Point of Surrender

by Stacey Lynn

  He looked back and seared me with a glare that left me breathless and my legs trembling in an entirely different way than they had only moments before. “Forget whatever happened here just now, and don’t think it’s ever going to happen again. It won’t.”

  His words sliced through my chest and made my heart ache so bad I wanted to put pressure against my chest to soothe it. But I decided right then and there that Finn was wrong.

  He was completely and utterly wrong.

  A safe and clean man, a stable man, suddenly sounded completely and ridiculously boring.

  I wanted to feel alive again.

  I wanted whatever it was that Finn could give me.

  9 Finn

  I hadn’t expected the night before to go like it did at all.

  I definitely hadn’t expected it to feel so damn good to help Meg.

  I really hadn’t expected to kiss her, much less never want to pry my lips off hers. She tasted delicious—the most pure and beautiful thing I had ever had the pleasure of tasting in my entire life.

  I had always gotten castaways. The broken and the bent, the ones who had been tossed aside and if they hadn’t given up on life yet, they did by the time I was done with them.

  Kissing Meg, listening to her soft breaths, and touching her lips that felt like silk against mine, had snapped something inside me—something that had been twisted and rotten and moldy for years.

  One damn touch of her skin on mine, her fingers lightly brushing my forearm, one damn look in her eyes as if I had just promised I could save the fucking world—

  And I had forgotten why I spent so much damn time pissed off and trying to hide it.

  She didn’t help me forget the shit in my own damn head last night.

  Meg, sitting next to me at a spot where I always went when I needed to disappear, and staying silent like she knew I needed it—she smothered the rage and evil whispers that constantly taunted me better than bottles of Jim Beam.

  I had never woken up without a dream, without a memory of my life in Australia being the last thing I saw.

  But this morning when I woke up, I had scrubbed my face like I always did before I realized scrubbing the nightmares away wasn’t necessary.

  I hadn’t dreamt of Piper. I hadn’t dreamt of our baby, Jesse, stuck in the NICU with needles and tubes all over his tiny, malnourished, purple, three-and-a-half-pound body.

  This morning, I woke up to the sound of whispered mewls, and the memory of satin lips and soft touches.

  I didn’t know what the hell to do about it, either.

  I hadn’t lied to Meg.

  That shit couldn’t happen again.

  Not when it felt so damn good, when I wanted it so bad.

  It was a recipe for disaster. But now it wasn’t just for her. It was for me, too.

  * * *

  Once I got dressed and showered, I headed toward the clubhouse’s kitchen and heard female voices filtering down the hallway before I reached the room.

  It wasn’t uncommon; after party nights, most members and their old ladies stayed at the club.

  The fact that I also heard children laughing was still upsetting.

  I liked the club more when kids weren’t around.

  Sophie was okay. She was quiet, shy, and smiled a lot but didn’t talk much, unless it was with Switch or Jaden. I was sure we still freaked her out.

  Brayden had become a different story. The kid talked.

  All the time. And loudly.

  “Brayden,” Meg scolded him.

  I turned the corner and saw her leaning over the counter.

  She had a fork in her hand and she was pointing it at his plate. “Eat your pancakes.”

  “I want eggs.”

  I could almost envision his little scowl, lips twisted and pressed together.

  “Too bad,” Meg said, catching me watching them. Behind her Olivia was flipping more pancakes at the stove and had her back to me. “Eat them anyway,” Meg finished and turned around.

  I saw her cheeks flush before she hid from me, though.

  “Hey, Finn!” Liv said as I made my way into the kitchen. “Want some pancakes? We have tons.”

  “Sure.” I grinned and glanced at Brayden. “They’re my favorite.”

  “Not mine.” He huffed and stared at them.

  And for some reason I couldn’t explain and didn’t want to look into, I pulled up a bar stool next to him and sat down. Then I reached over, drowned my cakes in syrup, and did the same to his.

  “That’s because you didn’t put enough sugar on ’em.”

  He looked at me, his eyes wide, then he looked at the bottle I had just set down on the bar. Then he looked at his plate and smiled.

  “My mom says too much syrup is bad for you.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I looked up and saw Meg watching me interact with her kid for maybe the first time when I wasn’t being a jerk—except for that day on the slide, but I still tried to forget that that shit had actually been fun.

  “Then she shouldn’t feed them to you. Trust me,” I said without thinking, and bumped him with my elbow. “It’s the only way.”

  I dug in, cutting a huge bite and shoveling it into my mouth. Next to me, the kid watched, and when I was eating my third bite, I finally saw him start eating his own.

  “How’d you sleep?” I asked Meg, because apparently my brain had short-circuited sometime during the night.

  And I actually wanted to know.

  Her head jerked back like she was stunned. Who could blame her?

  “Fine,” she said. Hesitantly. “You?”

  Better.

  Perfect.

  And it’s all because of you, which means I don’t know whether to hate you or kiss you.

  Instead, I muttered “fine,” and focused on my pancakes like they were the key to unlocking Moscoe’s hiding spot.

  Liv put four more in front of me, and I polished those off too. I grunted when spoken to as the rest of the members trudged their way out of their rooms.

