by E. M. Moore
2
Two days later, I walk next to Lucas’ wheelchair as a nurse pushes him down sterile hospital corridors toward freedom. Stone and Wyatt are waiting for us out front. Through the automatic glass doors, I watch the sun stream down on the silver Audi, making the paint sparkle in glittering waves.
Stone’s eyes hide behind dark sunglasses as he stands next to the passenger door, hands shoved into pockets, lips a thin line. Taut shoulders give away just how much his friend’s injuries have affected him. Knowing Stone, I’m guessing the guilt has become too much for him at times over the last few days. He’s always acted as Wyatt and Lucas’s protector, and with Lucas getting injured the way he was, I know it has to be tearing him up inside.
The dark-haired cowboy, however, beams under the wide brim of his black cowboy hat, his chiseled features relaxed as he leans against the back door, arms crossed in front of him. He’s the picture of complete joy, and I love him for it.
The four of us all deal with things so differently, but somehow, it works.
Lucas mutters under his breath, clearly not happy he’s being wheeled to his escape from the hovering nurses and the confines of the hospital room. His displeasure is written all over his face as he slumps in the chair.
As soon as the wheels stop and the nurse lowers the brake, he stands. White bandages loop around the front of his neck, peeking out above the collar of his green t-shirt. His hands still sport bandages too, but he has full use of them now. The only concerns moving forward are infection and Lucas regaining full use of his voice. He’s been told not to push it, and I intend to make sure he doesn’t.
Warmth spreads in my belly as he reaches back to grab my hand instead of making a beeline toward the car. Overwhelming joy tingles my limbs as soon as we’re all seated inside, just the four of us. With his father on the run, Stone will be staying at Jacobs Manor again, and I can’t think of a better time for us all to be united.
I need all of them. I need Stone’s strength, Wyatt’s laughter, and Lucas’ calm, steady hand.
“Cole called while you were in there,” Stone announces, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.
The happiness numbs to nothingness again. I guess Lucas getting out of the hospital is only the tip of the iceberg of problems we have right now.
I bite my lip. I’m putting off the inevitable, but what am I supposed to say to him? I haven’t attempted to break down the fact that he killed the man I thought was my dad yet. I try to muster up anger for the gangster, but there’s none. Only curiosity about why he would kill Clark Wilder. Was it for the treasure? Was it for me?
If I’d only sit down and speak with Cole, I’d have these answers already, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not ready.
“You’ve got to sometime,” Wyatt offers, hand wrapping around my thigh and squeezing me there. “We’ll be there for you.”
I turn in the seat and find the black sedan following us. Two of Cole’s guards are always around now. They don’t pry. They don’t push us to find the treasure. They’re here for our protection against Lance’s hired men—I think. And I have to say that I never saw that coming. When Cole first showed up with the black smoke of my family’s house billowing in the background, I thought he was the villain. I’m not saying he’s the hero because he’s not that either, but what if he’s both? A heroic villain. The bad guy with a conscience. That would be something, wouldn’t it?
I turn back around in the seat, inspecting the hard lines of Stone’s jaw while he drives. He’s itching to know everything Cole does. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stone already asked him what it is that he has to tell me. It’s getting to the point where even I have to admit that I’m being ridiculous.
I just need to get out of my own head.
My phone rings, and I sigh. There are only a few people who call me, and of the four who do, three of them are in this car. That leaves only one possibility as to who the caller is. The very same person I’ve been dreading talking to.
I pull the phone from my pocket and glance at it. Sure enough, Cole’s name scrolls across the screen. This is the first time he’s attempted to make contact since I told him I needed time. He’s called Stone, however. Apparently, cleaning up dead bodies after a massacre endeared them to each other. Who knew?
I take a deep breath and hold it in my chest before answering. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” he bites out. He’s out of breath, voice tight. A round of rapid gunfire thunders in my ear, practically deafening me.
My heart flutters, nerves skittering over my skin. “Are you okay?”
“Where are you?” he demands.
“In the car, taking Lucas home.”
The black sedan behind us speeds up. The engine roars to life before they cut in front of Stone and slam on the brakes, effectively making a shiny black barrier. Stone curses and we come to a skidding halt amid a screech of tires. Our fender just kisses their bumper.
“Jesus Christ.” My fingers ache from the death grip I have on Lucas’ seat.
“My guys are there with you?”
Another round of gunfire sounds from the phone’s speaker, this one much closer than the last, and I can’t help but think that Cole is literally firing a gun while he’s on the phone with me. Who does that? “Yes. They cut us off.” My heart beats like crazy in my chest, a machine-gun rhythm that matches the movie-like sound effects that are in fact very, very real.
“Go to Stone’s place. Make sure my guys go in first so they can check it out, then hunker down and wait for my call.”
“Cole, what? Are you—?”
The cacophony on the other end of the line abruptly ends, and I yank the phone away from my ear to find the familiar Call Ended message. My fingers strangle the phone. He and I have to talk about being hung up on.
Ninja strides toward the driver’s side and leans down to talk with Stone. Before long, we’re following them to our house, and we do as Cole says: stay in the car and wait for the two of them to come out and give us the okay.
