Dream Maker

by Kristen Ashley

  Evan shook her head that she wasn’t with him.

  “Danny, I can’t move in. We barely know each other.”

  “And I’m barely home.”

  Her brows ticked toward each other.

  “So what do I care you’re here?” he went on.

  “Say I consider this, and I’m not really considering this,” she stated quickly. “But say I do, I still wouldn’t because I couldn’t live somewhere and not pay rent.”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “Danny—”

  “Six months rent-free,” he said.

  “I’m not haggling over living arrangements I’m not agreeing to,” she returned.

  Right then.

  Shit.

  He had to say it.

  “Then I gotta tell you, Evan, that I can’t let you live anywhere else because I just don’t have that in me seein’ as you’re in more danger than your brother ’cause he’s got cops guarding him and you got nothin’. But me.”

  More big eyes and these he didn’t like.

  “I’m in more danger than my brother?” she asked.

  “That bag is gone, baby,” he said carefully.

  “But, when he gets back in touch with me, I can just tell Mr. Shade of the Long Car someone took it.”

  “And how do you think that’ll go?”

  He saw it dawn on her how that’d go and then watched it land on her, her hand reaching out to grab his counter in order that she could physically take the weight.

  “Whatever your brother is into, we need to get to the bottom of it and sort it out,” he said to the side of her head, considering she was staring down at her hand on his counter. “And by ‘we,’ I mean me.”

  She looked up at him and her voice was soft and shaky when she replied, “I can’t move in with you and I also can’t ask you to wade into this garbage.”

  “And here I’ll note that you didn’t ask.”

  She pushed away from the counter. “Danny—”

  He cut her off.

  “Evie, tell me, is it gonna be booze, food or tears? I haven’t had dinner, so I’d pick number two with a little of one. But I didn’t get my apartment tossed today so it’s lady’s choice.”

  She studied him and she did it so long, he was about to say something.

  But she beat him to it.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?” he asked back.

  “Why would you offer to help me, give me a place to stay, get involved in this mess?”

  “There are a lot of reasons why,” he evaded.

  “Tell me two,” she bossed.

  That cut through his anger, because from the start, he liked her version of attitude.

  Though he didn’t have an easy answer because a lot of it had to do with wanting to get into her pants. That said, he also wanted to get to know her better, either before or after getting into her pants.

  But more of it had to do with the fact he was just not that guy who could handle knowing someone was in trouble, he could help, and then not help.

  Especially a woman.

  He went with, “Because I like you.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  But now, he was confused.

  “Why do I like you?”

  “It was just last night, Danny, so I remember being a raving bitch to you.”

  “Evie—”

  “And I shouldn’t say this, because I should keep you safe…”

  Keep him safe?

  Before he could cut in, she kept going.

  “But I didn’t mean it. I had to latch on to the only semi-negative thing I knew about you, so I did. I mean,” she tossed out a hand, “it’s not fair to label you something I’d lose my mind if you labeled a woman the same way.”

  And again, before he could utter a word, she got in there.

  This time to mutter, “Though, it’s uncool a man’s thought of as a man if he sleeps around and a woman is considered easy.”

  He went careful but he didn’t stop himself from reaching to her, using a finger to hook her belt loop at the side of her black jeans, and tugging her a little closer.

  He considered it progress in a variety of ways when she let him.

  “The only semi-negative thing about me?” he teased, not about to show how relieved he was that she didn’t mean the shit she’d hurled at him last night.

  She’d just been overemotional.

  And trying to “keep him safe.”

  He still didn’t get that.

  But he’d get into it later.

  “Danny, I can’t stay with you,” she said quietly. “Even more now.”

  “Why even more now?” he asked.

  “If you like me.”

  Oh shit.

  He felt his spine stiffen and his lips were the same when he asked, “You don’t like me?”

  “I mean, you know…because…,” she lifted both hands between them and flipped them out before not answering his question, which, thank fuck, answered his question in the way he wanted it answered, “it’d be awkward.”

  “I’ll be a gentleman,” he muttered, watching her bite her lip.

  Then he watched those lips whisper, “Danny.”

  No one called him Danny but his mother, his sister and Mo’s sisters.

  He’d been that in high school.

  He’d earned the name Mag in the Marines.

  Danny had died somewhere in between.

  Every time Evie said it, it felt like a resurrection.

  Like he could be that kid again who didn’t live knowing what absolute, unqualified shit some people out in the world lived.

  Especially women.

  But in this instance, with his finger in her belt loop, her close, he felt her calling him that name in his throat and chest and regions south.

  He had to focus, so he lifted his gaze to hers.

  “You’re not comfortable staying here, then I’ll take you wherever you wanna go, but a caveat to that, baby, is that, if where you wanna go I don’t deem safe, we’re coming back here,” he offered.

  But she stood there and said nothing.

  “So, I’m guessing from what little you said, your dad is out,” he prompted.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t meet his eyes and she was stammering again.

  “I…maybe I…well, what I mean is, maybe I can stay tonight, in Mo’s old bed,” she said the last four words very fast. “And tomorrow, I can figure out what I’m gonna do.”

