Page 3

2

T he nerve of this asshole.

Get her ass out to his truck or she was going over his shoulder?

Like. Hell.

“You can’t threaten or push her around, Renard,” Devon warned. “That’s not how things work around here.”

This wasn’t good.

She got the feeling that Renard was holding himself tightly in check and that it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Why did he care if she walked home alone or waited around for Devon?

Made no sense.

“Opal?” Devon asked in a low voice. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

What she wanted was to not be in this situation in the first place.

She’d never had anyone care about what she did or where she was going. Even when she was a kid.

Well, other than Stefan, that is.

And that had entirely been about control and had nothing to do with her safety.

She could tell Renard to get lost.

And she should because he was being a bit of a high-handed dick.

But . . . there was a hint of desperation about him.

As though he had to do this.

“Renard can take me home. Just this once.”

Renard scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”

“Take the win tonight, buddy,” she warned. “But don’t fucking push it.”

Turns out she was a regular bleeding heart.

“Sure, Opal?” Devon asked.

Opal smiled at him. Devon was a good guy. If she was a different person, she might have been attracted to him because he was hot.

However, she knew she’d eat him up and spit him out. Not because he wasn’t strong or dominant.

But he wasn’t the sort of strong Dom she needed. And he hadn’t been through hell in his life. He’d likely never understand her.

Sometimes she wondered if anyone could.

If they could live with her demons and still see something good in her. Lord knew when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see anyone worthy of love.

“I’m sure, bud,” she told him with a wink. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“All right. Text me when you get home safe, though.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she replied.

Devon rolled his eyes, the tension in his body easing.

“Don’t call him that,” Renard ordered as she walked behind him toward the door.

“I can call him what I like,” she snapped back.

Easy.

Just let him take you home. It’s no skin off your nose.

Remember, you don’t need a man to love you to feel worthwhile.

Or, at least, that’s what Doctor Susie told her. Doctor Susie had a whole lot of books on how to build your self-confidence. On trauma and recovery. Opal couldn’t afford an actual therapist, but she had managed to get some of Doctor Susie’s books from the library.

She wanted to try and piece her life back together. To find who she was when she wasn’t being beaten down.

Renard paused and turned.

She braced herself for his anger. That’s what men did when they didn’t get their way, right?

They got angry and blamed other people for their faults, their failings.

Not all men.

You can’t hate all men.

Doctor Susie said that too. The woman was really a genius. Opal wished she had a tenth of her smarts. But Opal hadn’t even graduated high school.

Dumb as a box of rocks Stefan used to say.

Asshole.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Don’t walk behind me.”

She blinked. “Huh?” What was he talking about?

“You shouldn’t be walking behind me,” he said again.

“But you’re leading the way. You know where you’re parked.” Was he losing it? Had he ended up having a sip of rum?

“You still shouldn’t walk behind me. Walk alongside me.”

“Um. Okay.”

Made no difference to her where she walked. With a shrug, she moved up next to him. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied sarcastically.

Opal rolled her eyes. “You have more mood swings than a teenager.”

Silence.

He stepped forward and drew open the door. She stared at him a moment before walking past him. Opal still wasn’t used to the way that men treated women here. And, damn, as she walked past him, she got a hint of his scent.

Gingerbread.

He was killing her.

“Still think I might have landed in Stepfordville,” she muttered.

He snorted, sounding amused as they stepped outside. “Thought that for the first year I lived here. That there was no way everyone could be this . . . nice and genuine. Then I realized that they aren’t all nice or all good or all perfect. They’re just normal, decent people.”

“Normal?” she repeated.

“You and I, we’re not used to decent being normal. We’re used to decent being the exception not the rule. Where’s your coat?”

“Huh? Oh, I forgot it.”

“Don’t do that again.”

They approached a huge, blue truck and instead of going for the driver’s side after he unlocked it, he opened the passenger door.

“Don’t do that again?” she repeated.

“Yeah, don’t forget your coat again.”

“It’s not even that cold out.”

“You need one. Up late at night on your own, walking in the dark with no coat. Damn fool things to do.”

