by Devney Perry
I snuck past the kitchen, casting one last look over my shoulder to make sure Emmett hadn’t woken up. Then I poked my head into the first room I passed. It was a guest bedroom, its closet mostly empty. The bed was made and nothing was hidden beneath its frame. The drawers of the nightstand were also bare.
The laundry room was next. The cupboards above the washing machine and dryer were full of detergents and softeners. Emmett had an iron and a bottle of starch that I suspected got little use. There was a pack of light bulbs and a stash of cleaning supplies.
I hadn’t expected to find anything in plain sight. Emmett wouldn’t keep incriminating evidence in the tall, narrow closet that held his vacuum. So I felt my way along the interior walls to make sure there wasn’t a compartment or something hidden.
My father had kept the videos and recordings he’d made of the Warriors in a lockbox that he’d stowed beneath his refrigerator. I had to give the FBI credit. Their search of Dad’s home had been nothing if not thorough.
I moved silently toward the next door in the hall, one that opened to a black staircase. I gripped the railing tight, using my toes to feel from one step to the next, too afraid to turn on the light.
When I finally reached the bottom, I breathed, glad it was a daylight basement because moonlight streamed in through the sliding glass door that opened to the yard. The space was huge, running the length and the width of the house.
Emmett had a pool table in the main room. I poked at the pockets and green felt, feeling my way along the edges for anything that might open up. I did the same with the foosball table against the wall. Then I scoured the large entertainment center and sectional positioned on the other end of the space.
He hadn’t once brought me down here to watch TV, even though this was clearly the better couch and television. We’d always stayed upstairs and watched the TV above the living room fireplace. Why? Was there something down here he didn’t want me to see?
Another room had been set up as a home gym. It was far enough from the windows that the room was dark, so I’d have to check it later. There was one more guest bedroom with an en suite bathroom. And the last door opened to a storage room. Its shelves were organized and crowded with plastic tubs.
I’d have to go through them later too. Tonight was simply about mapping where I needed to spend more time.
Closing the storage room door behind me, careful so it didn’t make a thud, I darted up the stairs. At the landing, I went to the last room.
Bingo. The office. A wide executive desk sat in the center of the room, its surface crowded with laptops and monitors. A gun safe was in the corner beside a window and a bookshelf. I’d bet money it had more than guns inside.
Before I worried about how to crack it open, I’d start with the laptops. Emmett wouldn’t leave anything about the Tin Gypsies in the open, but there might be something on one of those laptops to point me in the right direction.
Worrying I’d been gone too long, I backed away from the office and turned, only to run face-first into a wall of muscle.
I gasped as Emmett’s hands came to my arms, steadying my feet. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
“What are you doing?”
I dropped my forehead to his chest, my heart pounding in my ears. “I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother you, so I came down the hall to find a quiet corner to read on my phone.”
The lie tasted like acid on my tongue, but if Emmett suspected anything, he didn’t let on. He simply wrapped me in his arms, running his hands up and down my spine.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed, hoping my breaths would level out. “Sometimes I have a hard time shutting off my brain.”
“Yeah, I get that sometimes too.”
“I saw this”—I motioned toward the office behind me—“and started wondering what you did for work.”
“I’m a mechanic,” he said. “But I have some rental properties and investments around town.”
“Ah. Hence the office.”
He nodded, taking my hand and leading me toward the other end of the house. He pulled with enough insistence either he was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep, or he didn’t want me in his office.
“Why a mechanic?” I asked, hoping my curiosity wouldn’t trigger any alarm bells.
“I like to build. I like to take things apart and put them back together. My dad was the same way. He taught me about cars and bikes when I was young.”
We made it past the living room and his pace slowed. A yawn stretched his handsome face.
“Sorry I woke you up, Ace. I hope you don’t mind that I went down the hall. I was going to leave but you set the alarm and I didn’t want to open a door and have it go off.”
“No worries. And I’m glad you didn’t leave.” He let go of my hand to put an arm around my shoulders, hauling me into his side as we returned to his bedroom.
I climbed into bed and curled into his arms. The dusting of chest hair over his sternum tickled my chin and I ran a hand up his stomach, letting my fingers thread through the coarse strands.
“Does it bother you that you don’t know my name?” My question streamed past my lips before I could shove it aside. The moment it was out, I realized how desperately I wanted the answer. Because if I hadn’t known his real name, it would have driven me insane.
“Yes.”
“It’s Nova,” I whispered, tipping up my chin to meet his gaze.
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He chuckled and kissed my hair.
It was safe for him to call me Nova because Nova Talbot didn’t exist. June Johnson on the other hand . . . that was the identity he could never know existed. It was the reason my car had fake license plates.
Looking those up would lead to a dead end, but a dead end would raise suspicion. At this point, I was fairly sure Emmett hadn’t run my plates. Otherwise he would act differently toward me, right?
Right. There was no way he knew I was June Johnson, daughter of January Johnson. June’s father was unknown. But June Johnson had a younger brother, TJ Johnson.
