by Holly Hall
My head jerks back, and even though I was just thinking it, I can’t force the concept of leaving to make sense in my brain. Making my decision that much harder, Dane’s strength seems to stagger with each word he uses to convince me to go. It punches holes in my gut.
“We don’t have to think about that now.” I reach up and place a hand on his shoulder, running it up his neck and into his hair. “Whatever you’re worried about, stop.”
Dane turns his head just the slightest bit, kissing me on the soft part of my forearm. And although the days ahead are shrouded in uncertainty, his lips are warm. His eyes skim my bare legs up and up until they finally meet mine.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop worrying about you. Not until this is finished.”
“Well, that won’t be today. Or even tomorrow,” I say softly. I wish it was enough to smooth the creases of worry from his forehead. To distract him so he won’t look so heartbreakingly regretful. When I stand up, I step closer, between his knees. His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, drawing me in, and his mouth is hot when he touches his lips to my stomach, over my t-shirt. Then his hands continue their trip north, catching the fabric of my shirt and lifting the hem enough to kiss bare skin just above the waistband of my panties. His proximity, the heat of his breath on my abdomen, it’s intoxicating.
As he rises, he draws my shirt up and over my head, kissing his way up to my sternum before he lets the shirt drop to the floor. Taking my face in his hands, he subjects me to the full potential of those lips. They coax mine open with the barest suggestion, taking my bottom one in his teeth before sliding his tongue between and grazing it along mine. My hands land on his waist, and I can’t fight the undeniable pull of my body and my heart toward the one place I never thought they’d go. I tug him closer by his shirt while his fingers thread through my hair, tangling and sending spikes of sensation through my scalp.
“You shouldn’t be down here in bare feet,” he murmurs against my lips. I don’t have time to respond before his hands are on my backside, lifting me as easily as he’d lift a backpack.
I lock my legs around him, clinging to him while we travel together back the way I just came. Then he’s laying me atop the mussed sheets on the bed, poised on one knee to keep his weight off me. When I fist my hands in his shirt and tug him closer, he gives, but not completely. His forehead comes to rest on mine, keeping a maddening space between our lips, far enough to drive me wild with want. Every inch of my skin seems to hum with coiled energy, just waiting to be released against him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
My hands stop tugging. “You won’t hurt me. You can’t.”
I can see his resolve shrinking, but not enough. “I feel like shit, still wanting you after all that’s happened tonight. I should tell you again to leave town and never come back.”
“I hope you don’t.”
That’s all it takes for the final piece of his defense to crumble, and our lips clash together again, hasty and impatient, every ounce of restraint dissipated. Our skin meets like it was meant to; like our story has been written in the stars for centuries, and we’re just now surrendering to our fates.
I could agonize about the extra layer of cushion I’ve acquired around my middle, the faint stretch marks on my hips, or a thousand other things. But I don’t. I can’t. Not while Dane is worshiping me with his mouth like I’ve never been worshiped before. Normal kisses don’t feel like this; like a hello and a goodbye. These are that, and everything in between.
He alternates sucks and laps of my skin, traveling between my breasts, then over them when he can’t hold back any longer. Running my hands along his abdomen, I free him from his shorts and boxer briefs in one swift move, and he stands just long enough to shake them off onto the floor before he returns to me, both silky and rough, all hard edges where I’m soft. There’s no time to appreciate him with my eyes, so I do it with my hands instead, feeling him grow beneath my fingers.
And when he’s finally sunken into me, every burst of sensation and color his body is drawing from mine is somehow enough to block out the ugly things I’ve seen.
TWENTY-ONE
The morning feels dangerous. Last night’s events seem like they took place either years or minutes ago, and I feel more vulnerable in the light of day. Like if I go anywhere, everyone who sees my face will know my world has changed. Now every action must be thought through. Everything said, guarded.
I give up control and do as Dane suggested. I make arrangements, during the drive home, for work and my missing keys. The spare car key I once owned was lost in the fire, so a locksmith will have to make me a copy. As for the lovely purpling bruise on the side of my face, I hope makeup will sufficiently cover it. I don’t want to endure the questions about my battered state. Everything else can be covered by clothing.
I woke up to Dane inspecting the bruises on my ribs with tentative fingers and that furrowed-brow expression of his.
“Will you stop looking at me like that?” I had asked him.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m something fragile you’re afraid to break.”
“Can you blame me? Look at you. I don’t understand how I didn’t hurt you last night.”
“I had other things on my mind,” I had said in the most sultry voice I could manage. He didn’t get the humor, or he didn’t care to.
Looking over at him now, I can see from the passenger seat that his teeth are clamped together, the muscle in his jaw working beneath the skin. He looks like he’s on the way to grinding his teeth down to nubs.
“What is it now?”
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he looks almost surprised to see me sitting there, noticing him. “I want to fucking kill someone,” he growls. “That’s all.”
