by Marata Eros
My lips curl into a smile. “Maybe it's a girl angel?”
“Maybe,” he says softly. “But I wasn't convinced there was a heaven.”
“And now?”
His blue eyes hold my gold ones. “Might be a convert.”
*
Candice
“You sure cook for me a lot.”
I gobble fried eggs and sausage. All the sex has made me ravenous. I sit on a stool at an ancient kitchen counter and swing my legs restlessly.
I wipe the entire yoke and remnants of crumbled meat with a half slice of sourdough bread then fold the toast. Taking a huge bite, I moan at the taste.
“I do like your sounds, Candice.”
“That's not my real name. Not really.”
Viper sighs. “Well, my name is Vince Morgan.”
“I know, and I love the sound of that,” I say thoughtfully. “Two first names together always sound great. But Viper is stuck in my brain.”
“Why tell me your alias now?”
I've thought about it and made the decision. “Because I'm going to take early retirement.”
Viper snaps his face to mine. “Why?”
“I'm done.” I turn my fork over and under, under and over, tapping the tines lightly on the edge of the plate. “Burnout comes fast to agents who work on these sex-trafficking rings. And the children.” I can't meet his eyes. Too much grief.
“Good.”
My chin lifts. Finally, my gaze meets his.
“You didn't have any more of a life than me.”
True. “Yeah. But I have to say, if this thing between us—”
“Our relationship?” His eyes razor down on me.
I don't miss a beat. “Yes. I guess that's what this is.”
“You're damn right it is. I threw down for you.” He pierces me with his gaze.
“Then I have to tell you, I come with baggage.”
Viper's brows rise. “Short of you saying you have a hidden husband somewhere, there are no fucks given.”
I laugh, remembering his T-shirt. I do care about him. And the depth and speed of that care scares the shit out of me. “I'm adopting Calem Oscar.”
“The kid?” Surprised, he sets down his half cup of black coffee.
I nod slowly, figuring this will be the deal breaker, and I steel my heart for the words that sever the delicate bond that's been forming like a tether of titanium.
Viper comes around the counter and plants an elbow right beside my plate, leaning in close. He gently takes my chin in his hand, staring deeply into my eyes. I notice flecks of silver within the pale blue, adding to the illusion of icy paleness, like sapphire snow. “Colleen and I wanted kids.” He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls far enough away to recapture my eyes. “You're not going to scare me with that.”
My relief is so powerful, it causes me to be vaguely lightheaded. “Good,” I manage.
He dips and kisses my mouth, his warm breath bathing the surface of my skin. “I might even want some of my own. Even though I'm a geriatric.” He winks as tears fill my eyes.
I shake my head within the loose grasp of his fingers. “I don't think I can have any.”
My gaze falls. Shame I shouldn't own filling me.
“From what that bastard did to you?” he growls.
I nod. “I've been told it's possible, but unlikely.”
“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”
Covering my eyes with my hands, I remember. And I don't want to. The footsteps. The smell. The pounding of an organ inside me like an invader. Hot, stale breath in my ear.
I shudder. “Puck saved me.”
Large warm hands cover mine. “Not every time.”
Our eyes meet. “No,” I say in hoarse confirmation, “not every time.”
Viper pushes my legs apart and moves in between them, wrapping his arms around me. “Some men are demons, flesh-wrapped as humans, but they don't possess a shred of humanity, Candice.”
Tipping my head back with a finger, he brushes a kiss on my lips and finds my tears instead.
“He broke my ribs if my body didn't respond how he wanted it to,” I confess in a whisper.
“God—Candice.” Gently, he pulls me tight against his chest. “And Storm hurt you too.”
“That wasn't Ren's intent. Just went too far, didn't even know I was an agent.”
“Don't care. I want to kick his ass too.”
“Get in line. He's not a real popular agent.”
“What else did your father break?” Viper asks me with clear disgust coating his words.
I place my hand on the upper left part of my chest. “My heart.”
Viper takes my hand in both of his. “I will never do that. Never,” he says fiercely.
“How do I know for sure?” I cry softly, weeping out every broken piece of myself that I've kept together for twenty years.
“Because I know how it feels,” he says simply. Then Viper tucks me in against his body, lifting me from the stool, and carries me to an old couch.
A fire is lit, and the entire scene is romantic. I'd like to say we made love for the fourth time. But that would be a lie. It was better than that. Viper held me like he'd never let me go.
And I let him.
*
“I have to go. Puck will worry.”
“Puck will worry? I'm with you.” He thumbs his chest.
“Pfft—that's why he's going to worry, Viper.”
He grins, and the little boy he must have been peeks out at the edges.
I bet he kept his parents hopping. Speaking of. “Are your parents still alive?”
He nods. “Barely. Old man's too stubborn to die. Mom takes too good of care of him to quit.” He shrugs. “Works.”
“Did you have a normal childhood?” I ask, holding my breath.
“Normal's a setting on the dryer… but yeah. Folks were good to me.” His laser-blue stare holds me captive. “They'd like you, Candice.” He cocks his head. “What's your real name?”
