by Finn, Emilia
“Not everyone is you, and not everyone has…” I hate, hate, hate how my voice cracks on the next word. “Sex just because they hang out. I’m a grown woman with a decent brain. I don’t need you giving me a talk about this.”
“You’re twenty-five, Ab. You are definitely grown, so I can’t and won’t tell you that you can’t do…” We’re as bad as each other. “That with a man. But I need to give you the safety talk. You need to know the power you possess. You just say no, Ab. You tell him no, and he should step away. Any decent man will back up instantly. If he doesn’t, then he deserves to die.”
I look up with fire burning in my cheeks and look into Spencer’s eyes.
He watches me as though this conversation is both infuriating and immeasurably entertaining to him. How it could be both, I have no clue.
“If he deserves to die, you know who to call, honey. I know I’m all the way over here, but it’s just a few hours’ flight. I can take care of anything, and for a lot of things, I can take care of it remotely. Say the word, and you’ll never see the guy again.”
“Stop it,” I grumble.
I’m almost embarrassed by the way my oldest brother talks, though I know Spencer and his friends don’t always work on the legitimate side of the law.
Troy’s job is… multifaceted. The kinds of facets that mean he’s not allowed to discuss his work with anyone. We have a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ relationship when it comes to his job, but I know in my heart of hearts that what he does isn’t entirely lawful, nor is it risk-free. He’s always working away, overseas more often than not, and he carries weapons the way Spencer does. On his thighs, on his hips, around his ankle, and often, in a holster that goes over his shoulder.
My oldest brother is very much military, and has been for a long time. Most military personnel do their jobs and continue on to the next assignment, but Troy’s orders come from higher up, and often in the middle of the night. He leaves without warning, and can be gone for a day or a year. He’s had assignments that span both lengths of time.
He reminds me a lot of Spencer in a way; because of his height, because of the danger he seems to carry around with him, even when he’s not being outwardly dangerous. He carries himself in a way that Spencer does, like he’s not afraid of anything.
But I know Troy’s fears. I’ve seen him cry before. Once. One single time.
“I’m going to hang up now,” I whisper. “I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m healthy. I absolutely do not need to see my doctor. Tell Beckett to fix my apartment before I get home. If I find anything out of place, I’m going to be super mad. You don’t need to control my life anymore, okay?”
“Next time, answer your phone on the first ring.”
I roll my eyes. “I was busy.”
“Pregnancy test, Abigail! Right now.”
“Oh my gosh,” I pull the phone away from my ear and crush my thumb onto the red button to hang up. “They’re insane.”
“Which brother, Priss?”
“Troy.” I run my spare hand over my face in frustration. “He’s the oldest, and thankfully, the wisest. Usually.”
I scroll to my text screen, and instead of reading the dozen other texts I have waiting for me, I open a group chat for all five of them.
Me: I’m fine, I’m safe, I’m not tied up in anyone’s basement or laid up in the hospital. Fix my dang apartment before I get back, and next time, trust that I’m okay. I am not fifteen anymore.
Me: I love you all very much.
I know the replies will come back within seconds. They’ll be shot back like bullets in an open battle range, so I leave my phone on silent and slide it into my back pocket.
“Troy is not in town right now. He works away, so for him to call was kind of a big deal.”
“Everything smoothed over now?”
Jay shoots off another round outside Spencer’s door. It’s like he stopped so I could make my call, as though he knew I needed the quiet, when in reality, he was probably just reloading and taking a break. But now he’s begun again, and if I closed my eyes, I’d swear he was standing in the same room as me, his shots are so loud.
I jump with every shot he makes, even when Spencer walks forward and wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me into his chest. I freeze up with my hands squished between us.
Hugging seems so… not Spencer. He didn’t have sex with me last night, but here I am, not kicked out the next morning, and now he’s hugging me.
He’s treating me like a lady the next day.
I have no freaking clue what to do with that information, but in my mind, it’s kind of a big deal.
“Um…”
He chuckles. “I know. Me too.”
“I probably have to go.”
“Not yet.” He presses a fast, rough kiss to the top of my head, then pulls away and snatches up a shirt from the end of the couch.
No shoes, no socks, but yes, he has his guns, he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. Pouring two steaming mugs of coffee, he leads me away again, toward the front door that leads into the firing range.
“Spencer, no!” I try to dig my heels in, but it’s useless as he pulls me through.
He doesn’t spill a single drop of his coffee, but mine sloshes over the side of my cup and burns my hand. I hiss from the pain, and stop fighting his hold. I’m spilling because I’m jerking against strength I have no hope of beating.
Spencer slows his steps when I hiss, turns back to me with a lifted brow, and when he sees me hastily wiping my hand on my jeans, he brings it up and presses his lips to my palm until I sigh.
He’s being all princely and stuff. He’s not being the crude Spencer I loved to hate at all.
“I’m sorry you burned yourself.” His eyes bore into mine. They’re so deep and pretty, and my heart is already doing that thing I knew it would. “I was trying to move you along, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and try to regulate my breathing. “I don’t really want to face your friend.”
But because the universe likes to hurt me, Jay’s shots stop, and Spence’s grin grows.
“Well, shit, Spence. I had no clue you had company over.”
“Yes, he did. He knows my car is out front.”
“Yeah, I did.” Chuckling, Jay swaggers forward and draws my eyes away from Spencer.
He’s handsome in a terrifying way, which I guess is exactly how I would describe Spencer. These men carry this air of danger with them, this air of control and competency. Even wearing scratched safety glasses and a goofy grin on his face, Jay is handsome and scary – kinda like if you gave a toddler a gun.
“I saw your car out front, flower girl.” He stops in front of us and grins. “Have a good time?”
I narrow my eyes and growl. “No. Mind your own business.”
“No?” He looks to Spencer. “She didn’t have fun. What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Mind your own business, Bishop. What are you doing here?”
“Shootin’.” His eyes continue to drop to mine. “Fifty feet, six hundred shots, five-forty-five accuracy.” A smirk pulls his lips up. “Impressed?”
“Do you want me to be? Because I know someone who can do that, but with a five-eight-five.”
Their eyes widen. Their chests stop moving.
Spencer grabs my shoulder and spins me around. “Come again?”
“What?”
“You know what he just said? Do you even know what a gun is?”
I roll my eyes. “No, I’ve never seen a gun before in my life. I have no clue what they are, despite the fact they’ve been around for more than seven hundred years. Or do you mean handguns? They were invented more than two hundred years ago. I have absolutely no clue what that metal thing is they hold in the movies.”
Jay nods. “They make the bang-bang noise.”
“Right?” I turn. “I had no clue.”
Jay turns to Spen
cer and grins so big that his face wrinkles up. “I like her.”
“You won’t like me when I tell you your five-forty-five accuracy isn’t super impressive. Like I said, I know what the bang-bangs do, and I know a better shot than you.”
His eyes narrow. “You lie, Little Red. You’re just trying to bruise me.”
It’s strange that he wanted to impress me, like it matters what I think, but in exchange, all I do is spout off my words and try to impress him back. This isn’t what I do. I much prefer not being noticed at all, but now I find myself standing inside a man’s shooting range after spending the night in his bed, and I’m arguing with his equally big, equally scary, also-holding-a-gun friend, like I think maybe they would care that I know what a gun is.
I’m such a fool, but I want them to like me. I want to be strong and capable, not the little girl that my brothers insist on tucking away from danger.
“Not trying to hurt you, but I can’t tell a lie. I know a better shot, so…”
“Kane…?” He lifts a brow and turns to Spencer. “She means Kane, right? Because nobody is a better shot than Kane.”
Spencer shrugs.
“I don’t mean Kane, though I’m certain he’s good too.” Slowly, I move around the men and wander toward the lane where Jay left his unloaded gun and a box of ammunition.
