Salvage (Savages and Saints Book 3)

by C. M. Seabrook

  Maybe there’s another man in her life. Someone she hasn’t mentioned. She brushed off the topic of Nolan’s father, but having a kid together connects two people in a way I can’t even fathom.

  Standing, I return to the stove and stir the sauce, hating the knot of jealousy forming in my chest.

  “You haven’t said much about Nolan’s father.”

  When she doesn’t answer, I glance over my shoulder and catch her chewing on her bottom lip, brows drawn down.

  “Is he still around?” Way to be subtle. But if I can get a name from her, maybe I can do a little digging.

  “Damon–”

  “I know. Sorry.” I put my hands up in surrender. “I just want to know more about you. Help me fill in the blanks.”

  “What blanks?”

  “The last eleven years.” I drain the pasta, then add it to the sauce.

  “I’ve told you everything.”

  She’s told me practically nothing.

  After scooping out pasta onto a plate, I set it in front of her. “You told me about Patty and the bakery, and a little about Nolan.”

  “There’s not much else.” She takes a small bite. I can see the tension building in her the more I push. I know I should stop, but I need more than she’s giving me.

  I sit down beside her, placing my own plate in front of me, and take a bite. “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Who?”

  She knows exactly who I’m talking about, but for some reason she’s being elusive.

  “Nolan’s father.”

  “Why?” She lowers her fork, and stills.

  “I just want to make sure he’s not going to be trouble.”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” she mutters, half under her breath.

  “Does he at least pay child support?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because you matter.”

  Something flashes in her eyes, but then it’s gone, and her voice is clipped when she says, “You want to know about Nolan’s father? Fine, I’ll tell you. We were both young and stupid, and I thought I loved him. Turns out he was just like every other guy on this planet, a douchebag who cared more about what his friends thought about him than my feelings.”

  She loved him. I don’t hear much after those words. They’re like a goddamn knife to the heart. Because I never let myself care about anyone but her, never dreamed that I would love anyone else. But she’d moved on, and not long after she left.

  “So, no, he’s not part of my and Nolan’s life.”

  “Then he’s an idiot. For not knowing what a good thing he had.”

  Silence. It stretches between us. I wish I could read her thoughts, because there’s something that looks almost like guilt that makes her turn away from me.

  We eat the rest of the meal without much conversation. When I reach to take her plate away, she grabs my wrist and holds it, her gaze trained on where our flesh meets, but she says nothing.

  I wait, breathing her in, needing so much more than I know she’s ready to give.

  “He wasn’t an idiot,” she finally says.

  I’m still holding the plates, her small hand wrapped around my wrist, and I feel like the fool, because I know she’s talking about her ex. And there’s affection in her words. So many damn emotions swirling in her eyes.

  I hate the man, instantly.

  “If he left you, then yeah, he is an idiot.”

  She sighs, blinking up at me. “I’m the one who left.”

  “Okay.” I stay still, knowing there’s a confession coming.

  “I ran away, thinking it was for the best, because I was...” She glances away.

  “Scared,” I offer.

  “No. I was terrified.” She drops her hand and places it in her lap. “I didn’t know I was pregnant until afterward. It was too late, then.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “To tell him.”

  “He doesn’t know about Nolan?”

  “No.”

  “Shit, Lorelei.” I place the dishes on the counter and try to come up with some reason she would keep a secret like that from someone. “Did he abuse you?”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. I just...I couldn’t...”

  “A man deserves to know his son.”

  “Not every man is meant to be a dad.”

  “True, but you should have given the guy a choice.” I can’t believe I’m defending the schmuck, maybe even pushing her right back into his arms. But I’d want to know.

  She’s gone quiet again. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m not sure he’ll forgive me now.”

  I drag a hand back through my hair and sigh. “It’s not really about you though, is it? It’s about him and his kid. Even if the guy pulled the short end of the stick from the gene pool, I’m sure at some point Nolan is going to want to know him.”

  “Yeah,” she mutters, lost in her thoughts. “I know.”

  “So, tell me how ugly this dude is so I can feel a little better about myself.”

  “What?” She glances up at me, brows drawn down.

  “Nothing.” I pull the key out of my pocket and unlock the cuff from the chair.

  She holds her hand out, hoping I’ll unlock the one on her wrist.

  “Not a chance, sweetheart.” I cup her elbow and pull her to me. “I’m starting to enjoy you like this.”

  “I thought you said these weren’t recreational.” She pouts, but I can see the small smile she tries to hide. “And I’m pretty sure this is against the law.”

  “I’ll let you take it up with the chief of police in the morning.” I give a small tug so she has to take a step towards me, her chest brushing against mine.

  “I still can’t believe you’re a cop. All the trouble you used to get into.” She shakes her head.

  “Things changed after you...” I swallow hard, not wanting to think about the dark time after she disappeared. But she was honest with me, and I’ve never really opened up to anyone about why I joined the force. “I knew Farkas hurt you. Knew the guy was into some bad shit. So, after my brothers kicked my ass for moping around for the better half of a year, I put in my time at the academy and came back. I didn’t realize how deep Farkas’ pockets were, or how crooked some of the guys on the force were until then.”

