tremble in his tone but it’s not enough to bleed into his optimism. Honestly, I’m not sure how he’s managed not to break, given everything he’s been through. I push off the wall, clinging to what remains of strength inside of me and I get to work while Fox and Caleb gather Rogers off the floor. There’s not much to look through. Not even a document or a note. A computer would be nice. Whatever they were doing out here, they made damn

sure they weren’t going to leave a trail. I pause above their bodies. The obvious place to look would be their pockets but the idea of rummaging through a dead man’s clothing gives me the chills. Still, I fight through the feeling and kneel down to check them. Over a dozen pockets between them and not one damn wallet. No identification. No notepad. Nothing. I sit back in disappointment, ready to abandon them completely, but a bit of ink catches my eye just above the bald man’s navel. I reach out and raise his shirt a little higher, revealing the coiling tail of a cobra etched into his skin. Thin, black eyes stare back at me from between his

pecs and I cringe at how much this tattoo must have hurt to get. I stand up as a memory flicks on in my brain, fueled by a deja vu I can’t pin down. This snake. I’ve seen it before but not inked into someone’s skin. It was… My memories flash back to that night in Paris. I sat at Marilyn Black’s table with a cup of cold tea in front of me while she drilled me with questions. She wore a silver pendant around her neck and I never thought a second thing of it until just now. It was a cobra. Just like this tattoo. I step over to the bearded man and pull up his shirt, too. The same black eyes stare back at me from his abs.

“Box, it’s time to go,” Fox says from the doorway. “What about them?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Leave them.” I hesitate but I force myself to stand up and follow Fox outside into the jeep. My curiosity is stronger than ever now. Matching tattoos are usually reserved for two groups of people: drunk college girls and criminal organizations. There can’t be too many that use this cobra to mark their members. An SUV is already parked by the command tent by the time we reach camp. Caleb called ahead to give them a head’s up but there’s no way the upper command could have sent someone out to replace Rhys so quickly.

The three of us step inside the command tent to find a tall man standing at the head of the table with at least five other mystery men lingering behind him, all of them wearing recently pressed BDUs. Frowning faces all around with the exception to the tall man. He grins wide as he sees us, the edges of his wrinkled smile hidden beneath a brown and silver mustache. “You must be Fitzpatrick!” he says, zooming in on Fox. He steps around the table and thrusts his hand forward, snatching up Fox’s before he can even react. “Yes, sir…” “From what I hear, you’re quite the shot. I look forward to working with

you,” he says with wide eyes. Fox nods and he scan the rest of the new men seated around. “I’m Sergeant Paxton. I’m taking over this camp starting now and you’ll be joining my squad. Welcome aboard.” Fox opens his mouth to argue but Paxton talks over him, pointing a hard finger at Caleb. “Fawn, right?” he asks, spinning back to a stack of paperwork. He slides a file out and opens it, smiling. “Caleb?” “Yes, sir,” she says. “You’re going home in the morning.” Caleb goes stiff. “Sir—” “I understand the mix-up but you’re not allowed out here — should have been shipped back the second your boot

hit the ground.” “Sir, I’m a valuable member of this team—” “Not anymore.” “I ask you to reconsider, sir.” “And I ask you to know your place.” She falls silent, crushed and vulnerable, and it pisses me off. “Sir—” Fox steps forward. “I can vouch for Fawn. She has a right to be here.” “The decision has already been made. And you.” Paxton shifts over to me and stares down with black eyes. “Who the hell are you?” I throw on my best, shit-eating grin. “I’m Boxcar.”

His lips twitch. “Boxcar?” “Yep.” “And just what do you do here, Boxcar?” I look at Caleb. Her head is down, her eyes just barely open to hide her sadness. This fucking guy. “I’m a civilian intelligence freelancer,” I answer. He laughs hard. “What the hell is that?” “I monitor security.” “Is that all?” he scoffs. “Nope. I also run and maintain the satellite system surrounding this camp for twenty miles, which means nothing drifts in and out of that radius without me knowing about it — including the

very SUV that transported you and your men here tonight.” “Is that right?” “You entered that radius at about seven-fifteen,” I point out. “Made it here in record time.” “Well, the loss of a leader like Rhys hits an operation like this fairly hard,” he says. “I came out here the second I heard from camp.” “Except that Caleb didn’t make that call until seven-eighteen.” His amusement drains from his wrinkled face. “You were already on your way here by then, meaning you heard Rhys was dead from someone else. Now, who could that have been?” Paxton blinks once and leans in

closer, using every inch he has on me to his intimidating advantage. “You’re out of here,” he whispers. “I don’t need civilian intelligence freelancers clogging up my camp.” “Or monitoring your calls, right?” I smirk. “Boxcar…” Fox warns softly. “Get out of this tent.” Paxton spins around and fires another look at Caleb. “Both of you. Fitzpatrick, you stay here and brief me on what happened out there tonight.” Caleb immediately turns and steps outside but I linger behind, drawing close to Fox’s ear. “Watch your back,” I whisper. He flexes his jaw and gives me a

subtle nod as I pass by him. “Caleb!” I pick up my pace to catch up with her. She doesn’t turn around and keeps her quick stride towards the barracks. “Hold on…” “Not now, Boxcar.” “Wait, wait—” I slip my fingers around her elbow but she quickly tugs free. “Caleb, stop.” She halts and I swing in front of her to block her. “What do you want?” Her eyes stay low like an animal cowering from thunder over its head, outright refusing to look at me, and I bleed inside. There’s nothing I want more than to hold her right now but the spiked armor she’s got on won’t make that easy.

“I want you to know that you can talk to me,” I say. “Anytime you want. I’m here.” Caleb shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk, Box.” “Then what do you need?” She finally looks up and I see that darkness overwhelming the green in her eyes. “I need you to leave me alone.” “I can’t do that,” I say, digging my heels into the sand. “We need to stick together. Now more than ever. I don’t know who this Paxton guy is but I don’t think he is who he says he is—” “No.” “No, what?” “The team is gone, Boxcar,” she says, her voice a dead tone. “You’re free

to go home. I’m not your bodyguard anymore. Let’s just be thankful we made it this far at all and move on.” “Caleb…” I sigh, studying the waves of sadness on her face. “You don’t want that.” “It doesn’t really matter what I want.” “It matters to me,” I whisper. “I’d like to think that what I want matters to you, too.” Her eyes drop again. “No.” “You’re lying.” “What difference does it make?” she snaps. “We go home and what happens?” “We look out for each other.” “I don’t want anyone to look out for

me.” I grit my teeth. Her stubbornness has gone too far this time. “Don’t shut me out, Caleb.” “You were never in, Boxcar,” she says. “Excuse me.” “Caleb—” She steps around me but I don’t have the patience to chase her down again so I let her go. Goddammit, Caleb. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Caleb’s personal bubble is fortified with titanium but I thought maybe we’d grown past that. Apparently not. I’m still just Boxcar, the boy that follows her around like a lovesick puppy and that’s what I always will be even after everything

we’ve been through. Maybe there’s a silver lining to all of this. I’m finally going home. No more drifting for scraps of food or places to sleep. I’ve got an all-expenses paid flight back to U.S. soil courtesy of the U.S. Army — back to Tennessee where I belong. Not that there’s much waiting for me when I get there except for my parents but they decided a long time ago that they didn’t want me around. And Caleb? She’ll go back to Oklahoma. Her mother will probably be happy to see her — happy that she came home alive, unlike her father. They’ll reminisce and catch-up and maybe she’ll ask Caleb if there were any cute guys deployed with her. Caleb will surely

roll her eyes and dismiss it but if I’m lucky… she’ll think of me. Sure. I guess we’ll call that a silver lining.

Chapter 18 Caleb Afghanistan Two Years Ago “Caleb...” I don’t look away from the black night ahead of me as Fox leans beside me on the crate. “Fox,” I greet. “This is a good thing, you know that, right?” “Feels pretty crappy.” “It will for a while,” he says. “Then, you’ll get over it and life will

return to normal.” Normal. I’ve been out here for so long, I’m not even sure what that means anymore. I turn to look at him. “And what about you?” I ask. “I’ll be fine—” “I don’t like these new people, Fox. I think Boxcar is right. They can’t be trusted.” He grins. “Well, that’s progress.” “What’s progress?” “You trusting Box.” I scoff. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” “Just…” he lays a hand on my shoulder, “do me a favor, all right?” “What?” “Don’t go home. Go somewhere

you’ve never been before. Do something you’d never thought you’d do.” “Why?” “Because it’s good for you,” he chuckles. “And later, when I get back, drinks are on me and you can tell me all about it. Also… cut Boxcar some slack. He did the right thing tonight.” I cringe, remembering that gun to his head. “You should have stopped him,” I argue. Fox sighs. “It was his moment and no matter how much you want to deny it — he earned it. No offense, but it takes a pretty strong patience to get to know you and that little bastard’s built from steel.” I laugh, shaking my head. “I guess that’s not wildly inaccurate.”

“Don’t give up on something that could be great because you’re scared of how it’ll end up,” he continues. “Live in the moment every so often. It might surprise you.” I exhale until my lungs are empty. “All right,” I say. “I’ll try.” “And don’t waste your time worrying about me,” he adds. “I’m coming home, too, it’ll just take longer to get there.” “Promise?” He opens his arms to me and I step closer to return his hug. “I promise.” *** I’ve never been able to sleep the

night before a big change. They tell you that’s when you need the most rest but it’s never worked out that way for me. The night before basic training. The night before the first day of school. Even the night before a big family vacation is restless. My mind just won’t quit churning out thoughts and images to point where I give up completely and stare at the ceiling until dawn and hope for the best. Tonight is no exception. Tomorrow morning, I’m going home. It’s a big change. Life is one way today but tomorrow, it’ll be something else. The only difference now is that the man sleeping in the cot across from mine risked his life to save mine a few hours

ago and I may never get the chance to thank him for it… I may never even have the courage to do it. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since he kissed me. I believe him completely when he says he’d save me again but I’m not sure if I should be thankful or angry. Maybe both. Live in the moment, Fox told me. I could think about this for hours, repeating and dissecting every single syllable I’d mutter at Boxcar in response of his actions but none of it will be as real or satisfying as doing what I really want to do right now. I sit up and glance around the tent. It’s been silent for hours, lumps of sleeping bodies completely still in the

dark, just waiting for morning. My eyes fall on Fox for a moment and I give a quick smile to the best friendship I’ve ever had in my life before looking forward at Boxcar. I stand and tiptoe over to his cot. The pitch blackness gives me little to navigate but my senses hone in on his silent breathing. He instantly stirs as I sit down beside him, flashing open his eyes with a quick boost of adrenaline. “Shh,” I tell him, laying my finger across his mouth. He says nothing but I don’t need him to. I pull his blanket down and slowly ease my way inside of it to lie beside him, constantly glancing around for sleepless eyes. Luckily, no one

moves as I replace the blanket over us. I see Boxcar’s eyes in the darkness, full of confusion and excitement. He waits, holding back as if it’s all just a cruel trick. I slide my finger over his mouth, feeling his warm breath tickle my fingertips. His lips purse against my skin; an unconscious desire surging through him. My hand falls to his chest and lean forward to kiss him as quietly as possible. Boxcar’s hand rises to my face and his trembling fingers burrow into the hair behind my head. I feel his heart pounding like mine; scared of getting caught but not willing to stop either. He embraces me tightly and his hardness

grows against my thigh. My senses burst for him but I can’t let myself give in completely. Not here. Not without getting caught and suffering the consequences. But I know I’ll never sleep unless I feel him one more time. Our lips dance; silent but wild. His tongue passes over my lips and I quiver at his taste against mine. My hand moves down his body and he inhales a sharp breath as my hand slides into his pants. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine while I stroke him, fighting every urge he has to vocalize his pleasure and expose the moment to the world. Boxcar grips my body and eases me

onto my back. My hand slips from his shaft but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he attacks my neck with soft kisses and tastes my skin, driving shivers down my spine. His hands travel south, gliding over my breasts and navel towards my center. I gasp as his hand fishes inside my panties and he lays his other hand against my cheek to remind me to keep quiet. Even in the dark, I can sense that playfulness in him and he takes great pleasure in teasing me. He crushes his lips against mine, tasting me as his fingers caress my clit. I grip his body and dig my nails into his skin but it does nothing to dissuade him. My throat tightens, wanting so badly to moan but I hold it closed, even as his

mouth falls to my neck and teases the sensitive skin beneath my ear. My resolve sways as pleasure builds with each quick rub he gives me. Just when I think I’ll burst, Boxcar slides his hand out and grips my pants with both hands. He pauses, fighting the urge to take me, and silently asks me with his fearless eyes. My mind tells me to say no — to stop this before it goes too far — but my body won’t abide that. I kiss him softly, fighting to breathe in the hot, desert heat, and reach down to slide his pants down below his ass. He kisses me back with open eyes and they scan the quiet barracks as we push my pants to my ankles.

I open my knees to him and Boxcar settles between them, moving so slowly it drives me crazy but I know even one open eye will tear this down. He pins me to his cot and I feel his hard girth sliding between my folds. I bite my lip as he exhales against my neck, fighting his passion while thrusting inside of me. My mouth opens, silently screaming his name, begging to be fucked the way his eyes tell me he wants to fuck me. The cot creaks beneath us and we freeze with our lips gently caressing. I look around, begging for just one more moment of this bliss, and thankfully, no one stirs. Boxcar’s lips curl against mine and he kisses me to keep me quiet as he tests the waters, sliding his hard cock

out only to pump me once. My heart thumps wildly and I clench my closed jaw. I hold him against me and he breathes rapidly while his slow, steady thrusts drive both of us insane. Harder, faster. I want so much more of him but I can’t have it. Pleasure aches in my sex, slowly building inside, but I keep still, fighting the urge to meet every buck of his hips. He shifts into a grind along my pelvis and my clit throbs, surging waves of sweet thrills throughout my body. A squeak escapes my throat. Boxcar lays his hand over my mouth but he doesn’t stop. He stares into my eyes while his cock owns me from head to toe. His finger slips between my lips and

I taste his skin, biting softly against his knuckle instead of moaning. Boxcar takes the pain with a smile and lays more soft kisses on me while masterfully grinding his hips. Climax takes hold of me and a soft chuckle teases him. His hand presses harder against my mouth. He wraps his other arm around me and stops thrusting as fire shoots through me and my entire body bleeds in ecstasy. Hot air shoots through my nose. I know I’d barely be able to control myself if it weren’t for Boxcar’s strong grip on me. Finally, the wave falls and I lay my hand on his, sliding it slowly away from my mouth to signal my control. His hand shifts downward to cup my breast and he

kisses me again, firm and true. Then his hips move and I sigh softly, feeling his stiff grind inside of me again. He buries his face in my shoulder, focusing his attentions on his own pleasures and I let him take me as he wants. Still silent, still slow, but just as passionate as ever. He swells inside of me and I wince at the threat of his teeth etching a line in my skin as his body goes tense with orgasm. Boxcar pulls out of me and his tip splashes along my navel, warm and wet. I cup his face and bring his lips to mine to taste his heaving breath and to feel the desire leaving him. He balances above me on quivering arms and smiles at me with playful eyes, returning each of my

kisses as we both hold back the laughter in our throats. We lie together until my pulse returns to normal and my toes don’t feel as numb. I feel in the dark for my pants and slip them back on as Boxcar pulls his up. He reaches out before I stand and draws me in for one last kiss full of passion and warmth. I smile, feeling just as much ache for him as he does for me. My skin grows cold the second his touch drops from me. Not even the desert heat keeps my skin from shivering as I lie back down on my own cot and pull the blanket over me. I look out across the tent, sensing Boxcar’s deep green eyes on me in the dark, and a

happiness grows inside of me; one I’ve never felt before in my life. I think for a moment, wondering if anything in the world can bring this down. Then I look around again at the empty cots of my unit and I remember where I am. *** I sit up in my cot and dread immediately seeps inside of me. Just yesterday, I had my team’s blood on my hands and today, I’m going home. I always thought I’d feel differently about it. I thought I’d feel happier but I something feels out of place, like a puzzle piece that just won’t

fit right until you realize you’ve got it in backwards. I look straight ahead at Boxcar’s cot. He’s still inside of it, sleeping quietly. My lips twitch, along with the rest of me at the memory of last night. My eyes wander to Fox’s cot next to mine and I pause. It’s as empty as Rogers’ and West’s. Usually, it only takes a hiccup to wake me but I must have slept through him tying off his boots. I throw on my BDUs and step outside into the desert sun. It’s somehow more harsh than usual and each breath feels less satisfying than the last. I scan the camp for Fox’s face but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Fawn!” Paxton waves me towards the command tent and I slip inside. The men he brought with him sit around the tent, each one of them staring me down as I scan their hard faces. “Yes, sir?” “Chopper leaves in an hour,” he barks, chewing on the end of a pencil. “You and Carson better be on it.” I nod. “Absolutely, sir. We will be.” “Good.” He waves me off and bends down to sift through a stack of paperwork on the corner desk. I linger for a moment more. “Sir, I’d like to speak with Fox before I go. Do you know where he is?” “Who?”

“Fitzpatrick, sir.” Paxton pauses and stands up taller. “Oh, him,” he says, sliding the pen out from between his teeth. “Fitzpatrick was transferred out this morning.” “Where?” I ask, my skin crawling with confusion. He hesitates, furrowing his brow so a shadow casts over his eyes. “Doesn’t matter anymore,” he mutters. “Damn plane went down over Iraq. He’s gone.” My heart sinks. His tone is so cold, so impersonal, like he just lost a pawn on a chessboard. “Excuse me?” He glances up and his eyes glide over me. “I said Fitzpatrick is gone,” he repeats with annoyance. “Shot down. No survivors.”

My senses cease and for a long moment, I can’t feel anything. No desert heat. No sounds. No scents. Just the blinding, white lights of rage filling my vision. “That’s not possible,” I finally say, refusing to believe it. I just saw him. He was here last night. I spoke to him. He can’t be gone. Paxton laughs and my hands roll into fists. “No, honey,” he spits, “that’s reality. Now get out of here. I don’t have time to hold your hand after every broken nail.” I lunge forward and I hear the shouts of others echo in my ears as I wrap my fingers around Paxton’s throat. His eyes grow wide with surprise and every bit of amusement drains from them

as I squeeze. “Fawn! Let go!” They tug at me but I hold on tighter as my heart breaks into small pieces. Fox. The only friend I have in the world and this fucker tells me like this? They finally yank me back and I raise my hands, surrendering to the strength of three men. They pull me away from him and Paxton’s fucking grin returns to his face. “You’re lucky you’re out of here today, Fawn,” he smirks. “If you weren’t, I’d have to make quite the example out of you.” His eyes slide down my body and it’s easy to read the meaning dripping off his words. I jerk my arms free from their grasp

and spin away from him to leave the tent. A small crowd gathered behind us and I push through them, driven to distance myself as far away from this moment as possible. “Caleb?” I pause near the barracks, completely blanking on how I got here in the first place. Boxcar reaches out for me and he studies my face, cupping it softly to hold it up. “Whoa—” He looks over my shoulder at the dispersing crowd across the camp. “What’s going on?” I try to look him in the eyes but everything feels so heavy. Tears push through my throat, breaking through every attempt I make to hold them down.

“Fox…” I whisper. Boxcar pulls me out of the sun and guides me back into the barracks. “Caleb, what happened?” he asks. He stops us and holds my face again. “Look at me.” His face blurs. My gaze wanders over his shoulder, landing directly on Fox’s empty cot. “Fox is gone…” I say it so softly even I can barely hear it. It only takes a moment for Boxcar’s eyes to shift away from confusion. He pulls me closer, tightening his embrace around me without a care for what it might mean to others. “It’s going to be okay, Caleb,” he whispers, his words stiff but powerful. I shake my head, rejecting the very

thought. “He…” My voice fails and I choke as tears fall from my eyes. My knees give under me and Boxcar holds me tighter to guide me down to the floor. I cry into his chest and he repeats his words softly in my ear. “It’s going to be okay, Caleb.” Maybe someday I’ll believe that.

Chapter 19 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day If pissing off Caleb Fawn were an Olympic event, I’d take home gold every single time. Naturally, when it came time to do it on purpose, things went exactly as expected. So much so, in fact, that I can barely even hide the victory smile attacking my lips. I look down at her in my arms. She

stares straight ahead out the windshield, watching as we roll closer and closer to Fox’s house. I nudge her chin to bring her face up to mine. The bright street lights pass by the windows, illuminating her already stunning face with orange light and they do the same to mine. There’s a quiet anger behind her eyes, obviously, but I flash her my token, cocky smile; a hidden smirk made just for her. Caleb blinks at me with suspicion then her face finally falls and she gives me that look. What the hell did you do? I tighten my arm around her and brush my lips against her forehead. She looks up at me now with pride,

annoyance, and a bit of fear. I don’t blame her at all. Obviously, I have a plan. She’s gathered that much from my silent eyes but she has no idea what that plan entails other than giving up the secret location of our most trusted ally. Not the greatest of starts. Then again, if Caleb and I were to adopt a motto — that’d be it. Lilah stops the car in front of the black gate outside of Fox and Dani’s Hollywood mansion. She fires me a look through the rearview mirror and I give Caleb’s hand a decent squeeze before I get out to open it. The sun sits just below the horizon and I blink for a moment when I realize the time. At this time yesterday, I was

imagining a very, very different plans for my weekend. In the last twenty hours I’ve stolen a quarter of a million dollars from a billionaire pervert, ran away from two assassins, flew across the country, banged my estranged wife, broke into my friend’s house, befriended a bounty hunter, avoided torture, and I’ve done it all with little on my stomach other than cheap airline pretzels and imported booze. Needless to say, my plans don’t usually go as anticipated. Let’s hope this is the one that sticks. I open the black gate and Lilah rolls the car inside, leaving me here to walk the rest of the driveway alone. I close the gate and scan the street outside, eying

the other houselights on the street. Sure, strangers should mind their own business but a suspicious, prying eye might come in handy right now. I pick up my pace and make it to the car as Lilah and Elijah slowly ease up the front steps. “What’s the code?” Lilah asks, gazing at me over her shoulder. I throw open the back door to gather Caleb and hide any tells that might give me away. “Uh… one-twotwo-four-zero-eight.” Caleb manages to push herself up out of the car with some of her own strength and I breathe of sigh of relief knowing that whatever the hell Elijah did to her wasn’t permanent. If this plan

goes south, I may need her to back me up. She grips my jacket to keep steady and we spin around to find the twins staring at us from their spot on the stoop. “What?” I ask. “That code doesn’t work,” Lilah says. “It doesn’t?” She rolls her eyes. “No.” Caleb and I walk slowly up the stairs and I tap the numbers in myself. The panel flashes a crimson red and I furrow my brow. “One-two-two-fourzero-eight,” I say aloud as my finger taps it in slowly. Again, the panel flashes red. Elijah snatches my hand before I can type it again. “This panel wouldn’t happen to have an alarm function for

multiple failures, would it?” Dammit. I pause. “Of course not.” Lilah’s gun taps my cheek. “How about you get it right this time… just in case,” she warns. “It’s zero-seven,” Caleb says. I look down at her, still playing dumb. “Is it?” I ask. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” Lilah pokes my cheek a little harder. “I swear to God, I will shoot one of you.” “Okay, okay—” I tap the numbers into the pad. “One-two-two-four-zeroseven.” The panel shines green and the door

clicks unlocked. “Told you,” Caleb gloats. I flash her a smile and adjust my arm around her to hold her close as we step inside the house. Elijah flicks on the first light switch, illuminating the dark entryway, along with the foyer and front hallway. Caleb stays quiet as her eyes jut around, noticing the extreme lack of Dani’s presence on anything. The movie posters are gone, along with the picture frames that once littered the end tables. “This is Fox’s house?” Lilah asks. “Yep,” I answer. I lead them through to the living room and I let Caleb slip down onto the sofa next to a few throw pillows stacked by the arm.

Lilah pauses at the photo of us in the desert and she shrugs. “Seems a little strange for his tastes…” “That would be the point, wouldn’t it?” I ask. “Why hide in the shadows when no one will expect you out in the open? Plus, it’s big and nice —” I pat the pillow next to Caleb’s shoulder. “Perfect for special occasions.” Her eyes flick up at me and I flash a smooth smile, letting my hand linger a little longer on the pillow before I step away. I watch her slink closer to the pillows but she does nothing to draw any attention to herself as she inches her hand beneath them. “Well…” Lilah lets out a thick sigh. “If this is Fox Fitzpatrick’s house, then

where is Fox?” I shrug. “Upstairs, probably.” “And he didn’t come running when his front door opened?” Elijah asks. Lilah’s nose turns upward, no doubt smelling the exact same suspicious air. “It’s a big house,” I say. “I’m sure Caleb comes and goes all the time, right? He’s used to it.” Elijah eyes Caleb for a confirmation and she nods from the couch. “Well, how about you and Lilah go get him…” He steps closer to Caleb and plants the barrel of his gun against her head. “And I’ll stay here with her.” Rage tickles at me. Caleb with a gun to her head has never been my favorite sight in the world but I have to

keep my cool. I look at her and she gives me the most subtle of nods. “All right.” I gesture for Lilah to follow me. “Let’s go get Fox.” I head towards the stairwell, training my ears to pinpoint Archer’s location. Any creak in the floorboards would be great right now but this house is way too perfect for any flaw. Even the stairs make no noise as Lilah and I walk up them. She pokes her gun into my side, just to remind me it’s there. “Hey, Fox!” I announce as we reach the landing. I realize how unfamiliar I am with the layout of the place. I could go left or right but each direction gives me about a half dozen options for doors. Lilah digs her gun in a little deeper,

forcing me to choose left. “Fox?” I ask again. We keep walking and I push open the first door to peek inside. As we pass, I feel a shadow brush through the open doorway. “Hey, buddy.” I bite my lip to keep from grinning at Archer’s horribly disguised voice and turn around to see a shotgun nestled against Lilah’s red head. “Is that the best American accent you can do?” I ask. Archer shrugs. “Sounded good in my head, mate.” He looks at Lilah. “Hands up.” She slowly raises her hands, presenting her palms forward with a

look of inconvenience crossing her face. “Who the hell are you?” “Archer Allen,” he grins with pride. She scoffs. “What kind of name is that?” His lips fall. “Give Sparky your gun.” “Sparky?” I hold out my hand. “Just do it.” She exhales hard and drops it into my open palm as Archer clicks a handcuff onto her wrist. He attaches the other cuff to himself, latching the two of them together. She eyes him for a moment before rolling them into the back of her skull. “Oh, you’re that Archer Allen…”

He tilts his head. “You’ve heard of me, love?” “Don’t get cocky,” she quips. “Your record is far from impressive.” “It’s about to get a whole lot better.” Her lips curl. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” She lashes out, striking his jaw with a hard punch while simultaneously kicking my shin, bringing me down to my knees. Another quick jut of her heel knocks the gun from my grasp and she twirls around Archer, gaining enough momentum to strike him with a hard backhand. Archer drops his shotgun to block the blow, grabbing her fist in his palm

just inches away from his face. Lilah punches with her free hand but he snatches that as well. He draws her closer, so close her face is only an inch from his. “Now, that’s enough, love—” Lilah head butts him and she slides free of him long enough to boost off the wall and slam her fist against his face. He tumbles to his knees and Lilah uses the moment to reach into her pocket. I see the bobby pin in her hand. “Archer, the cuffs!” She moves with trained, expert precision and slips her hand free of the picked cuff before I can even reach the gun and point it at her again. I lunge forward to stop her but she swings around, connecting her hard

elbow against my nose. A haze of white light strikes my vision, blinding me while Lilah trips me down to the floor. Then I feel the hard metal ring clack around my wrist. I try to tug away but I pause, realizing she’s just bound Archer and me together in cuffs. Archer sits up with wide eyes and watches as she looks back over her shoulder and flashes him a wink before bolting back down the stairs. “My god…” he whispers. “She’s amazing.” I try to slip my wrist free in a blind panic. “Keys, Archer!” He jolts back and fishes into his pockets. “Right—”

I leap onto my feet and grab the two guns off the floor as we go. We race for the stairs together while Archer tries to unlock us. My heart pounds in my chest, aching from failure as I try not to imagine what they’re doing to Caleb right now. We reach the bottom and the cuff slides free of my wrist. “Boxcar—” Caleb’s voice brings me to a standstill. She’s still on the couch. Her chest rises up and down, steady but nervous. Elijah points his gun forward at us and Lilah stands behind Caleb with a long pocket knife against her throat. I pass Archer’s shotgun back to him, along with Lilah’s handgun. “Don’t

you dare hurt her,” I warn. “Not bad, Sparky,” Lilah says, “but your plan was a little sloppy.” “Where is Fox really?” Elijah asks. “He’s not here right now,” I answer. “Obviously,” Lilah growls, digging the knife deeper against Caleb’s neck. I shudder. “You don’t want to do that.” “I kind of do actually. I really don’t like people wasting my time…” Archer takes a short step closer and pumps his shotgun. “Neither do I,” he says. He gestures between them. “So, how about you drop the knife — you drop the gun — and the two of you come with me.”

Elijah furrows his brow. “Who the hell is this?” “Bounty hunter,” Lilah mutters under her breath. He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Oh.” Archer steps forward again. “Oh?” Elijah lays his finger over his trigger. “That’s close enough,” he says. I reach out and lay my hand on Archer’s arm but my eyes never leave Caleb’s. She looks so confident, even now; even with a knife to her throat and a gun inches away from her head. My warrior woman. Her eyes twitch towards the couch, silently signaling at me to take cover as she pulls her hand free and the revolver

flashes in the light. Caleb pulls the trigger, firing one shot at random to take the twins by surprise. Lilah ducks behind the sofa, withdrawing her knife and Caleb rolls forward onto the floor. I grab Archer and pull him down with me to safety as Elijah fires several rounds in our direction before pointing the gun down towards the floor, directly at my wife. “Caleb!” I cry, watching in slow motion as she raises her revolver and fires a shot at Elijah first. He backs away in time and the bullet strikes the wall behind his head as he takes cover with Lilah. Caleb can just barely push herself

up but she manages to roll over onto her stomach and slide her revolver across the wood floor towards me. It scratches to a halt a few feet away. “Cover me!” I tell Archer. He nods and peeks out around his chair, pointing his gun at the twin’s hiding place as I roll out and rush towards the gun. Bullets pop loudly from Archer’s gun and the twins keep their head down to avoid it as I grab the revolver off the floor. Adrenaline pounds away in my ears, fueling a bravery I’ve never felt before in my life. The twins could easily get one shot off and I’d be done for. Any moment now could be my last but I won’t let that be true for Caleb Fawn.

I kneel down beside her and she latches onto me as I pull her off the floor. Archer stops to reload and we all pause as the police sirens grow loud outside. Red and blue lights blink, shining through the pale, white curtains. A smile curls my lips. “About time…” I point the revolver towards the chairs and I hold Caleb in my other arm. “By the way… I lied. The door does have an alarm for multiple failures. Usually, it’s more than three in a row but I reprogrammed it so the police were alerted silently after the first failure, so technically you called the cops on yourselves. Kid stuff, really.” Lilah pokes her head out, staring daggers at me

while Elijah does the same. Her eyes flick between my gun and Archer’s. “I’d say you have another minute tops before they come bursting in here, so you have two options. You can get arrested and spend your night trying to explain the cobra tattoos to the L.A.P.D. or you can go with Archer.” Lilah stands up, refusing to back down. “And how do you expect to get out of this without them shooting you?” I shrug. “I’m Fox Fitzpatrick’s best friend. My presence here will get cleared up in about fifteen minutes.” “I’m his best friend,” Caleb argues in my ear. “Not the time, honey.” I hold her closer and steady my grip on the gun.

“Now, what’s it gonna be?” Lilah seethes, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths while Elijah slinks a little further away from Archer’s shotgun. “Remember before when you asked me why him?” Caleb quips, drawing Lilah’s eyes. “This is why.” I smile as the sirens blare from the driveway. The twins stand and Elijah drops his gun on the couch. “Fine,” he says, shifting his eyes towards Archer. “Lead the way.” Archer grins and gestures them to start walking towards the hallway. Then Lilah jerks back, reaching around Elijah to grab the shotgun’s

barrel. Elijah bends over, allowing for Lilah to roll over his back and attack Archer, landing her knee in his groin. He keels over and the shotgun slips from his grasp and into Lilah’s. She points it at us and I twist around to shield Caleb from the inevitable blast as we tumble to the floor. It’s so loud, my ears ring. Feet pound on the floor, passing over us as Lilah and Elijah bolt for the back of the house. “Goddammit—!” Archer pulls himself off the floor and follows them, keeping his head down in case another shotgun blast comes hurtling towards him.

