Dangerous (Wicked Hearts Book 2)

by Sara Cate

  Logan is easy to pick out too. His golden locks and boyish looks make him easy to recognize, and he doesn’t look much older than the other boy...who I’m only realizing now is Ryder.

  “Oh my god…” I giggle from the living room.

  “The only picture of all of us together.” His deep voice startles me. I didn’t even notice him approaching and now he’s nearly flush with my body as he looks too.

  “That’s Ryder?” I ask. “How old was he?”

  “I don’t know. Eight?”

  Then he points out Logan next to him and Rafe looking too handsome for words on the end with his dark hair and sharp-as-knives cheekbones.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, pointing to the guy linked with Murph.

  Without even looking at him, I can feel his expression fall. “That’s Theo.”

  “I haven’t met him yet.” My stupid fucking mouth doesn’t want to wait for my brain to think shit through before I start blabbing. And I remember what he told me about what happened to his friend before Hazel died.

  “He’s dead,” he mutters before turning away.

  “I’m sorry.” I try to reach for him, but he’s already shut down.

  Then, I glance around the living room, noticing signs that it hasn’t been lived in for much longer than he’s been at Hazel’s.

  “He was your roommate,” I whisper.

  Murph doesn’t answer, but it’s enough. How long has he been avoiding living in his own house? The couch looks like it hasn’t been sat on in months.

  He’s still walking around the house, avoiding me since I brought up the tough stuff. And I almost follow him, but my leg is a little sore from the tattoo and today was emotionally exhausting already. So I walk over to the weathered light brown leather sofa, and I drop down into the seat. Grabbing a blanket from the back, I pull it over my legs.

  I don’t tell him this, but I love it here. It feels like a home, a real home. Hazel’s house is nice, but it’s exactly that: a house. A very expensive house. This is a lived-in home. Or at least it used to be lived in.

  He walks around for a few more minutes, until he passes through the living room and stops when he sees me.

  “What are you doing?” His voice is gruff and clipped.

  “Relaxing. Come sit with me.”

  “I have stuff to do,” he says, trying to move away. I reach a hand up and grab his.

  “Come sit with me, Murph.”

  It takes him a moment to relent, and he lets out a long sigh before he drops into the opposite side. The room grows deliciously silent. We just sit in it, enjoying it for a while before I notice him actually relax, resting his head on the back of the sofa.

  Crawling across the couch, I lay my head in his lap. I could fall asleep like this, if only I could get the image of that news reporter out of my head.

  Like he could read my mind, he runs his fingers through my hair as he asks, “So what did that reporter say to you?”

  I don’t tell him that she knew my name or that she was even able to recognize me based on a photo in my file—whatever that meant. “They knew she was dead. They wanted confirmation.”

  “Those fuckers.”

  “People will care that she’s gone. She made a difference around here.”

  “They’re just ready to release the vultures. They’ll be all over her estate before the lawyers can finish dotting their I’s and crossing their T’s.”

  That familiar eruption of anxiety floods my chest with heat. I might as well be one of those vultures. When the time comes, I will use Hazel’s death to my financial benefit.

  And it will break him.

  Savannah’s on edge. I can feel her tense as I run my hands along her legs, planting kisses along her inner thighs, careful not to touch the healing skin on the inside of her knee. She lets her head hang back and lets out a sweet moan. When we’re at Hazel’s I know she’s afraid the others might hear, so I’m going to enjoy her pleasure sounds while we’re in the privacy of my house.

  Thank fuck she was too distracted to bring up the awkward encounter at the shop. When I proposed staying here tonight, she seemed all too eager to crawl into my bed. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice.

  Fuck, this shit is getting too heavy. I like having her around. Seeing her curled up on my couch, naked in my bed, eating at my kitchen table. I could get used to this.