I should stop, I should go the heck home, but instead I work on firming my shaking hands as I walk, because I know both men watch me. I need to sit down and stop making a scene, but Spencer made me feel grown up and strong last night. He made me feel powerful when I’m so used to feeling weak.
I turn to the guys and smile. It’s not a smirk like Jay was wearing, and it’s not a grin like Spencer had. It’s shaky and pathetic as I set my coffee down and pick up the gun. Their eyes widen. They think I’m going to blow my foot off, no doubt, so they move forward like a couple of wranglers trying to box me in. Hands up, slow movements, wide stances, they come closer as I fumble the bullets and push one into the revolver.
I’m certain Jay normally works with an automatic handgun. He seems to be a Glock kinda guy, but the gun he left on the counter is a Colt Diamondback, with the long barrel and woodgrain handgrip. It’s heavy, but comfortable.
With shaking hands, I push one single bullet into the barrel and swallow down my nerves.
I’ve come too far. I’m going to mess it up and look like a total dummy.
“Abigail, put the pistol down, baby.”
“No, I got it.”
The guys continue to stalk closer, but I turn and aim at the target Jay has already torn apart. I swallow to lubricate my dry throat. My heart hammers in my chest, but instead of making me scared or doubtful, it heightens my senses and makes me smile.
“Just one shot, guys, then I’ll put it away.”
“This isn’t a game, Priss. If you wanna learn, I’ll teach you. I’ll tutor you personally until you have perfect aim, but going in like this just to shut up big mouth Bishop isn’t how it’s done.”
“Nope, it’s fine.”
I close one eye and poke my tongue out for concentration. Jay is closing in on my right, though he doesn’t move too fast. He doesn’t want to spook me, so he’s gentle with his movements, but I know I’m two seconds from a body tackle, so I aim and concentrate on the target, then I bring my finger to the trigger and squeeze.
The guys jump, and before I have time to inhale, the gun has been removed from my hands and disassembled, but Jay watches the target with his mouth agape. “She hit my target.” He turns to me. “Woman, you put it through my pattern.” He hurriedly yanks the Glock – I knew he was a Glock man – from his hip holster and passes it to me. “Do it again. Prove that wasn’t a lucky shot.”
“Dude! We just got the Colt from her. Why the fuck are you giving her another gun?”
“Because she’s bluffing.” He points at the target. “Again.”
Grinning and riding the adrenaline that fires through my blood, I check the magazine, though I should have known it would be full. I aim, then I fire–one, two, three, four, five.
They’re not perfect, but they hit the target and make a cute little grimace for Jay’s paper man.
“Get the fuck outta here!” Jay snatches his gun and re-holsters it. “She’s the five-eight-five.”
“No, I’m not.” I laugh and willingly step into Spencer’s side when he pulls me closer. His heart pounds beneath my ear, which is kind of cool in a way. “My brother is the five-eight-five, but there’s no way in H-E-double hockey sticks he wasn’t going to teach me.”
“Hoooo shit.” Jay watches me like I performed magic. “Her brother is a five-eight-five. Where is he?” He spins, as though I keep men tucked away in the corners. “Where’s the dude?”
“He’s away,” I laugh. “He works away.”
“Call him back, Little Red. We need to compete. There can only be one alpha in this town.”
“Who?” I look him up and down. “You?”
“Well… no. Kane. But I’m his second. And Spencer can be next.”
“Get the fuck outta here, Bishop. This is my bunker, and that was my target you were practicing on. You better recognize, asshole, or get the fuck out.”
“Stop swearing.” I slap Spencer’s stomach and walk away.
My phone hasn’t stopped vibrating since Troy and I hung up, so I pull it out while the guys watch me. More texts. More calls. More annoying brothers. I don’t call anyone back, but I go to the group chat and sigh. Mitchell literally yells in text.
Awesome.
16
Spence
“So, we kind of have a problem,” Jay whispers.
