by Stacey Lynn
I needed an ice pick to crack it. Or a chain saw to slash through it.
Instead, I got broody, stiff ,and silent, Finn driving us for just over two hours out into the middle of nowhere.
After Daemon’s idea earlier, I’d had enough time to say goodbye to Faith and Olivia and pack up my meager belongings for Brayden and me, all while Finn or Ryker watched me with one of their eyebrows raised, cocked in impatience.
I should have been more upset about it than I was.
I didn’t know if it was the shock or anger about the situation or the simple fact that I knew Moscoe could do anything. Why wouldn’t he burn my house down when he knew I had run from him?
He wasn’t going to get me, though. I would do whatever necessary to protect my kid and myself from falling under his control.
Which was why I packed and headed toward a cabin with little argument.
The sun shone into the cabin of the truck, heating my legs, and I watched as we drove through narrow two-lane highways lined with trees that had to look spectacular in the fall.
I could only imagine the changing colors.
Or the smell of bonfires.
Fortunately, Brayden had crashed from his sugar high from breakfast shortly after Finn had stopped for gasoline and cheap, gas station food, and he was happily zonked out in the back of Ryker’s Super Cab while Finn and I stewed in our silence.
Me because I’d just lost everything I owned besides what I had brought with me to Minnesota.
Finn because…who in the hell knew why. He was mercurial. He changed his moods as often as other people peed.
One minute he was shoving his tongue down my throat and the next he was pushing me away.
Although not always, not exactly with the way he’d gripped my hand earlier—and protected me from Ryker, of all people.
But I could see pain in Finn’s eyes when he looked at Brayden. Or when he called him “the kid.” Something had hurt Finn in the past.
And it was more than just violence.
It had everything to do with the distance he kept between himself and Brayden, polite indifference, but his silent scowls and tenseness around my son spoke volumes.
The truck began to slow and I flashed Finn a look as he pulled into the parking lot of a small grocery store.
He nodded toward the store and simply said, “I’m guessing we’ll need food and shit.”
His throat was dry from hours of not speaking.
I sighed and looked to Brayden huddled in the backseat. “I’ll run in,” I said.
It’d be faster for me to go grab a load of groceries if I was by myself, and I always hated waking Brayden.
Finn made a sound and shot me a look—all of which said no way in hell.
It was almost impressive how much he could communicate with a look and a sound. The man didn’t really need to speak at all.
“Like hell,” he finally muttered and opened his door.
I did the same and climbed out of my side, then moved to the back and gently shook Brayden’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy. We need to do some shopping.”
Brayden’s groan made me want to smile.
What boy wanted to be woken up from a nap to shop? Had it been another moment, I would have smiled, thinking of how similar he really was to Byron. And how it always made me laugh that grown men were the same as little boys in so many things. It must have been ingrained in their DNA to despise a store.
But I didn’t have time for that, and Finn still stood there scowling at me, so I shook off my smile.
After a little bit of prodding, I had Brayden on his sleepy feet and doing his typical zombie-walk through the small parking lot.
“Where are we?” I asked, looking around. The town seemed slightly larger than Jasper Bay and the main road—which I assumed we were on—was lined with antique shops and liquor stores. But the traffic seemed steady.
“Just outside Brainerd. Lots of tourists come through here, though, so it’s easier to hide.”
I nodded my understanding and grabbed a cart.
It didn’t take long to walk through the store, throwing everything in I could think of to feed three people for who knows how long. But I tried not to think about why I was there, what I was doing, and what had happened.
I hadn’t even told Brayden his house had burned down.
He’d lost his entire life history—photo albums, toys, clothes…
God…would he ever see his friends again? His teachers or his school?
He wouldn’t. I knew it already, but a part of me had hoped we could return.
But without a house to go home to…
Tears burned the backs of my eyes when I looked at Finn.
He seemed to understand, because the next thing I knew, he had his hand at the back of my head and he pulled me closer to him. His lips brushed over my forehead and his grip in my hair tightened.
“Hold it together. We’ll figure it out.”
I sniffed and closed my eyes, fought back the tears, and when I opened them, I reached down and grabbed ahold of Brayden’s hand.
“Mom?” he asked, his little eyes big round circles.
“I’m good,” I told him and decided we needed sugar. Chocolate. Lots of cookies and massive amounts of cake mixes and homemade frosting.
Because if anything could cheer me up it’d be baking.
And drinking. But I hadn’t seen the alcohol yet.
“Let’s go buy some cookies.”
His eyes lit up. “Can I pick?”
“Whatever you want.”
His little fist pumped and a smile spread wide on his face as we turned the corner to the baked goods aisle.
“He always that easy to please?” Finn asked, his accent somehow thicker when he tried to be quiet.
My knees shook from it. I’d become so used to him, but it seemed different now. Us walking through a store, looking like a family on vacation to anyone who probably looked. Finn had even removed his leather cut when we left town and stowed it in the truck.
“Boys are easy,” I said, smiling as Brayden stood in front of a row of packaged cookies, his finger tapping his lips as he tried to decide which package to get. “Food and video games and you’re pretty much their hero.”
