My chest tightened, remembering our first night together. She’d begged then, too. Hard. Harder.
I shifted, sitting straighter, the weight of a worry I didn’t understand settling in my chest. “Why do you need it hard, Moriah?”
“Really? she purred, rolling her hips, driving me mad. “You wanna talk right now?”
Fuck. I did. What was this woman doing to me? “Yeah. Talk to me.”
“Okay,” she conceded, fingers combing my beard in a nervous tick. She searched my face, then sighed. “I don’t like rough sex, if that’s what you think. I’m not into kink or anything. It’s just. Well. When you take me like you did those first two nights, when we thought it would be our only time together, it was raw, and wild, and unapologetic. Just two people needing each other. Taking, giving. No expectations. I didn’t worry about how I looked, or if my breasts were too small, my thighs too big, did my breath stink, did I remember to shave? You know. All those things that get in women’s heads when we’re doing it.”
Doing it? Christ, could the woman be any cuter. “You mean fucking,” I interrupted.
She laughed. “Yeah, that.”
I slapped her ass. “Jesus, babe. Just say it. Fucking.”
“Okay. Fucking.” She emphasized the F.
“You’re so effin’ beautiful when you talk dirty.”
That earned me another sweet fucking laugh that hit me straight in the gut.
“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that when you’re unleashed, like you can’t get enough, I feel wanted and desirable, all the self-doubt gets pushed out of the way. I can enjoy sex like it’s meant to be enjoyed. Does that make sense?”
A few months ago, I would’ve said no. Hell, before Moriah, if a woman tried to get personal while I banged her, I’d have sent her packing, blue balls or not.
“Gotta be honest. I hear you, but I can’t sympathize. I’m a guy. A woman wants to fuck, that’s all the encouragement we need.”
Moriah slumped, her cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of crimson.
I pulled her closer and claimed her mouth before continuing. “Listen close. After that first night? I was done for. Couldn’t get you out of my head, much less imagine touching another woman, ever.”
Bright eyes lifted to mine, shimmering with emotion that cemented us together.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. You hear me? Hard fucking or not, bad breath and hairy legs, or not, know that you’re wanted.”
I reached between our joined bodies and dragged a finger up and down her wet slit, landing on that hard nub, then rubbing in a slow tease. “Now that my baby is growing inside you? Fuck, gorgeous, I’m way past want. I’m borderline obsessed. That’s why I was taking it slow. I’m so fucking out of my mind, I’m afraid of losing control.”
“Do it, Dane. Oh, God. Please, lose control,” she moaned, her teeth sinking into my earlobe.
Shit. I’d never been so hard in my life. No way was Moriah topping me. She’d given the green light. My engine hit full throttle.
I flipped us around, spread her wide, and did her like she wanted. Hard.
Sated and sweaty, I collapsed at her side, then tucked her against me, my gorgeous. My everything. I stared into the dark, Moriah’s soft breaths warming my chest, her sweaty skin pressed against mine. The weight of a thousand new worries molded me to the mattress.
Me. Dane Reynolds, a dad. Responsible for three new lives. What if I failed them like I’d failed Addy? Fuck. No. Never again. I’d die for my girls. I’d tear anyone apart who tried to hurt my family.
Fuck. My family. My fucking family.
My chest inflated, the pressure painful. The backs of my eyes burned, and when the first pansy-ass tear rolled down my cheek, I’d never felt more a man.
# # #
“Dane.”
The bed shook. I rolled over, my limbs heavy, trapped halfway between dreamland and reality.
“Dane!” Moriah shouted. Something soft hit my face. My shirt.
I bolted upright, nerves tingling. Light flooded the room.
“We’ll be right there!” She tossed her phone onto the bed. “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she mumbled, tugging a pair of pants over her hips.
“Moriah?” The fog lifted, my mind going razor sharp. “Talk to me.”
“Get dressed.” She tripped over a shoe, caught herself on the bed, then bent to shove her foot into the sandal.
“What’s happening?”
“Please, God. No. No. No.” Like a mad woman, she scrambled around the room, yanked a sweatshirt out of her dresser and tugged it over her head.
“Moriah!”
“The kids are missing.”
That got me on my feet. “The fuck you mean they’re missing?”
“They’re not in the house or the yard. Tango and Slade have looked everywhere. They’re gone.”
Pants on. Shirt next. “We’ll find them. Don’t worry.” Boots. Wallet. Keys. “Let’s go.”
The room spun. My head buzzed. A pain I’d never suffered seized my chest. I forced my legs to carry me forward despite the crushing weight on my shoulders. Kids wandered off all the time, right? I had when I was young, every chance I got. They were fine.
They were fine.
They were fine.
We drove in silence, me fisting the wheel, Moriah’s hands fisted on her knees, the air thick with worry neither one of us dared voice. We reached Tango’s house in under fifteen minutes. Two cop cars already blocked the driveway, parked directly behind Tucker’s truck. Flashlights bobbed across the property from every corner.
Tango met us where we parked, shoved beams into our hands, and said, “Follow me.”
Without a word, we jogged behind Pretty Boy, violent urges pulsing through my veins. Anything happened to my girl, that pansy-ass piece of shit would suffer unbearable agony, and I would enjoy every fucking second of his misery.
Through the blood rush pounding my skull, I heard, “I’ll check the diner. Moriah, you check around back. Dane,” Rossi pointed to the tree line. “You check the beach.”
I turned to offer Moriah a reassuring squeeze, but she was already off and running, calling for the kids.
The sliver of moon and ebony sky offered little assistance as I navigated the trail leading from the Truck Stop’s parking lot down to the hidden beach, where the calls of the other searchers couldn’t reach. Waves licked the shore. A bird protested my approach. Nocturnal creatures scattered, rustling the nearby brush.
I waved the light in a pendulum swing, searching left then right on the path before me. “Mim!” I called. “Rocky!”
My voice broke, and I paused, hands to knees, sucking in a deep breath to calm my raging nerves. Moisture blurred my vision, and I swiped at my eyes before continuing forward. “Mim! Mim!”
Swing, swing with the light. Deep breath. Continue. I reached the soft sand and searched for footprints. Nothing. Thank fuck. Next, I jogged north until I reached the end of that stretch of beach. I searched the trees behind me, coming up empty, then headed south until reaching the other end of the alcove. My voice was hoarse, my chest ached from the pressure, and I turned again to search the brush behind me. Slow swing left. Slow swing right. Shadows stretched and bent against the small cliff, inky figures mocking my state of sanity.
Jesus. Fuck. Why did my chest feel so heavy?
A twig snapped to my left. I swung the light that direction, catching nothing but more shadows. “Mim!”
Silence.
I breathed, tuning my ears to the night’s noises, shuffling through nature’s lullaby for something recognizable.
A giggle.
Jesus. Fuck. My knees buckled.
Another giggle.
I ran toward the sound. That beautiful God damn sound.
Behind a cluster of pines, a blanket stretched across a bush and a fallen tree. A makeshift tent. A blue glow shone through the heavy fabric.
I tore the blanket away, shining the light on two shocked faces, he
adphones in their ears, plugged into a mini computer. They sat side by side, an empty carton of Pringles at their feet.
Rocky and Mim screamed at the same time, startled by my sudden appearance.
Unable to bear my own weight, I fell to my knees, dropping the flashlight.
“Dane!” Rocky shouted. “Wanna go camping with us?”
I couldn’t speak, my head buzzing, my chest…well…shit, was I even breathing? Mim wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tight, then let go, plopping right back down at Rocky’s side.
Three deep breaths and I forced my angriest tone, despite the relief crashing through me. “Rocky James Mason. Get your ass up that bank right now. Your mom and dad are scared to death.”
His smile faded. He shot a sideways glance at Mim, then met my glare. “Ah, man. We just wanted to go camping.”
I was not fit to rebuke the kid. I didn’t trust my emotions.
“I’ll grab your shit. You help Mim up the trail.” I handed him the flashlight, but he handed it right back.
“Jeez. I have my own.” He reached under the sleeping bag and pulled out two heavy duty Maglites, slapping one into Mim’s lap. “C’mon. I think we’re in trouble.”
Mim ignored me completely, chin in the air, and marched behind her best friend. I wanted to shake her. Yell and scream and make her promise never to scare me like that again. I wanted to hold her in my arms and never let go. Lock her in a cage where I could keep her safe from the world. Where she could never make me feel such fear, so helpless ever again.
Instead, I followed behind, waited at the base until they’d ascended the trail, then listened for the cries of relief. After hearing Tango’s angry voice, I staggered backward, dropped my ass in the sand, and let the emotion take over, every muscle in my body trembling something fierce.
My phone buzzed.
Moriah: They’re here. We’ve got them.
Me: I know. Go back to the house. I need a minute.
Moriah: OK
Head in my hands, I released a silent, violent, purging scream. If that was what parenting entailed, I wanted no part of it. No fucking way would I survive twenty years of that shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Caring. Worrying. Responsibility.
I couldn’t do the parenting thing. I couldn’t be a father.
I wasn’t built for such bullshit.
# # #
Overhead, the sky morphed from purple to blue. At my feet, waves licked the shore in lazy strokes. My wet ass would be numb for days, yet I sat in the cold, damp sand, staring blindly across the bay, emotions waging war with instinct.
Freedom beckoned, the open road a siren’s call luring me from the heavy weight crushing my chest.
Through the early morning hours, I battled the urge to flee. Disappear. Leave responsibilities I had no right bearing behind.
Would’ve been easy.
Then again, leaving Moriah would kill me. Leaving Mim would destroy any chance I had of being anything less than the fuck-up my nurturing had created.
My girls. Fuck. Not sure how I’d fooled those beauties into believing I was someone worth something, but God damn I was done questioning my luck.
Freedom was alluring, true. But a lifetime staring into those freckled faces, hazel eyes beaming at me, bright fucking smiles? Hell, even their frowns were stronger, more magnetic than any innate pull of the wild.
I was no longer a solitary man. Terrifying, true, but empowering just the same.
My phone buzzed against my thigh as I pushed to my feet.
“Hey, gorgeous,” came out raspy and weak, my throat and lungs raw from the damp air.
“Morning.” A shuttered breath. “You okay?”
“Sorry about ghosting on you last night.” I rubbed at the godawful kink in my neck. “Wasn’t in any condition to be around people.”
“Okay,” came her simple reply. No judgement. No irritation. Just acceptance. “We’re at the diner. Charlie opened early for us. I ordered your favorite.”
God, that woman.
“Be there in a few.”
I turned to head up the trail, anxious to hold my ladies. Mindful of my throbbing hip, I took it slow until my gears warmed up. My phone buzzed with a text from Prez.
We’re in town. You spot Hammer, stay clear. He’s ours.
Ten different responses came to mind, none of them friendly. So, I shoved my phone into my pocket, and made my way up the hill, pausing at the crest.
The Truck Stop lot was empty aside from an older model Civic. I spotted my girls through the window and stopped dead. That damn organ in my chest shifted, settling in an awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable spot, its thump, thump, thump beating a soothing rhythm.
Another step, and the glint of chrome from the right of the building caught my eye. I stayed to the tree line until a Harley came into view. A bike I knew too well, half-hidden behind the trash dumpster, yet facing the highway, readied for an easy getaway.
Hammer.
I did not want to deal with his shit.
I shot Prez a quick text, then made my way across the lot.
Mim spotted me through the window. Smiled. Waved. Bounced in her seat. Moriah pressed her nose to the glass and made a funny face, making Mim laugh, and damn if that ridiculous sight didn’t release a shit-ton of weight off my shoulders.
I joined them, dropping a kiss on Mim’s head, then slid next to Moriah, pulling her against me and whispering, “I’m sorry I didn’t come back last night. My head was a mess.”
That gorgeous, freckle-faced angel only smiled, whispered, “I understand,” and passed me a mug of coffee. “I was scared, too.”
She lifted her chin for a kiss, and I didn’t hold back. Mim giggled, and I gave her a wink before straightening in my seat and scanning the dining room, again, for Hammer.
No sign of the bastard, and that worried me something fierce.
One man sat at the bar, his dress shirt pulled tight across his slim back as he hunched over his plate. The red-headed waitress filled napkin holders, and Charlie, the Truck Stop’s infamous chef, whistled a tune through the service window. When he spotted me, he raised a hand in greeting. I offered a chin nod, then studied Mim. She didn’t look the least bit worse for wear after her late-night adventure.
Moriah, on the other hand, had dark circles under her eyes, and wore the same clothes she’d had on last night.
“Did you sleep at the Rossis’?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, gnawing on her lower lip, her gaze bouncing to Mim. “Well. One of us slept, anyway.”
“You should’ve gone home.”
Her warm palm landed on my thigh. “I wasn’t going to leave you here. Besides, Slade insisted we stay in her spare bedroom. It was almost morning already.”
I stared at the little girl across from me, scrambling for the right words, still shaken by the thought of losing her. Seemed like a good time to offer words of wisdom, but fuck, was that my job, or Moriah’s? Was it my place to lecture, to scold?
Before I could voice my thoughts, the cowbell rattled, announcing a customer, drawing everybody’s attention to the front of the dining room. Rocky barreled through, a thousand watts of amped energy, rumpled clothes, and a wild head of messy hair. He sprinted our way, his shoes squeaking on the checkered tile when he skidded to a stop at our table.
“Hey, guys!”
“Morning, kid,” I mumbled.
Tango followed behind, fresh as a fucking daisy, shirt and slacks pressed, face smooth as a baby’s butt. God damn pretty boy.
“Dane.” He nodded, skimming over me, and focusing on Moriah. “Morning, Moriah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced at the kids, then met me eye to eye, and cleared his throat. “Can’t tell you how sorry I am for the scare last night.”
Gave me morbid pleasure watching that entitled asshole squirm. I could’ve drawn his discomfort out, made him suffer, but shit, I was too damn exhausted. Instead, I grunted, and gave him my best, you better not fuck-up with
my kid again glare.
The two of us would have to learn to coexist. I wasn’t leaving Whisper Springs. Neither was he.
“C’mon, Rockster.” He scooped his kid off the ground, leaving no room for protest, and threw him over his shoulder. “Let’s go find your mom.”
Rocky kicked and squirmed. “Dad. C’mon. Let me down.”
Ignoring his son’s pleas, Tango turned and strode through the double doors leading to the back of the diner.
Mim slumped in her chair.
Moriah looked up at me with sleepy eyes and smirked. I kissed her, because damn, what else could I do?
“Well. Well. Well. Ain’t that precious.” Hammer’s deep voice came over my shoulder. “The three of you look like one happy little family.” He dropped into the seat next to Mim.
Her face paled, and she pinched her lips together, her eyes filling with liquid.
I pushed to stand, ready to drag that motherfucker outside by his neck, then froze when he shoved the barrel of his Glock into Mim’s side.
For the second time in my life, I suffered true, terrifying fear.
Moriah
I could remember three times in my life when I’d been truly terrified. The first being the time my sister was bit by a Cottonmouth and Mom had been next door helping Old Man Franks carry boxes down from his attic. She didn’t hear me screaming for help, and I was sure Mickey was going to die.
The second was in high school, when my boyfriend dared me to spend the night at the Ridge Cemetery that was rumored to be haunted. I’d never believed in ghosts, so I scoffed at his challenge. We snuck out late at night, parked at the gated entrance, and tucked in for the evening. When we saw the first apparition in the distance, I was sure his friends were behind the scare, an optical illusion of some sort. But then we saw the girl, with the red eyes and blackened skin, begging for help and floating, yes floating, through the iron bars, and toward our car. Tyler started to cry. I had to drive home. We broke up the next day and never spoke of that night again.
The third time I’d experienced true horror was the day Mom had told me she had terminal cancer.
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