Page 13 of Splintered Security (Aspen & Evergreen #2)

cruel and vicious ways

Ren

I let that comment slide.

For now.

She drains her wine glass and twists to set it on the end table, all the while making noises that do nothing but fuel the blood rushing to my dick.

I massage her ankles and up her lower calves. Her relaxation is obvious. Whether that’s the wine or me digging my thumbs into the soles of her feet, I don’t know.

When she sags into the corner, I ask, “Need more wine?”

She shakes her head, allowing her eyes to drop. “No, but thanks.”

“You good?”

She nods.

“Then why was the risk acceptable on Wednesday?”

She stiffens, and her eyes fly open. Her mellow demeanor is gone. I hold firm as she tries to move. Her leverage is compromised as I continue with her feet.

She shakes her head. Only this time, she’s not saying no. It’s like she wants to erase the conversation, and that motion is a backspace key.

“No secrets, remember?” I try to make my voice as calming as possible. I tamp down the lethal edge that comes out when she discusses how she’s been surviving that fucker, and the rage that bubbles to the surface knowing I could’ve helped.

If she’d only trusted me.

“Believe me when I tell you, you want a few secrets. We don’t need to be that couple who pees with the door open. Mystery is good.”

“Did you think I’d fall for that, Sunshine?” I shake my head. “What. Happened. On. Wednesday?”

Her shoulders drop as she harrumphs. It reminds me so much of the girl I used to know. The girl I used to know who is now a woman on the run. A woman wearing my ring.

“He tried to pass me around, okay?”

My blood runs cold, but she doesn’t notice.

Her reticence has become just the opposite, and her words tumble out like the dam has burst, and they’re in free fall.

“It’s one thing for me to give pieces of myself away.

I chose to do those other things. Was I coerced?

Maybe. But I weighed the stakes and decided.

Mom’s safety versus my own. Her peace versus what’s strictly legal.

Whatever. But deciding I’m the club whore is a no-go.

“Wife” or not—” She’s back with the air quotes.

“I’m no one’s whore. I’m not repayment for a debt or a reward for a job well done.

Fuck that. On Wednesday, he decided that was his to determine, so I left.

I left and came here to find you. I didn’t want to bring you into it, Ren.

I really didn’t. But it was too much for me and I needed someone who could help me… or would at least try.”

The cold that hits me singes my veins into a fire that cannot be quenched. I sit, frozen to the spot, holding her feet firm in my grasp, burning from the inside out.

My best friend’s little sister. My Annika.

That fucker thought she was worth so little that he’d not only share her, but force her to share herself.

The roar that pours out of me is a wrath I’ve never known.

Not when facing down terrorists on a mountainside in Pakistan.

Not when I watched my brothers on the battlefield cut down before my eyes.

I seethe until the swarm inside me calms into a focus I haven’t felt since those incursions. Live and fight—or die trying.

“Never again.” My words are a vehement whisper. It’s all I can get past my throat after the snarl before it. “Never.”

I wait for my pulse to calm, sitting as still as I can, holding Anni’s feet where they rest.

At some point as I wait for my breathing to calm, she sits up, nestles into my lap, and buries her face in my chest. “I’m sorry, Ren.”

“Don’t.” I squeeze my arms around her, cutting off that train of thought. “Don’t ever apologize again for something you didn’t do.”

“I mean for upsetting you.”

“You didn’t. He did. And he’ll pay. He’ll pay for Aug. And he’ll pay for what he did to you.”

“I chose—” Another squeeze cuts her off. This time she doesn’t continue.

I sit, holding her, allowing her warmth to seep into me, her body to soothe me, and her presence to ground me.

When I’m calm, I stand, carrying her in my arms to our bed and set her down on the edge. I strip off her shirt and pants before doing the same to my own, and settle us under the covers.

Once she’s tucked into me, I stroke her hair until her breathing lulls and she softens into me in sleep.