Finn harrumphed, and I stopped when he kept walking toward Brayden.
Before I knew it, he bent down to whisper something in his ear.
Brayden turned to me and grinned, a smile full of mischief and excitement, and even with the circumstances, I couldn’t help but return it.
Then they both piled their arms full of cookies—all brands, all types, everything they could possibly manage—and walked back to me, both of them grinning, and dumped it all in the cart.
I looked down at the overflowing basket and back up.
Finn simply grinned. “Add in two more things and it’s the same for men.”
I didn’t have to ask what the two extras for men were. By the way his eyes raked down my body when he said it, even though he was teasing, heat trickled throughout my veins and my thighs trembled.
Jesus.
Running for my life and I wanted to screw an Aussie.
I was seriously messed up.
“Come on,” I finally said and turned the cart around.
Twenty minutes later, the groceries were piled in the back of the truck and Finn was slamming the tailgate.
“Last stop,” he said and pointed to the liquor behind us.
Yes.
I grinned. “Good idea.”
“Feel the need for a drink?” he asked and began walking.
“I figure I’ve earned it,” I told him quietly, tugging Brayden’s hand so we caught up to him.
The liquor store was small but bright and I followed Finn while this time he was the one who grabbed a cart and loaded it with three twelve-packs of different types of beer, and then followed him when he went to grab the whiskey. As he headed toward the checkout, I stopped him.
“Uh-uh,” I said and turned th
e corner down the wine aisle.
I stopped and stared at the choices.
Not thinking, I did the same thing Finn had done and began piling bottles of Riesling and then Merlot into the cart.
When I looked up, Finn had a hint of a grin on his face and he looked at the bottle in my hand.
“You weren’t kidding.”
I waved the bottle. “Am I going to be stuck with a man in a cabin in a place I don’t want to be with nowhere to go for an indeterminate amount of time?”
“Probably.”
“And is the man going to spend most of the time talking to me in grunts and scowls?”
His smile dropped and his lips pursed. But I saw the hint of that smile travel to the outer edges of his eyes when they crinkled.
I took that as a yes and put the bottle in.
“Then you get it,” I said and walked to the counter.
There was an older gentleman behind the corner, thin but long gray hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He smiled happily at us as we made our way toward him and laughed quietly when he saw our cart.
“Looks like you’re ready to party,” he said and began ringing up our purchases.
Finn stayed silent, all hint of a smile gone when the man began speaking.
I shot him a look, and smiled at the cashier and nodded.
He looked uneasy as Finn stood in front of him, silently intimidating the man with his size and pinched expression.
“Lovely family you have, too,” he said. “Get lots of families in the area, lots of things for the kids to do.”
The man flashed me a small smile but my own had long since disappeared.
Next to me, Finn turned into a mountain of granite. “Just ring our shit, yeah?”
I blinked in surprise at his low rumble.
Next to me, Brayden tugged on my hand to get my attention.
“Mom?” he asked, his voice quiet, his eyes fixed on a bowl of suckers. “Can I have one?”
“Sure you can!” the cashier said, but his voice was now slightly shaky and his hand trembled when he slid the bowl in front of Brayden.
“Thanks,” he muttered and chose a sucker wrapped in blue. Then he looked up at Finn. “You want one, too?”
“They’re for kids,” Finn bit out, and I watched as Brayden’s eyes turned sad and he looked away.
Fuck Finn, I thought.
I pressed my lips into a tight smile, though, and said nothing.
I hated this.
Hated how one wrong thing could change the atmosphere around Finn and everyone felt it.
My hand went to the back of Brayden’s head and I gently combed through his locks as he popped the sucker into his mouth.
“What do you say?” I finally asked him once Finn had paid and was ready to go.
“Thank you,” Brayden mumbled toward the cashier.
He smiled and lifted a hand. “Have a nice visit.” He quickly looked away from Finn, who was still glaring at him like he wanted to blow the guy to pieces.
“You didn’t need to be an asshole,” I hissed at Finn once we were outside.
Finn glared down at me and my anger rose even more. “Should have kept his mouth fucking shut.”
I took that as my cue to do the same thing.
And then I decided that Finn wasn’t worth all this crap. He wasn’t nice unless his tongue was in my mouth, and even then it came filled with the taste of regret.
I just had to survive.
Trust the Nordic Lords MC to handle Moscoe, keep Brayden and me safe, and then I’d start figuring out what in the hell to do with my life.
And figure out how to stay away from an angry but sexy Australian while we were shoved into a small house with nothing to do except get on each other’s nerves.
At least I had my wine.
11 Finn
I didn’t speak after we left the liquor shop.
Meg was pissed. I understood it. I’d been a dick for no reason and probably scared the shit out of her kid.
But that damn word the man said…family. It rattled around in my head until it made me want to puke.
Or get wasted.
I had never had that—none that was any good, anyway. I had no fucking clue how to be part of a family.
I wanted Meg. Wanted to feel her legs wrapped around me, her lips around my cock, and her tongue all over my body.