I expected him to think that, but hearing him say the words aloud is a little shocking. I run my thumb over my ringed wrists, mesmerized by the bloom of color developing beneath the skin. They’re sore, but my shoulders are worse. The over-stretched muscles and ligaments are a screaming reminder of what happened last night every time I move, in case I should forget.
“I have a feeling that would be counterproductive. What do they say about guys like that? For every one you kill, there’re two more waiting to take his place?”
The steering wheel squeaks as he fists his hands around it. “I think that’s cockroaches.”
“Not far off, then.” When he gives me a sidelong glance, I offer him a little smile.
“Why are you so perky? You should be halfway to fucking Australia by now.”
I frown thoughtfully. “I was afraid. Now I guess I’m in shock. It doesn’t feel real.” But what a real mess I’ve gotten myself into. “What are we going to do, Dane?”
The way he lets out his breath, it’s like he’s been holding it all morning. “Guys like them, they only care that whoever is paying them gets his money. My guess is they thought you were a threat to the cash flow. That I’d bolt. But as long as I cooperate, and the money keeps coming in, any further action by them would be a threat. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve made.” He chews the inside of his cheek and looks over at me, regret lingering in his eyes.
“So you think it was Trey? He orchestrated this?”
By the looks of his white-knuckles, I’m surprised the steering wheel hasn’t snapped off the column yet. “He’s the only one who has something to lose if I skip town.”
I thumb the hem of my shirt, thinking. I was always wary of Trey, but I’d never been scared of him. Now, fear is trying to claw its way out from my insides. I’m more afraid than anything, but I won’t tell Dane that. I’m sure he has an idea how much there is at stake, how dangerous Trey can truly be, but I’ve yet to have the opportunity to measure up my opponent.
On top of all that, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep in my house again after what’s happened there, but that’s another confession I can’t wrap my head around making. Dane would probably insist I move in wi
th him or something, and that’s not how I want that conversation to go. How my mind can pull those thoughts from the flood raging in my head now, I don’t have an answer for, but I’m more confused than ever. The more we talk through things, the more questions I have.
“Who do you think could’ve told him?” I implore.
“I’ve yet to figure that out. But listen, I—”
“The mayor,” I say, cutting him off. “He and your dad looked pretty cozy at the carnival, and I remember thinking that was odd. He could’ve seen you talking to me. I don’t know why I just thought of that.”
“That doesn’t prove he had something to do with this.”
“But he’d have motive, after what happened between you two. It could make sense.”
“The people around here can be oblivious, but not about the kind of stuff my family’s been through. I doubt Grant would associate with Trey. My dad is one thing, but Trey’s more blatant in what he does. I can’t see Trey being much benefit to him, and that’s all Grant would be looking for. People who can make things happen for him. Subtly.” I can tell by Dane’s engrossed expression that he’s working through every possible option in his mind and coming up short. “Besides, us speaking to each other means nothing. They’d have to know more to be suspicious, and even then, I haven’t said a word about leaving. That ambush was sloppy, rushed. They’re panicked for some reason.”
“I just don’t know what he could’ve seen that would push him to send two of his henchmen over to ‘send you a message.’ ”
Dane’s face turns grim. “Look, Raven, what I was trying to say earlier—what I was trying to say late last night—is that it would be best if you left for a while. Call your parents, or your sister. Anyone. Get out of here until this blows over.”
I recoil, my head straining back against the headrest. I thought we’d settled this. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s the only way I can see this working—you leaving until I get things sorted out here. Once I finish the house, I should get enough from it to settle with Trey once and for all, then I can get out of here. See what life is like beyond this. It’s too much of a risk for you to stay. If anything happened to you . . .”
“What’s going to happen to me? You said it yourself: if I’m hurt, Trey doesn’t get his money.”
“No. But it would provoke me to make a stupid decision, and that’s all the incentive he needs to put me away for good. I’m way out of my league, here.”
I know it might be terribly selfish, but I’m fuming. He could’ve made this decision before my heart was so invested. Before he chipped away at my walls and turned my heart to putty.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says. I flex my fingers and stare out the window, determined not to let him see how much this is affecting me. I don’t want him to know that I’m losing it. “You know it’s best.”
I snap my head around. “I can’t just go. I have a job, Dane. A home.”
“Home? You all but hate it there. Every time I see you, it’s like you’re dying to get out. Like you’ve been trying to force a square peg into a round hole.”
“Am I the square peg, then?”
“Yes. And—”
“Then I guess you’re the round hole. So that answers my next question of where this thing is going. Glad we cleared that up.”
“Don’t—”
“I get it. Just take me home, Dane.”
I’m so mad he could suggest this, take all the things I’ve felt over the past couple months and discredit them. This is what I get for letting him in. I turn my face back toward the window so he doesn’t see the evidence of my anger. Tears sting my eyes, begging to be released.
“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he says in a low voice.
“No, you just didn’t want to be the bad guy.” It’s becoming more clear to me. Maybe I was his taste of freedom, his conquest, and now that he’s sampled it, he’s ready to move on to his next great escape. I should’ve never rested my hopes on something so fragile as a man’s heart. They’re selfish to the core, and half the time they can’t even help it.
