by Cara Dee
“I didn’t wanna teach you this way,” Darius told him. “I wanna get you through the basics and—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Gray attacked once more. Fucking hockey tactics—he went with a full-body check, something that took energy and would tire him out in no time. Darius blocked him with an open hand, connecting the heel of his palm with Gray’s forehead.
“Learn that move and aim for the chin.” He sidestepped when Gray snarled and charged again. “You’re gonna exhaust yourself.”
“Fuck you!” Gray swung a fist.
Darius dodged it and delivered a low-force uppercut to Gray’s stomach, just enough to let him feel it.
Panting and wheezing, Gray bent over and rested his hands on his knees. He heaved with racking sobs and breaths that bordered on hyperventilating.
Enough is enough.
They’d caused enough damage for one day. Darius swallowed hard and scrubbed at his face. His tee clung to his skin uncomfortably, soaked from the rain and scratchy with sand.
“I wanna help you, baby—”
“Fuck off, Darius,” Gray croaked and stormed off.
Darius cursed.
That evening, Darius’s room turned into a pity party for one. He ordered a pizza from room service and ate in front of the flat screen, though he probably watched his phone more than the movie. He’d sent Gray half a dozen texts and received nothing in return.
He hadn’t lost his composure on the beach even once. Despite that, he’d let Gray set the pace. He’d given in when he should’ve walked away.
Darius was willing to bet Gray felt even weaker now.
It had probably been five minutes since he’d checked the trackers, so he reached for his phone again and opened the app. Still no change. Gray was at the hotel.
Was it gonna be another sleepless night?
He fired off a final text.
I let things go too far. I’m sorry, and I hope I’ll see you tonight. Last night was shit without you.
After pressing send, he tossed the phone on the table and leaned back on the couch. Exhausted didn’t come close to describing how he felt. Bone-weary, raw…and sadness was welling up. He fucking hated that. It was the one emotion he couldn’t use or apply to anything. He couldn’t turn it into a weapon or get motivated by it like he could with anger. Sadness, longing, and grief—three useless, crippling feelings.
Darius dozed off there on the couch, still wrapped in a towel from his shower earlier. Fuzzy images of Gray on the beach took turns twisting a knife in his chest. Loneliness was a foreign feeling, but either he saw it in Gray’s gaze, or he felt it. He wasn’t sure. He frowned with an apology on the tip of his tongue. He’d gone too far. Fuck.
A ghosting touch warmed Darius’s cheek, and he gripped at it as his eyes flashed open.
Gray.
Gray. It was Gray.
“You came,” Darius murmured drowsily.
“I don’t wanna talk,” Gray whispered. “Come.”
Darius swallowed dryly and let Gray drag him up from the couch. And guide him into the bedroom.
Gray shed his sweats before removing Darius’s towel. “Under the covers.”
That worked. Although, it was difficult tearing his gaze away from Gray. Christ, it was bizarre the effect his knucklehead had, how he single-handedly fought off the bad shit going on in Darius’s head. He landed in the middle of the bed, and Gray followed, cuddling closer until he was burrowed tightly against Darius’s chest. The sadness vaporized. The longing faded. The grief fled.
“Hold me tighter,” Gray mumbled.
More than happy to comply, Darius pulled the covers over them and snuck his leg between Gray’s. Gray took the hint and hiked his knee over Darius’s hip.
“Much better,” Darius yawned.
“Mmm… Night, Dare.”
“Goodnight, knucklehead.”
“Fuck…no.” Darius moved away from the intruding sunlight that was gaining ground on the mattress. He must’ve forgotten to close the blinds last night.
He frowned into the pillow and scratched an itch on his bicep.
Dragging a tired arm along the sheets, he blindly reached for—wait. He’d never woken up this way before. It was dark when he rose, because Gray had to sneak back into his family’s suite, and Darius rarely went back to sleep after.
He lifted his head and blinked past the sleep in his eyes. No wonder Gray wasn’t here; he had to have left without waking Darius.
Or maybe he ran.
Well, that worked faster than any alarm clock. Darius bolted out of bed and scanned the room, waiting for his vision to clear. Shit. There. He narrowed his eyes and felt his heart thump wildly in his rib cage. Rounding the bed, he picked up a piece of paper—a note. A fucking note.
Dare,
If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past few weeks, it’s that I don’t have to be stuck on an island to be stranded. The world has become a strange place, and I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. I carry this anger inside of me, and it’s turning me into someone I don’t want my family to see.
You’ve come to mean more to me than I ever could’ve expected, and I don’t want you to see that side of me either. Before I figure out how to deal with those changes, I want to be alone. I have some business to tend to as well, and, sorrynotsorry, but I went behind your back and called your sister for help. She’s badass.
I’m sorry. I know you’re probably pissed. I just don’t want to be your problem anymore. You’ve helped me so much, and you shouldn’t have felt the need to apologize about last night. I pushed you, and it was unfair of me. I’m sorry about that.
Until we see each other again, be well, Dare. You’re still my hero.