And TJ, even for a brief time, years and years ago, had been an Arrowhead Warrior. That was the link. That was the fact he could never discover.
It was better to tell him my name was Nova. Maybe it would even help me keep his trust.
“Want to know my name?” he asked.
I shook my head, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “No. I like calling you Ace.”
Chapter Ten
Emmett
My own bed is boring.
I chuckled at Nova’s text, quickly typing out a reply. Told you that you should have stayed in mine.
Her reply was instant. Tonight. Six.
I’ll be waiting.
Last night she’d opted to stay at her own place because she’d had an early meeting this morning. What type of meeting? No clue. I’d shared some personal details about my life, but she was as closed off as ever.
And it was really starting to fucking bother me.
In the past two weeks, we’d gotten into a routine. She’d come over each night. We’d have dinner. Over the meal, we’d talk about nothing and everything, the conversation interesting and engaging.
I was still reading the book of Dad’s and last night I’d told Nova what it was about. The night before, we’d talked politics. The night before that, I’d told her about my businesses around town and why I’d chosen to invest locally.
Though I could probably make just as good of a return putting my money in the stock market—I had a chunk there too—I liked being involved in Clifton Forge businesses. Nova had seemed impressed too.
I was a silent partner with a personal trainer who’d started his own gym. I went in once or twice a week to check in even though I mostly worked out at my home gym. A buddy of mine who owned a lawn service company had wanted to expand into landscape design, not just mowing and sprinklers, and rather than take a lo
an out from the bank, I’d bought into his business. Then there were my rentals.
Nova had peppered me with intelligent questions, wanting to know more and what I was going to invest in next and my capital strategy. The interest she took in my life was flattering. And it was a damn shame I couldn’t show her the same.
Still, what we had was working for us. There was no drama. Dash, Isaiah, Leo, Shaw, Luke . . . my friends had all started their relationships with their women with a mess of drama. Not that Nova would be around long-term. She had no intention of starting a committed relationship and neither did I.
But I could admit to myself that the idea had some appeal. It was nice to have someone in my home, my bed, each night.
Too bad she didn’t even want to know my name.
The anonymity had been fine at first. Now it was beginning to fester.
“Hey, man.” Leo came up to my side. He’d been in the paint booth for hours this morning. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing. Just reading a text from Mom,” I lied, tucking my phone away.
Maybe someday I’d tell my friends about her. Maybe not. If we weren’t going anywhere, why share? The guys would only have questions. Their wives would too.
And despite the secrecy, Nova and I had a good thing going. I didn’t need anyone butting in and screwing it up. That, and I’d feel like a damn fool if they asked a question—what does she do for a living, how old is she, where’d she grow up—and I couldn’t give an answer.
I mean . . . I could. I’d just have to run her plates. It was as tempting as the woman herself.
“Want to take off for lunch today?” Leo asked. “Cass and I were thinking of heading to the diner with Seraphina in about an hour. Try to beat the lunch rush.”
“I’m down. That’ll give me time to put the new fender on the Stingray.”
“Want some help? I’m done in the booth for today.”
“That’d be great.” The two of us returned to work and as soon as the fender was on, he went to the apartment upstairs to collect his wife and daughter while I washed up at the shop’s sink.
Lunch with Leo, Cass and Seraphina would normally have been the highlight of my day, but as I sat across a booth from them and watched Leo with his family, a twinge of jealousy pricked at my skin.
Leo and Cass knew each other. Past, present and future. They trusted each other.
Nova’s secrets shouldn’t bother me, because we weren’t headed in the same direction. But yeah, it was bothering me. Maybe it was time to start digging into Nova’s life and figure out what kind of woman would want our kind of relationship.
I’d hacked countless people, but the idea of doing that to Nova felt . . . wrong. Invasive. I’d betray her trust the minute I opened my laptop.
Every morning when I went to my office and checked through my alerts on Warriors and their families, I contemplated a quick search on Nova. So far I’d been able to resist. Except the longer she held out, the harder it became to leave the questions unanswered.
The afternoon dragged once we returned to the shop. The pit in my stomach made it hard to concentrate.
Was this temptation just because of my own trust issues? Dad had taught me early on to be wary of people. Probably from his experience with the club. He had only ever really trusted Mom and the Tin Gypsies.
I’d heeded that advice and kept my business private from anyone beyond my close circle. Relationships had never been a priority in my early twenties, and after Dad had died, after I’d seen the toll it had taken on Mom, I hadn’t been in a place for a steady woman.
Sex was easy. There were always women at The Betsy and they knew the score when we hooked up. Casual worked for me. It fit into my lifestyle.
So why was this thing with Nova bothering me so much? I had the best of it all. An intelligent, witty woman who liked to fuck. We weren’t in a relationship. This was mind-blowing, casual sex. That was it.
If she didn’t need my name to let me inside her body, that was her choice.
“You okay?” Leo asked around five thirty as we finished up for the day.
“All good.”
“You’ve seem distracted since lunch.”
I waved it off. “It’s nothing.”
“Everything okay with your mom?”
