Page 9

Emmy

I sat at my desk, fingers poised over my keyboard, but I hadn’t typed a damn thing in the last five minutes. My concentration was shot, my mind refusing to cooperate. My entire body still hummed from his touch. I sniffed my blouse—I could still smell him on me.

And why wouldn’t I?

Austin was there. He’d made it clear that morning that I wasn’t going anywhere without him, not after everything that was happening.

I could feel his presence even though he wasn’t in the room with me. He was just outside my office. He’d driven me to work and parked his fine ass in one of the waiting area chairs like a sentry, his broad frame impossible to miss and totally out of place.

I’d argued. Oh, how I had argued, but Austin was immovable.

“It’s not up for debate, Em,” he said, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set. “You’ve had too many close calls. Until we know who the hell is after you, you’re not going anywhere alone.”

And now, here he was.

A part of me wanted to be irritated, but the bigger, more honest part? It was grateful.

As much as I hated to admit it, the break-in at my apartment, the attack at Rusty’s, and the chaos at the underground fights had shaken me. I was trained to handle stress, had spent years learning how to compartmentalize, but the past few days had tested every ounce of my self-control.

Austin made me feel safe.

I sighed and forced myself to refocus, glancing at the clock. My first appointment wouldn’t be here for another half hour, but I needed to prepare. I reached for the case file on my desk just as the door to my office swung open.

“Holy hell, Emmy.”

I looked up just in time to see Maya shut the door behind her, eyes wide with excitement.

“What?” I asked, arching a brow.

She practically vibrated with energy as she crossed the room and dropped into the chair opposite my desk. “Tell me who the absolutely fuckable snack is sitting in your waiting room.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Maya?—”

“No, don’t even try to play it off,” she interrupted, leaning forward. “That man is fine—capital F fine. I swear, when he looked up at me, I almost forgot my own name. Please tell me he’s not a patient.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at my lips. “That’s Austin.”

Maya blinked. Then her mouth fell open. “Austin? The Austin?”

“The one and only.”

She smacked her hands on the desk. “You have got to be kidding me.”

I just sighed.

Maya was there all those years ago when I had walked away. Picked up the pieces with me. Watched me struggle to move on, even when I only pretended I had. Now she would watch me fall all over again.

“You left that?” Maya demanded, pointing toward the door like Austin was sitting there waiting to be reeled back in.

I scoffed. “It wasn’t that simple, Maya.”

“Oh, honey, I know. But damn. If I had known he looked like that, I would’ve told you to just suffer through whatever issues you had.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “I’m sure that would’ve gone over great with my therapist.”

She smirked, but then her expression softened. “What’s going on, Em?”

I hesitated, but this was Maya. If there was anyone I could be honest with, it was her.

“He’s helping me look for Luke. And…I slept with him,” I admitted quietly.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“More than once?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

She sat back in her chair, studying me. “And?”

I blew out a slow breath, in a stupid attempt to buy time before my next confession. “And I still love him.”

She didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Of course you do. You’ve loved him since the day you walked away.”

My throat tightened. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“I can’t go back to that life,” I said, shaking my head. “I barely survived it the first time.”

Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, “Are you sure that’s what this is about? The life? Or is it about being hurt again?”

A knock at the door saved me from having to respond. My first appointment of the day had arrived.

I stood, pushing my emotions aside and forced myself to focus on work. For the next few hours, I did just that until I stepped out of my office and found something unexpected.

Austin was sitting in one of the chairs, deep in conversation with Noah—one of my patients.

I frowned, watching them from a distance. The boy, barely seventeen, had a troubled home life, his past marred by abuse and neglect. I had spent months trying to get him to open up. And yet, here he was, talking to Austin like they had known each other forever.

Austin’s posture was relaxed, but his expression was serious. The boy nodded at something he said, eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

Trust.

I brushed it off—Austin was just being nice—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw more than he let on.

Before I could overthink it, I called Noah back, ending their talk and diving into work once more.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving, but I hadn’t packed anything. I was just about to figure out a plan when my office door opened.

Austin walked in, carrying two bags of takeout. Suspiciously, the name on the bag was Fidelia’s Restaurant. My favorite.

I blinked. “How?—?”

He set the bags on my desk. “I remember you always liked this place. Had one of the guys drop it by.” He shrugged. “Figured you wouldn’t have time to grab anything.”

My heart clenched at how he still cared for me. I’d forgotten how special he’d always made me feel. Because Austin knew. Of course, he had been paying attention.

I sat down, shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply, pulling up a chair. “Eat.”

