Lance

Bryan Drayer was charming—he had a wide, easy grin, light hazel eyes, and was built like a baseball player—tall, lean, muscled. I knew all this before I met him because I studied him, I talked to people who knew him, and I had surveillance pictures and videos.

As I walked into the 24-four-hour diner that Bryan had us meet him after three hours of dicking us around and making us drive in circles, I finally met him face to face. He sat in a booth in the corner, that easy grin on his face, sprawled across the cracked plastic booth, a hand over the back, casual as can be, like he didn’t care that I dreamed of wrapping my hands around his throat. Like he wasn’t a murderer, a drug dealer, and a gun runner. Like he wasn’t on a bulletin board in every police department in the tri-state area as they sought to pin something on him that stuck.

I didn’t touch Tara as we walked toward him, her at my side. The diner had a counter with old-fashioned metal stools, which were all empty at this time of night. The outer rim of the diner was lined with booths, with a couple of tables making up the rest of the floor. When I walked, the peeling linoleum crunched under my boots. But hey, the place smelled like coffee and grease, which was the sign of a good diner. Not that I cared. I wasn’t sure I could eat anything if I tried.

I hadn’t spoken for three hours, not once, because I didn’t trust my vocal chords. I didn’t trust my muscles not to pull Tara to me and beg her to stay. She hadn’t spoken either. She’d sat in the passenger seat while I silently fumed about Bryan’s directions. Her eyes were clear, but her body was stiff, and I ached to touch her, to talk to her. We made a deal though, and that deal meant the minute we left that bed, we ceased to exist for each other.

Bryan looked like a regular guy who worked a blue-collar job and came home to his wife and wrestled jovially with his three kids before their bedtime. Then he made sweet missionary-style love to his wife before they went to bed and did it all over again the next day.

Except that wasn’t Bryan Drayer. He’d ruled southern New Jersey’s organized crime for nearly a decade. He used his charm to reel his street soldiers in, and then showed them what was under that charm. And what was under it was ruthless and cold. He’d smile as he held a gun to your head, and laugh when he pulled the trigger.

Just the sight of Bryan’s smile sent my heartbeat into overdrive. I had to clench my fists when his gaze shifted to his sister. I braced, but then Bryan’s expression changed. It was so slight, I almost missed it, but there was a softness, an inner light—Bryan loved Tara. The dark that lurked in his eyes cleared for a brief moment as he looked at her. He rose from the booth so quickly he bumped his knee under the table—and I knew from observation that Bryan had complete control over his body at all times, so that small bit of clumsiness let me know just how eager he was to see her.

The vice around my heart squeezed tighter. He meant what he said. If I stayed in Tara’s life, he’d never let me go—never, not ever, because he would always see me as a threat to him and Tara.

He hugged her tightly and she held her body stiff for a moment before she sighed and melted into him. Yeah, she loved him too. If anything happened to Bryan, it’d kill her. I refused to force her to make a choice. I was making it for her and removing myself from her life, even if I would leave a chunk of my heart behind in her hands.

Bryan pulled back and held her at arm’s length, eyes scanning her body. “You all right?”

“That’s a loaded question, Bryan,” she murmured.

“Right,” he muttered back. He gestured to his side of the booth, indicating for her to slide in beside him, but she ignored that and slid in across from him, then looked pointedly at me. I knew I should just leave. Turn around and walk out, leave her to her brother. But her gaze held mine, and so I sat down next to her

Bryan’s eyes narrowed slightly before his jaw clenched and he settled across from us. He lifted his finger in the air, and a waitress hurried over. She wore a black shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. For the middle of the night, she looked pretty peppy, but then she was easily early twenties. It was also clear she’d managed a crush on Bryan in the short time he’d been here.

He grinned at her, clearly liking the attention. “Hey honey, I think my friends might want to order.”

“Sure thing,” she said brightly, her eyelashes fluttering at Bryan, and not bothering to look at us.

Good Christ.

“Coffee, please,” Tara said. “And do you have wheat toast?”

The waitress finally turned her attention to us. “Yep, you want some?”

“Yes please.”

“Yeppers.” She scribbled on her pad with her hip against the table near Bryan. “And for you?” She didn’t look at me.