  “Another reason I didn’t go to the police.”

  “I’ve learned who to trust over the years. And I promise you, none of my men are dirty. And I know the men I’m working with in Harristown. They want Farkas behind bars almost as much as I do.”

  She looks doubtful. “Just bring Nolan back safe.”

  I press my lips against her forehead, hard, and nod. “I will.”

  Her hands curl in a ball around the hem of my shirt. “I wish things could have been different between us.”

  My heart thumps in my chest. I pull back and cup her face, searching for even the smallest morsel of hope. But I find only regret.

  “You’re here now.”

  One side of her mouth pulls up. “Only because you have me handcuffed.”

  Her words, although meant to be funny, remind me that as soon as I get Nolan back, she’ll be gone.

  “It’s getting late. You should get some sleep.”

  She doesn’t argue with me, but I feel her hesitation before letting me lead her into the bedroom. I take off the cuff, and she rubs her wrist.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes in the bathroom. But these...” I hold up the handcuffs. “Stay on.”

  She rolls her eyes before shutting the bathroom door on me. I hear her muttering from the other side, but it doesn’t have the same venom as it did earlier. I’m not even sure she’d run now if I kept the cuffs off. But with what I’m about to give her, I can’t take that chance.

  I pull out the bank envelope from my pocket and unfold it. It’s a check for the full sum of the money I found in the coffee can, plus interest and a little extra. It’s more money than she needs to start her own little bakery anywher
e in the world.

  It’s also her ticket out of here.

  So why the hell am I thinking of giving it to her?

  Because I made a promise. Because it’s not mine. Because there’s a part of me that needs to know if she stays, it’s for the right reason. Because I need to know that whatever happens she’s taken care of.

  Eleven damn years. It should have been enough time to erase the brand she’d seared into my soul. But I know now, it’ll never go away.

  One touch, one kiss, and she’d managed to fill all the dark, empty corners that had never known peace since the day she left. As much as I want to demand her surrender, her complete submission to me, I know the truth–she is the one who conquered and possessed. I was—am—hers, completely and always.

  And this time, losing her will destroy me.

  Chapter 8

  Lorelei

  I rub my wrist that’s already slightly chaffed from the handcuffs, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  “You need to tell him,” I mutter, barely recognizing the woman who stares back at me.

  Broken.

  Imperfect.

  Messy.

  This isn’t the life I asked for.

  God, what I wouldn’t give for the chance to do it all over.

  I’d never give up Nolan, not for anything. But there was a time when I wanted so much more, when I believed that more was possible. That love was possible.

  I lean on the sink, fingers curling around the cold ceramic bowl, trying not to wonder if maybe I can have this...a chance to start again.

  A chance with Damon.

  A real family.

  I shake my head and turn on the tap, splashing cold water on my face. The only thing I should be focusing on is getting my son back. But I realize I have a weird calmness about tomorrow. It hits me hard that I trust Damon to protect him.

  I tug my jeans off and fold them over the tub, then do the same with my shirt and bra, before slipping into the oversized t-shirt Damon let me borrow.

  He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when I open the bathroom door. When he glances up, he shoves something in his pocket before standing.

  “God, Lor,” he says, his dark eyes raking down my body. “You’re killing me.”

  “What?”

  He shakes his head and sighs. “Nothing.” Cuffs in his hand, he moves towards me with purpose.

  “Are you really going to lock me up?”

  “Would you rather I slept in here with you? Because that’s the only other possibility.”

  I’m not sure if it’s a serious question, so I hesitate long enough for my mind to wander through the possibilities.

  He groans. “Come here.”

  I take a step forward and let him cuff my wrist. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “If you hadn’t crashed my truck into a tree earlier, I’d say you were right.”

  “I’ll pay for the damages.”

  He grunts. “I don’t want your money, Lor. I just want you and your boy safe.”

  Our boy, I want to say.

  God, I’m such a coward.

  “Lie down,” he orders, nodding at the bed.

  I cross my arms. “I’m not going to take off. Even if I did know how to drive your dumb truck, I don’t have the money to pay Farkas–”

  “Lorelei.” There’s a heaviness to his voice mixed with frustration. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving this room without putting these cuffs on you. So, unless you want to stand here all night arguing with me, I suggest you lie down.”

  I hold his gaze, stubbornly lifting my chin at him, arms still crossed so he doesn’t have access to my wrists.

  “No.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I almost cower back. But as menacing as he is, I know he’d never hurt me. At least, not physically. My heart is another matter.

  “Last chance.” His movements are subtle, but I feel rather than see him inch closer, his head dipping towards mine.

  My gaze falls to his mouth, a temptation I didn’t resist earlier, but need to now.

  I swallow, and the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. “All right. Fine. You don’t have to be so bossy.”

