Dean

 

None of what he was doing was making sense. But Emma was in his arms, kissing him back, and when he released her hands, they wrapped around his neck, pulling him more tightly against her. He was so hard he was in pain, and if he thought he could take the edge off by spinning her around and fucking her while she gripped the sink, he would have done it. He needed the release, the chance to focus on something other than her amazing body and sparkling eyes. But she didn’t know anything about him, and goddamnit, he had rules for a reason. No matter how horny he was. Fucking a virtual stranger in Abbey’s apartment was not within the rules.

 

His hand skated down to cup her heavy tit, teasing at the nipple which was easy to locate, even with one of those horrible foam bras women were obsessed with. She groaned heavily, rolling her hips against him, and it almost ended him right there. He forced himself to back off – to let the kiss come to a natural end.

 

“I need a rain check,” he panted, adjusting himself and letting her see it. “We gotta deal with this first. And then I’ll happily give you everything you want. That work for you?”

 

Her eyes were glossy with need, and her lips were open, her breathing rough. “Can’t promise I won’t make you watch me touch myself if you put me back in that car without giving me some relief. What the hell is it about you?”

 

Dean was overwhelmed by the image of Emma in the passenger’s seat, her feet braced up on the dash, her fingers buried deep in her pussy as her head rolled with the sensations. Rules, dammit. Rules. Focus, you shit for brains.

 

“Right back at you,” he said. “Heat of the moment? I don’t know. Maybe we’ll take the edge off for both of us. Soon. But we gotta get some shit out of the way first.”

 

“Yeah,” she said. She took a moment, straightening her clothes, even though they were still neat, and smoothing her hair, which had probably never been neat in her life. “Yeah, okay.” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright, but she looked nearly respectable. Shame. “Did you find anything in there?”

 

“No. You?”

 

“No.”

 

“Who were you calling?” She was silent for a moment, and the sharp edge came back to his voice. “Was it the cops?”

 

“No!” Emma shook her head, almost looking offended by the suggestion. “I said I wouldn’t.”

 

“Then what’s going on?”

 

Her gaze flicked to the side for a moment, her teeth closed on her lower lip, and the innocent vixen expression almost did in his ragged self-control. He was doing his damnedest to maintain an exterior veneer of I-got-this, but inside, he was in an utter panic, verging on frantic.

 

Fucking her would give him a rush and a focus that could help him figure out what was going on, but at the same time, the idea that he was indulging in his own physical needs when his baby girl and the person closest to him in the world, were in danger, was a splash of cold water. That still somehow did nothing to calm his rampaging hormones.

 

“I was calling my friend,” she said. “I just… got scared, and I needed someone to tell me that I was going to be okay. You’re not a good guy, and I was afraid of being here alone with you. I wanted an out.”

 

That was the cold water he needed. He felt his expression chill down, his body going cold and unresponsive.

 

“I’m not a good guy,” he said, his voice flat.

 

Other people had been intimidated by that tone for most of his life, but it seemed to urge her on.

 

“Yes! I know what that coat of arms on your wrist means, and I don’t associate with guys like you.” She stood up straight, and he suddenly noticed how tall she was. He was over six feet, and she came right up to his eyes, just a few inches shorter than him. In flats. Impressive. He’d be able to do all kinds of filthy things with her. Dammit, stop.

 

“Guys like me,” he repeated.

 

“Yes.” The silence stretched, and she filled it, just like he’d known she would. “Guys who are into —dealing drugs, weapons, and hurting people. For money, of all the worthless things. You got Mia and her mother into trouble, and it’s probably because of some fucking turf war or because you shot someone who didn’t deserve it, or — or —” she trailed off, biting her lip again, and staring past him.

 

It was kind of funny. He was annoyed that she thought all of that about him, but he was more annoyed that she thought all of that about the Night Titans. He and Connell had put so much fucking work into rehabbing the image of the club, turning them into the guys who protected women at the clinic downtown, harassed by protesters as they got out of their cars. Or the guys who would turn up in the dark of night to beat the shit out of some scumbag diddling his girlfriend’s kids. And they were still thought of like this.

 

“I hate to break it to you,” he said, a little humor leaking back into his voice, “but we’re none of those things. We don’t sell weapons, and we only deal things that people need. We do drug runs to Canada and bring back prescriptions people can’t afford to get here. Yeah, maybe we deal a little Mary Jane to cancer patients and everyday folks who want a relaxer at the end of a twelve-hour shift, but that’s going to be legal sooner than it’s not. And honestly, I don’t know what job prospects you think there are for a guy who had an adult rap sheet before he was sixteen, but until they start giving food away for free, people still need to eat.”

 

“Yeah,” she said, quiet and slow. “That speech was out of line. I know better. I’m sorry.”

 

That blew him away. He’d expected the argument to escalate until he tossed her out the door, and then went on to the next step of his shaky plan alone. Having her acknowledge that she was being horrible was… different.

 

“What do we do next?” she asked. “Since neither of us found anything, other than that something’s wrong.”

 

“You still think we should go to the police?”

 

“You don’t,” she said. “And she’s your daughter. I’m following your lead.”

 

###

 

Emma

 

Dean stared at her, his jaw practically on his chest. It was a goofy look on him, and she liked it. She liked how he lost his edges when he was surprised and shocked. It was fantastic.

 

“How did you—” he sputtered.

 

“Know?” She tried not to laugh. “You’ve stumbled over your relationship with her twice, and when you say her name, you say it with such reverence. Honestly, it was a guess, but clearly, it was a good one.”

 

“It’s not that,” he said. “I just… I don’t talk about her, ever, if I can help it. I don’t mention Abbey. But if you figured it out — if you figured it out that fast — who else knows?”

 

She saw the connection he was making and suddenly understood a lot more of his panic. It wasn’t just theoretical that someone was using the pair against him. It was a direct threat. Something he’d been actively working against.

 

“Who else does know? For sure?”

 

“Connell. Henry – the one you called for me. He helped me get Abbey set up when she moved back to take care of… the baby. Her sister’s baby.”

 

Had he ever said this story out loud before? she wondered. “Do you trust him?”

 

He hesitated longer than she liked, given the topic. “He’s never hurt me. He’s been a father to me. I don’t think—” he sighed, rubbing at his temples with the fingers of his left hand. “If everyone I trusted were as good as I trusted them to be, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I can’t trust him until I know for sure.”

 

“Okay. How do we know for sure?”

 

He was quiet for a moment, and then something sparked in his eyes, and a cold grin spread over his face. “We’re going to go talk to Connell. But that means you have got to change.”