Breaking It All (The Hellfire Riders Book 3)

by Kati Wilde

“I don’t care.” I study her face as I untie the sleeves knotted at my waist. Though she’s not crying as I thought, she looks wrecked—as if something inside her shattered and she’s barely holding it together. “Are you all right?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. That’s an answer in itself. And she’s not ogling my body now. Instead her face is averted, as if she’s waiting until I’m safely covered before looking at me again.

  Damn it. I liked her looking at me.

  But something’s changing in her. Even as I watch, her expression slowly hardens with determination, resolve—as if she’s gearing up for something. Or bracing herself. She moves to the bar and props herself against the edge of a stool, her shoulders hunched, her hands balled in her coat pockets.

  Finally she looks at me. “There’s something else I need you to do for me.”

  I finish buttoning my shirt, leaving the tails untucked to cover my erection, and reach for my kutte. “Anything.”

  Her chest lifts on a deep breath. “When you and Stone get back…I don’t want you coming to the house anymore. Or sitting at the bar when I’m working.”

  I freeze with the leather dangling from my fingers. Is she joking? But she’s not. Her eyes aren’t sparkling in that way she has when she’s jerking Stone’s chain. Instead her gaze is flat and hard and steady.

  She meant it. But I can’t fucking take it in.

  Slowly I shrug into my kutte, feeling like I’ve been sucker punched. Every thought is scattered and I can’t catch my breath. “You want what?”

  She doesn’t repeat herself but just barrels forward. “I know it’s Stone’s place, too. And the Den isn’t my bar, so it’s not even my right to ask—”

  Fuck rights. “Why the hell would you ask? You don’t want me around?”

  Her gaze remains steady but tension’s starting to unravel her voice. “I need to start this new road—not being afraid of dying.”

  “Good. But what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

  Now her eyes dart to the side, like she’s looking for a reason. Which tells me this won’t be her real reason. “Remember you said a long time ago to keep it simple? You’re just Stone’s friend. I’m just his sister.”

  “Yeah.”

  Of course I remember. I did it to protect her. And it’s killed me for ten goddamn years.

  “Well, nobody thinks it’s simple,” she says, her gaze meeting mine again and her voice picking up, like she’s convincing herself as she goes along. “And I need to move forward. But every time someone asks me out, they think they’ll have to go around you. Like Mark, the other day he asked—”

  “Mark’s a fucking tool.”

  “I know.” It bursts out on a short, sharp laugh, like it rips from her. “But you wondered about the shit I get because of those rumors about you and me. And Mark, he asked if he was going to have to fight you. They all ask. Because you’re always there. And I know you don’t do it on purpose. It’s just what they think. And so guys who might ask me out won’t, because they think they’ll have to go through you. Or they think we’re already together.”

  So I’ve been cockblocking some of those fuckers? I’m sure as hell not sorry about it. “Any asshole who isn’t willing to go through me to have you isn’t a man worth having.”

  Pain flashes over her expression. “So I need someone who’d risk anything to be with me? I know.”

  That pain settles into a sad, longing smile that about rips my heart out. Jesus. Chest aching, I clench my jaw and look away from her, staring blindly toward the back of the store. I’d give anything to be with her. But to keep her safe, being with her is the one damn thing I can’t have.

  Especially now. Not with my family looking at her. Not when finding her brother depends on me joining the Notorious Few and falling in line.

  “I know what you’re probably thinking,” Anna adds quietly. “You’re practically a member of my family. So where do I get off telling you not to come around?”

  My gaze shoots back to hers. “Oh, is that what I’m thinking?”

  Her shoulders hunch over more, as if she’s protecting herself from my anger. “I’m just saying. For holidays and stuff, of course you should still come to my mom’s place.”

  “But otherwise stay the fuck away from you?”

  Silently she nods.

  Sick agony bursts like a blood blister through my chest. Stay away from her. I should. What she’s asking is exactly what I should be doing to protect her. I should agree and walk the hell away.

