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“Handle it, and I’ll consider it square,” Michel said.

“And the next shipment?” Striker asked.

“Delayed. But it’s coming. Same price, same expectations, all of that.”

“Good,” I said. “Thank you.” Michel didn’t have to provide us with more weapons, and he was only doing so because of our longstanding relationship. If he hadn’t, we’d really be screwed—we had a few more orders to fulfill before we phased out our side of the gunrunning business.

“Handle Sean before you exit this business,” Michel said. “If you don’t, I’ll be stuck with him, and I won’t have any other option but to involve the feds. It’s too much for one poor middleman to handle.”

I exhaled hard through my nose. “That a threat?”

“No, sir,” Michel said. “It’s honesty. I’m informing you what steps I will take if this isn’t handled. How those steps will affect you is none of my concern.”

Michel surely had enough dirt on me to get me locked up for life. He wouldn’t be able to do so without risking his own freedom as well, but it was still a real possibility.

“It’ll be handled,” I said.

We worked out the details of the upcoming shipment, then Striker and I left. Striker was in good spirits, clearly pleased that we wouldn’t have to pay cash to replace the stolen goods. My mood, however, was lower, and my dragon was on edge.

As we drove back to Lakeview, a sedan with a tinted windshield pulled out of a narrow side road and followed. There wasn’t much out in this part of the state, save for old trailers, farms, and Michel’s furniture warehouse. There definitely weren’t a lot of cars as nice as the one behind us.

“Sean’s playing a dangerous game,” Striker said. “You think he expects to get out of this unscathed?”

“No. I think he’s trying to get a rise out of us.”

Striker huffed. “Well, it’s working.”

“Mm.” I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the car behind us. Just as I was about to say something, the sedan turned onto a side road and drove out of sight.

I relaxed back into the seat. “I had hoped Sean would come to his senses, or at least leave us alone. But he’s been getting worse.”

“He won’t stop,” Striker said. “Now that he’s had success once, he’s going to keep hitting Michel. Maybe even other suppliers we’ve used. He’s going to try to undermine us from the edges.”

“That won’t happen,” I said coolly. “If Sean is determined to be the enemy, I’ll treat him like one.”

Striker glanced at me. “Even if it means killing him?”

“He’s had enough chances. If we want to get out of this business for good, we can’t let Sean drag us back in.” And if I wanted Dylan and Harley to return to Lakeview, I had to make sure they wouldn’t be dragged into harm’s way. If Sean knew about them, he wouldn’t see family—he’d see an opportunity to get back at me.

My dragon growled, his anger matching my own. Blood was meant to connect dragons, but Sean had gone too far. We’d do anything to protect our mate. On that, my dragon and I agreed.

11

HARLEY

Three days passed in remarkable peace. I knew I was here for Dylan, but being at Stephan’s house felt like being on vacation. My room was unbelievably luxurious, like I was staying in a five-star hotel resort. The bed was huge with a plush, dark bedspread. Thick rugs were layered over the hardwood, and the en suite was all sleek, white marble. Just as he’d promised, Stephan gave me space. He was in and out for work, but when he was home, he was in the yard with Dylan practicing partial shifting, throwing a football around, or wading in the cool water of the lake. I stocked the kitchen with my preferred groceries and spent my days cooking and catching up on my emails from work.

I hadn’t seen my mother since we left her place. She hadn’t called, either. By this point, I was used to her silent treatment. I hadn’t realized how much her judgment was weighing on me until I was out of her house.

The only real challenge was being around Stephan so much. That first morning, he’d come downstairs in a skintight, thin tank top that showed off his broad, tattooed chest and strong arms, and those gray sweatpants that left literallynothingto theimagination. Being in his house meant being around Stephan at his most casual, his most comfortable. I was like a moth bumping into lamps. He was so magnetic, I kept drifting toward him when I wasn’t paying attention.

It was easier when he was with Dylan. Knowing Dylan was safe and happy with Stephan gave me a reprieve from my own distracting desire.

The sun was low in the sky as I closed my laptop. I stood from the dining room table and stretched my arms over my head, then turned toward the big glass windows. In the backyard, Dylan was running faster than I’d ever seen him move, chasing the football as Stephan threw it in a high arc. The late afternoon sun glinted off Dylan’s onyx claws. He’d gotten more comfortable with partial shifting. But why the heck was he trying to catch a football with them out? Stephan was going to go through a lot of footballs that way…

I padded on bare feet into the kitchen. I had gotten used to spending my days in comfy shorts and big sweatshirts, the perfect combination for the almost-warm days. I began to put together dinner: roast chicken, some stir-fried vegetables, and a salad.

It was nice cooking in this big kitchen with its fancy appliances. It was nice cooking for both DylanandStephan.