Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

Cage caught his friend’s gaze. “Check your phone, asshole. I called you that night. You didn’t pick up.”

Tenn paled and Cage instantly regretted saying anything. But fuck . . .

“Even if I knew that, I would’ve filmed you,” Tenn told him, and suddenly Cage felt a whole lot less guilty.

“Yeah, I know. Because you’re a bigger bastard than me.”

“I’m a bastard because I believe in romance?”

“That was romance to you? Jesus H. Christ, Tenn, you’re way more fucked up than I thought.”

“But she’s going to agree to go with you.”

“Why? Because of the hand job of love?”

“Something like that. Trust me. I know shit.”

Tenn did. He was right about a hell of a lot of things, including relationships. Excluding his own, since he never seemed to have one. Claimed it was by choice, but Cage didn’t believe that for a second.

Cage sighed. “She has to come with me. She has to stay with me.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“You and I both know what kind of life I have. She doesn’t belong with someone like me.”

“Maybe not. But the way you two look at each other . . .” Tenn shook his head and stared at him. “You’re not leaving each other anytime soon.”

If Tenn could see it, that meant it was worse than Cage had originally thought. It was bad that Tenn could see through it so easily. The visceral drag between them reached out to grab Cage by the throat when he’d first seen her. And every second thereafter, it had only gotten worse.

One phone call and his goddamned heart was gone. Done. A lifetime of no attachments to women out the window. He’d analyzed it from every angle, thought about it till he drove himself crazy and realized that the only thing for him to do was find Calla. And surrender.

And he’d realized he was in deeper than he’d thought. Because as he lay dying on that fucking freezing cold floor, Calla’s voice brought him back to life. And instead of dying he’d been comforting her.

Lying in his hospital bed, he’d practically seethed with rage and vengeance, used those emotions to get himself up and moving, much faster than the doctors wanted. But no matter how much they—and the nurses—threatened, then cajoled, then threatened again, it hadn’t stopped him. Because the idea of finishing this once and for all made him move through the pain; it was Calla that got him through.

The entire time he was healing, he heard her voice when he let the shower beat down on his sore muscles, stiff from underuse. Her voice lulled him to sleep. Finding her and getting her out of trouble became the drumbeat of his soul.

He let that thought comfort him while he mourned Bernie.

Laid down his life for me, dammit. And Calla’s too, by the sound of it. He’d heard Preacher and Tals talking about it when they thought he was asleep, how Tenn had called about a woman who’d been sent to him by Bernie. And he’d been grateful she’d been with Tenn. He didn’t want Tals or Preacher near her, not without him. He didn’t want her any more frightened than she no doubt was.

He couldn’t have that. Tenn could be scary enough, but he wouldn’t say a word about his war with the Heathens, the possible connections. Not until Cage went to him.

And so he’d been relieved Calla was with Tenn. But Tenn wasn’t him. And about a thousand times a day, he convinced himself that Calla would be better off without him, that he should just let her go off on her way. She’d disappear and he’d take care of any danger that might follow her. She’d meet a nice guy . . .

And that last part would make Cage rethink his plan every time.

Tenn had a gym set up for the guys, and during the early-morning hours it was pretty much empty. His guys were late-night partiers, and even if I’d wanted to sleep, it was off my agenda pretty much permanently, replaced by a simple grief so fresh it tended to catch me off guard at odd moments. Like my destiny had passed me by. Call it what you will, even laugh at me, but I wouldn’t care. You don’t when you connect with someone that deeply.

And now that he’s here, you’re pushing him away.

Or I’d at least tried. Cage was the first man in my life—the first person—to deliver on a promise. And I was trying desperately to see when the other shoe would drop and the promise would break.

But I’d gotten dressed in the clothes I’d arrived in, clothing I’d let sit on a chair in the bedroom for a month while I’d wallowed in borrowed sweats and T-shirts.

I’d showered too, bringing myself to a tight, quick climax that left me slack-mouthed and tingly. I’d done it like I’d known he was somehow privy to my orgasm.

And so I was sitting there in the gym, dressed and waiting, when Tenn found me, although I don’t think he was actually looking for me. His expression was troubled as he glanced at me and asked, “Are you all right?”

“You’re not.”

He laughed a little. “I didn’t pick up the fucking phone,” he said, his voice dark. “I was helping a kid and I saw it was Cage. Figured he hadn’t been in touch for months, so fuck him, I’d get back to him when I was ready. Kid was really fucked. Beaten and needed a hospital.”

The guilt that choked his voice was immense. “Tenn, you didn’t know . . .”

“I should’ve.”

“If you’d picked up, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Exactly,” I told him.

He shook his head.

“Cage doesn’t blame you.”

“Makes it worse.”

“You were helping a kid. That’s what you do.”

He glanced at me. “It was Kev—the one who’s always writing.”

I put a hand to my throat. “The night I came here . . .”

“He was in the hospital already. Safe and sound. He came here about two days before I forced you to surface.” He stared up at the ceiling for a second. “Most of the guys I deal with are from fucked-up backgrounds. Not all, but—” He shrugged. “It’s a type I know well.”

“Tenn—” I put a hand on his arm.

