My breath stutters. “You don’t know me,” I whisper.
He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at the curve of my jaw. “I know you smell like home. And taste like heaven.”
The back door swings open. Ghost stands in the doorway, as unreadable as before. “Havoc. Need you for a minute.”
Havoc sighs, something sharp flickering through his eyes. He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. Barely there, but enough to leave a mark on my pulse.
“Stay here. Roy’s got you. If anyone so much as breathes wrong, tell him.”
Then he strides off, all tense lines and purpose. I lean against a picnic table, still trying to slow my heart.
Roy wanders over and drops onto the bench across from me.
“You okay?” he asks in that steady drawl.
“Do you guys ask each other that all the time?”
“Pretty much,” he says. “We’ve all seen some shit. No shame in checking in.”
I nod, fingers picking at the edge of my sweater. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. “I’ve been on my own for a long time.”
He watches me for a beat. Then he says, “We don’t do anything halfway here. Havoc’s claimed you? That means you’re one of us. We’ll be in your business. You’ll be in ours. Might as well get used to it.”
A surprised laugh slips out of me. “And if I decide I’m not interested?”
Roy shrugs. “Then we’ll leave you be. But the way he watches you? Like you hung the damn moon. Don’t think that’s going away.”
I think of the way Havoc growled against my skin. The heat in his eyes. The way his voice turned low and dangerous when he told me I was his.
Yeah. I’m already around. And falling deeper every minute.
Chapter 7
Sage
WhenHavocreturns,hisexpression is darker, his focus sharpened to a blade.
“We need to talk,” he says, all business.
He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Just takes my hand and leads me past the bar toward a hallway. I follow without resisting. Maybe because his grip is careful. Maybe because the look on his face says that if I refused, he’d still get me where he needed me to be.
We pass a few closed doors. He stops at one and unlocks it with a key.
The room inside catches me off guard. A couch. A television. A small kitchen tucked into the corner. Another doorway leads to what looks like a bathroom. It’s not what I expected.
“This is yours?” I ask softly.
“Sometimes,” he says. “If things run late, I crash here. Some of us keep quarters on-site so we’re close if something goes sideways.”
He shuts the door behind us and leans against it.
The sound of the lock is too loud. The air changes. Thickens. Suddenly I feel how alone we are.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“We think someone’s asking about you,” he says bluntly. “Roy ran into a guy at the gas station. Asking about a baker with green eyes. Tan sedan, out-of-state plates. He didn’t push, and the guy left. But Ghost also saw that same car tailing you one night.”
Cold spreads through me like cracked ice.