  Faith, Jules, and Marie, Switch’s old lady, joined Olivia and Meg in the kitchen, and I made room at the bar for Ryker and Daemon when they claimed seats.

  Meg was in the middle of wiping off Brayden’s sticky, syrupy hands when her pink-encased cell phone began dancing across the bar top.

  Immediately her eyes flashed to mine, and her hands—which were wrapped around Brayden’s fingers—froze.

  Her eyes flew wide and I nodded.

  Slowly, she reached for it but kept her eyes on mine.

  Her fingers were trembling by the time she picked up the phone, and Ryker tilted his head in my direction.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as the cell phone’s vibrating buzz stopped.

  “Meg?” I gritted my teeth as she picked it up to see a missed call.

  Her eyebrows knitted together and she looked up, shaking her head.

  “Unknown number,” she said, and her eyes darted to Ryker and now Daemon, who were focused solely on her.

  Tension pulsed in the room and I saw Faith pick up Brayden and escort him out of the room.

  Meg’s phone chimed again and she caught her breath.

  I hopped off the barstool and took the phone from her before she could listen to the message.

  “Code?” I asked, and she shook her head, indicating she didn’t have one for her voicemail.

  “Somebody going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  I glared at Ryker as I found Meg’s voicemail app and opened it. “In a minute.”

  Then my breath caught in my throat as the masculine voice came through the phone.

  My eyes caught Ryker’s and both he and Daemon must have seen anger tighten my jaw because they were instantly moving…hopping off the bar stools like I had done and escorting Meg into the chapel room for privacy.

  All while the voice on the phone continued…

  This is Investigator Will Williams with the New Orleans Fire Department, Fire Investigative
Unit. If you could give us a call immediately so we can discuss with you the destruction done to your residence last night between midnight and two a.m., we have questions we’d like to ask you as this is an ongoing investigation.

  As if on cue, or like the asshole knew we were talking about him, Meg’s phone buzzed in my hand. I pulled back and read the message.

  Looks like your house is gone. This is what happens if you fuck with me. Two more weeks, Meg, until you give me what’s mine.

  * * *

  “Holy crap,” Meg gasped. Her knees collapsed and she sank into one of the meeting room chairs immediately after I replayed the message on speakerphone.

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.

  “My house.” She shook her head and muttered, “He took my house.”

  “Hey.” Ryker sat down next to her and draped his arm over her shoulder.

  My chest tightened watching the intimacy in that moment. Or the fact that another man was touching her.

  Somehow, my dick didn’t care that we were nothing because I would never allow it, but he didn’t like another guy touching her either.

  Even if it was just Ryker.

  “I’m going to get Xbox, see if he’s learned anything about where Moscoe is hiding yet.”

  The comment was directed at me. Since Ryker was whispering words into Meg’s ear that I couldn’t hear and she was sniffling back tears, they weren’t paying attention.

  But Daemon’s comment reminded me.

  “Fuck,” I said and took Meg’s phone off the table. “I don’t think he’s hiding anymore.”

  That got Ryker’s attention. “What?” He pulled back from Meg and reached for the phone.

  Daemon snapped it out of my hand before Ryker could reach it, and I stepped back.

  They were already going to be pissed I hadn’t said anything the night before.

  Considering we’d just learned Meg and Brayden’s house had been burned to the ground, I figured both of them might try kicking my ass.

  “Um,” Meg started and stood up. Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked vulnerable.

  Breakable—if not already broken. Remembering last night, how terrified she was, how much she’d wanted to escape and somehow seemed to understand my need for silence out at the lighthouse, it all spun in my head and I did something stupid.

  Something I’d regret later.

  I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulled her next to me, and puffed out my chest.

  Like I was marking my territory.

  Her little palm inside mine burned my skin and my fingers relaxed, letting go, but Meg squeezed onto me tighter.

  As if she needed me to be the one standing next to her.

  Then she rolled her shoulders and next to me, I felt her back straighten and her spine firm into a tight rod of internal strength.

  “He texted me last night.”

  Ryker’s head jerked toward mine. “You’re shitting me. And you knew?” Then his eyes vanished into narrow slits of fury. “And you fucking left with her? What the hell’s the matter with you?"

  “I wanted to go somewhere quiet,” Meg said, sticking up for me.

  I didn’t like it. No one stuck up for me. Ever.

  I didn’t want her doing it now.

  “I had it covered. And the kid was safe here."

  I got another twitch of her hand in mine. It felt like a flinch, but I tried to ignore it.

  Ryker’s eyes dropped to our connected hands and then sneered when his eyes met mine.

  “I told you to take care of her.”

  I grinned. “I am.”

  God, he was easy to mess with. Fucking with Ryker had provided me endless hours of entertainment since he’d shown up. So easy to rile, like now.

  Except this time I didn’t think he was joking when he leaned in closer.

  “Get your fucking hands off her. That wasn’t the deal.”

  Next to me, Meg flinched.

  “Told me to keep her safe,” I reminded him, still grinning. Because honestly…why was I still fucking holding her hand?

