Edge Of Fear (Arrow's Edge MC Book 4)

by Freya Barker

  A-fucking-gain.

  Behind me I hear the door open and Van twists his head to see who it is, but I already know. I can feel her. A small hand is pressed to my back.

  “It’ll be okay,” she says in a soft voice. “Luna says they’ll have nonstop surveillance on the place and an agent inside posing as waitstaff.”

  “I still don’t like it,” I grumble, turning toward her.

  She puts her hands on my chest when I slide an arm around her waist. Van shoves his nose between us, whining softly.

  “He’s jealous.” She smiles down at the dog’s ugly mug. “Aren’t you, boy?”

  “He’s sleeping downstairs.”

  Her brows snap together when she looks up at me.

  “Says who? This is my dog, my place, my bed. If I want him—”

  I tug her a little closer.

  “Yes, but I’ll be spending every fucking night here until this mess is over.” And I may not stop then, but I don’t tell her that. “He can watch over the house while I watch over you.”

  Immediately her eyes soften.

  “I’m gonna be okay.”

  “Yeah, you will. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

  She shakes her head, steps out of my hold, and grabs my hand, pulling me to the door.

  “Come on, let’s hear the plans so they can get back to it. We can discuss the dog later.”

  “Nothing to discuss,” I grumble stubbornly.

  She wisely ignores me.

  _______________

  We stand in the doorway—my arm draped loosely over her shoulders—watching Ouray’s SUV pull onto the road. The only vehicle left in front of the house is Sophia’s Jeep, and I realize I don’t have my bike here.

  It’s fucking summer and I’ve barely looked at my bike in the past week. That’s not like me. Normally I’d take it out every chance I get but since the ride to Moab, I’ve mostly driven around in the pickup—which is now in Brick’s shop—or in Sophia’s Jeep.

  “Wanna go for a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  I wait for her to grab her keys and the dog’s leash, and I set the alarm.

  “Ravi mentioned there’s a trail back there.” I point to the tree line behind the house. “Seeing as Paco’s property is a mile or so down the road on the other side of the curve, I figure maybe it’ll take us there. If you wanna see the progress we made?”

  She grabs my hand, lacing our fingers, and starts walking.

  “Absolutely. Show me the way.”

  I’m not sure where that came from, I don’t go for walks; I go for rides. Who the fuck am I turning into? I’ve barely been to the clubhouse, haven’t hung out at the bar, having a beer and shooting the shit with my brothers, or playing cards with the old man. Instead, I’ve been following Sophia around.

  Me.

  Nice and easy, then love ‘em and leave ‘em has always been my MO. My life is supposed to be all about the club, the brotherhood, with women only a very temporary distraction. Definitely no complicated entanglements but I sure am entangled now, and this one has complication written all over it.

  Seems I’ve hooked my wagon to a woman and the fuck of it is…I like it. I like waking up in the morning and the first thing I see are those honey-brown eyes of hers. I like the smell of her lingering on my skin all day. Hell, I even like going for a damn stroll, holding hands while her dog leads the way.

  I’m turning into someone I may not recognize, but I’m not complaining.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sophia

  IT’S BEEN STRESSFUL, the past three days.

  Going into work, pretending nothing is going on, even though I feel like I’m sitting on a powder keg that could go off at any minute.

  On Tuesday after the lunch rush, Mandy walked into my office, closed the door, and promptly burst into tears, rambling how sorry she was. I ensured her I understood, that if someone threatened my family, I’d do anything to keep them safe. It took me ten minutes to calm her down.

  Then Wednesday afternoon our new ‘employee’ started. Krystal, the agent’s name, is supposed to relieve me of my dining room duties for the dinner run, mostly greeting and seating. I still do lunch, which isn’t nearly as busy, but this leaves me free to focus more of my time on the actual management of the restaurant. At least that’s the story we’re going with and no one questioned it.

