Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)

by Jen McLaughlin

  “Lucas,” he growled, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “My name is Lucas.”

  “Well, hi, Lucas.” Leaning in, I stopped when our noses were practically touching. Something sparked in his eyes, something dangerously sexy, but he didn’t react to my proximity in any other way. “Didn’t your mama teach you that it isn’t nice to grab girls without their permission?” He might be bigger than me, but I wouldn’t back down. Call it a Napoleon complex if you must, but he would succumb or I’d die trying.

  “My ma doesn’t tell me anything lately. She’s dead,” he said, cocking a brow. From anyone else, it would have sounded sad. From him, it sounded matter-of-fact. His mom was gone, and he’d accepted that. For some reason, that made his words even sadder. “Has been for ten years.”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t kill her.” His fingers tightened on me and then his eyes met mine, and I don’t know what he saw, but somehow . . . I knew he saw something, because his look softened. “But thank you, Heidi.”

  I swallowed a moan. That accent wasn’t fair, man. “You’re welcome.”

  We stared at each other, neither of us speaking.

  Dishes clanged in the kitchen behind me, and the cook laughed as he teased one of my waitresses. The door behind me swung open, and the blond waitress I’d hired the other day pushed past me with a plate of wings in her hand. Still, I didn’t move.

  I caught sight of Marco watching and he shifted his weight toward us. I gave the slightest shake of my head, to keep him at his post. I could handle this on my own. I looked back at Lucas, to see the barest hint of amusement on his face. I cleared my throat. “Are you going to let go of me anytime soon, or nah?”

  He laughed. My stomach tightened in response to his raspy chuckle. “I don’t know.” He loosened his grip to trail his fingers over my wrist. My pulse leapt at the deceptively soft touch. Despite the fact that he held my arm captive, nothing about what he did was threatening in any way. “I’m still deciding. Give me a second, darlin’.”

  “Well, I’ve got people to wait on.”

  He grinned. “You aren’t worried about them. You want me to let go because you’re helpless in the face of my devilish charm and soft Boston accent.”

  Damn it, he was right. But I wasn’t about to confirm it. “I don’t give in easily. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

  “Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Either way, I love a good challenge. And that’s exactly what you are, Ms. Greene.” He skimmed his thumb over my pulse again, grinning when it leapt traitorously. “That’s why, when you ask me to touch you again, I’ll make you admit you want me before I give you what you want.”

  With that, he let go.

  I backed up, resisting the urge to rub my wrist where he’d held me. It hadn’t hurt. His touch had been firm, yet gentle. But the urge to rub away the electrifying pings he’d left behind was still there. He didn’t look affected at all. Maybe I was the only one who’d noticed our chemistry. I had to regain control over this situation. Forcing a laugh, I tossed my hair over my shoulders. “I won’t be asking you to touch me again, Lucky.”

  “Lucas,” he said. “I told you my name, which is more than I give anyone else free of charge, so you can damn well use it.”

  Resting my hands on my bar, I forced myself to be calm despite my fight-or-flight instinct clicking to life. Something told me this man was used to issuing an ultimatum and having people obey him. I wasn’t going to be one of those people. Not in my own bar, anyway. “When you’re on my turf, I’ll call you what I want, when I want, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, his eyes full of promise and something else I didn’t want to examine too closely. His gaze made my heart quicken and my breath come faster. He gave me a sexy smile, his eyes heated and green, and ugh. “I love a challenge almost as much as I love hearing those three little words.” His voice was raspy.

  “What words would those be?”

  Lifting his hand, he counted each word off on his fingers. “You. Were. Right.”

  I snorted and lifted my own hand, mimicking his countdown. “Never. Gonna. Happen.”

  He laughed. Actually laughed. And it was as irresistible as he was. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree. Until you say the words to me, anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” I said, winking at him. “You’ll die waiting.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. I’ve been able to go without oxygen for long periods of time. My brother used to tell me I was part fish.”

  That was . . . adorable. Suddenly he became a lot more approachable . . . After all, how could someone who was part fish be . . . bad? And he had a brother. Another customer sat down at the other end of the bar. “I’ve gotta go take care of the other paying customers now. It was nice talking to you . . . Lucky.”

  He let out a growl, and I walked away, swinging my hips, hoping it looked like I didn’t have a care in the world. The other customer was an old guy who came in at ten on the dot every night for a Sam Adams and was none too happy about having to wait. I could feel Lucas’s gaze burning into my back as I moved.

  And twenty minutes later, when he left, he left alone. Not that I’d been watching or anything. Because I hadn’t been. I’d specifically forced myself not to watch him walk to the door. I almost succeeded, too, but then . . . I looked. And what I saw almost stopped me in my tracks. I thought he’d been watching me closely before. That was nothing compared to how he looked at me now. As he stalked across the dark, wood-paneled bar, he watched me as if he was a predatory hunter . . .

  And I was his prey.