  I can still feel the tension in her body—even as I continue kissing and teasing her softly between the legs, loving the feel of her writhing and shaking with pleasure. She digs her fingers into my hair, applying just the right amount of pain to make me sink in a little deeper. Right on time, she goes rigid, her moans turning into gasps, I know she is at the pinnacle of her orgasm. So I push her all the way through, applying the pressure of my lips and tongue against her clit, making the climax as intense as possible.

  When she finally releases the breath she was holding and collapses against the mattress, I climb over her. I can barely get a kiss on her mouth before she is pulling me in, seemingly desperate for my touch. Desperate for me to fulfill every inch of her, and I do.

  As I lay into her softly, stroke after stroke, the intensity threatens to tear me to shreds. Our faces just inches apart, I inhale her breath, consumed by only her so that Savannah is all I can feel, all I can taste, all I can see. For a brief moment, Savannah is my whole world, and it’s safe here.

  She whispers my name, her high pitch telling me she’s close to another climax. This one I know she expresses differently. This one she pulls me close, holding me deeper inside until her legs shiver and quake.

  My release comes plummeting into me at the same time so that we are both holding each other so tight, I’m afraid I might break her.

  After I finally let her go, taking the first deep breath I’ve taken all day, I pull her against my chest. I should ask her what’s bothering her, but words don’t come easily for me. Instead, I hold her, kiss her forehead, run my hands along her stomach. And I hope it’s enough.

  “Murph,” she whispers, so quietly it comes out as a breath.

  I answer with a grunt. Instead of her reply, I feel her swallow. Whatever it is, I can tell she’s too nervous to speak.

  “What is it?” I ask, trying to be as gentle as I can. I feel her tense again, and I wait, desperate to know what is on her troubled mind today.

  “Thank you again,” she says finally. “For the tattoo.”

  I know it’s not what she wanted to say, but I don’t know how to get her to open up if I can’t ask the right questions.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” I answer.

  She doesn’t speak again, and it’s a long while before I feel her breathing change to the heavy rhythm of sleep. Her gentle weight in my arms has already started to feel more familiar than foreign. I keep telling myself that things with Savannah are easy, but I’m starting to wonder if they’re easy because she doesn’t ask much of me. How much longer will it be easy? How long until she demands something more? Words, feelings, commitment?

  Unless she doesn’t want that either…

  It dawns on me that Savannah’s quiet mood lately is quite possibly from the inevitability of the end. I don’t know where she will go after the business is done. Will she stay here with Ruby? Will she leave Wickett? Were my suspicions true that she was only around for the reward at the end and now she’s finding it hard to move on?

  Will I be ready for that?

  I remember how I felt the day Ryder left, taking his money and moving on to something new. Something better.

  The vision of Savannah driving off without coming back leaves a solid chunk of ice in my chest, and it hurts me to think about it.

  We finally made an official statement to the media, who made an official statement to the city so that everyone who was anyone in Wickett would be there for Hazel’s funeral. Well, we called it her funeral, but the four of us knew that this was all for show. The real party is next weekend, which we moved a week away to give us more time
to plan it. Only her real friends are invited, and the media can know nothing about it.

  As for now, we sat around the gravesite watching her body being lowered into the ground in her family’s plot. Ruby sat next to me, sobbing silently. I heard her whispering to the casket as it was descended, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  I never understood their relationship, but I always had my suspicions there was something under the surface. After the last couple weeks, my suspicions became a little more cemented in truth, but that’s what death does. It exposes the frailest lies.

  Murph and Ryder are in my periphery, both standing stoically in their black suits with cold, blank expressions on their faces. Murph’s friends are there too, the young one from the shop and the even more stern looking cop.

  Murph’s gaze meets mine for a moment, and although there is no expression behind his stare, there is a sense of comfort in the contact.

  I can’t shake the feeling that people are watching me. I haven’t seen the news reporter lady again, but I know that if she found me, it’s only a matter of time before Hugo does. He’s lurking, just waiting, ready to expose me and bring everything in my plan to ruin.