When we’re met with their solemn nods, we all step out of the Audi. My nerves skitter like cockroaches over kitchen tile. Ninja lingers on the front walk, typing out a message on his cell that’s no doubt intended to update Cole.
“What did you do?” I ask, gaze flicking from Ninja to the open door of Stone’s house.
“Checked for explosives, cameras, that kind of thing.” He finishes his message and slips his phone into his back pocket. My mouth nearly drops. Explosives? Cameras? Whoever Lance hired is the real deal if they’re worried about that. “You’ll be fine in there. We’ll be out here if you need us.”
I peek at Stone who stands to my right, frowning at his house. I can’t help but wonder what he’s going through right now, knowing what his father is trying to do to us. I also can’t help but think that we’re safe because he’s with us. As fucked up as Lance is, he wouldn’t have his own son killed. That’s why his hired men targeted Wyatt, Lucas, and I while we were in the mountains and Stone was safely away, about to get married and ruin his life…but that’s a different matter altogether.
Stone shakes hands with the other black-clad bodyguard, and the four of us enter the house. He sets the exterior alarms once we’re inside, and I let out a heavy sigh. Unfortunately, the moment of relief only lasts a millisecond before a ball of nerves knots my stomach. Cole was most definitely in a fight for his life when he called me. I check my phone but there’s nothing. I tell myself that he does this all the time, and that’s not to mention how loyal his Dragons are to him. Ninja threw himself in front of Cole when he thought his leader was going to get shot—literally threw his own body in harm’s way to save Cole. Call me crazy, but I don’t think you would do that for just anyone. It’s not because of some job requirement, it’s out of allegiance. Out of respect.
I still grapple with Cole, but with everything that’s happened and what my gut instinct is telling me, I’m happy I took out Marissa’s father to save him. Even knowi
ng now what the gang leader did to Clark, I wouldn’t take it back.
“Alright, I’m going to say it,” Wyatt starts as he leans against the arm of the pure white couch. “I can’t figure this fucker out.”
It’s clear who this fucker is. Cole’s the only one we’re currently grappling with which side to put him on—good or bad.
Lucas walks toward the opposite couch and sits back, face drained. “I still don’t like how he’s involved himself in Dakota’s life. With killing Clark and everything else he’s done? He has to be here for her and not because of Lance and his rich prick friends.”
Stone’s teeth dig into his lip in concentration. “I can’t figure it out either.” He tracks his gaze to me. Free of sunglasses, his gray-blue eyes pierce every shield I have. He and I haven’t broached the topic of his almost-marriage to Marissa, or anything else that happened at his father’s house for that matter, but we need to. Facts litter the floor between us like broken glass, but sometimes, more needs to be said than just a play-by-play of events.
Stone stood on the altar next to Marissa, listening to the officiant, but when Cole intervened, my blond-haired babe punched his father in the face. Behind all of that, there’s a discussion that needs to happen, feelings that need to be talked through and meted out before he and I can move on.
The phone rings again and as soon as I answer it, a single shot rings out. “Jesus, I’m on the phone,” Cole barks.
“Sorry, boss. That one was still moving.”
I shudder. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was still moving.
“Dakota?”
“Here,” I answer.
He breathes a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure if they were tag teaming us. You know, trying to take us out at the same time.”
“We seem to be fine,” I report, peering around the house as if someone’s going to come running down the hallway with a gun in their hand.
“You are. My men checked your place from top to bottom. You’re safe. I’m sending more guards there now, just in case.”
“Why?” I question. Lucas and Wyatt are right. Why did Cole insert himself into our lives? That’s the part of this that doesn’t make sense.
“To protect you.”
“I get that you’re doing that, but why?”
Cole breathes out. “That’s part of the reason I need to talk to you.”
“So talk,” I demand, finally fed up. Lucas is home, so now I can explore the answers I need. It’s becoming painfully obvious that staying in the dark is a risk I can’t take anymore.
“Not over the phone. In person,” Cole affirms, reminding me of the way he likes to do business.
I roll my eyes. “That’s right. I forgot. Business is business.”
“You’ve never been business, baby girl. I just don’t want to throw this at you like some callous asshole. I need to be there.”
I run my hand through my mass of curls, inspecting his words for a lie. When I don’t spot one, my shoulders sag. “Sure,” I agree. “In person.”
Moments of silence greet me until Cole replies, “I can’t get to you for another day or so. I have to clean this up, and I’m in the Heights again. I brought Finn back, thinking you were going to be MIA for a little while to process.”
My stomach twists at the mention of my trainer. “Is he okay?”
“Finn? He’s fine. He wasn’t with us.”
I let out my own sigh of relief, a flicker of surprise registering. How did I get so attached to these people I barely know? There’s just something about them that drew me in. “That’s...good,” I hedge.
“Debatable,” Cole remarks blandly, and it sounds like there’s a story there somewhere beneath his muted words. How can I feel like I know someone so well but barely know anything about them? “Take care of yourself, Dakota. I’ll be there when I can. And by the love of all that’s holy, don’t trust Lance Jacobs. With anything.”
My jaw hardens. “No worries there.”
