No Saint (Wild Men, #6)

by Jo Raven

  ***

  I’m lying in my bed, and sleep eludes me. I’ve been counting glow-in-the-dark stars and I keep losing count. Stars aren’t meant to be counted. Like blessings.

  My phone chimes and looking down, I find one message from Ross The Original Hottie. I tap to open it and find the text followed by a picture of him, and I admit I don’t read the words right away, stroking my fingertips over his photo and wishing I could touch warm skin.

  It’s a close-up shot of his face. He looks like he’s lying down—on his bed, sofa or the floor, impossible to tell—his fair hair fanning out slightly, his eyes half-closed. He’s grinning at me.

  He has written, ‘Wish you were here,’ and unexpectedly my eyes fill with tears.

  What the hell, Luna. Stop this. He’s not far from here. You’re both going to sleep and see each other tomorrow. You don’t have to be with him every second of every day.

  But I want to. It scares me how much I want to.

  ‘Hey,’ I type back. ‘Wish that, too.’

  His next message is a selfie of him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch. So that’s where he is. His head is tilted back, and he’s bare-chested.

  I clap a hand over my mouth, bawling becoming a real possibility. It’s the first time I’ve seen him bared since that day in the stream, and I bet he’s doing this on purpose, showing me his scars, deliberately keeping his T-shirt off.

  There they are, the new scars from the still healing cuts under his ribs. The big, red scar from his father’s knife. The swan tattoo over his heart. And the older, white scars on his shoulders which I know continue down his back from his father’s belt.

  ‘You are beautiful,’ I type and send the text before I lose my nerve.

  He really is. I can’t get enough, blowing up the picture for a better look at his eyes, his mouth, his pecs, his ripped stomach. Good God, this man, he’s sculpted as if of marble.

  ‘I prefer the term “hot stuff”’ he informs me, and I can almost hear his teasing voice in my ear. ‘Hell, “stud” would do, too.’

  I grin in the darkness, speckled with the faint greenish light from the stars stuck to my ceiling. ‘Fine, Stud-Muffin.’

  ‘Well, that’s where I draw the line.’ A pause in his typing. Then, ‘Send me a pic of you?’

  I hesitate. I swear, after convincing myself that I’m now self-assured and secure in my self-image, I’m not ready to take a selfie of myself without checking my hair and putting on some make-up. Will it show a double-chin? Will it show my not so perfect skin?

  Oh, God’s sake. He just sent me a picture of all his scars.

  Taking a deep breath, I smile for him and snap a picture. The flash almost blinds me, and when I glance at the pic quickly, I wince a little.

  I send it before I change my mind, and type below ‘Hello from the dark side.’

  No messages appear for long minutes and I absently chew on a fingernail, regretting my impulse to send that pic.

  But then another chime sounds and I tap the message open to find a pic of... textile? A pile of denim...?

  His crotch. Oh my God, he’s hard, that’s the tent of his hard-on inside his jeans.

  A giggle escapes me, and the next moment a spark lights up in my belly, making me clench between my legs.

  He’s hard because of me. And I want him. Not creeping out of the house and crossing the woods in the middle of the night to go find him is getting more and more difficult.

  ‘Good night, Ross,’ I finally type. ‘We should sleep.’

  He doesn’t reply for a long time, and I’m already dozing off, images from dreams chasing each other behind my eyelids, when I hear another chime and bring my phone up to see.

  Blearily, I read, ‘You’ll be in my dreams,’ and smile.

  ***

  The next morning, I grab a quick breakfast of toast and coffee and rush out the kitchen door. My shift starts early today, and I was up late, texting with Ross. It’s already way too warm and sticky outside, and I brace myself for the walk to town and the diner, when I hear a faint “woof”.

  I blink in the sunshine and find a little scruffy dog sitting on the porch.

  “Buddy? Whatcha doing here?” My heart is suddenly pounding. Last time I saw Buddy, he led me to Ross, and it was the day Ross almost died. “Is our boy okay? Are you here to tell me something?”