“Actually…” I look down for a couple of seconds then meet his eyes. Though twilight makes it hard to see much more than shapes, light from the front porch illuminates Viper. “We took my mom's maiden name—Johnstone. Arlington's just a fake name.”
“And Candice?”
“That's a little bit real.”
Viper's eyebrows rise.
“It's my middle name. Never went by my first anyway.” With slow reluctance, I confess my dreaded first name. “Beatrice.”
“Beatrice Candice?” Viper starts to laugh from his belly. “That's truly awful.”
“Thanks,” I grumble. “Apparently, nobody had a sense of how two similar names sound awful together.”
“Or that Beatrice just sucks by itself.” Viper snorts, and I laugh. “Your Mom—did she pick that name?”
“Oh,” I say, and his amusement fades, probably because of the expression on my face.
“What happened?”
“I know it never happens nowadays, but she died… having me.”
“Candice—shit, I'm sorry.” He wraps me in his arms as we stand just a few feet away from my Scion.
“You didn't know. My mother had a great aunt where she came from in England, and I guess she wanted to honor her somehow.”
I feel him shaking and pull back.
“Sorry, babe, but Beatrice?”
I roll my eyes. “I don't go by the name, but it's on my birth certificate.”
“Candice is better.”
I make a sour face at him. “Yeah, duh.”
“Listen, didn't mean to laugh at your unfortunate name.” Viper's face grows serious, and he forces me to look at him with a finger to my chin. “I'm sorry your mom wasn't there, Candice.”
I gulp back the deep hurt the void has made in my life. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“And I don't like you going home at night.”
“I'm staying at Puck's. Nobody knows where I live but him.”
His eyes
take in the dark landscape that surrounds his small cabin. “Don't have a good feeling.”
“You worry too much. I'm dangerous, remember?”
“Hey, babe, don't discount my instincts. I've lived a helluva long time by gut alone.”
“There is no threat. I'm on admin leave, and I'm taking Ted up on his suggestion of retiring.”
“I am dating an old broad,” Viper says with mirth.
“Oh, shut up.”
He hugs me tenderly, pressing my back to his front, and my head easily fits under his chin. Kissing the top of my head, he says, “Don't go back to that townhome. Don't stop until you get to Puck's. Call me the instant you arrive.”
“God, you're bossy. And I can text, you know.”
“Hate the fucking tech.” He frowns.
“Your age is showing.”
I turn in his arms.
“I don't care. Want to hear your voice, not get your words on a screen.”
My lower lip trembles at his concern. His care.
“Hey,” he says softly, “just let me give a shit.”
“Why do you, Viper?”
He doesn't answer right away, just shakes his head. But finally, when his words reach me, I cry. And when I leave, I know I'll be coming back. Forever.
Because those words will keep a woman tied to a man.
“I give a shit because you're the last woman I'll love, Candice.”
Chapter 27
Puck
On my way.
The text makes me breathe easier. Knowing Candi is safe, even if I'm not with her.
Kk.
My answering text is too abbreviated. But I just need to acknowledge. Not lecture. Not worry.
But until I hear from Perry that he's outside bio-dad's door and that fucker's contained therein, I'm not going to rest easy. It doesn't matter that my sister and I don't have recourse about the events that happened over two decades ago. Candi and I both heard his threats. It wasn't just Calem Oscar that Jerstad wanted. He wanted my sister too.
Candi and I both heard his threats. How arrogant does a man have to be to swoop in and try for his adult daughter? Who just happens to be an FBI agent. Even better than that—who could kick his ass.
She would be happy to. Candi would be in line right after me. I want to hand out the violence again. There could never be enough of all he deserves. Just knowing that fucker is alive is a daily abrasion on my brain. Like bleach. I could ignore the memories when Candi and I were busy, cleaning up where we could. But now Jerstad is in our face.
I'm not surprised he was trafficking kids. Not since he was raping my sister when she wasn't even a teenager. Just a girl. An innocent, trusting girl.
My fists clench. I wasn't old enough to protect her when she needed me most. I got old fast. Got strong fast. Got hard fast. All the “fasts” were installed because of the sickness spreading in our home like a rampaging plague.
But just because Candi and I can't nail Samuel Jerstad for his crimes against his own children doesn't mean we can't work our damnedest to see he gets put away for trying to harm everyone else's.
My phone vibrates, and I set down my second beer to check it out.
Perry: Not here.
I stand, the chair scraping across the floor with a shriek.
Me: WTF?
Perry: Settle. Doesn't mean he's after our girl.
Me: Doesn't mean he's not.
Instantly, I send out a text to Candi. ETA?
Okay, so Candi's driving. I got that. She's cautious about texting and driving. Not because it's the law, but because that's just who she is. But she's not cruel. She would hear or see the text and not get right back. She told me Viper lives somewhere in Ravensdale, I remember. Any way the crow flies, she would be less than twenty-five minutes out.
Scrolling minutely upward with my thumb, I read that our communication is only ten minutes old.
Shit. Don't panic, Puck. Yeah right, I'm so type B that way.
Fucking panicking. My thoughts briefly touch on Viper—he was the last one to actually see her. Fuck it.
