by Coralee June
"Yeah? Like what?" I asked, pushing the eggs around on my plate as I distractedly looked towards the elevators off to our left. Blaise and Gavriel were upstairs discussing logistics for tonight, each arguing over what to do. Blaise wanted all of us to go to the fight and show a united front. Gavriel wanted to go to the meeting and catch Santobello off guard.
I wanted to do none of that. I wanted to do what I did best—run away.
"We're going to be fine," Ryker said, drawing me out of my thoughts. I was calculating how much money it would cost to get fake IDs and cross the border.
"Is that what you tell yourself to keep calm before a big fight?" I asked with a smirk as the elevator doors opened and Nix walked in, holding a cell phone up to his ear while frowning.
"Look. You need to stay indoors. Don't leave Sherrie's sight,” he ordered. He looked at me, his dark eyes such a cloudy shade that I wondered who was on the other line, making him so flustered. “Because I said so!" Maintaining eye contact with me, Nix continued speaking as he approached the table. "You should just get used to me caring about you. When I find people I like, I don't give them any other choice. Do not do anything stupid. Stay hidden. You're safer there than you are with us, but if you run off again, I'll walk to New York and spank your pretty little ass, Miss Moretti," he said before pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up.
"Gavriel's sister?" I asked as he pulled up a chair.
"Yes," Nix grumbled before stealing toast from Ryker's plate, earning a growl from the carb-loading pro fighter.
"I've seriously got to meet her," I joked. Anyone that Nix cared about automatically earned favors in my book. Add in that she was Gavriel's blood, and I was halfway to adopting the poor girl. What was it with me and wanting to collect people for a makeshift family?
"What are you all talking about? I need some lighthearted conversation that doesn’t mention the mob, tonight's fight, or what we’re doing with our lives." Nix’s voice was agitated. He threw me a playful pout as he chomped down on the bread.
"Ryker was just telling me how I could help with his pre-fight routine," I replied while lifting my foot and rubbing it along Ryker's calf in what I hoped was a seductive move.
"Wrong leg, Sweets. But please, don't stop," Nix joked before a hand from beneath the table wrapped around my ankle. Whoops. I kept rubbing though, just because I could.
Nix's phone began ringing again, but this time when he answered I could hear shouting on the other line. "Whoa, Agent Mercer, calm your tits. She's right here," Nix said while holding the phone away from his ear and handing it to me.
A mixture of many emotions flooded me. Relief that Callum was calling, fear that he was upset or angry. Then I was excited by the possibility that he was worried for my safety. I hated that about myself, but I wanted to feel loved.
"Hello?" I answered just as a parade of questions and floundering statements assaulted me.
"Summer? Are you okay? A fucking explosion?! Where are you?" I frowned when I realized he was still using the name that put an invisible barrier and distance between us.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I choked out, suddenly losing my appetite.
"What happened? I called Gavriel to let him know that I'm on my way to New York, and he says you're in Las Vegas. Then I learn that there were snipers and a car bomb? What the fuck, Summer, why didn't you call me?"
"You told me not to," I said, my answer simple yet weighed down with all the things we still needed to say to one another. We had so much to work through and so little time to do it. Ryker, Blaise, and Gavriel had years that bonded them to each other and in their friendship with me. How were we supposed to add Callum to the mix as the world went to shit?
There was nothing but silence that greeted me on the other end of the line. I could practically feel the regret rolling off of Callum, and I was mad at myself for enjoying the way he was questioning everything. Was it so wrong to want him to need me? Was it so wrong that I wanted him to see that when we were apart, bad things happened? I'd been without them all for far too long, I'd survived without my men, but I didn't thrive, not really.
"Did you deliberately not tell me, Summer?" Callum asked, his voice holding a dark tone that I'd only ever heard from his lips on the day of his parents’ funeral. It was rare that Callum ever broke free from his carefully constructed image.
"I deliberately did what you asked me to do. I gave you space, Callum."
