Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  If I was gonna keep him alive, I had to keep him informed.

  I’d already decided on this path last night, while sitting next to Molly, after seeing what had happened to that little boy. But still. This was a big fucking deal. After years of giving my loyalty to Tate Daniels and all the men in the gang . . . I was about to call a Boy. A cop. Never before had I trusted one of those.

  How could I do so now? How could I not?

  Gritting my teeth, I hovered over Tate but selected Scotty on my phone. He picked up on the second ring. “Where the hell are you?”

  I laughed, short and hard. “Like I’m gonna tell a cop?”

  “I’m not—” Scotty didn’t finish that sentence. After a long pause, he said, “You know?”

  “Of course I know.” I gripped the phone tighter. “Only a Boy could play off the shit you did, and so fast, too. We both know that the dental records for Lucas and Heidi shouldn’t match up, but they do. So tell me how it’s possible that I watched them drive off into the sunset, to live happily ever after, and yet the dental records match?”

  A door shut. “Maybe I’ve just got connections.”

  “Bullshit.” I laughed again. “We both know that’s not the case, don’t we?”

  “So if that’s true, why haven’t you told Tate about me yet?”

  I paused, considering my answer carefully. “Because when a man finds himself alone in the world, with a bounty on his head, he starts to reevaluate what’s important in life. I never should have turned on Lucas. I—I regret it. All of it.”

  “That’s what any guy in your situation would say,” Scotty snapped.

  “True.” I rubbed my forehead with my free hand. The movement hurt my shoulder, but I didn’t even wince. Too much was at stake to be distracted now. “But I could also go to Tate and tell him I know your dirty little secret. I didn’t. And I won’t. Your secret is safe with me. So is Lucas’s.”

  “So you say.” Something shuffled, and I could just picture Scotty sitting at his desk, a case file open in front of him, like a real fucking cop. “For all I know, you showed Tate that bloody note Lucas gave you, and you told Tate the truth about me. The second I show up at Steel Row again, I’m dead, and you win.”

  I didn’t want that note anymore, or the power the note would give me. I’d pulled it out of my jeans pocket and stashed it away in Mr. Lachlan’s room, but I had no intention of actually using it. It wouldn’t work, and even if it did, I didn’t want it. Not anymore.

  But Scotty would never believe that.

  “The same could be said for me,” I argued. “You could have ratted me out, too. What I did is enough to get me jumped out of the gang, at the very least. More than likely, it’s a death sentence. One I fully deserve. I should be gutted, dismembered, and burned alive—like the traitor I am. That’s what we do to guys like me.”

  “I agree. You deserve it.”

  I laughed. What the hell else was I supposed to do when he was right to want me dead? “At least we see eye to eye on one thing.”

  “The only thing,” Scotty said, his voice hard.

  “Well, you’ll probably get your wish. The night is young yet.”

  Scotty sighed. “What you did was fucked-up, man. Lucas trusted you. Loved you. And even worse? You led him to believe I was trying to kill him. My own brother. And he trusted you enough to believe you over me—his brother.”

  Guilt, a familiar weight, settled on my shoulders. It would never go away, because I would never forgive myself for it. For any of it. “I know. I’m sorry. I really am. If there was a way for me to let Lucas know I regretted my actions, I would.”

  “But you can’t. Because he’s dead.”

  I gritted my teeth. “We both know that’s not true.”

  “As far as the Sons go, it is.” Scotty sighed. “We should be in the habit of saying it out loud so we don’t slip up.”

  I snorted. “Real tips from a real cop. I feel honored.”

  Scotty was silent for a while, and I didn’t blame him. He was probably trying to decide whether to trust me or not. I wouldn’t blame him if he decided not to. I wouldn’t trust me, either. “Why did you call me? Just to tell me you know my secret? To threaten me?”

  “No. No threats.”

  “Then what?” Scotty asked.

