THE BOY I GREW UP WITH

by T I J A N

  She laughed. “Yeah. Right. I wish. I was doing some of those mommy Pilates. Anything to help with the birthing, you know. I’m worried how stretched I’ll be.”

  “Are you trying to induce yourself?”

  Another laugh. “Yeah. Right. I’ll be like that closer to the date, but it’s too early.”

  Wait—what?

  “When’s your due date again?” I should know.

  I was a horrible friend. I couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t I remember?

  “We have another month. Mason wants to do a C-section, but I told him…” She stopped. “Heather?”

  I wasn’t being carted out for a surprise birthing present. “Mason didn’t ask for me to fly out, did he?”

  “Wait. What?”

  I knew. I didn’t need her to ask Mason. I knew.

  That fuckhead. Channing lied to me.

  “Hey. Um…” I motioned to the lady next to me, mouthing, “I’m sorry” as I undid my belt and got up.

  That fuckhead.

  Fuckhead

  Fuckhead.

  I was going to kill him.

  No, I was going to find him, then kill him, then bring him back to life, and maybe I’d kill him again. He knew damn well what he was doing.

  He was getting me out of the way.

  “Are you okay? Heather?” Sam was still on the phone.

  Shit. “Sorry, Sam.”

  I grabbed my bag from the top and started for the front.

  “Miss!” A flight attendant stepped in front of me. “Miss!”

  “I have to go.” I was past her, going back up the ramp.

  “Heather, are you okay? Where are you?”

  I laughed, wincing at how bitter I sounded. “I’m leaving an airplane I was put on to come and visit you as a surprise.”

  “What?! Really?”

  Another grimace. She sounded so happy.

  I tucked the phone in the crook of my neck, gentling my tone. “Yeah. Listen, I have to go.”

  “The plane is taking off?”

  “No. I’m off the plane.”

  “What? I thought you just said—”

  “I know.” I was past the flight attendants. Both saw me and shook their heads. “Listen, Sam. I’ll call you later. I’ll explain everything, but I’m not coming.”

  “Oh. Oka—”

  I hung up on her. I would text her to apologize, but I had a suitcase to try to stop first.

  “There’s an emergency…”

  I started there, and I got a denial from the first employee, then a denial with a smile, then a denial with a forced smile, then a long pause, and then two phone calls until I was exiting the airport with my luggage.

  Channing had given me a ride to the airport, so I dumped my stuff in the closest taxi and gave the driver my address.

  I was officially off the concussion-healing regimen.

  I was going to kick Channing’s ass.

  48

  Channing

  We were going over last-minute details when Moose nudged me. “Wrecking ball incoming.”

  I glanced up and swore.

  Heather was striding toward us, coming in fast and hard. Those eyes—they’d melted me this morning, but they were furious now. As for the rest of her, she’d done her research. She was dressed for the part: black pants, black shoes, a black long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a fancy braid, falling down her back. She had a flashlight in hand, though it wasn’t on, and I was eyeing the other weapon she held when Lincoln asked, “Is that a taser?”

  “Shit.” I took off running.

  One guess who she meant to use that on.

  “Channing!” She took off right after me.

  We were meeting with half of Traverse’s men about how to corner Richter’s group. Being chased by Heather, no matter how fun, wasn’t something in those plans.

  Over the next hill, down half a mile, were the last of those loyal to Richter. They weren’t expecting us, and they didn’t know they’d been cut off from the rest of the Red Demon charters. Traverse had gotten permission to bring us in on the fight, which had taken two weeks, but we were finally moving in on them.

  Traverse was going to take care of Richter’s men, while I got Richter. I wasn’t planning an execution, but I wouldn’t say no to some torture. It was what it was. This was what we did to protect our town.

  “Channing!” Heather yelled after me.

  I couldn’t keep running. She’d alert the Red Demons, so I pivoted and ducked, wrapping my arms around her waist just as she careened into me. I picked her up in one motion, throwing her over my shoulder.

  Before she could tase me, I warned, “Richter’s just over the hill. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  I felt her pause, then her elbow slammed into my back.

  “Oomph!” I rubbed my hand over her ass, enjoying that. “I see you missed your flight.”

  “You’re such a dick.”

  We were far enough away from both camps now. If she hollered a little, the Demons wouldn’t hear. My guys might, but they couldn’t hear a normal conversation. I set her in front of me and nudged her back behind some trees with my hips.

  “Hey.” She stepped back, her hand on my chest. “Stop.”

  Not far enough. The guys could see us, or they could see our shapes. There was a full moon above. I wanted to make sure no shadows played out over the path.

  We moved behind another tree before I was happy.

  “You have GPS on me?”

  She must’ve. She was prepared for what we were going to do.

  “Becca told me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Stalker’s not supposed to know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Congo could cut her off tomorrow and she’d still know your plans for the next ten years.”

  True. And disturbing.

