Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)

by Jen McLaughlin

  Well, the game was almost over, and she was still alive.

  Imagine that.

  It was the bottom of the ninth, with a tied game, bases loaded, and Ortiz had stepped up to the plate, stretching and swinging his bat in circles. The Phillies’ Ken Giles lined himself up, eyeing Ortiz across the expanse of the field. Even from here, I could feel the tension between the two men. “Damn.”

  Heidi bit down on her lip and leaned forward. “He’s good, right?”

  “Giles or Ortiz?”

  “Ortiz.” She waved a hand. “I can see Giles is good. I’ve been watching him off and on all night.”

  I forced back a grin at her attitude. “Some say so, yeah.”

  “And you?” She darted a quick glance at me before turning back to the game. “Do you say so?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ortiz swung and missed, making Heidi let out a string of curses. As they lined up for the second pitch, she pressed her lips against the rim of her beer, murmuring something under her breath. I thought I heard the words please and hit it, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I chugged back the rest of my draft beer. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like baseball, you sure are—”

  Ortiz made contact with the ball, and it flew out past the third baseman. The crowd went wild, and Heidi leapt to her feet, completely ignoring me to whoop loudly. It was a double, so two men made it home, putting the Red Sox officially in the lead.

  She turned to me, a bright smile on her face. “That means we won, right?”

  “Yep.” I pointed at her beer. “Finish that, and we can head out if you want. I’ll put you out of your misery.”

  She glanced at the pitcher on the field. “But it’s not over yet. He’s still out there.”

  “Yeah, but I know you don’t like baseball, and I wouldn’t want to torture you needlessly,” I teased, smirking. “Unless you want to stay.”

  “You know I do,” she said, her voice curt. She chugged back the last of her beer and tossed her empty cup at me. “And I’d like a refill, please.”

  I cocked a brow at her and raised my hand. A guy nodded and turned to get us another beer. “Damn, darlin’. You’re gonna drink me under the table tonight.”

  “That’s because you’re drinking to blend in but still staying sober, so you can keep me safe.” She tossed a grin at me. “I’m drinking to get light-headed and a little bit stupid, because I’ve got you to keep me safe. I’m not used to having someone at my back. It’s a treat to let loose and forget for a little while.”

  I gripped the arms of the chair. “Forget what?”

  She stilled, then turned to me slowly. She shook her head, and her blond hair blew a little in the breeze. The sunset framed her face, shadowing it slightly, but not so much that I couldn’t see the raw honesty in her expression. Or miss out on how pretty the dim lighting of the dusk make her eyes look. “Being alone all the time.”

  My chest tightened. I knew that feeling all too well. I didn’t have many people I trusted to have my back, either. I had Scotty and Chris—but now it looked like I only had Chris. And my childhood had been nothing like Heidi’s.

  While she’d grown up and made something of herself, from having nothing, I’d wasted away all the love and care my mother had raised me with. I’d thrown it in her face and taken what she’d worked so hard to give us—a stable, safe environment—and turned it into something tarnished and ugly.

  But that’s what I did.

  I ruined things.

  “You’re not alone anymore,” I said, locking gazes with her. “You have me.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “For now.”

  “Yeah.” I shifted in my seat and pulled out some cash and handed it off to the guy who brought her beer without bothering to glance at him. Then I gave her the beer, and she held on to it tightly with both hands. “For now.”

  She stared out at the field, not glancing my way, and took a big swallow of beer. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She’d been homeless—actually lived on the fucking streets—and had come out squeaky and clean in the end. She owned a bar and was seemingly happy.

  How? How had she done it?

  “You’re staring at me.” She finally looked at me again, but this time it was with a frown. “Stop it.”

  I held both hands up. “Well, sorry.”

  “It’s not okay,” she snapped.

  “I’m not allowed to admire your beauty in the sunset?” I tugged my hat lower. “Sorry, darlin’. I didn’t know that was off-limits.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You’re not looking at the sunset or waxing poetic about how pretty my eyes are in the waning light.”

