Page 30

30

Ronan

I picked her up and carried her back to the cabin after finally finding the strength to take myself out of her. I’d have kept ravaging her in the woods, but something told me to take her back.

Doesn’t mean I didn’t continue to fuck her once we stepped foot inside. I bent her over the kitchen’s half-done countertops, making her and myself come all over again. Then I took her into the shower, where again I think we covered the entire space with some form of our fluids.

I had to help her put a tampon in. She said, “Since you can take them out, you can put them in . ” Unsure if she thought I’d argue, because I didn’t. I got to look at her pretty pussy swallowing it. I was half tempted to eat her out during the process, but I withstood the temptation. She needed a break.

When she pressed her forehead to my chest, her hands tucked behind her back, she requested I carry her to bed.

It’s strange, I’ll admit, that her out of lustful state is quite endearing to me. She’s a light switch, screaming to be ravaged then turns around and wants to cuddle. I’ve never felt inclined to want that—the latter—until her. The desire to make anyone else feel good has never been a priority for me. Since getting out of prison the first time, I’ve always put myself first, second, and last.

Except now, as badly as I want to make her cry, I equally want to see her smile. It’s a conundrum I’m glad she understands; at least, is trying to.

Speaking of crying, why the fuck is it so hard to make it happen? Jesus Christ, even if her eyes filled with tears several times, it’s like she sucks them back. The only time she has was when I told her why I don’t like anyone touching me.

I wonder if I cut her, would she cry?

I’d never. Even if I did have that desire, she’s perfect, and the last thing she needs is another scar. The one on her calf—I’ll need her to tell me who put it there. And if it’s from an innocent fall... Well, I might just spank her for being reckless.

I’ve been running my fingers through her hair for a while now. I woke up before her—not a surprise—but with the way she’s been shifting, I suspect she’ll be waking soon.

Her back is to me, as it has been the past two nights, and likely will be for a while. Part of me doesn’t want a larger bed; if she had more room to move, I think she’d drift. I’ve never needed much space, having slept on a twin bed for as long as I can remember, but judging by how she sleeps, she’d be all over the place.

I’m nervous about waking up with her hands on me, and what I might do if I react instinctively. The last thing I want is to hurt her in a way she doesn’t want.

Her hand moves under her head, resting on my arm. Those soft fingers, used to hard work, wrap around my bicep, and I take a steadying breath. She does so well keeping her hands to herself, and I won’t punish her for a natural shift while she’s sleeping.

Even if every fiber of me itches to move her.

Swallowing, I place my palm under her chin, drawing her head up so I can see her partially parted lips.

“Cal, it’s time to get up.”

She doesn’t respond, just mumbles something unintelligible. I could just leave her, get dressed, and start my day.

But how long will I have with her like this?

I hate that I think this way—that my mind can’t let me believe this could last. But I know better, someone like me doesn’t keep good things. I’m a chipped glass. With enough pressure, the fracture will give, and I’ll shatter. I’ll mess up like I always do and lose everything.

A heat rises up my neck, and I roll onto my back, slipping my arm out from under her before getting off the bed. Without looking back, I make my way into the closet.

“Ronan?” Her sleepy voice tugs at something inside me, making me fight the urge to curl up beside her, as if we were just a normal couple.

I’m going to get angry just thinking how not normal we are, and I need to extract myself for some air. “Get dressed, I’ll be outside,” I say after grabbing my clothes.

“Okay…” is all I hear before I’m out of the room.

Once I’ve got my pants and shirt on, I head to the garage and hit the button to slide the metal door open. The fresh air is exactly what I need, a simple pleasure I remember craving. In prison, being outside is a privilege, but even then, it’s caged in—boxed, the sky itself feeling crowded.

When I got out, all I wanted was to go right back. Everything was shit-sandwiched between concrete white walls, but it was all I knew: free food, free housing. I ruled that place. I was the king; no one messed with me. Out here? I’ve had to survive. I have to live.

But... if living means being with Calista, maybe that’s exactly what I want now.

I hear her step out the door behind me, but I don’t turn. The gentle tapping of her feet approaching makes my muscles tighten. She knows better, I know she does, but it’s still hard not to turn around and stop an impending mistake.

She then comes around me, back to my chest and leans into me. “Good morning.” She lifts her head, and smiles. “Or, rather, good afternoon.”

The edge of my lip pops as I chuckle. “Afternoon.” I circle my arm around her neck and hold her tight to me. “Good girl.”

Her head shakes. “Listen to me, Ronan, it’s too early and I need some coffee.”

Placing my forehead to the back of her head, I take a deep breath of her . “Just calling you what you are.”