“Caleb—!” I look down, seeing red blood splattered on her jacket beneath me. “Oh, no…” She looks at me with wide eyes. “Boxcar, it’s not me…” I look at my shoulder as the pain reaches my brain. “Oh, wow… that really hurts.” I balance on my other arm as Caleb tries to push my jacket aside to get a better look. “Bloody bastards…” Archer mutters as he pounds back into the room. “They’re gone — out the back.” “He’s been hit,” Caleb says, her voice dripping with fear. She tries to push off the floor but even every bit of her strength can’t get her up. Archer steps forward but I wave

my unwounded arm to stop him. “Go,” I say. “You can’t be here. Run.” He pauses, his eyes falling from me to the blood and back again with hesitation. “Go,” I repeat, gritting my teeth as another bolt of pain strikes my chest. Archer spins around with the shotgun in hand and runs for the back exit as the front door bursts open. Caleb cradles my face, tears shining in her deep, green eyes. I smile through the pain, knowing that she’ll be okay. I saved her. Part of me goes numb and I settle a little harder against the floor. “Boxcar… stay with me.” I feel her warm touch on my skin;

those hands that somehow manage to rough and comforting at the same time. Her voice echoes in my head as black uniforms circle around us. “Boxcar!”

Chapter 20 Caleb Las Vegas Two Years Ago ‘Til death do us part. What the hell was I thinking? I stare out the hotel window from a large armchair, scanning the brightly-lit horizon. It’s nothing but colorful lights for miles but I know come morning, the Las Vegas strip will lose most of its magic. Nothing ever looks as enchanting during the day than it does at night.

My husband stirs in the bed, drawing my eyes away from the dancing lights outside. My husband. Never has a word frightened me as much as that one. He doesn’t wake up. He just slides around beneath the covers for a moment before settling onto his side, lightly gripping the pillow under his head. Husband. Wife. They never meant anything to me before; just titles people threw around because partner sounds so dull and boring. Husband and wife carry a far heavier weight to them, like life or death. Death. Best case scenario, he lives long enough to watch me die. Or I live long enough to watch him die but the former is far more likely. In a perfect

world, that’s the only way out of marriage. He’s already been through enough of that. I’ve already seen my fair share of it. To imagine spending my life with someone only to have them torn away from me as if they never existed — this is what people strive for? This is what poets and novelist spend their days spewing out over and over again like it’s some goddamn beautiful achievement? Boxcar turns onto his other side and his arm stretches out, searching for a warm body that isn’t there. It breaks my heart. I could easily walk over there right now, slide back into the bed, and he’ll feel me. He’ll pull me closer and he’ll smile in his sleep and everything

will go on the way it should be — but that won’t always be the case. Someday — next year or next week or even tomorrow — he’ll reach out and I won’t be there. He’ll wake out of it, sit up, and realize that I’ll never slide back into his bed ever again. I’ll be gone from this world but he’ll still be here, cursed to forever wake up alone as if I never existed at all. Just another casualty in life’s war. It happened to my father. It happened to Fox and the rest of our unit. It’ll happen to me, too. That’s not fair. Boxcar doesn’t deserve that. “Caleb.” I look over at him. He’s propped up on one arm, staring over at me in the

dark with that adorable, boyish smirk and my heart breaks a little more. “What’s wrong?” he asks, reading me like a damn book. The city lights pull me back one more time. The sky bleeds a lighter shade of blue. Dawn must be breaking. I wonder if Fox saw the sunrise one last time before he died. I hope he did. “Caleb?” I glance up. Boxcar stands over me now, shirtless in slacks, with heavy, tired eyes full of love and longing for me and only me. Three blissful, neverending days in a bed together and he still looks at me like he’s never seen me before. But someday…

Chapter 21 Boxcar Las Vegas Two Years Ago Well, that was unexpected. Who am I kidding? This is Caleb Fawn. This wasn’t unexpected at all. It was downright inevitable. I’m not sure why I thought exchanging vows would somehow mean she was ready for commitment. It’s more surprising that it lasted a whole three days before she booted me out of our hotel room.

But we’re married now, so I’m gone but not out. If she needs some time to vent and think, then I’ll give her that time. I don’t mind that at all but eventually, she’ll open her door to me and things will go back to normal until her next attack of conscience. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, these bursts of frustration will happen less and less until they disappear completely. I’ll keep my patience until then. She’s worth it. Until then, I’ll hang out in this hotel room a floor down from hers and wait it out. She’ll come down here, knock on the door, and she’ll smile. I’ll kiss her, she’ll kiss me back, and I’ll carry her to the bed for a bit of tender punishment. If

there’s one thing I know better than myself in this world, it’s Caleb Fawn. A knock strikes the door and a grin spreads over my face. See? I told you. I open the door and pause, looking into the eyes of a pudgy, middle-aged man in a suit. “Bartholomew Carson?” “Yeah,” I answer. He holds out a brown envelope. “You’ve been served.” I let him drop it into my hand and a cold shiver races down my back. Just as quickly as he arrived, he spins around and bolts down the hall towards the elevator without even a glance back over his shoulder. A straight-up fucking

hit and run. I close the door and stare at the envelope for a full minute before opening it and sliding the pages out. PETITION FOR DIVORCE. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. She did it. She actually freakin’ did it. When she told me she never wanted to see my face again, she meant it in every possible way. This is a joke. It has to be a sick prank. Ha-ha, Caleb. Very funny… I scan the pages one-by-one, feeling even more nauseous the more I read. She’s signed them already. Her name in black ink right here. Caleb Fawn. All they need now is my signature and the

best thing that ever happened to me will be like it never happened at all. Fuck that shit. I slide the papers back into the envelope and grab my messenger bag off the floor. If she wants to split up for a while — fine — but I won’t give her the satisfaction of filing these forms and dropping me for good. She can’t do that if I never send them back to her and she can’t force me to give them to her if she doesn’t know where I am. You don’t want to see my face ever again? I’ll make that easy for you, Caleb Fawn. I open the back pocket of my bag and I slide the envelope inside, zipping it tightly closed to hold them there.

Sorry, honey. No divorce today. Looks like you’re stuck with me. My finger slides over a notepad inside the bag and I pause before pulling it out. I sketched it from memory the best I could; that black cobra I saw inked into the chests of those men. The same snake I saw dangling from that pendant around Marilyn Black’s neck. Her mysterious family. Their nonexistent land in Paris. Even the military and this fucking Paxton guy. There’s a bigger picture here but I don’t have enough pieces to put the puzzle together or make any sense out of it. My curiosity grows. I put my jacket on and throw my bag over my shoulder as I leave Las

Vegas for good.

Chapter 22 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day Did Robin Hood ever take an arrow for Maid Marian? I honestly can’t remember. One thing’s for sure, though; being a hero isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Everyone knows getting shot hurts so I knew what to expect but what I never expected was for there to be so much pain from such a tiny graze.

The blast slid across my back, scratching my shoulder in multiple places. If I’d been one second too late… Let’s not think about it. A handful of stitches and the intern who did the needlework was done but my concern was on Caleb the entire time. The doctor who checked her out had no idea what Elijah injected her with. Some kind of homemade tranquillizer, incredibly potent and not exactly legal. Given the rate it’s leaving her system, he thinks she’ll be fine after a good night’s rest in her own bed. I carry her up the stairs to her loft, ignoring the throbbing pain in my back. There aren’t a lot of moments in life when I get to play the cool guy and I’m

not passing up the chance to carry the damsel over the threshold. Caleb reaches out and twists the doorknob for me. The loft is exactly as it was before; a perfect constant to an otherwise chaotic day. I carry her inside and she squeezes my jacket a little tighter as I lower her down onto her bed, no doubt scared I’ll drop her but there’s no way I would. “Try and get some rest, okay?” I tell her, laying her arms at her sides. “You should have your strength back by morning.” “Are you leaving?” she asks quickly. Her eyes shake. It’s clear what she wants the answer to be and it makes my heart grow a little larger.

“No.” I pause to watch the short breath of relief as it passes through her. “I’ll be here…” Caleb shifts onto her side and her hand falls to the sheets beneath her, gently crawling towards me as fast as her weak muscles will allow. Her hand touches mine and she smiles back at me. “It’s going to be okay, Caleb,” I whisper. I lean forward to raise her head and adjust the pillow to a better position beneath her neck. “I’ll be back.” She nods, trusting every word. “Thank you.” I let her touch linger on my skin for a few more moments before I make myself stand up. There’s nothing I want more than to lie next to her right now but

there’s the small matter of the very disappointed bounty hunter lingering around in the hallway to deal with. Archer stands outside the door, leaning against the wall with Lilah’s discarded pistol in one hand. He admires it briefly before glancing up at me with hard eyes and sliding it into his belt. “You didn’t tell me this friend of yours was Fox Fitzpatrick, mate,” he says. I close the door behind me. “It wasn’t relevant.” “Like hell it wasn’t.” He pushes softly off the wall. “Do you have any idea how much his head is worth to the right people? Had I known he was here, I certainly wouldn’t have wasted my

time chasing after Hansel and Gretel.” “He’s not a part of this,” I say, keeping a steady tone. “Leave him alone.” “And why the hell would I do that?” “Because I will make your life a living hell if you don’t, that’s why.” His lips curl. “And just how do you intend—” “Archer Allen. Former MI-6 agent,” I begin. “You were dismissed for reasons unknown but I’m sure I could crack those files wide open within the hour but on the off-chance that won’t do any damage to you, I’ll just focus on the very expired visa you’re traveling on U.S. soil with and go from there. Can’t

exactly cash in on bounties if you’re thirty-thousand feet in the air on your way back to Teabag Land. Or if that’s not enough — just give me about twenty minutes. Everyone has a skeleton or two. I’m sure you have at least one worth digging up.” Archer chuckles. “All right…” he sighs. “I will look the other way on Fitzpatrick — but how about we say you owe me a favor someday?” “I can live with that.” “But I will say this… I don’t envy your friend. It’s not just the Harts out there looking for retribution against Fox Fitzpatrick.” “Who?” He lowers his voice. “No one

knows her name. Only a few know her face but everyone knows what she does.” There’s only two words I can think of that carry that kind of ominous fear. “The Boss.” “You might want to let him know.” I nod. “I will.” Archer leans back again, flashing a look of expectation. “I held up my part of the bargain. Now, where can I find Dante Hart?” I reach into my bag for a notepad. “Wisconsin,” I answer. His brow shrinks. “What?” “His childhood home is on Geneva Lake.” I scribble the address down from memory and tear off the sheet to hand it

to him. Archer takes it from me and stares at it for a moment. “I have to ask — how do you know this?” I crack a smile, smug as hell. “Library card.” He stares at me with confusion. “The Walworth County Library burned down in 1992,” I explain. “Only about half of the physical records were salvaged and transferred to the library the next county over — including the membership information of their grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Hart.” He blinks. “Bloody hell…” “The card was never officially used but her name still pops up in their member database, along with their home address. Geneva Lake, Wisconsin.

Given the trouble Dante and the twins went to erase the place from record, I’d say he’s probably there now.” Archer folds the paper in half and shoves it into his jacket pocket. “Well, I’m impressed, Sparky,” he says. “You’d make quite the private dick, if you wanted to.” “Thought about it,” I say, “but I look stupid in hats.” He laughs and pulls out his wallet. “Still… you ever find yourself looking for a job in hunting — give me a call.” His fingers flick towards me, squeezing a black business card between his fingertips. I take it from him and slide it into my bag. “Maybe I will.”

His grin stays on his face as he turns to take the stairs down. “Be seeing you, mate.” “Be seeing you,” I repeat, watching him closely until his shadow disappears out the door and it clicks closed behind him. Caleb is asleep by the time I get back inside. I bolt the door behind me and slide the chain in place, feeling more than a little overprotective. Nothing lurches my heart more than seeing her this vulnerable. She’ll be back to her normal self by morning and she won’t need me anymore. She has never needed me, honestly, but it’s never been a goal of mine to make her either. Want, on the other hand. If I could

figure out how to make her want me, then all of my problems would be solved overnight. I set my messenger bag down on the counter and my eyes drift over to her again. Caleb Fawn. I’ve never in my life wanted anything more than I want her. I spent days in a warehouse, praying for water and I can safely say I didn’t want it to rain out in the fucking desert as much as I want Caleb Fawn in my life. But none of that matters if she doesn’t feel the same way. I reach into my bag and slide the brown envelope out. It’s been almost two years since I stuffed it into the back pocket and swore I’d forget it ever

existed, but it always lingered in the corners of my mind like an awkward growing pain. I pull the papers out and lay them on the counter in front of me. She signed them and sent them over to me before the ink was even dry. Her signature even has a slight smear to it on every page, like she just couldn’t wait to get it over with. I grab a pen from my bag and I sign each one. I don’t want to. I never did but I can’t force her to stay with me if she doesn’t want to be with me. I could slip out right now and spend the next two years avoiding her again. We’d still be lawfully wedded but we wouldn’t be married like I want to be. I slide the papers back in the

envelope and I leave it on the counter for her. I told her I’d stay and I will. If tonight’s the last time I’ll get to feel her next to me then I won’t miss it. I kick off my shoes and lie down beside her. She rolls over as I do it and lays her head on my shoulder. Her hair brushes my nose. Her hand falls to my chest. Her toes swipe against mine. A few short hours of this bliss and I’ll leave. Hopefully, by the end of it, I’ll be strong enough to let her go.

Chapter 23 Caleb Los Angeles Present Day Ugh. My fucking head. I swear to god — if I ever stumble upon Elijah fucking Hart again, I’m going to punch him in the face. Seriously. How a full-body tranquilizer manages to make me feel like Nurse Ratchet sawed into my head and scooped out my brain using her fingers, I’ll never know. I head straight for the bathroom for

a bottle of aspirin, refusing to even turn on any lights along the way. It’s like the world’s worst hangover and if the nausea in my stomach tells me anything, it’s about to be one of those hangovers. My dry tongue rejects the handful of pills I shove inside. I try to gather some spit to swallow them down but it’s like sandpaper in my mouth. I stumble through the loft with halfopen eyes and navigate the kitchen to find an empty glass. I pause and look around the abandoned room. “Boxcar?” He was here last night. I remember his arm around me and his warm body pressed against mine. Mostly, I remember not even questioning it like it

was always meant to be that way. I fill the glass with water and choke down the pills lodged beneath my tongue. “Boxcar?” I ask again, instantly regretting the volume in which I chose to shout it. There’s no answer, which obviously means he’s gone. No surprises there. Our last moment in this place before last night wasn’t exactly a happy one. I said fuck you and he replied with I love you and I didn’t do a thing to reciprocate no matter what my heart told me. My emotions take a swift turn towards annoyance and then my eyes fall on the brown envelope sitting on the

counter. It takes me a moment, thoughts fighting together in my brain to come out over the splurge of pain and misery, but eventually, I remember what they are. I remember everything. The envelope is a bit crinkled but it’s the exact same one I touched two years ago. When I never got a response from Boxcar concerning our divorce, I assumed he torched the documents and ran off. I never for a second thought that he actually kept them. He dodged my communications for two months after that and eventually I stopped trying, especially when he made tracking him down damn near impossible. I open the envelope and I slide the

papers out. This moment has drifted through my head many times over the last two years. I imagined how relieved I’d feel for it to be over and done with; for Boxcar to go on living without the constant threat of my death lingering over him. Now that the moment is here, I stare down at my old signature and his next to it and a cold darkness strikes my chest. Bartholomew Carson. My exhusband. I never thought I’d be anyone’s wife. I’m not even sure I ever wanted to be. Sure, I’ve had boyfriends but they all eventually bailed. I was too emasculating or I didn’t wear the right kind of make-up or my hobbies were

strange. They all found something in me they didn’t like. Except Boxcar. I thought our differences made us weaker but in the end, they had the opposite effect. When I think of us together, it’s not the moments of anger or frustration that stand out anymore; it’s the good, tender moments that do. The way he always caressed my face before a kiss or the gentleness in his voice, even when what he was saying was harsh or blunt. And now, he gives me this. The thing I’ve wanted for two years. It’s the last thing he wanted but he made that sacrifice anyway — along with taking that bullet for me. He didn’t have to do

that and just like that night in Afghanistan when he plowed into that warehouse to save me, I feel an overwhelming urge to smack him for it. I shove the forms into the envelope and drop it back onto the counter.

Chapter 24 Boxcar Los Angeles Present Day I drop the last of the overpriced, outside cameras in the garbage sack and toss the thing over my shoulder. Designing the ultimate home security system for a beautiful Hollywood actress and her live-in bodyguard is a dirty job but there’s no one out there more qualified than me. I also owe him — a lot — so I won’t be charging him a

dime for my time. Not that I would anyway. The challenge is, honestly, the most fun I’ve had in ages outside of the twenty minutes I spent in Caleb’s bed yesterday. As I step back inside the house, the soft murmuring of voices pulls me towards the kitchen where I find Fox and Dani bent over the counter, facing each other with serious, somber expressions. Dani’s short, black hair falls over her face, casting deep shadows of doubt across her perfect, pale skin. That plastic surgeon did a bang-up job fixing up the Gash Seen Around the World. You can’t even see it unless you’re really looking for it, unlike Fox’s identical scar on his freshly-shaven face. I guess Dani

made him drop the beard but he looks far more handsome without it, if you ask me. I drop the sack to the floor near the garbage can and Fox looks down to catch what’s inside. He sighs. “Seriously?” “Dude—” I shake my head and slide onto the stool by the counter. “Trust me.” He and Dani share a nervous glance, she looking far more fearful than Fox. “Guys, I have this completely under control.” I open my laptop. “The system I’m custom-building here is going to be amazing. I did the same thing to my own place in Boston.” “You owned a 4.3 million dollar house in Boston?” Dani asks. “No, an apartment near—” I blink.

“Is that how much this place costs? Good for you.” She sighs loudly and stares across the counter at Fox. “Let’s just…” He waves a hand to try and calm her down. “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt before we make any calls.” “Calls?” I ask. “What calls?” He scratches nervously at the scar on his cheek. “We’re a little concerned…” “About what?” “About the assassins that know where we sleep, Boxcar.” “Pfft! Don’t be. They only know where you sleep. I made sure that they wouldn’t know Dani lives here. And

besides, those two are going to be very busy for a while. I have a bounty hunter tracking them down as we speak.” “There’s also a bounty hunter who knows where I live,” Fox argues. “On all counts, we should probably move.” “Okay—” I close my laptop to give them my undivided attention. “No one is moving anywhere. Look—” I gesture behind me at the kitchen table where I’ve stacked boxes upon boxes of new tech I bought on my little shopping spree this morning. “I’ve got new, non-shitty cameras to install in every room of this glorious mansion and in every corner of that perfect, green lawn of yours. Noise sensors, pressure sensitivity plates, booby-traps — the works.”

Fox smirks. “And on what sleazy politician’s dime?” I pause. “I’m going to plead the fifth on that one — but it doesn’t matter. Just consider it a generous donation or… hush money, if you will.” Dani’s little eyes grow wider with concern. “I’ll call the real estate agent,” she says at Fox. “No one’s calling the real estate agent!” I chuckle. “Trust me, guys. When I’m done here, this place will be an impenetrable fortress.” The front door opens and a voice echoes in from the front hall. “Hello?” Fox glares at me as it closes and shoes tap down the hall towards us. “I said, when I’m done,” I repeat.

Caleb steps into the kitchen and I point at the doorway. “It’s just Caleb. She’s mostly harmless.” She gestures over her shoulder. “Did you guys know your front gate is wide open?” I flinch. “Okay, that was my bad. Sorry.” “I’ll go close it,” Fox says, his voice dry as sand. “Then maybe I’ll get started patching up the bullet holes riddled throughout my living room.” “Hey — I took a bullet in your house and I didn’t sue you,” I joke. “You should be thankful.” “It was a graze.” “Pfft, like anyone here has had worse,” I challenge. Fox gestures at

Dani with his eyes and I swallow hard. “Oh, right. Sorry.” To her credit, Dani smiles. “It’s okay.” As Fox passes Caleb, he flashes a quick smile at her and the two of them exchange a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Caleb.” “Hey, Fox,” she says. She cranes her neck and calls over her shoulder. “Did you bring me back something Japanese?” “I might have.” “Hey, Caleb,” Dani greets. “Hey, Dani.” Caleb pauses near me and I notice the brown envelope in her hand as she lays it on the counter near my laptop. “Mostly harmless?” she asks

me. “I stand by my phrasing,” I defend. Dani clears her little throat and twists away with a smile. “I’m going to go help him,” she says, her eyes jolting between us with a knowing glimmer. “Bye, Dani,” I say. She takes off and I wait until her echoing feet disappear out the front door. “Okay — she is fucking adorable.” “I know, right?” Caleb says. “I didn’t even know the human race was capable of imbuing that much cuteness into one living being.” She chuckles. “I think she’s already taken, Box.” “Story of my life.” I shake my head. “Eh, that’s not really my type, anyway.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.” “Let me know when you figure it out.” My eyes fall down her body. “You feeling okay?” “Not too bad,” she says. “No side effects to speak of other than a massive headache but a few tequila shots on the way over here did wonders for that.” “Good,” I chuckle. Her eyes graze my shoulder. “You?” I point at it, acting cool. “What? This? It was nothing—” She reaches out and flicks my shoulder with her finger, shooting a sharp pain across my back. I hold back my wince. “Okay — that was just mean.” She chuckles. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I look into her green eyes and the pain disappears. “How did you know I was here?” “Where else would you be?” “Decent point.” She puts her fingers on the envelope and slides it a little closer to me to change the subject. “So, you kept these.” “I did.” “Why?” “Hardcore masochism.” Her lips twitch. “Box.” “It…” I give a half shrug. “It never really occurred to me to destroy them.” She stares at me and I see her running the words through every bullshit detector she has. “Is that true?”

“It’s half-true,” I say. “I don’t know. I guess it was the only thing I had that reminded me of our marriage — as brief and tumultuous as it was. We didn’t exactly exchange rings.” Caleb stares back at me in silent pause and for the first time, I can’t figure out what direction the wheels are turning in her head. “Boxcar…” She wets her lips, hesitating on her words. “I—” “Wait—” I hold up a hand and rise off the stool. “Before you do that thing I know you’re about to do, I need to say something first.” She goes quiet and I shift a little closer to her. “I’ve spent the last two years running from you because I didn’t want to lose you — and yes, I know that makes absolutely no logical

sense, but that’s the truth. That wasn’t fair to you and what you wanted and I’m sorry.” I push the envelope over to her. “No more wargames, Caleb Fawn. I love you. I always have — ever since the moment I saw you and it didn’t have anything to do with the wild hallucinations brought on by extreme dehydration and heat exposure.” She chuckles softly and my heart swells. “You’re it for me… but I get it if that doesn’t go both ways and I’m prepared to let you go if that’s what you want.” Her eyes fall to the envelope for a brief moment. “Is that all?” she asks, red flooding her cheeks. “Yeah,” I smile and shift a half step back. “Go ahead then. Lay it on me.”

She pauses as her lips curl. “Well… before that sudden interruption, I was going to say…” She swipes the envelope off the counter, sliding it fast out from under my fingers. “I love you.” Fire shoots down my spine. The Lword. Caleb Fawn just said the actual Lword and she said it to me. “But…?” She smiles wider. “I love you, Boxcar, and it has nothing to do with how badass you looked holding my revolver, though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on a little bit.” I laugh. “Okay…” I take an unsteady breath. “So, what does that mean?” “It means that you went really above and beyond for me. You could

easily have ignored that call they made and ditched me but you didn’t. The man that does that deserves a heck of a lot more than a second chance.” “You might be right.” “But…” I deflate. “So close…” She chuckles. “But the ball — ultimately — lies in your court, Box. It’s up to you to decide whether or not a woman like me deserves a second or a third or even a fourth chance.” There’s a lack of confidence in her voice as if I’m about to reject her outright and kick her to the proverbial curb. It keeps a laugh permanently bouncing at the back of my throat. To even think that I’m capable of rejecting

her is downright ludicrous. “Is that even a question?” “I could rephrase it as one.” “Don’t bother. I wouldn’t be here now if every high and low with you wasn’t worth it, Cal.” “You’re quite the glutton for punishment, Box.” “Your bite has always tickled a little,” I joke. “Well, you know where I stand. What say you, Caleb Fawn? Will you stay my wife?” Her fingers grip the envelope a little tighter as she scans the floor. She bends down and grabs the garbage bag full of shitty cameras by my feet and tosses the papers inside. “I think I will.” “Yeah?” I grip the counter behind

me to keep from falling over. “Yeah.” I force a nonchalant shrug through my shoulders. “Cool.” Caleb laughs and leans forward, filling my nose with that oh-so-familiar flowery scent of her. As her lips press softly against mine, she lays her palms on my chest and she smiles as my heart bashes wildly against my ribs. I cup her adorable face and steal another firm kiss off her perfect, pink lips before I glance down at the garbage bag again. “But we should probably shred those.” “I know,” she chuckles. “It was more of a symbolic gesture.” “Gotcha.”

I pull her back in and her fingers crawl around my back as I crush my lips against hers. My senses ignite, breathing a heavy fire through my lungs with every soft caress of her mouth on mine. Caleb Fawn. My beautiful wife — for real this time. “Ah, jeez…” We pull away from each other and Fox shakes his head from the doorway. Dani lingers behind him with bright, red cheeks. “Sorry, Fox,” Caleb laughs, wiping her mouth. He steps in and makes his way towards the refrigerator. “No — it’s okay,” he sighs. “It’s like being back in Afghanistan again. In fact…” He pulls it

open and fishes out three bottles of beer from the door. “This is the first time since then that the three of us have been in the same room together and I think that deserves a moment.” Fox pops the bottles open and slides two across the counter towards us, taking the third one for himself. Caleb spins towards the refrigerator and grabs a fourth bottle. “With honorable mention to Dani, of course…” Dani shakes her head from the doorway. “I wasn’t even there.” Caleb gestures her over. “With the amount Fox talked about you — yes, you were.” “I’ll agree with that,” I laugh.

Dani’s grin spreads across her face and Fox’s head falls. “Is that so?” She steps forward and takes the bottle from Caleb. Fox sighs. “I admit nothing.” Dani nudges his ribs and he slides one arm around her petite shoulders before planting a quick peck on her forehead. My eyes shift between the three of them and my memories take me back to the place I never wanted to go again. “I fucking hate sand,” I say. Fox and Caleb give nods of agreement as the three of us bring our bottles together, clinking them once before we each take a drink. “Does that mean you won’t be sticking around the golden coast?” he

asks me. I shrug. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that just yet. There’s still plenty of work to do out here.” “Like what?” I glare at Caleb. “For starters, I’m going to upgrade that atrocious security system you have in your shop.” She scoffs. “If I even have a shop anymore…” “I’m going to fix that problem with your bank, too.” Her eyes narrow. “Boxcar…” I shake my head. “Don’t argue with me, honey. My money is your money—” “And your money isn’t even yours,” she quips. “Eh, what’s a few numbers in a

computer?” I shrug. “Besides, I still owe you for losing that arm wrestling match.” “But I cheated.” “Oh!” I set my bottle down. “So, you actually admit it?” “Guys.” Fox raises his voice, silencing the two of us with little effort. He grins and shakes his head. “Nevermind.” I clap my hands together. “All right — I have a security system to rebuild.” “Yes, please,” Fox says. “Fix my house.” I curl my fingers around Caleb’s hand. “We just need to run upstairs and check something real quick…” He squints. “Boxcar.” “It’s just a quick check of the

upstairs rooms,” I say, pulling her with me towards the hall. “Location scouting for cameras and wires and all—” “You don’t need Caleb for that.” I gasp. “I’ll have you know, this woman is highly skilled in many things. Her expertise will come in handy bringing this place back online.” “Uh, yeah,” Caleb says, following my lead. “I got loads of knowledge.” Fox heaves a defeated sigh and Dani giggles as Caleb and I round the corner and rush up the tall stairwell. I pause at the top, suddenly torn by the multiple choices of doors but Caleb shoves me towards the second on the left. She pushes it open, revealing an ample-sized guest room with a king-

sized bed. “This will do,” I nod. I close the door and push Caleb against it, finding her lips again as her fingers tug quickly at my belt. She wastes no time taking what she wants and I feel her fingers grip tightly around me. A quiet groan teases my throat as my cock springs to life, growing harder with each stroking touch she makes. I drop my kisses to her neck and I feel her quiver against the door, easing closer to me as a moan starts on her tongue. “Shh,” I chuckle. “We should probably be quiet—” “Shut up and fuck me.” I smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

I pull her off the door and guide her towards the bed. She falls down onto it and she raises her arms as I pull her shirt over her head. My lips find hers again before it even touches the floor. She lays back to present herself to me and I unzip her jeans with one hand, fishing my fingers into her panties while my tongue tastes her sweet lips. Caleb sighs with pleasure as my fingers split her pink folds and I draw circles around her throbbing bud. Her hips twitch, rubbing against my hand a little harder, taking the joy she deserves. My wife writhes beneath me, inhaling quick, shallow breaths, gripping the bedspread under us with both hands and I look upon her like the goddess she is.

“Don’t stop…” she moans. My lips curl against her perfect skin. “Like I ever could.” I push a finger inside of her and she moans, twitching elegantly as more pleasure rocks her center. Her muscles grasp me from the inside and I imagine what it’ll feel like when my cock is finally inside of her again. I push off and stand over her, watching her mewl as I pull her jeans off her perfect legs. She sits up and tugs on my open pants, drawing me closer to her as she slides my briefs down to expose my hard cock. I lean over her, forcing her down onto her back, sliding in place between her thighs as I crush my lips against hers.

She reaches down and grips my shaft and I groan above her as her tight fist positions me between her folds. Another moan steals her away while she rubs the hard tip on herself. I balance on my arms above her and I admire the pleasure washing over her face as she gets herself off. She bites her lip to hold back her moans and I chuckle softly at her, enjoying every splendid moment of her taking what she wants. Her eyes sparkle with climax and she guides me inside just in time for me to feel her tightness surge along my shaft. I thrust deeper and she smiles, bucking her hips to meet me with a fast, steady rhythm. I lean in closer and she drags her

nails up my body, forcing my shirt over my head. I wince, forgetting about my wounds and she cringes. “Sorry!” she cries. I chuck the shirt across the room and shake my head, lowering my lips to hers again without a care in the world. Pain blends with pleasure. Desire overwhelms everything. My dick swells, throbbing wildly inside of her with each hard thrust. Inside of Caleb Fawn, the stone-cold warrior woman who never wanted anything to do with me but I couldn’t get enough of her. But now, I’ve done the impossible. I made her fall in love with me. She throws her head back and moans my name. “Boxcar…”

I adjust the movement, thrusting upward because I know what it does to her. Like a damn magician, I give the most subtle flick of my wand and miracles dance in front of her eyes. She digs her nails into my back, driving my passions for her. I kiss her again, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth, and she breaks beneath me, coming so hard even I see stars. I grip her body and fuck her a little harder until she brings me down. I come inside of her, embraced in her warmth and she covers my face and neck with soft kisses to keep me from falling apart. My exhausted body collapses onto the bed beside her and she rolls over to face me. I study her eyes, just waiting for

that moment when panic rises up and overwhelms her. Any second now, she’ll sit up, her fingers will twitch, and guilt will drive her to find her panties as fast as humanly possible. “Caleb?” I whisper. She blinks slowly and heaves a thick breath. “Boxcar?” A smile trembles across her lips. Her eyes never leave mine, seemingly content and satisfied. Any moment now… Caleb shifts up and my heart sinks as the horrible prophecy takes shape in my mind. I close my eyes, preparing for the worst, then I feel her head settle against my shoulder and her soft touch lands on my chest.

“I love you, Mr. Boxcar.” I laugh so hard it hurts.

Please enjoy Untouched: A Bad Boy MMA Romance the first novel in the Midwest Alpha Trilogy as a bonus read! Thank you for reading! xoxo TK

UNTOUCHED: A BAD BOY MMA ROMANCE MIDWEST ALPHAS | BOOK 1

TABATHA KISS

Copyright © 2015 by Tabatha Kiss All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older. No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related. All sex scenes take place after the protagonist

has reached legal age (18) and all sexual activity detailed within is consensual. WARNING: This novel contains explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language. Reader discretion advised.

UNTOUCHED: A BAD BOY MMA ROMANCE MIDWEST ALPHAS | BOOK 1 BY TABATHA KISS

I thought I wanted my stepbrother, but then I met his cousin. I’ve been banished for bad behavior. Exiled away to some farmhouse out in the middle of Hickville, Missouri to be set straight by my ex-cop step-uncle, Charlie. I miss Chicago. I miss my friends.

Above all, I miss my bad boy stepbrother, Rick. The only person in the world that wants me around. Charlie has three rules: 1. Put everything back where you found it. 2. Don’t leave the house without supervision. 3. Stay away from his son, Tobias. He’s untouchable. In more ways than one. I walked in on Tobias changing. It was a total accident, but I didn’t cover my eyes. It wasn’t his perfect body that kept me

from looking away. It was the bruises. They were everywhere, like red and blue paint splattered across his ribs and arms. He’s hiding something but he’s not telling. Luckily, I’m not too keen on living by the rules. I follow him underground — literally — and catch him going head to head with some of the most vicious fighters in the country. The Midwest Alphas. An illegal MMA

fighting tournament. Tobias is the local favorite to win it all. But there’s something he wants more than to be the Alpha champion… And he’s looking right at me.

