Razor: Blue Collar Wolves #5 (Mating Season Collection)

by Ronin Winters

  He’d hadn’t even made the parking lot when Tank reached him, walking alongside. Without discussion they headed into the wooded area behind the bar, like they so often had before.

  After several minutes of silence, Tank said, “How you dealing?”

  “Strange. I’m not quite sure how I’m taking it.” Understatement of the century there. He was a mish-mash of crazed emotions, and seeing Aaliyah today before he was ready had everything going warp speed.

  “You mad at her?”

  That was one question Razor could answer no problem. “No. Can’t say it didn’t hurt when she left, but how the hell can I be mad at her? What, I’m supposed to be pissed my woman isn’t a pedophile? She didn’t jump on a sixteen year old kid?

  “Reasonable has nothing to do with what you’re feelin’.”

  “Nah man, I’m good there. It’s the other stuff I’m not sure about. She went through a fuck-all of a divorce. I find her ex I’m tearing his balls off – how the fuck can you cheat on your woman? Get some backstabbing whore pregnant?” It still had Razor seeing red, hearing the story from Iron, who got it from Bella. She left him alone, and for what? To be married to a lowlife piece of crap like that? “Do you think after going through that, she’s going to be open to me showing up and going, ‘Remember me? I’ve been in love with you for ten years. Let’s get mated, and by the way, I’m a werewolf.’ There’s really not a card to cover this situation.”

  Tank snorted, and even Razor had to laugh at the absurdity. Fuck his life. Fuck it hard.

  After the laughter died down, Tank smacked his shoulder and continued walking again. “Aaliyah can handle anything. Fuck, she’s the only one who ever got Cage to settle. That tells you right there what she’s made of.”

  “Cage, man – Cage was always fucking with me that he was going to steal her away. Asshole.” It was said easily, with deep affection and a tinge of pain, and both men were silent afterwards.

  They were rounding their way back to the bar, and Tank was getting antsy, showing the signs his wolf was coming to the surface. Made sense. Out of all of them, Tank spent the most time amongst humans, running his gym and training like he did. It meant he was always eager to let the wolf free when he had a chance. He pulled off his shirt, putting it to the side in a hidden yet easily found patch behind some trees. “I gotta run, man. All I can say is this – she always liked you. Being blunt, I think one of the reasons she left was because she would have gotten involved with you eventually if she didn’t, and no matter what you or I or any other wolf said, there’s no way she would have forgiven herself or ever believed she didn’t somehow force you. Aaliyah was always good people like that.”

  “Fuck yeah she is.”

  “Exactly, and good people don’t change. Which means she still feels for you. You just got to…bring it out of her. Let’s face it, she was a total sucker for your pretty face and flirting. So go back to that.”

  “Flirting.” He remembered her smiles that she did her best to subdue, the way she rolled her eyes at his suave fifteen year old self. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Then get to it, man. I’d like you have some fun with your dick before it falls off from disuse.”

  Chapter Four

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  The doorbell rang, and at eight at night, the last person she was expecting on her door was Razor.

  Aaliyah opened it, a nervous clench in her stomach as, yes it was Razor, tall and gorgeous as he had been earlier today at the clinic. Her eyes hadn’t been deceiving her with the wide shoulders and muscled stomach clearly defined underneath the shirt. “What are you doing here?”

  He was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed over his stomach and his smile an echo of years ago, when he did the exact same thing – waiting for her to open the door and let him in.

  Except now he wasn’t a boy, or even half-grown. He was a man; younger than her, yes, but still a man, wide shoulders and strong arms, and that smirky grin on a man’s face was deadly to the little bit of sense she still had.

  “Wanted to continue our reunion. It kind of got interrupted with the medical care routine. Can I come in?”

  The way he asked said he didn’t expect her to say no, and in fact he was already pushing back from the railing and moving to the door. Without meaning to, Aaliyah stepped back and gave him access to her home.

  He looked around and nodded, a pleased smiled lighting his face. There was nothing special about her home, but she did take pride in keeping a comfortable, well-kept space, and with his smile the butterflies in her stomach rose to her chest, warming her even as the jittery feeling spread. “I like your house. It’s similar to your old place.”

  “Well, my taste is pretty much the same.”

  “Same painting too,” Razor added, using his chin to motion to the large painting on her dining room wall, a woodland scene with trees and a creek running through the middle. She’d always been drawn to the rustic side, and the painting reflected that, along with the earth tones and wood furniture. Razor had always seemed to enjoy being in her home.

  “I kept most of my things in the divorce.”

  Razor’s mouth went tight, a low growl issuing between clenched teeth. “Do you want me to hurt him?”

  “Razor.” Not that she was completely surprised by the offer, but really. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

  He turned to face her fully, no longer looking around the house. “A few broken bones is the least he deserves.”

  “He deserves no such thing, we drifted apart–”

  “He cheated on you,” Razor cut in. “Fucker deserves his dick ripped off. I’m being nice by keeping it to bones.”