“I am not a fucking fool.” It took a bit to really rile her. To really and truly make her angry.

But he was getting close.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m sure people do, darlin’,” she drawled as she got into the truck.

He closed the door with a soft click. With a sigh, she leaned her head against the headrest.

She heard him get in, but he didn’t start the truck straight away. What was he doing?

Opening her eyes, she turned her head toward him. Even though it was night, there was plenty of lighting out in the parking lot. Devon looked after his customers. So she could see Renard tightening his hands around the steering wheel.

Tense. Relax.

Tense. Relax.

She followed the movement, growing more anxious by the moment. Was he going to turn on her? What had she done to make him angry?

Suddenly, he turned, and she flinched back into the door.

Fuck. Shit.

That damn well hurt. And what the hell was she doing? She was tough. Strong.

She didn’t take any shit from anyone.

So why did she just shy away like she thought he would hit her?

Instinct. Or maybe habit.

Because she wouldn’t be in an enclosed space if she thought he might hurt her.

Then again, maybe she was being a dumbass because Renard had a reputation for being temperamental.

“Did you . . . did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered.

There was a starkness to his voice.

As though he felt ill.

“No,” she scoffed. “You just startled me.”

He stared at her for a long moment and she forced her gaze onto his chin.

“Look at me, then.”

“I am,” she countered. “If you don’t want to drive me home anymore?—”

“Look at me, Opal. Didn’t take you for a coward.”

Anger flooded her and she snapped her gaze to his. “I’m not a coward!”

“I know you’re not, Gem,” he told her in a soft voice. “I bet you’ve got more courage in your little toe than the rest of this town put together.”

“Not sure that’s true, but I’m no coward. And if you know I’m not then why did you say that?”

“Because I wanted you to look at me. And see that I mean every word when I tell you that I would never hit or harm you. I would cut off my arm before I did that to you, to any woman or child, for that matter. I know I’ve got my problems, my demons. I know I have a temper. I can’t stand idiots. But you’re not an idiot, Opal. And if I ever laid a hand on you in anger, ever hurt you, you go straight to Jake and tell him to shoot me dead.”

She sucked in one breath, then another, slowly putting herself back together. She still couldn’t believe she’d flinched like that.

“I won’t be worrying Jake, I’d shoot you myself.”

“Good girl,” he praised her. “Good fucking girl. You do that. Because no man who touches a woman like that deserves to live.”

She felt a surge of pleasure at his praise which instantly made her uncomfortable. Because she shouldn’t feel that.

Because she definitely wasn’t ‘good.’

“I’m nobody’s good girl. Some of the subs at the club might like that shit, but not me.”

Such a liar.

The truth was that she wanted to be a good girl. She wanted to give in to a Top who would take care of her, look after her.

Spank her when she needed it. Yeah, she liked a bit of pain sometimes.

She’d just never found someone who could give her that.

Or someone she trusted to do that.

“We going or what?” she asked.

“Will once you put your seatbelt on,” he told her.

Oh. Right.

“Stickler for the rules, huh?”

“Not usually, no,” he said. “But this is about your safety and I take that seriously.”

It was hard not to take his words to heart, not to let them build a wall around the hurt inside her.

But she knew that those words weren’t really directed at her. This was how he would act toward any woman in Haven.

You aren’t special, Opal.

And you never have been.

There’s only one thing men ever wanted from her. Not that she was ashamed of having sex, of wanting it.

But she was sick of it being a transaction.

Of it meaning nothing.

However, she didn’t let any of that show on her face, instead she clicked her seatbelt into place.

Only he still didn’t start driving.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you before,” he said gruffly. “I haven’t got much of a filter. Don’t really know how to be anything but what I am, and most people would call me an asshole. Just wanted you to know, it wasn’t deliberate or aimed at you. I just . . . didn’t want you to walk behind me because I needed to see you. And I don’t like the idea of you being out here alone at night because I hate the idea of you being hurt. Hate the idea of any woman being hurt. And while people around here might think this town is safe, it isn’t always. As wrong as it is, walking around at night on your own just ain’t safe for a woman.”