Chapter 1 Who Are You? My stepfather turns the wheel and we travel off the highway onto a dirt road. The car rocks back and forth along the unstable drive and the contents of my stomach shift from motion sickness I never knew I had. Six hours. It’s been six hours in this hot, muggy car, driving farther south than I’ve ever wanted to be in my entire life. Chicago is my home and I miss it more and more with every mile we travel. The last thing I want to do is spend the

summer down in Bumfuck, Missouri, but like they said, I have no choice in the matter. The farm comes into view as the fluorescent headlights illuminate it in the darkness. I cringe. It looks exactly as I expected it to, with a big, white house and an ugly, red barn at the far end of the driveway. Ugh, it even smells like it looks. Like dirt, mold, and dead things. The car stops and my mother and stepfather exchange a quick glance in the front seat. She’s barely looked at me in days, even when I begged her to speak to me. She’s weak, always has been. I know that this was all my stepfather’s idea, and like the submissive, doting wife she is, she never questioned it for a

second. My stepfather steps outside the car and slams his door before wandering back to the trunk. I lean forward, taking the only opportunity I have left. “Mom, please,” I beg her. “You don’t have to do this. Just give me one more chance and I—” The door next to me opens and I look up into the dark eyes of my stepfather, Thomas. He holds my suitcase in one hand. “Get out, Claire.” I turn back to my mother. Her eyes are down, on the brink of tears. “Mom, say something,” I tell her. “Claire, get out of the car.” I ignore him and reach out to my mother. “Mom—” His hand grips my

arm to pull me out. I snatch my purse off the seat beside me. “Mom!” She covers her face with her hands as I’m forced out on to the gravel driveway. Thomas closes the door behind us, casting her face into total darkness. “Come on,” he growls. He keeps his grip on me and tugs me along with him towards the dark, white house. A dim lamp lights the porch above the scratched front door, painted red to match the eyesore of a barn across the gravel driveway. “Will you please let me go?” I ask, my voice shaking. Thomas says nothing, he never even turns back to acknowledge that I spoke.

We climb the wooden porch steps and stop in front of the door. He reaches out and knocks twice. Before I can take another breath, the door flies open and an older man stands in the doorway. He’s taller, a little taller than Thomas, but carries the exact same buzzed black and silver hair and mustache that every man I know born in the 1970s carries around with him like a badge of honor. I look up at him and we lock eyes for a brief moment. “Come on in,” he says. Thomas’ hand drops from my arm and he stares me down. “Go on,” he gestures me inside. My eyes scan the entrance. I stand

firm, not wanting to take another step. “Please take me home—” “Get in the damn house, Claire.” I look at my stepfather and my hatred for him multiplies. A chill glides through my body. I wrap my arms around my chest to keep the warmth inside. The early summer air does little to help. I quake and shiver. My body doesn’t feel like my own. I feel out of focus, lost in my own skin. Thomas’ hand touches my back and he shoves me inside. I stumble, but keep myself up right as I walk into the large farmhouse. He tosses my suitcase inside after me and it lands with a loud thud at my feet. “Goodnight, Thomas,” the man says

to my stepfather before closing the door behind me. We stand in silence as I listen to the sounds of Thomas’ boots on the porch outside and the car engine roaring with life before rolling down the gravel road. The shock hits me. They left me here. They actually left me here. They left me behind in some strange house with some strange man out in the middle of nowhere. I look around the entryway. The stairs to the second floor sit right ahead of me and a living room sits just to the right of the front door. This house is obviously old, worn, and hasn’t seen a woman’s touch in quite some time. The furniture in the living room doesn’t match. The throw rugs are worn down

from feet walking on them for decades. The television is small and just as old as I am. “Come with me,” the man finally says. He steps out of the living room and I reluctantly follow him into the back of the house. We enter a kitchen with white counters and a white floor. White appliances, white everything. “Sit down.” He pulls out a wooden chair from the round dinner table in the corner and points it towards the center of the room. As I sit down, I feel like it might break beneath me, it’s so old. I cling to my purse like a security blanket, the only sense of familiarity I have here. “Do you know why you’re here?”

the man asks. He reaches up and grabs a drinking glass from the cupboard and fills it with water from the sink faucet. I scoff, but say nothing. My teeth chatter together in my head. My thumping heart fills my ears. He walks forward and holds the water glass out for me to take. My tongue twitches, begging for it after the long and hot car ride. I take the glass and gulp the water down. It tastes old and strange, but it’s better than nothing. “Your parents believe you’ve gone down the wrong path and they sent you here for my guidance,” he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter near the sink. “What makes you so special?” I set

the glass down on the table behind me. “My name is Charlie Eastwood,” he says. “We’ve never met, but I know who you are.” “Right…” I sigh, recalling the name. “Uncle Charlie. Thomas’ brother. The cop.” “I’m not a cop anymore,” he says. “But back then, I was the one they called to deal with situations like this.” “Like what?” I ask. “You’re in withdrawal, Claire,” he says. “You’re twitchy. You can’t get warm.” He furrows his brow. “How long since your last hit? Two days? Three?” I roll my eyes. “Your parents aren’t sure what you

took, but I’d guess cocaine, maybe a little bit of something else.” “Am I supposed to be impressed?” I ask. “You have a drug problem, an attitude problem, and…” he takes a breath, “a boundary problem.” “What boundary problem?” I scoff. “They told me about you and Rick,” he says. I shift in the chair. “Oh, come on…” “You two are family—” “He’s my stepbrother!” I shout. “Step. We’re not actually related. You people know that, right?” “Family is more than blood, young lady.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever. But Rick and I did nothing wrong!” He pushes himself off the counter. “Calm down,” he warns. “Now, I don’t care about that as much as they do. The cops didn’t pick you up for fooling around with your stepbrother. They picked you up for being a minor under the influence of drugs and alcohol. And to be honest, I’m more concerned with the bruises on your face right now than anything else.” I flinch. “He didn’t do anything.” “He’s not here, Claire. You don’t have to cover for him—” “I shouldn’t be here,” I interrupt. “This is bullshit.” “I won’t tolerate swearing in my

house.” “What is this, 1962?” “While you’re here in my house, you will follow my rules,” he says. “You should consider yourself lucky—” “Lucky?” “The officers that picked you up could have booked you with enough to put you away for a long time. I’m not just talking jail, I’m talking rehab and lots of red marks on your permanent record. Your life, ruined, in one night — over something as stupid as getting high—” “Thanks for the recap, Dudley DoRight.” He pauses and stares down at me. I expect anger in his voice, but he holds it back, calm and collected. “Claire,

you’re lucky,” he repeats. “You might not think so, but the other kids you were arrested with didn’t have the connections with the law your stepfather does and they’re all sitting in concrete cells right now. You aren’t.” “May as well be…” My eyes wash over the bright kitchen again. “You can’t keep my here. This is kidnapping.” “The law says otherwise,” he says. “You’re a minor and your parents have transferred you into my care for the summer—” “Only for another month,” I interrupt. “I turn eighteen soon and when I do, I’m walking out of here.” “We’ll see about that,” he nods. “In the meantime, you’ll follow a strict

schedule for meals, chores, and bedtime —” “I have a bedtime?” “And you’re late for that tonight, so I better see you to your room.” I scoff. “It’s nine o’clock.” “Oh, and also…” He reaches out and snatches my purse out of my hands. “Hey!” I shout. He fishes inside of it and grabs my phone. “You’ve lost all phone privileges. And we don’t have wi-fi out here, so it’s basically useless to you.” “What the hell—?” “I said no swearing.” “Hell isn’t a swear,” I argue. “It is the way you use it.” I take a breath and it clatters

throughout my body, knocking my insides around. “This is crap,” I say. Charlie glares down at me, his eyes falling down my face. “You want to tell me how you busted your lip open?” he asks. I press against the cut with my tongue and the near-forgotten pain fires up my cheek from my bottom lip. “Slipped on a banana peel,” I quip. “I bet you tumbled right onto a doorknob, too, didn’t ya?” he asks. I say nothing. He sighs and drops the empty purse back into my lap. “Let’s go.” I follow him back to the entryway and I grab my suitcase off the floor. My eyes wander upwards and I see a long

rifle mounted above the door. I missed it earlier, but it’s clear as day now from this angle. The floor creaks beneath us as we climb the stairs. It’s loud, annoying, and completely eliminates the possibility of sneaking out. I get the feeling Officer Killjoy here sleeps with one eye open. There are four doors in the second floor hallway. Charlie points to the left, targeting the nearest door to the top of the stairs. “That’s my room,” he says. We head to the right and he pushes open the next door. “Bathroom here. If the toilet won’t flush, just jiggle the handle a little.” “Of course,” I sigh. We continue on to the next door.

“This is your room,” he says, pushing the door open. I step inside and look around with curious eyes. A canopy bed lines one wall with a pink bedspread, decorated with a floral pattern, with a small vanity and mirror next to it. The closet sits open and I spot various articles of women’s clothing inside. There’s a bookshelf in every corner, lined with dozens of novels and textbooks. “Whose room is this?” I ask Charlie. “Yours.” “No, I mean… whose stuff is this?” “Don’t worry about it. It’s yours to use while you stay here.” “Do you have a daughter or something?”

“I said don’t worry about it.” I turn back around, startled by the firmness of his tone. “What’s in there?” I point to the fourth and final door just across the hall to change the subject. “That’s my son’s room, Tobias. You probably won’t see him much. He works nights.” He steps back and grips the doorknob. “Where’s your wife?” I ask. “She passed many years ago,” he says. “It’s just me and him now.” I pause. “Oh.” “Get ready for bed. Lights out in ten minutes.” “Lights out?” “Lights out.” He steps out into the hall and quickly closes the door behind

him. “Jesus Christ…” I mutter to myself. I drop my suitcase onto the bed and glance around. It feels strange to live in another person’s private space, but as I run a finger across the vanity desk next to the bed, I find a layer of dust. Whoever lives here hasn’t been by in quite some time. I sit down on the stool before the vanity and stare into the mirror. My brown hair is tangled and in desperate need of shampoo. My eyes are bloodshot. My lips are chapped, making the thin reddish-black scab stand out even more against my pale skin. Black circles ring around my eyes. My gaze

falls to the pale blue bruise just below my left cheek. I think, for a moment, that maybe they’re right. Maybe I do have a problem. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about being stuck in this dump for the next few weeks. *** I stare at the clock and watch the numbers climb to sixty then jump back down to zero. It’s quiet, far too quiet for me to be comfortable. I miss the city buzz. The constant chatter of voices, cars, and life. The country silence of 3 A.M. sounds deafening in my ears. I lick

my dry lips, feeling a deep hunger I can’t satisfy. Charlie was right before. I’m in withdrawal. Right now, I’ll do anything for another hit — anything to distract myself from the sounds of my body screaming at me. The sudden grind of an engine brings me out of it. I sit up and turn to look out the window behind the bed. It’s dark, but the darkness is quickly cut by an approaching headlight. The motorbike comes into view with a lone rider guiding it slowly to the red barn across the driveway. A lamp above the barn illuminates the ground around him as I watch him dismount and pull the black helmet off his head. I can barely see his

face, but I can tell that’s he’s young. He places the helmet on the bike’s seat and rolls the thing inside the barn before sliding the door closed behind him. I spin back around and lay my head against the pillow. It’s soaked in my own sweat. I flip it around to the other side, hoping that sleep will somehow come, but my eyes pull towards the window again. I see the boy walking towards the house. This must be Charlie’s son, Tobias. The one that works nights. His eyes look up at the house and immediately drift towards my window. I fall back down, hoping to avoid his gaze. His shoes hit the front porch and I listen carefully as he enters the front door.

I climb off the bed and press my ear against the door to listen to him move. I feel a presence on the other side, but I never heard him climb the stairs. My doorknob turns and I jump out of the way as the door suddenly swings open. “Who are you?” he asks through his teeth. He steps forward fast to grab me by the shoulders. “What are you doing in her room?” I blink repeatedly as his dark face fills my vision. He has the same black hair as his father and my stepfather, but it’s longer and more casual. It falls down to his angry eyes and he stares back at me with jade green irises. “I’m Claire…” I whisper. I scan his

face again, placing him somewhere in his early-twenties. He reminds me of Rick. His demeanor is so wild and intimidating, I’m scared to move. “Why are you in my house, Claire?” he asks. “Believe me — I’m not here by choice,” I say, my limbs shaking. “I got into some trouble and my parents brought me out and left me here…” His grip on me loosens. “Right…” he nods slowly. “I guess no one told you I was coming…” I mutter. I lick my dry lips again. “They didn’t tell me either until I was in the car.” He takes a step back and drops his hands to his sides. His eyes wander

around the room with a protective vibe before finally falling back on me and staring at my bottom lip. “Sorry if I hurt you.” “You didn’t—” Before I can complete the thought, he’s out the door. He steps inside his own room and quickly closes the door behind him. Once again, I look around the room and wonder who the hell lives in it. My teeth graze along my lips in thought, making me cringe as they slide along the scabbed wound. Rick never spoke much about this side of his family. I’m not sure why, nor did I ever think to ask. Talking isn’t our strongest suit anyway. My relationship

with my stepbrother isn’t conventional. We party. We do drugs, and yeah, we almost ended up in bed together once, but it’s more than that. I feel a strong connection with him, stronger than I ever thought possible. He loves me. He told me that he was the only person in the world that did. I believe him more and more every day. Each passing moment has me reaching for my phone, but of course, it’s been taken from me, along with what was left of my freedom. The instinct remains. I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice, smell his skin. I want to get out of this hellhole and go back to the

city to be with him where I belong. I climb back into the bed and wrap the blanket around me to get warm. My skin quickly breaks out in a cold sweat and I find myself begging for another glass of cold water.

Chapter 2 I’m A Prisoner “Rise and shine!” I roll over to find Charlie standing over me, completely dressed and ready to start his day. “What?” I mutter. “It’s 6 A.M., Claire,” he says. “Time to start your chores.” I sit up. “What?” I repeat. He chuckles. “Get dressed, wear something you can move around in. There’s some extra eggs and bacon downstairs. Get something to eat. Meet me at the barn by 6:30, not a minute

after. Got me?” The words blur together in my mind. I’m so tired, I can barely hear him. He walks out of the room, leaving me behind in my exhausted confusion. I sit up and look out the window. The morning sun sits barely above the horizon. I fall back down onto my pillow and close my eyes. “Claire!” The force of his voice shoots me upright. “What?!” I yelp. I peel my eyes open to see Charlie standing in the doorway. “It’s 6:15,” he says. “You’ve officially missed breakfast.” I stare at him, shooting the best daggers I can at

him until he chuckles again. “I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your outfit for the day. Put it on.” I look at the foot of the bed and spot a pair of over-sized men’s jeans and a red flannel shirt. “I’m not wearing that,” I mutter with an upturned nose. “Too bad. Put it on. Tomorrow, wake up on time. Then, you can pick out your own clothes.” He grips the doorknob. “Downstairs. Now.” I push the blanket off and stare at him until he closes the door. The jeans are way too big and easily fall off my hips, but I find a belt in the closet that doesn’t make me completely gag. A quick scan of the clothes inside tells me the story of a young girl, most likely

around my age. Probably boring, quiet. No real party clothes in sight at first glance. Lots of cardigans and long skirts that sit just below the kneecap. I push farther back into the closet and smirk. Just like me, she keeps the good stuff in the back. I find a few shorter skirts, some tube tops, and some nice, fun blouses that look to be about my size. Excellent. I make a mental note to inspect them further before throwing on the disgusting flannel shirt Charlie picked out for me. It’s also far too large, but I tie it off in front to make it fit tighter around me. I check out my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringe at the sight. Dark make-up sits smeared around my

eyes, stuck there after a day of not washing it off. I look older, but not in a good way. I lean forward and splash water on my face to wake me up and clear off the remaining old make-up and oil from my skin. My breath tastes sour, my head hurts, and there’s been a ringing in my ears for the last ten minutes that I can’t seem to shake away. I brush my teeth and step back into the hallway. “Pull your hair back,” Charlie says as I come down the stairs. “You get to decide my hair styles, too?” He holds up a rubber band and I take it from him. “No,” he says. “But it’s warm outside and I know you’re going to

want to eventually.” I put my hair up into a loose ponytail. “Now what?” I ask. “Follow me.” He pulls open the front door and I follow him outside. One minute outside and I’m already begging for a glass of water. It’s just one more reason to make me feel homesick. Chicago isn’t nearly as humid as this place is. I take deep, long breaths as we make our way across the driveway towards the barn. “I let you sleep in this morning,” he says. “But tomorrow, you wake up at five with me.” I smack a mosquito off my arm. “You wake up at five?” “Sometimes four,” he smirks.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it after a week or two.” “Yeah, right…” I flinch and slap another mosquito off my neck. Charlie grips the barn door and slides it open. “We have three cows here: Doris, Betty, and Gloria. We let ‘em roam the fields during the day, but at night, they’re kept in the barn.” “Okay…” I take a step into the barn. The air is thick and muggy. It feels like I’m breathing gelatin and it smells like a damp sewer. “Jeez—” I cough. “You’ll get used to that.” Charlie points over my head. “Grab that bucket. Remember exactly where you took it from, because you’ll be expected to put it right back where you found it. Same

goes for every piece of my equipment you use.” I look up and see the metal bucket hanging on the wall. As I walk over, I notice Tobias’ motorbike parked nearby. I get a better look at the helmet. It’s pitch black with a small, pink sticker on the back. I lean forward to see it’s a little cartoon cat. “I’m sure I already know the answer to this one, but have you ever milked a cow?” I spin back around with the bucket in hand. “No…” I answer. He grins back at me. “Perfect. Bring that over here.” I follow behind him, dragging my feet through the muddy hay on the ground

as I go. The barn is quite larger than it appears on the outside. My eyes roam about and I take in all the little details like the bright fluorescent lights set up in the ceiling and the hay bales stacked up near the walls. I spot a wooden ladder leading upward and look up to see a loft above my head. Three cows sit along the opposite wall, each one in their own section with a food trough and water bin, separated by makeshift wooden fences. I chuckle silently, thinking that these animals have it better than I do. I check out the far corner and see a tall punching bag hanging from the ceiling, obviously old and heavily used. “Sit down on that stool there next to

Doris,” Charlie says. I walk around him and bend over to cross under the wood plank to enter the cow’s section. I hesitate before sitting down on the rickety old stool. The cow pushes in closer to me, nearly knocking me off it. I put a hand against it to push her away, an act I immediately regret. I pull my hand back to find it covered in dirt and grime. “Ugh…” I mutter. “Put the bucket down beneath her,” he chuckles. “I think I got it…” I spit as I toss it down. He leans against the wooden sectional between the cows. “All right then… go on,” he gestures. I crack my knuckles, stalling for

time, trying to picture all the movies and television shows I’ve seen this in. You just grab the dangling thing and pull, right? Seems simple enough. I reach out and feel the smooth teat in my hand. “Get in there—” I shoot another glance at him and duck further beneath the cow. “Nothing personal, Betty…” I mutter. “That’s Doris.” “Yeah, yeah.” I start from the top of the teat and pull down. To my surprise, a spurt of milk shoots out into the bucket below. “There you go. Good job,” Charlie says. “How do I know when to stop?” I ask.

“She’ll tell ya.” I roll my eyes. “Okay…” I continue milking her, feeling his hard gaze on me as I go. “You’re not allowed to leave the house without supervision. Understand?” Charlie asks. “It’s for your own protection.” “Protection?” I scoff. “Yes.” “Why do I need protection?” “We both know why.” I glare up at him with annoyance. “So, I’m a prisoner?” I ask, pulling on another teat. “No, you’re my guest — a guest with no privileges. The more work you do, the more privileges you earn.”

“What exactly is the point of this again?” “The point, Claire, is to teach you responsibility. Nothing worth having in this world comes easy. Patience and hard work will earn you more than laziness and entitlement.” I look up at him. “Then how many cows do I have to milk to get my phone back?” He smirks. “More than I have, that’s for sure.” “Oh, goody.” “It won’t be just milking cows,” he continues. “After this, we gotta lay some more hay down in here, feed the chickens, and tend to the horses.” “You have horses?” I ask.

“Two of ‘em,” he nods. “You do as you’re told and you’ll earn a few rides, if you want.” I nod. It’s the first bit of goodness I’ve felt since I got here, but it’s enough to keep me going for now. My eyes fall past him and I look at the motorbike again. Charlie follows my gaze and shakes his head. “You won’t be earning any rides on that thing,” he says. “It’s my son’s.” “Yeah,” I say, looking back to the cow. “I met him last night.” “What were you doing out of bed?” he asks, his voice stern. “I heard someone wandering around outside my room,” I say. “I

thought I’d check it out…” He seems satisfied with the response. “He comes in pretty late sometimes.” “Where does he work?” I ask. “The factory across town.” “What kind of factory is it?” “Automobile parts.” I scoff. “Of course…” I try to think of a way his response could have been any more boring, but I come up with next to nothing. “I don’t want you bothering Tobias, Claire,” he says. I look up to find his eyes fixed on me. “Okay…” “He’s a good kid. He doesn’t need someone like you being an influence on

him.” “Jeez, calm down,” I say. “I get it. I’ll stay away from him.” Charlie watches me in silence for a few more minutes. “She’s good,” he finally says. “Let’s move on to Betty. Don’t kick the bucket when you stand up.” I spend the next several hours following Charlie around his farm, taking instructions from him on all the various chores I’ll have to partake in during my stay here, from spreading chicken feed to cleaning out the horse stables. I hate every moment of it, but there’s not much I can do about it. I’d do anything to be sitting in a coffee shop, or going to the mall, or sneaking out to a

party with Rick. Just one month of this torture and I’ll be back to that life. I will admit that this place is quite beautiful — for a farm, anyway. Last night, it was dark and almost scary, but now, with the bright sun and the colorful flora painting everything green, I kind of like it. I can’t stand the fucking mosquitos though, and don’t get me started on the humidity. “That’s it for today,” Charlie says after I meet the horses. I reach out and brush my fingers along the neck of a tall black horse named Orion. He’s easily my favorite. The other one, brown and spotted white, is named Leo and wanted nothing to do

with me when I tried to touch him. Orion, on the other hand, hasn’t shied away from my touch once. “I’m done?” I ask. “For today…” he repeats. “Should be about noon now. Good time to get some lunch.” I nod. “Can I take a shower first?” I ask in desperation. “Go for it,” he says. “Then I can take you into town and show you around.” “Do I have a choice?” “Not really.” I take off for the house, eager to get out of the mosquito feeding grounds. My entire body feels gross, like I’m covered in a thick layer of toxic sweat and fecal

matter. I’ve never felt so worn out in all of my life and I can’t imagine for a second why anyone would choose this life. Maybe I’m just a city kid, but why someone would embrace this over a life of ease and convenience is beyond me. I reach the second floor bathroom and push the door open. “Oh!” I yelp in surprise. Tobias looks back at me as my eyes glide down his bare body. He’s fit and firm, with muscles poking out of his skin at every angle, along with a slew of tattoos covering his body and arms. A towel sits limply around his waist, barely hanging on. He quickly grips it tight to keep it from tumbling down. My eyes fall to the bruises.

They cover his abdomen with a thick, purple color, traveling from his pecks down to his belly button, spaced out like random paint splatter. His ribs seem to have taken the brunt of it with fresh, red marks staining his white skin. “Oh, shit!” I cry out and slap my hand over my eyes. “Sorry — Fuck. I’m sorry.” My fingers slip from the doorknob. I reach out to find it again, but I miss it repeatedly. I peek out from behind my hand to find it, but I instantly look at his toned and crushed body again. “Sorry—” I say again as I grab the door handle and pull the bathroom door closed. I jump back and rush down the hall to my room.

Chapter 3 Factory Equipment The nearest bit of civilization is fifteen miles away in a small town just outside of Rolla. I didn’t catch the name of it, nor do I really care to. Charlie drives me around the tiny town, pointing out landmarks and shops and whatever else can be qualified as “local flavor.” It’s a struggle to keep my eyes from rolling out of their sockets. We turn onto Main Street. Much like I recall from old sitcom towns, this is called Main Street for a reason. Every

important business is here, from the local grocery store, to the post office, to the sheriff’s office. It’s almost cute. Charlie parks the truck in front of the grocery store and we both climb out of it. “I’ve got a few things to pick up while we’re here,” he says. “Stay close to me.” I follow him into the store and stay quiet as we drift through the aisles. Charlie grabs random things off the shelf, like condiments and coffee beans, while I try to stifle my yawns and avoid the prying eyes of the other weirdos that live in this town. A young woman stands behind the checkout counter with a perky smile glued to her red-painted lips. She looks

up at us as we approach and her bright blue eyes immediately fall on me. “Hey, Mr. Eastwood,” she greets Charlie. Her tight, blonde ponytail swishes back and forth behind her head as she speaks. “Hello, Amy,” Charlie replies as he reaches behind his back to pull out his wallet. She looks at me again. “Who’s this?” she asks. She grabs a ketchup bottle off the belt and quickly scans it before dropping it into a paper sack. “She’s my brother’s girl,” he mutters. “Just in town visiting for a little while.” Amy blinks in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a niece.” She extends her perfectly manicured hand out to me. “I’m

Amy Jones.” I reluctantly take her hand and she jerks it up and down in a surprisingly firm shake. “Claire Holloway,” I say. “So you’re Tobias’ cousin…” she says, chewing on her lip. “I didn’t know he had one other than Rick.” I twitch at the mention of his name. “You know Rick?” “Oh, I know everybody,” she gloats, “and everything about them… mostly.” Charlie clears his throat and Amy turns her attentions back to the groceries. “Anyway, how long are you staying?” she asks me as she grabs the next item off the belt. She moves quickly with expert precision, barely even glancing at the items as she packs them

away into bags. “You’re from Chicago, right? I remember Rick being from there. I would love to nibble your ear off about that place over lunch—” “Maybe some other time, Amy,” Charlie interrupts. She presses her lips together, taking the hint. “Okay,” she squeaks. “That’ll be nineteen-fifty.” He hands her a twenty dollar bill and she pops open her drawer. “Keep the change,” he tells her. “Thanks, Mr. Eastwood,” she smiles. “Have a nice day!” We step outside and wander back to the truck with the groceries. “So, I’m not allowed to make friends either?” I ask Charlie.

“You’re not here to make friends,” he says as he steps up into the truck. I roll my eyes. “Okay, then…” *** I can’t sleep. I’ve been up since 6 A.M. Charlie sent me to bed at nine, well over three hours ago. I should be more exhausted after an entire day of work and no play, but I can’t seem to catch any sleep. I grab a pair of shorts and a cute shirt from the closet and step out into the hallway with a random book from the shelf in the corner. After last night, I started thinking about the stairs. Tobias climbed them without making any noise

and he was at my door before I even knew he was there. There must be spots on the stairs that don’t make noises when walked on and if I’m going to be here for the next few weeks without losing my mind, then I’m going to have to figure them out. I grip the railing and slowly move my foot along the first wooden stair, putting soft pressure on them until I find that perfect angle. It takes me nearly twenty minutes to patiently memorize a decent pattern to make it down to the first floor undetected. The barn door squeaks as I open it, but I’m hoping the distance between it and the house is far enough that the noise doesn’t travel to Charlie’s sleeping ears.

I move about in the darkness until I find the ladder I noticed earlier. Splinters of old wood scratch at my hands as I climb, but I easily make it to the top without drawing blood. I’m obviously not the first person to escape up here. A few small hay bales lie next to an open window in the wall, creating the perfect hideout to lounge in and hopefully relax my active mind. I look to the stars, take a deep breath of fresh air, and smile. You can’t get this view anywhere in Chicago, that’s for sure. I lie back and open the book. It’s one of those cheesy teenage romances that’s already been adapted into a cheesy summer movie that no one watched. Not

my preferred genre of entertainment, but the idea is to bore myself to sleep. My eyes scan the title page and I see the initials M.E. scratched into the corner with a blue pen. Three chapters in and I’m still no more tired than when I came out here. Movement catches my eye and I watch as Tobias steps quietly down the front porch from the window above. A few moments later, he slides the barn door open and I slink farther back against the hay bales. I bite my lip, thinking that I’ve been caught, but he doesn’t see me as he walks inside and flicks on the fluorescent lights hastily chained to the ceiling. He moves slowly and cracks his thick knuckles as he

walks over to his motorbike. I watch him quietly and my tongue taps the roof of my mouth. Charlie told me to leave him alone, but a question lingers on my lips. “Where’d you get all the bruises?” Tobias jolts and exhales a heavy breath before looking up at me. “My dad told me not to talk to you.” He looks away and focuses on his bike again. “Do you always do what your dad tells you to do?” I ask, smiling. His eyes flick up in my direction. It’s hard for me to get a read on him from this distance. I can’t tell if he’s angry or amused. He pauses before reaching out to grab the large, black helmet off the bike seat. “I got them at work,” he

answers, avoiding my face. “At work?” I ask. “Yeah, at work.” “Do guys beat you up at work on a regular basis?” He finally turns and peaks up at me with narrow eyes. “I got them from operating factory equipment,” he claims. I smirk. “If you say so…” “Who busted your lip open?” he retorts. I stare down at him silently until he shifts around to grab the handles of his bike. “You should get back inside,” he says. “If he catches you out here—” “He’ll make me milk another cow?” I quip. “That… or he’ll make you write out Bible verses by hand — using your non-

dominant hand,” he begins. “Or he’ll take you down to the sheriff’s office and they’ll have you pick up trash by the highway. Or he’ll take you to the nursing home in Rolla where you’ll spend the afternoon helping the staff switch out bedpans.” A smile teases my lips. “Sounds like you speak from experience.” “I do.” “And here I was told you were a good boy.” “I have my moments.” His eyes linger on me a little longer. “I need to get to work.” “Be careful,” I tell him. “I hear factory equipment can be awfully dangerous.”

He takes a quick breath. “You should really get back inside,” he smirks, ignoring my comment. “Bedpans?” I ask. “Bedpans.” “I guess I will then,” I chuckle. I push off the hay bales and carefully lower myself down the ladder to the ground below. As I turn around, I catch sight of the large punching bag again, hanging off the ceiling in the corner next to the silent cow pins. “Goodnight, Tobias,” I say as I pass by him. “Goodnight, Claire,” he mutters back. He pushes the bike out and slides the door closed behind us. I watch him as he mounts it and slides the helmet

onto his head. Even now, he reminds me of Rick, with his thick black hair and prying eyes. Their voices are similar as well, each with a deep growl hovering below every syllable. I stand back as he revs the engine and takes off fast into the night. *** Charlie steps into my room and tosses his car keys towards the bed. They land with a jingle next to my feet. I lower my book and stare at them before darting my eyes back to him. “What’s up, Charlie?” I ask, trying to remain cool and casual. “I have to make a trip into town,”

he says. “You have a license, right?” I lean forward and pick them up. “Yes…” I say. “Well, let’s go then.” “You’re letting me drive?” I ask. He slips an arm into his jacket. “Unless you have a rather compelling reason for me not to.” I drop the book to the bed. It’s yet another boring romance I found on the shelf. Whoever M.E. is, they certainly left behind a large library of crap I never intended on reading, but I can’t seem to put down. “No no,” I say, shaking my head. “No reason.” Charlie holds up a hand. “Work,” he says. Then he raises his other hand, “Reward.”