  But somehow, my muscles had stopped working. They had atrophied around her skin and wouldn’t let go.

  I was fucked.

  “Not by fucking her and throwing her to the side like you do the whores.”

  “Watch it,” I growled. What the…what? The words slipped—because I certainly didn’t just jump in and protect her in front of other people.

  I needed a nap.

  Or more coffee.

  Alcohol would probably help, too.

  My head was all fucked up.

  “Hey!” Meg said and ripped her hand out of mine. “Don’t be an ass, Ryker.”

  “You don’t get it, Meg,” he said, looking down at her. “He’s the last guy you want to get mixed up with.”

  He was right. Completely. Everyone in the room knew it, too. Especially me.

  “Nothing’s happening.” I took a step away from Meg to prove my point. It wasn’t. It couldn’t.

  But Meg pointed a finger at Ryker anyway. “And if there was, it’d be none of your damn business.”

  “Meg,” Ryker said, and his voice had gone soft. Almost amused, like it not being his business was the most hilarious thing in his mind.

  His possessiveness of her, his protectiveness…I didn’t like it. My chest began to burn when he looked from her to me. And I almost stepped in, wanted to stake my claim on her and force him to watch.

  But damn it, he was my brother.

  And he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.

  “Enough!” Daemon broke in. My head snapped to his and I saw his smile. It was partly hidden by his goatee but his eyes were crinkled. “Can we please get back to the shit we’re actually in here to deal with? Or do we all need to go to our timeout corner?”

  Meg snorted.

  Ryker huffed.

  I pressed my lips together and shoved my hands into my pockets.

  Mostly because the one that had been holding Meg’s hand felt strange…a bit cold…a bit lonely without her warm palm in mine.

  “Moscoe knows where I am,” Meg stated. It was the first time she’d talked about him that she sounded brave. Not so damn scared.

  It was fucking hot.

  “He won’t know about Bull’s hunting cabin,” Daemon stated and looked at Ryker for confirmation.

  He tilted his head and his shoulders relaxed. “Liv still has it?”

  “We haven’t been there yet. Could be complete shit, but she still pays the heating and electric, so it’s working.”

  “Perfect.” Ryker nodded once and turned back to me and Meg. “You’ll take her and Brayden there. No one knows about it. It’s not in Bull’s name or the club’s name so there’s no way to trace it to us. It’s a shit place, but has room for all of you. Finn can keep you safe there while the club takes care of Moscoe and figures out what to do about your house. Plus, it’s in the middle of nowhere, with a ton of private land and a dock for fishing.”

  He said this like it was a good thing. My lips twisted in displeasure.

  Time alone? Stuck in a run-down hunting cabin with Meg and Brayden?

  I was so monumentally screwed.

  “But—” Meg started, and Ryker lifted a hand.

  “Seriously, Meg. This is your only option,” Daemon said, stepping in. “The club can keep you safe, but if he’s tracking you, the club is too visible and there’s way too many people he can go after to draw you out to get to you.”

  And hell if Daemon didn’t have a point there. Some spineless prick like Maurice Moscoe would use anyone to flush Meg out of the club’s protection.

  At least this way, she’d be hours away. But no way in fuck was I going to be the one to take her.

  “I’m staying here,” I declared and watched everyone’s head snap to mine. Except for Meg. She flinched and her arms wrapped around her stomach, protecting herself.

  Ryker narrowed his eyes on me. “You’re the only one
I trust besides Tripp. You’re going.”

  “So Tripp can go,” I argued, knowing there was no point. Damn it. If I had told them about Piper and Jesse years ago I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess right now. No way would they make me do this shit. Or fucking trust me when that was pointless.

  You couldn’t help Piper. You were always a worthless waste of space.

  I shook off the sneering voice I could still hear whispered in my head only to find Ryker and Daemon smiling at me, knowingly.

  Meg hunched her shoulders and turned away, giving me her back.

  A part of me wanted to reach out—explain what the hell was going on in my head, but I couldn’t.

  It wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe it could buy me a reprieve from more babysitting duty.

  “Tripp’s a better shot if needed.” Daemon smirked, drawing me back to the present.

  I flipped him the finger when Ryker turned to Meg and pressed his hands to her shoulders.

  He squeezed, comforting her.

  I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

  Jesus. I scrubbed down my face and sighed. I was too fucked up for this. Too wired. Too tightly wound. I needed a good hard fucking, hours in the ring, and a case of whiskey.

  Instead, I was getting more babysitting.

  Fucking hell.

  “We’ll find him,” Ryker said in an attempt to soothe Meg.

  It didn’t work. She flinched out of his grasp and spun on all of us, her arms still wrapped around her stomach even though fresh tears had formed in her eyes.

  “Before he gets to me?” Meg asked, her head whipping to him.

  “Yes.” All three of us spoke it at the same time.

  And we were firm. Confident.

  We had no way of knowing that within the week, we’d be found to be a bunch of liars.

  And that it would be entirely my fault.

  Again.

  10 Meg

  I never understood the expression that tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  The air in the cab of Ryker’s Super Cab was so dense that I felt the weight around my shoulders, my legs, and pressing against my chest.