  “I fucked up, man, but I won’t do it again. I know where my loyalties lie now. I heard from a guy in Bitter Hill. He gave me some intel. Reliable shit.” I glowered up at the bottom of the table, knowing this was a life-changing moment. That it was the second I changed sides and started working with the “good” guys, but it sure as hell didn’t make me good. “I just wanted to warn you—Bitter Hill is coming for you. They can’t get Lucas, so they decided you’re second best. You, Tommy, and a couple of other lieutenants.”

  I left out the part about the hit on me. It was redundant to point it out.

  We both knew why they wanted me dead.

  He cursed under his breath. “And you’re telling me this because . . . ?”

  “I let down Lucas. Hurt him.” I sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding so loudly in my head I couldn’t make out my thoughts. “I can’t take it back, but I can do my best to keep his little brother safe for him. From now on, that’s what I’m gonna do. From now on, I’m in your pocket.”

  Silence, followed by: “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Dead fucking serious.”

  “You’re willing to turn your back on your pops, who would go down hard as the lieutenant of incoming shipments?”

  “Yes.” I ground my teeth together. “I meant what I said. I can’t make it right, but the least I can do is make sure you’re still breathing. So watch your back.”

  Scotty made a frustrated sound. “This could be a ploy. Another attempt at a power play. Get me to trust you enough to turn my back on you, and you pop me when I’m not looking.”

  “You’re right.” I laughed harshly. “It could be, but it’s not. If you don’t believe me, I understand why. But it’s the truth. Stay alive, kid.”

  I hung up, staring down at the phone I held.

  Well, I’d done it. I’d betrayed the man who trusted me, but now I’d turned on my whole gang—including Pops. And you know what? It felt pretty damn good, too.

  With one phone call, I’d changed my destiny.

  I wasn’t so foolish as to think it made me a good guy, or that it meant I could change. After what I did, and who I did it to, I couldn’t. There was nothing to be done that could change my course in life. It was time for me to leave this little slice of heaven I’d found, and the softhearted angel who came with it. Molly Lachlan. As if on cue, the door opened and Molly came in, juggling her bag, a purse, and a grocery bag filled with food.

  Today she wore a red dress with a belt at the waist, and she was as fresh and clean as always. And just as untouchable, too. “Chris?”

  Every day, she came in and called out my name, as if she expected me to be gone without a proper good-bye. And the thing was, she was right. When I left, there wouldn’t be any tender words or soft gestures. No lingering hugs or hesitation. Guys like me didn’t deserve that. We just slunk away back into the darkness, where we belonged.

  Alone.

  “Down here,” I said, scooting out from underneath the table.

  She scanned the room till she spotted me, and relief filled her features the second she did. I had no idea why, but she actually wanted me here. She liked me, which was fucked-up. A smile lit up her beautiful face, and her hazel eyes brightened, and she was even more angelic than ever before.

  If she was the angel, I was the devil.

  And it was time she booted my ass outta here.

  “Oh.” She set the bags down and shrugged out of her coat. Her slim form twisted and turned, and I couldn’t look away from her tiny waist or the soft curves of her
body. Perfection. That’s what she was. “What are you doing down there?”

  “I was fixing your table.” I stood and rubbed my hands on my jeans, but they didn’t come clean. The symbolism of the moment wasn’t lost on me. “It wobbled.”

  Her soft pink lips curved up into a smile. When she did that, the freckles on her cheeks danced about her pale skin, and it was as charming as it was enticing. “You don’t have to fix stuff for me. You know that, right?”

  “It’s the least I can do, since you let me stay here so long.”

  Her smile wobbled and faded. “Do I sense a past-tense tone to that sentence?”

  “Molly.” I forced a smile and walked over to her, grabbing the grocery bags off the counter and heading for the fridge. “At some point, I’m gonna have to go. It’s not like I’m moving in permanently as your butler or something.”

  She blinked at me, not laughing at my attempt at humor. “Of course not. You’re absolutely right.”