I smile and hop off the bed. It’s been a week since I arrived here and Charlie has barely let me do anything other than shovel food into my own mouth. Chores being the obvious, and only, exception. The thick, hateful tension between us seems to be breaking somewhat, but I wouldn’t call us friends just yet. I still hate it here. I wish there was someone to talk to other than Charlie. I don’t enjoy our daily “chats,” the ones where he sits me down at the dinner table and asks me how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking about, and if I still want to take drugs. I’m stuck out in the middle of ass-Jesus nowhere. Of course I want to get high and forget about my troubles,

but Charlie has made damn sure that doing so is impossible. Tobias seems hellbent on not breaking his father’s rules for not engaging with me. Granted, we rarely see each other. He’s gone all night and I’m up all day. There are a few occasions where he’s in the house with us during the day, but they are few and far between — and never last long before he’s on his motorbike again, heading off to who knows where. “Watch the speed limit,” Charlie warns, shifting in his seat. I’ve never driven a pick-up truck before, but I’m not about to let him know that. You don’t see large trucks like this in the city. City folk like sports cars and

SUVs. We don’t have a lot of use for big, gas-guzzling trucks. It’s strange being up in the air so high, but after a few miles, I’ve gotten used to it. I push the brake slightly, decreasing the speed by a few digits. “So, where are we going?” I ask him. “You are staying in the truck,” he says. “I have to see a friend.” “You have friends?” I chuckle. “Yes, I have friends.” We pull into town and Charlie directs me down Main Street. “Park at the corner here,” he points. I do as I’m told and take the parking spot, which thankfully isn’t parallel. There’s no way I’d be able to pull off parallel parking in this big beast of a

truck. I point the air conditioning at my face to fight the sweat breaking on my brow. “So, I just stay here then?” I ask. He pushes his door open and steps outside. “Yes.” “Okay…” I look around outside. Charlie wanders a few feet down the sidewalk before pausing and turning back to the truck. He gestures for me to roll down the window. “Or…” he mutters up at me, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “If you can handle it…” He grabs five dollars and holds it up to my window. “You can go grab us a loaf of bread from the market.” “Seriously?” I ask, snatching the money from his fingers. “If I make it back to the truck

before you do,” he warns, “I’ll double your chores tomorrow.” “I understand,” I say, nodding quickly. “Bread only.” I turn off the truck and hop out of it. “In and out. No problem, Charlie.” I watch him walk off in the opposite direction and wait until I see where he’s going. He crosses the street and enters an office with the sign ‘Bradley Jones, Attorney at Law’ hovering above it. I pick up my pace and rush into the grocery store across the street. I’ve been in here before, so I know they keep the bread in the back, next to the eggs and milk. Charlie’s serious about doubling my chores and honestly,

it’s the last thing I want. He’s just started giving me a little wiggle room and I don’t want to blow what little trust he’s formed in me. I keep my head down, find the bread, and grab a loaf before a minute has passed by. Thankfully, there’s no line at the checkout. I toss the bread down and fish into my pocket for the money Charlie gave me. “Hey, Claire!” I look up to see Amy standing behind the counter. “Hey,” I answer. “This all you need?” she asks, snatching the bread off the belt to scan it in. “Yeah.” “Cool,” she says. “Running errands

with Charlie again?” “Yeah…” I check her face again and notice that her bottom lip is split on one side, bruised and scabbed over just like mine was. She also sports the remains of what looks to be a pretty decent, and recent, black eye. It wasn’t there a week ago when I first met her. Amy catches me staring at her and she quickly looks away. “That’ll be two seventy-five,” she mutters with smiling lips. I hand her the money. “So…” I say, keeping my voice low. “Where’d you get the…” I point to her face. She looks at me with shifting eyes. “Nowhere,” she says. “Where’d you get yours?”

“Nowhere…” I mutter. She hits me with another grin. “They aren’t what they look like,” she claims. “I work out at the local boxing gym once a week. Do you like boxing?” “Never done it,” I answer. Her voice gets low. “Do you like watching fights?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. I stare at her with confusion. “What?” She shifts on her feet, her lips curling slightly until she finally gestures me closer across the belt. “There’s a place…” she begins, “outside of town. Below the abandoned school on Third.” “What kind of place?” I ask. She lowers her voice, hesitating for

a moment before finally giving in. “Go around back, take the rear entrance by the stairs. Down the first hall, you’ll see a door marked basement. Then, just follow the noise and you’ll find it.” “Find what?” Her smile spreads wider. “There’s a fee, but it’s affordable.” She passes me my change. I open my mouth to ask for more information, but I catch sight of Charlie out the window behind her. He’s left the law office and is now walking slowly towards the truck. “Thank you,” I say as I grab the bread. “See you tonight,” Amy mutters with a full smirk crossing her face. I turn back to look at her one more

time before pushing the door open. I look around for Charlie again and see him just across the street. I sprint fast, bolting through the nearly abandoned street and make it back to the truck a few seconds before he does. Charlie pauses and stares at me with amused eyes. “There was a line,” I say as I climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. I hold up the bread and smile. He chuckles and moves to the passenger’s side.

Chapter 4 Follow The Noise I sit quietly in my room and wait. Charlie’s been in bed for a few hours now, just long enough to get into a really deep sleep. And for what I’m about to do, I need him to be really, really deep in sleep. I leave my room and close the door behind me. It took a long while for me to talk myself into doing this. Charlie’s just starting to trust me and if I get caught sneaking out, all of that will be over. But the more I thought about it, the more my

curiosity overwhelmed me. I step lightly down the stairs. Charlie keeps his truck’s keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Luckily, he hasn’t had the mind to hide them from me at night. I pull them off the hook and silently walk out the front door. The headlights stay off until I reach the turn for the highway. My heart races, scared of getting caught. I keep with the speed limit, hoping not to attract any attention to the truck I literally just stole. Earlier, I watched the street signs in town, hoping to find Third Street. Unfortunately, I didn’t, but I did see a First Street. Where there’s a First, there’s a Second, and, hopefully, a Third.

The town is deserted, just as I expected at an hour like this. I turn onto First Street and travel south through town. I take the next street over and smile when I find Second Street. I pause at the stop sign and spot a car speeding up the street crossing mine. I wait for them to pass and I don’t have to wait long. The vehicle charges through the intersection with the windows down, ignoring the stop sign in the process. Music blares out of it, along with the whoops and hollers of those inside. I quickly hit the gas and turn the truck to follow them. My gut tells me they’re here for the same reason I am. I come within distance of their license plate and spot the words St. Louis

County. I’m guessing people from St. Louis don’t make it a habit of traveling out to towns in the middle of nowhere unless they have a good — and fun — reason for it. I follow them through town and just as I suspected, they lead me to Third Street. A few miles later, we reach an abandoned school just outside the city limits, just like Amy described earlier. It’s old, unkempt, and surrounded by other cars. I park in the back and watch as three people tumble out of the car I followed here. They’re laughing, obviously inebriated, but they head towards the back entrance like they’ve been here a hundred times before. I climb out of the truck and follow them

up the stairs. Their voices echo through the halls. I keep my distance and follow them, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. They don’t seem to notice me, but if they have, they don’t care. They pull open a door marked basement and it falls closed behind them. I pick up my pace and pull it open. Follow the noise. By the time I’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, I’ve lost the travelers from St. Louis, but I can hear the screams and shouts of voices echoing through the dark hallways. I make my way through the black, relying on my ears to guide me until I finally come to a set of double doors with a bright light shining out from

beneath them. I push the door open and my jaw drops. It’s an old basketball court, disheveled from years of abandonment and disuse. A circular stage, shaped like an octagon, sits in the center of the arena, surrounded by a chain-link fence — obviously tossed together with whatever pieces they could find at the local junkyard. The lights flicker above it, just barely hanging on with what little electricity it still pumping into this place. Two fighters stand in the center with their fists engaged in fighting stances. As my eyes land on them, one takes a firm punch to the jaw and falls

flat to the floor. I flinch and my own hands fly to my mouth as I watch the blood spill off his teeth. “Hey, Claire!” I look up to find Amy stepping into my view. She appears entirely different than before, sporting a tight tank top and denim shorts. I blink, noticing her tight and toned body, which was well-hidden before behind long sleeves and pants. “Amy…?” I greet, shouting about the roaring crowd. “Hi.” I look around. There has to be at least fifty people cramped together in this makeshift arena. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” she says. “I almost wish I hadn’t…” I say. “Entrance fee is ten dollars,” she

says, holding out her hand. “But for you, I’ll take five. It’s your first time, after all. I like to be gentle.” A body slams into the fence and the crowd goes wild. I reach into my pocket and pull out the wad of cash I brought with me. I give her the money and look back to the ring as the same fighter takes another fist to the jaw. “What is this?” I ask her. “It’s an illegal MMA fighting ring, obviously,” she jokes as she stuffs my money into a large, glass jar. She twists the lid back on and holds onto it tightly against her breast. A metal whistle hangs down from a chain around her neck. I say nothing in response and stare back at her with confusion. “Mixed martial

arts,” she explains. “I see…” I look at the ring, unable to take my eyes off it. “Are there any rules?” She shakes her head. “No — well, no weapons. Fists and skin only. The fight goes until someone is knocked unconscious or taps out.” The crowd lets out another scream as one fighter lands a serious jab against the other’s throat. “Are these locals?” I ask, scanning their wild faces. “Oh, hell no,” she answers with a giggle. “Well, a few, like myself. The others come from all over the state just to bare witness to the best fighters in the whole Midwest.”

I blink, feeling queasy, as the same fighter takes another bloody punch. “What do they get out of this?” I ask. “Underground fame and glory, baby!” she smirks. “And this.” She holds up the glass jar. “The winner gets the entrance fees?” “I take a bit off the top for organizing the event,” she says. “Then the local on-duty cop takes a bit for his silence. The rest gets stashed away for the final tournament fight and the winner of that takes home everything.” “You pay off the cops?” “We used to host these fights in Rolla, but the cops there were total pricks. The ones here in our tiny town

are a bit more… persuasive.” I scan her face again, staring directly at her big, bruised eye. “Do you fight, too?” I ask in surprise. “I like to hit the gym with the guys every now and then,” she says, nodding her head. “I’m not super competitive about it though. I just think it’s fun. You should try it sometime. There’s nothing like it.” “I think I’ll pass,” I say, staring at the purple ring around her eye. “Suit yourself.” She looks back to the fight in progress. “Excuse me. It looks like he’s gonna tap out…” My eyes fall back to the ring and sure enough, the fighter on the floor taps furiously against his opponent’s knee.

The opponent, clad in white, bloodsplattered shorts, has him pinned to the floor with his knee pressed against his throat. Silence falls on everyone, leaving the sound of gurgling in the air. Amy enters the ring and shoots a warning glance at the fighter on top. He lingers on the other fighter’s throat, seemingly disinterested in his plight, and puts a little more force on his body before bouncing off of him. I inhale deep, not realizing that I was holding my breath the entire time. A few guys enter the ring to the help the beaten boy off the floor while the winner in blood-splattered shorts walks around the ring with his red fists held high, drawing the shouts of the satisfied

crowd. “That’s another win for Pike the Punisher, last year’s reigning Alpha from St. Louis!” Amy shouts, gesturing towards the fighter as he steps off the stage. I watch with wild adrenaline, sliding further into the crowd, closing in on the stage with a morbid curiosity. Amy signals to the crowd to silence them. “It’s the final fight of the night, folks,” she begins. The crowds goes wild, firing off shouts of excitement and disappointment at the idea of their fun ending so soon. “But it’s the one you’ve all been waiting for!” She points to the left as a fighter enters the ring. He’s as short as I am, but built like a truck from head to toe.

“In this corner, we have Burt the Brute from Jefferson City!” This fighter is obviously popular, as the crowd begins a loud and slow chant of his name as he paces around the stage. “And in this corner,” Amy continues, pointing to the right. She waits a moment and the crowd goes silent again. “We have our very own, Tobias the Untouchable!” I freeze and my eyes fall on him as he steps into the ring. The piercing shouts for him rattle my ears, far louder than any other fighter so far. Tobias stands still, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black shorts. My eyes once again take in his body. The bruises

have faded to a subtle blue, but I can’t say the same about his thick muscles. I bite my inner cheek, completely entranced by him. He doesn’t pace back and forth like the others to draw the crowd’s attentions. He lets them come to him, his face frozen solid like a marble statue, and the crowd adores him for it. Amy backs out of the ring and closes the cage behind her. She grabs a whistle hidden on a chain around her neck and brings it to her lips. A sudden wave of fear trembles me. Blood still lies splattered beneath their feet inside the cage. I look up at Tobias again, remembering the mess of a fight I witnessed just moments before. I want to shout out and stop him, but it

wouldn’t do any good in a crowd as loud as this. Amy blows the whistle and the fight begins. Burt moves in fast, his fists knocking blows at Tobias with hard precision. Tobias stands his ground, blocking each one of them, keeping his hands in front of his face at all times. “Come on, pretty boy!” Burt cries out above the crowd. “Let me mark up that handsome face!” He lands a punch against Tobias’ already bruised ribs. Then another. And another. I see Tobias pushing out his hips, allowing for the Brute’s fists to rough him up. He doesn’t even flinch. He waits with wide eyes until Burt drops his

form. It’s only for a brief moment, but it’s long enough for Tobias to strike. His bare fist connects with Burt’s jaw, sending him backward into the fence. He hits him again with a flurry of moves, almost moving fast enough to be a human blur. Burt stumbles forward and shoves Tobias backward. Tobias moves out of the way, but keeps a tight grip on the Brute’s arm. He swings him around and slams his knee into Burt’s stomach, sending him toppling to the floor. I stand on my tippy-toes, begging to get a closer look at them both, but I can barely see what’s happening. The next thing I know, Tobias is on his knees, somehow knocked down by a sneak

attack from Burt. I cringe as Burt digs his sharp nails into Tobias’ back. Tobias twists around to break free of him and slams Burt backward against the cage again. His fists collide with Burt’s face and a red mist spills into the air. The crowd screams for him and chant’s Tobias’ name over and over again until Burt tumbles to the mat in a silent clump. I stand still with shaking knees, watching Tobias’ dark face. His eyes twitch back and forth behind his fists, still raised in a fighting stance, waiting for Burt to get back up. But Burt doesn’t move. Amy climbs into the ring and taps Burt’s cheek. “Aye, Burt!” she shouts.

A few seconds pass and finally, Burt’s eyes flutter open. He raises his fist, but it quickly drops back down and he taps against the mat. Amy jumps back to her feet. “And we have a winner!” The room crashes with excitement. They reach out and grip the cage, shaking it back and forth so much it may collapse. Tobias drops his fists and steps out of the ring without saying a word. I look for him, but somehow, I lose track of him as he drifts off into the roaring crowd. ***

I step outside and take a long, deep breath. I’ve lived in the city my entire life. I like to consider myself pretty well-versed with the world, but I’ve never seen anything quite as brutal as that before. My fingers shake. My teeth chatter. Part of me wants to run away and never look back, but another part of me wants to see it all over again. I can’t help myself. Adrenaline rocks my nerves, reacting to the frightening display of power I just witnessed. I look around the parking lot and watch as the excited people climb into their cars and race away. My eyes fall on a motorbike near the back of the building and I wonder how I didn’t notice it when I first came in.

Tobias’ bike. I walk over to it and reach out to run my quivering fingers along the handlebars. The cool metal touch shoots through my skin, traveling up my fingers to ignite my digits. “So, what are you in for?” I look up to see Amy standing in front of me wearing a long, black coat to cover her exposed skin. “What?” I ask. “What are you in for?” she asks again. “I don’t know what you mean.” She rolls her eyes and steps forward. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows Charlie takes in troubled strays,” she says. “Is it booze? You seem like a booze girl. No offense. Or drugs? Weed?

Heroine?” She gasps. “Meth? This is Missouri, we’re kinda known for that here.” I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I’m just visiting my uncle for the summer.” “Bullshit,” she smiles and raises her hands, “but I won’t press it.” I clear my throat. “So, you run this stuff?” I ask, shifting the focus. She grins and performs an exaggerated curtsy. “Guilty.” “No offense, but… how?” Amy licks her lips and stands up a little taller. “It’s my birthright,” she says. “My mother founded this branch of the Midwest Alphas nearly fifteen years ago and now, it’s mine.” “The Midwest Alphas?” I ask.

“There are four branches in the state; St. Louis, Jefferson City, Springfield, and here,” she explains. “Each year, we stage an underground tournament for local fighters to show their stuff. The fighters travel around between branches and participate in fights chosen at random. They get defeated once, and they’re out for good until the next year. Eventually, only two remain and the winner becomes the Alpha. It’s a fun tradition — one that brings me lots and lots of cold, hard cash. The final battle is in two weeks in St. Louis. You should come. The more people that do, the merrier my wallet is.” “Maybe…” I chew on my lip.

“Your cousin is the local favorite to win it all, but he’s got some pretty stiff competition to get through before then.” “Really?” She nods. “Anyway, I have to get going. There’s a half-naked, sweaty man waiting at my door as we speak.” She presses her fingers against her lips and blows me a kiss. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight,” I say as I watch her stride across the parking lot. She passes by the school’s entrance as Tobias steps outside. He’s fully clothed now, his body covered in a shirt, his jacket, and some tight jeans. He walks down the stairs with his head down, ignoring the shouts of those driving by that recognize him. Underground fame and glory.

Amy stalls beside him and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Nice moves tonight, Toby,” I hear her say. Tobias reaches out and wraps his fingers around her wrist. He speaks to her with a hushed tone, his eyes staring into her bruised face. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” She smiles back at him with a dismissive chuckle and pulls her hand away. “Sorry, Toby,” she says. “You had your chance.” “Amy—” he growls. “Goodnight!” she sings as she continues on towards the parking lot. I blink when I see the rather expensive looking sports car she climbs into. Maybe this gig really is profitable for

her. Tobias watches her go for a few moments before finally turning back towards his motorbike. “That was quite impressive,” I say to him as he travels closer. He stops in his tracks and he fires up at me with angry eyes. “What the hell are you doing out here?” he growls, adjusting his pace to take wider strides in my direction. “Amy invited me,” I say. I step away from him, but he quickly bridges the small gap between us. “How do you know Amy?” he asks. I shrug. “I met her in the market.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m officially uninviting you. You can’t be

here.” “What are you gonna do?” I ask him. “Tattle on me?” “I mean it — this isn’t the place for you.” The anger in his eyes burns my skin. It reminds me of the night I met him and how his furious demeanor jolted me to the core. “It’s not like I’ve never seen a bum fight before,” I joke. “Tobias…” His eyes fall over my shoulder, following the deep voice that spoke his name. There’s a subtle shift in his gaze as his anger turns to fear. “Get behind me,” he whispers. “What?” I ask. I start to look over my shoulder, but he grips my arm to stop

me. “Claire, get behind me.” He moves with a quick jerk, sliding himself in front of me before I can say another word. “Well, well, well…” I follow the voice and peak around Tobias’ thick shoulder to see a fighter walking towards us in street clothes. I recognize his face immediately: Pike the Punisher. The winner with the bloodstained shorts. He grins at Tobias with perfect teeth. “I thought you would have been knocked out of the bracket by now, Tobias,” he says. Tobias keeps his arm back to hold me in place behind him. “Sorry to disappoint you, Pike,” he says.

Pike cranes his neck to get a better look over Tobias’ shoulder. His eyes fall on me and I feel Tobias grip my arm a little tighter. “And who is this?” he asks. “She’s nobody,” Tobias spits. “She don’t look like nobody to me.” Pike licks his lips at me. “What’s your name, darling?” he asks. “She’s not from around here—” “It’s Claire,” I interrupt. Tobias’ head jerks back to scold me and I immediately feel like I’ve made a huge mistake. “Claire…” Pike tastes my name. “I like it.” He takes a step closer with wide eyes, scanning my face as if to memorize it. “I’ll see you next week, Tobias,” he mutters, still staring at me. “Keep

fighting like that and it should be you and me in the ring together soon.” “Looking forward to it,” Tobias says. He nods at me before turning away and walking towards his car. Once he’s gone, Tobias spins around and pulls me in closer. “Stay away from him,” he seethes. “Why—?” “Claire.” His grip loosens, but his eyes keep their hold on me. I search his intense gaze and feel the emotion behind his words. “Okay,” I say, nodding my head. “I’ll stay away from him.” He drops my arm and takes a quick step back. “How did you get out here?”

he asks. “I… uh,” I give a short smile, cowering a little bit. “I stole Charlie’s truck.” He tilts his head in annoyance and heaves a thick sigh.

Chapter 5 Now Hit Me “Why do you call yourself Tobias the Untouchable?” He looks over at me from the driver’s seat of Charlie’s truck. “I don’t,” he replies. His eyes drift back to the road. “They do.” “Then why do they call you Tobias the Untouchable?” It’s obvious that Tobias doesn’t want to answer my questions, but I can’t stand this silence. We’ve been on the highway for over ten minutes and we’re

coming dangerously close to the farm. I know that once we get there, it’ll be back to business as usual and I don’t want that. Business as usual is strange and lonely. “No one’s been able to touch my face,” he answers. “That’s it?” I ask. He shrugs. “That’s it.” “How long have you been fighting?” “A few months.” I turn to look at him, my eyes drawn to his face. It is indeed clean, with no marks or visible scarring of any kind, not like Pike or Burt or even myself. Then I remember the bruises on his chest and ribs. “You leaned into those hits,” I

say. “I saw you.” “Well, if I get hit in the face, then my dad will notice.” I nod, easily imagining the kind of reaction Charlie would have to this sort of thing. “I won’t tell him,” I say. Tobias looks at me again. “Thank you,” he says. “And… in exchange, I expect you not to tell him that I took off.” “And stole his truck.” “Well…” I nod. “Yeah. That, too.” “Just don’t do it again,” he warns. “You’re biting the hand that feeds you.” “He lets me feed myself actually,” I chuckle. “This isn’t funny.” “I know.” I tighten my lips. “I’ll be

good. Besides, I won’t be here much longer anyway.” “Where you going?” he asks. “Back to Chicago. I turn eighteen soon and they can’t keep me here against my will.” His eyes linger on me a little longer before returning back to the road. A thick-aired silence falls on us again. I wait, hoping that he’ll break it, but he keeps his eyes forward. “So…” I mutter. “Did he tell you why I’m here?” I ask. His hand shifts on the steering wheel. “He said you were a complicated young woman,” he answers. “That’s it?” I ask. He shrugs. “That’s it.” I bite my lip, wondering if I should say something more, but he continues on. “But that’s

just old cop talk for sex and drugs. I didn’t ask any questions.” My cheeks fall pink and I hope that it’s not noticeable in the dark. “That’s about it, I guess. Well, one more than the other.” I feel his eyes on me, but he says nothing. “Drugs,” I say quickly. “Obviously,” he says. I raise an eyebrow. “Obviously?” I repeat. “A more mature woman wouldn’t be so embarrassed at the accusation of having sex.” “I’m not embarrassed…” I sigh. “We never even went all the way.” “We?” he asks. I hesitate with trembling lips. “Rick and me.”

Tobias’ eyes go wide and his lips curl. “You were dating your stepbrother?” I shake my head. “No. We were just… jeez, I don’t know. Having fun, I guess. I knew it was wrong, but he was… persuasive.” “Well, that explains their reaction then,” he mutters. “We almost…” I let the words fall, “but we got caught.” “And they sent you here?” “Yeah.” “Seems a little extreme.” “It didn’t help that we took off afterward and got busted by the cops with drugs and booze.” Tobias shakes his head. “Yeah, that

sounds like Rick.” “He never mentioned you,” I say. “We haven’t seen each other in years,” he explains, “but you hear things about family, you know.” “Yeah.” My eyes fall to his hand on the wheel and I notice it gently twitching in the passing streetlights. “I guess that makes us step-cousins or whatever, if that’s even a thing.” “Guess so.” His eyes flick in my direction and fall to my split lip. “Is he the one that gave you that?” I bite my cheek. “It was an accident.” “An accident?” “It was my fault.” “Things like that don’t just

accidentally happen, Claire.” “Well, this one did.” He looks back at the road and doesn’t reply. I watch him slide his hands across the steering wheel. They shiver and shake, the tremble traveling up his arms. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Yeah,” he answers quickly, following my eyes. “I just get a little revved up after a fight, is all.” I nod and turn back to the road. Shortly after, the farm comes into view. Tobias flicks the headlights off as we slowly approach the house and park the truck in its spot. I help him roll his motorbike out of the truck bed and he pushes it towards the barn. “Your dad’s a heavy sleeper,” I

note as I pull the barn door open. “He wasn’t always, that’s for sure,” he says as we step inside. I slowly close it again, shutting the both of us inside as he reaches up and flicks on the lights above us. “I think his cop senses have dwindled over the years.” “Did you do a lot of sneaking out when you were growing up?” I ask. He slips the kickstand down and leaves the bike against the wall. “Not really,” he says. “You should go get some sleep. It’s late.” “What are you going to do?” He points across the room and my eyes fall on the punching bag. “I need to work off some stuff,” he says. I recall his adrenaline-wrecked

hands and nod. “Can I watch?” I ask. He pulls in a sharp inhale, his lips ready to say no, but he pauses instead. “Why do you want to?” he asks. My memory wanders back to the fight and I can feel my heart pump a little faster. “It… I don’t know.” I look at my feet. “I just kind of liked it, I guess.” Once again, my cheeks fall pink. I expect him to laugh at me, to tell me to go away and leave him alone, but he doesn’t. “Have you ever thrown a punch before?” he asks instead. I shake my head. “No.” He slips his jacket off and hangs it over his bike’s seat. “Hold up your fists,” he says. “What?” I ask, my eyes snapping up

from his tight, black t-shirt. “Hold up your fists,” he repeats, standing in front of me. I bend my elbows slowly and raise my hands. My fingers curl down around my thumb and he shakes his head. “Keep the thumb on the outside, like this—” He reaches out and takes my hand. His touch sends a shock wave up my arm as he positions my thumbs correctly. “Never wrap your fingers around it. The impact could break your thumb,” he explains. I nod my head slowly. “Okay.” “Hold your wrist straight. Don’t let it bend.” His fingers move up my arm as he speaks and shivers explode up my spine. “Okay…” I wish I could say

something else, but my tongue runs on auto-pilot as my blood rushes elsewhere. He staggers his feet and looks down at mine. “Put your right foot forward and bend your knees a little — like mine.” I do as he says, suddenly feeling very aware of the new, awkward movements. “This feels weird,” I chuckle. “It will, at first,” he nods. His hands fall to my elbows and he lifts them higher so my fists block my cheeks. “Always protect your face. Keep your chin down.” I look to the floor. “Like this?” He brushes a hand beneath my face

and raises my chin a few inches. “Like that,” he says. After a quick glance down my body, he nods. “Good. Now hit me.” “Hit you?” I ask. “Like… in the face?” He chuckles. “No, here.” He taps a hand against his strong chest. “Are you sure?” I hesitate. “Do it.” I bite my lip, wincing at the idea of striking another person. He looks at me with expectant eyes and I force myself to jab forward. My wrist collapses against his thick pecks and falls back to my side. “That was pitiful,” he jokes. “Come on! Straighten your wrist. This time, let your right foot slide forward while your left pushes off the floor.”

“Do what now?” I ask, looking down at my feet. He smiles and steps behind me. “The power of the punch comes from your hip, not your arm,” he says. I feel his hands on my waist and he pivots me with a quick jerking motion. “Lean into it and snap it back. Don’t let your arm linger.” He returns to his spot in front of me. “Again.” I look at his chest and take aim at him. “Protect your face.” I raise my hands higher and inhale a quick breath to calm my quaking nerves. My toes tingle in my shoes as I push against my left foot and lean forward into my right. I twist my body and throw

a second punch. It connects with him, this time with a firmer smack. “Again,” he says. I jab, hitting him a little harder. “Again.” I pivot sharply, feeling more strength surge through the punch before it connects with his chest. I pause, my arm shaking. “Snap it back. Again.” I raise my fists and throw one last punch. It strikes him perfectly and I immediately fall back into a fighting position, ready to jab again. “Good,” he finally says. My breath rattles through my lungs. Power charges up my limbs. I let my hands drop to my sides, but I can’t stop

the twitching in my fingers. “Thank you,” I breathe. “Knowing how to throw a punch is an essential skill,” he shrugs. “Kind of like knowing how to change a tire or how to hard-boil an egg.” “I don’t know how to do either of those things,” I chuckle. “Well, now you know how to throw a punch.” My lips twitch. “Can I do it again?” I ask. He gestures to the punching bag. “Knock yourself out.” I move in closer and stand in front of it. It feels so strange to roll my hands into fists with the intent to hit something, but it feels better than being on the

receiving side of it. It almost feels like I’m learning how to use my hands for the first time. I hold them up in front of my face and lash out with one quick punch. My senses tingles throughout my body as the satisfying smack fills my ears. “Claire,” Tobias says, “did Amy mention to you how she got those bruises?” I drop my hands and look back at him. “She said she got them at the gym during a boxing lesson,” I shrug. “Why?” “Just curious,” he mutters as he looks me up and down. His eyes once again lock on my lip. “You should keep practicing.” I look at my pink knuckles, my heart racing. It’s a new sensation buzzing

through my veins, an elixir of power and adrenaline. I honestly can’t say why it’s affecting me so much, but at the same time, I have a pretty good idea. I grip my wrist trying to steady myself, but I can’t seem to calm my nerves. “Claire, you okay?” Tobias asks. I look up at him, taking in his sharp, green eyes as they stare down at me with concern. “Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just a little revved up, I guess.” I swallow my spit down to wet my dry throat. “I know how you feel,” he says. He takes my wrist and presses his fingertips into my skin, massaging the muscles within. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes.” “What do you usually do to wind

down after a fight?” I ask. Tobias flexes his jaw. His moving fingers pause on my skin before he lets me go completely. “Something I can’t do right now,” he whispers, staring into my eyes. He turns away and grabs his jacket off the motorbike. “You should get inside.” I step closer to him, reacting to a driving, physical need to be near him. “Tobias…” I whisper. He reaches for me and grips my shoulders. “Claire,” he says. “Go.” I see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want me to leave. He wants me to stay with him. It’s how he’s always looked at me, ever since the moment we met just over a year ago.

Rick. I pull away from Tobias and my heart lurches in my breasts. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I have to…” I don’t say another word. I turn around and grip the barn door to pull it open. Everything inside of me hurts. Pangs of guilt and betrayal strike me down. I shake my head to ward off the confusion trapped inside of it. Tobias is not Rick. He’s Rick’s cousin. They’re nothing like each other. Rick is firm, but kind to me. He’s fun and free. Sure, he has a temper, but what man doesn’t? Everything he’s done has been because he loves me. He told me that himself. He’s my black-haired, blue-eyed, bad

boy. I’m counting down the days until I see him again. Tobias is nothing like him. He’s just another good old boy from the country. Or rather, that’s who I thought he was at first. After tonight, I’m not so sure anymore. His bruises. His tattoos. All of it shows a very different picture than the one his father painted for me. I stare out my bedroom window, hoping to catch another peak at him when he finally comes out of the barn, but sleep claims me before I can see him again.

Chapter 6 It’s Tradition A knock strikes the front door and my eyes drift slowly to the clock on the wall. It’s six-thirty in the morning and I can barely even keep my eyes open. Who could possibly be at the door at six-thirty in the morning? Charlie stands up from the kitchen table and sets his plate by the sink before wandering into the living room. “Hi, Mr. Eastwood!” My ears perk to hear Amy’s highpitched voice carrying through the house.

“Good morning, Amy,” Charlie greets. “What brings you all the way out here so early?” I lean back in my chair to get a better view of the front door. I can just barely see her in front of Charlie; tall, perfectly-styled blonde-hair, and long legs poking out of the bottom of her skirt. I’ve never quite understood how girls like her pull it off while making it look so easy. “Well,” she grins and holds up a large, brown envelope, “my father got those documents you needed and his paralegal is out sick with rabies or whatever, so he asked me to deliver it for him on my way in to work today.” Charlie takes the envelope.

“Rabies?” he asks. “Or mono or strep,” she shrugs. “One of those things.” He steps back, leaving the door open. “I’ve got something for him, too, if you don’t mind delivering it for me.” “No problem, Mr. Eastwood,” she says as she waltzes inside. “Be right back.” Charlie turns around and walks up the stairs towards his room. Amy’s big, blue eyes drift around the living room once before finally falling on me. “Oh, hey!” she squeaks and rushes into the kitchen. “How you doing, Claire?” “I’m fine…” I mutter, pushing through a yawn.

“You are not a morning person, are you?” she asks as she sits down in Charlie’s chair across from me. “Not really.” I get a better look at her and notice a fresh brush hovering above her cheekbone. “Another boxing accident?” I ask. “Hmm? Oh—” She touches her pink cheek. “Yeah. Dodging is not my strongest suite. Do you mind?” she asks as she slides my plate closer to her. She doesn’t wait for an answer before she snatches a slice of my half-eaten toast off of it. “Not at all,” I chuckle. “So, what documents are you delivering?” Amy shrugs. “Something lawyer related. I didn’t ask.”

“Your dad is a lawyer?” She nods, chewing silently on my toast. “What kind of lawyer?” “Malpractice.” I tap my fingernail on the table and glance out the window. “Interesting…” “If you say so,” she says, rolling her eyes. “So, are you coming tonight?” I quickly shoot a look over my shoulder, searching for Charlie. “What’s tonight?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Amy takes the hint and lowers her own. “There’s a fight just outside Jefferson City. Didn’t Tobias tell you?” I shake my head. “I haven’t seen him since the last one a week ago. I think he’s avoiding me…”

“Elimination round,” she says, shaking with excitement. “You have to be there. I’ll pick you up.” I sit back and my mind shifts into its old habits. Plotting and planning. Coming up with fun, new ways of sneaking out of the house undetected and getting back without my mother or stepfather finding out. It’s a rush, to say the least, but a hard, cold feeling nestles into my gut. “I’m… not supposed to leave the farm,” I tell her. Amy leans forward and her smile widens. “I knew you weren’t just here to visit your uncle.” She drops the rest of the uneaten toast back onto my plate as Charlie’s boots come bounding down the stairs.

“Here you go,” he says as he enters the kitchen. Amy stands up and takes the stack of papers from him. “I’ll deliver them right away, Mr. Eastwood,” she says. “Thank you, Amy. Oh—” He pauses and points to his face. “Are you all right?” She laughs and brushes a hand through the air. “Just another little boxing mishap. No biggie.” I stand up quickly. “I’ll walk you out, Amy.” Charlie regards us with suspicion, but says nothing as I follow Amy outside onto the front porch. I wait until we’re near her car, far from his ears, before speaking again. “I

want to go tonight,” I tell her. “Of course you do,” she says as she slides a pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses onto her nose. “Just get to the end of the driveway by nine-thirty and I’ll take care of the rest.” I nod as she lowers herself into her shiny and clean sports car. “Thanks,” I tell her. She presses her fingers against her lips and blows me a kiss before taking off down the driveway. I turn back to the house and my eyes are instantly drawn towards Tobias’ window. It’s been several days since Tobias taught me how to punch, but the memory is still very vivid in my head. I haven’t seen him since. I hear him sometimes.