“Coffee is all,” I said.

She turned in a flourish and strutted away like she was on a catwalk. Bryan turned to his sister with a cheeky grin.

“You’re honestly ridiculous,” Tara hissed, jerking her chin in the direction the waitress left, but there was underlying affection there. I knew what that was. I’d had it with Trent. My gut churned.

“Can’t turn it off. They just flock to me.” He leaned back against the seat and spread his arms along the back. Finally his grin lessened, his charm subdued, and he tilted his face to study me. Face, chest, all he could see, he shamelessly sized me up. I kept my hands clasped in front of me, and stared right back at him. I’d spent so long hating him, imagining the pain I’d inflict on him. The gun at the back of my waistband was a firebrand in my jeans, but I’m made a promise to Tara.

The waitress came over, poured our coffees, then scurried away when she sensed the tension.

Tara leaned over the table to whisper shout at her brother. “I’m not going to sit here while you glare at ea—”

“Tell me how his happened,” Bryan said, and his voice held a tone I didn’t like, something that turned my spine into a steel rod and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Tara heard it too, I could tell by the way she drew her chin into her neck. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me how this happened, because I’m not sure I believe this story that he didn’t know who you were. And I’m not really here for this whole star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet bullshit that you’re laying on me, like I’m the reason you can’t be with your one true love.” He said the last three words with a sneer.

Tara didn’t back down. “Bryan, you really have some balls asking to know about my love life.”

I flinched at the words love life, and so did Bryan. Still, he powered on. “No, I got balls because I’m going to confront some psycho with a gun who is fucking my sister to get close to me.”

Tara’s body went electric, and her cheeks flushed bright red.

But I’d had enough. Enough of Bryan’s presence, enough of his mouth and his words and the smirk I wanted to wipe off his face. So yeah, I was fucking done. “If I was a psycho with a gun who fucked your sister to get close to you, then you’d be dead now.” I spoke as calmly as I could. “Because here you are, right in front of me. I could take out my gun and shoot a hole in your head. The only reason I’m not doing it is because of Tara. But that’s all you’re getting out of me. You don’t get to hear how we met, or how we feel about each other because that’s ours. That’s not yours. I’ll walk away and never see Tara again, but everything that happened will still be ours. You can have her, but you don’t get to dissect us.” I leaned back in the booth and took a gulp of my coffee. The bitter brew scorched down my throat. “One last thing, I didn’t know who the fuck she was when I met her.” I made to stand then held up a finger. “No wait, that wasn’t the last thing I wanted to say. This is—fuck you.”

Bryan had gone completely still. I couldn’t read him, as he’d wiped his face to a frustratingly neutral expression, but the gears were turning in his head. He’d heard me, every word.

I glanced at Tara. She wasn’t moving, eyes on her coffee, hands circling the mug. Then she slowly lifted her head to face me. And she nodded. Just a nod, an agreement. A pact. To keep our truth to ourselves.

That meant it was time for me to go.

I stood up, tossing her keys on the table, and that was when her body jerked. “No,” she said.

I couldn’t do this with her. I didn’t have it in me to draw out the good-byes. “I need to leave, babe.”

“No, I know that, I’m saying take my keys. My car.”

I downed the rest of the coffee. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ll go with Bryan. You don’t have a way to get back. I don’t need my car. Just… take it.”

“I’m not going to take your car—”

“Take it,” she snapped.

I looked to Bryan, but he was watching his sister. He still hadn’t said another word to me, and I was okay with that.

With a flick of her finger, she sent the keys skittering across the table back to me. I slapped my hand over them before the fell off the edge. “Fine, I’ll take the car.”

“Great,” she whispered.

I turned to Bryan. “Keep her safe.”

He held my gaze, and something was working there behind them, something I couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t my concern. I was done with the Drayers. He nodded. And that was my cue.

I didn’t know what to say to Tara, because we’d already said everything we had to say. So I looked at her and said softly. “Eat some toast, get some rest, okay? Take care of yourself.”

She bit her lips. “You too. Be happy, Lance.”

I didn’t nod to that, because I wasn’t sure that was in the cards for me. Then I turned on a booted heel away from her brown eyes and walked out of the diner.