  Cocking a brow, I drawled, “Actually . . .”

  “You’re thinking about what I said back there. About me being alone on the streets.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it—about why it happened or how. I shouldn’t have even told you.”

  “All right.” I rested my left ankle on the opposite knee. “Funny, though. I don’t remember asking a question about it.”

  “You didn’t need to. It’s written all over your face.”

  I had to be more careful, then. I didn’t make it a habit to let people see my thoughts, and she shouldn’t be an exception. Even if it felt like she was. “Sorry, darlin’. I hate to disappoint you, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about that little moan you made when I kissed you in the alley, and the way you clung to my biceps as I tasted you. And how much I wanted to taste you again.”

  If possible, her cheeks went even redder than I’d see them go before. “Is that so?”

  “That’s definitely fucking so,” I said, grinning.

  She settled back into her seat. Cheering broke out in earnest, and people stood. The game was over. “Well then, sorry for misreading you.”

  “Maybe you did.” I tugged on a piece of her hair. “Maybe you didn’t.”

  Heidi stiffened again. “Which is it?”

  “I’ll leave you to figure that out on your own.” When she started to stand, I placed a hand on her thigh and pressed down. “Sit tight, darlin’. Let the masses clear out first.”

  She stared down at my hand, her thigh hard underneath my fingers. “Okay.”

  “How old are you?” I asked. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I didn’t even know. I could guess, but that wasn’t the same.

  “Twenty-four.” She side-eyed me. “You?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  She nodded. “I’d guessed around there.”

  People pushed out of the stadium, talking loudly and bumping into one another. I didn’t like that many men at my back, where I couldn’t see them. I’d rather wait. I didn’t take my hand off her, even when the first raindrop hit my skin. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever been to a baseball game before, in all your twenty-four years?”

  She sipped her beer, watching the emptying field. The crowds. The sky. Anything but me. “It’s raining.”

  “Then we’ll get wet,” I said dismissively. “I’ve never run from a little bit of rain on a cool spring day, and I’m not about to start now. Answer the question.”

  “Lucas—”

  “Heidi,” I said right the fuck back at her.

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Whatever. I’ve only caught bits and pieces on the TV behind the bar. I didn’t care for it.”

  I caught her chin and turned her beautiful face toward mine. I’d never get sick of seeing her small, pert nose, or the gentle curve of her cheekbones. A raindrop landed on one of those cheekbones, and I swept it away with my thumb. “And now?”

  “And now.” Her tongue darted out to lick a drop off her red lips. It made my cock harden, but even more important, it made something else inside of me grow warm. Something I didn’t want to recognize. “I still won’t like it at the bar, but it was fun tonight. Here. With you.”

  That funny warmth she always brought out in my veins spread over my body again. I leaned in, so close I c
ould smell her soft peach scent, and she held her breath. “I liked tonight, too. With you.”

  Her lids drifted shut.

  I didn’t need more of an invitation than that.

  Closing the distance between us, I pressed my mouth to hers, savoring the moment. She leaned in to me, all softness and sweetness, and I took what she offered.

  And for once, I didn’t take more.

  I traced my tongue over the seam of her lips, gently, and she parted them on a sigh. Permission granted, I slid my tongue in the warm sweetness of her mouth. She melted into me even more, one hand holding on to her beer, the other latched onto my leather jacket. Everything about this moment, this woman, screamed something unique.

  Something new.

  Something terrifyingly real.

  Pulling back, I swallowed hard and stared down at her. Her eyes were still shut, and her rosy cheeks were charmingly innocent. Something neither of us was.

  Her lashes drifted up, and when she caught me staring, she bit down on her lower lip. “What are you thinking right now?”

  That she was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful. “I—shit.”

  The skies chose that moment to open up, pouring buckets of water on us instantly. I cursed under my breath and ripped my jacket off, tossing it over her head like an umbrella. She laughed and set her beer down on the ground, holding my jacket in place. The rain drenched through my shirt in seconds. “I thought you didn’t mind a little bit of rain.”

  I stood and held my hands out to my sides, laughter escaping me because, fuck, it was pouring. “Does this look like a ‘little bit of a spring rain’ to you?”

  Still laughing, she stood, too, wobbling on her feet a little. “Sure does.”

  I shook my head like a dog, splattering her with wet drops. “Then, here, have some more.”

  “Hey, that’s—” I did it again. She squealed and leapt back, knocking over her beer. “Oh, crap.”

  When she bent to pick it up, I shook my head and grabbed her elbow, straightening her back to her full—but short—height. “The rain will wash it away.” I held my hand out to her, still grinning like an idiot. “Come on. Follow my lead.”

  She hesitated, looking at my hand as if I held out a gun or something even more lethal. Then slowly, she lifted her arm and slid her fingers inside mine. There was no denying that this moment felt heavier than it seemed, as if by taking my hand, she said something more.

  Something I wasn’t sure I fully understood. I latched onto her and didn’t let go. Didn’t even want to. We made it out of the stadium in silence and were soon on Yawkey Way again. I was so lost in her, in the moment, that I almost missed it.

  Almost missed what was staring me right in the face.

  Halfway past the huge bay window, I froze. Inside the dingy bar, I saw the one thing I didn’t want to see. Blinking the rain away, I stared through the window, heart thudding loud enough to drown out the crowds around us. My stomach hollowed out, then squeezed tight, and for a second I thought I was gonna hurl.

  Because sitting in a booth, clear as day, was my brother, Scotty. And he was with Bitter Hill guys. But if he was in league with the men who’d attacked Heidi, then . . .

  No. It couldn’t be true.

  “Lucas?” Heidi asked from beside me. “Are you okay?”

  I could feel her eyes on me, but even so, I didn’t look away from Scotty. I couldn’t. Why was he here, with them? Scotty laughed, and money changed hands. After the Bitter Hill lieutenant tucked the cash into his pocket, he shook hands with Scotty, then tossed back a shot of vodka. Damn it all to hell, Chris was right.

  Scotty couldn’t be trusted.

  When I didn’t answer, Heidi stepped closer and peeked inside the bar, too. “What’s wrong? Is someone you know in there?”

  I stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “No. I’m fine.” I rolled my shoulders and turned away, catching her hand again. The last thing I needed was Heidi seeing Scotty and asking questions. We might not be twins, but we were clearly brothers. If Scotty was dangerous, there was no way in hell I’d let him anywhere near Heidi. I looked her dead in the eyes and said, “I thought I saw someone I used to know.”

  She licked her lips and glanced over her shoulder as I dragged her toward the curb. “Okay . . .”

  Lifting my arm, I hailed a cab. One pulled up, and I glanced at the driver to make sure he wasn’t a threat. He looked innocent enough. Opening the back door, I motioned Heidi in first. Once I settled in, I told the driver my address.

  She shivered and huddled over herself. “God, it’s cold out there.”

  I forced a grin for her benefit, but it was hard. “The cold never really bothered me. It’s the heat that usually gets to me. There’s no escaping it.”

  “I love heat. Heat is my best friend.”

  I dragged a hand through my soaked hair. “Says the girl who wears shorts in winter . . .”

  She laughed. It bubbled out of her. “Touché.”

  Her hair was plastered to her face in wet, snaky tendrils, and her eye makeup ran down her cheeks in black streaks. I’d just found some concrete evidence that suggested my brother couldn’t be trusted, and it hurt. But there she was, still hugging my jacket to her head, looking as if she’d walked through a tornado and lived to tell of it. I still hadn’t shaken off that moment we’d shared in the stadium, and my heart thudded. Even with all that . . .

  I’d never heard, or seen, anything more beautiful than Heidi laughing in my whole life. And I didn’t think I ever would, either. I didn’t know what to do with that.