We watch Abigail walk laps around the large concrete room while she nibbles on her lip and replies to her texts. She wears wrinkled clothes and messy hair, but she’s responsive in bed and knows how to shoot.
I haven’t even fucked her yet, but I know once I do, I’ll be stepping into something new.
I never knew I could be this in trouble when it comes to a woman, and it had to be my luck that she’s high-maintenance enough to be nicknamed Miss Priss.
“Spence?”
I angle toward Jay, though my eyes remain on Abigail. “Mm?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“Sophia’s getting threats.”
That gets my attention. I turn to him and scowl. “Come again?”
“Someone has beef with me and Kane, and they’re getting noisy about it.”
“Everyone has beef with you and Kane. For fuck’s sake, what did you do this time?”
He shrugs and turns back to watch Abigail. “I don’t know. We don’t actively go out to piss people off.”
“That’s just bullshit right there,” I laugh. “You make a plan to piss people off. You execute your plan. Then you execute your man. Who has beef this time?”
“I don’t know that either,” he grumbles.
He doesn’t panic outwardly, but in my heart, I know he’s worried. He has something to lose now – Sophia – and protecting her and his brother is all he’s ever worried about. Now Kane has Jess and the babies, and Jay is feeling the pressure enough to come here and talk to me.
“I guess it could have something to do with the Infernos case,” he muses. “Maybe someone we sent away after that, or fuck knows, maybe it’s Hayes’ daughters, mad now because their daddy is dead and their bank accounts are empty. Whatever it is, it ties back to Colum. We know that for sure.”
“Colum’s dead.”
He scoffs. “I know, dipshit. I was there when he was executed. I’m just trying to think through everyone we really fucked with. It can’t be Ireland or Aristov. They’ve been taken out. It’s not Hayes himself; Kane took him out. It’s not Chadwick; he’s in maximum security, and Soph already has eyes on him.” He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, Spence. It could be anyone, and there are so many enemies, I have no clue which direction to look. Whoever he is, he’s getting clo
ser.”
I watch Abigail walk my shooting range, and find it impossible that I once considered her plain. Maybe it’s because I’ve held her ass in my hands, maybe it’s because her mouth was wrapped around my cock twelve hours ago. Or maybe it’s because I stopped pre-judging her, and instead decided to listen and appreciate her for who she is, rather than expect her to be like every other big-breasted, zero-brained bimbo I’ve ever taken to bed.
“You mean he’s getting closer geographically?” I look to him. “Or online?”
He shrugs. “Both? Angelo has been watching this motel we once stayed at. The Cherry Drop Inn… the owner annoyed Ang, acting like a creep and shit, so he’s been checking in every week and making sure the dude stops creepin’ on girls who want to be left alone. He found out someone stayed in the same room we did. Tossed the place.”
“Could be coincidence…”
He nods. “Could be. But turns out Kane was tagging almost every welcome to town sign between here and the coast. He said he was doing it for me, back when he thought I bit the dust in Infernos.”
“Okay…” I turn to him with tight brows. “Point?”
“Kane’s tags have been crossed out.”
“Coulda been anyone.”
Again, he nods. But I know it’s not because he agrees. “Could be coincidence. And it could have been brushed off as no big deal. Except, right beside Kane’s tags, this guy has been replacing them with one of his own.”
“Shit.” I study his face. “What is he writing?”
“Jericho. And coordinates.”
“Motherfuck.” I run a hand over my face and try to think. “Jericho? Shit.”
“Mmm. Straight up threat. Means he’s coming for us. How does he know that word, Spencer? That was for us. It’s an inside thing between us, so how does he know?”
I shake my head. I have no fuckin’ clue. “And the coordinates?”
“Places I was working while I was with Soph. The valley. The printing press. The clubs. Soph’s apartment in the city.” He meets my eyes. “He was watching all along. He followed me everywhere I went, and he followed Kane all the way to the beach for vacation. He was watching this whole time, and neither of us saw him.”
