No Damaged Goods

by Snow, Nicole

  Sex before Blake was meat and potatoes.

  Clumsy college fumblings.

  Tantric gurus with bad hair at Burning Man.

  Stoner musicians who fell asleep halfway in the middle.

  I mean, I’ve had some good nights, but nothing like...this otherworldly, uncontrolled burn I can’t even put into words.

  Now there’s just my life before sex with Mr. Silver Tongue, and life after.

  All that, and then some.

  There’s nothing like being completely taken and possessed by a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, and does it so intently focused on you and only you.

  I feel wrung out in all the best ways.

  Massage is a great release, sure.

  But it can’t even compare to the hot thrill of an amazing orgasm or six. I let out a soft, sighing sound of pleasure as I nestle myself against Blake’s overheated, sweat-slick body, slipping a hand across his chest to toy with the dark bristles of hair.

  “You okay?” I murmur, rubbing my cheek to his shoulder. “That didn’t hurt your thigh?”

  He lets out a chuckle that’s half growl, the arm around my shoulders tightening. “Woman, I’d have stopped if something was wrong. You don’t need to give the old man his health checks.”

  “You’re not old.” I prop my chin on his chest so I can look at him and the lazy, sated expression on his face “I think sometimes you forget that.”

  “Old enough compared to you,” he points out.

  I giggle. “Mmm, but I’m an Aquarius. We’re all old souls.”

  Blake lets out another laugh, trailing into a groan. “Don’t even know what that means. Please tell me I ain’t gonna have to like, look up your birth chart to get to know you better or some shit.”

  “Nah. I’m not that deep into it.” I grin. “And you don’t need to know astrology to get that deep into me.”

  His eyes spark, heating, a rumble vibrating under me and through him. “Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind getting deep into you again,” he purrs in his velvet, taunting voice.

  I shiver, even as I laugh, slapping at his chest.

  “Don’t be—”

  There’s a sudden clatter from downstairs.

  We both freeze.

  And my heart stops.

  Oh, crap.

  We exchange a single wide-eyed look before we both breathe it.

  “Andrea!”

  He goes tumbling out of bed first.

  “Stay here,” he gasps. “I don’t know what to tell her, about...” He just waves a hand at me, at the mess of the bed, before diving for his closet. “This.”

  Biting my lip, I nod, pulling the covers up against me. I feel ice-cold without him, but I cling to the warm spot in the bed while he yanks his clothes back on and then goes bolting out the door, barely closing it behind him.

  I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose, too scared to breathe.

  I adore Andrea, and I really don’t want to hurt her.

  I can’t even guess what his incoherent-hand-gesture-this meant.

  Was it just a quick release of pent-up passion and attraction? Or does Blake have feelings and actually wants this to be a thing, but maybe...no, too many maybes.

  Either way, finding out that I slept with her dad could upset Andrea.

  Wanting Blake is complicated. Delicate. Kind of a minefield.

  But worth it, I think.

  He’s worth it, and I don’t think he quite sees it.

  I frown, though, as voices drift up from downstairs. Blake’s, plus another male voice?

  One I think I recognize, even if only vaguely.

  Holt Silverton.

  Blake’s brother.

  Double crap.

  This might not end well for a very different reason.

  I should probably mind my own business, but I won’t lie.

  I’m worried about Blake down there.

  And I don’t want to see all the work we’ve done on his leg unraveled when he tenses up again from his brother stressing him out.

  So I clamber out of bed and fumble into my clothes, wincing as my panties push up against me. He’s left me so sore and well-loved, well-used, that I feel like my legs have almost realigned. Whoa.

  But I manage to keep quiet as I slip into the hall and head downstairs, hovering on the upstairs railing and listening before I decide if I should make my presence known.

  Blake hasn’t let Holt through the door, even though there’s a fresh flurry of snow coming down outside, Holt visibly shivering on the doorstep.

  Blake’s made himself a wall.

  I guess Holt’s still public enemy number one right now. Something he’s clearly not happy about.