—Gray
Darius blew out a heavy breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to punch a wall, sit down and mope, scream, and kill someone. Resignation held the white-hot rage at bay though, and he gave himself ten seconds to digest what he’d expected for weeks already.
“Sorry, but that’s not how this works, Gray,” he muttered to himself and grabbed a new pair of jeans. Then a wife-beater and a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up. Next, he left his hotel room and stalked toward the Nolans’ suite.
He kept himself from overthinking for fear he’d throw a fucking fit. It would be of no use. He needed to stay in motion and make shit happen.
Get all the info. Call Squeezy. Call Agent Donahue. Track down Gray.
Chloe opened the door, looking slightly worried. “Oh hey, Darius. I’m on my way down to see if Gray’s by the pool—”
“He’s not. He skipped town.” Darius entered without an invitation. “He wants to be alone.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Chloe’s voice broke on the first word, and as Darius turned to face her again, he could see that she would have no issue going straight to hysterics. Possibly because it was her worst nightmare after everything.
Darius forced himself to be patient, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve seen it comi—”
“What, why? How? Why would he—” She cut herself off and wiped at her cheeks. “Why?”
“Because he feels distanced from the world. He feels alone. Trust me, I’ve been there.” He looked over to find the twins standing in a doorway with unreadable expressions. Understandable. They were probably angry. Anger was as easy as running. “I gotta know if he left a note.” Releasing Chloe, he started toward the two bedrooms. “Does he have his driver’s license?”
“Um—yes. Yes, we brought it. It was recovered with his phone where he was taken.” Chloe sniffled and followed him. “Here, this room. He shared with Gage.”
Darius threw a glance at the unmade pullout sofa in the living room area where Chloe must’ve slept. Then he ducked into the empty bedroom, his stare landing on some clothes on the floor before he saw the nightstand. There was a note attached to the lamp.
Mom,
I don’t want you to worry about me. I
’ll come home soon, but I need to be alone first. I need some time to think. Please don’t worry. I also made a promise to a friend that I intend to keep. His name was Jonas. You would’ve liked him.
I love you all. See you soon.
—Gray
Darius rubbed his jaw and racked his brain. Adrenaline pumped into his veins. Jonas…Jonas, Jonas, Jonas. What promise could it have been?
It hit like a brick. “Shit.” Jonas had a kid brother. Seven or eight years old. If it was a promise made right before Jonas died, it would involve the brother, Darius was sure of it.
As Chloe grabbed the note from him with a trembling hand, Darius retrieved his phone to check the app.
The knucklehead was heading up the I-95 toward Jacksonville and Savannah.
“Wh—oh my God, where’s he going?” Chloe whimpered.
Darius scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled.
“Philadelphia.”
And so was Darius.
Gray and Darius are back in Deserted
“You’re not suggesting we wait for the agents, right? We have a chance to actually save Jackie, Dare. No way in hell I’m blowing that.”
More from Cara Dee
In Camassia Cove, everyone has a story to share
Abel & Madigan
Chloe & Aiden
Willow
Lincoln & Adeline
…along with a crossover from the Touch Series, Ryan & Angel & Greg
Cara freely admits she’s addicted to revisiting the men and women who yammer in her head, and several of her characters cross over in other titles. If you enjoyed this book, you might like the following.
Power Play (M/M) Abel & Madigan. A sweet, angsty Daddy kink novel that deals with mental health disorders and the love between a hotheaded hockey player who struggles with his bipolar disorder, and an older, dominant tattoo artist. Gray is a secondary character in this book, and it takes place right before Auctioned. We also meet Darius briefly in Power Play.
Inappropriately Yours (M/F) Isla & Jack, Aiden & Chloe. Two romances in one book. Isla Roe publishes her first novel under the name her father has made famous for his own novels, but it doesn’t work out as well for her. More like, it crashes and burns. Her father sends her to Washington and his college friend to get help with her writing. In the end, she finds a lot more than advice, and Aiden Roe, Isla’s dad, makes a trip up to Camassia to see what’s going on. That’s where he runs in to his childhood crush, innkeeper and single mother of four rambunctious boys, Chloe Nolan. This is the first glimpse we get of Gray, Chloe’s son.
Touch: The Complete Series (M/F, M/M/F) Everyone’s getting their kink on in San Francisco. This is the complete series, consisting of seven novellas and novels, several outtakes and future takes, about men and women finding their way in BDSM. Heavy on Daddykink and other fetishes. In one of the novellas, we meet Greg Cooper, a jaded masochist who falls for the sadistic Dom Ryan Quinn and his much younger, equally sadistic wife, the switch, the baby girl, Angel Quinn. Ryan and Angel may strike hard, but their hearts are warm and open, a combination Greg finds impossible to resist.
Check out Cara’s entire collection at www.caradeewrites.com, and don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter so you don’t miss any new releases, updates on book signings, free outtakes, giveaways, and much more.
About Cara
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular.
The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
~Cara.