  But Buddy only whines at me and sits there, tongue lolling. He looks like he’s grinning at me, his expression reminding me of Ross when he’s teasing.

  “Luna, who’s there?” Dad calls from inside the house.

  “Buddy. He’s a dog.”

  Dad comes to the kitchen door, a brow raised, an amused smirk on his lips. “I see. Old classmate of yours?”

  “Haha, Dad, very funny.”

  “Hm.”

  I scratch Buddy behind the ears, and blurt out, “Hey, Dad... can we take him in? He’s a stray,” I hurry on to add, “and he’s nice, and he could use a home.”

  Dad chuckles. “Are we still talking about the dog?”

  Confused, I glance back at him. “Er, yeah?”

  He nods. “Well, you know what this means, right? If you take Buddy in, you’re staying in this town to look after him. Or you’ll take the dog with you if you go.”

  I freeze. “Dad...”

  “I know you want to leave, Luna. And I get it. But showing affection to a living creature means a degree of responsibility. You can’t love them and leave them.”

  Are we still talking about the dog?

  I straighten, struggling with my thoughts. “So I can’t love them and leave them—like Mom did with us?”

  He sighs. “Luna...”

  “Sorry. I know.” I lift my hands in surrender. “Aunt Emily told me about Mom and why she left. It’s hard to change the way I’ve thought of her all these years all of a sudden.”

  “Like you’ve been doing with that boy? Changing how you look at him?”

  “Ross. You know?”

  “I’m not deaf or blind, or even all that old.”

  I snicker, some of the tension leaving me. “Okay, Dad. So what is it you think you know?”

  “You like him.” He shrugs, points his spatula at me. “More than a little.” He shoots me a quick glance, as if to confirm his suspicions. “You’re spending lots of time with him. You lie to me and pretend you’re sleeping over at Dena’s.”

  I sputter. “Dad—”

  “It’s okay. You’re an adult now, honey. I can’t dictate your life. But please, don’t lie to me. I only want you to be careful.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you? Is that boy using protection? Are you—”

  “Dad!” I gape at him, horrified. Not the kind of discussion I’d like to have with my dad, thank you very much.

  “Just saying. You’re a kind person, Luna. Sensitive. You have a big heart. You forgive and forget, and take care of people—and dogs.” He lifts a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to retort. “Hear me out. You’ve changed, sure. You’ve become stronger. More confident. But your heart is the same, and that is a good thing. You’re a kind person, like I said. Don’t let anyone take that from you. Be careful, though, of those who will take advantage. Learn to tell apart those who deserve your love from those who only want to hurt you.”

  “Ross wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “You seem so sure.”

  “I am.”

  “Good.”

  The conversation stalls. Buddy barks quietly, as if asking what’s going on.

  “Good boy,” I whisper. “You’ll be fine.”

  Dad’s sigh is a bit exasperated. “Just bring him in, will you? I’ll have to bathe him and we’ll take him to a vet for a check-up before we sign any adoption papers.”

  It startles a laugh out of me. Turning, I go and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you, Dad.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if we could adopt Ross, too, if I can bring him over for a first meeting, but I stop myself. I should pace m
yself, take the time to talk to Josh first.

  Don’t rush this, Luna, I tell myself. You don’t know if Ross wants to be “adopted”. He’s not a stray, he’s a man, and he may not want anything more from you down the line.

  Drawing away, subdued, I go fetch Buddy who follows me easily, as if understanding everything that’s being said, feeling the undercurrents of a fate that’s invisible to me.

  If Buddy’s here for a reason, I hope it will soon become clear. Meanwhile, I need to check on Ross and make sure he’s okay.

  ***

  My day brightens when I spot Ross standing at the bus stop as I enter town. I head his way, relieved beyond words to see him there, safe and sound. Alive. Shaking my head at myself and my paranoia, I still go and take his hand, needing to feel his warm skin and strong muscles.

  He hauls me against his side, wraps an arm around my shoulders, mouth quirking in a sharp, crooked grin. “I was thinking about you.”

