The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play Book 2)

by B. B. Reid

  “I hope you didn’t make reservations.”

  He finally looked at me just as I managed an indifferent expression.

  “I did, but you can just threaten the maître d’.” The reproachful look he gave me made me smile which only deepened his scowl. “Hey, if you’re going to be a menace, you might as well enjoy the perks.”

  Shaking his head, he led me into the restaurant. Of course, I picked the nicest one available. I’d snatched quite a few wallets and pawned some valuable watches in anticipation of this night.

  We were fashionably late, but luckily, we were shown to our table without anyone having to shit their pants first. I slid into the booth, and as usual, Wren followed me, sitting close enough for our thighs to touch. It was no wonder we had a hard time convincing strangers that we were friends and nothing more. I’d need his hands and mine to count how many times we were told what a lovely couple we made.

  “My name is Derek, and I’ll be serving you tonight.” The waiter recited the specials and raved about their best wine—even though neither of us was old enough to drink—before asking what we wanted.

  Like always, I ordered for us both while Wren checked his messages. “Two Pepsis and mozzarella sticks for the table please.”

  “Is Coke okay?”

  My smile immediately fell. “If I wanted watered-down Pepsi, it would be,” I grumbled.

  Wren looked up from his phone with a smug expression. “You’re just mad because no one ever asks how Pepsi is doing.”

  “I know a guy who was a Coke salesman,” I bullshitted. “He quit his job because it lost its fizz.”

  “Pepsi is kind of like a hand job,” Wren mused. “Never my first choice, but I’ll take it anyway.”

  In perfect sync, we regarded the waiter with blank expressions, and after stuttering in confusion, he hurried away to fill our order.

  “And a glass of water!” Wren shouted after him.

  I made a mental note to double the poor guy’s tip. Grinning at each other, we both ignored the dirty looks we received and perused the menu.

  Wren was a creature of habit. He’d order his usual medium rare steak with fries while I attempted to wow myself with a spontaneous choice.

  Just as I predicted, he took a quick scan of his menu before setting it aside. The waiter returned with our drinks, and Wren immediately took a sip of his to test for flatness. I didn’t like the ache I got in my belly from watching him do such a simple act, so I quickly grappled for a diversion.

  “Do you think if I eat enough oysters, I’ll eventually shit pearls?”

  My question had the desired effect when he choked on what might as well have been diet cola. The moment he regained his composure, he looked at me with crazy eyes.

  “Well…do you?” I prodded. The longer he stared at me, the harder it got to keep a straight face, but somehow, I managed.

  Never taking his gaze away, he snatched up one of the carefully folded napkins and dried his mouth. A giggle escaped me, and in the blink of an eye, Wren went from looking angry to pleased. And almost a little excited.

  Amusement gave way to confusion, and then he was whispering in my ear, “I almost forgot about the spanking I promised. Thanks for reminding me.”

  After I’d shed my clothes for all to see on Coney Island Beach and Wren pulled me from the water, he told me ever so bitingly that I needed to spend some time over his knee. My heart began beating faster as my mind raced, but I forced myself to appear unbothered even as my deepest fantasy manifested.

  “I recall it sounding more like a threat.”

  “Then consider it a promise now.”

  “And I told you,” I said, my voice like sharp steel, “you’re not my father.” That wasn’t exactly true, though. Wren was my father, brother, and best friend rolled into one, and I still wanted more.

  Thankfully, our waiter returned with our appetizer before Wren could deliver the retort I saw burning in his gaze.

  “Are we ready to order?” the waiter haltingly queried. I guessed he’d noticed the tension or maybe we weren’t as funny earlier as we’d thought.

  Wren ordered his steak, and I thought it best for everyone that I didn’t get the oysters, so I ordered the lobster. As the waiter took down our orders, my mind turned over the implications of our conversation. I didn’t expect him to follow through with his threat, but what did it mean that he’d made it in the first place?