“I don’t want this to end, either.”
“You don’t seem to be looking too hard for another solution.”
“There is no other solution!” he explodes, making me jump in my seat. The veins are protruding from his forearms, and I’ve never seen him so mad.
Tears finally crest my lashes, and I close my eyes. I think of my sister, how she’d say I told you so if she knew what was going on. My mom’s self-satisfied, smug expression if I were to return home, looking for a place to mope. They’ll assume I’m still the same rash girl, falling for boys who are bad news and not learning a damn thing from it. God. How did I let all my relationships deteriorate so much that I’d have nowhere to go when bad things happened? And at what point did the ties with my family fray beyond repair?
When Dane pulls into the same vacant driveway as last night, I grab my bag from the backseat and get out without a word. I feel more defeated than ever, and I’m ashamed that I let my anger get the best of me. If I tried hard enough, I could sift through my riotous emotions to see that Dane’s only doing what he thinks is best. But I can’t find a cell in my body that wants to be reasonable.
We approach my back door, and I go to turn the handle before Dane covers my hand with his. I snatch it back, but he just says, “Can I check it out first?”
Jesus. With everything on my mind, I was about to walk right in there, unprotected. What if someone’s waiting for me? What if we triggered something by disappearing last night? I nod once, and Dane reaches behind him and draws his pistol. I should’ve known he’d have it again, but it still catches me off guard seeing how comfortably he carries it.
“Stay close.”
I do as he says and stay a step behind him as he checks my own house for something, or someone, that doesn’t belong. It’s surreal. We comb over every nook and cranny, and when he deems the house clear, I finally relax. While Dane checks the perimeter doors and windows, I drag myself upstairs to stash my bag in my room. Once I’ve splashed water on my pallid face and taken a few moments to get a grip on everything, my thoughts become a bit clearer.
I find him waiting for me, sitting on one of the lower steps of my staircase.
“I’m sorry about earlier—I know you’re just trying to protect me. I’m think I’m still in shock, and I’m vulnerable, and nothing about this makes sense.”
He looks sideways at me, his features softening. “It may seem trivial to you now, but when I say it’s a matter of life and death, I’m not joking.”
“I got felt up by one of your brother’s henchmen as he was threatening my life. Nothing about that was trivial.”
Dane’s eyes tighten. “You have more than that to fear if you stay and this goes south.”
I slump down next to him, feeling defeated. Cornered. Alone. Once again. “Well, I can’t leave.”
“Yes you can. If it’s about money, we can figure it out.”
“It’s not about the fucking money! I have money. I can’t leave because aside from them hinting that they’ll rape and kill me, they also mentioned your name too, in case you’ve forgotten. My life isn’t the only one at stake here, and I can’t just skip town and cross my fingers, hoping that nothing bad happens to you, because if I find out that—” I have to stop myself, because my composure is slipping through my fingers. I bite back tears, fisting the fabric of my jeans to keep it together. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”
Without hesitation, and despite all my anger, Dane wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his chest. “I’d die before I let anyone out of this town to go looking for you. And I can handle this. I can look after myself.”
I sniff, wiping tears against his shirt. “You’ve been doing a pretty shitty job of it so far, Dane.”
He shakes his head, lets out a dry chuckle. “Promise me you’ll think about it?”
It takes me another couple of hours to get keys made for my car and house, and to clean myself up and get changed for work. I debated calling in sick, but I don’t want to do something that might put Trey’s dogs on my trail. Dane follows me all the way to the first big intersection in Clarksville, then heads back to my house. He’ll keep an eye on the place while I’m gone.
It’s not until I’m right at the turn-in for the dental office that I notice the police cars. There are two parked right in front of the main entrance. One cop is outside, his thumbs in his belt and his eyes already on my car. Could they have already heard something about last night? And why would they be looking for me at work?
Right, I don’t have a cellphone and I abandoned the scene of the crime. They didn’t have a way to find me.
I park my car as best I can under duress and smooth my hair, climbing out.
“Mornin’, ma’am,” the officer greets stiffly. His skin is almost as red as his hair. He seems agitated.
I hug my purse close, his posture tipping me off that there’s something very wrong. “Is everything all right?”
“Are you Raven Sutter?”
“Yes. I work here,” I respond lamely.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Do you mind stopping here for just a sec?” He motions to the stretch of brick wall beside the glass entrance doors. In favor of cooperating, I stand right where he tells me to.
The officer steps halfway through the doors and murmurs to someone inside without taking his eyes off me. He smiles tightly as he steps back out. “You and all the other hygienists have your own sets of keys, is that correct?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Are you currently in possession of those keys, Ms. Sutter?”
I instinctively go to grab them before remembering they’re missing. “No. No, I . . . I lost them, sometime last night, I think.”
“All right. I think we better head down to the station. My partner and I need to ask you a couple questions. We’re investigating a possible break-in.”