  Yesterday Luna called to give us an update. She said they’d managed to intercept another dealer the night before, after Mandy handed off the drugs. They were able to do it quietly, without flashing lights or public scrutiny. That was the plan, for the Bureau to slowly whittle away at the network while they tried to trace the money back to the supplier.

  That was the more complicated part of the investigation. The moment they make a move against any of the players on that side of the trafficking—the driver, or Clover Produce—chances are whoever is behind this setup would find out and disappear before they can bring him down. They put surveillance on Bernie and his sister, as well as on the warehouse in Farmington. Luna explained the key now is to gather as much intel as they can, see how all the pieces fit together, and then coordinate arrests, so all of the players are taken in at the same time.

  On top of all of that swirling through my head, Tse has been weird this week. I can’t quite put my finger on it but he’s pensive. Still attentive to me with touches and smiles, but just now I woke up again with the outline of his erection pressing against my ass, like I have for days, only to have him roll away the second I moved.

  It’s been almost a week since Tse touched me in any sexual way. I’m starting to wonder if he’d still be here if he didn’t feel some kind of compulsion to keep me safe. I know he feels a sense of responsibility I suspect may stem from the time I got shot. Or maybe it’s because I might be pregnant with his child. Maybe that’s what is keeping him around.

  “I can hear you thinking,” he mumbles sleepily.

  I can feel him rolling over on his side and I turn to face him.

  “Just woolgathering.”

  He runs the pad of his index finger from my forehead, down the slope of my nose, and stops at my bottom lip, pulling it down a little. His eyes followed its path and are now fixated on my mouth.

  “Why do I get the impression it’s more than that?”

  As much as I don’t want to hear the answer, I ask him the question anyway.

  “Tell me honestly; is this not working for you?”

  He props himself up on an elbow, a frown on his forehead.

  “Is what not working for me?”

  “This thing between us.”

  The frown deepens, making him scowl, and given he’s hanging over me I’m feeling a little disadvantaged. I pull myself up into a sitting position, pulling the sheet up under my chin. Van, who’s taken to sleeping just inside the door to my bedroom, lifts his head.

  “Explain,” he growls.

  “I mean, I understand. I seem to be walking under a dark cloud or something—a magnet for trouble—it would turn anyone off. I’m sure you’ve got—”

  My ramble is cut off when I’m suddenly pulled down, Tse’s weight covering me, and his eyes burning in mine.

  “Be quiet.”

  “But—”

  Then his mouth is on mine, robbing me of the ability to talk. To think.

  His hands tug up on the nightshirt I’m wearing, a rough palm finding my breast, and I arch my back, chasing the connection. This is what I missed. This hunger I feel coming from him. An insatiable need to touch, no, claim every part of me and make it his. It’s the most profound compliment I’ve ever been paid. Honest, raw, and so empowering. I’ve never felt more beautiful or desired as I do now.

  His leg slips between mine and I’m not in the least embarrassed to rock my hips, rubbing myself against him shamelessly.

  Our kiss is wet and wild, teeth clashing and tongues battling for domination.

  My hands slide in the back of the boxer briefs he’s been wearing to bed, pushing th
em down and digging my fingers in his muscular ass. The responding groan from deep in his chest reverberates through my body.

  Then he rips his lips from mine with a second groan; this one pained, and buries his face in the crook of my neck.

  “Please, Tse…” I beg, for what I’m not entirely sure, but I’m aching with need.

  “Fee, baby. We’ve gotta stop.”

  It works like a bucket of ice water.

  Planting my heel in the mattress, I heave him off me and escape the bed, ignoring Van who lets out a startled woof.

  “Fee, dammit!”

  I dive into the bathroom, locking the door before I sit down on the toilet and relieve myself. I will myself not to cry. I’m not wasting tears.

  The click is faint and I don’t have time to register what is happening before the door flies open, and Tse’s large frame suddenly fills the small bathroom.

  Suddenly I’m furious.

  “Hello? I’m on the toilet!” I yell at him. “Can you not leave me with a small shred of dignity?”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck, and no!” he yells back.