I’ll hear the thumping of his feet upstairs while I’m in the kitchen or the roaring of his motorbike speeding down the driveway while I’m in the horse stables. Wherever I am, he’s not there. I’m beginning to think our paths haven’t crossed again on purpose. Maybe it’s better that way. “Time to get to work, Claire!” I jolt at the sound of Charlie’s stern voice on the porch. “All right, all right…” I call as I step back towards the house. *** “So, are you like, a prisoner?” I roll down the window and let the

warm, summer breeze strike my cheeks. “Sometimes feels that way,” I tell Amy. “But technically not, I guess.” She pushes down on the gas pedal and swerves into the left lane to pass a slow-moving pick-up truck. It shakes me to the side and my seatbelt digs into my chest. “Sorry,” she mutters unapologetically. “Well, I can honestly tell you that if getting sent to hang out with Charlie for the summer was your only punishment — for whatever it is you did — you got off pretty light.” “Did I?” I ask. “Oh yeah.” Amy grabs a bottle of water from the cup holder and drops the wheel to untwist the cap. The car gently glides to the side of the road and I feel

another wave of nausea. “Charlie is a super nice guy — and he gets plenty of bonus points for being a silver fox.” I chuckle. “I don’t see it, but I’ll take your word for it.” “You don’t?” she asks, jerking the car back into the lane. “He’s a total Clooney.” I shake my head, silently smiling. “Well, if Charlie doesn’t strike your fancy, then Tobias surely does.” She groans softly and uses her hand to fan herself. “I’ve seen worse,” I mutter. “I’d kill to be in your position again.” “Again?” Her eyebrows bounce in the dark. “He and I have spent a little time

together,” she says with a purposeful inflection. “But it never really went anywhere.” “Really?” “Oh yeah.” She stops and cringes with a quick glance in my direction. “Oh, I’m talking about your cousin, aren’t I? Whoops, my bad.” “Just through marriage,” I explain. “My mother married his uncle.” “Good for you then,” she teases with a wink. “How long have you known him?” I ask to shift the subject elsewhere. Amy hits the gas again for apparently no real purpose other than to go very, very fast. “A long time. Ten years, ish. We went to high school

together.” “Has he always been so…?” “Brooding?” she completes, flashing me a smile. “Yes.” “Pretty much.” I look out the window and watch the empty fields shoot by in silence. It seems like I learn something new about Tobias every day, something that makes him a little more intriguing to me. “Speak of the devil…” Amy adjusts her rear view mirror. I spin around in my seat to see a motorbike speeding towards us on the dark highway. “That’s him?” I ask. “Yep, that’s him,” she grins. Her finger presses a button and her window

slides down. As Tobias passes, she sticks her head out the window and lets out a piercing holler. “To-bi-aaas!” She honks her horn wildly, but he doesn’t even look over at us as he speeds down the road. I chuckle at her as she rolls the window back up. *** I look around the gym and see plenty of familiar faces. Tonight’s fight isn’t taking place at a secret, underground ring like the one before. This one is in a legit boxing club in the center of town. There’s a sense of urgency about it, like we could be busted

by the local police at any moment, but this just adds to the adrenaline buzz pumping through my veins. My eyes roam the crowd; their faces red with excitement. It’s strange to think that these are just normal people during the day, but at night, they’re here, eager for blood. Even my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I glance around, in search of his face. “You okay?” Amy asks me, a permanent giggle on her tone. I nod quickly. “Yeah, why?” “You look tense.” She stuffs some dollar bills into her glass jar and waves a few more people inside. “Just excited, I guess.” I lean closer to the wall near the door.

“Good!” she shouts. “Tonight is going to be wild!” The door near me flies open and a large man steps inside. I recognize him immediately and I hear Tobias’ voice in my head. Stay away from him. “Pike!” Amy greets him with excitement. “It’s about time. I almost counted you tardy.” “You know me, Amy,” he growls as he slaps money into her palm. “Unfortunately,” she quips. He reaches a thick hand around her and forces her body against his. The entirety of his palm covers her rear as he gives her cheek a firm squeeze. “That’s not what you said last time!” he laughs.

Anger boils in me, but Amy’s face splits with a loving smile. “I’ve said many things to you, Pike.” “Say more tonight,” he replies. “Win your fight and we’ll see,” she teases as she glides back. His hand drops from her ass and he turns away, his gaze falling right in my direction. “Claire…” he says with curling lips. I push my back so hard against the wall, it feels like I might fuse with it. “Hey,” I say. He lays his hand near my head on the wall behind me. I recoil as his body odor invades my nose. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight…” “Pike!” Amy shouts. “Locker room.

Now.” He turns away from me and looks down at Amy. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. His eyes scan my body from head to toe before he finally walks away towards the back of the gym. “That was impressive…” I say to Amy. She shrugs as she quickly flips through a bundle of bills to face them all in the same direction. “I’m an Alpha Dame, Claire,” she says. “No one fucks with an Alpha Dame.” “Really?” “Oh yeah. You show disrespect to one of us and you have every fighter in her league on your doorstep the next morning — and they ain’t there for board

games, if you get my meaning.” I nod slowly. “Sounds like a nice gig.” “It’s the best job in the world.” “So grabbing your ass in public doesn’t count as disrespecting you?” I ask. “That was personal business,” she winks and spins on her thick heels towards the door to greet a few more new arrivals. “Right…” I chuckle with amusement and look back to the ring as the cheers from the crowd fill my ears. A woman steps into the boxing ring, drawing the attentions of everyone in the room. Her long, red hair flows down to her navel like a cartoon mermaid while

her thick breasts beg to explode out of her tight, leather-bound top. She points a single finger and slowly brings it to her lips. The entire room falls into a dead silence. “Greetings, ladies and gentleman!” she calls. The crowd cries out in response, but quickly dies back down again. “Who’s that?” I whisper to Amy. “That is Lillian Tombs.” “Is that her real name?” I ask. “Doubtful,” she replies. “But that’s what we call her. She runs the St. Louis branch and oversees the activities of the entire operation. If we had a monarchy, she’d be queen. My mother and her were besties before she died.” “I’m sorry…”

She dismisses the remark with a wave of her hand. “Lillian never shows up to fights outside of her branch, so this is a big deal…” “Are all these branches run by women?” Amy nods with smiling eyes. “It’s tradition.” I look to the ring as Lillian’s voice pulls me back in. “Six fighters. Three fights,” Lillian says with a commanding, warrior princess-like tone. “After hearing about the talent displayed so far this year, I just had to come down here and see what the hell y’all were squawking about.” She grins widely and the crowd laughs with her. “And now that I’ve snuck a peak in

the locker room, well…” Her eyebrow peaks. “I may just have to spend the night.” Behind her, the fighters climb into the ring among the satisfied calls of the audience. All six of them, Tobias included, stand tall, wearing nothing but shorts and sweat. “Three of you,” Lillian continues, her eyes snapping to each of them as she glides around the ring, “will go home victors tonight. The other three… will just go home.” My eyes move across their faces, each fighter a little more daunting than the last. They all bare their teeth in efforts to look menacing and scary — all but Tobias, that is. He stands there, dark

and silent, with his head held down and his arms crossed over his chest. I feel a spike of fear for him; a sheep surrounded by wolves. Or is he also a wolf, cleverly disguised in sheep’s clothing? “Our first match is between one of mine and one of yours…” Lillian teases. She moves down the line, her finger sliding across each of their chests as she goes. Tobias doesn’t budge when she touches him, firm as stone. She stops in front of Pike and gently digs her blackpainted finger nail into his chest. “Pike the Punisher!” she calls out, driving the noise of the crowd, while Pike flexes for them. “And…” She steps to the next man in line and stops in front of him.

“Freddy the Freak!” Freddy shivers with purpose, forcing his bright green mohawk to shift about on his head, and sticks his tongue out to excitedly wag it around. Lillian throws her head back and laughs. “The rest of you will just have to wait your turn…” She steps towards the ropes. “Enough stalling!” she cries. “Let’s see some fights!” Hands wave into the air and feet stomp loudly as they step out of the ring, leaving Pike and Freddy alone. They enter their corners and wait for Lillian to give the signal. She slides a metal whistle out from between her breasts and slips it between her teeth. I catch sight of Tobias outside the

ring. He far more focused than the rest of them with his eyes on the fight, while the others take selfies with their adoring public. It’s clear which fighters are in this for the promised underground fame and glory and which fighters are not. I search his eyes from the other side of the room and wonder what other reason Tobias has for being here. The whistle cuts the air and the fight begins. Pike darts forward immediately and aims his thick fist for Freddy’s face. Freddy slides to the side to dodge, but Pike still strikes his ear, knocking him completely off balance. He tumbles to the floor and I look away before Pike’s foot stomps down on his chest.

“You’re not going to throw up, are you?” Amy asks me. I shake my head, but I keep my eyes on the ground. “I don’t think so,” I lie. She pats me on the back. “I remember feeling queasy at my first fights, too. It passed. Now, I just get so turned on, I don’t know what to do with myself.” “You’re a very strange person…” I joke. “Oh, please…” She licks her lips. “Don’t act like you’re immune to this.” I flash back to the night in the barn and I remember how satisfying it felt to feel my fist connect with Tobias’ chest. My entire body quivered after that. His power and strength were almost too

much for me. It overwhelmed all other senses, leaving me broken and confused, but intrigued to the core. My eyes flick back to the ring just as Freddy performs a solid jump kick against Pike’s chest, sending him stumbling back against the ropes. He bounces off of them and uses the momentum to send a vicious uppercut into Freddy’s gut. I can hear the wind escaping his lungs from all the way over here. The screaming horde jumps up and down as Freddy falls to the floor and doesn’t get back up. Pike takes great delight in grabbing his hand off the mat and watching it drop back down without resistance. Freddy is out cold.

Lillian steps into the ring and calls the match in Pike the Punisher’s favor. “That’s how we fight in St. Louis!” she cries, proud and happy. I turn away again as a few people step up to drag Freddy’s limp body out of the ring. “He’ll be fine,” Amy assures me with a friendly, soothing voice. Her eyes tell me another story. These fights are kept secret for a reason. I imagine a world of no holds barred violence results in many fighters that retire from the sport a little too early. The four remaining fighters step into the ring and Lillian takes her time revealing who will go next, teasing the crowd with her perfect stage presence as

she pokes them one-by-one. “Next… from our districts down south…” She puckers her lips and stops in front of Tobias. He stares back at her with fixed, green eyes. “Tobias…” Her hands climbs his bare body and she raises her fingers to his face, letting them hover just above the skin of his cheek, “the Untouchable…” The crowd screams for her, daring her to touch him, but she drops her hand without ever making contact. Lillian laughs and moves on to the next fighter in line. “And Marcus the Menace!” she grins and reaches out to squeeze the man’s sizable biceps. She purrs to herself and throws up her hands. “Let’s start this before I explode!”

Tobias eyes Marcus as he drifts over to his corner. I wish I knew him well enough to know what he was thinking behind his dark and rough expressions. Knowing would probably make me feel a little less terrified right now. Lillian blows the whistle again and my heart skips a beat. I stare at Tobias, preparing for him to strike, but he doesn’t move from his corner. He lurks there in his fighting pose, calmly bouncing on his toes as his eyes watch Marcus shift towards him. “What’s he doing?” I ask out loud. “Classic Tobias…” Amy grins. “He never throws the first punch.” I remember the bruises splattered

across his abdomen and nausea washes over me again. Marcus is huge — much larger than Burt the Brute was. If Tobias leans into the punches like he did last time, he may not get back up again. Marcus pulls back his fist and my eyes clench shut just before it reaches Tobias’ face. The screaming crowd erupts in thunderous applause and I force my eyes open to see what’s happened. Tobias dodged the attack and somehow managed to bring Marcus to his knees. He grips Marcus’ arm and twists it back to keep Marcus in a painful hold. I take a quick step forward, entranced by the sudden turn of events. “See?” Amy teases me. “I told you

you’re not immune to this...” I keep my focus on Tobias, completely taken in by him and the darkness in his eyes. They suddenly flick in my direction, drawn to me as much as mine are to his, and turn soft for the slightest of moments as he recognizes my face across the room. Then, Marcus strikes. He turns quickly, taking Tobias completely off guard and slamming him down against the mat. A few faces in the crowd spin around in my direction, each of them wondering what it was that broke Tobias the Untouchable’s attentions. I ignore them and watch as Tobias takes great effort in blocking his face from Marcus’ crushing blows. It

doesn’t seem to bother Marcus much, as he quickly jumps to his feet and connects a few swift kicks with Tobias’ kidneys. Tobias rolls away from him and bounces off the floor. This time, he keeps his eyes forward, locked on the target in front of him and raises his hands up to protect his face. Marcus rushes forward and lands three quick swings against Tobias’ red ribs. He lets it happen and draws Marcus closer to sweep his legs out from under him. Marcus lurches back, but doesn’t fall until Tobias doubles around and lands a perfect roundhouse kick across his chin. Marcus’ head hits the floor and the crowd screams with delight. My body wretches from its frozen

state and I force my lungs to take in fresh air. Lillian climbs into the ring and kneels down to check on Marcus. “My god!” she cries out with a smile. “Two in a row, completely knocked cold!” The audience laughs and slowly begins to chant Tobias’ name. He turns around and finds my face again before jumping out of the ring and taking fast strides in my direction. “Good job, Toby!” Amy says to him. Tobias ignores her and walks straight at me with fierce eyes. His sweaty chest heaves up and down as he stares down at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He

lingers above me with the same heat in his eyes I saw that night in the barn when he told me to leave. Every instinct of mine tells me to step away from him, but I can’t find the will to move. I stare back at him with wide eyes, teetering on the edge of fear and excitement. Finally, he turns away and heads straight for the locker rooms at the far side of the gym without speaking. “Wow…” Amy breathes. “What?” I ask, my lips trembling. “Just… wow,” she says again. She lays her hand on my shoulder and squeezes once as Lillian blows the whistle for the third and final fight to begin. “Yeah…” I whisper, my cheeks on

fire. “Wow.” “Hey, Amy!” A man charges out of the crowd. I recognize him from the last fight. Burt the Brute, the fighter Tobias took down in under thirty seconds. “Burt!” She smiles at him to welcome his embrace, but her smile quickly disappears as he digs his grip into her. “And you’re hurting me.” “What the hell was that earlier with you and Pike?” he growls. “That,” she answers, “was business.” “Looked a little too pleasing to be business to me—” “Burt…” she mutters with a hushed tone. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re nothing but a twotiming who—” “Burt.” She interrupts him with a firm voice. “You really don’t want to do this here.” She looks over his shoulder and he turns around. I follow his gaze and notice the eyes of the crowd zeroing in on them. A few of them take warning steps towards Burt, each one of them curling their hands into fists. Burt releases her arm and stands up straight. “I guess we’ll just settle this later tonight then,” he says, breathing into her face. “That would be wise.” He spins on his feet and walks back into the crowd to watch the fight. Amy nods at the crowd and brushes her hand

through the air to signal that everything is fine. The onlookers turn back around. “Amy…” I say. “Are you okay?” She gives me a confident nod. “Nothing I can’t handle.” “Are you sure?” “Of course.” I take a step towards her. “Did he do that to your face?” I ask. She looks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t think we know each other well enough to have that conversation, Claire,” she says. I close my mouth and look back towards the fight just as one of the fighters crumbles to the floor. The remaining fighter throws up his thick hands in victory and Lillian cries out in

applause. “Danny the Devil from Springfield,” she addresses him. “You lucky bastard!” The audience laughs with her and calls Danny’s name over and over again. “Looks like the night is over, y’all!” Lillian says as she playfully wipes fake tears from her eyes. “But don’t you worry. Next week is our final elimination round! There’s just three fighters left! Will Pike remain our Alpha for another year? Or will someone new claim his title?” The room trembles as their screams echo into the night.

Chapter 7 Promise Me Again I walk up the long and dark driveway, flinching at every little sound nature makes to scare me. For some reason, wandering down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere terrifies me a lot more than the streets of Chicago in the middle of the night. Maybe it has something to do with where I’m going and who I’ll face when I get there. I reach the quiet farmhouse and hesitate outside on the porch. My blood

still pounds in my ears, filling my head with a steady drumbeat. Every time I close my eyes, I see Tobias towering above me. I’ll admit, I’m scared to face him again. There was a subtle rage behind his eyes tonight, one that I can’t ignore. The thumping in my ears becomes louder until I realize that it’s not in my head at all. I step over to the barn and slide the door open. The thumping stops and Tobias immediately abandons the punching bag to turn on me. “What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes. I slide the door closed behind me and fight my eyes from looking down at his bare torso. “I wanted to watch you

fight again.” “I told you not to.” “No,” I say. “You told me not to steal Charlie’s truck again—” “You know what I meant, Claire,” he says. “You’re gonna get us both caught if you keep sneaking out like this.” “So you’re just worried about your little secret identity then?” He pauses and turns away from me. “How did you get up there?” he asks. “Amy gave me a ride.” “When did you two become friends?” I smirk. “When did you two become lovers?” He furrows his brow. “What?”

I lean back against the door. “She said the two of you have spent time together.” His lips twitch. “She’s exaggerating.” “How so?” I ask. He brings his hand to his face and he rubs a bit of sweat off his brow. “Amy is an hour of my life I’ll never get back,” he says with amusement. “Sounds special.” “It wasn’t.” “What happened?” He stares back at me with tight lips. “Hey, I told you about Rick…” Tobias chews on his lip for a moment. “It was right after my first fight. We got a few drinks, she gave me a

hand-job, and then she passed out on her couch. I left right after.” “You’re kidding,” I chuckle. He shakes his head and grips his wrist to massage it in silence. “So you two never…?” I let the question linger. “No.” “She makes it sound like you did.” “Amy has a thing for fighters.” “Yeah, I noticed,” I scoff and cross my arms. “Looks like she has things going with quite a few of you.” “What do you mean?” “Pike was flirting with her earlier,” I recall, “and Burt didn’t seem too happy about it.” “What exactly did you see,

Claire?” Tobias asks, his voice steady as a rock. I shift on my toes. “He grabbed her arm — I don’t know, it happened pretty quickly. I did ask her if he’s the one that bruised up her face, but she wouldn’t say. She said she could handle it.” His eyes linger on the floor. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.” I furrow my brow, wanting to question him more, but I decide against it. The fresh bruises along his abdomen draw my eyes south. “You okay?” I ask him. “That guy seemed really strong…” “Yeah,” he says. I’m fine.” “Got a little scary there for a

second,” I say. “I had it under control.” “I don’t mean the fight.” He looks at me and flexes his jaw. “I wasn’t expecting you to be there,” he mutters. “You seemed…” I pause, “angry with me.” “I was.” “Like you were going to hit me—” “I’d never hit you, Claire,” he says quickly. “Are you still angry now?” He takes a long, deep breath. “No,” he finally says. I nod slowly. “Why not?” “Do you want me to be?” “No.”

He smiles and steps a little closer to me. “I have more important things to worry about than you.” I blink. “Ouch?” “It’s not meant to be an insult,” he says. “It’s just the truth.” My body trembles against the wooden door. Feeling unwanted has become a familiar feeling to me these last few weeks. My mother didn’t want to put up with me anymore. My stepfather sure as hell wanted to see me gone and jumped at the first opportunity he had to get rid of me. Charlie’s pretty good at not showing it, but I get the feeling he’d rather not have me around either. And now, it’s Tobias’ turn to reject me. I’m not sure why I’m so

surprised. Rick really is the only one that wants me around at all. “I should get inside,” I mutter. “Congratulations on your win.” He reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Claire—” I pause with my fingertips on the handle. “What?” I ask with my eyes down. “Look at me.” Hesitation takes hold of my chest. “I have to get some sleep—” He reaches out and grabs my other wrist to draw me forward. “Claire, I would never hit you,” he says. I look up into his deep, green eyes. “I want you to know that.”

His voice sends shivers down my spine. “Okay…” I whisper. He slowly drops my wrist, but I let them linger between us. “Goodnight,” he says. I leave the barn and walk silently back to the house. *** I raise the pitchfork above my head and set it back where it belongs on the wall. That’s Charlie’s number one rule, after all. Put everything back where you found it. The barn is hot and muggy. The sun blazes in the summer sky, so warm I can barely stand it, but I don’t want to take a

break. It’s just after noon and I’m not even close to being done with my chores. Let’s just say the memory of Tobias’ eyes drilling down into mine has left me feeling rather distracted the last few days. I turn to leave, but I catch sight of the punching bag in the corner once again. My feet carry me over to it. I reach out and push the leather shell with my fingers. It floats back and forth slightly but quickly comes to a stop. I ball my hands into fists, stopping for a moment to make sure my thumbs aren’t on the inside. I twist into a fighting stance, just like Tobias taught me, and throw a single, solid punch into the bag.

“Protect your face.” I drop my hands and spin around to see Tobias standing in the barn doorway. “Hey—!” I gasp. He nods and steps over to his motorbike. “Been practicing?” he asks as he reaches into his pocket for his keys. “Not really, no,” I answer. He grips the handlebars and starts to push the bike out of the barn. I follow slowly behind him. “Going out?” I ask. “It’s a little early in the day for you, isn’t it?” “I have an errand to run,” he mutters as he throws a leg over the seat and sits down. I smile and put a bad southern drawl on my voice. “Where you going?

Down to the sock hop with Sally May?” He chuckles. “Your knowledge of small town life is really outdated.” “Enlighten me then.” “Well, for starters,” he says, “we don’t do sock hops during the summer.” “Uh-huh,” I nod. “And Sally May is kind of a bitch.” I laugh. “I stand corrected.” I bite my lip. “Where else do you run off to at night?” “What do you mean?” he asks. “Well, you’re gone like every night. Fights only happen once a week. You have a girlfriend or something?” His lips curl and he leans in closer to speak at a whisper. “You know, I actually do work at the automobile

factory across town.” “No shit?” “A few nights a week,” he nods. “It’s called having a cover.” “You really do take this whole secret identity thing seriously, don’t you?” I joke. He stares back at me and offers a quick smile. It’s strange to see him in broad daylight like this. He appears brighter and warmer, almost like an entirely different person. “Here,” he says as he reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a silver device with a pair of small ear-bud headphones wrapped around it. “What’s this?” I ask as he hands it to me.

“My old music player,” he says. “Found it stashed away in a drawer. I thought you might get some use out of it.” I inspect the device, noticing the small scratches on its face. “Old being the key word,” I joke. “What is this, a generation 2?” “Hey, if you don’t want it—” “No, no,” I say, clutching it tight against my breast. “It’s fine.” “It’s better than silence,” he says. “What’s on it?” “None of that rap or princess pop you city kids are used to,” he smiles, “but put it on shuffle and you should find something you like.” “Tobias…” I twist my voice back into my awful southern impression. “Did

you make me a mix tape?” “I have to run,” he says, rolling his eyes. He shoves the key in and starts the motorbike. “Don’t let my dad see that.” “Oh, Tobias! You’re so keen!” He revs the engine loudly to cover my voice. I drop the accent. “Tobias!” The engine falls back down to a dull rumble and he glances back at me. “Thank you,” I tell him. “You’re welcome, Claire.” He slides the helmet over his head. I take a step back and let him ride away. Gravel kicks up behind him, creating a white cloud of dust that follows him all the way down to the highway. I glance back at the house, suddenly feeling like I’m holding a

nuclear bomb in my hands. I stuff the player in my jeans pocket as I quickly scan the house to make sure Charlie isn’t watching. *** “Claire—” I look up from my book. “What?” I ask. Charlie stands in the kitchen doorway with the telephone against his ear. “It’s for you,” he says as he points it at me. I set my book down on the table and stand up from my seat. “I get phone calls now?” I ask as I step closer. “It’s your mother.”

“Oh.” I pause my stride. “Can you take a message? Tell her I’m out or something.” Charlie furrows his brow and shoves the phone in my direction. “You don’t go out.” I hold out my hand and reluctantly take the phone from him. As badly as I’d like to get out of this place, talking to my mother isn’t something I’ve longed to do since she abandoned me here. The long cable bounces around as I bring the old phone to my ear. “Hello?” I mutter. “Claire, honey…” My mother speaks with a low voice, just above a whisper, almost as if she’s hiding in a closet. “How are you?” “I’m alive,” I say, offering nothing

more. “Well…” she chuckles slightly. “I know that.” “What do you want, Mom?” I catch Charlie watching me, so I step away, but I can’t get too far from him with a land line phone. “I just wanted to know how my daughter is doing,” she says. “Is that so crazy?” “I haven’t heard from you in two weeks…” She’s quiet for a moment. “Your stepfather thought it’d be a good idea to give you some space—” “Because he’s just so full of good ideas, right?” I bite. “Claire—”

“Please don’t call here again, Mom. I don’t want to talk to you.” “Honey, please—” “No,” I say. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The bad seed is finally out of your hair.” “That’s not true, Claire. I want what’s best for you. I want to keep you safe.” I scoff. “I have to go. Charlie has another menial task for me to do.” I hold out the phone and drop it into Charlie’s extended hand. He stares at me for a moment before turning around and hanging it up. “Menial?” he asks. I drag my feet back across the room to the table. “Yeah, like a servant,” I

explain. “I know what it means,” he says. “I’m just surprised you do.” I glare up at him. “Well, I’ve had plenty of time to read since I got here.” “I’ve noticed.” He walks over to the table and sits down in the chair across from me. “Claire, nothing I have you doing here is menial.” “I know,” I say. I pick up my book again. “Patience, responsibility. Work, reward. All that.” “Why are you here?” “What?” I ask. “Why are you here?” he repeats. “I’m here because my stepfather’s a dick.” He chuckles. “My brother is many

things, but this isn’t his fault. Watch your language and think again. Why are you here?” I sit back in my seat. “Because the cop that picked me up knew him.” “Getting warmer.” Charlie taps a finger on the table between us. “Why are you here?” My eyes fall to my hands. “Because,” I sigh, “I screwed up.” “That’s reason number one,” he says. “And reason number two?” “Well, there’s a banana peel out there somewhere that needs to be held accountable for a few things and you’re staying put until it does.” I stay silent. “Once we start taking responsibility for

our actions, we can start fixing our mistakes. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be, Mary.” “My name is Claire,” I say with confusion. He pauses and sits back. “Right, sorry,” he says quickly. “Who’s Mary?” I ask. He brushes a hand through the air, avoiding my eyes. “It’s not important.” I lean forward, hating the awkward silence that’s fallen between us. “How many people have you helped?” I ask him, changing my tone. “People like me.” He shrugs and reaches for his coffee mug. “More than I can count, over the years.”

“Where are they now?” “Most are fine,” he answers. “They’re clean, living normal lives somewhere.” “And the others?” He pauses. “The others… not so much. Claire, you might feel angry with your mother right now, but that’s going to pass.” “Doubt it,” I mutter. “It will,” he argues. “And when it does, you’re gonna want to make amends and do it quick. Believe me when I tell you that the worst feeling in the world is not getting to say what you need to say to someone you care about before it’s too late.” I fall silent as the words sink into

my skin. Charlie’s obviously been through a lot, far more than I have. It’s probably not wise to argue against him, no matter how pissed off I am at my mother. “How are you feeling lately?” he asks. I cross my arms. “I still have trouble sleeping.” “Do you think about using again?” “Sometimes,” I answer. “But not as much as before. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to — unless I wanted to snort sugar or something.” His lips twitch. “Well, hold onto that thought. The urges will pass eventually. You just have to channel them into something more productive until you

don’t want it at all anymore.” “Like what?” I ask. The front door opens and I hear Tobias’ boots enter the hall. I look up as he walks into the kitchen. He pauses, refusing to enter the doorway once he sees me sitting at the table. “Like your chores,” Charlie answers. “Preferably.” He stands up and steps over to Tobias in the doorway. “Any changes?” he asks him. Tobias shakes his head, his eyes briefly landing on mine. “Well,” Charlie mutters. “Maybe next time.” He turns back to me. “How about we get the horses saddled up? Go for a ride.” “Seriously?” I ask through a jolt of

excitement. “Why not? Still a bit of daylight left.” He looks at Tobias. “Wanna join us?” Tobias hesitates. “I don’t want to intrude…” “You’re not,” Charlie says. “And you’re the only one that devil horse will tolerate.” He steps around Tobias to leave room and Tobias’ eyes fall on me again. Channel my urges into something more productive. Easier said than done. *** I grip the saddle and pull myself up

with Charlie’s help. The brown horse, Leo, bucks beneath me and my stomach lurches as I dig my nails into the hard leather saddle. “Shh, boy,” Tobias whispers into Leo’s ear. He gently strokes his head and the horse calms a bit. Charlie shakes his head. “Most temperamental horse I’ve ever seen,” he mutters. “He just doesn’t like you,” Tobias jokes. “I’ve never had a problem with him.” Charlie pulls himself up into Orion’s saddle. “Claire,” he says, looking at me, “you ever ridden before?” I shake my head quickly. “No.” The horse bucks a little beneath me at the

sound of my voice. “Hmm… maybe I should take that one,” Charlie muses. “I got him,” Tobias says, gripping Leo’s reins. “I’ll walk with them for a bit. See if I can calm him down. Besides, he’ll just kick you off. He really doesn’t like you.” Charlie eyes the two of us for a moment before nodding. “All right,” he says. “Try and keep up.” “Come on, Leo,” Tobias says, tugging the reins. He starts walking us towards the fields as Charlie takes Orion ahead. “Breathe, Claire.” “What?” I squeak. “You’re holding your breath,” he laughs.

“Oh.” I let the air out of my lungs. “I’m just a little…” “Scared?” “Terrified. It’s not every day there’s a powerful, unpredictable animal between my legs.” He glances up at me and smiles. “Just hold on,” he says. “He won’t run off with me holding him like this. Try and relax. If you’re tense, he’s tense.” “Okay…” I take a deep breath and let it wash through my body to release all my locked joints and muscles. We continue walking. Every few yards, Leo lurches slightly, but Tobias easily calms him down with the touch of his hand. “Tobias the Horse Whisperer,” I chuckle.

“Eh, animals are easy,” he says. “Humans are far more dangerous.” I lick my lips and look around to locate Charlie. He’s far ahead of us, just outside of earshot distance. “So, when is your next fight?” Tobias hesitates, his eyes darting in Charlie’s direction. “Tonight,” he answers. I raise an eyebrow. “Can I come?” “No.” “Please?” “It’s too dangerous, Claire.” “I can take care of myself,” I say. “I don’t mean for you.” I pause. “What do you mean?” He sighs and brushes his fingers along Leo’s neck. “I can’t have

distractions,” he mutters. “I’m distracting?” I ask. “Yes.” He stops and looks up at me. “Claire, promise me you won’t be there.” His eyes, as intense and wild as this horse, stare up at me in desperation. He says nothing more about it, but he doesn’t need to. I realize that the reason he doesn’t want me around isn’t because he despises my company at all. It’s because he likes it. “Okay.” My lips quiver. “I won’t be there.” “Promise?” “I promise.” Tobias nods. “Slide back.” He reaches up and grabs the front of the saddle. I push back to make room for

him as he pulls himself up. “Hold onto me.” I lay my trembling hands on his waist. “Tighter,” he says, pivoting back to pull my wrists around his body. “Don’t even think about letting go—” “Tobias, what are you doing?” “Don’t panic, Claire.” “Tobias—!” He digs his ankle in Leo’s side, sending the horse into a fierce sprint. I scream and bury my face in his back as terror overwhelms me. My fingers interlock in front of him and I bind myself to his body as the gallop tosses us up and down in the saddle. The initial shock bleeds from my

system and I open my eyes to peak over Tobias’ shoulder. He’s led the horse out into the open fields. The sight steals the breath from my lungs as I scan this new world with wide eyes. I look over my shoulder to see Charlie riding behind us on the horizon, but he’s not going fast enough to keep up with us. Laughter attacks my chest and I hold Tobias a little tighter. “You okay back there?” he shouts. “I hate you so much…” He laughs and urges Leo to bolt a little faster. We circle back around and I watch the sun slowly falling down, casting the open world into a deep orange glow. I lay my head against him and listen to his

heart thump with quick and steady beats as we ride back towards the farm. “Whoa—” Tobias pulls slowly on the reins, signaling for Leo to slow down. I raise my head to find that we’ve already made it to the stables. Charlie lingers on the black horse, his face stern as ever as we draw near. “And just what was that?” he asks, staring daggers at Tobias. “He got antsy,” Tobias answers. “Needed a good run.” “Claire, you look like you’re about to hurl,” Charlie notes. “You all right?” “Nah,” Tobias says. He looks back at me. “See? She’s fine.” I catch my breath. “Let’s go again,”

I joke. Tobias pats my hands and I release him to feel my fingers have gone stiff from holding onto him too tightly. “Let’s not,” Charlie says with a soft chuckle and dismounts his horse. “Go ahead and get inside, Claire. Dinner’s in twenty.” He yanks on the reins and starts to lead Orion inside the stables. Tobias throws a leg over and hops off our horse. I smile at him, lamenting how he makes it looks so easy while I sit here, temporarily unable to remember how to move. He spins around and extends his arms out to me to help me down. I move to sit side-saddle and slowly slide towards him. His hands glide up my body, holding me steady as

if I weighed nothing at all. My feet find the ground, but my knees quickly buckle beneath me. “Whoa—” he whispers, keeping a firm grip on me to keep me standing. “Sorry,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Never ridden before…” He smiles. “You’ll be all right.” I look up at him and I suddenly realize how close we are. Our lips sit just inches apart. His breath grazes my cheeks. I bite my tongue in a futile attempt to distract myself from the beauty in his green eyes. “Claire…” he says my name, his voice low. “Yeah?” “Promise me again.”

