They’d won. They continued to win. This simply solidified it.
He continued to buck up inside her.
“Please, Jem,” she begged as his fingers found her clit. The combination of him filling her and his fingers playing with the right spot sent her over an edge in a way she hadn’t gone over before. This was an entirely new level of orgasm, and it shook her entire body.
She rode that wave, clutching him, crying out his name, not caring how loud she was. She collapsed forward, onto his chest, even as he ended up rolling her. He remained inside her, driving into her as one of her legs wound around him. Her sex contracted around him hard, so much so that she felt him throb inside her as he came. His expression went taut, as did his body, and for a short moment time stopped.
It was his turn to lean on her, his weight covering her, and she held on to him tightly as he shook a little, experiencing those delicious aftershocks to sex that he’d given her. For her, the earth certainly had moved and she had every intention of making sure it happened again … and again.
Chapter Twenty-six
“God, this is strange, chère,” Jem drawled at her. He’d woken before the sun, which wasn’t unusual for him. But waking up naked next to Drea was still the goddamned stuff of dreams—and it was so much better now that it had become reality.
He’d lain there, with Drea nestled against him, still sleeping, and he’d thought about the future. About what he and the team needed to do in order to fuck up the OA’s lives for good—Danny’s especially—and then where they went from here.
Drea would be with them.
Drea, who murmured, “Having sex with me?”
“Comedian.” He rubbed his thumb along her collarbone, resisting the urge to bite it, to mark her. She’d done that to him last night, and he’d proudly wear those bruises. “It’s just that, for as long as I can remember, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of here. Now I don’t want to leave.”
“Well, when you do, you’re taking me with you, so hopefully I’m a part of this equation.”
“If I had to choose between you and this bed, though …” She swatted him with the pillow. “What? It’s damned comfortable.”
She laughed. “It really is.”
“Then you’ll agree to make me that breakfast in bed you promised?”
“It was dinner. Bed was never mentioned.”
“Maybe your memory isn’t all that great.”
“Right—that would’ve served me well in med school.”
“True.” He shifted. “Tell me more about Danny.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is this punishment for not making you breakfast?”
“No. I’m planning on bribing you for that in a little bit. Business before pleasure.”
“You’re in planning mode.”
“I’m never not,” he agreed.
“What kinds of things do you want to know?”
“Shit no one else would know.” He’d listened to Drea talk to the feds. He’d known all that, but he wanted to get her talking, to give him more insight. Even if she didn’t think it was something important, it might be something he could use.
“I don’t know if I ever really knew him,” she said honestly. “Not the real him. I thought I did. At first, he was really sweet. I want to laugh when I say that, but it’s the God’s honest truth, Jem. And yes, maybe part of it was him just wanting to get into my pants because he was a seventeen-year-old boy, but still … there was something about him that was both dangerous and vulnerable. When I met him, I didn’t want to change him, but then he ended up changing totally.”
“I think you might actually be the only one who ever really did know Danny.” He truly believed that if anyone had a chance of changing Danny before he became a product of his environment, it would’ve been Drea. She had the ability to make a man want to move mountains for her. “He’s dangerous. Violent. A product of his environment, yes. But he protected you. And in the beginning, there was a point where maybe he could’ve gone the other way, and you had to be around then, because you were what almost pulled him in the other direction. But something happened.”
She was shaking her head at him. “How do you know all that? Because there were moments that I know he was sick of the violence he’d started to see happening inside the MC. The further his father drew him in, the harder and angrier Danny got, until he had this shell made of steel and everything else I loved had become trapped inside it. Including me.”
“I know that about him because the same thing happened to me. We’re all one step away from our demons, Drea.”
She stroked his cheek. “But you didn’t go in the wrong direction.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
She sat up angrily, the sheet falling from her breasts. “That’s such crap, Jem. Stop trying to push me away. It’s never going to work.”
“It might. I’m good at it.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Tell me about Danny.”
“You’re something else, Jeremiah. You really want to talk about it in bed?”
“I’ve already proven I’m better than him in bed anyway, right?”
“I can’t deny that.” She smiled a little, slid down to the pillow, head cradled in her arm, breasts still bared. “Danny was never what I’d describe as sweet. I was probably attracted to him because he was like my parents, although without the cruelty. At least at first. He was direct and in control and he was confident. He made decisions, ensuring that I didn’t have to. And somehow he built my confidence by just being around him. It was heady and exciting and he protected me.”
“Signs of a good leader are often interchangeable with those of a dictator.”
She grinned a little ruefully. “I’m betting you know about that.”
“Little bit.”
“Well, since you seem to be so good at this, why don’t you tell me about him?”
“Fine.” He adjusted the pillow under his head. “Having you leave him really fucked him up. Bad. He knew violence his entire life—it’s all he’s ever known—and he used it to protect you. But he wasn’t able to turn it off and not use it against you when you disagreed with him.”