"I see."
I could feel Ryker’s and Nix's eyes on me as we spoke, my cheeks red for throwing a tantrum in light of all the things that were currently happening. This was nothing, just a blip on the bigger picture. But still, I needed to say all the things I’d come to terms with. Sometimes, your truth hurts. Sometimes, the timing is bad. But sometimes, you have to dive under the icy water anyway.
"Callum. I fled that field because I didn't want to remind you of him, but I've gotten a few days of clarity to really think things through," I began, standing and making my way towards the elevator. There were people nearby that I didn't want listening in on the bombshell I was about to drop in his lap. "I'm angry too. I'm hurting too. From the moment I got back—no—from the moment we started to develop feelings for one another, I've made everything about you. I worshipped the ground you walked on. You needed time and space to understand our unique relationship? I gave it to you. You wanted to use me for a quick fuck in the cemetery, work through your pain? I let you. You wanted time to force your views of justice? Fine, let’s go to the deepest, darkest place of my mind and dig up the evidence of my trauma."
I wanted to yell at Callum, but my voice was nothing but a low whisper. The truths I was spitting out were almost too painful to say any louder. "You were so wrapped up in your own convoluted ideas of right and wrong that you didn't even care that I was mourning your family too. When you looked at me, you saw him." My throat seemed to close in on the last word, like I couldn't choke out even the idea of my father.
"But how you’re handling this has me thinking that you're more like my father than I am, Callum. And if things don't change, then I'll just end up like my mother, chained to a man who uses me up when it's convenient for him. I almost died. Joe is in the hospital because he quite literally took a bullet for me. And at the end of the day, I was surrounded and comforted by men that don't see me as Paul Bright's daughter, they see me as Sunshine."
Silence. Complete silence. Callum absorbed my words like the venom they were and suffocated under their weight, refusing to spit out his answer and let me know that he was done with me.
"Are you pushing me away, Su-Sunshine?" he asked. I looked around, realizing that during all of this, I'd somehow marched to our room and was standing outside the hotel door. Ryker and Nix were standing a safe distance away.
"I'm pushing you to be the man that loves me," I said before ending the call and tossing Nix his phone.
I reached for the handle to open the door and paused. "Was I too harsh?" I asked, doubting myself. Callum was still grieving, still reeling from the new information. Was it really fair of me to call him out and rip off the bandaid of our relationship so soon?
"No," was Ryker's rushed reply. Grabbing my hand, he yanked me away from Gavriel's suite and towards his room three doors down. He'd requested privacy so he could get in the headspace for the fight, but now he was frantically clawing through his pockets for the keycard and pushing me inside.
"Ryker? Did I do something wrong?" I asked, but his lips slammed down on mine before he could answer.
"Fuck," he hissed into my mouth, gradually working the tight shirt from my body and thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth. "You're so sexy, Sunshine," he grunted before picking me up and tossing me on the nearby queen bed.
Ryker took one look at the too-tight sports bra on my body and ripped the fabric, refusing to waste time working it over my shoulders. He didn't move with his usual calm collectedness. His kisses were wild. Primal. Instinctual. He wrestled with my mouth, nipping my lip as he worked m
y jogging pants off my legs with ease. "God, I love you," he murmured while trailing his tongue down my neck and to the high peaks of my breasts, licking the circular petals of my nipples before dragging his teeth against my sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupted along my skin at the sweet sensations.
"Watching me hurt Callum turned you on, huh?" I asked, a bit breathlessly. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I also felt too good to care.
His head snapped up as I looked down at him, my chest heaving. "Is that what you think?" His eyes were wide as he gauged my reaction.
"Yes?" My response sounded more like a question than an answer.