We stand in silence for a moment, just taking in the quiet sounds of nature around us. You don’t appreciate it until you’ve been without it for so long. In there it was metal clanging, men yelling, moaning—just constant noise, loud for no reason. Everything echoed, no matter where you were.

I could get used to this, especially with her.

“Would you like to enjoy a cup with me?” She pulls away from me, and I let her go.

“No, but we need to talk.”

She quickly spins to look at me, her eyes widening into circles. Her joy shifted to fear in a split second.

My brows pull together. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, right, um… I wouldn’t tell a girl ‘We need to talk’.”

Genuinely confused, I look away from her, trying to figure out why I shouldn’t say it. But in the few seconds she gives me, nothing comes to mind.

When I look back at her, she smiles, her brows pulled down wearily. “Those words put together are like a girl’s worst nightmare.” She moves around me, and I follow her as she goes to her coffee machine. “As long as you aren’t going to tell me you’re moving out and leaving me here alone, we can talk.”

“Guess that depends on your answers.”

Alright, now her fear is justified. She looks over her shoulder as the machine begins to heat up.

“Serrano.”

When she turns back to the coffee machine, I can already tell I’m not getting anything I ask for. I groan audibly, and I notice her back stiffen, straightening like a board.

“I need you to tell me the truth, Cal. Look at me.”

“Damn, can’t I have my—”

“You’re fully capable of making a cup while you sleep at this point. You can talk to me, at the very least.”

She tugs on her shirt nervously, the one that barely covers her ass. The black cotton panties she has on upset me more, even if I know why she’s wearing them, her period. I’ll teach her how much I don’t care about a natural, monthly thing.

“Okay.” She turns to me, and blinks rapidly.

“Is it the Serrano family? The house or whatever. The bad one?” I’m not sure how to put it. “The drug-dealing one. Yes or no, baby girl?”

She bites her bottom lip and nods.

I suppress a growl, feeling my nose twitch involuntarily. That anger of mine is rising. “Why the fuck are they after you?”

The high-pitched squeal of the coffee dripping into the cup breaks the silence that follows my question.

“They want something from me that I’m unwilling to give to them.”

My eyes widen, and both my hands clench into fists. “That night after work, when you came home bruised, what did they do to you?”

Her head shakes quickly. “They didn’t… they didn’t rape me. They just got rough, grabbed me. I swear.”

I wish that settled my anger. They did touch her. That’s enough for me. That is enough for me to fucking kill a man.

She takes a shaky breath. “My mom… She did something, and they helped get her out of it.”

“What did she do?”

Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth momentarily. “I… I’ll tell you, Ronan, but I want to know what happened to you, too. Please…”

I straighten my back. “I killed someone in a bar fight and was sentenced to—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “Before that… I promise I won’t run. I want to know you and what made you, you . The good and the bad.”

I move my hand up, running my fingers through my hair as I drop my head back. It’s not that I fear she’ll run; at this point, I’d chase her down and never let her go. One of us will have to be dead, or I’d have to be back in prison for her to escape me. Even if it’s selfish, because she deserves better. I just don’t care that she does.

What terrifies me is her caring too much. I see the way she is—how she’ll find her way in and try to cradle my heart, to protect it. I’m afraid she’ll fall in love with me, and I won’t be able to give that back.

“Okay, but you’ll tell me first, Cal. You are a little liar, and I won’t have you trying to wiggle out of this.”

She nods and puts her hands behind her back. “Can I sit in your lap?”

Jesus, the innocence in her voice pulls on my concrete heart.

“Your coffee—”

“Fuck the coffee, I’ll heat it up later.”

I suck in a breath and nod. “Here, or inside?”

“Out here… I like the fresh air.”

Once I sit down on the couch, facing the lake, she moves in front of me and settles right into my lap. We adjust a little, her hands finding a comfortable position as her shoulder presses gently against my chest.

I place my hand onto her thigh, the other resting at the back of her neck.

“My dad died of cancer when I was fourteen, and while my mom had done drugs before his passing, it only got worse after. At fifteen, she began taking me with her to her drug houses. The first time was the worst, but I think I just began to prepare myself for when she would take me again.”

I don’t interrupt her as she tells me in fine detail about the incident. It’s where she got the scar on the back of her calf, and when she lost her virginity. It takes everything in me not to completely lose myself to my rage.

“Only when I was seventeen, and she nearly died of an overdose, did I get her help. Somehow we were able to keep her treatment secret. I didn’t know how that was possible. For her to get certified for the board, she had to have a background check. She passed with flying colors, and it’s why she’s in the position she is. Well…”

My thumb traces the nape of her neck, more for my own sake than hers. She hasn’t cried, which concerns me a little. It’s been over a decade, but what happened to her was extremely traumatic. I can’t help but wonder if my primal need and dominance scares her, or if they bring up painful memories. I won’t ask, though. I’ve told her before that she only needs to say “no” and I’ll stop, no matter where we are in the moment. But if I had to guess, just knowing that—that I’d stop—makes her feel powerful.