  CHAPTER 3

  LUCAS

  The next night, I sat in an overpriced diner in a touristy part of town¸ hidden behind a trendy dance club that I normally would avoid at all costs. I’d spent all afternoon in solitude, counting my cash and packing up a bag in case I had to run. A guy like me always had an escape plan at the ready—especially when someone tried to knock him off while he was still locked up. I covered a yawn with my hand, shifting restlessly on the worn pleather booth we’d settled into.

  Across the table from me sat Chris, who was holding his steaming mug of coffee with both hands and blowing on it gently. Red-and-white-tiled walls surrounded us, and waitresses in fake fifties clothing skated around the crowded restaurant.

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes and kept glancing out the window as if he expected company, despite telling me it would be just us tonight. He took a sip from the mug before putting it down. He tapped his fingers once, then twice, on the table before he picked up the coffee again.

  Everything about him was off, and it made me uneasy.

  I patted my waist, feeling the hard edges of my holster. It was a violation of my probation to carry a gun, but if something was going down, then I damn well needed to be ready. I thanked God that throughout this fucked-up betrayal I had coming my way, I’d have Chris. He was the one person in this world whom I actually trusted without a second thought. As much as I could, anyway.

  “Enough. If you look out the window one more time, I might shatter it.” Shifting in my seat, I met his stare. “Why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

  Chris shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”

  “When you’re acting more skittish than a virgin turning her first trick?” I picked up my own coffee with my left hand. “Yeah, man. You kinda do.”

  Across the restaurant from us, a family of four sat enjoying ice cream sundaes. They were laughing and smiling and looked so damn happy that it almost hurt to look at them. The stereotypical happy family of four, complete with a son and a daughter. The American dream. I’d never have that.

  I’d probably never have kids at all.

  All I had to hand down to my hypothetical kids was a world built on blood and other people’s tears. Who wanted to give that to their children? Not me. And I didn’t want anyone relying on me or crying when I was found dead in an alley.


  Because that was the endgame for men like me: violent deaths, with a side order of heartbreak. Just another scumbag crossed off the Boston PD’s most-wanted list. That’s all I’d be. But did some minuscule part of me secretly wish I could have it all? The wife? The kids? The dog? The Cape Cod house with the white picket fence? Hell, yeah.

  I also used to wish I could fly like Superman.

  That didn’t happen, either.

  Chris sighed and set his coffee down again, but he didn’t let go, and he leaned in. I did, too. After pressing his lips into a tight line, he said, “Do you remember that show we talked about yesterday? The crime drama?”

  I cocked a brow. We certainly hadn’t been watching television on the docks, so this had to be some code for our conversation about someone making a move against me. “The one we watched at the bar on the wharfs?”

  “Yeah.” Chris cleared his throat. “That one.”

  A little girl’s laughter rang out through the diner, coaxing smiles from the other patrons, but the tension at our table was too thick for it to penetrate.

  “I remember, yes. What about it?”

  “You hear what happened in the first episode of the new season?”

  I shook my head. “Nah, man, but you know I don’t mind spoilers.”

  “Well . . .” Chris looked over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Well, the mayor was really impressed by how Leo handled his shit last season and wants to promote him to commissioner for the whole fucking city. Rumor is, he’s even eyeing up Leo to be his successor, when he’s done.”

  I blinked. It didn’t take more than a moment to realize who Leo was. That was huge, and I hadn’t expected to get anything even remotely that prestigious. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it. “Why?”

  “Because Leo gets the job done with no muss, no fuss, and he’s trustworthy. Last season, he proved he could keep a secret. The mayor likes a guy who’s focused on business and not running his mouth in an effort to snag wet and willing.”

  “Holy shit,” I muttered.

  Chris shrugged. “But Leo’s younger brother thought he was the next in line for the job. And he ain’t happy about being passed over. He’s not willing to stand down for his older brother, and he’s been looking for ways to cause trouble for Leo. Been jumping at opportunities.”

  I stiffened. That was a huge accusation to make, on the back end of some pretty seriously surprising news. Scotty had always been a little shit, and I’d loved him despite that, but murder? I didn’t believe that of him. Not without concrete proof. “How did you find this out?”

  “People are talking about it. I was . . . online, and somebody asked me, brother versus brother, who I wanted to win the city.” Chris latched gazes with me. His brown eyes were grave. “This shit’s real, man, and there’s no doubt there’s going to be an attack on Leo in the upcoming episodes.”

  Leo. Aka me. “God damn.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  I leaned back in the booth, my heart thudding against my ribs, and tapped my fingers on the table. If Chris was telling the truth, then my brother had it in for me. And if Scotty was gunning for me, I didn’t have a lot of options that didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth. “You realize what you’re saying, right?”

  “I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t.” Chris latched gazes with me. “I have it on good authority that Leo is about to find himself under fire, in an episode airing very soon.”

  “Fuck,” I said, glancing out the window, not sure what to say to that. I should come up with something cocky to show I didn’t give a damn, but for once, nothing came to mind. “Do you know when that will be?”

  “I’d say a week from now, at most.” He picked his coffee up again and took a long swig. “But there’s more.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it. You’re just a ray of motherfucking sunshine today, aren’t you?” I said dryly. “Does he drown Leo’s puppy and make him watch?”