  It was…sweet, in its way. And she couldn’t allow that line of thinking to linger. Without forethought, she stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm. “My relationship with him is over. His life is his own now, and mine is mine. I have no interest in vengeance or payback or anything of the like.”

  His hand came to cover hers, and now, she was aware of how he surrounded her, his big body curled over her, those damn green eyes intent in a way no other man had ever matched. “What do you want from your life, then? If I can’t kill him, what can I give you instead?”

  The boy is twenty-one now, and he’s grown fine. Between him and that no-good one you married, he’s the real man. Not a soul would blame you for being interested.

  It was the last time Granny had talked about Razor, four months before her death. The problems with Damon were just beginning to surface, but Granny had always been Razor’s champion, even though it was subtle. The only comment she ever made was in passing, about Aaliyah being too fool to allow time to pass and taking what was available instead of waiting for the best fruits to ripen.

  But too much time had passed, hadn’t it? A sixteen year olds crush didn’t last forever. And what twenty-six year old man wanted a thirty-six year old woman? One with a divorce under her belt and a lot of emotional scars that existed, though she tried to keep them hidden.

  Yet Razor’s skin was warm and his touch solid, and so many of the things she adored still existed. Or was she fooling herself about that?

  “Why are you here, Razor? We’re not the same people. You can’t want what you did before I left.” Her voice was tired and worn, not what she intended, but it was the truth of everything in her shown steady in those words, that tone. She was too old for games, too exhausted to second-guess everything. She came home to simplify her life.

  “Why can’t I?

  “I was married!” Aaliyah pulled back, shaking her head against the softly spoken words. “I left you. I left everything.”

  “You never stopped thinking about me, though. I’m right, ain’t I?” He crowded her, circling her and reminding her of that last, long-ago meeting. “If you stopped thinking of me, our meeting today would have been easy and laughing. A couple calm words, a few sentences to catch up. Is that what happened?”

  No. It hadn’t been what happened, because she hadn’t
ever truly let him go. He was always buried within her. No, she hadn’t thought of him every day, or even every week, but the tiniest remembrance of home always brought memories of him with it, and memories of him were always among her most cherished ones.

  “Are you saying you still thought about me?” The challenge was strong in her voice – anything to get him on the defensive, to make this sudden guilt go away.

  He laughed, gallows humor in the sound. “I never stopped thinking about you, Aaliyah. How could you think I would?”

  Because he was supposed to. Because he was a kid, and kid’s got over their crushes. “Razor, you have to know there was no way it could have gone anywhere.”

  The fight was gone from him in an instant, and he settled heavily on the couch. “I know,” he said, voice low. “I’m not mad about that. Honest, I know. It still hurt to lose you. You were the only one I could go to with everything.”

  Hesitantly, she sat on the edge of the couch, far away from him, a cat ready to leap at a moment’s notice. “You had Tank and Cage. I thought you’d be okay with them. And your dad…” Here she trailed off, unsure where to go with that.

  Razor’s dad had always been the sore point. She had done her best, and Doc assured her that Razor and his brothers would be taken care of, that their father wouldn’t be able to touch them anymore. When she left it had been over eight months since their father physically went after him, and she convinced herself that it would be okay, but she never verified it, never made sure. Guilt began clawing its way up her throat.

  “Steel’s dad made sure me and my brothers were okay. It wasn’t perfect, but dad never touched us again.”

  A surge of affection mixed with the guilt – not quite erasing it, but numbing the effects. Of course Razor knew what she was thinking, and as he always did, he sought to make her feel better.

  “You still have that mind-reading trick of yours.”

  “Maybe I just know you.” He breathed heavily, bringing in a deep breath. “I know my crush made things awkward for you those last months, but we were friends, weren’t we? I considered you my best friend.”

  He had been her best friend. Being with Razor had been wonderful and challenging and easy in a way that it was with no one else. It had delighted her, then it had scared her, and in the end, it was what helped convince her to run.

  As tough as this was, Aaliyah had to be honest with this, with Razor. She was living here again. She was working at Doc’s. Razor was going to be part of her life again, and she couldn’t start this – whatever this was – with lies. “Those last months, whenever I had a problem, you were the first person I wanted to call.”

  “Even after you started dating Damon?”

  “Yeah.” And in some ways, that was the most damning bit of all.

  Razor didn’t look exactly happy over that news, but he did look satisfied, like he could finally settle some long battle within himself. “I’m single and you’re single.”

  A small laugh escaped at the utter cheek of the man, so unchanged from his younger days. “Which means?”

  He stood and began to move, easy loping strides without the awkwardness of youth attached. “We can’t restart. There’s too much history, so don’t even think of trying that. I can tell you I think you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She shook her head, starting to rise. “I’m thirty-”

  “I know how old you are,” he said, holding out his hand to motion her to sit again. “And let me say this one more time. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You are smart and can talk smack and you take no shit, but you can calm a crying kid and hold the hand of someone in pain until they don’t need you anymore. You were my best friend for a reason, and everything I liked about you is still there. The age thing isn’t an issue now, so I would like – man to woman – take you out and learn about you. Please go out with me.”

  Chapter Five

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  This had to be a mistake.