  “Jesus, Blake,” he growls. “I don’t know what you’re mad at me for now. Is it something new, or the same old shit?”

  “You tell me,” Blake snaps back in that calm, crisp way he has when he’s refusing to let his temper get the better of him. Almost the same way he dealt with Clark—asserting his authority but not lashing out when the other person can’t take it.

  It tells me Blake still cares for his brother, underneath the venom.

  Which is why I’m surprised when he says, “I’d run you out of this fucking town if I could.”

  “But you can’t,” Holt answers. “It’s my home too, and I want to help rebuild it. I want to stay. And if I’m going to, we can’t keep circling around each other like angry skunks wonderin’ who’s gonna piss up first.”

  There’s a decided twang to Holt’s voice that deepens with every word, a far cry from the smooth, purring voice he’d introduced himself with the other night. Interesting.

  Blake actually grins. “So you’ve still got some country boy left in you after all.”

  “Much as I’ve tried to beat him out of me,” Holt snarls back. “Now you want to let me in to talk or not? My sack’s about to freeze off out here.”

  “Tragic. We don’t dare deprive the good ladies of Heart’s Edge, do we?” Blake mutters.

  But he steps back, letting Holt inside.

  Holt stomps snow off his boots, shakes out the collar of his jacket, then rubs a hand through his slick black hair. He glances around, starts to take off his jacket, but Blake shakes his head even as he pushes the door closed behind his brother.

  “You ain’t staying,” he says. “Don’t get comfy. Start talking.”

  Holt just looks at him, rubbing his gloved hands together, then sighs. “Fine. I heard about the arsonist.”

  Blake’s jaw twitches. “Nobody keeps secrets in this town anymore.”

  “This town is nothing but secrets, brother. It’s like everyone knows but acts like they don’t exist.” Blake snorts. “But look, you’re hunting him down, right?”

  Something about the way Blake looks at Holt, head cocked...it’s odd. Wary. “Yeah. Something like that. It’s my job.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not Andrea’s. Wait—” Holt holds both hands up sharply before Blake can do more than bristle, baring his teeth. “My point is, you can probably work easier if someone else is keeping an eye on her. And I’d like to get to know my niece. She’s seemed pretty pissed at you lately, anyway. Mostly over Ma, but kind of over me. So kill three birds with one stone. Get her out from underfoot, get me out from underfoot, and maybe get her to forgive you with a little space.”

  “Like hell.” Blake curls his upper lip. “You might be talking country, bro, but you’re still full of too many goddamn city words. My family’s not some fancy contract negotiation.”

  “No,” Holt drawls softly. “But your family is my family too.”

  Then, suddenly, his gaze snaps to me, and I realize he’s known I was there all along.

  I swallow hard.

  He grins, tawny gold eyes glittering, making him look positively carnivorous. “Looks like your family’s gotten bigger, if my eyes aren’t deceiving me.”

  I jerk back, stumbling over words, but Blake tilts his head back, looking up at me upside down befo
re sighing. “You don’t have to eavesdrop, Peace.”

  “Sorry,” I say in a tiny voice, unsure if I should laugh or just run.

  But I peek back over the railing, then straighten and slip down the stairs, approaching them tentatively. “Hi, Holt.”

  “Hey, sugar,” he says, his grin widening as he jerks a thumb at Blake. “Sorry our last conversation got cut off by this big fucking lunk.”

  Said lunk immediately snares his arm around my waist, making me squeak again as he pulls me in close against his side right there in front of his brother.

  It’s almost crazed, jealous, overprotective.

  My heart turns over, and I stumble against him, resting a hand to his side.

  I guess that answers one of many questions about his intentions.

  “Go ahead and put your damn eyes back in your head,” he growls at his brother.

  I feel it vibrating through him into me with a little thrill.

  “I’m just being nice to a pretty lady,” Holt says, once again raising his hands, his brows arching innocently, but wow does he have the devil’s own smile.