* * *

Tara

I ate my toast even though it tasted like cardboard and drank my coffee even though I’d poured three sugars in it and it still tasted like motor oil. I didn’t blame the diner. I blamed my taste buds and my stomach, which was currently staging a riot in my body.

Lance had left. Just like that. Walked out reminding me to take care of myself. Still looking out for me like he’d promised he would.

Now I was here in this diner with a waitress who was still sending my brother flirty looks.

Except Bryan wasn’t looking at her. He actually hadn’t said a word since Lance left. He alternately looked out the window then back at me. He knew I was upset, and normally he’d say something goofy to lighten the mood, but there was no lightening this. He’d ruined my life. Again. And I wished again that I didn’t love him as much as I did. As I always would.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, reaching across the table with his palm up. He wanted me to place my hand in his, so he could reel me back in. I wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said.

“I didn’t take you with me at first because I didn’t know where I’d land. I wanted to get my feet under me, make sure no one was gunning for me, then contact you again.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Well now I got a job. In Kentucky. Mechanic. Nice town, good people. You’ll like it there. And we’ll be safe. I’m legit now. I promise. No more hustling, just you and me starting over all legal and shit.”

I would have given anything to hear this before I met Lance. Now those dream words had soured before they could reach my ears. “Okay,” was all I said.

“I love you, Tara.”

Crap, he was pleading now. I glanced up to see his puppy dog eyes. The ones that never failed to make me soften. Except I wasn’t the same Tara.

“I love you too. But you need to understand I’m not getting over this in five minutes just because you say nice things to me. It might be a while. And you need to let me be upset for as long as it takes me.”

That hurt him. I could see the pain slash through his features before he covered it up.

I sighed. “Please don’t do that. Don’t make me feel guilty for not accepting your apology—”

“That’s not it,” he said swiftly, his eyes roaming to the window. “It hurts me to see you like this, and know that I’m the cause. I’m pissed at myself. Not at you.”

That was not what I expected him to say. Maybe he had changed a bit during his exile. “I—okay.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, then he smoothed his features. “You ready to go? We have a drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” I said, eager to get out of this booth that reminded me of Lance. Eager to get to the other side of mourning the loss of us.

Bryan tossed some bills on the table, sent a smile and a wink to the waitress—she nearly swooned—and then we were outside in the night air walking toward a massive white truck in the corner of the lot. He beeped the locks and grinned at me. “Like her?”

“She’s pretty.” A Dodge Ram. A massive one that probably cost a pretty penny. My brother did always like the finer things in life.

The interior was amazing—soft leather and completely clean. My brother not only liked the finer things, but he took care of the things he owned, always had. Usually, I fell under that umbrella too.

He started up the truck, and pulled out of the lot. We were on a two-lane deserted highway within a few minutes, and Bryan began to babble about the town we were driving too. He knew the population size, which grocery store had the best produce, everything. He was thorough, but his voice was putting me to sleep. I leaned against the door and blinked at the lights of an oncoming car in the distance before looking at Bryan. “I think I’m going to sleep.”

“Sure. I got a blanket in the cab if you need it.”

I was about to reach back for it when the headlights of the oncoming car crossed over the center line in front of us. “Um, wow, are they drunk?”

Bryan laid on his horn. “Fuckers are gonna hit us head-on.”

He swerved the wheel farther to the shoulder, but then the car did the funniest thing. It swerved with us.

“Bryan!” I reached out and latched a hand on his thigh. Something wasn’t right. Deep in my gut, I knew, and Bryan did too. Because he cursed and slammed on his brakes, but it wasn’t quick enough, we didn’t have enough time, because the car coming for us was playing a game of chicken they intended to win.

“Bryan!” I screamed again as the headlights barreled toward us.

Whatever Bryan yelled back was cut off by the car slamming into the front of Bryan’s truck at an angle, the impact centering on his left headlight. I tried to cover my face with my arms, but the force of the hit sent Bryan’s truck careening off the road, down the shoulder. My head slammed into the passenger side window. I yelped in pain as my skull protested and something sharp slashed into my arm.

