Branded

by Scarlett Finn

  He touched her face. “He told you his sister was sick and you believed him. I’m sorry he was a prick.” But Tag wasn’t sorry about being a prick himself. “Stick with me, kid. We have some shit going on around here, but we’ll get it figured out. As long as you’re close, you’re safe.”

  Talking to Tag could be infuriating, he wasn’t giving her any valid explanation for why he was scamming Archer. The more he gave her the brush off, the more she became sure Archer was owed the twenty grand.

  But as long as he wasn’t talking about that, Nya tried to get information on her next cause. “What’s happening with Sizzle? Did the cops get any evidence?”

  “They’re not telling me much, the fuzz are bastards.”

  And Tag was probably on their radar, she knew his men had come close a few times to getting themselves into trouble with the authorities. It wouldn’t surprise her if Tag was doing his own investigation rather than relying on the official one.

  What Nya didn’t want to do was forget the most important person. “Jamie,” she said and her hand loosened as her eyes fell to the brunch plates. “How long did she hold on?”

  “Never made it to the hospital,” he said and to his credit, his voice softened. Clutching for her, he rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “They hit her hard.”

  Yes, they did, because she’d seen the blows. “How did she die? Did they at least…? Did they put her out of her misery?”

  He shook his head. “They beat on her, she never regained consciousness.”

  After what they’d done to her that might have been a blessing. “She didn’t deserve to die that way,” she whispered. “You should’ve seen it, Tag, what they did to her… No one would deserve that.”

  “It can’t have been easy for you… to see that. It must have brought back memories about—”

  “No,” she said, snatching her hand away. “This is not about me, it’s about her and the evil bastards who hurt her… I want to hurt them.”

  Letting her anger show, she waited for him to react. Tag had always been more interested in manipulating her life so it fitted what he thought it should be as opposed to supporting her in what she wanted. Yes, he made concessions for her, and he protected her, but she didn’t ever ask him to fight her battles.

  “No,” he said, getting stern and rising to stand while keeping his fists on the table, so he took on the air of a disapproving father though he was only a few years older than her. “I’ve seen that look in you, and I’m telling you to forget about the girl.”

  But Nya had no intentions of forgetting that night. “How can I do that? You didn’t see what I saw,” she asked. “You weren’t there.”

  “And you’re going to forget that you were,” he demanded. “Yorkie, I know what’s best for you. Haven’t I always looked out for you?” He had and she couldn’t deny that. “Going after those guys, it won’t make you feel better. Revenge never does. Talking to the cops won’t mean shit either, even if they found anyone and got you into a court they’d just fuck you over, they always do.”

  As much as it frustrated her, Nya had known this would be Tag’s reaction to her need for payback. “So I’m just supposed to sit here drinking my coffee and forget Jamie? She died because of us. Those guys that busted into Sizzle, they were looking for you!”

  “This is my fault?” he asked, taking a stride away from the table. “Do you think I wanted them to go in there and fuck up my club? I don’t need eyes on what I do, Yorkie. I don’t need the cops tearing the place apart looking for motive. They want to know why those guys were there and the first place they look is at me!”

  The cops weren’t the only ones who wanted to know why so many people were pissed off with her oldest friend. “I wouldn’t give you up,” she said. “The guys outside were already dead. I saw what they were doing to Jamie and… I wouldn’t give you up.”

  His shoulders sagged and understanding overcame him as he approached her to caress her face. “I wouldn’t have given you up either. People don’t understand our bond, where it comes from, but it’s real, Yorkie. You know that. I’m sorry that your friend had to be hurt, but… you did the right thing.”

  Protecting herself and protecting him was the right thing even though it cost Jamie her life? It didn’t feel like the right thing. Reliving the sounds and pictures from that night made her nauseous again. “I have to sit down.”

  Tag took her arm and led her over to the table to put her back in her chair. An odd thought slipped into her mind that Archer would’ve carried her to the table, ‘cause for some reason, he picked her up like a ragdoll any time it pleased him.

  Tag pulled his chair up beside hers and rubbed her forearm. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll look after you.”

  “What about Sizzle? I should get back to work and—”

  “Work will be there when you’re ready,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Take care of everything, except Archer. “Why would Archer set you up?” she asked, returning to the subject he’d avoided. “He gave you the information you asked for. Do you really think that he double dipped? That someone paid him more than you did to set you up?”

  He stopped touching her when he slanted his body away and slouched against his backrest, then shook his head. “No… But I wasn’t paying twenty-five grand and losing three guys.”

  “Twenty-five?” she asked. Archer had told her twenty. One of the men was wrong or Archer was taking a pay-cut.

  “I lost three guys that day. I had to pay their families, had to clean up the mess, that’s not cheap.”

  “So you do owe Archer the money?” she asked, guessing it might be his default to argue with another alpha, because deferring to them might be the end of the world. Fighting for the sake of fighting made no sense to her. Tag didn’t answer the question, which she took as confirmation. “You can’t screw him out of his money. He did a job. He deserves to get paid. You don’t want to make an enemy of him. If he knows as many people as he says he does…”

  Funny that she’d said something similar to Archer about never winning against Tag. It wasn’t that she thought Archer would win, but he’d piss off Tag enough that her friend would fight back. They’d keep lashing out at each other and end up in a stalemate that benefited no one.