I stare at the beauty in my arms. At her stunning features and her vulnerability.

I study her eyelashes resting on her cheeks and her rosy lips popped open in sleep.

I listen to her breathing and feel her body rise and fall into my own.

What I do not do is sleep. I focus on my wife, and I plot the murder of Heath Giltenhouse in the most brutal ways. Cruel and vicious ways that publicly humiliate him and assure his legacy is laughable until it’s totally and completely forgotten. If I have to take out the whole club, so be it.

Sometime long after midnight, I slide out of bed and throw the dishes in the dishwasher, put the bourbon away, and shut down the house. I also send a text to someone I never expected to contact.

Me: I need a favor. Can you get me everything you know on the Lost Mountain Rebels, especially Heath Giltenhouse, Troy Smith, Junior Conyers, and August Garver?

Liam Murphy: For my brother-in-law?

Of course he wants to know if it’s for Barone.

Me: No.

Liam Murphy: Roger that. Give me a bit.

Me: I need it as quickly as possible.

Liam Murphy: I’m on it.

Me: Thank you.

I return to my bedroom, and for the third night in a row, I slide in next to a woman I never expected to see here—not in my wildest dreams.

Or in my dirtiest fantasies.

I pull her into my body and bury my nose in her hair, breathing deeply. “Never again,” I whisper into the crown of her head.

When the sun pushes above the horizon, I let myself rest.

Anni

I wake on Saturday morning feeling fundamentally different.

Maybe it’s being unburdened of all the things I’ve been holding inside for years now. Pieces were known by some, but now everything is out there for Ren. The release was therapeutic in ways I didn’t expect.

Maybe it’s being married —even if this one is a sham just like my one to Heath. Though, somehow, it feels more real than anything else in my life.

I lie facing taut olive skin stretched over a rock-hard pec. And despite my better judgment, I lean in and place a kiss there, right above Ren’s heart.

Thick arms go solid around me, and I dare a glance up into inky eyes burning with lust. Before I can register it, he shifts, and I’m atop Ren, straddling him, my legs opening to bracket his hips.

He threads his fingers through my hair and drags me up his hard body to his mouth. When my lips hit his, he opens, taking control of the kiss. He groans as his tongue plunges into my mouth to tangle with mine.

One hand leaves my head and slides down my spine in slow erotic torture, leaving fire in its wake.

When it finds my ass, his warm palm slides into my panties, cupping me and holding me to him.

The tip of his middle finger draws small shapes, enough to drive me wild and make wetness pool between my legs.

I rock against his cock trapped between us, trying to find friction for my swollen clit.

On a growl, he rolls us, nestling his large body in the cradle of my hips.

When his cock brushes my center, I lift my hips in invitation.

He presses into me, still covered in his boxers and me in my panties.

His head dips to one breast, and, pulling the cup of my bra down, his hot tongue laves my nipple before sucking deep.

“Ren.” I arch off the bed, unable to stop a moan from filling the room. “Don’t stop.”

A strong arm slides beneath me, holding me to his mouth. When his teeth graze my nipple, I nearly combust.

I lift a hand and pull down the other cup, leaving me bare to him. He accepts the invitation and falls on my other breast, offering the same torturous pleasure. I thread my fingers through his hair and hold him to me, all the while rocking my hips, seeking but never finding what I truly need.

His mouth leaves my breast only to blow cold air on it, leaving my nipple standing at attention waiting for more of his touch, more of him.

He trails a kiss over my ribs and to my belly button. Thumbs go to the waistband of my panties as his kisses slide further down my body.

“Oh, God.” Every part of me aches for more.

The pounding in my heart is echoed by… a pounding on the door. We both freeze in place.

“Fuck.” Ren barks out the word at the same time I whine, “No.”

Ren’s handsome face comes over mine and in one easy dip, he kisses my lips chastely. His voice is steel when he speaks. “Sunshine, I need you to get dressed and stay in here. I’ll come get you if it’s safe to come out. ”

His eyes hold mine until I nod.