  I was holding my breath in anticipation of being alone and picking up where we’d left off, but when the waiter finally left, Wren simply said, “We should eat these before they get cold.”

  I stared at the platter of untouched mozzarella sticks while Wren unwrapped his flowers and casually dunked them in the glass of water.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d chosen to pretend nothing had happened. He’d give just a little only to take it all back.

  It could have been that he was playing a private game for his own amusement, but I knew he wasn’t capable of being that cruel. At least, not to me. That left only one possibility, and according to Wren, it was forbidden. I crumpled my napkin in my fist. If Wren were harboring secret thoughts and pretending otherwise, then it was time he tasted his own medicine.

  We didn’t speak as we devoured our appetizer. My appetite was gone, but I was just happy for the distraction. Wren answered a few calls, and I didn’t bother ear hustling because he always kept it short and cryptic.

  By the time he finally pocketed his phone, only one mozzarella stick remained, and we both reached for it at the same time. Wren was quicker and bit into the appetizer triumphantly. To my surprise, he even taunted me by wiggling the fried mozzarella between his teeth, and just like that, the tension was broken. If only he knew it was the opening I needed to exact revenge. Clearly, we’d both underestimated how daring I could be because, when I leaned over and bit the protruding half, his eyes widened in shock as my own heart skipped a beat. The joke ended up being on me, however, when our lips brushed. My stomach fluttered as I quickly sat back and clapped my hands over my mouth afraid of how he’d react.

  To my dismay, he gave no reaction at all.

  His expression turned blank, but he didn’t turn away. A lifetime seemed to pass before he excused himself to the bathroom. I watched him go before spitting the suddenly tasteless mozzarella stick into the cloth napkin. Sometimes I believed I was a fool to feel what I did, and other times, I knew in my heart I wasn’t wrong. Like when I glimpsed the sizable bulge in his pants when he got up from the table.

  I allowed myself a moment of doubt, believing his body reacting to mine was pure biology, but then I decided to open my eyes and bet on my gut. The same desires building within me were also stirring in Wren, but only one of us was running scared. It was hard to feel remorse when he had only himself to blame. He should have never pursued me even if it was platonically.

  The waiter returned with our food, and I snuck a couple of Wren’s fries. I was still nibbling when he came back ten minutes later, but this time, he sat across from me.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, forcing the hurt from my tone.

  “I just realized I haven’t eaten all day,” he said with a sigh.

  “Do I have to start packing your lunch every day?” I teased. My smile slowly fell when he didn’t laugh and avoided my gaze altogether. The rest of dinner passed in tense silence until the waiter came and cleared our plates. Reaching inside my messenger bag, I stared at the gift Eliza helped me wrap, wondering if I was about to make another colossal mistake.

  “What’s that?” Wren asked, taking away the choice I’d been leaning toward—shoving it in my bag and never letting it see the light of day.

  My hands shook as I slid it across the table and mumbled, “Your birthday present.”

  He looked up in surprise, and I sucked in a breath. I’d never gotten him a gift before.

  “Breathe, Lou.”

  I shook my head and continued holding my breath.

  “Fuck!” S
ensing what I needed, he hurriedly ripped the wrapping paper away, and I let out all the air in one whoosh when he stared down at the framed photo. I watched his Adam’s apple bob and his breathing turn shallow before he finally spoke. “Fuck.”

  This one was different than before. As if I’d knocked him on his ass.

  “Why?” he choked out.

  I shrugged. “You shared your passion with me, so I thought it was time I shared mine with you.”

  Wren always asked to see the pictures I took with the camera he bought me, but having no confidence in them, I always denied him. This was my first time showing him one of my ‘butterflies.’ Six months after we’d met and we’d both fallen into the routine of being friends—strictly platonic friends—I’d taken my Polaroid camera and used my very last shot to capture a picture of him. I’d been saving that final exposure for something special. It turns out I cherished the shot of Wren sleeping more than I did the last gift my parents had ever given me. He had no idea just how young and vulnerable he looked while he slept. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t want to know. The stubborn ass would never sleep again.