  She didn’t have anywhere else to go.

  She didn’t have anyone to look after her.

  He remembered then all she’d said about her family.

  “Are you keeping them safe from this shit?” he asked, in case he’d assumed wrong.

  “My stepdad, Rob, has guns, but if he knew this degenerated the way it has, he’d take them to the county jail in order to try to shoot Mick and at this current moment, I can’t deal with two family members in the pokey. One was already too many.”

  At least her stepdad didn’t sound like a jackass.

  Though she’d said the man was a cheater, so strike that.

  It was then he noticed what she was wearing.

  “What’s Computer Raiders?” he asked.

  “My second job,” she muttered.

  What?

  “You got a second job?”

  “Tuition doesn’t pay itself.”

  He stood solid as it hit him, she did not have anyone looking after her.

  Mac had told him she was twenty-seven, so not the usual age of a kid out of high school hitting a university with her parents’ help.

  But she also didn’t demand he take her to her mom’s and her dad sounded like a dick.

  So, she didn’t have her parents’ help.

  She didn’t notice his reaction.

  She spoke. “Okay, so, um, we have a plan. I’ll sleep on it tonight, here, thank you for offering. And I’ll come up with a plan to tackle this situation tomorrow.”

  He’d take that bec
ause he knew she’d sleep on it here for the foreseeable future.

  But if he had to see to her doing that one day at a time, then he would.

  “Yeah, we have a plan,” he agreed.

  “Is there a drugstore close? I should get a toothbrush.”

  He tugged her belt loop and brought her a little nearer.

  But he didn’t push it, stopped and said, “You hang with your new pal, Fireball, and I’ll go out and get you one. You had dinner?”

  She nodded. “But I can go with you. And we’ll get you something to eat.”

  He’d boil some pasta.

  “I’m covered.”

  “Danny—”

  “Babe, I got food here. I’m good. You want a toothbrush, I’ll get you a toothbrush. Then we can hunker down and regroup to tackle tomorrow.”

  She nodded then looked him up and down, turned her head to take in the room, came back to him and stared at his chest a beat before she lifted her eyes to his face.

  “Why were you there?” she asked

  “Where?”

  “At my place after I…after what I said last night?”

  It was moot now, why he was there.

  “I think I mentioned I like you.”

  “Danny,” she whispered.

  He decided to let her in on his plan.

  Kind of.

  “We’ll get you through tonight. Then we’ll get you through tomorrow. And onward. One day at a time, Evie. Now call Smithie and let him know you’re not gonna make it tonight.”

  “He’s gonna freak,” she muttered. “He doesn’t like his girls in jams.”

  Mag knew the feeling.

  “He’ll be more pissed you kept it from him. Call,” he urged.

  She nodded, then, when she bent her head to open her little bag, he reluctantly let her belt loop go.

  She stepped away to make her call, so Mag pulled out his own phone and texted Mo.

  Word?

  “It’s okay, Smithie,” he heard her say as he turned to the pantry to find some pasta. “I’m with Danny.” Pause then, “He’s a friend of Mo’s.” Pause and then a soft, “Yeah.”

  That made Mag grin.

  And his night continued its upswing, which was the only way it could go, when he got Mo’s reply.

  Hawk’s making the calls.

  Hawk would get him in to see her brother.

  Then Mag would find out what the fuck was going on.

  He’d take care of it and make Evan safe.

  And then he could focus on other things concerning Evie.

  Like her second job.

  Her fucked-up family.

  And getting her back to school.

  Chapter Seven

  Do Over

  Mag

  To say Mag was antsy and getting more pissed by the second was an understatement.

  He, Mo and Hawk were standing in a room at the county jail, waiting to be shown to another room that had Evan’s brother in it.

  And they’d been standing there for over half an hour.

  Evie was home, with his buds Boone and Axl, the bottle of Fireball and zero knowledge this was what he was doing.

  When he’d received word that Hawk had arranged the meet, he’d called Boone to ask him to come keep an eye on Evie while he was at the jail.

  And, of course, Boone had brought Axl so they both could get a good look at her, assess her suitability for Mag, as well as take her back while Mag was away.

  Regardless of the fact that Boone and Axl were Hawk’s boys, both were built, and it was unmistakable they could handle themselves, it took Evan visible effort to allow him to walk out the door to see to some vague “business.”

  She was still freaked.

  It was natural.

  But it served to piss him off even more.

  He did not like leaving her.

  He did not like keeping his whereabouts from her.

  He needed to get this done, find out what was happening, form a plan, go home to her and share where he’d been and what was going on.

  And all that started with, at some point, clapping eyes on Evan’s brother.

  “As much as I appreciate you sorted this meet for me, Hawk, I got a woman at home who started this fucked-up shit with me at her side and didn’t like me leavin’ her tonight when it got ugly,” he growled at Hawk, who cut his eyes to Mag. “If this is not gonna happen, I gotta get back to her.”

  “Let Slim do his thing,” Hawk replied.

  Mag opened his mouth right when the door opened, and Brock “Slim” Lucas stood in it.

  Brock looked to Hawk, to Mag and back to Hawk before he proved he was adept at reading people when he said, “I better not regret this.”

  “He’s my man, Slim,” was all Hawk said as reply.

  Four words from Hawk served two purposes.

  The first, Brock nodded, jerked his head to the hall to indicate they should follow him and moved out of the door.

  And the second, Mag was reminded that his behavior reflected on Hawk, so he had to keep his shit tight.

  Mag glanced at Mo, whose eyes were locked to Mag, his expression blank, but as usual with Mo, his bud found alternate ways to communicate.

  And the stiff line of his humongous frame, the tension in his neck, veins popping there, shared how he felt about one of his woman’s friends being in a situation.

  Mo wouldn’t be anywhere else, not with someone Lottie cared about finding trouble, not with Mag in the mix, and Mag was glad he was there for those purposes.

  But more, even as tall and built as Mag was—six four and clearly someone you’d think twice about messing with, Hawk a couple inches shorter, but having that same look—Mo was gargantuan, and one look at him would put the fear of God into anyone with half a brain.

  The jury was out as to if Mick Gardiner had half a brain.

  They’d soon see.

  They walked down a hall, into a secure area and Brock led them into a small room with a table and four chairs. Three on one side. One on the other.

  Chained to that table was a man who Mag knew would be relatively tall when he stood, maybe six foot, a little over.

  He was also undeniably Evan’s brother.

  Her same straight, reddish-brown hair.

  Her brown eyes.

  Her slender frame.

  There were obvious differences outside gender.

  Evie’s hair was long, falling in thick sheets over her shoulders.

  She was also all kinds of pretty and this guy was not all that good-looking.

  And her brother had an olive cast to his skin, whereas Evie’s was flawless porcelain.

  Last, this guy was straight-up skinny, and although Evan was slender and had smallish tits, she had a generous ass.

  Before he’d seen her that had not been Mag’s thing. He was a legs man (something she totally had) and a close second on that was tits.

  He was not an ass man.

  Now, conjuring up the image of her in the face of her brother, he wondered what he’d been thinking all these years, because with Evie, he was all about her ass.

  Mick Gardiner got a load of what was entering that room where he was about to have a late evening chat, and after Mo strolled through, he hid his alarm behind douchebaggery.

  “What? Has the government picked me to be disappeared in order to force me to perform covert military operations?” Mick asked, presumably referring to the uniform Hawk did not require that they all had adopted of cargo pants, military boots and tee, or in Mo’s case, a compression shirt that left little to the imagination of how much he could bench press.

  “Uncle Sam wouldn’t take you,” Hawk replied as he moved behind the chairs and jerked his chin up at Mag, his way of saying, I’m already done with this guy, sit down and get on with it.

  Mick’s attention went to Mag.

  “I wouldn’t have picked you to be the leader,” he said to Mag. “Boss.” He indicated Hawk with his head. “Enforcer.” He indicated Mo. “Sidekick.” He tip
ped his head to Mag.

  “I’m dating your sister,” Mag shared, ignoring the slight and folding into a seat opposite the asshole.

  The man’s eyebrows rose but his body went stiff, probably so he wouldn’t shift in his seat and give something away.

  “I was with her last night when she had her meet with the guy in the Continental,” Mag told him. “And I was with her today when she got home to find her apartment trashed.”

  Mick turned white.

  But he did not have this reaction for the reason Mag would suspect—his sister’s apartment got trashed, and this indicated she might be in danger.

  No, it was because, straight from his mouth, “She was supposed to go meet Snag alone.”

  Mag stayed silent in order to take a very long, slow breath into his nose.

  Once he’d accomplished that, he said, “The trunk on her car was also jacked. That’ll need to be repaired. Though that’s probably covered under insurance. But her apartment was not.”

  Mick sat still and said nothing.

  Mag decided to move to something this dick might care about.

  “The Trader Joe’s bag was in her trunk,” Mag informed him.

  “Fuck, shit,” Mick muttered, looking away.

  Christ.

  As suspected, Evie’s brother was dirt.

  “Now, as you can guess, I give zero fucks about you,” Mag told him, regaining his attention, the man’s eyes forming into slits. “We’re here to find out how much trouble you landed your sister in.”

  “Snag needs that bag,” Mick said.

  “I can imagine. Your problem is, it’s gone. What needs to be communicated is that it’s your problem, not Evan’s,” Mag replied.

  He leaned forward. “You don’t understand. When the time comes, Snag needs that bag.”

  “I do understand,” Mag returned. “What Snag needs to understand is that if he wanted it, he should have taken it himself or chosen more wisely who he entrusted it to.”

  “He couldn’t—” Mick began but stopped and jumped when Mag pounded his fist on the table.

  Mag felt Mo get closer to his back.

  Hawk didn’t move.

  “You are missing,” Mag said low and slow, “how I do not give a fuck what your problems are. I’m here for Evan and only for Evan. She is out of this situation. It no longer concerns her. It never did. And the only person in this situation who knows the players is you. So, you either communicate that or you share with me who needs that message delivered and I’ll communicate it. This is what we’ll be talking about. What you need or this Snag asshole needs is of no interest to me. Now, how do we extricate your sister from your shit?”