  “Archer won’t start shit, he’s smarter than that.”

  Being too cocky could be dangerous. “And you’re smarter than ripping someone off. Pay him and get him off our backs.” Tag stood to bow over the table to retrieve the coffee pot. Nya didn’t appreciate being ignored. “Pay him or I will.”

  But he wasn’t affected by her claim. “Where are you gonna get that kinda money?” he asked, filling their empty mugs.

  His arrogance was contagious. “You have that kind of money and if you have it, I can find it.”

  Tag snorted. “You wouldn’t steal from me.”

  “It’s not stealing if it’s rightfully owed,” she said because she really would just take the money to Archer if she had to now that she knew it was due to him. “Please, Tag, just pay him, and get him out of our lives.”

  Getting him out of their lives wasn’t her motivation. As she’d said to Archer, if she got him his money then she intended to call in his promise to her. Maybe not right this minute, Tag had something going on that she wanted to help him out with, but eventually.

  If she got Tag to give Archer his money then Archer would owe her one and it would be good to know she had him in her back pocket for when the time was right.

  nine

  Nya knocked on the door before she could chicken out. All the way over here she’d been thinking up excuses as to why she should delay showing up at his apartment. She didn’t have to be here after all, she could take the money that she’d acquired from her oldest friend’s safe and run with it. Keep it as danger money. Compensation for what she’d endured.

  But she couldn’t.

  This mission wasn’t about he
r and it wasn’t about Archer, not entirely. The door opened and she held her breath when Archer came into view. His tongue was exploring the back corner of his mouth, contorting his face like he was trying to locate a stuck piece of food.

  When he saw her, he froze then became deadpan. She didn’t expect him to be pleased to see her; he wouldn’t be impressed with the way things went down at Tag’s. She wasn’t exactly impressed about that herself.

  After brunch yesterday, Tag had done some business, and they’d eaten dinner in the apartment. Tag liked to spend money and he liked to eat out, so the fact that they spent so much time inside proved to her that something was going on, but he still hadn’t revealed to her what it was.

  Impatient and in need of freedom from Tag’s place, she’d set her mind to solving the Archer problem that Tag continued to dismiss, and that’s how she’d ended up here carrying twenty thousand dollars in her purse.

  “What do you want, Squirm?” he asked, tightening his grip on the door and moving deeper into the space between it and the frame to restrict her access and view of his apartment behind him.

  Digging a hand into her purse, she pulled out the bundles of cash and presented them.

  “What’s that for?” he asked without touching the money.

  Glancing this way and that, she felt rather conspicuous holding such a wad of cash in this shady hallway that was illuminated only by the splinters of the remaining afternoon light breaking through the dirty window at the end of the corridor.

  “It’s your money,” she said. “Twenty grand.”

  His stoic expression made him impossible for her to read. “And what do you want for delivering that?”

  “Nothing more than you’ve already agreed to,” she said, shaking the money at him. “Leave Tag alone and…”

  “And?”

  “Help me get the bastards who killed Jamie.”

  In her panic about coming here, it had never occurred to her that he might refuse the money. God only knew what state her relationship with Tag would be when he found out she’d followed through on her word about taking the money Archer was owed.

  Going back to Tag to return his money and admit he was right, would be difficult. But it wouldn’t be half as difficult as coming to terms with letting Jamie’s attackers go unpunished. Alone, she’d be no match for seven hooligans. She couldn’t even fight off the two who had pinned her to the wall.

  Instead of shooing her away, Archer snagged her shoulder to pull her inside. Giving her a nudge toward the dining table, he closed the door, bolted and chained it, then sauntered up behind her to reach around and steal the cash from her hands.

  “Take a seat,” he said with a knowing, but subtle, amusement in his voice.

  That was the table with the eyebolt in the floor beneath it. The one she’d been locked to while he burned his mark into her wrist. “Thanks,” she said, wiping her moist hands together. “But I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said and sauntered off toward the kitchen, counting his money. “Your boyfriend just let you walk out the door with this? What did you have to do to persuade him to part with twenty grand?”

  He tossed the money on the kitchen counter. The bundles scattered haphazardly and she wondered how he could be so casual with money he’d claimed to desperately need.

  “Why did you lie to me?” she asked, moving across to fold her arms and lean on the breakfast bar, which was opposite where he was filling the coffee machine.

  Inside the kitchen, to the right, was a door beside the fridge. As it was the wall shared by the bathroom, she guessed it led to a closet, and the sink was beside that door. The coffee machine was next to the stove and another counter to the left with a hutch over it, and cupboards beneath, enclosed the kitchen space.

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “I lied to you. No big deal. I bet plenty of guys feed you bullshit all the time.”

  “When they’re trying to get into my underwear, sure. But this wasn’t that type of lie. Creating a fake, sick sister, why would you do that?”

  “For sympathy,” he said. The coffee began to percolate and he pulled out mugs and sweetener from an overhead cupboard. “Got your attention.”