  Once we get back to the house, I can feel the tension coming off of Murph. I wish he’d talk to me, look at me, anything. The pain of losing someone so close to you is real, raw—and not meant to be suffered alone.

  I find him leaning against the downstairs bar, an empty glass in his hands. It feels almost like poking a bear when I glide my hand over his back. He tenses and then looks at me skeptically, as if he’s reading my expression.

  “You okay?” I ask, but he answers with a shrug.

  “This whole thing, what a fucking waste,” he grumbles.

  “What do you mean? The funeral?”

  “Yeah. What’s the point?” He turns toward me with a pained expression. “We lay people in the ground, and it seems cruel, like it’s just meant to hurt us. Watching them disappear into the ground like that. Fucked up.”

  “I think it’s meant to feel like closure, like saying goodbye.” I say gently placing my hand on his arm. I should have known that he wouldn’t react well to being consoled.

  He lets out a low growl.

  “And she would love the party. You know it.”

  “Sure,” he says, downing the rest in his glass.

  Then I go out on a limb and decided to push a little deeper. All I want is for Murph to really open up. I want to know what lurks behind those sad eyes. Why? I don’t know. It feels like torture, to get closer to him although we are doomed beyond words. But with all of this time to wait for the will to be read, what else could I do?

  “If you want to talk, talk to me,” I whisper, leaning my face against his arm. His gaze finds mine, and I let out a sigh, getting lost in those green oceans.

  For a second I think he might actually talk. He drops his glass with a heavy thunk against the bar and turns toward me. “I have a better idea.”

  He buries his face in my neck, pulling my body against his. I want to argue with him but the combination of his soft lips and rough beard melts my body in his hands.

  “Murph,” is all I manage in a hearty whisper.

  Then, he bends at the waist, placing his shoulder against my waist and without warning, I’m being hoisted off the ground, my body hanging over his, and I let out a playful laugh as he turns and walks toward the bedroom.

  This wasn’t exactly what I was talking about, and as much as I love every second of being in the bedroom with Murph, I know that it’s not solving any problems. It’s one big bandage over a gaping wound.

  But then again, it feels so good.

  Just before he reaches the hallway, he stops dead in his tracks and drops me to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” a small voice asks full of curiosity.

  Lucy stands there, her eyes sparkling up at Murph. It’s baffled me since they arrived at how much the tiny princess is drawn to this intimidating bear of a man. He could do no wrong in her eyes.

  Ryder enters the room behind her and glares up at the two of us suspiciously. None of our sneaky bedroom behavior has gotten past him, and it’s obvious. “No roughhousing indoors,” he says, glaring at us.

  Lucy lets out a giggle, and I actually see Murph crack a smile.

  “What do you want, princess?” he says to the girl as he picks her up and carries her over to the kitchen.

  “A snack,” she answers with a smile.

  “A snack? Doesn’t your dad feed you?”

  “Ha-ha,” Ryder chimes in sarcastically.

  It feels a little like a private moment, this small disjointed family sitting together in the kitchen, but I can’t help but stop and stare. I’m on the outside looking in, but I know the door is open. If I wanted, I could have it.

  But the cost is too high. If I attached myself to these people and Hugo found me...I couldn’t live with myself if he made everyone pay for my mistakes.

  When the doorbell rings, each and every one of us freezes.

  “I’ll get it,” Ryder says, walking toward the front of the house. My eyes don’t leave Murph. I know there's no one here to threaten me, but I can’t shake the feeling that the good things are about to come to an end.

  There is a hushed conversation by the front door, but we can’t see who it is yet. It’s a woman for sure, a sweet voice is mixed with Ryder’s, and it sounds as if they are familiar with each other. Does Ryder have a girlfriend in Wicked?

  Suddenly, a familiar blonde enters the living room. I almost forgot where I know her from when her eyes light up and she crosses the space to wrap me up in her arms. It’s her overwhelming presence and outgoing personality that rings a bell. She was the girl who greeted us at the gala, who ushered us in and seemed to have a distinct fondness for Hazel. If she was at the funeral today, I didn’t notice, but then again, there were a lot of people there.