  Aaliyah smoothed her coat one last time, her hand ghosting over the hidden syringe in its usual hiding space, a small pocket she had sewn in to carry her unusual weapon. True, it wasn’t the most practical, but she hated guns, no one would expect her to have a syringe handy, and the mixture found inside could be used for either medical or protective purposes.

  Not that she was expecting to use it tonight. It simply went with her everywhere.

  Including when she was making a fool of herself.

  This was ridiculous, but last night when he’d been talking, Razor had looked so…

  He looked like a man. When he had been talking to her, she could see nothing of the boy she had known. He was sure and self-possessed, and utterly convincing, and she lost her fool mind and accepted his invitation to go on a date tonight. All day she’d repeatedly took out her phone to call him, and all day she never could complete the dial.

  A rumble pulled up outside, and she didn’t need to look to see it was Razor, in one of those old time, American muscle cars they loved around here. She was useless about cars, but she did know it was big and black and sounded dangerous, and maybe she liked it a little more than she should.

  He was waiting for her, holding the door open like a gentleman, though maybe it was also so in case she ran he could quickly grab her.

  It felt like she was out of her body. He seated her and they were off, and the car lulled her, because before it seemed like it should be possible, they were pulling up to a wooded path and Razor parked the car. “Where are we?”

  “Thought you might enjoy a walk by the lake. That’s romantic, right?” He had gotten out to open her door for her, holding out his arm for her to take, the gallant gesture twisting something inside her.

  “Maybe.”

  It was beautiful, and not the first time they had walked this lake. Razor always did better with movement, and often they would discuss things walking through woods or hiking mountains. Like he said though, there was too much history to pretend otherwise. Maybe this was the best way to begin again.

  The dark also made things easier in so many ways, let her be comfortable where staring at him from across a table never would. “How are your brothers?”

  “Smartasses like always,” came the quick reply, full of sibling affection and annoyance. “Jax makes fucking cool-ass metal sculptures. Rich people stumble over themselves to buy his shit. Duel works with Tank at his gym. They manage to keep their asses out of trouble.”

  Aaliyah ducked her head, thankful the blush that she could feel heating her cheeks couldn’t be seen. “This is going to sound stupid, but I have no idea what you do.”

  Razor’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck again, an endearing habit he’d always had. “I guess we were so caught up in the past, never got around to the present. I’m a firefighter.”

  The image of Razor in uniform hit Aaliyah so hard, she had to stop walking right then or she would fall over. Razor was by her side in a minute. “You alright?”

  “Um, yeah, yeah.”

  She tried waving him off, but Razor was looking hard at her, and then he must have seen too much, because he broke out into a smartass grin. “Want to see me handle the hose?”

  “I will hurt you.”

  He laughed at her waving finger, enfolding it in his own hands and giving a quick kiss to the tip. Her breath went sharp at the action, and his eyes sought hers. But he didn’t follow it up, only tucked her hand back in his arm and began walking again.

  The night was gorgeous, clear sky and bright moon, and with Razor she had always felt absolutely safe, so there was no nervousness. Hell, he was probably as big as any forest creature they’d come across.

  “Why’d you and your husband get divorced?”

  Well, she hadn’t been expecting the easy questions. Besides, this was something he needed to know, and she shoved ruthlessly at the pain that was threatening to rise up. She and Razor weren’t anything, and she refused to mourn the fact that after h
e heard this, they never would be. “I can’t have kids.”

  His big body whipped around in shock. She refused to look at him, though his eyes on her were a brand. “Cervical cancer. I have a clean bill of health, but I had to get a hysterectomy.”

  Their breaths were loud in the quiet, and from the corner of her eye was the sight of Razor’s big chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Aaliyah wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye, not letting it fall. She’d cried enough, and if cancer took yet another thing from her, she’d survive it. She’d survived everything so far. “Damon was still wrong to do what he did. He took a coward’s way out, and I’m ashamed of him. But it’s why I can’t hate him. He always did want kids.”

  There was nothing else to say, and this was the end of it, because what twenty-six year old wanted a woman who was older, already with a history of cancer, and wouldn’t be able to give him a family?

  It wasn’t until just this minute that Aaliyah realized inside her, small and meager, there had been a fantasy carefully nurtured, a fantasy involving this man, where she would meet him, strong and handsome, and he’d sweep her off her feet, and kiss her, and tell her everything would be fine.

  Absolutely ridiculous. She was the one who left, after all.

  Then she was swept off her feet, crushed against a massive chest, a big hand stroking her head, and above her, choked off whispers on repeat of “I’m sorry.”

  She curled into him, no tears, because she had already cried the tears, but letting his warmth soak into her inch by inch, thawing so many frozen parts.

  It took several long moments before she came to herself enough to realize she was literally in his arms, his body holding her weight and had been for several minutes. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hold me.”

  “One word about your weight,” and here his voice was dark and deep and so commanding, a thrill of submission swept over her, a desire to do whatever that voice ordered. “And I will beat your ass. I can hold you all night like this. Don’t you dare play mind games with yourself.”