I tap his number on my glass-encased screen.
He answers on the second ring. “Yeah.” That one word. Cautiously wary.
“It's Puck.”
A few seconds of silence pound away, then he asks, “Something wrong?”
“I don't know.”
I can almost feel him sharpen across the cell line. “Candi just left here ʼbout fifteen minutes ago.”
My heart starts racing for no reason. Intellectually, I understand she's still a possible ten minutes out or so.
I turn my cell to face me. No message. Putting the phone against my ear, I breathe but don't talk. Thinking. Sweating shit out.
“I know you're her brother,” Viper says into the silence.
“Yeah,” I answer, vaguely surprised she told him.
“Makes things different.”
Yeah. “For me too. I don't want her dating you, but this isn't the time to discuss it.”
His unimpressed snort comes across like a rung bell. “What do you want to discuss, Puck?”
“Our father's out on bail, and my partner says he's not at his residence.”
Viper puts shit together fast—I'll give him that. Probably why he's the president for the reigning MC of the quad-state region. “Think he's going to make a move for her?” His voice is low, careful—part question, part statement. But I hear the menace in it.
“Candi can take care of herself,” I say automatically. I state the facts, attempting to convince myself.
“Then why are you calling me, spinning my shit up like a top?”
Why am I? “Because Samuel Jerstad is diabolical in the extreme. Smart, perverted, loaded—hell, those things don't dial down with age. They just get more.”
Viper grunts. “Yeah, I know that.”
“Can you spare a few of your men to follow where you think she might have gone—her route?”
“I threw down for her. Want her as property. I can spare every fucking man I got.”
I can't contain my next words. “Candi's not anybody's property.”
“That's what she said.” His amusement carries over the line.
“Fuck you, Viper.”
“Later. Right now, my woman's out there with a possible agenda from her father.”
“Yes.” I'm glad that he sees the need for paranoia. We have that much in common. “You don't seem too worried.”
“Not. As soon as shit got real, I had Noose take care of all the problems with knowing where Candice is.”
My mind whirls, and the pieces of the puzzle coalesce. “You had her car tagged.”
“Yes.”
I feel my face tighten. “Don't you fucking trust her?”
“I don't trust anyone else.”
Fuck. “Then get your guy to find out where she's at.”
A few silent seconds grind by.
“I already know. She's at your place, Puck.”
Spinning, I glance at the front door, and my stomach drops to my feet.
There stands our biological father, face beaten, one eye partially swollen shut from the fist love I gave him. It's been over a week, but my efforts still hold to his flesh in a rainbow of violet, chartreuse and sickly green. Not that the beating appears to have slowed him down.
“End the call, William,” my father says softly, a gun stuck against Candi's head. He shoves the barrel hard for emphasis, and her head jerks forward with the movement. “And don't let on there's a problem, or I will forgo the pleasure of tasting your sister again and kill you both now.”
Adrenaline singes my extremities, my fingertips and toes numbing out. “Yeah, she's at my place,” I mimic robotically in answer to Viper while Candi's terror-filled eyes lock with mine.
A heartbeat of time drums between us, and Viper asks slowly, “What the fuck is your problem?” Clearly misinterpreting my hesitation. “We're both after the same thing for Candice—her protection. Don't be a dick.”
/>
“I'm not being a dick,” I say.
Silence on the other end.
Jerstad looks at me expectantly. “End it. Now.”
“What's wrong, Puck?” Anxiety fills his gravelly voice where irritation reigned before.
“We'll talk later. I need to go.”
“Something's wrong.”
I pause for a nanosecond then answer, “Yeah. We'll talk soon.” I swipe my thumb across the word end.
“Who was that?” Jerstad asks.
Hope Viper got my message. “Road Kill MC president,” I answer truthfully, but my eyes move to Candi's.
He's got her zip-tied. Needed to get her lethal hands bound.
Jerstad shoves Candi forward, and without the balance of free hands, she stumbles. I catch her.
The gun swings to me. Candi and I stare down the dark hole at the end of the gun together.
“Puck,” she says.
“I'm here.”
Still holding the gun, Jerstad reaches his free hand into his pocket, grabs another pair of zip ties, and tosses them to me. Automatically, I catch them midair.
“Put them on and use your teeth.”
“No.”
Without hesitation, he points the gun, firing directly over our heads. Plaster explodes, raining down in a puff of white like a split bag of flour.
Ears ringing, I do as he says. Maybe I can keep him talking. “How'd you get to Candi?”
Candi wheezes an exhale.
His grin is malicious, the same one he wore when he hurt us. “Children are a great distraction to our sweet Candi.”
“I'm not yours,” she says.
His eyes, so like Candi's, shift to her for a moment. “Oh, but you are. I spawned you, and I've fucked you.”
Candi flinches.
“I'd say that makes you mine.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell.
“There is a child, hogtied and ready for abuse on your front steps. Candi didn't think about her own safety, of course, or why a child would be bound thus and deposited like a gift.” He smirks at her. “She just rushed in to get to the kiddo. The bait.”
Jerstad chortles at his self-perceived brilliance, eyes sparkling like captured suns.