Drea blinked. “Jesus, Jem.”
“I’ve been to a lot of therapy in my day.”
“Me too. But you obviously paid more attention.” She rubbed his arm as she spoke. “He was just familiar territory to me, although I didn’t quite see it that way at the time. But he had the same tricks, the same traits as my mom, though he was protective. So he was familiar, but he seemed better because he was all about keeping me safe. And then things went downhill. And he wasn’t above using anything to keep the upper hand in our relationship. He kept me off balance, but he also wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating me poorly—except him.”
Jem nodded, rolling all that over in his mind. “When this is over, you’ll never have to talk about him again, if you don’t want to.”
“I definitely don’t want to. Now, about that bribe …”
He smiled, rolled her underneath him and set out to make her forget her own name for the rest of the morning.
*
It wouldn’t have been Key’s first choice to travel with goddamned Ethan to the bayou, but someone had to keep an eye on him. Although the others seemed inclined to trust him—Key thought a little too much too soon—Key was fine being the lone asshole of the group.
As such, he had certain responsibilities. The first was making sure Ethan didn’t know exactly where he stood. Which meant, lots of innuendo about how no one trusted him.
Key was good at that.
They’d been on the road for ten hours at this point, and they’d only made brief stops for food and bathroom breaks. For the majority of the time, Key remained silent. The kind of silent that drove people fucking nuts. He’d heard that enough in his life.
Except when he drank.
Which was why he didn’t. Much.
“Does Drea know we’re coming?” Ethan asked finally.<
br />
“Does it say ‘information booth’ across my forehead?”
Ethan shot him a glare. “You’re just a ray of sunshine.”
“And you’re a random millionaire who wants his own team of mercenaries to play with,” Key shot back calmly.
“You’ve got a neat little box for everyone, don’t you?”
“Actually, no. See, I was always told there were two kinds of people—those who drive into the storm and those who find shelter.” Key shook his head. “They were wrong.”
“How’s that?” Ethan asked.
“There’s a third kind. The one who goes after the idiot driving into the storm.”
“And that’s you?”
Key turned. “It’s a story, not a Q and A.”
Ethan sighed. Muttered, “Always going to be an asshole, right?”
“You betcha. Least you know what you’re getting up front.”
“The rest of your team seems to feel differently.”
“Don’t let them fool you. They’re just as rabid as I am. Maybe more so. But I’m the one they like to let off the leash.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s always the quiet ones.”
“And here I thought it wasn’t a Q and A.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Key turned the radio up and they didn’t talk anymore until they reached Key’s childhood home.
*
Jem showered and came down to the kitchen to find Drea had made him a bowl of chicory coffee—a fucking bowl that Key must’ve bought. A good memory of their grand-mère. Things had been softer when she’d been in their lives.
Things were softer since Drea had come into his. Watching her, knowing how much she’d given up because of him …
“You saved me, Jem.” Her hands cupped around the warmth of the bowl.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
He couldn’t deny it. “I really love it here, Jem,” she murmured, holding the bowl close to her lips. She took a small sip, closed her eyes and sighed. “And that? That’s heaven in a cup.”
Drea might not know it, but dammit, she was his heaven at this point. Having this place become a refuge and not a prison just added to all the good things that were happening now. And still, there was so much to overcome before she’d be truly free. And she might not ever be.
Didn’t matter, though. He’d protect the hell out of her forever, if it came to that. He’d planned on doing it anyway, danger or no danger.
“I don’t want to risk ruining this place,” she continued. “I want to be able to come back here in between S8 things. I think we should find another spot.”
He knew she was right—no one could stay hidden forever, and chances were that, if they were found, this place would most likely end up damaged or destroyed. And just days ago, he’d figured he would’ve welcomed that, had figured that was why Key had tried to make him come here.
Fucking Key. “Well, you’ll get your wish. Everyone’s coming here today.”
“Everyone as in the whole world? Because I definitely don’t have the right clothes for that.”
He snorted. “Our usual suspects. They should be here within the hour. Followed by Ethan.”
She frowned. “So, there are plans?”
“We all have plans. Now it’s time to see if any of them match up.”
*
An hour and several bowls of coffee later, Gunner and Avery came in first, followed by Dare and Grace, and finally Jem met Key and Ethan as they pulled up the driveway in Ethan’s truck.
Jem stared at them. “Don’t you two make a nice couple?”
“Bite me,” Key muttered as he pushed past him and sat in one of the porch chairs.
Ethan rolled his eyes and walked the yard, phone to his ear.
“Are we not getting along?” Jem asked.
Key ignored that, pointed to the house instead. “By the way, you’re fucking welcome.”
“Give me a chance, brother. Doing this alone must’ve sucked for you.”