  Not my type—I’m not into the clever guy who can make you believe fallen angels walk the earth—but I can see why women fall all over him.

  He sniffs loudly. “I guess you finally decided to do something about it before this girl pined to death. Nice.”

  I choke on a flustered sound. “I wasn’t pining!”

  “She was pining,” Holt says firmly. “And so were you, big brother.”

  “The hell I was!” Blake sputters.

  But when I look up at him...his face is almost as red as mine feels.

  It’s impossible not to laugh, burying my face in his side. This is so ridiculous, whatever it’s all about.

  “Holt, stop. You’re embarrassing both of us,” Blake says.

  “I’m just glad I didn’t have to nudge you two too hard. Thought I was going to have to play matchmaker, but you took care of it pretty well on your own.” Holt chuckles, shrugging and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, looking at Blake rather frankly. “So what do you say? In exchange for that big fat kick in the butt, I get to spend a few days with my niece?”

  Blake narrows his eyes, watching his brother mistrustfully. “Only if you tell me why you want to so bad.”

  Holt’s gaze flickers, and he sighs, his smile fading. “It’s not obvious? I’ve got no family left but y’all, Blake. Ma’s gone, don’t even know my dad’s name, and I’m not taking one of those mail-in DNA tests. So maybe I’m sick of being alone. I’m trying to actually have something that matters, instead of a bunch of bimbos and fly-by-night flings.”

  For several seconds they stare each other down. Holt almost pleading, Blake stone-still and forbidding.

  Then he just sighs. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll ask her if she wants to and make sure she doesn’t have any school projects. But if she injures you, breaks anything, or tries to feed you to the boa constrictor, that’s on you. And you’d damn well better keep her away from Clark Patten.”

  Holt’s smile transforms in an instant: broad, crooked, genuine, and suddenly I can see the faint resemblance between the brothers when Holt drops his smarmy mask. It’s totally the lopsided smile more than anything.

  “I’ll be just like her own good daddy,” he says. “Promise. I’ll make sure she does her homework and won’t feed her junk food or let her stay up too late.”

  “Hey,” Blake says. “You gotta give her some special treatment, or I can’t use you to get her to forgive me.”

  I can’t help but laugh, watching them with relief. Crisis averted, thank God.

  I’m quiet, but it’s a cozy sort of quiet that makes me feel things.

  Like I could fit in here.

  Like I’m part of this slowly assembling family, too.

  Stop reading too much into things, Peace.

  They only talk for a little bit longer, then Holt’s out the door.

  And Blake immediately goes silent, tense, his expression settling into something grim, his resigned smile fading as he stares through the small window inset in the door, watching as Holt disappears down the driveway in his sleek, snow-dusted black car.

  I frown, looking up at him, smoothing a hand over his chest. “Blake? What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m about to send my daughter into a fox’s den,” he mutters. “That’s the only real way to trap him.”

  * * *

  Even after Blake explains it, I’m not quite sure I follow.

  Even if it makes sense.

  Holt comes back into town after years away, and the fires start almost immediately.

  Holt knows all of them, the Heroes of Heart’s Edge. Their pasts, their hurts, their scars.

  He’d have reason to resent them, what with the constant battle scars between brothers left by their mother extending to Blake’s childhood friends.

  As a boy, he was in love with Warren’s sister, Jenna, and would blame Warren for not protecting her when an Army drug lord arranged her murder.

  He’s got a history of dishonesty, and he’s willing to do anything to one-up Blake.

  He tried to sleep with Blake’s wife.

  Not only does he have the technical knowledge from his construction work to be able to set fires with complex equipment, but he has the motive, too. As the newest contractor here, he’d be able to pick up work rebuilding everything he burned down, long after damaged buildings from the big museum fire run out.

  I sit across from Blake on the couch, my hands clasped in both of his as he looks at me earnestly.

  I shake my head. “But...but why? You really think he hates you so much that he’d do all of that?”

  “I think it’s more about getting the business,” Blake says, staring through the wall. “It’s just a bonus the bastard gets to use it to stab me.”

  “I don’t understand. Then why even consider letting Andrea stay with him?” I frown, squeezing his hands tighter. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “No. So far, none of the fires have hurt anybody. They’re too messy, and he left ’em that way intentionally. He wants business and to satisfy his shitty little grudge in the worst way possible, but he ain’t a serial killer, darlin’.”

  “But the clinic, Doc and Ember’s place—”

  He hangs his head. “That was the worst, coming way too close to hurting them animals. No excuse. Still, it was all small stuff that was simple to douse and easy for folks to get away from. I don’t think he’d hurt an actual person on purpose. Especially not a kid. Even if he deserves a whoppin’ for fucking up The Menagerie and making those poor critters scared.”

  He squeezes my hands back, watching me earnestly. “I don’t like it, but I need something, dammit. Some proof. Andrea’s smart. She can be my eyes and ears. Keep him busy so I know where he is at all times, and if a fire pops up while she’s with him...we know for sure it ain’t him. But if it is, then she just might find us the evidence we need.”

  “Unless you’ve got another girlfriend,” comes from the kitchen, “that ‘she’ you’re talking about better not be me.”

  Uh-oh.

  We both look up as Andrea trots through the back door, stomping her feet on the mat and pulling her hoodie back from her wild-colored hair.

  Blake and I yank our hands back like an electric shock. She just arches a brow, giving us both a cynical look.

  “Really? You two are like third-graders. God, hold hands in front of me, guys. At least you can stop pretending.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, shrugging out of her big military jacket as she meanders into the living room with a dry little smile for me. “Just so you know, you can do way better. Buuut I’m not too mad that you didn’t. Dad needs somebody.”

  “Careful.” Blake shoots her a deadly look.

  I grin, offering my hand to Blake. “Nice to have your seal of approval.”

  She just wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out playfully, while Blake sighs and slips his hand into
mine, squeezing it warmly, freely. I flush for the hundredth time at how easily he makes a show of being with me in front of others.

  We probably need to have some kind of talk soon.

  But maybe not right now.

  And Blake seems to agree because he says, “Peace and I haven’t really had a chance to work out what we’re doing yet before we talk to you about it.”

  Andrea shrugs, flinging herself down into the easy chair and sprawling out with typical teenage ennui. “Do whatever you want. She’s gonna dump you for being an asshole sooner or later anyway, so no skin off my ass.”

  Blake sighs.

  “Language,” he mutters with the air of someone who’s said it a million times.

  Andrea just rolls her eyes again, leaning forward and snagging the TV remote.

  I snort. “Hey. I’m not gonna dump him for being an ass.” I eye Blake playfully. “Maybe.”

  “Haven’t run you off yet, have I?” he returns with a warm, lingering look, his blue eyes mellowing.

  “Yet.”

  “Ugh,” Andrea groans. “Can you stop being gross? And tell me why you were talking about me?”

  Blake hesitates, sobering, then says, “Violet, I need your help.”

  Andrea’s eyes widen when she sees it’s not a joke. She goes rigid, darting a sidelong look at her dad. “Who are you, and what pod person replaced my dad?”

  “I’m serious, Andrea.” Blake groans. “It’s about your Uncle Holt.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You mean the uncle I didn’t know I had and that you’ve been a complete dickwad about?”

  “Yep, that’d be him.”

  She sniffs. “I had to turn down a ride home from school yesterday in the snow because I knew you’d be ridiculous about it.”

  “First I’m hearing of it. You should’ve told me, girl,” he growls, his brow furrowing. “See, this is why I don’t trust him. He does shit behind my back. And I need you to help me catch him at it.”

  Andrea’s annoyed expression turns puzzled. “At what? What’s he doing to crawl up your butt so bad?”

  “At figuring out if he’s the arsonist who almost burned down the damn Menagerie,” Blake says grimly. “And keeping him from setting more fires.”

  “What!” She bolts forward in her chair, leaning in, staring at him wild-eyed. “No way.”