  “Do you like it?” I asked nervously.

  He swallowed before carefully setting the frame down on the table. “Yes,” he eventually replied.

  But it was too late. I didn’t believe him.

  “Jesus, you’re an asshole even when you’re trying to be nice. If you don’t like it, give it back!” I reached for it, but he snatched it up with a glare.

  Our waiter returned with the check, and we both reached for it, but since he was still holding my gift hostage, I beat him to it and shoved more than enough cash inside the leather envelope.

  “It’s your birthday,” I explained, feeling smug over my small victory. “I should pay.”

  “You shouldn’t be wasting your money on me. The next time you run, I don’t want you snatching more wallets to feed yourself.”

  I regarded him with a tilt of my head. “I’m pretty sure your money is dirtier than mine, Harlan.”

  He stared at me over his glass as he took one last sip of his drink. The look in his eyes when he set his glass down had me gushing in my panties, but with one sweep of his lashes, it was gone.

  “Let’s go.”

  I sighed and let him pull me from the booth.

  Paula rolled to a stop outside my foster home, but Wren didn’t shut off the engine. I knew he wasn’t planning to stick around, and hiding my disappointment wasn’t as easy as I had hoped.

  “Thanks for dinner,” he said after a long silence.

  I tore my gaze away from the Hendersons’ front door and found him watching me.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. More silence followed until it was broken by his ringing cell phone. I watched him pull it out and curse when he saw who was calling. Unfortunately for my stomach, I also glimpsed the name on his phone’s screen.

  With every fiber of my being, I hated the man who offered Wren only darkness. Nathaniel Fox was a man whose acquaintance I’d never met, but I knew despite Wren’s vehement disapproval, one day I would. I’d make sure of it if only to give that man a piece of my mind. Wren had only been a boy when he came into Fox’s service, and Fox probably hadn’t thought twice about using Wren to pursue his evil desires while he remained safely in the shadows.

  “I have to go,” Wren announced. He was suddenly tense and agitated, and as much as I hated the thought of him going off to do bad things for a man who didn’t deserve him, I couldn’t bring myself to add to his stress. Not when I knew it would distract him and possibly get him killed.

  Placing my hand over his larger one, I felt his warmth and began counting the seconds until I’d feel it again. “I know.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was more shocked or relieved at my acquiescence, but at that moment, I wanted to make it clear that I accepted who he was, not what he did. In Wren’s case, the two weren’t mutually exclusive. Before I could think better of it, I heard myself asking, “Do you know the age of consent in New York?”

  His eyes slowly closed, and he looked in pain as he struggled to swallow. “Seventeen,” he answered hoarsely.

  When my hand slid to his thigh and squeezed, his eyes flew open, and I smiled seeing that they were blue. I no longer had to wonder if these desires I felt were one-sided. “Come back to me, Wren.”

  NOT FEELING LIKE SCALING THE side of the pale blue home, I dug in my pocket and pulled out a key that none of the residents knew I had. I never used it while they were home, but I couldn’t be bothered with the cloak and dagger bullshit. It had already failed me once tonight.

  I flexed my fist and had the urge to turn back and mete out proper punishment. But even as my need for vengeance filled me, so did reason. Because I knew when my fist connected with Danny Boy’s pretty face, instinct not cowardice had propelled him to drag me out that door to leave our brothers behind. Still, guilt plagued me. I hadn’t actually seen Siko and Eddie die.

  I stood frozen under the porch light, trying to convince myself not to go back. It’d been a couple of hours since the heist in Long Island. The bodies would have already been disposed of, and if Thirteen were even half as thorough as my crew, Siko and Eddie’s corpses would never be found.