  Instead I stalk closer, driven by fury, by pain. “Would it be so fucking terrible if people think we’re together?”

  Her shoulders shoot back like steel was injected into her spine. Her chin lifts. “You tell me! Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be simple anymore.”

  “Hell yeah, it would.” My blood drumming heavily through my veins, I lean in and brace my hands on the bar behind her, caging her between my arms. “It doesn’t get much simpler than a man and a woman fucking, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes widen. Not hard and flat now, but glowing with gold and honey. “Wh–What did you say?”

  My fingers clench on the edge of the bar. It’s the only control I’ve got left. If I touch her, if I feel her soft skin beneath my hands, Christ knows if I’ll be able to stop. She’s staring up at me, her lips parted. A hectic flush stains her pale cheeks. Deliberately I press closer, forcing her to sit back farther on the barstool and settling into the space between her thighs, watching her expression go utterly still. Her coat and skirt are wedged between us but there’s no mistaking how damn hard I am, and how easy it would be to push all the barriers aside and thrust my cock deep inside her sweet heat.

  “I said a fuck is real simple.” Need roughens each word. A shiver races through her and I lower my head until I can feel her warm breath trembling across my lips. “As simple as you, me, and a bed. You won’t need to sort through the assholes if I’m already inside you. And I’ll make it so goddamn good for you, Anna.”

  It’s already so fucking good. Being this close to her. Hearing the soft moan that escapes her throat before she bites her bottom lip. Feeling the sleek muscles of her thighs flex, pushing her hips against me as if seeking more pressure. I give it to her, rocking forward and grinding between her thighs. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth and the quiet evidence of her aroused response leaves my body shaking with tension, on the edge of coming.

  For a taut moment we’re breathless, motionless. Then a shudder wracks her slender form.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispers.

  Jesus, she’s killing me. I close my eyes, my body in the grip of torturous need. But I can’t argue. It’s not the best time. Not when she’s grieving and not when Stone’s still out there.

  I nod and lower my head, pressing my lips to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear. Arousal roughens my voice. “When I come back, then. You don’t have to send me away, Anna. I’ll give you what you need any time you want it.”

  And one way or another, settle the shit with my family, so I’ll never have to stop.

  “Goddammit, Gunner! I don’t want a fuck.” Her hands shove against my chest. “I want a future!”

  Her push didn’t have a lot of power behind it but her words strike hard. I stagger back a step, looking down at her. Determination tightens her jaw but her eyes are huge and soft, swimming with tears.

  Her gaze searches mine, and the longing in her voice tears me apart. “I want what my parents have. What Jenny has. Someone who’ll promise me forever. Are you going to give me that?”

  I would. Oh Christ, I want to.

  But I can’t promise a damn thing. Not now. If I come back and don’t bring her brother home…she sure as hell won’t want to spend that future with me.

  Unbearable tension squeezes at my throat and I can’t say a goddamn word in response. But maybe she reads the answer in my face.

  Her eyes close, spilling tears down her pale cheeks. “I want a future.
But if everyone thinks we’re fucking each other, if they think we’re hung up on each other, I have no chance. Not in this town.” Her voice breaks and she whispers, “I mean, Jesus. Even Jenny thinks I’m in love with you.”

  Her best friend. Who would know. Christ. My hands shake as I drag my fingers through my hair, trying to pull my emotions back under control. I shouldn’t even ask if Jenny’s right, because the question is a knife poised right over my heart.

  But I can’t stop myself. Hoarsely I ask, “Are you?”

  Anna’s shattered gaze lifts to mine. She says bleakly, “Truthfully? I don’t think I even know you.”

  Her answer stabs straight through me. I can’t think. Can’t respond.

  The silence between us stretches thin until she draws a shuddering breath. “Am I anything more than Stone’s sister to you?”

  What the fuck does she think? Since the day I met her, there’s been no one else. I haven’t touched another woman. Haven’t even looked at another woman.

  But if Anna has to ask…then she truly doesn’t know me. I could show her what she means to me. Right now. I could push forward, take her mouth, and with one kiss she’d know every damn thing that matters.