  “I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so stubborn.”

  “It’s not stubbornness to not want to be locked up.” I sit down and tuck my feet under the covers, then hold my arm out dramatically.

  “Even as you submit, you’re still arguing with me.” His hands are strong, fingers callused, but he’s gentle as he locks the cuff to my wrist and the other one to the bedpost.

  “I’m not submitting. I think someone has been reading a little too much FSOG.”

  “FSOG?”

  “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  He chuckles. “Never read them.”

  “What planet do you live on? At least tell me you’ve watched the movies.”

  He shakes his head and leans closer. “But if it’s something you’re into, then maybe I need to.”

  My mind races with all the possibilities, but I shake my head, answering truthfully. “I’m not into the whole BDSM thing.” At least, I don’t think I am. It’s not like I’ve had any experience with it, or anything else other than my vibrator in the past decade. God, how pathetic is that?

  Damon’s breathing is heavy, his pupils dark. “What are you into?”

  You.

  Only you.

  Danger, my brain warns.

  “Not being locked up, for starters.” I try to keep my voice clipped, but can’t help the way my body trembles when his hand brushes my arm.

  “Do you need anything else before I go?” His breathing is heavy, but he pulls back.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ll be in the living room. I have some calls to make.” He turns off the light, hesitating by the door. “Call me if you need me.”

  God, I need him. Need everything he’s offering.

  And as I stare up into the darkness, minutes passing, I start to wonder why I’m being so stubborn. Why I’m so afraid of taking a chance on him.

  Because he already burned me once.

  I can hear Damon walking around, hear him talking to someone, his voice low, his words hard.

  “Just make sure you get the fucker,” he growls out. “I want him taken down. There’s no room for error.”

  I try to roll over, to get comfortable, but I can’t. My hand is already going numb from the odd angle it’s at. Plus, I can’t stop thinking about his offer. Having him beside me would be a lot better than being cuffed to this damn bed.

  It would also complicate things more than they already are.

  When I finally feel the heaviness of sleep pull at me, dreams take over my mind.

  I can feel the sun on my face. Beams of sunlight distort the images, but I know I’m in the middle of the lake. Strong, familiar hands wrap around me.

  Damon. He’s young and old at the same time, but it doesn’t seem weird, just normal.

  “Lorelei.” He murmurs my name, a sound that makes my chest squeeze with emotion.

  Nolan is there, and I can count every one of the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He laughs when the fishing pole he’s holding bends with a catch. I smile as Damon helps him reel it in.

  My heart swells.

  “We can have this,” Damon says, reaching his hand towards me. “A future. Just trust me.”

  “I do.” I try to take his outstretched hand, but when I reach for him the sky turns black and thunder crashes around us.

  Waves start to rock the boat and Nolan lets out a cry when the boat tilts and he starts to fall overboard.

  Everything happens in slow motion. The images distort.

  I stand, trying to get to my baby, but Damon is there, pulling him back to safety. But then another crash shakes the sky, and a powerful wave sweeps me backwards into the icy waters.

  No! A scream rips from my throat, but it’s silenced by the frigid water.

  Struggling to get to the surf
ace, my one arm is useless, a sharp pain slicing up my shoulder, but somehow I manage to swim.

  I sputter as my head reaches the surface, gasping for air before I’m tugged back under.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  I’m pulled deeper.

  My lungs burn with the need for oxygen. I fight with every ounce of strength I have, but the lake has already claimed me like one of the ships lying unsalvageable in its icy depths.

  “Swim, Lorelei.” It’s Damon’s voice that demands I don’t give up.

  But there’s a heaviness weighing on me, and it becomes easier to just give in. To let the waters consume me.

  “Lorelei, wake up.”

  Damon’s face appears in the darkness, swimming down, hand outstretched, reaching for me. I want to tell him it’s too late, that he needs to swim back, to save himself.

  “Goddamn it, Lor, breathe,” Damon demands, his voice hard and tinged with fear.

  I take a breath, one that’s sharp and burning, like my body has forgotten the most basic life-sustaining function.

  “I’ve got you.” The cuff is off my wrist, and Damon has me cradled against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek. “You’re all right. It was just a nightmare.”

  My lungs still hurt, and I suck in another breath, clinging to him, allowing the warmth of his body to flood through me.

  “Wh-what happened?”

  He brushes my hair back from my face and I see the panic in his eyes. “I heard you scream. When I came in here, you weren’t breathing.”

  “Sleep apnea,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “It’s when you stop breathing in your sleep.”

  “I know what it is. Shit, Lor, you scared me.”

  “Sorry.”

  He picks up my wrist and rubs his thumb over the small bruise forming there. “I can’t put the cuff back on.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to sleep with me, then,” I say against his chest.

  I feel him tense slightly. “You’re sure?”

  “No. And it doesn’t mean anything.” It means everything, that’s the problem. “I just...I want you here.”

  He hesitates before setting me back on the bed, then turning the light off. In the darkness, I see him pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor.