by Jo Raven
“Who knows how long it will take for them to get back to us? Ev says it may take weeks.”
“And what does driving around in an unknown town helps us if—”
“Stop,” Zane hisses, and we all freeze. He grimaces as if in pain and scrubs a hand over his face. “Just stop.”
In the new, strained silence, the only noise is the engine of the Mustang.
“We came here on the off chance Zane might remember something,” Tyler finally says, steel in his voice, challenging us. “It was a gamble from the start. So calm your tits and let us think.”
“I’m just gonna drive around,” Rafe announces, “give Zane time. See if the place jogs his memory. That okay with you, Z-man?”
“Whatever the fuck,” Zane grinds out, and that’s as much of a reply as we’ll get at this point, I guess. Rafe seems to sense that, too, so he puts his head down and keeps driving.
***
An hour later, we’re still driving. Zane hasn’t said another word, and Rafe’s face in the mirror is troubled. He’s driven us on either side of the river, down by the airport where the water expands like a lake, and back up, then through streets and more streets until I’m sure we’re going in fucking circles.
I blink sleepily at the houses streaking by. Good thing it’s summer, and I don’t have any classes, and thank God the Damage Boyz took over the shop today, manning the front desk in shifts while doing their job and inking customers.
My cell dings, and I pull it out of my back pocket to find a text from Audrey, asking me if we found anything.
I reply with a short “no” and scowl at my phone screen.
“Give it time,” she writes back. “Let’s see what the agency gives us. That’s our best bet.”
She’s right, but I’m frustrated with the delay while my friend is suffering. I’m just as bad as Dylan, thinking we’d solve this from day one, and that information would be easy to come by.
I lower my phone, about to put it away, but find myself typing, “Are our babies okay?”
She sends me back two hearts and a smile, and I grin like a fool, staring at them.
Tyler chuckles. “Oh man, you’re pussy-whipped all over again, bro.”
“You’re one to talk,” I say without heat, still grinning. “Besides, you already have two chicks in your life.”
“So you want a princess of your own, huh?” He whips out his phone and scrolls through pics of Isabella—then of Jax, and Erin, not even trying to hide how proud he is.
“I really wouldn’t mind,” I admit, though I love my boy to bits. “A girl would be nice. Or another boy. Fuck, either is fine.”
“Hey, Dyl. Your turn?” Tyler thumps the back of Dylan’s seat. “Time to get some tykes of your own?”
“I’ve got my brothers, man. Same thing.”
“Nah, not the same. You don’t know what it’s like being a parent until you’ve drunk beer with baby pee in it.”
Rafe snickers. “Or until all your shirts have drool and milk stains that won’t go away from getting the baby to burp after eating day after day.”
“Or,” I say, “until you’ve paced your room with a wailing baby in your arms at three in the morning trying to memorize the information for your college exam coming up in five hours.”
“Did you pass?” Tyler asks.
“I did. Then I went back home and passed out for two hours.” I shake my head, snorting, and turn automatically to Zane, waiting for him to add his story, or tell us we’re idiots.
Instead, I find him with a hand splayed on the window and the other gripping the back of the driver’s seat.
“Has he seen something?” I ask. “Z-man?”
Tyler taps on Rafe’s shoulder, and the car slows down. “What is it?”
“Zane.” I reach over Tyler to grip his arm. “Talk to us.”
“Here. I think it’s fucking here. That tree.”
The car slows to a crawl. I shiver. We’re driving through a quiet neighborhood close to the river. The tree in question is a massive oak, like the one I used to climb with Audrey when we were kids, with a wooden bench built around its gnarled trunk.
“I thought you said the tree was a maple?” I ask, trying to see.
“Is this the house?” Dylan seems one second away from climbing over Rafe’s lap to get a better look. “The green one with the nice porch?”
But Zane is staring past that, transfixed, to a red brick house with white curtains fluttering at the windows.
“That one,” Tyler says quietly, pointing, and the car rolls on, past the oak tree. “Stop here.”
Despite the curtains at the windows, the house looks untended. Maybe abandoned. Weeds are crowding the porch and sprout all around. The fence is peeling, though the house itself isn’t faring that bad. It’s as if it was painted relatively recently.
We throw the car doors open and spill out. It’s past midday, and the sunlight is golden, blinding. Shading my eyes with my hand, I stretch my legs as I walk toward the gate. It’s low, easy to jump over, and in fact Dylan is already doing just that and walking down the path to the house.
Zane is standing by the car, staring.
“You sure this is the house?” I ask him.
He swallows hard. “I think.”
“You think.”
He leans back against the car and thumps the heel of his biker boot back into the metal door. “Dammit, fucker, yeah, I think. What do you want me to say? It’s all a fucking blur in my mind.”
“Sorry.” I shove a hand through my hair and hang back with him while the others walk around the house, talking in tones I can’t make out from here. “You know me. I don’t connect my mouth to my fucking brain.”
He says nothing, folding his inked arms over his chest, staring at the house, but I think I see one side of his mouth tipping up in a half smile. “I know.”
Relaxing marginally, I lean back on the car beside him. “Yeah. I own it, see?”
He dips his head. “Congrats on the new baby, fucker.”
Pleased, I grin like the goofy dad I’ve apparently turned out to be. “You heard? Thanks, man.”
“Listen… I’m sorry, too.”
I turn a sharp look on him. “What? Whatever for?”
“Ruining your happiness with this fucking shit.”
“Yeah, don’t do it again. Because it was on purpose and all.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Wait, you fucking serious right now? I owe you everything, man. Everything. And you’re sorry for—what, needing our help for once?”
He lifts one hand to give me the finger, and I do the same for him.
He shoots me a crooked smile, but it slips as he goes back to watching the house.
“You know that was a perfect opportunity for a good bonding moment,” I mutter. “We could have hugged and shit.”
“Your brother is rubbing off on you,” Zane growls. “Bad influence. I should never have given him a chance.”
“But you did. To all of us. And we’re grateful. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Color rises to his cheeks, and he scowls, but says nothing more.
At least I know he heard me, even if he believes he hasn’t done anything so special for us, or the Damage Boyz. Motherfucker saved us all, and now we’re gonna save his ass whether he wants it or not.
From whatever monsters are after him, made up or real.
“Come on.” I smack his arm as I straighten. “Let’s go have a look at this red-brick house of yours.”
“It ain’t mine,” he hisses, but follows me anyway, because that’s who he is: running at his nightmares head-on without a weapon, keeping his fears behind his teeth, keeping his head up.
And I’ll be damned before I see him broken.
Chapter Eleven
Audrey
“So it was the right house?” I’m brushing my hair while Ash is feeding Scott his baby food, way too silent—though Scott more than makes up for it with his constant babbling. “Ash?”
; Scott manages to grab the plastic spoon that’s loaded with freshly made potato-and-meat mash and throw it against the wall, leaving a yellow splatter.
“Jesus F—” Ash rubs his face on his relatively clean forearm and sighs. “Jesus Fudge? Is this what my swearing is gonna be reduced to?”
I snicker, and his mouth twitches. “Jesus Fudge sounds cute.”
“Swearing isn’t supposed to sound cute, Auds.”
But he looks so cute, and hot, while feeding our son, with yellow stains on his white T-shirt and his muscular arms.
Woo. Is it pregnancy hormones, or is my husband just the hottest guy in the world?
“As for the house…” Ash gathers the plastic spoon from the floor and gets up to wash it at the sink while Scott makes bubbles with the mashed food left in his mouth and saliva. Oh God. “We’re not sure about the house.”
“You’re not? What did Zane say?”
“Not much.” He returns with the clean spoon and takes again his seat in front of Scott’s high chair. “I mean, he was the one who pointed out the fu— uh, the frigging house.” He gives me a desperate look. “Auds, our kid will learn some very bad words. I can’t filter my damn mouth.”
“You’re doing fine.” I smile at him and reach over to touch his cheek. “I promise.” But he still looks uncertain, so I lean over and kiss him. “Now, tell me what happened at this house.”
A slow flush is spreading on his sharp cheekbones, and he shifts uneasily in his chair. I snicker when I glance down and see the bulge at his crotch, though my own breath catches. God, I can’t wait for tonight, to drag him to our bed and do wicked things to him… or have him do them to me.
“Mamama,” Scott babbles, and I cut that line of thought, to be revisited later.
Ash winks at me as if reading my thoughts, and feeds Scott another spoonful. “The house was locked up, and seemed to be empty. We found a neighbor who told us the last tenants left six months ago. The house belongs to an Adam Corby, and his last tenant was a family member. He didn’t recognize the name Zane told us.”
I bend over to wipe the food dribbling from Scott’s mouth and nuzzle his silky hair. “And did Zane remember anything else?”
“He says he didn’t. But he looked… really fu—frigging awful, like he’d seen a ghost, and Tyler dragged him back to the car and had him sit inside while we tried to find more neighbors to ask.”
“But it wasn’t the right house?”
“Thing is… he recognized a tree. And then he seemed to recognize the house, but when I asked him, he said he wasn’t sure.”
“What if they renovated it since he left?”
“Yeah. Rafe said the same. Who knows? Ah shit.” Scott has managed to grab the spoon again and fling more food all over the place.
I want to laugh, but Ash seems to be at the end of his tether, and I can imagine he had a hard morning, seeing Zane like that.
“Hey, give me that.” I grab the bowl from his hand, and the spoon from Scott and attempt to feed him the rest. “You look beat. Why don’t you eat something, too?”
He leans back in his chair instead, gazing at me from under lowered lashes, mouth tipped to the side in a sexy smirk. “You know you’re a hot mamma, right?”
I’m tempted to fling baby food at him. I settle on sticking my tongue out. All very mature. “Thanks.”
“And you know I’m gonna jump your bones the moment this little man drops off to sleep?”
“Not if I jump yours first.”
His dark brows go up, and a wolf whistle leaves his lips. “Go for it.”
I will. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep before Scott does. It’s been happening more and more often lately, and now I know why.
“What about that parking lot where Zane saw the guy? When are we going to check it?”
“We’re already doing it, in shifts. Rafe is there now, and Dylan will drive by tomorrow, and so on. We got it covered.” I open my mouth to say I’d go, too, but he reaches out and puts a finger over my lips. “Don’t say you’ll go. I’ll be worried sick. If anything happened to you and the baby, I don’t know what I’d do.”
An even worse fear is that I’d fall asleep and see nothing, and I don’t like being handled like china, but he’s tired and panic lurks in his gray eyes, so I let it go.
If he says they’ve got it covered, then he knows what he’s talking about.
“Be careful,” I whisper. “Always. For me. For us.”
“I swear,” he says and holds my gaze. “I’ll be careful. Now…” His eyes twinkle. “Finish this so he can go to sleep, and I can drag you to our bed and have my way with you.”
Heat rises up in my chest, spreading to my neck and up to my face, tiny flames of desire. “Such as?”
“I’m gonna spread your legs and eat you up, make you come on my tongue, taste you…” He leans closer and whispers, his pale blue eyes flashing, “before I slide inside you and fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name.”
I shiver.
God, this boy. My need for him will forever be simmering under my skin, in my bones. In my mind. Two years together, two babies, and his words make me blush. And want. They make me want to feel him against me, in me, feel him everywhere.
I never thought it possible to love someone so frigging much.
***
My phone is ringing on the nightstand, and I hum into my pillow, reaching blindly for it. Although Scott is older and sleeps through the night, well mostly, it’s a rare treat to sleep an hour longer. Ash is always up at dawn, and without classes until fall semester starts, he takes care of Scott for me.
So sweet of him. Such a sweet boy.