We ate together, the silence between us companionable. The chicken parmesan was to die for. The sauce was just the right amount of spicy, and the chicken was fork-tender inside and crispy on the outside. A far cry from my usual turkey sandwich and chips. And I had Austin to thank for that.

I swallowed the last bite of my lunch, pushing the empty takeout container aside. I really didn’t know what to make of the man across from me. I knew him, yet I didn’t. Too many years had gone by.

I studied him across the desk, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in his chair. “That kid earlier,” he said casually. “He’s been through hell, hasn’t he?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t discuss specifics, not without breaking patient confidentiality, but I could confirm the obvious. “Yeah. He has.”

Austin hummed, his gaze distant. “He’s got fight in him.”

My brows furrowed. “You got all that from a conversation in the waiting room?”

His lips twitched. “I recognize survival when I see it, Emmy.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten. He wasn’t just talking about the boy. He was talking about us too.

Austin had survived a bully of a father, and I’d survived being raised by a dad who spent more time away from home on missions than he did making sure Luke and I ate every day. Then he was killed, and I had to figure out how to survive in that world. Luke had made it as normal as he could, but there were still nights I went to sleep terrified.

I looked away, busying myself with stacking the trash back into the takeout bags, but Austin wasn’t done. “What about the girl?” he asked. “The one with the sleeves over her hands.”

My stomach twisted. I knew exactly who he meant. She was a cutter and didn’t like people seeing her scars. He had noticed that?

“She seemed nervous,” Austin continued, “but when she sat down, she relaxed a little. I didn’t push her to talk, just made a comment about the book she was holding. That’s when she looked up. She asked about my tattoos. Evidently, she’s thinking of getting one.” He paused. “The way she held on to that book? Like it was her only safe place?”

I exhaled. “It might be.”

Austin’s jaw tightened. “Parents?”

I sighed. “Not great.”

“School?”

I shook my head. “Not much better.”

He muttered a curse under his breath. “And the kid with the hoodie? The one who wouldn’t look me in the eye?”

I hesitated before answering. “He trusts almost no one.”

Austin nodded slowly, rubbing his jaw. “I kinda got that feeling. But he still showed up.”

“That’s something,” I agreed.

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Austin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Where do these kids go when they’ve got no one, Em?”

I blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said deliberately, “if home isn’t safe, and school is just another battleground, where do they go? Who steps in for them?”

I had spent years grappling with that very question, trying to fill the gaps where the system failed. But the truth was… there was no easy answer. “Sometimes, they find a mentor,” I said. “A teacher, a coach, a neighbor who sees them, really sees them. But for most of them?” I shook my head. “They slip through the cracks.”

Austin’s eyes darkened. “And no one does a damn thing.”

I felt the same frustration often in my line of work. “Not enough people, no.”

His hands curled into fists on the desk. “That’s bullshit. Every kid needs someone to at least believe in their dreams.”

“I know.”

Austin fell silent, but I could see the gears turning in his head. It was scary how good it felt to know he cared about my kids.

Then he met my gaze. “These kids—what do they need most?”

I didn’t hesitate. The answer was simple, yet difficult. “Stability. A safe place. People who won’t give up on them.”

Austin held my eyes for what felt like forever, then leaned back with a sigh. “That’s a damn shame,” he muttered.

I frowned curious why he thought so. “Why?”

“Because no one gives a shit until it’s too late,” he said. “Then the world acts surprised when they end up in trouble.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Austin’s gaze flickered toward the window. “Somebody needs to step up.”

I studied him carefully. He wasn’t just making conversation anymore. He was thinking. And knowing Austin, once he got an idea in his head, he wouldn’t let it go.

I wasn’t sure why, but for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful.

Hope was dangerous, though. It crept in when I wasn’t paying attention, whispering promises I’d be foolish to believe. Sitting across from Austin, watching him consider something bigger than himself was enough to make that dangerous hope unfurl inside me.

I was getting in too deep. I had to stop.

Austin was still the same man. The same man I had walked away from, the same man who would always belong to something greater than just the two of us. I couldn’t let myself believe, even for a second, that this time would be different.

By the end of the day, my resolve was slipping. I rubbed at my temples, fatigue setting in. I had seen six patients back-to-back, and yet the only thing occupying my mind was the man sitting in my waiting room.

The man who, like clockwork, stepped into my office the second my last patient left.

“You ready?” Austin asked, his deep voice filling the quiet space.

I closed my eyes for a second before meeting his gaze. He looked at me the way he always did—like he saw too much.