  So I did, and said, nothing.

  Not even when we got home.

  CHAPTER 12

  HEIDI

  The next night, I juggled a baking dish of lasagna in one hand and my phone in the other. It had been ringing for a good ten seconds, and Lucas hadn’t answered yet. It was close to five o’clock, and I had no idea what time he’d be home. Ever since our pseudo-date, after which he’d escaped downstairs the second we’d walked inside the building, I felt like we needed something to get through this evening in each other’s company.

  So, I’d decided to cook dinner for him.

  Also, I didn’t do idle well. And that was all I’d done all day.

  Surprisingly enough, I’d found all the ingredients I’d needed to cook the meal from his cabinets and fridge. It made me wonder if he cooked himself. If he did, when had he learned? How? Maybe his mother taught him before she’d died, or maybe he’d learned as a necessity for survival, since he obviously lived alone.

  Or did he simply enjoy it?

  I had no idea, but I had so many unanswered questions about him that I could fill a novel with them. Questions I’d more than likely never get the answers to. Yesterday, we’d barely spent more than a minute talking after we’d gotten home from the game, but I’d briefly mentioned I liked drinking tea when I was stressed-out. He’d left while I’d been changing into dry clothes and came back with three different boxes for me twenty minutes later. I’d thanked him, and he’d gruffly reminded me that he didn’t need any “fucking thanks.”

  Then he’d gone downstairs to work on cars again.

  And that had been that.

  The ringing stopped, and the phone on the other end got shuffled before clanging against something hard. Somewhere on the other end of the line, someone cried out and cursed in a Boston accent. And he sounded as if he was in pain.

  Lots of it.

  “Son of a bitch, shut your mouth, Ian,” Lucas growled.

  I licked my lips. “Uh, hello?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” More shuffling, and the phone got picked up. “Who is this, and why the hell are you calling me?”

  “It’s me,” I said, before mentally face-palming. I hadn’t given him my number, so he probably didn’t know who I was. I had his only because he’d scribbled it down on a piece of paper before he’d left yesterday morning, along with instructions that if I left the apartment, he’d drag me back by my hair. “Um
. . . Heidi.”

  “Oh.” His voice softened slightly. “What’s up, darlin’? Is something wrong?”

  “No. I just—” Someone cried out in the background again, and I gripped the phone tighter. “What was that? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he said impatiently. Something clicked behind him, and the screaming silenced. “Just doing something at work. What do you need?”

  “Are you torturing someone?”

  “I’m a car parts salesperson.” He paused. “Why the hell would I be torturing someone, darlin’?”

  I closed my eyes. “Lucas . . .”

  “Do you really wanna know?”

  I thought about it. “No.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Why are you calling?”

  I shook off the millions of questions I had. “I wanted to know when you’ll be coming home tonight. I cooked dinner, and I didn’t want to have it ready too early . . . if you were planning to come home at a reasonable time, that is. And if you wanted to, you know, eat with me.”

  “Dinner?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “Are you going all domestic on me?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I frowned. “And if I am? What of it?”

  He chuckled. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll be home around six, so if you’d like to hold dinner for me, I’ll be there.”

  So he wouldn’t be avoiding me again. “Okay.” I paced across the living room floor. “Also, can you bring home a few things, if I text them to you?”

  Sighing, he muttered something under his breath. “This is what being married feels like, isn’t it? No sex and all orders.”

  Oh, we might not have had sex, but we’d had that one incredible moment in the kitchen together the other night, followed by those kisses at the stadium yesterday. The ones that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about. “I wouldn’t know, seeing as I’ve never been married.”

  He laughed. “Well, you had parents at some point, right?”

  “No. I mean, I lived in foster homes, and then later on in life . . . on the streets, as I already mentioned yesterday.” I bit down on my lower lip, wishing I could take that back. Why had I told him that? He didn’t need to know my life history. This wasn’t a real relationship. Ugh.