  “Good things?” I whisper, aware of hostile gazes drilling into our backs from the few other people waiting for the bus.

  “Always.”

  I hide a smile. I like being held against him, feeling his heart beat, smelling his dark scent.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” he says. “About the letters I told you about. About my lost brother. I have to do something. I can’t ignore this.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve submitted a request to visit Dad in prison. Ask him for the names of the woman and her son. He has the clues. He has to help me find this guy.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  He shrugs in reply.

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “You would?” He sounds surprised.

  “Of course.”

  He ducks his head a little, looking pleased. “Thank you. I... Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to see him, though. He could clam up.”

  The bus arrives in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes, rumbling to a stop in front of us. Everyone hurries to climb inside, but I’m not ready to let Ross go.

  “Hey, did you know? Buddy showed up at our house, and I... I asked Dad if we could keep him. I know he’s your dog, so I hope you don’t mind. If you’d rather have him...?”

  Emotions flit over his face, too quick for me to read them. “No, it’s... fine, it’s good for him to have a real home. I can’t offer him that.”

  “Sure you can. Ross...”

  “No, I don’t know how to look after strays like you do. He’ll be happy with you.” He lifts a callused hand to my face, his touch gentle.

  But something’s wrong. His gaze that had cleared over the past days and weeks, grown brighter, lost that empty look—is clouding over again, darkening. Something’s bothering him, frightening him, and he’s trying to cover it up.

  Ross. I open my mouth to ask what it is, what is the problem.

  But he’s turning and climbing into the bus already, vanishing before I can find the words to express what’s niggling at me, leaving me alone with my fears.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ross

  Time after time, I wake up drenched in cold sweat, screams dying in my throat, my hands twitching at my sides. Who the hell said that talking about the past helps? It’s as if I’ve stirred the pot of dreams and all the bad stuff has bubbled to the surface.

  So that’s how I find myself curled up on the rocking chair on the porch, images of Luna, Dad, the prison—and... Buddy?—still playing in front of my eyes. There’s danger from every direction, but I can’t see it, I can only feel it... for all the good it does me.

  It’s been happening more and more these days, especially when Luna isn’t around to wake me up, or just be there, keeping the nightmares at bay. How pathetic is that? That her presence guards my sleep. And though it works when she’s here, when she’s away she slips into my dreams and I’ve no way of protecting her from... myself. From the frightened stupid kid that runs my nightmares.

  I wipe a hand down my face, groaning.

  Then my phone starts ringing, and when I reply, a bored drone at work tells me that my shift was canceled and not to bother heading over today.

  Good. Because I need to see Luna. Suddenly, I don’t give a fuck if her dad and brother are there and if they don’t like me. Just one glimpse of her, to see she’s alright, that’s all I want, and check on Buddy, too.

  Forcing stiff muscles to move, I get up and go wash my face in the stream. Then I return to the house and go hunting after clean clothes. I need to beg Stacy to let me do my laundry at her place again. If Conrad finds out, I’m toast. I should do something for Stacy, for helping me out, letting me shop in her damn shop. What do women like... flowers?

  Nah, Conrad would finally find an excuse to kill me and hide my body in the woods.

  I glance at the trees and the river and suppress a shiver. I pat my pocket for the pendant, and frown before I remember I’ve lost it. I’m gonna have to look around the construction site, see if I dropped it there. And I need to talk to Merc again, see when they’re planning on coming down here. My feelings about that are mixed.

  I dread seeing them.

  And at the same time, I look forward to it, and I don’t know why. They don’t much like me. Merc makes the effort, but I pushed Octavia away, and Gigi always looks like she wants to spit on me. As for Matt Hansen, he hates my guts.

  It’s gonna be a hell of a family reunion.

  Grimacing to myself, I get ready, grab my wallet and keys and stomp out of the house, taking the path to Luna. I’m still not sure what the fuck I’ll do once I get there. Ring the doorbell? Stand outside and yell for her? Throw rocks at her window?