I force my feet flat against the earth to stand on my own. “I promise, Tobias,” I say. “I won’t be there.” His hands drop and he steps away from me.

Chapter 8 Get The Blood Off I keep my promises. I lay here now, staring at the ceiling above my bed, wishing that I didn’t. Part of me wants to run downstairs, grab Charlie’s keys, and take off into town. Damn the consequences. I don’t care how angry Tobias will be. I don’t care what Charlie will do if he finds out. None of that matters right now. I can’t stop thinking about those fights. Tobias is strong — mighty, even. He took the Brute down so fast, no one

was even sure what happened until it was already done. Even the Menace couldn’t take him down and the odds were stacked against him. I’ve never known a man like Tobias before and I want to know more of him. Even if it feels like a betrayal to the man I thought I wanted before. I slide the volume up a little louder and let Tobias’ music drown out the thoughts in my head. It’s a surprising mix of 80’s glam rock and classic country hits. The more I listen to it, the more I feel like I understand a little bit more about Tobias the Untouchable. Light scans the corners of my vision. I jolt out of bed and look out the window to see Tobias’ bike riding up the

driveway. A smile touches my lips. I pull the headphones off my ears. He rolls to a stop in front of the barn and my smile slowly falls. He’s hurt. Tobias clutches his side. He just barely makes it off the bike before he tumbles to the ground outside the barn. My heart stops in my chest, but I force myself to take action. I grab my shoes, slip them on, and bolt out of my room. My feet creak the stairs, but I don’t care. There’s only one thought on my mind, the only driving force I have, and that’s him. I race across the driveway in time to see him pick himself up and lean on his bike. “Tobias, what happened?” I ask.

“Get back—!” I pull away from him, too scared to touch him. He’s wearing his jacket, so I can’t see what damage has been done. “Let me help you…” I beg. He pauses and looks up at me. Once again, his face is clean of marks or bruises, but my eyes quickly fall to the purple and red mark along his neck. “What did they do to you?” I ask, scanning his bloodshot eyes. “Help me push this…” He grips one handlebar and waits for me to swing around the bike and take the other. We push the bike into the barn together and let it tip against the wall. Tobias turns around and sits backward to lean against a hay bale in the corner. I push the barn door closed before

returning to him. “Tobias…” He’s breathing hard, struggling to sit up. “I’m fine…” “You’re not fine,” I argue. I turn back to the door. “I’m gonna get Charlie —” “No!” he hisses, stopping me in my tracks. “Claire, don’t.” “You need a hospital,” I cry. “No, I don’t. I just…” He pauses and reaches out to me. “I just need you to sit with me for a bit.” I keep on my toes, still eager to run for help. “But…” “Claire, please…” Tears sting my eyes, but I do as he asks. I walk over to him and sit down on

the ground beside him. “I don’t know what to do, Tobias,” I mutter. “Trust me,” he smiles. “I’ve had worse.” “What happened?” I ask again. He hesitates for a moment before pushing his jacket aside and raising his shirt. I gasp, covering my mouth, as he shows me the deep red markings along his side. “Got paired up with that guy from Springfield.” “The Devil guy?” He nods. “He got in a few cheap shots,” he says. “Knocked me down and beat on me before putting me in a headlock.” “Did you lose the fight?” I ask. His eyes drop and he shakes his

head. “How the hell did you get out of a headlock?” I lean forward, raise the shirt to look again, and I see the red splatter staining his inked abdomen. “Is this blood?” “Yeah,” he says, “but it’s not mine.” “Jesus, Tobias…” I whisper. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He pulls his shirt from my grasp and lays it back down. “I need the tournament money,” he says. “Do you need it more than your ability to breathe?” I bite. “Claire…” “A couple hundred bucks can’t possibly be this important.” “Not a couple hundred,” he says,

shaking his head. “Tens of thousands is up for grabs at the tournament fight next week and I intend on getting it.” “Why do you need it?” I ask. “I just do.” I sigh. “Well, I’m coming with you to the next fight.” “No.” “You’re obviously going to get your ass kicked whether I’m there distracting you or not, Tobias.” “I did not get my ass kicked—” “Either I’m going with you or I’m telling Charlie.” He grits his teeth, furious with me, but after a few moments, his eyes turn soft. “Okay,” he says, “but I don’t want you to watch.”

“Why not?” His eyes fall. “I don’t want you to see this side of me.” I lean forward and shift my knees beneath me. “Why do you care what side of you I see—” “Come on, Claire,” he says. “You’re a stupid girl, but you’re not an idiot.” A warm shiver runs up my spine as he raises his hand to my face. His trembling fingers touch my cheek, shaking from the adrenaline firing through his system. “Tobias…” “You don’t have to say anything,” he mutters. “I know how you feel about Rick.” My heart sinks as his hand drops to

his side. “I don’t give a shit about Rick right now, Tobias. I care about you.” He stares back at me with shaking eyes. “Claire—” “Kiss me, Tobias.” There’s a soft moment of hesitation before his passions pull me in. Our lips lock together, almost like they were always meant to. He grips my body, holding me close to him as he pushes himself on to his knees. He’s in pain, I can tell, but I can’t bring myself to make him slow down. I wrap my arms around his thick body and return every single one of his kisses. Suddenly, he pushes me away and holds me at arm’s length. “You need to go,” he breathes.

“Why?” I ask. “Because you’re just a kid,” he says. “No, I’m not—” “Yes, you are.” He keeps a hand on his side as he stands on his shaking feet. “I’m seventeen,” I argue. “Exactly. And we’re…” he pauses, “already too close.” I stand up. “Tobias—” “Just get out of here, Claire.” He puts a hand against the wall and tries very hard to make it look like he’s not leaning on it. “Let me help you upstairs.” “I don’t need—” “Yes, you do. You can barely walk.”

He sighs, knowing that it’s true. I step closer to him and position myself beneath his left arm. He lets me lead him out of the barn and up the porch stairs, leaning on me only when absolutely necessary. The real struggle begins on the stairs to the second floor. His weight holds me down and I can’t take my own steps up without slamming my foot down on the stairs in the process. We take it slow, hoping not to wake Charlie on the creaky, old stairwell. I breathe a thick sigh of relief when we finally reach the landing. “I can take it from here,” Tobias whispers. He pulls his arm from me and steps slowly towards his room. I linger

on him, too scared to let him go on his own. He pushes his door open and steps inside. “Tobias,” I whisper. He looks back at me. “Please let me help you.” His mouth opens, but no words come out. Finally, he moves to the side and lets me enter his room with him. He closes the door silently behind us. I look around, but I try not to stare at anything for too long. It’s the first time I’ve seen his room, although it’s exactly what I expected. Blank, white walls and simple furniture. Even his bedsheets are black, void of color. I focus on the task at hand and drift over to his dresser to look for a fresh shirt. “You should shower,” I say. “Get the blood off.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he says. I don’t argue with him. The less noise in the house right now, the better. I grab a clean shirt out of a drawer and push it closed. “Sit down,” I say. I hold him softly as he lowers himself down to his bed. I push his jacket back slowly, letting it fall down his arms while he kicks off his boots. “Can you raise your arms?” He tries and manages to hold them up for me as I bend down to pull the blood-stained shirt over his head. I look at his beaten chest again and wince with new tears in my eyes. “Claire,” he whispers, watching me closely. “I’ll be okay.” “You should see a doctor.”

“I’m fine. I just need to get some rest.” He grips my hand. “Trust me.” “I do,” I nod. “I’m still going to worry though.” He smiles. “Okay.” I take the dirty shirt and gently wipe the loose blood-splatter off his chest and arms, trying hard not to put pressure on his fresh wounds. My mind attacks me with vicious images to somehow explain how he ended up covered in blood, but I force them out and ignore them. “Raise your arms again.” I hold up the fresh shirt and slip it over his head. His hair, thick and black, gets roughed up in the process. It brings out a subtle, boyish charm, one that I can’t ignore. “I never pegged you for a Bowie fan,” I say,

shifting the subject to distract him. “What?” he asks. “Your music.” He winces as I pull his right arm through the sleeve. “Oh,” he chuckles. “I’m surprised you even know who Bowie is.” “I may be a stupid girl, but I pay attention.” He slips his other arm in. “I didn’t mean that you were stupid—” “I know.” I stop him with a smile. My eyes fall to his jeans and I pause. “Uh…” “I can do the rest myself,” he says. “Are you sure?” He nods, but I hesitate to go, still too scared to leave him alone. “Do you need an ice pack, or

—” “Claire,” he says. “Tobias the Untouchable isn’t going to die in his sleep.” I chuckle. “I thought you hated that name.” “I do,” he says, “but it made you laugh, so…” It’s a losing battle. Tobias wants to tough it out alone and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. “You promise?” I ask. “I promise,” he whispers, his eyes soft on me. “You know where I’ll be,” I sigh. He nods. “Go listen to more of that music.” I smile, holding back tears. “Okay,”

I say as I turn to the door. “Get some rest.” Tobias says nothing as I step out into the hall.

Chapter 9 You’re Not A Monster I haven’t seen Tobias in two days. But that’s not entirely true. I sneak a peek into his room every chance I get to make sure he’s still breathing and to leave a glass of water out for him. Every time, I see his chest moving up and down in the darkness and I hear his soft breaths passing through his nose. Part of me expects his body to shut down at any moment and that terrifies me. I brush a finger over my lips, once again feeling the phantom tug of his kiss.

You’re just a kid. I guess Tobias isn’t the only one that’s untouchable. Charlie walks into the barn and I drop my hand from my lips. “You’re up early today,” he notes. I keep my head down to shield my burning cheeks and reach out to draw Gloria the cow a little closer to me. “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Couldn’t sleep.” “Bad dreams?” he asks. “Something like that.” “Listen,” he begins, “I need to take a drive. There’s some farm equipment up in Jefferson City I want to take a look at.” I stand up from the stool. “And I’m going with you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I need you to stay here and focus on your chores.” “You’re leaving me alone?” I ask, perhaps a bit too excitedly. “I’ll be back by dinner. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” I nod. “Okay.” “I mean it…” He points a finger. “Don’t let me regret this.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I won’t,” I chuckle. “See you tonight.” Charlie turns around and walks out of the barn towards his truck. I listen closely, suspecting a trick, until I hear the engine purr with life and the tires roll across the gravel road. My

gaze drifts up towards the house, focusing on Tobias’ window. I want to go check on him again, but I did that before I came out here less than an hour ago. I turn back to the cow, deciding to focus on the task in front of me instead. By the time noon rolls around, I’ve finished with my chores. Before exiting the horse stables, I pause by Leo’s pin and reach out to stroke his neck. To my surprise, he doesn’t budge and lets me touch him again. “You’re not so bad, are you?” I laugh. He kicks his feet up and I take a step back. “Okay, okay,” I chuckle, feeling a little better about the situation. But fear still lingers at the edge of my

mind. Instinct drives me back inside the house, pulling me straight towards Tobias’ room. My throat clenches shut, just as it always does as I reach out to grip the doorknob. I turn it slowly and push the door open. Panic strikes me quick when I see his bed is empty. I force the door open the rest of the way, quickly scanning the room for him, but he’s nowhere in sight. “Tobias?” I cry out, letting my voice carry throughout the house. There’s no answer. I rush down the creaky stairs and step outside onto the front porch. I inhale deep, ready to shout his name again, when I notice the barn door sitting wide open.

“Tobias?” I ask again as I step inside. I hear the rhythmic thumping of fist against rubber near the back wall and rush towards the sound. He’s here, shirtless and sweaty, standing in front of the punching bag, firing quick jabs at it over and over again. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask him. Tobias lowers his fists briefly and pauses to take a breath. “Training,” he says, keeping his eyes forward. “Why are you training? You should be resting.” My eyes fall to his glistening body, but I force myself to look away. “I’ve been resting for two days, Claire,” he points out before jabbing the bag again.

“That’s not enough.” He finally drops his fists and turns to look at me. I bite my inner cheek, forcing myself not to look him up and down again. “Don’t you have chores to do?” “I already finished.” “We shouldn’t be seen like this,” he says, looking over my shoulder towards the house. “Charlie’s gone.” “Where’d he go?” “Jefferson City.” Tobias turns back to the punching bag and chuckles. “Let me guess, farm equipment?” “Yeah.” He raises his fists, this time

switching sides to lead with his left. “Dad’s got a thing for antiques.” He throws another punch at the bag. I watch him pivot back and forth. The bruises, which were a deep red just days ago, have healed somewhat, but not enough to make me feel better about him being out of bed. “How’s it feel?” I ask. “It’s manageable.” He puts on a tough front, but I can tell he’s holding back on his punches. His movements are sloppy and slow and he’s favoring his left side. “Liar,” I say. He throws a last punch and turns around to look at me. “You should go find something to keep you busy.” “And what are you going to do?”

“I have an errand to run,” he says. “Tobias, you can’t go anywhere like this—” “Claire.” He clenches his jaw. “I’ll be all right.” I look down his body again, still as worried as ever. Tobias has his mind set on this. I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing, or else I’m sure I’ll go insane. “Okay,” I whisper. He looks back at me. “Hey,” he says, taking a quick step forward. “Like I said, I’ve had worse.” I nod. “I trust you.” His lips curl and he reaches out to drop a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for checking in on me,” he says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I shift slightly. “Someone had to…” “Did Dad ask any questions?” “No, you usually sleep all day anyway. I don’t think he noticed.” “Good.” I follow him back to the house, keeping a close eye on him as he climbs the stairs to the porch. He goes into the kitchen for a glass of water and I linger back in the doorway. My eyes fall to the kitchen table and I chew on my lip. “Hey, can I ask you something?” Tobias looks over at me. “Like what?” “Who’s Mary?” He pauses and sets the empty glass down in the sink. “Why do you ask?”

“The other day, Charlie called me Mary by mistake,” I explain. “He wouldn’t say who she was.” Tobias fills his chest with a deep inhale and holds it for a second. “Mary’s my sister,” he finally answers. “You live in her room.” “Oh,” I mutter. “Well, that… answers those questions.” I look at him and his eyes drop to the floor. “Where is she now?” I ask. He doesn’t answer and quite a few moments pass by in silence. His attentions shift around the room, avoiding me at all costs. “Tobias?” “Get dressed.” He walks out of the kitchen and starts up the stairs. “What?” I ask, following behind him.

“Get cleaned up and meet me outside.” “Why?” He turns around and looks down at me, towering higher than usual with the aid of the stairs. “Do you want to know where she is or not?” It’s so blunt, I grip the banister beside me to hold me steady. “Yes,” I say, the word falling off my lips fast. “Then get dressed.” He turns back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “I’m not supposed to leave the farm,” I point out, standing still. “We’ll get back before he does.” I rush to my room and do as he asks, grabbing a clean shirt and jacket from the closet to wear while the rest of

my clothes are in the wash. My eyes scan the walls. Mary’s walls. I’ve been occupying her living space for a few weeks now, but I still don’t know anything about her. I wear her clothes every day. I read her books. I’ve been dying to know more and if Tobias has decided to leak the details, then I’ll take what I can get. I step outside to see Tobias sitting on his motorbike, waiting for me. “Where are we going?” I ask. “A hospital,” he says. I quicken my pace towards him. “You said you were okay—” “Not for me,” he says, holding out his helmet. “Put this on.” It’s so heavy, I nearly drop it.

“Whoa—” I say, tightening my grip. “Why is this thing so big?” “So I don’t crack my skull open on the highway,” he says. “Don’t have to be so graphic about it…” “And here I thought you liked a bit of violence now and then,” he teases. I lift the helmet and set it down on my head. He presses his hand on the top and forces it down until it’s secure. “What about you?” I say, my voice partially muffled. “I’ll be—” “Fine,” I interrupt, finishing the thought. “Right, of course.” He glares at me, but his lips curl into a smile. I try not to imagine how

silly I look with a giant motorcycle helmet sitting above my petite shoulders. Thankfully, he says nothing about it, but his smile tells me everything. “Sit behind me and hold on tight.” I slide onto the seat. “This is just like riding a horse, right?” I ask. “What?” he asks, glancing back at me. “Rebellious city girl like you never ridden a bike before?” “Your knowledge of city life is extremely outdated,” I quip. Tobias turns the ignition and revs the engine twice. “I’ll take it slow,” he says. I hold on, wrapping my arms around him just like I did on the horse, but I pay close attention to his body

language to make sure I’m not putting too much pressure on his wounds. He does as he says he would and we take it slow until we reach the highway. Then, he picks up the speed and we race towards our destination. While I’m shaking with fear inside, I can’t help but love the thrill of it. Every moment with Tobias is like a fierce chemical high. He’s taken me to new heights, ones I’ve never experienced before. We ride for over an hour and a half, crossing through three small towns, until we finally reach the outskirts of St. Louis. ***

Tobias doesn’t say a word as he leads me into the facility. I’m so full of questions, but I’m too scared to say them out loud. I know that eventually, if I just wait a little longer, the answers will present themselves to me, but I’ve never been a very patient person. I lick my lips, preparing myself to say something, but I catch that serious look in Tobias’ eyes and my lips fall closed again. When he said we’d be going to a hospital, I expected something much larger. The building is small, maybe only about two stories tall, and carries a far homier vibe than I think of when I hear the term hospital. “Hello, Tobias!”

He gives the woman sitting at the front desk a quick wave, but he doesn’t slow down. “They know you here…” I say. “Yeah,” he mutters. We round the first corner and I catch glimpses of the patients lying in the passing rooms. They’re all small and fragile, with weak bodies and translucent skin. Unconscious and unmoving. Their lives attached to machines. I slow down my stride, transfixed by the sight, when the reality begins to dawn on me. This is where people go to die. “Tobias…” I whisper. He turns back and takes my hand. “Come on,” he says. “Just keep your

head down.” I stare at my feet and I let him drag me through the silent hallways until we he finally pauses in front of an open doorway. “Claire,” he begins, “this is Mary.” I look into the room. There’s a girl, no older than myself, lying in the bed. Her eyes are closed. Her black hair, long and perfect, lies on either side of her pale face. Her hands, small like mine, lie across her lap with overlapping fingers. A rhythmic whooshing sounds cuts the silence in pieces as a respirator forces air into her lungs through a plastic tube sticking out of her mouth. I turn away. “What happened to

her?” I ask Tobias. He steps into the room. I stay behind, clinging to the doorway. “She got mixed up with some bad people,” he says, staring down at Mary’s serene expression. “Started taking drugs, staying out all night. She’d go missing for days at a time and come back home blitzed out of her mind with no memory of where she was — or so she claimed.” My feet carry me inside. “Where were you?” “I…” He keeps his head down. “I was too busy with my own shit to even notice that she needed my help. Dad tried, but… by then it was already too late. One day, she didn’t come home at all.” He reaches out to her and touches

her hands softly, careful not to disturb her graceful pose. “They found her by the side of the road, about a mile away from the house.” I clutch my chest, staring across the room at her thin face. “Jeez…” I breathe, unable to process any other words or sounds. He turns to me and somehow, he shows a smile to lighten the mood. “They want to move her somewhere smaller and closer to home, but…” He shakes his head once. “She can’t get the care she deserves there. As long as we keep paying, they can’t touch her.” I look into his dark eyes. “Is this why you fight?” I ask slowly. “She’s why I fight,” he says. “The

money I get from the tournament will be more than enough to keep her here until she wakes up.” “Do they think she will?” “Doc says there’s a good chance.” He looks at her again. “That’s good enough for me.” My eyes wander her pale, blank face, as he leans over to plant a kiss on her head. “I feel awful…” I mutter. “Why?” he asks. “I live in her room.” Tobias steps away from the bed. “Don’t feel bad, Claire.” He pauses next to me. “Beds were meant to be slept in. Books were made to be read.” His eyes fall to my jacket. “Clothes were meant to be worn. She’d want that.”

My skin crawls. “I’m so sorry, Tobias,” I say, forcing the lump in my throat down. He smiles again and cups my cheek with warm fingers. “Well, I get the feeling she’d like you. Probably wouldn’t mind you borrowing her stuff for a little while.” It’s supposed to comfort me, but the lump grows. This girl — she’s just like me in almost every way. One more party, one more hit, one more burst of anger from Rick, and it could be me lying in this bed, trapped inside a body that no longer does its job. I feel nauseous and scared. My skin itches, eager to rid myself of her clothing. It’s too much for me to handle. It’s not—

“Claire…” Tobias whispers my name, drawing me out of my dark spiral of thoughts. “Let’s go home.” I nod as he wipes a tear off my cheek. *** We stop at a gas station just down the street from the hospital. Tobias climbs off the motorbike to refill our tank while I watch the cars pass by us on the busy street and fight the tears stinging my eyes. As hard as he tried to comfort me, I can’t shake the spiders off my skin. I can’t sit still without that black pit in my stomach getting darker and stronger. I pull the large helmet off my head

and set it down on the seat. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I tell Tobias. He nods, saying nothing, but I notice him keep his eyes on me while I step inside. I’ve gotten used to him watching over me and I don’t mind it, but right now, I need a moment to myself. The gas station is nearly deserted, save the bored-looking cashier leaning over the counter with a dirty magazine in his hands. I follow the broken neon sign pointing towards the restrooms to the back corner and pull the door open. More tears hit my cheeks before I even manage to lock the door behind me. I haven’t recovered from what I just saw and I’m honestly not sure I ever will. My heart breaks slowly in my chest, each

passing moment feeling worse than the one that came before it. I turn on the hot water and let the faucet run onto my cold, shaking hands. I live in her room. I think of Charlie. Even he makes a little more sense now. There are moments when he looks over at me and I feel like he’s looking right through me. Now I know why. He’s not looking at me, he’s looking at Mary — the person he failed to help before it was too late. I wipe the tears off my face before leaving the bathroom. “Claire.” I freeze and look up, his voice scratching down my spine. His thick shoulders cast a dark shadow over me

and I quiver down to the bone. Pike the Punisher. “Oh, hi—” My tongue goes numb in my mouth and I choke on my words. I try to step around him, but he easily blocks my path. “What are you doing all the way out here in St. Louis?” he asks with curled lips. His feet continue gliding forward along the dirty linoleum floor, pushing me to step backward. “I’m just passing through—” “No—” He shakes his head. “You should stay awhile. Hang out with me.” “I really can’t.” My back hits the bathroom door and my breath spills off my lips. Pike reaches into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t usually break out the good stuff so easily,” he whispers as he pulls out a small, plastic baggy with an X written in blood-red ink on the bottom corner. My eyes fall on the familiar white powder inside and I bite my tongue. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.” “No…” I cower against the door. “I don’t want that—” “Sure you do,” he chuckles. “I could see it on you the moment I saw you. You’re a party girl.” “No, I’m not—” He leans in closer, pressing his body against mine. I turn my cheek to get away from the stale stench of his breath, but he reaches out and grips my face with his thick fingers to draw me back.

“Even if you’re not…” He growls and reaches for the bathroom door handle. “You will be.” Before he can pull the door open, a hand grabs his shoulder and jerks him away from me with great force. I jump with a start and watch as Tobias tosses him back into a display of water bottles, knocking it and Pike to the floor. Tobias plants himself between us, standing as firm as wall. Pike launches himself off the floor, laughter teasing his throat. “Tobias!” he greets with a smile. “You’re looking better than I expected after the beating you took the other night.” “You should see the other guy,” Tobias replies.

“Yeah—” Pike laughs. “I have. We should start calling you Tobias the Tooth Puller.” I cringe and Pike’s lips curl. “What, you didn’t tell her?” he asks, watching my reaction. “Stay away from her,” Tobias seethes. “She has the right to know the kind of monster she’s dealing with. Isn’t that right, darling?” I turn away as bile rises in my throat. Tobias slowly reaches behind his back and I place my hand in his. Pike scoffs. “Lighten up, man. Me and her were just talking. No harm done.” “I think you’ve harmed my family enough, Pike. It’s time for you to leave.”

Pike’s laughter makes my blood run cold. “Seems like you have some anger issues to work out, Tobias,” he quips. “But I think we should save it for the tournament. Don’t you?” His eyes linger on me before he spins around. “I’ll be seeing you again, Claire…” “Yeah, in your dreams,” I fire back. Tobias stands still, his fingers still wrapped around my small hand, until Pike exits the gas station. “Claire…” he says as he turns around to look at me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I say, my voice shaking. He cups my face. “Did he hurt you?” “No.” Tobias takes a deep breath and

shakes his head at me. “In your dreams?” he repeats with a furrowed brow. “It’s all I could think of,” I shrug. “Next time, just be quiet.” I smile. “Okay.” He smiles back at me. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Yes,” I answer. I look down his body. “Are you?” He nods. “Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my hand again and pulls me outside along with him. His eyes shift around the parking lot, but Pike has disappeared completely. “Tobias…” He ignores me and grabs the helmet off the bike to hand over to me. “Tobias,” I say his name

again as he sits down. “We need to get moving.” “It was him, wasn’t it?” I ask. “The people Mary got mixed up with… Pike was one of them.” He flexes his jaw and nods. “She was head over heels for him. But he just wanted one thing from her. I know he was there that night with her, but I could never prove it…” “Tobias,” I lay a hand on his shoulder, “you’re not a monster.” His eyes falls to the ground. “Maybe not today,” he says. “Not ever,” I argue. He pauses and looks up at me as I cup his face with both hands. I lean in, ignoring every instinct telling me not to, and lay a soft

kiss on his lips. “Claire,” he whispers, our lips grazing. He grips my wrists to pull my hands away from his face. “I want to take comfort in you, but I can’t.” His eyes pierce into mine. “Do you understand?” I lick my lips, unable to pull away. “Yes,” I breathe. He turns his head, disconnecting our embrace. “We need to get moving,” he says again. I lower the helmet back onto my head as the motorbike roars with life beneath us.

Chapter 10 Start Over “Shit.” I hear Tobias’ voice on the wind and glance up to see Charlie’s truck parked next to the house. He must have heard the sound of the motorbike coming up the driveway. He’s there, standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his body, waiting for us as Tobias’ pulls up next to the barn. “Uh-oh,” I mutter. I pull the helmet off my head and lay it down on the bike’s seat.

“Just let me do the talking,” Tobias says. We step away from the barn together and walk across the driveway towards the house. “An afternoon joyride isn’t exactly what I meant when I told you to stay put, Claire,” Charlie says to me. “It wasn’t a joyride,” Tobias replies. “Then where’d you go?” “I took her to see Mary.” Charlie pauses. “And why did you do that?” “Seemed like a better idea than leaving her here by herself.” “And I told you to stay away from her.” Tobias says nothing back and

Charlie’s eyes fall on me. “Get inside, Claire. Go to your room and stay there.” I move quickly up the porch and walk inside, glancing over my shoulder at Tobias while I go. “What happened to your neck?” Charlie asks him as I step inside. I linger near the stairs, managing to stay within earshot and out of sight. “Factory equipment malfunction,” Tobias explains. “I didn’t dodge in time. It’s fine.” The answer seems to be satisfying enough for Charlie, as he asks nothing more about his bruising. I hear his boots on the porch and quickly bolt up the stairs to hide in my doorway. “I know it’s difficult, being under

the same roof and all,” Charlie begins, his voice carrying from the kitchen, “but I asked you to leave Claire alone for a reason.” “I know.” “It’s my job to protect her, Tobias. I can’t do that if I don’t know where she is at all times.” “She never left my sight the entire time. But she had questions — reasonable ones.” “And you thought you’d just spill the family beans without clearing it with me first?” “I thought she had a right to know whose bed she sleeps in, yes.” Charlie sighs and slides a chair out to sit down at the table. I step closer to

the stairs as their voices get lower. “Well, how did that go?” he asks. “About how you’d expect,” Tobias says. “I think it hit pretty close to home for her.” “And what about you?” “What about me?” “You know what.” “It’s not—” Tobias pauses. “I wasn’t there for Mary, but I can be there for her.” “Tobias… it doesn’t work like that. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to her.” “I think there’s plenty of blame to go around for everybody involved, don’t you?” “Even so, Claire ain’t Mary.”

“I know,” Tobias says. “But she’s close enough.” He enters the living room with quick feet and I fall back to my room, watching him as he steps outside onto the front porch and across the driveway. I sit down on the bed and look out the window. Tobias slides the barn door open and disappears inside without looking back. Charlie’s boots sound up the stairs. I sit back and wait, dreading the inevitable and horrible moments to come. He leans against the doorway and chews on his lip. “I suppose you heard most of that,” he says. I shrug.

“You came into a very complicated household here, Claire,” he says. “The good Lord hasn’t been particularly kind to us over the years.” “Is he ever?” I ask. His eyebrows bounce. “Sometimes.” He reaches behind his back and pulls Tobias’ music player from his pocket. “I found this under your pillow,” he says before tossing it onto the bed. I scoff. “You’re searching my bed now?” “It’s my bed, you just sleep in it.” “Because that’s not rude or anything…” “Where’d you get it?” he asks me. “It’s Tobias’,” I answer.

“I know. How did you get it?” “He gave it to me. Just ask him.” He sighs. “I don’t need to.” His eyes, soft and warmer than I thought they’d be, stare down at me. “Claire, I was a cop for over twenty years.” “So?” “So, there’s not a whole lot I don’t notice,” he says. “I notice that when you barely sleep, you sneak out at night and hide out in my barn. I even notice when my truck has magically shifted a few inches away from where I last parked it.” I look to the floor, obviously confirming any suspicions he has of my activities. “And I notice…” he pauses, “that

my son is smiling again for the first time in months.” “I’m sorry, Charlie,” I tell him. “You told me to stay away from him and I didn’t.” “As the man tasked with setting you straight, I’m a tad bit perturbed at that, but… as his father, I’m kind of happy you didn’t.” He brushes a hand through the air. “I don’t need to know the details of your relationship because it ain’t my business—” “There’s nothing to tell—” He holds up his hand to silence me. “But obviously, the two of you have gotten through to each other in ways I couldn’t and I guess that’s fine.” I take a deep breath, surprised by his reaction.

“You trust him.” “I do.” “Good,” he says. “I’ve known quite a few girls in my time, ones a lot like you, Claire, and trust is really hard for them to come by after what they’ve been through.” I look up at him and swallow the rock in my throat back down. “Do you want to talk about what you saw today?” he asks. I flash back to Mary’s cold, pale face. “Not really,” I say. He nods. “Did you learn anything?” “Drugs are bad,” I mutter. “Good girl.” He pushes off the doorway. “Every day, I wish that my daughter knew that, too.” “Well, if she was anything like me,

she knew. She just didn’t care.” I look back at him and he gives a short, understanding smile. “Charlie—” He pauses in the door frame. “It wasn’t a banana peel.” “I know.” He says nothing else before walking back down the stairs. *** I step into the barn and make quick strides towards the punching bag in the corner. The setting sun casts an orange glow over everything, but the serene feeling it offers me is quickly struck down by everything awful I feel inside of me. Anger, fear, frustration. You name it, and I’m feeling it right now. The

world is a cruel and unfair place. The things I’ve been through — or rather, the things I’ve put myself through for no damn reason — don’t compare to what’s happened to Tobias or Charlie. I’m selfish and deeply stupid, but I don’t want to be. I roll my hands into fists and slam them into the punching bag over and over again. “Protect your face.” I spin around and look up to see Tobias sitting in the loft, laying against the hay bales near the window. The light of the world casts shadows across his beautiful face, but even that’s not enough to distract me right now. “What are you doing up there?” I ask with annoyance.

He shrugs. “I come up here to think sometimes. This was Mary’s favorite place when we were kids.” I sigh and turn back to the bag. “I suppose that’s yet another thing I’ve done since I got here that’s reminded you of your sister.” I punch the bag. Hard. “Isn’t that just great?” “Claire—” “Not really looking for pointers, Tobias.” “What’s wrong with you?” he asks calmly. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I fume. Each punch feels more painful against my soft knuckles, but I keep going. “I just feel like hitting something right now.”