  When she turned away from me, rummaging through her purse, I studied her profile. As unlikely as it might seem, I cared about her. Always had. But that was exactly why I had to go.

  I took a step closer to her, my heart pounding. “Princess?”

  “God.” A laugh escaped her. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  “Yeah.” Another step closer. My palms itched to touch her. To stroke her soft skin and kiss her until her worries faded away. To protect her from the world. From me. To take all the bad I’d done, and all the horrible things I’d learned how to do, and turn them into something good—as a means to keep her alive. “It’s why I do it. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” Another step had me directly behind her. “That’s so.”

  “I—” She turned back to me, gasping when she saw how close I’d gotten. Her lips parted and her pulse raced. I could tell by the way she gripped the table behind her and the way her pupils dilated as her breath quickened. “I got something for you,” she finished breathlessly.

  I glanced down, tensing when I saw what she held. A drawing pad, some charcoal pencils, and some pastels, too. “Why the hell did you get me those?”

  “I—” She flushed. “You mentioned drawing in passing last night, and then I saw you doodling this morning, before you crumpled it up and threw it away. You seemed familiar with a pencil . . . so I thought maybe you might like something to draw with.”

  I swallowed hard, feeling as if some small part of myself had been exposed. I didn’t talk about my hobby, and no one else knew I enjoyed sketching. Drawing, for me, was a cathartic exercise that kept my mind and my hands busy. Without it, I grew on edge. I thought about things I shouldn’t. Did things I knew I shouldn’t. Made mistakes.

  And I’d made enough of those lately.

  “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds,” she said softly, her grip on the pad tight. “You don’t have to take them if I’m wrong.”

  The fact that she’d noticed such an intimate detail that no one else had ever seen before was unsettling, to say the least. It made my chest warm up and my pulse race, and shit, I wanted to . . . to . . . hug her. Which was fucking insane. I didn’t hug people.

  But she had done this, and I needed to show her how much that meant to me. We were a perfectly respectable distance apart—safely in the friend zone, one might say. But with her, it seemed like more, because I wanted her more than I wanted my freedom. I wanted her with a passion and a fiery hell that nothing and no one could ever touch.

  Since I couldn’t have her, I would take the next best thing. I’d take what she gave me, and draw her. I would try to capture her beauty in charcoal forever, since soon I would be out of her life.

  It would be a way for me to remember the time I had, and never ruined, Molly Lachlan. “You’re not wrong at all. I do enjoy drawing.” Reaching out, I closed my hand around hers and around the pad. “Thank you for thinking of me. No one else—I mean, that was very kind of you. Thanks.”

  She licked her lips, staring at our joined hands. “May I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything you want,” I said, smirking, trying to shake the feelings she’d caused by giving me drawing supplies. To her, it was a way of life. For me, it was an anomaly that I didn’t know what to do with. “I might not answer, but ask away.”

  “What things do you draw?” She dashed a glance at me, but quickly turned away. It was clear that my being this close to her discomfited her. “I mean, you know, what types of drawings?”

  I shrugged as if it wasn’t awkward for me to talk about something so private. “Whatever inspires me at the moment.” You. Her beauty and selflessness—something I never saw much of in the world—needed documentation. I just hoped I could do her justice. “People. Places. Events. Nature. I do it all. But I’m not very good at any of it.”

  She watched me skeptically. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe she didn’t believe I could have an artistic bone in my body. “Can I see some of your work?”

  “It’s all at my place.” I forced a smile, but even though that was true, there was no way in hell I would be showing her my shit. Not even Lucas had been privy to my art. “Sorry.”

  “You can show me after you draw whatever inspires you now.”

  I laughed. “No.”

  “Why not?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. The movement made a lock of hair fall in front of her face. “Are you scared?”