  But her eyes, Jesus. They’re pleading with me, tears glittering in their shattered depths.

  Pleading with me to say she’s more than Stone’s sister? But that’s not what she’s asking for. She’s looking for a future. A promise.

  I can’t give her one.

  Throat raw, I tell her, “You’re not anything more to me,” and shred my soul with the lie.

  A lie she doesn’t see through. She stares at me, her expression utterly blank—like she’s not even seeing me. Like she’s seeing nothing at all.

  Then she turns her face away. And shrugs.

  “See,” she says. “Simple.”

  “Simple,” I echo. My chest is completely hollow.

  Her shoulders hunch again, her hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets. “So, yeah. And when you come back…I know it’ll be inconvenient for you not meeting up with Stone at my house or not sitting at the bar, but”—she shrugs again—“we’ll live with it.”

  This is living? A harsh laugh breaks from me, dredged up from the emptiness inside my chest. But it’s not so empty any more. Agony is filling it up fast.

  “Yup, we’ll live with it.” Each word comes out hard and bitter. “And you chose a damn good time to kick me out of your life. The renovation on your place is almost done. So no need for me to hang around, providing free labor.”

  She flinches. And fuck me, that was low. So fucking low, lashing out like that.

  I’ve got to get the hell away from her before I do it again. Because the pain is still growing, building.

  I thought I knew what hell was? I thought hell was being near her and not having her? That wasn’t hell.

  This is.

  I can’t breathe. I turn toward the door, not seeing a damn thing but her flinch and her tears. Blindly, I put one foot in front of the next.

  I’ll be putting one foot in front of the next for the rest of my pointless fucking life.

  “The kegs are loaded up,” I say roughly. “I’ll drop you off at Jenny’s on my way out to the clubhouse.”

  “Will you send Bottlecap here to pick me up, instead?”

  Her voice is muffled and when I glance back, she looks so damn small. Tiny. Like she’s folded up in that big coat, the bottom half of her face buried in the puffy collar, her wounded gaze making her eyes seem huge.

  “Yeah, I’ll send him,” I tell her. “We wouldn’t want anyone to see you’ve been alone with me. All the assholes in town will be too afraid to touch you. But hell. If a coward is what turns you on, I wish you the best.”

  I hear her quick draw of breath but she just stares at me, and that wounded gaze just gets bigger, deeper.

  And that wasn’t fair of me. Just not fucking fair. All she wants is a future. A life. Marriage. She deserves them. Deserves to be happy, to be loved.

  But I can’t say I’m sorry. Not when seeing her with someone else will kill me.

  Swallowing hard, I nod and turn away from her. “All right. We’ll make it real simple from now on. I said I’d do anything for you and I meant it. I’ll do any goddamn thing you want. So here’s me, heading right out of your life.”

  I throw open the door and hell is an icy wind, blasting into my eyes, making them burn, blurring the path ahead. I want to keep going, just disappear into the middle of nowhere, and wait for the cold to take me. Wait until I’m numb. Wait until none of this matters anymore.

  But I’ve got a brother to bring home. And maybe Anna did me a favor, tearing out my heart.

  Where I’m going tomorrow, it’s best not to have one.

  11

  Anna

  I wasn’t afraid someone would see Gunner and me together. I was afraid that I’d do exactly what I did—break down and ugly cry on the floor of Jenny’s brewery.

  Fifteen minutes after Gunner walked through the door, Bottlecap pulls up in my Prius. I head out into the freezing rain to meet him. My eyes are dry, but every breath shudders with little hiccuping sobs that won’t stop. I sound bad enough that he keeps giving me worried glances on the drive back to Jenny’s. Poor kid. Stuck in a little car with an emotional woman. He’s probably terrified that I’m going to start bawling again.

  I won’t. I’ve got nothing left. I’m absolutely numb as he stops the car. Dully I thank him and head around to the driver’s side. He glances toward Jenny’s house, like he’s surprised I’m not going back in, but I just can’t.