He drew in a breath, looked like he was making a decision, and then he began, “I got into porn when I was young. Forced into it.” He paused. “I liked it. That’s not to say the business side of it wasn’t like a second rape. But really, I started the business because of my mom. She was a whore—her word, not mine. ‘Escort’ was always too fancy for her. No one protected her. I wasn’t going to let that happen to anyone else if I could help it. I don’t expect you to understand, but the background I came from . . . let’s just say, I’d have killed to have someone provide me with a safe way to make this kind of money. They’re going to do it anyway. If they do it with me, they’ve got a shot at getting on with their lives, or to keep going in this industry. Whatever floats their boat.”

“So going into the sex business helps unfuck things for them.”

“It’s not that easy a link. It’s probably more about control.”

I could understand that, more than he knew, but I didn’t say anything. The reasons people made the choices they did were alternately fascinating and heartbreaking. “You take good care of these guys. Of me.”

“I try.”

“Who takes care of you, Tenn? Was there ever anyone special?”

He smiled. “At one point, yes.”

“And?”

“He ran into special forces and never looked back,” he admitted. “Probably better that way.”

“Or maybe he’s thinking about you the same way you are him.”

“You’re very bad for me, Calla,” Tenn warned, then sighed. “You can stay here, hon. But I think you’re cheating yourself and I’m not sure why.”

“He’s dangerous,” I blurted out.

“Best things in life usually are,” Tenn countered.

“You can keep me safe.”

“Of course I can. But the thing is, Cage already set his sights on you. Once that happens . . .” He shook his head, like I had no idea what I was in for.

“He does this with a lot of women?”

“Actually, no. Never. But I’ve seen him with a single-minded focus before—in the military, with the MC. Whatever he puts his mind to, he accomplishes. He’s not an easy man, but he’s worth it.”

He wasn’t easy, but a part of me didn’t want—didn’t trust—easy. Maybe because I’d never been either easy or able to trust.

“I know you’re angry about Cage’s promise. Promises can be a freaky thing.”

“And the fact that he was alive and didn’t tell me,” I added. “Let’s not forget that.”

“Cage and my brother kept me in blackout mode too,” he said.

“Why?”

“A couple of reasons. Because Cage is in trouble—there are people still after him. Because it was safer for you, and for me and my business—for the guys involved.”

“Because whatever Bernie and Cage were involved in, I’m involved in it too.”

He didn’t deny it. But he didn’t expound on it either, deferring to Cage to tell me. Instead he offered, “Cage saved you in more ways than one. The only thing that stopped that was you taking Bernie’s picture.”

“Why’s that? They’d recognize you?”

“Maybe. They’d definitely recognize Cage. And if they’d been smart enough to take out the back of the picture, you’d find names and latitude and longitude.”

“I should probably leave it with you, then.”

“That’d be best. I’ll make you a copy, though,” he told me. “Wait—you said leave it with me. That means . . . ?”

I nodded. I’d met a protector in Bernie and now I had a friend and protector in Tenn. But with Cage, I might be able to have it all.

* * *

I left Tenn and went out to face the music. Cage was waiting, stretched out on the couch, his big black boots on the coffee table. His still-smoldering gaze met mine, as intense as a physical touch.

“I already figured that any woman who fights a dying man’s wishes isn’t going down easy,” he said.

I felt the need to point out the obvious. “You said you weren’t going to die.”

“So you did believe some of what I told you.”

“That situation was one of a kind. Intense.”

“So it would’ve been like that with anyone?”

I crossed my arms across my chest. Shielding myself from him had already proven impossible, but I was stubborn. “Yes.”

“Bullshit. When did you start lying to yourself?”

For survival, I wanted to shout. Because I was busy mourning you, when I couldn’t finally do with you what I’d never done with anyone else.

So I didn’t answer him. He got up in one swift movement, and I backed away a step or two, but no, he wasn’t letting that happen. Mr. Tall, Dark and Commanding closed that space rapidly, leaving just enough room for me to not be completely threatened.

“Kiss me.”

“You can’t order someone to kiss you.”

“I’m not ordering someone. I’m telling you to kiss me.”

My tongue darted out to lick the corner of my lip as I considered this. Very dangerous—or it could possibly prove that this pretense of attraction was just that. “Okay, fine.”

He raised his brows in that “I’m waiting” way.

I put my mouth on him and was rewarded with a bruising, brutal kiss that devastated my nervous system. Hands down destroyed it as he’d proved I’d been lying to myself.

“Damn you,” I murmured against his mouth, and then I stopped thinking. His arms came around me, steel bands, but warm. His whole body was so damned warm.

He murmured against my cheek, “Every second I was on that goddamned concrete floor, bleeding and waiting for help, I thought about you. Every single day I was in that hospital, I thought about you.”

“You hung up.”

“I had to concentrate on not dying, Calla,” he said fiercely, then softened. “I want you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. Correction—I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I thought about him lying on the concrete floor, then in a hospital bed, clinging to life. Thinking about me. Heady stuff, and I couldn’t deny that it made me feel better about the uncertainty I’d faced so far. “You expect women to fall at your feet. I’m sure they do. It’s not happening this time.”

He leaned into me again, the scruff of his cheek brushing my ear. “It’s already happened, Calla. So fucking deal with it.”

Was it time to surrender to the inevitable? What could it hurt?

It could break your heart, baby girl.

My mother’s voice. Grams’s too. Both strong women almost done in by equally strong and dangerous men.

Although no, that wasn’t right—those men were dangerous, but not strong. Because they’d never come back to do what was right. Cage was here, despite everything, despite the threats to his own life. According to Tenn, Cage had risked it again to come make sure I was all right. How could I walk away from that?