  Running my hands down Heather’s arms, I pulled her close, just enough to feel her. I rested my forehead on hers. “So…” I smirked. “How was your trip?”

  “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

  “I was being cautious.”

  “You lied to me.” She punched me in the chest, harder this time. “You fucking lied to me.”

  I fought myself to keep from groping her—not the right time and place, but my hand flexed on her hip. I could…yes. I moved in, guiding her back against a tree, and I stepped closer so we were in full alignment.

  My dick was happy to see her too. I closed my eyes at the touch.

  “Channing.” She sighed and rested her head against the tree. Her fingers grazed over me, and I bit back a groan. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came out here.”

  “That’s obvious.” I dipped my head down, nibbling her neck. She shuddered under my touch. That only made me want to do so much more. I was struggling here.

  I wasn’t a Neanderthal. I was a professional, and crew business sometimes felt like it was a profession.

  But I was hungering for another session like we’d had yesterday, except I wanted our entire goal to be total destruction.

  Heather was worth more than a quick and silent round behind a tree.

  “Hey.” She grabbed me lightly through my jeans—and squeezed.

  I bit back a moan. “I was just talking myself out of a quickie.”

  She laughed, some of the anger fading from her face. The lines around her mouth softened. “Like that’d fly with your guys here. You might think about it, want it, but you and I both know you’d never do it.”

  “You give me too much credit.” My insides were honing in. I was becoming sharper, more alert, predatory even. Heather was my prey, but not really. She was my partner, my equal. She was my other half, and an explosion of blood soared to my junk.

  I was ramrod hard.

  “Holy shit, Chan.” Heather looked down, even though it was dark. “Scale back on whatever you’re thinking.”

  This was going to be painful. I grimaced. “We have about thirty seconds before one of the guys comes and gets
us.”

  I forced myself back. I felt like I was peeling off a second layer.

  Heather grew somber. “I want in on whatever you’re planning.”

  I figured, needing to adjust myself. “I was planning on delivering Richter to you. It was going to be an ‘I’m sorry I lied to you’ present and bribe at the same time.” I studied her. “Would it have worked?”

  “No.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “A guy had to try.”

  “I’m going in with you.”

  I nodded. “I know.” I was resigned.

  Her eyebrows went up. “You know?”

  I loved this woman. I loved her because I knew her inside and out. “The second you showed up here, I knew there was no persuading you to go back. I’m not even going to try, but you have to give me credit for trying the ultimate way of keeping you safe.”

  Her heated look melted. “I know.” She moved toward me, her hand slipping under my shirt and resting on my stomach.

  I bent down to meet her lips.

  Living this life and loving this woman, we were going to go round and round constantly. A part of me hoped we’d never stop. And still not hearing anyone coming to get us, when Heather started to pull back, I tugged her close, my mouth deepening over hers.

  We made out until someone stepped on a twig, snapping it.

  Lincoln emerged from the darkness. Coated in camouflage paint, his face was grim, but his teeth flashed white as he spoke. “It’s time.”

  49

  Heather

  They were beautiful to watch.

  Channing put me at one of the watch points with night-vision goggles. I looked on as they all moved at once. Channing’s crew and Traverse’s men, all descending from high up on the valley, circling the lone house below.

  Richter’s guys were up partying. They had music going, though it wasn’t blaring, and a bonfire in the yard. I could almost smell the booze.

  I counted eight on the outside, and at least three moving in the house.

  My stomach should’ve churned at what was going to happen.

  This was how they lived, the Red Demons. This was also the door where the Demons were on one side, the crews on the other. Nights like tonight, they had to go through that door, enter that world, and I hoped they would come right back out unscathed. That was my hope, but watching, my hand tightened around the goggles, I knew not everyone would.

  I wouldn’t.

  Richter had hurt me. He’d intended to hurt Channing, and who knew where he would stop. Because of that, I was okay with this.

  Because of that, my stomach was rock hard.

  Because of that, there was no uncertainty about what we were doing here.

  If I had stayed on that plane, I would’ve been in a whole different world. I loved my friends, but they lived in a privileged world. They were normal. Happy. Healthy.

  They were whole.

  Being here, sitting on this hill with these goggles, watching an attack in progress—this wasn’t the world my old friends were part of, not anymore.

  This was Channing’s.

  And as the first group slipped over the chain-link fence, I stood.

  This was mine.

  It was time.

  CHANNING

  Lincoln, Traverse, and I went together. We were the first round. We were all the same body type—lean and fucking fast. We were the best fighters, and moving as one, we came in from different directions.

  Up and over the fence.

  There were nine in the backyard: eight by the fire and another behind the shed. I approached it, so he was my guy to take down. We needed to move quietly, quickly, and as a unit as much as possible.

  Lincoln saw my approach.

  He flattened himself against the garage, then tossed a rock to land at the ninth guy’s right. When he looked, I slipped up behind him and struck. Arms wrapped around his neck, I stuffed a shirt into his mouth and pulled. I held as tightly as possible, my body almost wrapped around him like a spider. We fell as he started to lose consciousness, and once I felt him slip into unconsciousness, I let him go, kicking his body off me.