“Why?” “Why the hell not?!” “Does he know you’re out here?” “I don’t care.” I lash out with a flurry of sloppy punches and kicks. The noise thumps so loudly in my ears, I don’t even hear Tobias come down from the loft. “Claire—” he palms my fist mid-air and easily holds it steady, even when I try to pull it away. “Stop.” “No!” I shout. I pull my hand away and he releases it. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to slow down. I want to keep moving because if I don’t, then it just hurts more.” Tobias moves behind the punching bag and holds it steady for me. “What

hurts more?” he asks. “Everything,” I answer. I swing forward and the satisfying smack reverberates up my arm, fueling the next punch. My heart pounds in my ears. The quick thumping sound gives me a rhythm to match with each punch I throw. “I feel like such an idiot…” “You’re not an idiot.” “Yeah, well, what would you call someone that willingly ruins their life for stupid reasons?” “Human.” I pause and roll my eyes at him. “Cute,” I bite. I spin around in a circle to gain momentum before backhanding the bag. “Nice hit,” he says.

“Don’t do that—” I say. “I’m not looking for compliments right now.” “What are you looking for?” I let a punch linger on the bag and I hold it there while I catch my breath. “I don’t know anymore. I thought I knew. I thought I had it all figured out for me, but… I really am just a kid, aren’t I?” “You’ll outgrow that,” he smiles. I punch the bag again, this time striking it with slower hits as my arms start to tire. “There’s always someone out there that has it worse off.” “That doesn’t make what you’re feeling any less valid, Claire.” “You sound like Charlie now.” “There are worse things in the world,” he jokes.

I lower my arms. “Me and Mary. Rick and Pike — it’s all the same.” “It’s not the same,” he whispers. “Seems pretty similar.” He abandons the bag and steps closer to me. “Then change it,” he says. “Start over. Be someone better.” “How?” I ask him. His fingers take my hand and he begins rubbing the red rashes forming along my knuckles. My skin twitches and the pain spikes with each firm rub he gives me. “Stay here,” he says. “Stay here?” I parrot back. “Yes.” “I can’t stay here.” “Why not? Your birthday is next week. You said you’re going to go back

to Chicago, but if you ask me, that’s not what you really want anymore.” I pull my hand away from him. “You don’t know what I want, Tobias.” “Then what do you want, Claire?” I bite my bottom lip. I can taste the words on my tongue, sweet and satisfying, but I can’t bring myself to say them out loud. “I want to go back inside now,” I whisper. I step around him. Tobias grabs me quickly and spins us around to set me against the wooden ladder to the loft. My vision blurs, so overwhelmed by the sudden movement that it makes me dizzy. I feel weightless in his strong arms, completely under his control. “Claire,” he says. “What do you want?”

Every nerve in my body quivers against him as he holds me with ease. “Why are you doing this, Tobias?” I ask him. “One minute, you say you can’t touch me, and the next—” “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.” A low growl teases me on the edge of his quiet tone. “I saw you… standing in her room and I felt alive, Claire. I touched you and I haven’t been able to sit still since.” “Then why stop?” I tremble. “Why not just take what you want?” “I’m not that kind of man,” he says with heavy breath. “I won’t try to take from you what he did.” He grip softens and he takes a slow step back. “What if I give it to you?” I ask,

leaning forward into his arms again. “If that’s what you want, Claire…” he says, “then I will be there for you, but we have to do this right.” I step back. “You want to wait.” He nods. “It’s the right thing to do.” I bite my lips with frustration. They want so badly to feel him against them, to feel the bite of his teeth and the caress of his tongue. My mouth waters. My senses quiver. He’s so close. I could taste him right now if I wanted to, but I know he’s right. It may be the right thing, but it feels so very wrong. “Okay,” I whisper against my will. His hands move down my body, but he fights his own temptations and steps away from me.

Chapter 11 Code Of Conduct “Happy birthday, honey.” I lean against the kitchen doorway with the phone against my ear. “Thanks, Mom,” I say. My mother’s voice sounds strange to me now, even though it’s only been a week since I last heard it and almost three since I’ve seen her face. It couldn’t have changed, so I can only assume that it’s me that’s changed and not the other way around. Charlie lingers in front of me with his arms crossed about his chest. I shoot

him a glare and he retreats back to the table with his coffee. I turn around and face the empty living room. “Have you had a good day?” I smile. “Not bad.” “Anything special happen?” “Well, I think today is the first day since I got here where I didn’t get a single mosquito bite,” I say. “Either that, or I just don’t feel it anymore.” My mother laughs. “Well, that’s something.” “I guess.” A silence falls between us for a few moments. I can feel Charlie’s eyes on me, burning a hole into the back of my head. I peak over my shoulder and confirm my suspicion. Another quick glare in his direction and

he turns in his seat to pretend to focus on his paper. “Charlie told me you’re feeling pretty stable now,” she says. “Yeah.” “Have any fun plans for the weekend? I thought I’d come down and get you so you don’t have to bus back. There’s a great new shop that just opened on—” “Mom…” I begin, “there’s something that I need to say.” She pauses. I hear her breath strike the phone, a quick and sudden sigh. “Okay,” she says. “It’s not anything horrible, I just…” I bite my lip, trying hard to choose the right words. “I’m going to be staying

here for a little while longer.” “Oh?” she asks. “He said you were ready to go.” “Yeah, I am but… I’ve been making some good progress here,” I say, nodding at no one. “I don’t want to go just yet.” “Are you sure?” I can hear the hesitation in her voice. She never wanted to send me away in the first place, that much is certain. It was my stepfather’s idea, but she never fought it either. “I was looking forward to having you back.” “I know. Me, too. But… I need more time.” The last thing I want is to be put back in that environment. Charlie told

me that in order to heal, you have to eliminate what caused the pain in the first place. My stepfather. Rick. Chicago. Everything about them set me up to fail. Now that I’ve felt a new life without that pain, I don’t want to take steps back. I want to move forward and I can do that here. “All right, Claire,” she says. “If that’s what you think you need…” “It is,” I reply. “I’ll talk to you again soon.” I quickly hang the phone up. My hand lingers on the hard plastic receiver while I take several deep breaths to calm my nerves. “That sounded like it went well.” I turn around and look at Charlie. “Could have gone worse.”

“How did she take it?” he asks. “Good,” I say. “I don’t think she was expecting it though.” “I think you made the right call.” “I think so, too,” I say. A clear feeling nestles in my head. “So, when were you going to ask me if you could stay longer?” he smiles. I blink. “Oh yeah…” Charlie stands up from the table. “I’m kidding,” he says. “Claire, you can stay here for as long as you feel you need to.” I let out a soft chuckle. “Thank you.” “Lord knows I could use the help around here.” “I’ll earn my keep,” I tell him. “I

promise.” “I know you will.” A knock strikes the front door. “But first…” He gestures for me to answer it. I turn around and walk passed the stairwell into the foyer. Charlie follows me in and leans against the kitchen doorway. I open the door to find Amy standing on the front porch wearing a short, black skirt, a red blouse, and killer heels. The setting sun burns the sky behind her blonde head. “Hey, Amy,” I greet with suspicion. “What’s up?” She grins. “I’ve come to kidnap you!” “Umm…” I glance back at Charlie and he smiles.

“It’s your birthday,” Amy says. “It’s time to party!” I turn around. “What’s this?” I ask Charlie. He shrugs. “Work. Reward.” A smile attacks my lips. “Really? You’re letting me go out for the night?” “You only turn eighteen once,” he says, then quickly points a finger. “But you are going to be careful and safe.” “Oh, I promise!” I say, excitement building in my chest. “And Tobias is going with you.” “Ah, boo!” Amy teases. “A chaperone.” “Amy…” Charlie raises an eyebrow. “I’m only kidding, Mr. Eastwood.

We’ll be happy to take him with us.” She looks back at me. “Go get changed into something slutty.” I look at Charlie and shake my head as he glares back at her. “She’s just joking,” I say quickly. “Oh, yeah, totally,” she says to him as she steps inside. She quickly spins back around. ‘No, I’m not,’ she mouths silently. I laugh and close the front door. *** “Where are we going?” I ask as I watch the dark highway pass by us from the window of Amy’s car. “Jefferson City,” she replies.

“What’s in Jefferson City?” I ask as I fiddle with ends of my skirt, yet another loan from the back of Mary’s closet. I didn’t want to wear it, but Amy insisted on it. Then I saw Tobias’ reaction to it and I knew I had to keep it on. “Clubs, my friend.” A grin crosses Amy’s red lips. “Clubs that you can’t find where we come from, that’s for damn sure. Might as well make use of that new age bracket when Charlie lets you out, am I right?” “Sounds like fun,” I say. She reaches out and adjusts her rear view mirror to get a better look at Tobias in the backseat. “Unless our bodyguard has any objections,” she

teases. “I don’t care where you go,” he says. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” “Implying I’ve done stupid things before…” “I’m not implying anything, Amy,” he chuckles. “But to be fair, you do run the local branch of an illegal fighting championship.” “A championship that you better win, Toby…” she warns. “You’re the first fighter from our area to make it to the final round in nearly a decade.” I turn around in my seat. “Is that true?” I ask him. “Apparently,” he mutters. “And if he wins, I get a big, fat

bonus check,” Amy smirks at him again in the mirror. “So, make sure you eat lots of protein, get plenty of rest, and kick Pike’s mangy ass tomorrow night.” He glances out the window. “I don’t plan on losing,” he says. She revs the engine. “That’s my boy.” I stare at him as a smile climbs to my lips. His eyes flick in my direction, a stunning forest green that reflects back at me as the streetlights pass by overhead. “What?” he asks. “Nothing,” I say before turning back around to face forward. Amy digs her heel a little harder into the gas pedal. “So, what’s the deal with you two? You fucking yet?”

I jerk in her direction with wide eyes. “Real smooth, Amy,” Tobias says. “What?” She looks at me and shrugs her shoulders. “I’m just curious.” Her eyes glance back to the road. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.” “Wasn’t going to,” he replies. Amy grins silently again, but casts a knowing glance my way. I swallow down a nervous tremble and bite my lip as I remember his kiss on it once more. *** After an hour of thumping bass, I almost miss the calmness of the farmhouse. It’s strange how so much can

change in so little time. This used to be all I lived for. I’d wake up in the morning and wonder where the next party was going to be. It’s only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime ago. “A vodka tonic for me,” Amy says as she returns from the bar. “And two waters for the squares.” She sets one glass down in front of me at our table and another in front of Tobias. “Thanks,” I tell her as I take a sip. I relish in the cold, icy drink as it falls down my warm throat. “I almost forgot that you’re only eighteen,” she jokes over the loud music. “And you, Toby…” She points a finger at him. “No alcohol for you. I need you

hydrated.” He grabs his glass and smiles. “Just let me know if you need me to drive us home.” Amy scoffs. “No one drives my baby but me.” “Then take it easy on the vodka tonics,” he warns. “I will. I have to open the store tomorrow anyway.” I take another sip of water. “Why do you work in the grocery store?” I ask. “Don’t you make enough money from the fights alone?” Amy grins. “Yes, I do.” She leans forward. “But it’d be quite suspicious if I were suddenly raking in money without a job, wouldn’t it?”

I nod. “You live a secret cover life, too?” “We live in a really small town, Claire,” Amy says. “If you want to blend in, you have to make some sacrifices. My personal sacrifice is twenty hours a week behind a counter for two bucks above minimum wage. My mother did the same thing.” “And no one knew she ran the league?” I ask. She shakes her head. “No one in town except for a few local fighters and the handful of cops she paid off.” “Does anyone know you run the league?” “No.” “Not even your father?”

She brings her glass to her lips. “My father thinks I’m the checkout girl at the local grocery store,” she says. “That’s all he needs to know.” Her eyes fall on Tobias. “There are plenty of people that wouldn’t be too happy to know about our secret lives.” I turn to Tobias and he nods softly. “Amy!” We look up and I flinch as a familiar face suddenly emerges from the busy crowd. He pushes through people, darting fast towards Amy’s seat. Burt the Brute. “Oh, hello, Burt!” she greets with a smile. His dark eyes scan our table and rest on Tobias. “I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?” Amy asks him. Burt reaches for Amy. His thick fingers wrap around her little arm. “You’re fooling around on me again, aren’t you? In my town?!” Tobias says nothing. He calmly takes another quick drink from his glass and sets it back down again before standing up. “Burt — calm down,” Amy says with a steady voice. “I never said we were exclusive—” “You fucking bitch!” he seethes, shouting directly into her ear. “Burt, a word?” Tobias grabs his arm and lays another hand on the back of his neck to forcefully direct Burt away from our table. Amy and I watch with

wide eyes as Tobias shoves him into the bathroom in the corner and quickly closes the door behind them. I look at Amy and a thick grin spreads across her face. “Should we… get help, or something?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Well… maybe.” I stare at the bathroom door, my mind buzzing from the fearful possibilities, as she nonchalantly checks her text messages. A few moments later, the bathroom door bursts open and Burt steps outside, followed closely by Tobias. They return to the table slowly and Tobias lays a hand on Burt’s shoulder. “Amy, Burt has something he’d like

to say to you,” Tobias says. Burt clears his throat. “I’m sorry for my rudeness,” he mutters. “And for marking up your face… even though you seemed to like it—” “Burt,” Tobias snips. “No, he’s right,” Amy says. I look at her in confusion. “I like it a little too rough sometimes and Burt… kinda likes to get carried away sometimes.” “Well, next time,” Tobias says as he grabs Burt’s arm again, “make sure to avoid her face. Okay?” “Sure,” Burt stutters. “No problem, man.” “Now, fuck off.” Tobias shoves him away and returns to his seat at the table. “Aye yi yi,” Amy says as she fans

herself. “All hail our future Alpha.” “Hear, hear,” I say as I bring my drink to my lips. Tobias looks at me in silence as I take a quick sip. “I need to dance and work off this awful sexual tension,” Amy says. She grabs my hand and yanks me out of my seat. “Come on.” I look to Tobias, half-hoping he’ll rescue me. “Wanna join us?” I ask him. “I think I’ll just watch,” he says as he leans back in his seat. Amy drags me away, but I glance back to catch Tobias looking me up and down. ***

I come back to the table in desperate need of something to drink. Tobias looks up at me. “Having fun?” he asks. “Yes,” I smile. I take a long sip from my glass and look back at the dance floor. Amy passes herself back and forth between two men, neither of whom I recognize. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know them either. “But not nearly as much as Amy.” “No one ever has as much fun as Amy,” he chuckles. “In fact, I think she views it as a personal attack if you even try.” I laugh and turn back around to him. “So… what did you do to Burt?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

“Nothing.” “That wasn’t nothing.” He gives a small smile. “I merely reminded him that we have a code of conduct.” “The Midwest Alphas have a code of conduct?” “No, gentlemen do.” “You know, Tobias,” I laugh. “You’re quite possibly the most adorable man I’ve ever met.” He inhales deep. “I’m not sure how I feel about living in a world where treating women with respect is considered adorable rather than common.” I pause, my eyes falling to the table. “Well, in my experience, it hasn’t been

all that common.” He looks at me, his eyes soft and warm. “I spoke with my mother today.” “Yeah?” “I told her I wasn’t coming home yet.” “You decided to stay?” he asks. “What can I say? I’ve grown rather attached to Betty the cow.” I lick my lips and stare back into his bright green eyes. His gaze sends warmth throughout my body, igniting the subtle fires beneath my skin. He smiles. “Good.”

Chapter 12 Girls And Bad Boys I open my eyes, fighting an overwhelming urge to sleep, and see the farmhouse come into view of the headlights. I sit up and forget for a moment where I am. My eyes fall to the digital clock on the dashboard. It’s well passed one in the morning. I don’t remember the last time I felt this tired around this time. I’m usually bouncing off the walls until long after three. Amy parks the car in the driveway near the barn. “Wake up, loser,” she

teases me. I smile at her and unhook my seatbelt. My ears still ring from the loud music and my throat feels coarse from the constant shouting to talk above the thumping bass. I love every ounce of the feeling. “Thank you, Amy,” I tell her. “This was fun.” “We should do it again sometime,” she says. She adjust the rear view mirror. “How about you, Toby? Did you manage to break out of your dark shell for the evening and have a little bit of the f-word?” I turn back to look at him. His eyes glare back at Amy in the mirror with a clever mix of annoyance and amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Amy says.

“I’m an optimist.” She claps her hands together. “Right. Now. Go to bed. Get some rest. I want you perfect for tomorrow night. You hear me?” Tobias smiles. “Yes, ma’am.” She turns to me. “Make sure he does.” “I’ll do my best.” I push open the car door and step outside into the warm night air. Tobias follows me out and we give Amy one last goodbye wave before she bolts down the driveway at top speed. “She’s a real hard-ass, isn’t she?” I joke. Tobias shrugs. “She’s a woman that knows what she wants, I’ll give her that.” “I’m more terrified of what she’ll

do to you if you lose than the fight itself.” He turns to me. “You don’t have to be scared about the fight, Claire.” “I know I don’t have to be,” I say, “but I still am.” “Come here,” he smiles. He walks over to the barn and silently pulls the door open. I follow him in and flick on the lights as he closes the door behind us. I stand against ladder to the loft, watching him closely until he reaches into his pocket and pulls out my phone. “What’s this?” I ask. “It’s a phone,” he grins as he takes my hand and lays it flat into my palm. “Yeah, I know…” I say, hesitating

to wrap my fingers around it. “Did you steal it?” Tobias chuckles softly. “No,” he answers. “My dad asked me to give it to you.” “Why?” He shrugs. “I guess you’ve earned it back. Or, you know… it’s your birthday. You’re eighteen now. You should get what you want.” The phone feels heavy in my hands, almost foreign. I stare at it and realize that I’ve forgotten why I clung to it so much before. It feels like there’s a past life hidden somewhere in my subconscious, begging to come back, but there’s no place for it anymore. “This isn’t what I want,” I say. I look up at him

with subtle eyes. “Well, Claire…” he says. “Tell me what you want and I’ll see what I can do.” I slide the phone into my back pocket. “Will you let me kiss you if I do?” He pauses with temptation in his eyes. I move in closer to him, saying a silent wish for him not to wander away from me. Luckily, he stands still and licks his lips. I push myself higher onto my toes and he leans down to welcome my kiss. A magnet binds our lips together. His are soft and warm. The hesitation I felt on them before has completely disappeared. He lays a hand on my

cheek and the other against my waist to hold me against him. I don’t fight his perfect embrace. I lean into it, eager and happy to be under his control as he sits me back against the ladder. My hands move across his hard body. I feel him tremble beneath my touch. I never want to let him go and I can feel his desires driving him to hold onto me forever, too. I kiss him harder and open my knees to him to pull him in closer to me. His hand falls to my thigh and I quiver as his fingers travel up my bare leg. I moan against his lips, blocking out all other senses. Passion drives me further than ever before. I reach for his belt. His hands push my jacket off my

shoulders and his lips fall to my neck. Bolts of electric sex course through me. I can’t think of anything other than this pleasure. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Rick. My blood runs cold as I look towards the door. “Rick?” I ask. He stands in the doorway, the same tall, dark, and handsome boy I was torn away from just a few weeks ago. Now, he seems taller and darker, but not in a good way. “What are you doing here?” I ask. I jump off the ladder and pull my jacket back up onto my shoulders. Rick steps into the barn, his feet dragging softly across the ground. His

eyes fall on Tobias before he speaks and he stares at him like an unwanted pest. “I came to see you,” he tells me. “I’d never miss your birthday.” He pauses a few feet away from me and glances down my body. “You look nice.” I look between the two of them as fear rises in my chest. Now that I see them standing together, I see the similar features of their bloodline plain as day, but I also see the subtle differences in the way they move. Rick strides like an unpredictable animal, eager and twitchy in his boots. Tobias stares back at him, stiff as a board, but prepared to strike at a moment’s notice. “Hey, Tobias,” Rick mutters. “It’s been awhile.”

“Rick,” he replies, offering nothing more. “How did you find me?” I ask Rick. “Where else would they send you?” he jokes as his eyes wander the walls of the barn. “Uncle Charlie’s halfway house.” Tobias shifts slightly on his feet. I take in a quick, deep breath. “Tobias, can you give us a minute?” I ask him. He flicks his green eyes at me, but doesn’t move. “Yeah, cuz’,” Rick grins. “Give us a minute.” “It’s okay,” I say to Tobias. “Tell Charlie thank you for the gift for me.” His eyes find mine again and I nod,

hoping he understands my hidden meaning. Finally, he steps back and turns towards the door. “Okay,” he says before walking outside. Once he’s gone, I look back at Rick and watch as his smile slowly stretches the length of his face. “What are you doing here?” I ask him again. “I missed you,” he says, moving in closer to me. “It’s time for you to get out of here and come home with me. Remember? Like we planned.” I counter him with a quick step back and he tilts his head in confusion. “What’s wrong?” “I’m not going home with you,” I say. A soft chuckle massages his throat. “Yeah, your mom mentioned something

about you extending your little vacation,” he laughs. “Stop joking around.” “I’m not joking.” He flexes his jaw and his smile drops. “Come on, Claire,” he says. “Go get your shit and let’s go.” I shake my head. “I can’t.” “You can’t? What do you mean you can’t?” “I mean… I can’t,” I stutter. “You don’t belong here, Claire,” he says. “You belong with me.” “Not anymore.” “What the hell has gotten into you?” He gestures behind us, pointing towards the house. “My fucking cousin?” “This has nothing to do with him,” I

say. “This is between us and… I’ve realized that this isn’t what I want anymore.” “Look… Claire…” He steps forward and grabs my shoulders. “I know you’ve been out here in the boonies for a little while and you’re confused, but I can help you with that.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small baggy of white powder. I cringe when I see the blood-red X on the bottom corner. “Where did you get that?” I ask. “A friend of a friend I stumbled upon in St. Louis on the drive down here,” he grins. “Should be more than enough to kick-start some fun, eh?” “No.”

Rick sighs and drops his hands. “What the hell happened to you out here?” “I’m sorry, Rick,” I say. “That’s just not who I am anymore.” “Yes, it is,” he argues. “People don’t change, Claire. Especially not girls like you.” “Well, I have.” He stares back at me, his face filled with anger. “So, that’s it then? You’re staying out here in Hickville?” I swallow the bile back down my throat. “Yes.” “Why?” “Because… I’ve seen where that path ends up, Rick. I’ve turned back and you should, too.”

Rick scoffs. “One month on the prairie and suddenly you’re as square as a book?” “It’s not that simple,” I say. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your cousin?” “What about him?” “Not him. I’m talking about Mary.” “Mary?” He shakes his head. “Mary was a lightweight. She’s not like us.” “Wow…” I breathe. “Rick, you really need to leave now.” He stuffs the powder back into his jacket pocket. “Okay, fine. Say I did quit. Say it was going to be different from now on. Would you come home with me then?”

“I… I don’t think so,” I mutter. “Why not?” “Because I can’t trust you.” I bite my bottom lip. It has long since healed, but I can still feel the pain of it in my memory. He closes in on me, forcing me backwards with quick steps. “Come on, Claire. You remember what it was like to be together…” He leans in and brushes his lips across my cheek. “You know how I can make you feel—” “Rick, please don’t,” I beg. I put my hands against him to push him away, but he locks his fingers around my wrists and pins me against the wall. “I love you, Claire,” he whispers. “I’m the only one that does. I’ve missed

you—” “Rick, stop—” He forces his lips against mine. I try to pull away, but he uses his brute strength to hold me in place as reaches for his belt. “Rick, no!” “The lady said no, Rick.” Rick glances towards the barn entrance, his eyes falling on Tobias’ massive form. He keeps his fierce grip on me and grins back at him. “That’s the thing about Claire, cuz’,” he jokes. “Get her buzzed enough and you can talk her into just about anything—” “Let go of her. Now.” Tobias steps forward, his hands rolled into whiteknuckle fists.

“Hey…” Rick releases me and raises his hands to his ears in surrender. “Your house, your rules. I’ll even give you first dibs at her—” “Back up,” he growls, his face red with rage. Rick refuses to move and giggles softly. “What are you gonna do? You gonna hit me?” I reach out to Tobias, scared of what he’ll do. “Tobias,” I say his name, my voice shaking. He takes my hand and pulls me away from Rick with a lightning fast jerk. “You don’t want to fight me, Rick,” he says, moving me behind him. Rick rolls his eyes. “I didn’t come here to start a fight,” he says. “I just

came to claim my girl and go home.” “She’s not your girl,” Tobias says. “Best be leaving now.” “I’m not leaving here without her.” “You’ll be leaving disappointed then.” Rick smiles at him. “I’m curious… how long did it take before she dropped her panties for you?” “Rick, don’t,” I warn, watching Tobias’ trembling arms. “I’m honestly really impressed if she has. It took me almost a year to talk her into it…” Rick pauses, amusement dancing on his lips as he watches Tobias’ reaction. “Oh, have I struck a nerve, Tobias? Maybe I’m wrong and she hasn’t yet. She always has been a

little tease—” Tobias grabs Rick’s jacket with both hands and slams him against the barn wall. “Get out of here and don’t come back…” He releases his jacket and Rick falls to the ground. “Get inside the house, Claire,” he says to me, touching my shoulder. I look down to see Rick pulling a switchblade from his jeans. He opens it with a quick flick of his wrist. “Tobias—!” I scream. Rick lunges at us with the blade. Tobias knocks me back with a wave of his arm, shielding me from the slashes of the knife. I topple to the ground and quickly look up to see Tobias’ hand wrapped around Rick’s neck. He raises

his leg and slams his foot against Rick’s hand, forcing him to drop the knife. Rick takes a swing and Tobias narrowly dodges the blow to the face. He drops Rick’s neck in the process, giving Rick enough leverage to pull back his fist and deliver a hard blow to Tobias’ stomach, sending him down to his knees. Rick grabs the knife again before kicking Tobias while he’s down. “No!” I cry out, too scared to move. Rick steps towards me and grabs my arm to pull me off the ground, but Tobias climbs to his feet behind him. He charges forward and grabs Rick’s shoulders to pull him away from me. Rick swings around, knife in hand, and

thrusts it at Tobias’ chest. I cover my face, gasping for air. “Stop!” I shout, but they don’t listen. I watch their blurred forms trade blows over and over again as tears stream down my face. The bang of a bullet brings the room to a standstill. I spin around to see Charlie standing in the doorway with his rifle in his hands. He cocks it again and aims it at Rick. “I think you better be getting home, Rick,” he says, his voice calm as it ever was. Rick folds his blade closed and drops it back into his pocket. “Sure,” he says, forcing a smile and raising his hands. He wipes the blood off his nose

as he brings himself to his feet. “Come on, Claire…” He gestures to me as he passes and reaches down to grab my arm. “Nephew or not, son…” Charlie barks. “You lay one more finger on her and I’ll put a bullet between your goddamn eyes.” Rick pauses and a chuckle escapes his lips. “All right…” he says, his eyes locked on me. “We’ll finish this later then…” I shake my head. “We’re already finished,” I say. He flashes a knowing smile and a chill runs down my spine as he steps out of the barn. I turn back to Tobias and breathe a

quick sigh of relief to see him climbing to his feet. Blood stains his shirt and my eyes fall to the wound on his arm, a small cut just above his left elbow. “You’re hurt…” I whimper, guilt striking me down. He walks over and pulls me off the ground. “Don’t worry about it,” he mutters. He looks at me from head to toe, searching for any wounds of my own. “I suppose I don’t need to ask what that was all about,” Charlie says to the two of us. I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry, Charlie…” I whisper. “I didn’t know he was coming—” “It ain’t your fault, Claire,” he says. “A man’s gonna do what a man’s gonna

do. The blame is always on him.” His eyes bounce between us. “Get on inside. Get that cut cleaned out.” I take Tobias towards the house. Before going inside, I hear the growl of Rick’s car near the highway. Rick is gone, hopefully for good, but the fear of him knowing where I sleep still plagues me. Tobias and I climb the stairs to the second floor in silence. “Sit down,” I tell him as we enter the bathroom together. He plops down on the toilet seat and rolls his shirt sleeve up while I open the cabinet to find a first aid kit. “It’s not deep,” he notes, checking the cut himself.

“Does it hurt?” I ask. I quickly roll my eyes. “Shit, of course it hurts…” “It’s not bad,” he chuckles. “I’ve…” “Had worse?” I finish his sentence. “Yeah.” I dab a bit of cotton with rubbing alcohol. “I’m really sorry about all this, Tobias…” I mutter as I wipe the blood away from the gash. “I wish I could believe it wasn’t my fault, but…” I find a few butterfly bandages in the bottom of the kit. He reaches out and grabs my hand. “Claire… nothing he said makes me feel differently about you.” I pause and a smile touches my lips. “Thank you.” I start bandaging his

wound, taking my time to line them up just right. “But…” he sighs. “What?” I ask. “What is it with girls and bad boys?” “What, like you don’t qualify?” I tease. He tilts his head. “I have good reasons for doing what I do.” “I’m not going to argue with that,” I say, “but still.” I tape an extra bandage over the wound, covering the entire area. “I guess… they have ways of making us feel special. They know exactly what to say to mess us up so we don’t even realize that they’re… hurting us—” “Claire,” he whispers.

I shake my head and lay a bit more tape down to attach the bandage to his arm. “That’s the best I can do…” I say, staring at the covered wound. “It’s pretty good,” he says as he checks it. “Think it’ll affect the fight tomorrow night?” I ask. “No way.” “Good.” I smile. “If anyone deserves to be Alpha, Tobias, it’s you.” “I’m not doing this to be an Alpha,” he says. “I know. You’re doing this for her.” I brush my fingers through his thick, black hair. “But you can do it for you, too.” He stands up. “How about I do it

for you instead?” I bite my inner cheek. As much as I hate to admit it, watching Tobias fight Rick left me buzzing for more inside. “Sure,” I say. I hear Charlie’s feet on the stairs and I take a quick step back. “You should get some sleep.” “I’d rather stay up and make sure he doesn’t come back.” “Tobias…” I whisper. “Get some sleep.” He flexes his jaw and exhales slowly. “All right.” His hand brushes my cheek and I quiver as his thumb traces a line along my bottom lip. ***

I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face. There’s the slightest hint of fear in the back of my mind when I think of Rick wandering around out there, but the memory of Tobias’ lips overwhelms every other sensation. I step out into the hallway just as Tobias’ door opens across from mine. “Hey,” I chuckle at him. “Good morning—” Tobias yawns. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” “I slept enough,” he assures me. “I’ll get more rest later.” “Where are you going now?” I ask. “I need to get in some training.” “Oh, I see,” I tease, stepping closer. “You’re going to distract me while I try

get my chores done. Is that it?” He grins. “That’s the plan.” I roll my eyes. “You’d think Charlie would let me have a few days off for my birthday or something.” “Good luck with that,” he jokes. The phone rings downstairs. “I broke my arm when I was thirteen, I still had to get up and milk the cows.” I chuckle. “I’m not the least bit surprised.” Charlie’s bedroom door opens and Tobias and I both jump away from each other. I look at Charlie and he rolls his eyes. “Just keep it out of the bubble of my senses, you two,” he says as he steps downstairs to answer the phone. I stand frozen against my door.

“What does that mean?” I whisper to Tobias. “I don’t know…” He raises an eyebrow and closes the gap between us. “But I’m not going to ask questions.” I look up at him and smile as his lips brush against mine. “Tobias—” Charlie calls from the bottom of the stairs. We head into the stairwell together. “I know, I know,” I say to Charlie. “I have chores to start—” “No chores today, Claire,” he says, his voice low. “Tobias…” I look at Charlie and a feeling of dread washes over me. “What is it?” Tobias asks. Charlie scratches the back of his

head as hesitation touches his breath. “Tobias, your sister passed this morning,” he finally says. I turn to Tobias and my heart breaks. He stands at the top of the stairs with an emotionless expression. “When?” he asks. “Just now,” Charlie answers. Tobias’ mouth opens, then closes again just as quickly, leaving his face a blank, white canvas. I reach out, but he moves away before I can touch him. He marches down the stairs, ignoring me and Charlie, and shoves the front door open. “Tobias—” I call out his name, but he doesn’t look back. Charlie exhales slowly. He’s not

nearly as good at hiding his emotions as his son is. His grief shows through his eyes; a father that’s lost his baby girl. I hold back my own tears and lower myself down to sit on the stairs. “Charlie, I am so sorry for your loss,” I tell him. It makes me feel awful to say something so scripted, but I suppose phrases like these are cliche for a reason. He nods and glances at the front door again before looking back at me. “Look, I have to go to St. Louis and take care of…” His voice trails off. “Go,” I say. “We’ll be okay.” “Keep an eye on him,” he says. “He won’t take this well.” “Of course.”

He flexes his jaw and steps back into the kitchen. A few moments later, he comes back to the stairs with his cell phone in hand. “Let me know if he thinks about doing something stupid, would ya?” “Yes.” “My number is on the fridge.” Charlie grabs his keys off the table by the door. “I’ll be back late tonight, I think.” I nod and sit still until I hear his truck on the driveway.

