by Devney Perry
My heart, already black and blue, wasn’t going to hold up if the punches kept coming.
I didn’t press Isaiah for an answer. His shoulders were bunched and his jaw locked. He was the king of clamming up and shutting people out. Especially his “wife.”
Bryce spotted us from a window and waved. I clutched the plate of cookies in my hands, plastered on a smile and walked toward the front door.
I loved spending time with her, and had this been a girls-only dinner, I would have looked forward to it all week. Helping her plan her wedding had been a blast. I hadn’t been in a wedding before—excluding my own—and she’d included me in every detail. I’d thrown myself into my tasks, reveling in the flowers and the dresses and the bridal magazines. I tucked ideas into the far corner of my mind in case one day, I got a real wedding too.
But tonight wasn’t only Bryce and me. How was I going to avoid Dash in his own home? Not only was he a jerk, he was arguably worse than Draven at scrutinizing our marriage.
“We’re going to have to amp it up tonight. I think Dash suspects something. Maybe kiss me a few times.”
Isaiah’s lip curled. It was faint, a ghost of a movement, but I caught it.
I tried not to take it personally.
It wasn’t like I didn’t dread kissing him too, though I feared it for a different reason. I feared how much I looked forward to those chaste kisses each morning before work. I feared the hitch of my breath and the race of my heart. I feared the way I craved more than just a brush of Isaiah’s perfect lips.
“We don’t know each other. They’re going to see right through us,” I whispered, my eyes locked on the wooden door. It was stained a dark honey, matching the beams and gables.
Their home was something out of an HGTV episode, and for a reason I didn’t have time to dissect now, that made me more nervous. We were about to step into their beautiful home and taint it with our lies.
“We’ll be fine.” Isaiah’s hand found mine, his fingers threading with my own. They were rough and calloused and long. And they were strong. I borrowed a teaspoon of their strength as the door swung open.
“Welcome!” Bryce smiled. “I’m so glad you guys are here.”
“Come on in.” Dash shook Isaiah’s hand, then reluctantly looked at me, muttering, “Hey.”
“Hi.” I handed him the plate of cookies. “These are for you.”
“Thanks.” He stared at the cookies like they were poisoned.
Asshole.
My half brother was an asshole.
Why was I here again? Before I could sprint for the car, Isaiah pulled me through the door.
Bryce took the plate from Dash’s grip, shooting him a glare, then smiled. “Oh, I love these cookies. Thank you for making them.”
“You’re welcome.” I unlaced my hand from Isaiah’s and followed Bryce to the kitchen, taking in their home as I walked, the inside as beautiful as the outside. “What can I help with?”
“Nothing. Dash is going to grill the steaks. I’ve got veggies ready and a salad. We’re all set.”
Dash and Isaiah came in behind us, Dash opening the fridge. He took out one amber bottle, twisting off the top. “Beer?”
“None for me,” Isaiah said.
“No, thanks.” I didn’t drink if I was driving. And these days, I was always driving. “If you want to have a couple beers, I’m sure we can leave your bike until tomorrow. I’ll drive home.”
He dropped his voice. “I don’t drink.”
The words were for me, but Dash heard them. He leveled me with his gaze. “You didn’t know that?”
Shit. A wife should know that her husband abstained from alcohol. And the reason why.
Three minutes into this dinner and it was already a disaster.
“Dash, knock it off,” Bryce said, then sent me an apologetic gaze.
I stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. I didn’t owe Dash an explanation and maybe he’d drop it.
His hazel gaze hardened to granite. Or maybe not.
My palms were sticky. My heart crept into my throat. And Dash didn’t so much as blink.
How could Bryce live with this guy? Why would she marry him? He was terrifying. I felt like I was on the wrong end of a flamethrower.
Dash lifted an eyebrow, reminding me that he’d asked a question—one he expected me to answer no matter what his wife said.
“No,” I choked out, holding Dash’s stare. My tan wedges were screaming my name, but I didn’t drop my gaze to the floor. “We don’t really know each other yet.”