  Shoving in my key, I let myself inside the quiet home bathed in darkness. By now, I’d learned which floorboards creaked and carefully avoided them as I made my way up the stairs. The house was larger than it looked on the outside, and every inch of surface and wall space was filled with knickknacks and family photos —a true home. When I reached the second floor, I stared at the large cross hanging on the wall at the end of the hall. I felt His stare and heard His question, but having no excuse or explanation for my actions, I offered him only a one-shoulder shrug before pushing inside the small bedroom.

  I expected her to be asleep given the time, but there she was, curled on her side, wide awake and staring at the floor. I considered backing out and leaving. She’d sense my anger, and I didn’t have the patience to answer her questions. Before I could escape, however, her soft voice filled the dark space of her bedroom.

  “I thought it was going to be a few weeks before I saw you again.” Her eyes never strayed from the frayed carpeting. It had only been three days since my birthday, but the time had seemed to stretch for me, too.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  She was sitting up and across the room faster than I thought her capable. She moved around me, and I listened as she slowly shut the door, and then I felt her hands on my shoulders, tugging my shirt up and over my head.

  “You’re where you’re supposed to be,” she whispered as she tossed my shirt at our feet. She then took my hand, and I let her pull me to her bed where she pushed me down with a warm hand on my chest. I watched her as she pretended that touching my bare skin didn’t affect her as she knelt and began tugging the laces of my boots.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of you,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Like you’re always taking care of me.”

  “I don’t recall ever undressing you.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” she mumbled. Her hand paused from tugging the knot of my laces free at the same time I froze.

  Leaning down, I pressed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. As always, she was an open book, letting me read every page. The desire I saw there almost made me look away, but I was a glutton for punishment. I was also selfish, wanting to drink up the need shining in her bright blue eyes to the very last drop.

  “What was that?” I’d heard her clearly even though she hadn’t meant me to. She didn’t know that I was aware of everything she did and said—more than I should be. She breathed in deep, and I did the same. While I wanted to hear her say the words, a part of me hoped she never would because I could never deny her.

  “Say it, Lou. Don’t be a coward.” I knew my taunting hit its mark when her gaze turned defiant.

  “I said to lift your foot.”

  My smile
was victorious, hiding my relief as I lifted my foot. Lou was unnaturally stubborn, which ironically made her easy to manipulate. A paradox, indeed.

  She yanked my boot from my foot and let it fall to the floor with a thud. She repeated the action with my other boot before closing her eyes and taking another deep breath to compose herself. Her eyes remained closed when I reached down and lifted her into my lap, but she didn’t fight me. With a sigh, she cradled her head on my bare shoulder. When her lips brushed the skin of my neck, I just barely stifled a curse. I didn’t just feel her touch there but in my fingers and toes and even my goddamn kneecaps. Neither of us spoke for some time, but Lou had never been good at keeping her thoughts inside—at least with me—so, of course, she was the first to break the silence.

  “What happened?”

  “What makes you think something happened?”

  “Because your eyes are blue today.”

  “Blue?”

  “Most of the time, you’re a robot, but I always know when your soul is open.” She lifted her head and stared back at me. “Your eyes become an ocean, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll drown.”

  I found it hard to swallow as my grip on her tightened. “It’s just your own emotions reflecting back at you.”

  Her gaze turned hard. “I’d believe that if I wasn’t beginning to know better.”

  I cursed and almost shoved her off my lap. We were heading into forbidden territory, and I was starting to feel cornered. Carefully laying her on her back, I ordered her to get some sleep.

  “I can’t sleep until I know what’s wrong.”

  “You mean you won’t,” I corrected from my place on the floor. She already had it set up for me, knowing all along that I’d come.

  “Whatever gets you talking faster.”

  I was staring at the ceiling, replaying each moment from the time we stepped into that house tonight when I heard myself say, “I lost two men today.”

  I heard her shuffling around and her bedding rustling until out of the corner of my eye, I saw first one dainty foot and then two touching the carpet. She was lying next to me a second later, cradling against my side before I could tell her to get back in bed. My hands itched to pull her closer. I wanted to hold her, and I knew she wanted it, too.