“It did,” Key agreed. “But it was supposed to make you happy.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re all fucking worried. I can see it in your eyes. You can’t hide shit from me, Jem. You never could, although you always tried—you wanted to protect me. But you don’t have to, not like that. So tell me, what’re you so goddamned worried about, besides the obvious shit of Ethan being an untrustworthy fuck and selling us all to random government agencies when the time’s right?”
“You and Ethan are definitely not getting along,” Jem muttered. “And you know what I’m most worried about. And it’s not Ethan.”
“I know you think being crazy’s the only thing you were ever really good at.” Key also didn’t tell him he was wrong. Not completely, anyway.
Jem shrugged, looked out at the sky. It was a cloudy day, and rain threatened. “I still contend it is. Maybe not the only thing, but without it …”
“I think being crazy got you through the abuse. And away from it,” Key contended.
“And the price of that was leaving you behind,” Jem noted, his voice tight.
Had the CIA been worth the price of often working against his conscience? “This … being here, makes me feel like I’m deserting you, all over again.”
“Ah, Jem. I get why you needed to get out. You knew that if you stayed you’d never leave, and I knew you’d always get out. I knew you did it partially to save me from the beatings. And I did get out.”
“I had people watching you, you know.”
Key rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I pretty much figured that out when I had to go to the nurse for weekly checkups to make sure I only had ‘normal childhood bruises.’”
“I would’ve come back here and killed him,” Jem said fiercely.
“I’m glad you didn’t have to. You don’t need more shit on your conscience, and you would’ve, no matter how badly Dad deserved it.” Key paused. “Drea forgives you for what happened to her. So do I. Think maybe it’s time to start forgiving yourself?”
He didn’t wait for Jem’s answer, merely motioned for Jem to follow him back inside the house.
Jem waited until his eyes weren’t blurred any longer, and then he did.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Ethan was still outside, on his phone, when Key and then Jem came into the living room. Before Ethan joined them, Drea knew she had to just make sure Jem wasn’t going to pull his hero crap again. And she didn’t bother to bring him into another room, because she knew she’d need the backup of the entire team.
“Listen, Jem, we have to talk about—”
“No,” he responded automatically.
“I might be asking you if you want me to cook you dinner.”
“But you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. It’s about the FBI.”
“I said no.”
She sighed. “Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
“I won’t let Danny take more from you. I won’t let your involvement with me take even more from you.”
“You won’t let? You won’t let?”
He frowned. “Why are you repeating what I said?”
“Because I’m pissed and you’re being ridiculous.”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t think so.”
“Of course not. Stubborn fools never admit to being stubborn fools.”
He uncrossed his arms, his frown deepening. “I won’t do anything to hurt you further.”
“You don’t get to tell me what I need to do. I get to make decisions—I have a full memory and full mental capacity,” she informed him.
“Debatable if you’re putting yourself in danger again.”
“You are debating my mental capacity?”
“Classic, right?” Jem asked seriously.
“That’s not the word I was thinking,” she muttered.
“This is better than a movie. Wish we had popcorn,” Key quipped, and Jem shot him the finger. “Wait,
we do.”
Key was up, heading to the kitchen, calling, “Someone hit pause until I get back.”
“Fuck you!” Jem called, then turned to her. “I’m always going to put you in danger. You’ll always be in harm’s way.”
“It might be like that for me with or without you,” she reminded him. “But there’s no way I want to be without you. No way I’m accepting that. So if you want to end things with me because you don’t want to be with me, because you don’t love me, that’s one thing. But if you’re throwing us away because you’re worried about dragging me into a bad situation? Forget it.”
God, he fucking loved every stubborn inch of her. “You’re the worst at letting someone do something for their own good, you know that?”
“Yes, Mr. Pot Meets Kettle.”
He advanced toward her and she smiled. She wasn’t scared of him at all. And as he hugged her, Ethan opened the door and they all turned to him.
“Now what?” Key drawled. “Let’s hear your answers.”
“You drove here with him and you didn’t ask him any questions?” Avery asked Key.
“Don’t judge me.”
Avery bit back a smile, and then they all turned to stare at Ethan. “Right. So, what now?”
Jem waited for a company line to come out of Ethan’s mouth, a “we have no choice” kind of thing.
“Now we burn it the fuck down and leave them no bridge to cross back over to us,” Ethan said decisively.
“And here I thought you were all saintly and humanitarian-like. Light and love.” Key’s drawl dripped with sarcasm.
“You thought wrong,” Ethan said, his expression like stone. “Make no mistake that I’m in this to clean up shit that I couldn’t with the government. If someone gets in my way when I try to do that, I’ll take them down. I think, in that regard, S8 and I are on the very same page.”
Well hell, there was no arguing with that, or the fire in Ethan’s eyes. There was most definitely a story, maybe more than one. A failure. An “our hands are tied” moment he’d encountered working with the various agencies, and he’d had to let something, or someone, slip through his fingers. Jem could respect that, even if he still wasn’t sure how much S8 should trust him.
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