My expression must have given me away because he narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I inhaled slowly, bracing myself. “I can’t go back to the compound with you.”

Austin stilled. “The hell you can’t.”

“I can stay with Maya?—”

“No. You’re not staying anywhere but with me.”

I pushed back from my desk, standing. “Austin, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This.” I gestured between us. “Falling back into old patterns, into you. It’s messing with my head.”

He stepped closer, forcing me to tilt my chin up. “And what exactly is happening in that head of yours, Emmy?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m wanting things that can never happen.”

“Like what?”

I shook my head, feeling exposed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he growled. “Tell me.”

I hesitated, the words lodged in my throat. But Austin wasn’t the kind of man to let things go. “I want you, Austin. And not just for a night, not just for stolen moments. I want things I can’t have.”

Then, without warning, Austin turned and locked the office door.

My breath caught.

He stalked toward me, backing me up until the edge of my desk pressed into my spine. “You want me?” His voice was rough, his eyes burning into mine. “Then take me.”

My resolve cracked and before I could think, his mouth was on mine.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was fire and desperation, a claiming. I clutched at his shoulders as he lifted me onto the desk, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open for him.

Austin was on his knees before I could catch my breath.

His mouth, his hands—every touch sent me spiraling, my head falling back against the desk as he unraveled me completely.

My breathing was ragged, my body still trembling in the aftermath of Austin’s touch. I tried to gather the pieces of myself, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at me like he owned me.

Because, damn it, he did.

And I was right back at the beginning of our problem. No matter how much I loved him, no matter how much he said I was his—Austin would always belong to the Kings.

I couldn’t survive loving a man who would always choose the club over me and who I couldn’t depend on to be there considering the dangerous life of a KOC. And there was my job. His position as Prez would conflict horribly with what I’d worked so hard to achieve. Tears gathered in my eyes at the hopelessness in my heart.

Austin looked up, his expression stunned at finding tears tracking down my cheeks. “Emmy?”

I shook my head. “I can’t be what you need,” I whispered.

The words felt like knives as they left my lips, but I knew they were true.

Austin stood and brushed his knuckles along my cheek, wiping away the evidence of my pain. “You are exactly what I need, Em, and I’m gonna prove that I’m what you need too.”

A sharp pang hit my chest, somewhere between longing and fear. “Austin?—”

“No,” he cut me off, his grip tightening on my thighs. “I know what you’re about to say, and I’m telling you it’s bullshit.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t be with someone who operates on the wrong side of the law. Do you have any idea what that would do to me? To my job? My entire career is based on helping troubled kids.”

“And what do you think I want, Emmy?” he interrupted. “You think I just wanna push weight, run protection, and break skulls for the rest of my life?”

I blinked, thrown by the edge in his tone. “Don’t you?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No. I don’t. But I also don’t get the luxury of just walking away from the only family I’ve ever had.”

I shook my head, trying to push back the emotions threatening to choke me. “That’s the difference between us, Austin. I built something for myself. Something that makes a difference. I can’t lose that.”

His fingers flexed on my legs before he let out a slow breath. Then he met my gaze, eyes locked on mine. “So that’s it, then? You walk away because of what I am? Or because of what you think I am?”

A war was waging inside me. “I walk away because I have to.”

His hands slid from my thighs as he straightened. “You love me.”

I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Because he was right.

“I do,” I whispered. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Then I’ll change the rules.”

I froze, my breath stalling. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t have all the answers right now, but if the only thing keeping you from being with me is this life, then maybe it’s time I start figuring out how to make it something you can be a part of.”

I stared at him, my pulse roaring in my ears. Was he serious?

Austin had never been a man who spoke lightly. When he said something, he meant it. But this—this was his whole world. How could he even consider…

My head spun.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over mine in a slow, lingering kiss before stepping back. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still firm. “You’re coming back with me.”

This time, I didn’t argue.

The drive back to the compound was heavy with unspoken words. I stared out the window, my mind a tangle of emotions, while Austin gripped the wheel, his knuckles taut.

When we pulled up to the clubhouse, he cut the engine but didn’t move right away. He turned to me, reaching out to tilt my chin up.

“You’re mine, Emmy,” he murmured, brushing his lips against mine. “You always have been. And you always will be.”

Then he kissed me, deep and consuming, a promise in every stroke of his tongue. By the time he pulled back, I was breathless, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He opened the door and helped me out, leading me toward his room without another word.

I knew I was in trouble.

Because hope—that dangerous, soul-consuming hope I had been trying so hard to ignore—was threatening to take hold once again.