  “He doesn’t have a puppy,” Chris said matter-of-factly.

  I rubbed my temples. “Yeah. I know. It was a joke.”

  “Funny. Anyway, there are whispers that the younger brother is playing at being traitor, feeding the feds bad intel on Leo,” Chris said, ignoring my gibe. “So there’s a chance he might get Leo locked up instead of outright killing him.”

  That made me sit up straighter. “Bullshit. How would he even—?” I froze. “Oh shit. The shipment. It was a setup.”

  “Yeah.” Chris winced. “Last night’s episode. Someone was running surveillance on the area, and he knew it, and Leo almost walked into a trap.”

  Motherfucker. I forced a smirk, even though I wanted to kill someone right then. “Wow, sounds like he’s awfully threatened by Leo’s presence. If I was Leo, I’d be honored that someone went to so much trouble to get him outta the picture.”

  “This isn’t some stupid joke,” Chris snapped. “Stop acting like it is.”

  I held my hands up. “Easy, man. It’s just a show, all pretend.”

  “Yeah. Sure it is.” Chris took out a twenty and tossed it on the table. “That’s all life ever is to you. Some big fucking game.”

  I picked up the twenty, shoved it back at Chris, and threw my own twenty on the table. Even though I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not, he’d risked his life to tell me his information, so the least I could do was pay for his coffee. I’d also repay him by watching his back, no matter the cost. But that was a given. “You know why I treat life that way?”

  Chris eyed the cash, shrugged, and stuffed his money back in his pocket. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I don’t like to lose.” Opening the door, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my brown leather jacket. “I hardly make it a habit.”

  Chris fell into step at my side. “Yeah, I know. You punched me when we were eight because I sunk your battleship.”

  “And I’d do it again,” I said, grinning. “No regrets.”

  “I know you would.”

  We pushed out into the night, the temperature slicing through our bones. It might be early spring, but it felt more like winter to me. I huddled into myself. It was cold as a witch’s tit at sundown, and it was only going to get colder. The sun had just set, and there was a steady wind that would be sure to freeze anyone stupid enough to venture outside.

  Chris sobered and glanced at me. “Seriously, though. What are you going to do about Scotty?”

  “No more cryptic codes?” I asked.

  “We’re the only idiots taking a stroll tonight. It’s fine. I was just being cautious.” Chris huffed out a breath. “You never know who’s listening.”

  “Agreed.” I lifted my shoulders and exhaled. It made smoke in the cold night. “And I don’t know. The way I see it, I have three options. Fight, go to jail again, or run. Leave this shit hole, and everyone in it, behind.”

  Chris laughed. “If you do that, take me with you. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere warm. I hate winter.”

  “You and me both,” I said.

  He stopped at his red Porsche. “You drive here?”

  “I walked.”

  Chris unlocked the doors. “Want a ride?”

  “Nah, I wanna walk. It’s why I left my Mustang at home in the first place. Sometimes I like to pretend I’m one of them for a little bit.” I gestured toward the Freedom Trail. “And the cold clears my mind.”

  “All right.” Chris opened his door. “But, Lucas?”

  I hunched over against the cold, keeping up my carefree exterior. “Yeah, man?”

  “Watch your back.”

  “Always.”

  I watched Chris back out of his spot and drive off. As soon as he was out of sight, I dropped the act. My carefully crafted unconcerned expression faded away, replaced by rage. So much fucking rage. My little brother was an idiot. He thought he could just kill me off and then take over Steel Row? He was insane. The Sons wouldn’t stand for it. Neither would Tate. No one would respect a man who killed someone in his bloodline
to get the position.

  Then again, in this life? Maybe they would.

  Bastards.

  Shaking my head, I cursed under my breath and turned onto the Freedom Trail. I tended to avoid this area, but tonight it felt fitting. Besides, it had emptied out a lot once the sun had gone down. All the tourists were either in a bar getting wasted or tucked in their hotel rooms with their kids, safe and sound till morning.

  I stepped around all the metal plaques that lined the way, not wanting to dirty them with my feet. Tourists loved to walk these miles to celebrate the birth of our country, land of the brave and home of the free. Paul Revere and all that shit. I walked them to escape the chains I was bound by, to be free.

  It was such ironic bullshit.

  They also liked to take pictures of their feet on the plaques for some weird reason. I didn’t get that, but then again, I didn’t get what most people did. Selfies. Love. Twitter. It was all inane to me. I dealt with jail, extortion, death plots, and betrayal—between my hard decisions and even harder consequences. I’d never be the type to take pictures of my feet on the ground and post them all over the Internet.

  And I didn’t know what to do with this latest possible betrayal, either.

  What would I do if it turned out to be credible intel? Kill my own brother to save my life? The little brother I’d practically raised, the one who’d followed me everywhere when he was growing up, including right into this life? Sure, I could kill. I’d done it before, and I could do it again. But did I want to be that guy who kills his own flesh and blood without blinking an eye? Fucking Cain and Abel. I couldn’t be considered “good” by any stretch of the word, and I never would be, but even I had to draw the line at fratricide.