Chapter 13 I’ll Take Care Of You The sound of fists striking leather fills my ears before I even make it to the barn. I step inside to see Tobias slamming hits into the punching bag over and over again. He keeps his back to me, seemingly unaware of my presence. Either that, or he doesn’t care that I’m here. I move behind him and lean against the ladder that leads up to the loft. A tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away and Tobias continues pounding away at the

bag. Finally, I can’t take the sound anymore. “Tobias, what are you doing?” I ask him. He pauses, briefly lowering his hands, but he doesn’t look at me. “I’m training.” He raises his hands again, his fingers rolling down into tight fists. They connect with the bag so hard, it knocks against the wall behind it. “Tobias, stop,” I say. Blood has started to seep from the wound on his arm, leaving dark red spots against the bandage. “You’re going to hurt yourself —” “I don’t care.” “I do.” He ignores me and thrusts his fists

even harder against the bag. I stand up and walk over to him, ignoring the fear growing in my gut. “Tobias!” I shout. He drops his hands and spins around to look at me. “What else would you have me do, Claire?” he asks, breathing hard. “I know you’re angry,” I say, “and you have every right to be, but… Tobias, you don’t have to fight anymore.” He shakes his head. “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t.” I swallow the rock forming in my throat. “Mary’s—” “Don’t say her name.” I flinch, but I can’t stop the words. “She’s gone, Tobias.” He takes a deep breath, staring

down at me as if I were his enemy. “I know,” he mutters. “So…” I keep my voice as steady as I can. “You don’t have to fight anymore.” “No, Claire,” he says. “I have an even better reason to take him down now. For good.” My jaw drops slowly as he turns back around to face the bag. “Don’t say that, Tobias—” “He put her in that bed, Claire—” He slams into the bag. “He deserves worse.” “You can’t…” I hesitate. “You can’t kill him, Tobias.” “Why not?” “It’s not right…” I beg. “If he fights

back—” “He won’t get the chance,” he growls. “And if he does, I don’t think your father wants to bury two children in one week!” He spins back around, towering above me in anger. “Since when do you fucking care, huh?” he bites. “You were supposed to be gone by now—” I raise my hand and slap it across his face. Pain shoots through my fingers, climbing all the way up to my elbow. Tears plummet down my cheeks. I jump back, stunned by what I’ve done. “Oh, god—” I cry to myself, covering my face in my hands. I can’t bring myself to look

up at him. “I didn’t mean to—” “Claire—” I feel his hands on me, but I push away from him. “Don’t touch me…” He cups my face, refusing to let me stray from him. “Claire… look at me.” I open my eyes and his face fills my vision. “I’m sorry, Tobias—” “No,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You have no reason to be.” I step back and his hands fall from my cheeks. “So much for being untouchable,” I whisper. “Not to you.” He pulls me back in, holding me so close that our lips touch. “Never to you, Claire.” I quiver in his arms. My heart thumps loudly in my ears, overwhelming

all the other sounds around me. “Tobias… I—” He silences me with a kiss. It’s long and slow, full of passion and love. His tongue massages mine, allowing me to experience his intoxicating flavor. It makes me dizzy and I fall deeper into his embrace. “Tobias,” I whisper, “take comfort in me.” Tobias looks into my eyes and I see his desire staring back at me. “Claire, if we do that, then there’s no going back,” he says. “I don’t want to go back,” I say. “I want you.” I kiss him again and he returns my kisses with even more desire than before.

*** Tobias travels down my body, leaving a trail of warm kisses against my flesh as he goes. His breath skirts across my skin as his breathing intensifies. I can’t move. I can’t think. I lie here on his bed, taken completely by his passions. He moves between my legs and I feel his hardness press against my engorged bud. It sends a shock wave up my spine and he silences my sudden moan with a long, hard kiss. He cups his hand behind my head, forcing even more of his kiss upon me. I relish in it and taste his flavorful tongue against mine. His thick shaft pushes against my

opening and my body clenches with tension. Tobias pauses, retreating his hips. “Claire…” He searches my face, which is no doubt filled with fear. “Relax,” he smiles. I let out a soft chuckle to hide my hesitation. “I’m fine,” I whisper. He shifts to his side and kisses me again. “Don’t worry, Claire,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.” His fingers tickle my skin as he reaches his hand south. I kiss him again, blinded by the unknown, as he spreads my folds with his fingertips. Desire aches within me, begging for him to go further. I moan as he traces small, smooth circles around my swollen bud, teasing my pleasures to come out and

play. I breathe deep, holding still to allow the throbbing to intensify. My hips buck against his hand with a mind of their own. My wetness surges, begging to feel him inside. I twitch and squirm beneath his touch, but that only makes him press a little harder. “Tobias…” I moan his name through clenched teeth as the climax takes hold of me. He takes me with a firm kiss and holds me tight against him until the storm subsides. I breathe slowly, barely able to feel the kisses he leaves on my neck. He keeps his hands on me, touching me, caressing me, until I feel his finger slide inside of me. I cry out from the sweet sensation as my body gets what it wants.

His thick digit moves in me. He plays me like a concert pianist. I’ll sing any note he wants me to, as long as he doesn’t stop. He pushes a second finger into me and I bite my lips to keep from screaming. I feel the stretch and quiver as it creates a powerful elixir of pain and pleasure inside. There’s a smile on his lips when he kisses me again. The pressure builds inside of me, doubling back for another climax, but he slides his fingers out of me and I whimper with disappointment. Tobias balances himself above me and positions himself between my legs. That fear and hesitation I felt before has completely disappeared, leaving an

undeniable passion behind. A passion for him. He said he’d take care of me and I fully intend on taking care of him, too. His thickness splits my folds. I lie back and close my eyes to focus all of my energy on feeling him as he pushes inside. His lips graze my neck, tasting my skin as he slowly moves in and out of me. I wrap my arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. I moan softly against his lips. Sweat drips off his brow onto mine. My entire body quivers beneath him. Jolts of electric passion course through me as he holds me against his bed. He grunts with each slow and steady thrust he gives me. He’s in complete control of me, of himself, of

us, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. His strength takes me over, making me feel warm and untouched inside, full of new sensations I never knew I deserved. “Are you okay?” he whispers. I smile back at him as a tremble of pleasure rocks my inner walls. “Yes,” I moan. He plants a firm kiss on my lips. I can feel the desire building inside of him. He’s holding back, hesitant to use his experience on me. “Keep going,” I urge, begging to feel more of him. Tobias reaches down my body and grips my knees to adjust his angle. I feel him slide deeper inside of me, filling me in the most perfect way. I hold him tighter, biting my lips to contain my moans as he grinds me harder against the

bed. I catch the smirk on his face before he groans and thrusts me a little deeper. He gazes into my open eyes and his love for me shines back. With a quick, sudden motion, he scoops me off the bed and wraps my legs around his waist. I yelp in surprise and he laughs with me as he sits back and holds me against him. His lips find mine again and I lower myself back down onto his thick root. I sigh with every inch of him, lost in the grips of pleasure. He moves me on him with great ease, forcing me towards the point of no return faster than I can process the intoxicating joy. I cry out, but he silences me with another hard kiss and wraps his strong arms around me to hold me in place.

“Tobias—” I whisper his name as another climax tears me apart. He pauses and lets the experience trigger his own body’s demise. His ravenous groan fills my ears as his tense muscles twitch with pleasure in my arms. I lie back against his pillows and he falls forward to lay his head on my breast. We breathe deep and slow, soothing our wrecked bodies together. “Tobias,” I say his name again. “Claire,” he sighs. “Promise me that no one will die tonight.” I feel his firm fingers touch my skin, traveling up my arms to embrace my trembling hands. There’s a hesitation on his breath as he raises his head and

kisses my skin. “I promise, Claire,” he says, his eyes down. “Promise me again,” I say. He looks up at me with his dark, green eyes. I feel his resentment, but he knows I’m right. Killing Pike won’t bring Mary back. It might make him feel better for a few minutes, but the consequences are too dire for him to ignore. “I promise,” he finally says again. “No one else is gonna die tonight.” He pushes off the bed and stands up to gather his clothes. I watch his body glisten with sweat as he moves around the room. “I know you hate me for it,” I say, “but if you kill him, I’ll lose you forever and I can’t…” He sighs, shaking his head. “No,

Claire…” he says. “I don’t hate you. This isn’t your fault.” “It’s not yours either.” “I don’t believe that.” “Tobias.” I slide off the bed to stand in front of him. “She made those choices. There’s nothing you could have done to stop her.” His chest heaves up and down. “You don’t know that.” “Yes, I do.” I reach out to cup his face and he looks down at me with sad eyes. “This place… the things I’ve learned here, it’s saved my life. She saved my life. If you can take any comfort from what’s happened, make it that.” Tobias closes his eyes and inhales

a deep breath before opening them again. “She really would have liked you…” he mutters. I lean in and wrap my arms around him in a sweet embrace, never wanting to let him go. “I’m sorry it had to be like this,” I whisper. He holds me close. “Me, too,” he says, kissing my hair. “We should get going.” I pull away and nod, dreading the hours to come.

Chapter 14 A Better Man My heart thumps wildly in my chest, a mixture of fear and excitement fueling my every thought and feeling, as we approach the city limits of St. Louis. Tobias turns off the highway onto a dirt road, taking us farther into the darkness than I’d like. I grip his waist a little tighter as the uneven terrain rocks the motorbike back and forth. He holds us steady and even manages to lay his hand on mine to soothe me for a moment before gripping the handlebars again.

We see the bright lights before the nightclub comes into view. Spotlights swing wildly off the sides of the building, mimicking the excitement of all those around it. I look about in confusion, thinking that these people seem very out of place for an illegal MMA fight, but then I realize that the short skirts and popped collars standing around probably have no idea there’s a secret underground tournament happening around them. Tobias parks the bike and immediately takes my hand to lead me through the packed parking lot. There’s a long line of people waiting out front, each of them dying to get inside what looks to be the latest and hottest

nightspot, but we walk right past it and into the dark alley between the buildings. “Stay close to me,” Tobias mutters as we pass under the broken street lamps. We reach the back of the building and Tobias knocks loudly on the black door. Almost immediately, the door opens and we’re greeted by a familiar face. “Toby!” Amy shouts, her smile stretching from ear-to-ear. Her voice is barely audible over the shouting crowd gathered behind her. A thunderous roar cries out once they see Tobias standing in the doorway and they quickly start

chanting his name. Amy’s eyes fall on me. “And Claire— lovely as always.” I smile back at her, but Amy quickly loses her grin when she notices Tobias’ unamused face. “I heard about Mary, Tobias,” she says with an even, firm tone. “I’m sorry.” “So am I,” he replies. She steps to the side with a sympathetic nod to let the two of us inside while Tobias reaches into his pocket and silently slaps money into Amy’s small hands. She gives it a quick count. “They’re waiting for you in the back.” She points to the other side of the room and I look around at the crowd. It’s easily five times the size of what gathers late at

night back home. The room is packed to the brim, the majority of them stuffed around the large and professionallooking octagon at the center of the room, eagerly awaiting the blood and carnage they’ve been promised. This arena obvious has a much larger budget than the one back home. Amy takes a step closer to Tobias and lowers her voice for only his ears. “The Dames have also asked me to pass onto you that we expect a professional fight tonight. The ring is no place to settle old grudges.” “I got it,” he mutters. Amy folds the money and stuffs it inside the glass jar stashed under her arm. “Once Pike makes his fashionably

late entrance, we’ll get started,” she says with a smile. “Come on,” Tobias says to me, pulling me along with him. “Oh!” Amy steps in front of us, standing firm in Tobias’ large shadow. “No groupies allowed in the locker room. St. Louis’ rule, not mine.” I drop Tobias’ hand. “I’ll be fine out here,” I say. “Go.” He hesitates. “You sure?” “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Amy offers. “Trust me, there’s only one fight happening in this room tonight. She’ll be fine.” A knock strikes the door and she turns on her thick-heeled boots to answer it. “Go,” I tell him again. “I’ll see you

after.” He pulls me back in. “Be careful,” he whispers in my ear. “I should be telling you that,” I say. His lips twitch once before he tilts my face up to kiss me. There’s fear in my eyes, but he stares back at me with strength and confidence. “I love you, Claire,” he says. My heart swells, sending warmth throughout my entire body. “I—” “Don’t,” he interrupts. “Tell me after.” I nod and kiss him one more time before he pulls away and walks into the crowd. I watch him go, regretting every step he takes that I don’t stop him. “Well, isn’t that sweet?”

I don’t turn around. I fill my lungs with air and open my mouth to scream for Tobias, but I feel the cold hand wrap around my neck and the sharpness of a blade dig into my side. “Shh, shh,” Rick whispers into my ear. “None of that now.” He puts pressure on me to lead me away from Amy. I look over at her, but she’s far too preoccupied with the new arrivals at the door to notice my struggle. “Don’t say a word, Claire. This way…” I plant my feet into the floor, but he jabs at me a little harder with his knife and we step even deeper into the unsuspecting crowd. “Let me go, Rick,” I tell him. “Not a chance,” he says, pushing

me further towards the center. “Stop.” He squeezes the back of my neck and I slow to a halt about ten feet away from the cage. “This view should do us just fine.” “What are you doing here?” I ask. “You know exactly why I’m here, Claire.” “You’re too late.” I crane my neck to look at him. “I’m not going back with you.” “We’ll see,” he smirks, searching my face with amusement. The crowd screams behind us and we turn to see Pike and his people coming through the black door. “Ahh, good,” Rick says. “This will all be over soon.” His eyes fall on mine.

“The suspense was killing me.” “Let me go right now, or—” “You’ll what?” he asks. “He’ll kill you,” I finish. He rolls his eyes and grins. “Nice threat,” he jokes. “It’s not a threat,” I say, shaking my head. “You have no idea what he’s been through—” “I know all about little cousin Mary’s death, Claire,” he says. “No one cares about some dead girl out in hillbilly country that couldn’t hold her booze.” “He does. He’s out for blood, Rick.” “So am I…” He smirks at me again. “No one takes what’s mine and gets

away with it.” “You’re delusional.” He chuckles. “That’s a big word for you. What else did you learn out here? Square dancing?” “You—” “Shh!” He presses his nails into the back of my neck to silence me. “The fight is starting!” I look to the arena and watch as Lillian Tombs climbs inside. With her arms raised above her head, she waves and beckons to all of us. “Hello, St. Louis! Welcome to the final hour of this year’s Midwest Alpha tournament!” She tries to wrangle in the crowd, but they pulse with an insatiable hunger. “Ladies — Ladies…” Lillian cries

out. “Gentlemen! We’re not animals here!” The people laugh and scream. “Okay, maybe a little…” She jokes with the audience, playing with them, until finally bringing a finger to her thick, red lips. The voices cease. She controls them with a subtle charisma and they eat out of the palm of her hand. “Tonight… is the fight we’ve all been dreaming about since their names first touched mortal ears: The Punisher and The Untouchable!” The crowd splits on either side of the arena, allowing for the fighters to take their walks towards the stage. They scream their names over and over again, rocking the room with a rumbling bass. I catch sight of Tobias at the other side

and Rick’s fingers cut into my neck a little deeper. Tobias climbs into the arena, his thick muscles flexing with anticipation. His eyes, dark and cold, land on Pike at the other side of the ring and don’t look away from him. They won’t either, I know they won’t. They won’t search for me. They won’t see Rick’s hand around my throat or the knife he has shoved against my back. I’m a distraction and it’s the last thing Tobias will risk right now. I hear Rick audibly scoff as he looks Tobias up and down. Even under these circumstances, I can’t pull my eyes away from his form, fit and perfect beneath his tight black, shorts. I lick my

lips as my body recalls the experience of his bed mere hours before. “I hear an athlete performs better after getting laid,” Rick seethes in my ear. “How long after I left did you wait before giving it up, huh?” “Go to hell,” I spit. “Him first.” Lillian holds up her hands at the center of the ring, once again in a futile attempt to silence the pulsating crowd. Finally, the silence starts to shift in her favor and she points her left hand towards Tobias. “In this corner, I give you Tobias the Untouchable!” The crowd erupts with chanting voices, calling out his name again. Rick

twists the knife against my skin and I wince from the sudden pain. “And in this corner…” Lillian points to her right. “The defending Alpha and my personal favorite. The one and only… Pike the Punisher!” Hands clap and boots stomp as Pike raises his hands to delight his fans. Once again, Tobias stands still, refusing to play games of showmanship. Still, the crowd battles it out, equally chanting both names with excitement. Lillian retreats from the arena and reaches for her whistle. Pike bounces fast on his toes. His entire body twists back and forth, loose as rubber, while Tobias stands as firm as stone. I look at him, my heart a swelling

battleground of love and terror. He raises his thick fists and lets them hover in front of his smooth cheeks. Protect your face. The whistle sings and the final fight begins. There’s a long moment of suspense as Pike and Tobias linger in their corners, each refusing to attack one another. Tobias never throws the first punch and Pike knows it. He shifts back and forth, teasing Tobias, baiting him with his own silly flair. “Come on!” Pike shouts. Tobias doesn’t budge. Only his eyes move, flicking around with Pike’s quick movements. Finally, impatience gets the best of

Pike and he finally lunges with his bare fists held high. Tobias’ body tightens, his muscles flexing with anticipation of the first blow. I cringe as Pike’s fist strikes Tobias’ ribs, but I force my eyes open. Tobias grabs Pike’s wrist from the air and yanks him forward, pulling him off balance. With lightning speed, he lands a quick uppercut against Pike’s chin. Pike stumbles backward and shakes it off as blood dribbles down his mouth. Tobias charges forward and sweeps low, knocking Pike down to his knees. He reaches down and takes hold of Pike’s thick neck, squeezing him tight. Panic shines in Pike’s eyes before he forces them closed to shield himself

from Tobias’ coming fist. It connects with his eyes and Tobias delivers a pattern of punches repeatedly to his face. The rage builds in his eyes, the same rage I saw in the barn when he spoke of killing him. I bite my cheek as another tear falls down my face. Tobias promised me he’d spare him. He said it twice, but I didn’t factor in the adrenaline. I step forward, but Rick snatches me back. “Tobias!” I scream, but I can barely even hear it myself as they crowd begs for blood. Suddenly, Tobias stops, his fist raised. He takes a breath, frozen in his stance, staring deeper into the eyes of the man that killed his little sister, then

finally drops him to the floor. Pike flips over onto his hands and knees to crawl away from Tobias into the corner nearest to us. He spits his own blood and teeth out of his mouth, but shows no other signs of backing down or tapping out. I look at Tobias’ face and smile with relief, but I still have to remind myself to breathe. “I wouldn’t celebrate too early if I were you, Claire,” Rick says into my ear. “You already tried to beat him,” I fire back. “It’s over.” “You actually think he’s better than me?” “He is better than you, Rick.”

“You’re wrong, Claire. Look at him.” My eyes look for Tobias and I watch him pace about the ring, waiting for Pike to get back up. “You’re scared of me? What do you think he’s capable of doing to you?” “He’d never touch me.” “Or so he says,” he growls in my ear. “You can call me a lot of things — a liar isn’t one of them. Be honest with yourself, Claire. You feel no safer with him than you did with me.” “That’s not true. It doesn’t matter anyway. You couldn’t beat him then and you really won’t beat him after he finds out about this. You failed.” “Oh, yes. I did… but I get the feeling he won’t.”

I turn back to the stage and look into Pike’s bloodthirsty face. His lips turn up, teasing a deep secret that no one else can see. I look back at Rick and he smiles at me, baring his teeth with sweet amusement. “What did you do, Rick?” I whimper as another tear rolls down my cheek. “That’s the thing about small towns, Claire. Everyone is awfully chatty, especially the dorky checkout girl at the market. It wasn’t too difficult to find out how Tobias the Untouchable spends his nights.” He yanks me back and looks down at me with black eyes. “I told you I wasn’t leaving this dump without you. If getting him out of the picture is what it takes, then…” His eyes fall back to the

cage. I follow his gaze and panic grips my chest as Pike pulls a metal shiv from his shorts and hides it inside his thick palm. “You know, Claire,” Rick continues. “If I were a better man, I’d tell you to look away, but… I really want you to watch this.” He holds my neck tighter, forcing me to keep my eyes forward. “No!” I scream. I jump forward, but Rick pulls me closer to him and wraps his arm around my throat. He pushes his knife further into my side, scratching deep enough to draw my blood. Pike stands up, spins on his heels,

and lunges for Tobias. Tobias is ready for him and easily knocks him back against the cage. But still, Pike smiles wide and rushes Tobias, this time wrapping his arm about his neck to draw him in. He pulls the shiv back and plunges it into Tobias’ side. I cry out as his body tumbles to the floor.

Chapter 15 The Untouchable “Tobias!” I wipe the tears from my eyes to fight my blurring vision. The crowd boos, instantly turning on Pike the Punisher. Judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t give a shit. He holds up his hands in personal victory and walks circles around Tobias’ limp form. “Get up!” I scream. Rick gives my hair a firm yank. “This is all your fault, Claire,” he

growls. “Remember that.” I twist in his arms, trying to break free, but I cry out in pain as his knife slices me a little deeper. My breath catches in my throat as Tobias moves on the mat, shifting his hands beneath him to push himself up. Pike notices and walks back over to bend down and slam his fist against Tobias’ face. Untouchable. “Stop it!” I shout. Several in the crowd approach the cage to try and climb inside to stop the fight, but Pike easily knocks them back out. The rest of them cower away as soon as they catch sight of the blood lust in Pike’s eyes. He barks and laughs at

them while Tobias attempts to pull himself up again. The screams of the crowd draw Pike’s attentions back on Tobias. He watches with wide eyes as Tobias grips the shiv and pulls it out of his side. Blood spills out of the wound, staining his white skin as it falls down to his feet. I look at his face, at his tragic and black eyes, and know that there’s nothing holding him back this time. Tobias is going to kill him. “Pike only had one condition,” Rick whispers in my ear, his lips curling. “He’d take Tobias down for me if he got ten minutes alone with you.” My body shakes with rage as his chuckle fills my head. “I promised him twenty.”

I raise my foot and slam it down on his as hard as I can. The blow shakes him off balance and he drops his arm, allowing me to spin around. I curl my fingers into fists and raise them up to my face. He looks at me in shock as I shift my feet and twist into a fighting stance. “You bitch!” he growls. I draw back my fist and aim it for his nose. It connects with him, hard. Blood immediately shoots from his nostrils. I ignore the pain firing down my wrist and snap back to deliver a second, harder blow to his eye. Rick tumbles backward and falls under the feet of the screaming crowd. I spin back to the arena. “Tobias!” I shout.

Tobias charges forward and strikes Pike’s surprised face with fierce punches. I push forward, shoving my way closer to the cage, fighting to get there before it’s too late. “Tobias!” I scream his name, praying that he can hear me, but his eyes never stray from his target. Pike falls to his knees. Tobias grabs his head and digs his nails into Pike’s shaggy hair to hold his limp body up and expose his neck. He readies the shiv and lays it against Pike’s throat. “Tobias!” I reach the cage and grab it to pull myself up, screaming as loud as I can. “Tobias, stop!” He blinks and finally looks up at

me. His eyes beg me to look away, to avert my gaze from what he has to do, but I shake my head. “Don’t…” I cry. A sob chokes in my throat, taking my voice away from me. If you kill him, I’ll lose you forever. Tobias closes his eyes. His fingers twitch, just an inch away from his revenge. I fill my lungs with burning air. “Tobias, I love you.” He opens his eyes and his grief shines through them. I see his pain. I see every bit of regret he’s carried on his shoulders since all of this first began. I grip the cage and let the rusted metal dig

into my skin as I pull myself closer to him. I can’t imagine the torture he’s feeling, but there’s no way I’m going to let him carry it alone anymore. Finally, he looks back at me and nods. I sigh with relief as Tobias lets go of Pike and his body falls to his feet. He walks away from him, tossing the bloody shiv away as he goes. I jump off the cage and rush to be by his side as he limps off the stage. I throw my arms around him and I feel him wince with pain, but it doesn’t stop him from holding me even tighter. The crowd sits in awe and silence, their eyes wide with confusion over what just happened. A few of them climb

into the ring to check on Pike and confirm that he’s still breathing. I reach for Tobias’ side and my hands immediately turn red with his blood. “Come on,” I say, sniffing through tears. I position myself beneath his arm. “We have to get you some help…” “I’ll be all right,” he grunts. “Don’t you dare say you’ve had worse—” I look up as Rick steps in front of us. Blood pours down his nose and his vengeful eyes show pink and bloodshot. “Claire…” he mutters through his teeth. “Rick, leave now and don’t come back,” I tell him. “I’m not—” “I won’t stop him next time.” I

hold Tobias a little tighter and I stare back at Rick with anger. Rick’s eyes move back and forth between us. His expression shifts from amusement, to annoyance, and finally, defeat. He turns around and disappears into the crowd without saying another word. “Did you do that?” Tobias asks me, pointing at his face. “Yeah,” I answer. “Damn…” he chuckles, wincing in pain. “Not bad...” “Don’t talk. Save your strength.” I reach into my pocket for my phone as I pull him towards the exit. ***

“No hospitals.” I sigh once more, my eyes falling to Tobias’ wound. “That’s not up to you.” I put more pressure on it with my rolled up jacket and he cringes from the pain. “I’m barely bleeding. It’s just a scratch, Claire.” “Stand up and say that,” I challenge him. He glares at me from his leaning position against his bike seat, but quickly shifts his weight to stand on his feet. He stumbles as he moves, but eventually rights himself and drops his hands to his sides. Pain fills his face, but he takes a deep breath and cracks a forced smile. “It’s just a scratch,” he

wheezes quickly and then immediately sits back down. The parking lot is still packed with cars, but the excitement has dwindled since the minutes following the fight. Tobias wanted to leave immediately, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting him ride his bike in this condition and I don’t know the first thing about riding a motorbike myself. He’s also half-naked, clad in just his black shorts and a thick layer of blood and sweat — not the best attire for a late night ride down the highway. “Oh, good. You two are still here.” I turn around to find Amy walking towards us. She holds up a small bundle of clothing and passes it to me. “I

acquired your clothes…” she says to Tobias. “Thanks, Amy,” I tell her. I unfold his jeans and turn to him to help him get dressed, but he quickly snatches them from me. “Tobias—” “I got it.” He moves slowly and bends down to start sliding into them one leg at a time, wincing from the pain the entire time. “Oh, yeah. It’s just a scratch. No worries,” I bite back with sarcasm. He stands himself upright and zips them up with a smug look on his face. “Also…” Amy continues, pulling her eyes away from Tobias’ sweaty body, “the Dames and I have voted — unanimously — that Pike the Punisher

is banned for life from all future Alpha tournaments. We’ve made contact with other leagues as well. He’ll be blacklisted in twelve states by morning — another twenty by Monday.” “He should be in jail,” I argue. “I would report him myself for… you know, stabbing you, but that would draw some very unwanted attention to our operation,” she says to Tobias. “You understand.” “I do,” he says. “Lastly… I’ve come to deliver this.” She reaches into her jacket and withdraws a large stack of money, several inches thick, crudely wrapped together with a rubber band. “I’d say you earned it, Tobias.”

He leans back against the bike. “I don’t want it,” he says, looking away. I hold out my hand and Amy drops the stack of bills into my palm. “He’ll take it. Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” she grins. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back inside. The Dames are brainstorming the details for next year’s fights.” She looks at Tobias. “You in, Toby?” “I think I’ll sit the next one out, actually,” he mutters. “Boo,” Amy says. “Maybe I can pencil in a surprise appearance from this year’s reigning Alpha…?” she teases. He glares back at her silently and she sighs. “Fine.” “Guess you’ll have to find another

local to earn next year’s bonus,” I joke. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” she considers with a raised brow. “We should have lunch. You’re going back to Chicago soon, right?” “Umm…” I say. “There’s been a little change in plans.” A light shines behind her eyes. “Really?” “Yeah, I’m sticking around here for a little while longer.” She stares back at me and a devious smile crosses her red lips. “What?” “Well…” She crosses her arms about her chest. “Lillian was so impressed with the talent this year, she wants to expand our search, establish a few new branches in our area—”

“Amy, what are you doing?” Tobias interrupts with a cautious tone. “I’m recruiting your kissing cousin, Toby,” she answers bluntly. “What?” I ask. “No, you’re not,” he argues. “Yes, I am.” Amy smiles at me. “What do you say, Claire?” “What do I say to what?” I ask, my eyes bouncing between them. Tobias pushes himself off the bike and grabs my hand. “Say no, Claire.” “Say no to what?” I ask again. “To becoming an Alpha Dame,” Amy says, “like me.” “Me?” I shake my head. “Why me?” “I saw the way you handled

yourself with Rick,” she answers. “Lillian did, too.” “I was just protecting myself…” “And that kind of finesse is exactly what she looks for.” “Claire…” Tobias squeezes my fingers. “No.” “Alpha Dames are the most respected women in the sport, Tobias,” Amy says to him. “Why wouldn’t you want that for her?” He exhales, but says nothing to argue with her further. She reaches into her bra and pulls out a black business card. “Give me a call if you want to talk it over, Claire,” she says, easily slipping the card between my fingers.

“Okay…” I say. Amy presses her fingers to her red lips and blows us a quick kiss. “Goodnight, y’all.” “Goodnight…” I stare at the card as her heels tap away into the parking lot. A bright red font spells out Amy’s name in cursive writing, along with the Midwest Alphas logo shining next to it. I glide my fingers across it to feel the embossed lettering tickle my fingertips as a switch flicks on in my head. “Claire…” I look at Tobias and stuff the card into my back pocket as Charlie’s truck comes into view of the parking lot. Tobias drops my hand. “You called my dad?” he asks.

“Yes, I did,” I say, crossing my arms. He leans back against the bike with shaking limbs. “I would have preferred a hospital.” The truck stops in front of us and Charlie steps out. To his credit, he says nothing as I move under Tobias’ arm and walk him slowly towards the truck. He opens the passenger side door and we both help Tobias step up into the seat. “What happened?” Charlie asks me after I close the door. We step over to the motorbike and start rolling it towards the back of the truck. “Factory equipment malfunction,” I answer. I notice his lips twitch as we bend down to raise the bike into the

truck bed. “And this factory equipment…” Charlie says. “Is it still running?” I nod. “Yes.” He sighs and closes the bed. “Good.”

Epilogue “Protect your face.” A smile teases my lips as I lower my fists and turn around. Tobias steps into the barn, limping softly on his right foot as he walks. “You should be resting,” I say, catching my breath. “And using the crutch Charlie got you.” “I don’t need a crutch,” he argues. I wipe the sweat off my brow and pull the velcro tabs free on my gloves. His eyes move down my body, taking in the sight of my tight and sweaty workout clothes. “Looks like you’re taking this pretty

seriously.” I look back at the punching bag. “It helps me think,” I say. I peel the gloves off my hands and toss them into my gym duffel on the floor. “What are you thinking about?” he asks me. I take a deep breath. “A lot.” “Like Amy’s offer?” It’s been a week since the tournament and the topic hasn’t come up yet. Between his fresh wounds and Mary’s funeral, the last few days have been rough on Tobias. He’s healing, in more ways than one, and we’ve taken comfort in each other whenever possible. It’s been a decent enough distraction, but eventually, we both knew

we’d have to talk about Amy’s offer to join the Alpha Dames sooner or later. “Yes,” I finally answer. He sighs. “Claire, you don’t want to get involved with them.” “You did,” I point out. “That was different.” “Was it?” I ask. “Yes. It was a means to an end, not a long-term commitment.” “You told me I should start over, Tobias,” I say. “That I should be someone better. This is my chance.” “Binding yourself to an illegal fighting championship isn’t better, Claire.” “It’s not worse either. When Amy handed me that card, I felt something and

— to be honest — it’s the same kind of something I felt when I met you. Like it was the start of something special.” I reach out to him. “I’m sorry, but… I have to see where this leads.” He flexes his jaw and lets out a long sigh. “Is there anything at all I can say that will change your mind?” “Well… you’re the Alpha, Tobias,” I tease. “Tell me not to go. Tell me that I’m your girl and no one else’s and that I have to do everything you say.” “I said change your mind,” he says with curling lips. “Not turn you on.” I smile, but I let it fade quickly. “Tobias, I won’t do this without you. If the choice is between this or you, I’m going to choose you.”

“I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Claire,” he says. “But Amy’s right. Being a Dame, it commands respect. That kind of respect brings attention — attention from people like Pike and Rick.” “I’ll be protected.” “I know,” he says. “By me.” “What?” “I’ve already spoken with Amy,” he says. “She says it’s uncommon, but not against the rules for Alpha Dames to bring in their own escorts.” “You want to be my bodyguard?” “That’s the deal,” he nods. “I’m never going to be comfortable with you being involved with them, but I can’t stop you either. What I can do is have

your back and if you’re going in, then I’m going with you.” I lean in closer. “What was that about turning me on again?” He lays a hand on my cheek and pulls me in. “I love you, Claire,” he says. “Doing so has brought me nothing but trouble, but… I can’t stop now.” “Tobias the Unstoppable,” I quip. He glares at me through narrow eyelids, but I give him a sweet smile. “I love you, too, Tobias. Doing so has brought me nothing but trouble, but…” I lay a smooth kiss on his lips. “What can I say? I live for a little trouble.”

END OF BOOK ONE

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