"Oh Sunshine," he responded while lowering further, kissing my skin like it was a drug. He was eager, and I felt vulnerable, deliciously treasured and delicate beneath him. "I'm dying to bury myself in your sweet little cunt because watching you stand up for yourself is quite possibly the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Ryker's lips parted, and I took in his hooded eyes. Sitting up, both of us maneuvered until we were on our knees and facing one another. "Callum's gotta learn how to take a hit," Ryker said, reminding me of our conversation in my childhood bedroom all those years ago. "And baby? You just threw your first punch."
We collided. We threw ourselves at one another, our bodies an angry mashup of clashing teeth and moving limbs. I was ripping his shirt off of him, and he was biting my lip, sucking and pulling back to the point that it hurt. I shoved at his chest, pushing him into a lying position so that I could straddle him.
"I didn't picture you as the type to like an aggressive woman," I teased while trailing my nail down his chest. The scrapes on my back were buzzing from all the movement and groping, but the pain wasn't unpleasant, it just heightened the pleasure of the moment.
"Well, let's consider this a learning experience then," Ryker replied before twisting his body and pulling me down to the mattress, maneuvering so that he was then on top. "Or this could be a warm up. I'm in the mood for a good pre-fight fuck," Ryker whispered in my ear as he leaned forward, and I forced my hips up, bucking beneath his hold, but loving how firm his hands felt as they pinned me down.
"I'm in the mood for a fucking fight," was my throaty response. I leaned up as far as I could and licked his bottom lip, earning a growl. We pushed and pulled at one another, each of us fighting for power over the other but neither of us really winning. I’d steal a kiss, he’d tug on my skin. I’d writhe, he’d hold me down.
A thin layer of sweat covered my body as we shifted, the blankets a tangled web, wrapping up our legs as we moved and making the air feel hot. I nipped at his shoulder, holding back a pleased cry as he slammed into me. “Give up yet, Sunshine? Or do you have more left in you?” Ryker flipped me over with ease then placed his palm in the middle of my back, pressing me down into the mattress. I let out a laugh as his thrusts slowed to a steady pace, giving me the perfect opportunity to wiggle away if I wanted. It was playfully hot and erotic and fun.
This was the most exquisite game of cat and mouse that I’d ever played. His body was hot against mine, and every time I got closer to coming, I’d push him away and tackle him into a new position. I wanted to prolong the inevitable. “You going to come for me, Ry Baby?” I asked.
“You first,” he croaked as he pulled out and flipped me over so that we could look each other in the eye. I clawed at his back as he leaned over me, pressing his lips to my sensitive neck and breasts. I knew I’d be sore later, the cuts from the explosion mixed with my overall exhaustion made every move more rewarding, like I’d earned the pain.
He raised up, using his arms to support him as his thrusts increased. The pace was too much to handle. I was coming apart on his cock, conceding to our battle of wills while crying out his name. His own release came shortly after, and I smiled at how good it felt for him to twitch inside of me, warm relaxation flooding each muscle and joint as we both sighed in relief.
The only sound in the room was our breathing and Ryker’s satisfied groan. “I think I need to add this to my pre-fight ritual,” Ryker said before wiping sweat from his brow.
“Then I think you need to plan a hell of a lot more fights,” I replied with a sigh. Ryker moved me to lay on his chest, and I sat there listening to his steady breathing. After a while, the doubts started to pour in over what I’d said to Callum, the fight tonight, and the meeting with Santobello. “You’re going to be okay, right?” It felt like a silly question, but I needed to know all the same.
Ryker stroked my arm as he stared at the ceiling. “As long as you are.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ryker
Six years ago
I used to be threatened with foster care. Dad would tell me all these horror stories and how he was the best I was ever gonna get. It was part of the reason why I never told anyone that he was beating the shit out of me every night.
When mom died, he kinda lost it. He was mad at the world, mad at me. He was so mad, he would drink himself stupid then use his alcoholism as an excuse to beat all his frustrations out on whatever warm body was closest. It was easier to hate me than hate a ghost. How could he beat up a woman that killed herself?