Then the truck was rolling, side over side, down some sort of gorge. Glass shattered, metal screeched. Men shouted. As soon as the truck came to a stop, I tried to get my bearings, but I had no idea which way was up or down. I blinked and told my foggy brain to focus. The truck was on its side, Bryan closer to the ground. I was higher, held in place by my seatbelt. I glanced down to see Bryan’s face drenched in blood, but his eyes were open, lips moving. I shook my head, not sure if I couldn’t hear or if he wasn’t making any sound. Finally I heard him sputter, “Tara. You okay?”

“Bry,” I answered, but didn’t get to say anything else, because my door was wrenched open and I was hauled out of the truck.

My heart soared. Rescue? We’d be okay. It was then I looked up and into Reb’s eyes. “Reb?” I asked. How the hell was he here? Oh well, didn’t matter. He’d take care of us. “We need to get to a hospital. Bryan’s bleeding—”

Reb cut me off with a firm grip around my bicep. It hurt, but I added it to all the other hurts I was feeling. “Ouch, not so tight.”

“I have her,” he said, and it took me a moment to realize he wasn’t speaking to me. He was speaking to two other men. I blinked to see them illuminated by the headlights of yet a third car—one that hadn’t hit us. What was going on?

Reb’s deep voice rumbled against me, still talking to the two other men. “Don’t give a fuck what you do to him, just do it far away, do it clean, and hide everything.”

Wait what? I twisted in his grip. “Reb? What’s going on?”

The two other men were pulling Bryan from the wreckage of his truck, and he looked dazed, the entire right side of his face dripping with blood that gleamed in the beam of the headlights. He looked at Reb, cocked his head, and opened his mouth.

He never got to speak, because one of the men holding him punched him in the gut. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and I went wild. “What the fuck?” I tried to get out of Reb’s grasp, to run to my injured brother who was writhing on the ground. “Reb, do something!”

But Reb didn’t do anything. Not one thing. He stared down at my brother—his fucking best friend—like Bryan was dirt.

Reb spat on the ground, then turned to me. “Time to go, babe.”

“What?” I shrieked. “I’m not going anywhere with you! I’m not going anywhere without Bryan! And don’t call me babe!”

Reb made a tsk sound. “Sorry, but Bryan’s about to be very dead in about twenty minutes.”

“Reb,” Bryan coughed, rolling onto his hands and knees. He stared up at his former best friend, pain and agony etched in every line of his handsome face. “Don’t do this. I took the fall for you. left you alone. You have my territory—”

“I know about the safety deposit box,” Reb said quietly.

Bryan’s face paled, and that made my heart lurch. What was in that box?

“Keeping insurance?” Reb said in a bitter tone.

“It wasn’t like that,” Bryan tried to crawl toward Reb, but a man near him kicked him in the ribs.

“Don’t kick him!” I hollered surging forward, and Reb’s hold on me tightened. He shot me a look unlike anything I’d ever seen from him—eyes dark and glittering, mouth thinned to a cruel line. How had I ever found him handsome? Right now, he was ugly as sin. My breath stalled in my lungs.

Reb focused back on my brother. “Always kept it gentle with Tara. With you around, knew I couldn’t move fast, couldn’t be the man I wanted to be with her. But now? Now she’s mine, Bryan. Big brother won’t be around anymore to keep me in check. She’ll empty that deposit box for me—because yes, I know her name is on it—and then I’ll have her all to myself.”

“What happened to you?” Bryan shook his head and spat out a wad of dark spit. “Fuck, Reb. What are you doing? Let’s forget all this. Get me up. I’ll go back to where I was. You don’t need Tara, man. You get enough pussy. Just let us leave. I’ll pretend this never happened.”

Reb held his gaze for a while, and I thought he was caving. Bryan did too, as his face changed, a small smile curving his lips.

Then Reb jerked my arm toward a waiting truck. “Take care of him,” he ordered his men.

I went into panic mode. “Nooooo!” I screamed. I shrieked, I roared. I went limp, so Reb had to drag me, then I fought like a wildcat to get back to my brother. He was screaming my name too, even as the two men dragged him away from me, landing as many blows to his already broken body as they could.

A hand wrenched in my hair. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Reb shouted in my face. My brother yelled again. Then something crashed into the side of my head, and the world went black. The last thing I heard was Bryan’s agonized voice crying my name.