  “Savannah, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  “Thank you,” I answer. When she pulls away, I get lost in her kind eyes. She looks behind her and addresses Murph with a wave. I offer her a drink, and when it’s clear she’s sharing an awkward moment with Ryder, I invite her to sit on the patio with me. If I’m being honest, it’s nice to be alone with a woman for a change. Even before I left Hugo, I barely had alone time with other women, but there was always something so comforting about it. Having real girlfriends.

  “I hope you don’t mind me barging in. You know, I really admire what you guys are doing. Skipping the formalities to give Hazel the party she would have liked.”

  “Well, we did technically have a funeral today,” I said.

  “But that party next weekend...it’s genius.”

  In the sunlight, Tia’s blonde hair glows like it’s made of light. It makes me incredibly jealous and self-conscious. She’s one of those women who is so beautiful it seems she was created from something completely different than me.

  “Thank you,” I answer. “We just want to do one last thing for her.”

  She smiles at me, and it isn’t long before I can feel the apprehension, like she’s about to bring up something heavy.

  “Savannah, I came here to talk to you, and I want to be honest.”

  I sit up in my seat. I already know what this will be about, but I won’t say anything until she does.

  “Everyone is talking about the properties that Hazel owned, and it’s only getting worse, the longer we wait. I know the will is being read next month, but they are driving me crazy trying to learn as much as they can. I have reason to believe Colin McAffery is gunning for Murph’s shop.”

  “Did he send you over here to try and talk us into selling?”

  “Oh fuck no,” she laughs. “I don’t want you to sell anything to those assholes. Are you kidding? Savannah, I’m here because I want to make sure you don’t plan on selling anything.”

  A smile forms on my lips as I watch her swallow down the rest of her dry martini. I like this girl, and under different cir
cumstances, I think we could be good friends.

  “Well, thank you, but I don’t think any of that will be up to me,” I lie.

  She leans to the side, eyeballing the guys through the window into the kitchen. “Sure, you don’t,” she laughs, her words dripping with sarcasm.

  I can’t hide my smile as she breaks out into a hearty laugh. “I had a feeling that there was something going on there. You two were electric at the gala.”

  “It’s just for fun,” I say, holding back another painful truth.

  “Sure, it is. Either way, you have more sway over him than anyone, and I know he hates Colin more than he hates anyone, so I don’t have to convince him to keep it, but I wanted to talk to you first. Just make sure he’s ready to fight off the wolves.”

  “Oh, he’s ready,” I say, taking a drink.

  “Things are going to get really ugly around here if Colin doesn’t get his way.” It’s a warning, and it makes the hairs on my arm standup. “He may not look intimidating, but he doesn’t fight fair.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.” I send her a reassuring smile. She reaches across the table and grips my wrist in her hand.

  “I’ve known Murph from a distance for a long time. He seems to be anything but fun. Be careful with that one.”

  I thank her and keep my mouth shut. She’s not wrong. I do have to be careful of Murph, but it’s not because he’s the dangerous one.

  Blondie stuck around for over an hour, stealing Savannah’s attention when all I wanted was to sweep her away and finish what we started before Lucy walked in. As much as I loved sitting around with the kid listening to her talk about mundane things like her favorite colored pencils and which flavor of Starbursts were the best, I had other ways of relieving my stress, and I was hungry for it.

  Then as soon as the girl left, Ruby asked for our help in clearing out some of the stuff in Hazel’s office. Apparently she left some boxes with our names on them and Ruby didn’t want to get rid of anything without our permission. I couldn't care less what was in those boxes, and I’d just as soon she burn it all before keeping some sentimental bullshit, but I couldn't tell Ruby that. She was still so fragile and lost it easily. So Ryder and I went into the office as she asked us to.