Right.

Now she felt awful. Why was it so hard for her to accept that someone might be concerned about her?

Opal let out a deep breath. “I get that, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself a long time and I’ve gotten this far.”

Battered, bruised, and sometimes beaten down.

But she was still here. She still got up every morning.

That was what counted, right?

“And I’ve got Zappy.” She patted her handbag. It was an enormous pink monstrosity that basically held her life.

“Your bag?” Renard asked.

“My Taser.”

“You’ve got a Taser in there?”

“Yep. And as well as Zappy, I’ve got Stingy.”

“I don’t think I wanna ask,” he muttered.

“That’s my pepper spray. As well as that, I’ve got Bangy.”

“Bangy? Please don’t tell me that’s a gun.”

“Nah, I wanted a gun, but Lilac and Ryleigh got upset with me when I suggested it. No, Bangy is my small wooden bat.”

“You carry around a wooden bat?”

“Just a small one. I really think the question should be why wouldn’t you carry around a wooden bat?”

She’d tried to convince Lilac and Ryleigh of that, but for all of the bad things they’d experienced, they were still looking at the world with rose-colored glasses.

Well, Ryleigh in particular.

But not Opal.

Renard stared at her again before turning to start up his truck. She waited for the ridicule. For him to convince her that she didn’t need that stuff now that she lived here.

Which was bullshit.

“Fair call,” he said.

“I have the right to . . . what?”

“I said that’s a fair call. The Taser, the pepper spray and the bat. You ever thought about brass knuckles?”

“Often,” she replied. “But I’m not that great at physical self-defense. I’d just rather they didn’t get that close.”

“I get that. But still, it’s good to have a back-up in case they do get close, and you haven’t got your bat handy. You could carry brass knuckles in your pockets.”

“Not in these jeans, honey,” she told him. “I pour myself into these. They’re like paint on my skin.”

And that was the way she liked her clothes. Tight or short, sometimes both.

“Right,” Renard said awkwardly.

Hmm. She didn’t think that would make him uncomfortable. Was it that he didn’t like her clothes?

Not that she gave a shit what anyone thought.

She dressed for herself not for anyone else. People had often tried to change her or make her feel bad for her preferences.

Fuck them.

She stared out the side window. For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to react like that to her clothing.

And it kind of stung.

“You live in Mrs. Easton’s old house, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said warily.

He knew where she lived?

“Small town,” he told her. “No need to stiffen up like I’m your stalker or something. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in this town. Worst thing about living here. Bunch of busybodies.”

“Tell me about it,” she said. “Especially those Malones.”

He pulled up into the small drive of Mrs. Easton’s house. “Where’s your security light?”

Opal frowned.

“Alec better have installed a security light,” he grumbled.

“He did. I don’t know why it’s not coming on.” A strange feeling came over her.

Get a grip, Opal.

It’s not a freaking sign that something is wrong. All it means is that there’s a wire loose or something.

Renard just grunted. She undid her belt and turned to thank him, but he was already getting out. He stomped his way around the truck and opened her door.

“Thanks,” she told him as she climbed down.

Another grunt.

Opal rolled her eyes at his back as he headed toward the front door.

Wait . . .

“Where are you going?” she asked, running after him. Yep, she was wearing six-inch heels but that didn’t mean she couldn’t run.

She could run a freaking marathon in these shoes if she wanted.

“Seeing you to your door.”

“This town is so fucking weird,” she muttered.

“Does Devon see you to your door?” he asked.

“He waits in his car until he sees me get inside.”

“Not fucking good enough. I’ll need a chat with him about that.”

“Please don’t,” she said hastily. “Devon is a good guy.”

He muttered something under his breath that she figured she was probably better off not hearing. Reaching into her bag, she drew out her key. It had a huge fluffy pink pom-pom attached to it as a key ring.

“What the hell?”

“It’s so I don’t lose it.” She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Well, thanks.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Lock your door.”

Turning, he stomped back to his truck.

Lord save her from grumpy, impossible men.

Sometimes it felt like this town was full of them.