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Story: Reclaimed

I was surprised to hear him so excited. Hawk had been reluctant to take the meeting at all.

“These guys are really onto something. Alcohol that gets shifters drunk is basically nonexistent. They’ve figured out how to distill alcoholic beer thatactuallygives a buzz. I know, because I was buzzed after the meeting. If we invest in this now, we’re going to make a killing. They’ve got a massive untapped market. Here, look at their documentation.”

I thumbed through the papers. Hawk was the personable one—I was the business-minded one.

The distillery’s projections looked solid. More than solid. Really, really good, in fact. We had the right amount of money to invest. And if Hawk was right about them, we were getting in at exactly the right moment.

If this went well, it could be the venture that got our clan out of the criminal world for good.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

Hawk grinned. “Hell yeah. Let’s do it.” He left me with the paperwork and a promise to call after he talked to the distillery’s guys again.

I stood and walked back to the window. Hawk hurried down the steel stairs and back to the unfinished concrete of the shop floor. His mate, Mia, leaned against the open garage door in a pair of overalls, her wavy hair tied up in a bun. Their two-year-old daughter, Bella, held her mom’s hand and jumped up and down excitedly when she saw her dad coming down the stairs. Hawk weaved through the garage, then scooped Bella up and swung her around. Though I couldn’t hear my niece’s voice in the soundproofed office, I could see her laughing loudly.

I wondered what Harley was doing.

My dragon whined as soon as her sweet face came into my memory. Harley. Her long auburn hair, her bright blue eyes, her round face and those perfect curves. She’d been the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Hell, she still was.

Maybe in a different world, we could’ve had a life like Hawk and Mia. Harley could’ve showed up to the garage like this, wearing a pair of my old shop coveralls with the top tied around her waist, and one of those thin tank tops she wore all summer. Maybe she’d drag me out of my office and take me out to the lake where we’d roll around in the grass in the late-spring afternoon.

I could still remember the sound of her laughter. Her perfect, soft lips. The smell of her skin when she was spread out on my sheets.

My dragon whined again, and I shoved the memory away before I got too wrapped up in it. The fact of the matter was that Harley was gone. I’d been dragged off to prison before I could tell her I loved her. I’d never had a chance to claim her, even though it was all my dragon had wanted.

It was for the best, though. That summer was a lifetime ago. Harley was a sweet girl, a soft girl, and she didn’t deserve to bewrapped up in this fucked-up life. Before I’d even touched her that summer, I’d known she was better off without me. Even so, neither I nor my dragon could resist her.

I hadn’t had to reject her, though. The feds made that decision for me when they locked me up. I had no way to contact her. By the time I got out seven years later, she was long gone, and to her, I was probably nothing more than a distant memory of a summer fling.

I watched Hawk take Mia’s hand in one hand and Bella’s in the other, then lead them out to his car. He’d upgraded from a motorcycle to an SUV with a car seat in the back. I honestly had never thought I’d see the day.

If this investment worked, we could finally pull out of the crime world completely.

Maybe then, my world would be safe for Harley.

It was a ridiculous idea. It’d been a decade. For all I knew, she was happily married with kids—though the thought of that made my dragon growl furiously.

Maybe it would be worth it.

Maybe I needed to track her down.

3

HARLEY

Three weeks later

“Howlong is the drive?”Dylan asked.

“Three hours, kiddo,” I said.

Dylan made a sound like a balloon deflating. As he leaned over his luggage, he kind of looked like one, too.

“Sorry about him,” I said to the agent at the car rental counter. “We’ve had a long day.”

That was an understatement. We’d rushed out of the house at five in the morning only for our flight to Syracuse to be delayed, and delayed, and delayed, then it was three hours of turbulence before we landed. Dylan was a trooper, but he was running out of steam.

“Mom, my skin feels tight all over.”

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