Ash, I mean. Okay, Scott, too. But my boy, my guy, is Ash, and as I stare blearily at my phone, I remember what we did last night, and a familiar heat spreads in my cheeks and down my chest, all the way to my core.
He didn’t exaggerate when he said I’d forget my own name. He was… focused. On my pleasure.
Holy crap. I clench my legs together at the wave of desire coursing through me at the memory.
And I should focus on… the missed phone call.
From Dakota, Zane’s girl, and I sit up, suddenly wide awake. From the other room I can hear Ash talking to Scott, and Scott gurgling something in response as I fumble with my phone to call back.
My hand smooths over my belly, unconsciously cradling the baby, seeking to protect it—her?—from my reality and from my fear.
Dakota picks up after a few rings, sounding out of breath. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me, Audrey. You called me. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I mean…” She draws a long breath. “No. Not really, but that’s not unusual anymore.”
I gather my legs close, my heart sinking. “What happened? More nightmares?”
“Bad ones.” Her voice wavers and my eyes sting. “I wouldn’t have called about that, though. God knows he’s had worse ones recently. I just…” Another hitch, and tears slip free, tracking down my cheeks, because crap, this makes me so frigging sad. “I said I’d tell you anything he mentions, just in case it’s important.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, wipe at my face. “What did he say?”
“He was calling for someone. Tyrant? Tyra?”
I frown. “Tyrell? Wasn’t that the guy who hurt him?”
“That makes no sense,” Dakota mutters. “Maybe I didn’t hear well. I was dead tired, and the baby wouldn’t stop wailing.” A pause. “He also said something about an attic, and a dress.”
“A dress.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, who knows what it means. Maybe there was a woman involved.”
“Or maybe it was just a dream. Or a memory from some other time. Shit, I don’t know, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
She’s right. This is worse than grasping at straws. “I’ll tell Ash anyway. Just in case. You never know if Zane lets something important slip one of these days. Just…” This is hard to
ask. “Just keep telling us how he’s doing, what he says, okay?”
“I will.” I can hear little Emmanuel crying, and crap, I’m crying again. Damn hormones. “I could come over, if you’d like, girl. Help out. Ash can take Scott for as long as needed, I can get Erin or Megan or Tessa and take care of Lee so you can rest.”
“You…” Oh God, she’s crying now, too. “You’d do that? Thank you, Audrey. I think I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not. You’re very brave.”
For myself, I don’t know if I would’ve made it through something like that—watch Ash hurting so badly, for so long, with a newborn baby to care for—and come out sane.
***
“Hey, Aud.” Tessa leans over to open the passenger door of her white Jeep Cherokee for me. “You alone? Where’s the little Asher-clone?”
“His dad has him.”
“Awww, I don’t get to see my Scotty-boy today?” She pouts her ruby lips and bats her lashes at me as I buckle in and close the door. She’s dressed in a ripped red T-shirt, her purple bra showing through, and skinny jeans, huge silver hoops in her ears and countless leather bracelets on her slim arms.
She looks so pretty, like always. And wild, which is a more recent thing—ever since she broke free of her parents’ control and got together with Dylan, the love of her life.
“How about Dylan’s brothers? They at school?”
“Yep. But summer vacation is starting any day now. Little monsters will be a pain to entertain and keep out of trouble.” She smiles fondly, in contrast to her words, as she drives into the traffic. “Dylan was thinking of taking them on a camping trip. He said he’ll teach me how to fish.”
“You, on a camping trip?” I’m well aware my mouth is hanging open. “Fishing?”
She laughs. “I know, right? Me, with a fishing rod. Not the kind of rod I usually favor.”
“Tess!”
She laughs harder. “You should see your face. Like you’re unfamiliar with the kind of rod I’m thinking of. I bet Asher’s is… substantial.”
“Oh God, stop.” Flushing again. I swear my freckles are on fire. “Not talking about that.”
“And you should be careful around it unless you want...” She wags a finger and hums, “Oh baby, baby…”