  His booming voice bounces off the tiles in the tiny space as he shoves the door shut, locking a suddenly alert Van outside. Then he folds his arms and glares at me. I glare right back until I realize I’m in a rather precarious position with my bare ass hanging over the toilet bowl.

  With as much poise as I can muster given the situation, I grab a handful of toilet paper, wipe, and tug my nightshirt down as I lift off the seat and flush. Then I turn my back and run my hands under the faucet. When I turn it off and lift my eyes, I catch his reflection in the mirror. His hands are rubbing at his face, hair standing on end, and his shoulders slump forward.

  He looks like a man on the edge.

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stay away, Fee,” he says so softly it’s hard to make out. “And believe me, I don’t want to. Do you know how hard it’s been to leave you at the restaurant in the morning and drive away, when every bone in my body wants to stay close enough to you I can hear you breathe?”

  He looks up and all anger is gone from his eyes, replaced with something I can’t describe any other way than desperation.

  A fist squeezes all the air from my chest and a deep pressure remains right under my breastbone.

  “Then why?”

  Tse

  Why?

  Oh, I know what she’s asking. I’m just not sure I have an easy answer to give her.

  The only saving grace to this whole week was coming home with Sophia at night. With the house locked up, the dog close by, and the alarm set, I could finally breathe.

  Danger doesn’t normally faze me—heck, I have two bullet wounds attesting to that—but it’s been a very long time since I’ve experienced fear so acutely. Especially for someone else, or in this case, perhaps two someone elses. This constant tingle up my spine, like something dark is out there, looming.

  I put my hands on her shoulders and coax her to turn around. Then I slide them to the base of her neck, the pads of my thumbs touching her rapid heartbeat.

  “You have the ability to make the world around us disappear, Fee. I lose myself when I’m inside you and I can’t let that happen. Not while there’s a threat out there.”

  Her expression softens a bit but there’s still a stubborn set to her mouth.

  “The doors are locked, we have an alarm, and Van, I think I’ll be okay.”

  That right there is the fundamental difference between us. She believes she can control her safety, and I know such a thing doesn’t exist. Safety is an illusion, a trap, because the moment you believe in it you become vulnerable.

  I don’t tell her that. She grew up in a family where her welfare was never in question. She sees evil as an anomaly, while I’ve learned the hard way it exists everywhere, but I’m not willing to take that sense of security from her. I prefer to shield her from that reality.

  “This is the protector in me, Fee. There could be an army guarding you and I wouldn’t be any different.”

  She snorts, averting her eyes.

  “You said you could deal,” I remind her gently. “It’s who I am, as much as the guy addicted to your pussy is. I’m him too.”

  An internal struggle is visible on her face, but I simply wait her out until she finally settles on, “Okay.”

  I press my lips to her forehead.

  “I’ll get coffee on and let the dog out. You do what you need to in here.”

  She leans back and looks at me incredulously.

  “Really? ‘Cause that’s what I was trying to do before you—”

  My mouth swallows the rest of her words in a hard kiss before I reach for the door, grinning.

  Van, who was clearly poised right outside, pushes his way into the bathroom, checking to make sure everyone is all right.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

  Van bounds down the stairs in front of me and is already waiting by the back door while I disarm the alarm. He’s a good dog; someone trained him well, although I better never bump into whomever that was because I’ll shoot them on fucking sight. It’s a miracle the animal is as friendly and well-behaved as he is after the start in life he’s had.

  He seems to have instinctively focused on Sophia and on Ravi to protect. He sits in the back seat and softly whines when we drop Sophia off at work. Then when we get to Paco’s place and he spots Ravi, he takes a flying leap from the Jeep and sticks to the boy like glue.

  That’s been the routine this week; drop Sophia off at work, get to the build and work until about six. Take the dog home, have a shower, and by seven I’m having dinner at the Backyard, either with Sophia in her office if she’s not busy, or at the bar where Mack or Emme—whoever is on that night—keeps me company.