  I’ve cried all day but it wasn’t like this. I was hurting during Red’s funeral and afterward. But I was grieving, not broken. And now…I’d scare the shit out of my mom if she saw me like this. I’d scare the shit out of Jenny.

  And Gunner would see how he shattered everything inside me.

  You’re not anything more to me.

  I knew I wasn’t. So I shouldn’t have asked if I was. But even in the midst of trying to break the emotional chains wrapped around my heart, I just couldn’t quit.

  I guess I paid for it.

  The thirty-minute drive home passes in a blur of icy rain and black asphalt. I pull into my driveway and sit in the quiet and the dark, too exhausted to open the car door. I don’t remember ever being so worn out. Emotionally, physically.

  I did the right thing, pushing Gunner away. I did. Now I can move forward—and find out what’s going on with Stone.

  Though now I wonder if there is anything going on with Stone. I jumped to the conclusion that Gunner had lied about my brother being all right. And why? Because I didn’t think Stone would ever let Gunner pretend to be him.

  But growing up with my mom means that I don’t ever get to escape myself. I never stop questioning my reasons for everything. I told myself that the reason I pushed Gunner away was because he lied to me about Stone, but really…it was all about me. Because what had I been doing all night? Trying to think of something wrong with Gunner. So I latched onto those doubts about Stone and used them as an excuse to tell Gunner not to come around.

  Because I wasn’t brave enough to just move forward. I wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to get over him.

  I haven’t been enough of anything.

  Slowly I gather my purse, stopping for a half second to look at my phone. Any other night, I’d be messaging Stone. Guess who set a world record today for bawling like a baby?

  He’d reply with something to make me smile.

  For the past week, Gunner made me smile, too. He made me laugh. But I can’t smile and laugh now. Instead the memory of him slamming out of the brewery lodges in my chest like a jagged razor.

  And the memory of his touch? God. I haven’t even begun to work that through. All these years, nothing. He carefully stays on his side of simple. Then I piss him off and he’s all over me? Furious and ready to fuck?

  I should have pissed him off before. Just enraged him, so he wouldn�
��t stop at pushing between my legs and promising to make it good—

  No. Teeth clenched, I stop before my imagination takes it further. I can’t do this.

  No more “should have”s.

  Only moving forward. And if that movement is slow, as if every part of me is broken? So be it. I’ll go slow. At least it’ll be in the right direction.

  Though Stone’s dog won’t appreciate this snail’s pace. As soon as I open the car door, the sound of Daisy’s frantic barking reaches me from the second floor.

  God, the poor girl. She’s been locked in since I left for the funeral early this afternoon. And Daisy never barks; Stone taught her too well. She’ll chew up furniture and roll in shit, but she doesn’t bark. She must be desperate to be let out if she’s making that much racket.

  “I’m coming, Daisy!”

  The toll of today’s crying turns my voice into a hoarse croak. I’m so tired and numb, I just want to curl up in bed. But the dog demands to be let out—and curling up isn’t a step forward. Hiding away isn’t picking up the shattered pieces of my heart and getting on with life.

  Letting the dog out is.

  Wearily I trudge up the concrete path to the front door of my old farmhouse. There’s an unattached garage beside the house but that’s mostly Stone’s domain. Technically, the property is only mine—my brother doesn’t like leaving paper trails and lists the Riders’ old clubhouse as his official address—but Stone pitched in a huge chunk of the down payment, so it’s really ours.

  Although, really, the house is mine. It’s where I plan to spend the next fifty years, all the remodeling I’ve done was based on my designs, and I live in the main part of the house. Stone lives in the apartment that takes up half of the second level. Years ago, the old widow who owned the place renovated the house to accommodate a renter, creating a separate living area complete with a single bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. The old layout of the farmhouse included two stairways, so instead of building an exterior stair to the second floor, Stone has his own entrance on the side of the house that opens up into a shared mudroom. From there, he can turn left through a connecting door and step into my kitchen or head straight up the stairs to his place.