  “I don’t get scared.” Unable to resist, I reached out and tucked the hair behind her ear slowly, savoring the excuse to touch her. Her silky hair teased my fingers, and her cheek was even softer than I’d imagined. Like satin. It would be hard to capture that on paper, but I’d try my damnedest to do so, anyway. “That feeling died long ago.”

  “Everyone is scared of something.” Her brow furrowed. “Maybe losing someone you love?”

  “There’s no one left in my life to love,” I said honestly. “If you love nothing, and need nothing, no one can use that against you.”

  She shook her head. “What about your parents?”

  “I—” I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to tell her. But the truth was, I didn’t love them. Pops was an asshole, and Ma was as guilty as he was. With parents like them, I never stood a chance at a normal life. “It’s complicated.”

  “Why?”

  Some shit was for me and me only. She didn’t need to know my pops beat me or was an asshole who couldn’t accept that I wasn’t a carbon copy of him—and never would be, no matter how many times he hit me. Or, at least, I hadn’t been until I’d betrayed Lucas. “Because it is.”

  She nodded slowly and rested a hand on my chest. My heart accelerated at her touch, showing her how much she affected me, even though I couldn’t tell her. “I’m sorry for that. I truly am.”

  The thing was, I believed her. No matter what I told her, or how I said it, she seemed to accept me for who and what I was. She invited me into her home. Took care of me. Showed me nothing but compassion. She made me doubt everything I knew about humanity and life and even death.

  She made me doubt myself.

  CHAPTER 10

  MOLLY

  Chris was hardened, cold, and deadly. There was no denying that, or hiding it. But all that dangerous darkness was entangled with a striking vulnerability that he tried his best to hide from the world. And he was good at it. But now that I’d spent a few days with him, my opinions on him had changed.

  And my determination to keep him at arm’s length had died a slow, painful death, too. Yes, he was still dangerous, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise, and the stormy, untamed emotion brewing inside him was enough to make any sane woman turn away . . . and yet, I couldn’t. Underneath that power and passion was a desire to be accepted for who he was. To be the man he always wanted to be but never stood a chance of becoming. And I want
ed to help him find that guy.

  I wanted him.

  Judging from what I’d pieced together and what I’d seen, before I found him in that alley he’d hit rock bottom. I couldn’t help but think that it was my duty to help him climb back up. And if I did that, maybe it would help me accept the fact that the man who killed my father, much like Chris, probably hadn’t had much of a choice, either. Maybe if someone had taken the time to show him he was human, too, my father would still be alive. Or maybe I was just crazy.

  His soft touch on my skin was still radiating through my veins, and my body awakened every time he came near me. I couldn’t ignore that reaction to him anymore, no matter how hard I tried.

  “How’s your hand?” he asked, lifting my palm and turning it toward the light. “It looks better. Almost healed.”

  I forced a smile, but my stomach clenched tight at his lingering touch. This unanswered need he brought to life within me was as unwelcome as it was uncharted. I’d never wanted a man as much as I did him, and I didn’t really know what to do with it. Especially since he didn’t seem to reciprocate the feeling. The one and only time we’d gotten close to kissing—or at least, the time I thought we had—he’d pulled back and acted as if nothing had happened. And he hadn’t touched me like that since.

  “It’s much better. Thank you.”

  “Good.” He ran his thumb over the red gash. I shivered and closed my fingers on him, without really meaning to, but not wanting to let go, either. “It’s gonna scar.”

  I eyed him, knowing that underneath that shirt he wore, he had a lot of scars that couldn’t be explained away as battle scars. Something told me they came from someplace darker, which was why he didn’t want to talk about them. And I had a pretty good idea where they had come from—or I should say, whom. “We all have a few of those, don’t we?”

  “I would rather you didn’t.” His grip on me tightened. “You deserve to live a life free of pain.”

  “But I haven’t.” I pressed my lips together, thinking of my father. The cold reality of his loss washed over me again and reminded me why it was so important I not give in to the gravitational pull that I felt toward Chris. “No one does. Not in the real world.”