  This is dumb, but I can’t make myself turn around. Soon, her house looms through the trees and I’m there, still without a plan.

  No-one is around, the yard quiet and tidy, the small patch of lawn is neatly mown and the hedges trimmed—but I think I hear the sound of barking from inside.

  Buddy.

  I prepare to ring the doorbell, bang my fist on the door if needed, and explain myself later, but the barking throws me back into the nightmare where I was running... from Dad, I think, who was swinging that ax and mowing down people, and I was holding Buddy in my arms and Luna by the hand...

  The house door opens and a glaring face is thrust into mine. “What do you want?”

  Green eyes, dark curls, an angry sneer. I shake the cobwebs of the dream off me. “You’re Josh. Luna’s brother.”

  “It’s Joshua,” he snarls. Oh, the boy’s pissed at me. Big time. “Fuck off and don’t ever come back.”

  I put my foot in the door before he slams it in my face. “I want to see Luna.”

  “Too bad.” He tries to close the door again, but I put my hand on it, keep it open. “You’re not seeing my sister, no way.”

  “I just wanna talk to her.”

  “I don’t care what you want!” His face has gone red. “You bullied her, you sent her away. I missed her. Did you ever stop to think what you were doing?”

  It’s more the hurt in his eyes, so young and vulnerable, filled with righteous anger, that gets to me, punches through me like a fist. “You’re right, I didn’t. I’m sorry, man.”

  He shakes his head, obviously not accepting my apology. “She has to stay away from you,” he whispers. “You’re infecting her, changing her. She’s sad, and quiet, and doesn’t want to stay around anymore. She was always so... stuck on you. Since school. And now it’s worse.”

  My heartbeat lurches. Is that true?

  But then he says, so quietly I barely hear it, his gaze sliding away, “She’s leaving, you know.”

  His words are another punch to my solar plexus that leaves me winded. “What? Leaving? What do you mean?”

  “She won’t talk about it to me, but I overhead her talking to Dad. She wants to go away to college. She hates this town. And that’s your fault, too.”

  My fault. She never said... She didn’t say...

 
; Fuck.

  Buddy comes to the door, behind Josh, and barks at me, but I ignore him. Of course she wants to leave. I dunno why I thought... I assumed... Just because she’s kind. Well, the sex was hot, and...

  And I can’t think beyond that. What would she want with a loser like me? Nothing has changed.

  Turning blindly, I walk away. There are things to be done. Find out who Dad’s second victim was, find out if her son is still alive, press Dad until he tells me. Track the boy down, contact him. Make sure he’s all right.

  And after that... hell knows what I’ll do. I’ll be back at the beginning, in that dark pit with the snakes, hanging over their snapping mouths.

  Things can’t get worse than this, I think, not if I lose Luna, and I should have known, dammit, I should have known better than to tempt fate...

  ***

  I’ve already smoked half a pack of cigarettes by the time it’s visiting hours at the prison. Since I’m immediate family, there’s no problem when I ask to see Dad. Nobody seems to remember he’s in here because he did his best to kill me, and I don’t remind them.

  Checking the time, I decide it’s time to go in. I throw my cigarette down, step on it, and wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs before I enter.

  Yeah, I shouldn’t be here. Yeah, I shouldn’t be smoking. And yeah, it’s doubtful Dad will be any damn help, but I have to try.

  My hands are shaking. I shove them deep into my jean pockets. My mind keeps trying to go back to everything Joshua said, and it’s a fucking never-ending rollercoaster of tension and goddamn despair.

  Luna is leaving.

  I didn’t manage to prove myself to her. I’m not good enough. Never was, for anyone. Not for Dad, nor for her. Buddy made the right choice, choosing her to stay with. Even animals can sense when it’s time to cut their losses.

  “Sir? Sir, have you filled out the visitor application?”

  “Yes.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

  “Your name and driver’s license, please. And leave everything, wallet, keys, or anything else on your person in this tray. It will be returned to you later.”