“Yeah, man. She’s good.”
He gave me a nod. “I’m taking off. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Leo was the last to leave today. Dash had changed his work schedule since school had started so he and Bryce could both pick Xander up from kindergarten. He’d left around three. Isaiah was out before five to meet Genevieve at her law office. Presley had locked up the office after Sawyer and Tyler had clocked out at five.
Now there were no vehicles left in the lot. I locked up the garage and padlocked the gates behind me before heading out on my bike, doing my best to shake off the mood from the day. It would be better once Nova came over. We’d eat. We’d have sex. I’d take what I needed from her while she did the same from me.
And since tomorrow was Friday, maybe I’d tell her I was busy. I’d go to The Betsy and see what was happening. Not to pick up another woman, but because I hadn’t been there in a month, not since the last time I’d seen Nova there. Maybe what I needed was a normal night at the bar and some distance from the woman tormenting my thoughts.
The fall air bit through my long-sleeved T-shirt as I rode for home. Nova and I hadn’t been on a ride lately because it was getting colder. Maybe tomorrow I’d take a long ride before going to the bar. It would do me some good to hit the road for a few hours. Sooner rather than later, the bike would be in the garage, and I’d be driving my truck through the winter.
By the first snowfall, maybe Nova and I would have fizzled out too.
The rumble of my Harley echoed off the walls as I pulled into my garage. I went inside, tossed my keys on the kitchen counter and headed for the office. I had a little time before Nova showed up and I wanted to check a few emails.
The PI in South Carolina had sent a follow-up while I’d been at the shop earlier. I’d glanced at his summary but hadn’t dug in. I logged on to my laptop and spent thirty minutes reading his report and looking at photos.
Tucker Talbot’s ex-wife was the main focus of his summary. She’d started dating a man since our PI had been tailing her. He’d been thorough, checking out the guy just in case it was a tie to Montana. But the boyfriend was clean, and besides a speeding ticket from three years ago, he was just a normal guy who had an ex-wife of his own and rented the occasional porno.
There was nothing new on either of Tucker’s daughters. Both women had inherited their mother’s chestnut hair, but they bore a marked resemblance to Tucker in the shape of their faces and the set of their noses and dark eyes.
The PI we’d hired wasn’t cheap, but I shot him a note, asking him to stay with the ex and daughters. Peace of mind, priceless.
I logged off my laptop and shut it down completely, then went to the safe in the corner, opening it up and taking out some cash.
Back in the days of the club, cash had flowed like a mountain stream brimming with melting snow. Running protection runs on drug routes and betting thousands on underground fights weren’t legal, but they had been lucrative. For the most part, I’d saved the majority of mine, whereas most of the brothers my age had blown through their envelopes of cash, spending it on booze and women and bikes. Sometimes drugs.
After Dad had died, I’d had my own dark days when I’d longed for any substance that might take the pain away. Alcohol had been my go-to. Weed an easy score. Cocaine on the worst days.
Not a proud time in my life, but I’d been lucky. Draven had seen me spiraling and he’d stepped in. He’d been heartbroken after Dad’s death too, but he’d hit me with the truth—literally, he’d punched me and broken my nose—and told me Dad would have been ashamed. He’d reminded me that I had a mother who didn’t need to watch her son lose himself to grief.
For Mom, I�
��d cut the drugs immediately, though the drinking had taken some time.
Even through all of that, I’d been flush with cash. What I hadn’t spent, I’d saved, just like my father had taught me.
Dash and Leo had done the same. We were still living off the cash we’d earned from the club, though mine had dwindled since I’d been aggressive with my investments. Still, we didn’t make lavish purchases. We didn’t flaunt it. Food, clothes, gas. It all added up and allowed us to spend our salaries on other expenses.
Not only did I have my own stash here at home, but Mom had one in her basement—Dad’s money.
I took out a thousand bucks and relocked the safe, heading upstairs and to the kitchen. I took out everything I’d need for dinner, chopping a tomato and a head of lettuce while a pound of ground beef simmered in the spices I’d added. The scents of cumin, chili pepper and paprika had filled the room when the front door opened and a familiar click of heels echoed down the hallway.
“Hi, Ace.” Nova came up behind me at the counter, sliding her hands around my waist.
“Emmett. My name is Emmett.”
Her hands stilled.
Maybe my mood from earlier wasn’t as gone as I’d thought. But I wasn’t going to apologize either. She could know my fucking name.
Her body stood as stiff as the knife in my hand hovering over the cutting board. Then, the tension in her body vanished. She leaned into me, whispering against my spine, “Emmett.”
Fuck, I liked hearing my name from those lips.
I set the knife down and twisted, taking her mouth. I swept inside, savoring her taste, then broke away.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, her cheeks flushed from the kiss.
“Tacos,” I answered.
“How was your day?” She moved to my side and hoisted herself up on the counter.
“Meh. You?”
“Fine.”
“What did you do?”
“Worked.”
“And what exactly did you work on?” Yeah, I was fishing for information and I might as well be obvious about it.