And even with all his warnings, I was still shocked the night I arrived here. My foster brother, Gavriel, liked to assert his dominance, pissing on the town like it was his for the taking. The night I'd shown up, weak as fuck and trying not to breathe too deeply because my ribs hurt, he’d taken his damn thumb and dug it into my side right on the break.
There was only one rule in Chesterbrook, and it seemed easy enough to follow:
Stay away from Summer Bright.
I wasn't exactly sure what was so special about her that Gavriel had to stake his claim before even learning my name, but I wasn't the type to question a good thing. So if he wanted to be all caveman about a girl with pretty eyes and long black hair, then I was more than willing to let him.
When you've been beaten down your entire life, you learn to pick your battles. And she was a battle not worth fighting.
Blaise offered to drive me home everyday, but I liked the walk. Of the two, he was nicer. Maybe a bit more cocky though. He was also all wrapped up in that Summer Bright chick. I could hear him through the walls of my bedroom late at night, talking with her on the phone. Guess Gavriel didn’t mind sharing with him. It was just the rest of the world he didn’t want getting too close. I’d noticed things. Little things. Like how he’d glare at guys checking her out as she walked the halls. Or how he’d blow off girls that said something catty about her. They weren’t dating, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to let anyone else get near her.
Today, it was unseasonably hot. I twisted my blond hair up into a bun and took off my jacket. Sweat was covering my back, making my shirt stick to my body. It was a pleasant sort of discomfort. It was the type of heat that made your breath feel sticky. The concrete pavement was a stove top, and I was frying the bottoms of my feet with each step.
I’ve always liked to walk because it gave me time to think. I really enjoyed the quiet peace of moving at a steady pace, as well as the ritual of the experience. If I could walk forever without really going anywhere—I would.
As I traveled towards the Jamesons’ house, a police cruiser pulled up beside me. I never much liked cops, they always showed up too late, or the law didn't allow them to serve justice the way I wanted them to. They always had dumb excuses. The whole world knew that my dad was beating the shit out of me, but it wasn't until I landed in the hospital that anyone was able to do something about it.
The driver in the police car rolled down the window and leaned out to stare at me. "You the new kid at the Jamesons’?" I turned my head to stare at the man. There was nothing that truly stood out to me. His hair was thinning, and his face had the forced quality about it that I’d come to expect here in Chesterbrook. Everyone was on display. But it was the calculating eyes that I recognized. They reminded me of my dad's, and it was an automatic indicator that he was not someone I w
anted to mess with.
I had a sense about these things. I could pick out a dangerous person a mile away. Gavriel Moretti thought he was intimidating, but he didn't know the half of it. The real evil came from people good at hiding it. He used his intimidation like armor, the rest of the world used it like a knife. "Yes," I answered. I kept walking, ignoring the way his police cruiser crept alongside me.
"Well, I live next door," he answered. Once more, I felt his eyes on me, and I found myself walking faster to get away from him. He had that sense of assuming power. He was cocky, and I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew that something about him was off.
"Would you like a ride home, son?" he asked. "I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Jameson don't want you out here in the heat." There was something about the way he brought up Mr. and Mrs. Jameson that made me pause. It wasn't quite a threat, nor was it considered blackmail. Either way, I got the sense that if this guy didn't get what he wanted, he wasn’t above going to others to make sure he got his way.
"I like to walk," I responded.
"Come on, get in."
I sensed that this was another one of those pick your battles moments, so I turned and got in the passenger seat. "Attaboy. I'm Chief Bright. You go to school with my daughter," he said.
That was right, that Summer chick lived next door. "I've seen her around," I said. Chief Bright was driving extra slow, and I felt his eyes on me as we went, checking me in the corner of his gaze. I looked out the window. Was this the part where he told me not to cause any trouble in his town? Did he know my dad was a public defender?
“Do you like to fish, son?” he asked instead, catching me off guard. I didn't like the way he kept calling me son. There was an arrogance about the nickname, like he was trying to assert his dominance over me. "Not really," I replied. Dad was never one to take me fishing.