“We’re still learning.” Isaiah threw an arm around my shoulders, the touch my excuse to look away. “Bet you guys are too. You and Bryce met a few weeks before Genevieve and me, right?”
Bryce snorted. “Very true.”
I swallowed a laugh. Isaiah might as well have told Dash to shove it.
Isaiah hadn’t commented much on Dash’s attitude toward me. I knew he was toeing a tough line as Dash’s employee, and I didn’t fault him for staying out of the drama. But I should have known he’d have my back.
I leaned into his side, looking up to mouth, “Thanks.”
“I like that we don’t know everything about one another,” Bryce said. “It’s fun to learn something new every day.”
Bryce was smiling, but there was a sharp edge to it—a silent reprimand, and Dash’s frame fell ever so slightly.
Did he feel outnumbered, three to one? Would that work in my favor? Or would he fight harder to come out on top? Dash didn’t strike me as the type to lose. My stomach knotted as I worried things were about to get worse.
“Any word from the Warriors?” Isaiah asked Dash, changing the subject.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Not a sign either.”
“I’ve been keeping up on Ashton news,” Bryce said. “I reached out to the newspaper over there to introduce myself, and they’ve been sending me their weekly editions. The only news connected to us was the Warrior’s funeral.”
Bryce used her position as co-owner of the newspaper to keep us all informed. She spent time the rest of us didn’t have reading the news from neighboring counties, and she knew more about the happenings around town than anyone else.
I’d been combining all of the information she’d collected with research of my own.
And so far, nothing had jumped out at me, but I wasn’t going to quit. I’d pulled files on every single living Tin Gypsy member and had begun collecting names for the Warriors.
It was a slow process, but I had time until Draven’s trial. If Jim had noticed that each day I spent my lunch hour glued to my screen and notebook, he hadn’t commented.
Turns out, he wasn’t smarmy at all.
He was actually the most understanding and supportive employer I’d ever had. He praised me constantly, thanking me for doing the job he was paying me to do. It had taken me weeks to realize the man was utterly sincere and nothing about his appreciation was because of Draven.
Work had become such an enjoyable part of my day that I’d stopped checking the job service website for openings at the other firms in town.
Besides, I had all the connections I needed at the moment to keep digging.
The first Warrior I’d researched had been the one from the cabin.
Weeks after our kidnapping, the authorities had released a statement on the fire, including the identity of the man who’d died in the cabin. His name was Ed Montgomery and he’d been thirty-three. Even thinking his name gave me chills.
Ed had lived in Ashton, a town about three hours away that the Arrowhead Warriors called home. Because the fire in the cabin had burned so long and so hot, the police had been forced to confirm Ed’s identity through dental records.
He hadn’t been wearing a Warrior cut that day. Our kidnapper had, but not Ed. I could still picture Ed’s clothes with extreme clarity. Faded jeans. Black hoodie. Heavy boots. I’d never forget the sound of those boots. The thud was the soundtrack to my nightmares. When I was alone, when fea
r got the better of my common sense and I let terror swim in my veins, those boots echoed with every beat of my heart.
But Ed was dead—a charred corpse. For that, I was eternally grateful.
“It’s been a month.” Isaiah’s forehead creased. “What are the chances the Warriors have ruled us out?”
“It’s a toss-up,” Dash said. “The Warriors lost a man. They might be quiet, but they won’t stop until they have justice. All we can hope is they realize it wasn’t us.”
I dropped my eyes to the hardwood floor because avoiding Dash’s gaze was the easiest way to hide our lies.
“Any updates from Jim on the case?” Bryce asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “He keeps me out of it.”
“And you should stay out of it.” Dash pointed at me with his beer bottle. “Jim’s a good lawyer. He knows what he’s doing and we can’t have anyone mess it up.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you insinuating that I’d purposefully interfere with Draven’s trial?”
“Don’t know.” He sipped his beer. “He was the reason your mother was killed. Maybe this is your vengeance.”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “I want the real killer to pay.”
That was why I was here. The only things keeping me in Clifton Forge were my promise to Isaiah and my desire to find Mom’s killer. Dash might be my relative, but he could go fuck himself. And when I did leave someday, he’d never hear from his sister again.
“Dash,” Bryce hissed. “Knock. It. Off.”
“Gotta ask the question, babe. We don’t know anything about her and she’s in a position of influence.”
“You’re being a dick,” Bryce fired back.
“It’s fine.” I stood straighter, taller, shrugging out of Isaiah’s hold. Dash needed to see I could stand on my own. “My mother was murdered. We have that in common. Would you have been satisfied if the person who murdered her got away with it?”
“No.”
“Then we have that in common too.”
He almost looked angrier, knowing that we shared some similarities. My heart raced as I waited for his reaction. Those stone-cold eyes didn’t waver. Then he shifted his attention to his wife, his anger vanishing in a blink. “Sorry.”
It was an apology to Bryce, not to me. Still, I tasted victory.
“I’ll go start the grill.” Dash kissed Bryce’s forehead, then nodded for Isaiah to follow.
When they were out of earshot, I blew out a long breath. “Wow.”
“Grr.” Bryce closed her eyes, bracing her arms on the island. “I’m so sorry, Genevieve. If you want to leave, I would totally understand.”
“But then he’d win.” And I was not letting Dash win.
“I told him to relax tonight, to stop acting like this. It’s not . . . he’s not this guy. But did he listen? No. And trust me, when you do leave later, he’s going to get one hell of an ass chewing.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
I waved it off. “I can stand my ground.”
“Yes, you can. He’ll push hard to see how hard he can push. Don’t let him win.”
“Trust me, I won’t.” I was treading carefully around Dash. He wasn’t just my brother; he was Isaiah’s boss and our landlord. I’d let him get away with the glares and the underhanded comments. But like tonight, when he crossed a line, I was no longer staying quiet.
“Can I change the subject?” I asked. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Of course.” She stepped closer.
I took a fortifying breath. “When you came to Colorado, you said you were writing a memorial for Mom. Was it a ruse? Or did you mean it?”
The color drained from her face. “That wasn’t a ruse. I know reporters who would use it as an excuse for information, but I wouldn’t have lied about that.”
“Okay.” I relaxed. “Have you written it yet?”
“Most of it. I was waiting to publish it, hoping we’d be able to prove Draven innocent first. Then I was going to ask you to read it. But we don’t have to wait. I can run it whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m not,” I confessed. “Not yet.”
“Then it’ll be there if and when you are.” She gave me a sad smile. “How about a tour?”
“Absolutely.” I sighed, hoping the awkward moments for this night were over.
We spent the next thirty minutes wandering through the house. I envied their space. I envied their doors. I envied that her living room didn’t also double as the bedroom.
Bryce and Dash’s basement was bigger than Isaiah’s apartment. He and I were living on top of one another, something most newlyweds would likely enjoy. For us, it amplified an already complicated situation.
“Will you find out if you’re having a boy or girl?” I asked as we stood in their home office. They would be converting it to a nursery and moving the office downstairs.
“We’re not sure yet. Dash wants it to be a surprise, but I like to plan. We’re battling it out at the moment.”
“I like the idea of a surprise.” I ran my hand over a soft, cream baby blanket she’d folded on the desk.
“I’m trying not to be nosy, but my curiosity is a beast of its own. Will you guys have kids someday?”
I should have anticipated Bryce’s question. I’d always heard that once you were married, people immediately began asking if kids were next. “Um . . . maybe.”
Telling Bryce no would only lead to more questions. I couldn’t exactly tell her that Isaiah and I didn’t and wouldn’t be having sex. Maybe was a safe deflection. Another half-truth.
Bryce led me from the office across the hall to the master. I refused to look into the walk-in closet for fear I’d die of envy. I should have avoided the master bathroom too.
“I’m so jealous of your double sinks. And a shower where you actually have room to bend over and shave your legs.”
She scrunched up her nose. “How’s it going at the apartment? I’ve never been up there.”
And I—awful friend that I was—hadn’t invited her in. I’d correct that mistake soon. “It’s crowded and small. Next time we’re both at the garage, come up and I’ll give you the tour. It takes twenty-three seconds if we do the long version.”
“How long do you think you’ll stay there?” she asked as we walked away from the bathroom.
“I don’t know.” My resolve broke and I glanced into her closet. “Ugh. Your closet is a dream. I wish I could fit all my clothes in one spot.”
“You guys could move. Rent something bigger.”
That would require Isaiah and me to talk about the future. We’d been so busy adjusting to this new life that neither of us brought up anything past the upcoming week. Maybe because we were both still hoping this would end, sooner rather than later.
“My condo in Denver sold,” I told Bryce as we returned to the kitchen. “I’m closing on it next week so that gives us more options.”
At the moment, I didn’t have any desire to buy property in Clifton Forge. A purchase was too permanent. But I might change my tune after another few months in the apartment.
“Options for what?” Dash asked as the guys rejoined us inside.
“A bigger place,” Bryce answered for me. “With a decent closet and bathroom.”
“But we’re not in a hurry,” I rushed to add. I didn’t want Isaiah to think I was miserable. Maybe I had been at first, but the misery had faded. Day by day, it was getting easier.
“Yeah.” Isaiah nodded. “We’re good in the apartment for now. Though I wouldn’t mind making some updates, if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine by me,” Dash said. “What are we talking about here?”
“There’s about two feet of dead space beside the closet. I was thinking of framing out some shelves. It would give us more storage space. And the whole place could use some paint.”
My heart swelled. Isaiah didn’t care about storage space or paint. But
I did. He’d change what he could about the apartment for me.
Dinner turned out to be tolerable, despite the rocky start. Dash didn’t talk to me, but the rudeness was gone. Maybe Bryce had been right. If I stood my ground, he might not like it, but he’d respect it.
Maybe the attitude had been a test to see if I’d leave.
We spent the meal talking about Clifton Forge, its stores and popular restaurants. Bryce hadn’t lived here for long, she’d only moved earlier in the year, but with her job at the paper, she’d done a better job getting out to explore.
Isaiah and I shared a look when we were each halfway through our steaks. By staying hidden in the apartment, we were missing out.
“Who wants a cookie?” Bryce asked, scanning the table of empty plates.
“Me. I only ate two earlier.” Isaiah stood, taking his plate to the kitchen. Normally, he ate five.
“I’ll get them.” Bryce followed, leaving Dash and me alone.
I glanced up from my plate, finding his stare waiting. I dismissed it, looking past his shoulder and into the living room beyond us. There were photos framed on the fireplace mantel, and I abandoned my seat and wandered over.
The largest photo was of Bryce and Dash from the wedding. They were smashing cake into each other’s faces. The next photo was of Bryce’s parents. The one after that was a photo of Dash and Nick standing beside two motorcycles with their arms around each other’s backs. Nick had a beard; otherwise he and Dash looked alike.
They both resembled Draven, and we all had his dark brown hair.
I’d met Nick at the wedding. I’d been prepared for another angry, resentful brother, but Nick had been a pleasant surprise. He’d been kind as he’d introduced himself, shaking my hand. His wife, Emmeline, had hugged me without hesitation and introduced me to their two adorable children as Aunt Genevieve.
Nick hadn’t spent much time with me since he’d been Dash’s best man, but he’d escorted me down the aisle, and as the two of us stood for Bryce and Dash, he’d given me a genuine smile or wink whenever I met his gaze.
Being tied to the Slater family wasn’t all bad.
When I came to the next picture, I froze. It was an older photo, the colors muted and the print quality dull. I’d never seen this woman’s face before but she was no stranger.