  She couldn’t deny that. Her perspective on his need changed when he’d revealed his purpose for the money. Taking into account what an intense night that had been, their whole relationship had shifted and emotions had run high, so she hadn’t thought to question him, not after what they’d endured together.

  “So what do you really need it for?” she asked. “Drugs? Hookers?”

  His half-smile told her she was way off base. “I know enough about the scum in this town that I could blackmail my way into any score or any woman’s bed. I don’t need money for that kinda crap.” He pulled an unopened packet from the cupboard and held it up. “You want a cookie?”

  She shrugged. “Are they vegetarian friendly?”

  Dropping his gaze to the packet for half a beat, he didn’t make any attempt to read it. “Knock yourself out,” he said, tossing the pack to her as he went about prepping the coffee.

  Reading the packet info gave her something to do, but she hadn’t missed what he’d said before offering the cookies. “Any woman’s bed?” she muttered. Glimpsing the symbol she needed to see, she proceeded to open the packet. “You can’t blackmail your way into any woman’s bed.”

  “Sure I could, if I put my mind to it.”

  Carefully taking a cookie from the open packet, she held it between her thumb and forefinger while pointing her pinkie and making smug eye contact with him. “You couldn’t blackmail your way into mine.”

  Satisfaction spread on his face as he came over to fold his own arms on the opposite side of the counter. “Why would I need to when you’re obviously up for it?”

  Her triumph withered and her cookie hand fell to the counter without her taking a bite from the crumbly sweetness. “You’re insane, Archer, if you think—”

  “But if you needed an excuse, and wanted to convince yourself that I’d made you fuck me against your will, blackmailing you would be easy.”

  “There’s no fucking way—”

  Rising, he got closer to lower his volume. “Don’t want anyone to know where your boyfriend is, do you?”

  Man, he was good and she hated him for it. Nya had taken him to Tag. Far as she knew, Archer had kept quiet about Tag’s location, but that didn’t have to last. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said because she knew there were plenty of Archer’s associates who wanted to know.

  “And I won’t,” he said, his gaze sinking to her cleavage. “If you sit your smokin’ ass on that table and open your legs wide for me.”

  Did he mean it or was this a game? What she didn’t understand was the zing that accompanied every beat of her heart. The flutter in her chest was matched by a pulsing awareness between her thighs and a lightness in her belly. That was excitement and arousal dulling her sense and heightening her need to explore the sensations zipping beneath the outer layer of her skin.

  “Archer—”

  “Go on,” he said, nodding behind her. “Sit, Squirm. Sit like a good little girlfriend.”

  Was she supposed to be his girlfriend or Tag’s? He did like to refer to Tag as her boyfriend, a fact that couldn’t be farther from the truth. But Tag wasn’t the man on her mind now and trying to tell herself that she hadn’t thought about giving herself to Archer was a lie.

  During their early days together, she hadn’t known what to make of him; he’d hurt her, and shown no concern for her wellbeing. But he was powerful, a man intent on getting the job done, and there was something intoxicating about his focus.

  “If I don’t,” she murmured, pressing her breasts together when she rested her forearms on the counter to lean toward him. “You’ll tell everyone where he is?”

  Slanting his upper body an inch closer, she met the light press of his kiss. “Willing to take the risk that I won’t?”

  This wasn’t about Tag. T
his was an excuse, just like he’d said, they were playing a game that allowed them to take the final step that they’d resisted so far. Being with him on the table that she associated with negative memories may allow those images to be erased from her mind’s eye.

  Easing her weight to her feet, she swayed, letting him wait to learn her intentions. Backing away, a single step at a time, she angled her route until she came up against the side of the surface.

  Using her hips to shunt his chair aside, she hooked her hands over the edge and eased herself onto the table-top.

  Deliberately, she lowered her chin and parted her thighs as wide as they’d go.

  Slowly, he straightened up. The fire in him inspired the smolder in her and when he began to round the breakfast bar, she swung her legs, waiting for him to take his position between them. “Hair down. Tits out,” he commanded before he’d got to her.

  When she hesitated, he stopped walking. Either he had no intention of touching her until she complied or he took her hesitation as an indicator that she didn’t want to be intimate with him, which stopped him in his tracks. That integrity made her fingers curl tight until her nails dug into the underside of the table.

  This guy had saved her from rape. Twice. Much as they were implying he was coercing her now, his willingness to give her room proved he had no intentions of forcing her into anything.

  With a smile, she took the clip from her hair and shook her locks free. His jaw clicked in appreciation and that goaded her on. Whether it was her obedience or his secret fascination for long dark hair, either reason worked for her. He wanted her and man, that got her hot.

  Not so long ago she’d lived as his prisoner, now he was standing four feet from her, fixated on her hands as they ran through her hair and down her body, over her breasts to the hem of her top. Breathing in, she pulled it up, arching her body to display her breasts in the most alluring way as she revealed them to him.

  After she tossed the top to his face, he grabbed it to cast it aside and restarted his journey toward her while she unhooked her bra. Before she could slip it from her arms, he’d snagged her knees and lifted them to wrap her legs around his hips and slant her body back with only his arms around her to hold her up.