I lose his gaze as the pounding begins again. He kisses my forehead, whispering the word beautiful , does a push up off of me, and rolls out of bed.

I drop my eyelids and cover my breasts as he does whatever he does to leave the room. The snick of the door latch tells me I’m alone.

“Ugh.” I throw my hands over my flushed face and try to calm my racing thoughts.

My boobs are out, my face is flushed, and I’m horny like never before.

That man ravished me—there’s no other word for it—and he barely touched me.

My belly is on fire, and my clit is screaming for attention.

I’m embarrassed I rubbed myself on my husband like a litter of kittens on catnip.

I’ll have to face him at some point and look him in the eye.

My face heats again. Thank God I’m alone.

I can’t lie, I’m scared. And Ren must be that, too, if he told me to get dressed and hide. And here I am, lying around thinking about wanting to be fucked. Is too horny to live a thing? Maybe just today…

I get up and do the morning routine. And then I do it fuller because Ren still isn’t back. At this point my hair is done, and I’ve played around with makeup. I’m dressed and the desire in my core has changed to a desperate need for coffee.

I pull the door open a crack only to hear men’s voices. No note of anger, no hint of challenge. I slip down the hallway as quietly as possible.

“…is one nasty motherfucker,” the voice I don’t recognize says. “He comes off dull, but he’s more of a mastermind than anyone gives him credit for. He may even be the br ains of the operation. Don’t let his looks fool you. He’s a son of a bitch and will gut you for fun because you’re in the way.”

What the hell? And who are they talking about?

“Noted.”

“Now, August… Hate to tell you, but that dude is dead.”

I manage to hide my gasp but feel my anger rising, ready to boil over with any little thing.

“Know that,” Ren replies.

“Then why’d you have me dig up dirt?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Well, nothing much to tell. All accounts say he was a decent dude. Messed around with the wrong crowd and got sucked into something he couldn’t extricate himself from.”

Sounds about right.

The man continues, “Autopsy showed no residual drugs. My intel says he wasn’t much of a drinker, never used. Was quiet and stayed to himself. Went along to get along and his heart wasn’t in the club. Sounds like he was stuck.”

Ren doesn’t have a chance to say anything because I take that time to come around the corner. I’m sure the look on my face doesn’t say good morning and welcome to our home as my hands hit my hips.

Ren jerks as the bald man lifts his eyes to me. He has hard eyes, a body that he clearly has honed into a weapon, and an unruly red beard that would make the members of ZZ Top green with envy .

The stranger stares at me. There’s no interest there, no anger, no anything. It’s clinical and calculating. After a moment, his bored gaze slides back to Ren.

“Liam, this is my wife, Anni. Anni, meet Liam Murphy.”

I say nothing. Liam Murphy simply nods once.

I slice my eyes to Ren. That whole facing him after climbing him like a tree thing wasn’t that bad after all. Dropping my hands, I turn my back on the men and make my way to the coffee maker. At least there’s caffeine.

Once that’s poured, I settle in the corner of the kitchen, pushing my hip into the counter and raise my mug to my lips. I want to hear the rest, almost as much as I don’t.

Liam’s eyes flash to mine before resting back on Ren’s. “That’s all I have for now. You’ll know if and when I get more. Can’t push too hard without compromising my contact. And without a good reason, I won’t do that.”

Ren extends a hand to the man. “Appreciate it more than you know.”

“Be smart.”

“Always.”

And with that, the scary man with the shaved head and finger tattoos lets himself out of the front door. It takes no time for the pipes of a motorcycle to roar to life before fading into the Denver day.

That sound reminds me of Aug in a most heart-wrenching way. How did I miss Liam Murphy arriving? Oh yeah, lust-filled haze.

“Anni—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” I take my mug and stalk back to the bedroom and lock myself in.