  Last Tuesday Paco hauled my tools to the work site and I transferred them to the back of Sophia’s Jeep, where they have remained. Brick is on the lookout for something new for me. Or, as good as new. A truck with a crew cab and a shorter bed, still functional but also safe for transporting people, which I seem to do a lot more of these days. There’s no rush, for the time being one vehicle is all we need.

  By the time I pour my first cup of coffee, Van is wolfing down his food, and I just hear the shower turn off upstairs. Since that first time I made breakfast, Sophia made me promise to let her take care of the cooking. Apparently, I make a mess and I don’t need to be told my talents don’t extend to the kitchen.

  So she cooks and I take care of the dog and the dishes. Quite the domestic picture we paint. To my surprise, I’m more than comfortable with it.

  I’m about to check my phone, which is plugged in the charger on the counter beside Sophia’s, when hers starts to ring. The name Blossom appears on the screen. Not one I recognize. As far as I know her sister’s name is Bianca and she has a younger brother, whose name I don’t know, but I doubt it’s Blossom.

  I swipe the screen.

  “Hello?”

  It’s silent on the other end until I hear a woman’s muffled voice.

  “Duff! A man answered her phone!”

  “Who is this?”

  “Well, I’ll be…last time our Sophia had a man answer her phone was too long ago. It’s about time. Woohoo!” She lets out some kind of battle cry that has me move the phone a few inches from my ear. “Good voice too. Deep, solid. I’m getting good vibes. He’s got a good voice, Duff!”

  Enough of the yelling.

  “Still haven’t told me who I’m talking to,” I prompt gruffly, but that doesn’t appear to have any impact on Blossom, or whatever the hell her name is, because she giggles.

  “Ooh. Forceful. I like. It’s Blossom and Sophia is the fruit of my loins,” she clarifies. “Thirty-seven hours of killer labor but what a prize she was. She had a set of lungs on her, though, yelled the—”

  “Uh, Blossom?” I quickly interrupt, afraid I’m going to get a detailed description of Sophia’s formative years. “Let me get her for you.”

/>   I’m already heading to the stairs when she appears at the top.

  “Are you kidding? I’d rather talk to you for a bit first,” Blossom announces, as I watch Sophia’s eyebrows lift questioningly. “What’s your name? What do you do? I bet you’re large. You sound large. Duff! Sounds like our Soph snagged herself a big guy!”

  I lift the phone up at Sophia, who is halfway down the stairs, her eyes growing big when she hears her mother’s voice. She runs the rest of the way and snatches the phone from my hand. Not that it makes a difference, she could put the phone on the coffee table and you could still hear Blossom through the entire house. No need to put it on speakerphone.

  Leaving Sophia to deal with her mother, I grab my coffee and head outside, sitting on the steps of the deck. Van, who was sniffing around a tree in the back, spots me and comes to keep me company.

  Wow.

  That may well go down as the weirdest telephone conversation I’ve ever had. Her mother is really out there. Blossom and Duff, definitely not what I’d expected for Sophia’s parents. Weird, and clearly without boundaries, but loving all the same.

  Ten minutes later Sophia comes outside, a coffee in her hand, and sits down on the step beside me. I turn my head to catch her letting out a deep sigh before putting the mug to her mouth and taking a deep swallow of the dark brew.

  “So…” I prompt her when she abandons the coffee and uses both hands to give Van his good-morning rub.

  Her eyes slowly find mine.

  “That was my mother.”

  I grin at her. “Gathered as much, babe.”

  “She’s…my parents are…oh, hell. I don’t even know how to explain them,” she wails, covering her face with her hands.

  I lift an arm around her shoulders and tuck her close, her face burrowing in my chest. I do my best to hold back my chuckle, but I know I’m failing when her head snaps up and her eyes narrow on me.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “You’ve gotta admit, it is kinda funny,” I point out.

  “Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when they show up here on Sunday and park their new RV in the driveway.”