“Excellent. See you soon, baby girl.”
I hang up the phone and glance around the room at three expectant faces. “He’s back home. He has to do some cleanup but then he’s going to come here to tell his story.”
“Good. We’ll get some answers,” Wyatt remarks.
Stone walks up to me and wraps a curl of hair around my ear. “We’ll get through this,” he promises. “Together.”
“Not without some enchiladas,” Lucas smiles. He takes a throw pillow from the white couch and chucks it at Wyatt.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wyatt responds, plucking the pillow out of the air and dangling it from his fingers. “I promised, didn’t I?”
“You sure as hell did. I think I milked out several meals from this.” He teases the bandages with his fingertips and his face immediately sours. He’s been dealing with irritation and itchiness due to the wounds healing.
I start toward him, and Wyatt groans. “I don’t know why I agreed to the food milking. You’ve had enough milking it from all the time with Dakota.”
He’s not wrong. I spent all three nights in the hospital with Lucas, curled up by his side. As of yesterday, I can cross off hospital sex from my risqué to-do list.
This brush with death solidified a few things for me. With it now firmly behind us, I don’t intend to take time for granted. The lingering looks I get in return make me think we’re all on the same page about that.
3
A couple of days later, Wyatt walks into the main room as I perch nervously on the couch next to Lucas. My cowboy slips his gun under the sofa across from us, below where he plans to sit. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “Just in case. I’m not in the Cole’s-a-good-guy camp yet. I need to hear whatever story he has to tell first. I wasn’t a fan of your father but I didn’t kill him.”
I take in a shuddering breath, eyes closed as if to ward off the truth in his statement. All last night I ran through scenario after scenario in my head, trying to guess what Cole’s going to tell me. The facts as I know them so far are: Clark wasn’t my father and Cole killed him.
I don’t know why he killed him. What I do know is that Cole will be one hundred percent honest with me today. He always has been in the past, and I expect it of him now. He’d planned on coming clean with me even before Stone’s mother opened her mouth to reveal his secret.
“Good idea,” Lucas states, placing his arm around me and pulling me into his side. “We’ll make our judgments about Cole after all of this, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”
Stone walks in next, inspecting where we’re all sitting. He drags his gaze over the room in a once-over as if he’s preparing for a major meeting—which I guess that’s exactly what this is. “I’ll sit on the other side of Dakota. Wyatt you’ll be good there. I think we need to let Dakota do the talking since this is between her and Cole. He hasn’t been aggressive yet, but we’ll definitely step in if necessary.”
Wyatt huffs. “Yeah, I mean I only got stabbed by one of his guys. I guess that’s okay.”
“Quit your bitching,” Lucas teases. “I almost got decapitated.”
The four of us laugh, but it’s riddled with nervousness. It’s really not a funny situation, and Wyatt’s right, Cole has done some fucked up shit to us.
That’s the thing about dealing with Cole, we don’t really know where we stand with him because we don’t know what his objectives are. My gut is telling me he’s not someone to fear, however, I could be completely wrong. We might walk out of this meeting with another enemy, and the last thing we need are the Dragons as foes.
The doorbell rings, and I almost come out of my seat. I really fucked myself over by waiting to hear what Cole had to say. Now the anticipation is cutting me up inside, filleting me open with little slits across every nerve in my body. At least we’ll have more information at the end of this, and as Cole once told me, knowing all the answers makes you powerful.
Stone strides toward the door in a button-up shirt and a pair of dark kh
akis. He’s the best dressed out of the four of us. I think he wears those fancy outfits because it makes him feel like he’s in control even when he might not have any.
“Just say the word,” Wyatt says after my eyes lock with his. I swallow. He’s prepared to take Cole out if I want him to. My gut wrenches at the thought, like it already knows that would be the wrong decision. But if our situations were reversed, I’d feel the same way. We don’t know anything about Cole, really.
Stone walks ahead of Cole down the short hallway that leads to the open-plan living and kitchen area. Unlike the son of the businessman, Cole is dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, sneakers scuffing the tile floor. Ink wraps up his arms, culminating in the fiery tattoo scoring his neck. A five o’clock shadow matures his face, making him appear angrier and meaner than he has in the past. His dark eyes soften when they find mine, brightening a little as we connect. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, shoulders drooping as if he’s been carrying the weight of my safety around.
He moves toward me, and Lucas stiffens. Cole’s demeanor flips to the hostility in which a gang leader should possess. “Chill, Govern,” he sneers, holding up a wooden box. “The answers to Dakota’s questions are in here.” He holds out the hinged, pale-wood container to me that couldn’t be more than six inches squared. I take it from him, hands shaking, Placing it on my lap, I stare at it like it’s the shadow in my closet that I don’t ever want to go near.
Eventually, my curiosity wins out. I let my fingers trail over the darker knots in the finish. A small bronze clasp keeps the lid closed, and I’m afraid to flick it open. The weight of the box feels like a giant elephant decided to prop himself on top of me.
“I’m glad you were willing to talk with me.” Cole’s voice sounds almost unsure, and it makes me glance at him again. I stare right into his eyes, inspecting them as if I can pull the truth from his mind without having him utter a word.