  It happened so quickly he’d barely struggled.

  The first was down. The rest wouldn’t be so easy.

  I joined Lincoln. We moved to the other side of the garage.

  He held up an arm. I took the signal, and we reversed positions as if reading each other’s thoughts. He stepped out. I moved in behind him, and he stepped back. If someone had been watching, they might’ve seen only a small motion in the darkness, but these guys were all drinking. It’d been two weeks since they’d tried to take Heather. They’d let their guard down. We had to strike while it remained that way.

  I was the farthest inside, leading the charge, and I peeked around the corner.

  Traverse had been waiting. I saw him on the other side of the house, having run a circle around the back. He nodded at me.

  There were eight between us, four of them on the other side of the fire. Even if we moved fast, they’d see us. They would alert the others, or they could.

  If we tried to lure one away, or two, we still ran the risk of them alerting everyone.

  We had to strike at once, go as fast as possible.

  I tensed, knowing Traverse was waiting for me to go first, but I held back. I wasn’t sure why. It was now or never, but then I heard a soft, “Hey.”

  Lincoln and I both jerked around.

  Chad, Congo, Moose, and three others were lining up behind us, all trying to flatten as much as possible against the side of the garage.

  “What are you doing here?” Lincoln whispered.

  They weren’t supposed to come until we had the front contained. Then we were going to all go in the house as one.

  “Heather radioed. She said if we all took care of the eight out here, we could maintain the element of surprise.”

  Fuck.

  “What?” Lincoln asked.

  Moose just shrugged, grinning at me. “Take it up with your woman, but it made sense.”

  He was right. We had to move fast, faster now since there were so many that could be discovered.

  “We each find one guy. Go fast and go hard. Take him out, and do it as quietly as possible.”

  They all nodded. They were ready to go.

  I peeked around to see if Traverse was still there. He was, and he mouthed, “What?”

  I went. There was no reason to wait now.

  We ran.

  HEATHER

  There was no sound.

  I saw the whole thing—how fast each one moved, how efficient every step was. They darted around the sides of the buildings like ghosts, floating at a breakneck speed toward their target.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  They each took a person down, and I waited to hear a shout, a yell, but there was nothing.

  Shivers went down my spine. Goosebumps rose over my skin.

  They looked supernatural. They looked as if they had grown up training for this one moment, and they’d performed it perfectly. There were no mishaps.

  I knew the music helped cover their attack, and I knew those men had dulled senses. The bonfire probably helped blind some of them, so they couldn’t tell what was happening—not quickly enough to do anything about it at least—but it still looked orchestrated, like a masterpiece.

  Channing had told me to stay up here.

  I was to keep watch, that’s what he’d said, but I knew it was to keep me out of the way and safe. He needed a sound mind. If I’d been down there, whether I could handle myself or not, it’d weigh on him. He’d be distracted, so that was done.

  Now the guys were hauling the men away, hiding the unconscious bodies on the other side of the garage. Once they’d finished, they advanced on the house.

  There were three other scouts positioned around the territory, and I hadn’t been put in one of the corners. Channing had picked a random spot, so I knew what I could see was c
overed by two of the others. I felt a restlessness inside of me.

  He didn’t want me to go down there.

  Go.

  The command was simple and quiet, but authoritative inside of my head. Maybe it was my subconscious, or hell, maybe it was just me rebelling. I didn’t want to admit I was breaking ranks, but I did. I started down the hill.

  I shouldn’t go down.

  He told me not to.

  It’d be dangerous.

  I was still going. In fact, the closer I got, the more right I felt about it.

  I was supposed to be down there.

  I was meant to be at Channing’s side for this, whatever this last confrontation would be.

  By the time I hit the fence, there was no stopping me.

  Grasping the chain-link, I began to climb.

  50

  Channing

  “Brent!”

  Richter was yelling from far inside the house.

  We moved in, all of the guys taking positions. Moose signaled to one of Traverse’s guys, and when I got the nod, I started forward. Traverse and I were supposed to go through the two side doors together, entering on both sides of the house. We’d done our surveillance. There were two others inside, one in the kitchen and another down in the basement. Three different men spotted.

  Richter was yelling. We heard his footsteps. He was coming from the back.

  “Channing,” Moose whispered.

  I looked at him, looked where he signaled. Lincoln was there with a gun. His face was grim, his eyes blank as he handed me the 9mm.

  I took it.

  As soon as the gun shifted to my hands, Lincoln reached behind him and brought another one out. He took up right behind me, and we waited.

  There’d be a final signal, the sound of an owl hooting, and we’d go in.

  Moose raised his hand. Three fingers.

  Two.

  One.

  Both men did the owl hoot, and I stepped inside.

  Two steps in, Lincoln was next to me.

  Traverse was on the other side of the living room.