“It was the Serrano’s that helped keep everything under wraps. The drug dealers my mom used to go to, I guess married into the family. So the houses, families—whatever—mixed. It’s how they became so powerful, a part of the elite. Now, they are asking something of me—”

“Tell me what they want,” I cut in.

She shakes her head. “It’s complicated. I’m trying to deal with it.”

I seethe. “They severed your fucking gas line. You wouldn’t have made it home—” That thought nearly is too much to even fathom. What would they have done? “They could’ve snatched you up right from the office, Cal!”

This is why she wanted to be in my lap. Not for her own sake, but for mine. I can’t move, and instead I pull her closer. As angry as this conversation is making me, I don’t feel the urge to hurt her. All I want is to protect her.

“It’s why I’ve requested from my boss to not go into the office for now. I don’t plan on leaving your side.”

“Good. Fucking thank you.” My tone is a mix of relief and petulance. “What do they want from you?” I ask again, knowing I’ll get the same response.

“Not something you can help with, and I don’t want you to. I can’t… I’m dealing with it, Ronan, I promise. Until I know it’s safe, I’ll stay right here.”

I roll my eyes and look away from her.

Suddenly, I see her hand come to my cheek, but she doesn’t progress.

“Can I?” she asks, and I stare at her palm, then I look up into her eyes. “Please?”

My eyes narrow, and through my heavy sigh, I nod.

She slowly presses her hand against my face, and a slight sting has my eye twitching. “I need to put some ointment on that scratch.” I completely forgot about it. She got me good, those nails of hers are deadly.

I let her turn my head to completely face her, and she smiles. That gentle one that says ‘don’t worry’ even if that’s all I’m going to do. “Aren’t you worried they’d come here for you?” They seem resourceful, I imagine they know exactly where she is staying.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Why?”

“I think you are the reason they aren’t coming.”

My brow pops out of curiosity.

“You always raise the one with the ‘SIT’, do you know that?”

“Don’t get sidetracked.” My voice lowers, and I grab onto her waist, dragging her closer. “Which one hurt you?”

“Ronan!” She throws her head back. “You can’t go out and hurt everyone—”

“I did yesterday.” The way her head slowly returns to me, mouth agape, has me chuckling. “What? You think I’m fucking kidding about your safety? No, baby girl, I’m not.” I pause, contemplating before continuing, “I’ll drop this for now if you tell me the name of the one that put their hands on you that night.”

I’ll deal with this immediate problem, and then I’ll figure out who hurt her when she was fifteen. I’m sure Ken won’t mind helping. Between the two of us, we’ve got enough connections to make people hurt , and even some disappear.

“R—”

“Don’t argue with me,” I snap, moving my hand up and grabbing her entire jaw. “Would you rather I go find out myself?”

“Tell me what you did yesterday, first.”

Dropping my head back, I growl. “You ask a lot for someone giving so little in return.”

She hasn’t moved her hand, and as she slides it back up to my hair, I close my eyes, a soft hum escaping my throat as I savor the sensation.

“A friend and I just wanted to have a chat.”

Yeah, right. I pulled up to their house—more like a mansion—right outside of the city. Glen was waiting there, ready to go. We may or may not have got into a bit of a fist fight when they wouldn’t let me in to just chat . It was only when bats came out that things got a bit messy. Plus, a dozen verses two was hard enough without weapons. I’m surprised that they didn’t have guns, but I’m not going to question my luck.

“Talking gave you those bruises on your back, I guess,” she says mockingly, and I catch a flicker in her eyes, as if something’s just clicked.

“What?”

“Nothing, so what happened?” I hate that: nothing . There is always something.

“We didn’t even get past their front gate, but I promise with enough motivation I will get anywhere for you.” The last bit of that slipped, and I quickly move on. “Give me his name, then I’ll give you what you want.”

I don’t look at her, just allow her to sit for a moment on that.

“Michael Horn.”

I’ve not killed in a few years. I did it in prison, but out of self-defense, which thankfully was captured on video surveillance, or I’d have added five to ten more on top of my sentence. I’ve learned from my mistakes and won’t make them again. Public execution, while thrilling, won’t end well for me. I’ll enjoy a silent kill.

“Now you tell me,” she whispers, settling down against my chest and extending her hand. I take it, lacing our fingers together.

“Right.” I don’t think she’s ready for this. Not many are, especially when it comes from someone like me. “Guess I can start when I was nine.”

“You are the kind of heavy that isn’t worth carrying, Ronan.”