But she came with shit I had no clue how to handle.
Being trapped alone with her in a cabin was going to be hell on my self-control.
The cabin wasn’t much, and I heard Meg sigh with what I imagined to be disappointment when we pulled up the dirt drive.
It was a dark brown, simple, two-bedroom cabin that Bull Masters had used for hunting trips and the occasionally family trip back when he was alive and when Olivia was growing up. Men in the club used it freely, so it didn’t surprise me when Daemon said Liv hadn’t sold it.
But it wasn’t anything pretty to look at.
The grass needed a serious mow job and the gutters were in need of repair.
At least it’d give me shit to do while we were here.
“This is it?” Meg asked. Her hands were in her lap and I watched as she fidgeted with her fingers and then cracked her knuckles.
It was the first thing either of us had said to one another in the twenty minutes since we’d gotten in the truck. Even Brayden seemed to sense the tension between us and stayed silent in the backseat.
“There’s a lake,” he said, speaking up for the first time.
“Clinker Lake,” I told him. And for some reason, I kept talking. “There’s a fishing boat in the boathouse if it works. And a dock that probably needs to be put in, but I’ve heard there’s good fishing here.”
“Sweet,” he murmured, almost at a whisper. From the rearview mirror, I saw his eyes glaze over with something I couldn’t describe.
Possibly because as a kid, I’d never understood the feeling of wonder or excitement.
I only knew death and disappointment and pain.
“Let’s go check it out.” Meg hopped out of the truck as she said it and opened Brayden’s door. I was right behind them, walking toward the front door.
The screen door creaked and I added another thing to fix to my increasingly growing list.
The smell of musty air hit me as I opened the door and let Brayden and Meg enter, but once we walked through and flicked on the lights, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.
The plaid country-style furniture was old but in decent shape. Based on the photos on the walls, I figured no one had been here much since Olivia’s mom had been murdered, compliments of her own husband and Olivia’s dad, Bull.
God, the guy had been a prick.
But family photos still hung on the walls and the entire place was decorated for a family home.
At least it was clean, even if it was small.
Meg and Brayden walked around the small place while I went back out to the truck and unloaded the food and bags from earlier.
“It’s small,” she said when I set the food on the counter. “But it’s not bad.”
She shifted on her feet and her eyes darted to a large wall of windows along the back of the living room.
It overlooked a small lake, but the house was nestled so deep in the trees you could barely see the water.
“There’s only two rooms,” she said and then looked at me. “I can sleep in the small one with Brayden.”
I thought of her curled uncomfortable all night long in a small bed, snuggled up next to her kid.
Then I thought of her in the larger bed with me. Legs wrapped around me as she slept, her breath against my shoulder…
I shook my head and nodded toward the living room. “I’ll take the couch. You take the rooms.”
“But—”
I raised a hand and stopped her. “Don’t. It’s safer if I’m out here instead of tucked in the room at the back. It’s good.”
Her lips pursed like she wanted to argue
and then thought better of it. Slowly, she nodded toward a bookshelf next to the television.
At least we had cable.
“I’m going to put this shit away,” I said and felt like a dick. Again. But it was either ignore her or rip her clothes off. She tempted me at every corner and then reality smacked me in the face when she brought up her kid. “You two stay close to the house and stay out of trouble.”
She scoffed and spun on her heels.
Leaning forward, hands gripping the counter, I called her name.
“What?” she snapped, not looking back.
“This shit isn’t easy for you,” I said, and watched as she slowly turned around. “I get it. And you’re doing fucking great. But this isn’t easy for me either.” I closed my eyes. God, I wanted to tell her just so she’d understand.
“Finn.”
Jesus. She said my name softly, that one word rolling off her pink tongue as she looked at me like she actually gave a fuck…
I shook my head. “Don’t. I’m not going to apologize for being an ass, just know it’s not you.”
She laughed but her softness was gone. “Right. It’s not me, it’s you.”
When she put it that way…I nodded. “That’s all I got.”
“Then maybe we should make some rules while we’re here,” she said and walked close to me in the kitchen.
“Which are?”
“I’ll keep Brayden out of your hair. I’ll keep him quiet, and whatever it is about him that pisses you off so much, I’ll try to avoid that. You keep us alive,” she said and leaned in closer. Her lips came close to my ear and I gritted my teeth together. Damn, she smelled good. And she tasted better. I knew that, but the memories of the few kisses I’d stolen from her flashed in my head when her breath hit my ear. “And you keep your damn hands off me. Don’t touch me again, don’t kiss me again. Just…stay the hell away from us.”
I blinked and my shoulders tightened. “Fine,” I gritted out and looked away.
That was a mistake, because I turned just as Meg began walking away.
She hadn’t given me a damn thing except for one small kiss that was a mistake.
But something about her smile, the way she seemed strong even when terrified, the way she just called me out on my shit, tugged at me.
I found myself fighting the urge to follow her. I wanted to lift her by the waist, throw her over my shoulder, and haul her ass to the back room where I’d have her screaming my name.