: Chapter 14

I square my shoulders, every muscle in my body going so tight they burn. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I bare my teeth, seething as I walk around the island, glaring at Macon.

But he just looks away, saying nothing more. Stepping around Krisjen, he heads for the door to the garage, but I shove all the shit off the corner of the island, sending it crashing to the floor.

“You’re not leaving,” I growl. “Goddamn you.”

He turns his head, looking at all the dishes and food on the tile.

“You’re not leaving!” I yell. “Not anymore. I always make sure you never have to deal with me, but you’re not running off into your garage this time.”

He continues for the door. “Clean it up.”

A sob lodges in my throat, and I don’t know why my fucking eyes are burning. I’m not sad. I want to kill him. Goddammit. I grab the kitchen table in both hands and flip it over, everything toppling to the floor as the table crashes to its side. Krisjen backs up toward the sink, and I barely notice Macon pulling her back as he launches forward, getting in my face again.

But I’m way ahead of him. “You bring her into this?” I glare at Macon. “Fuck you! Fuck! I have been the only one by your side, protected you like a goddamn brick wall, so they never know how weak you really are! I’ve always been your brother! And you treat me like I fucking work for you.”

“You do.”

I rear my arm back and punch him, my fist exploding as it crashes against his jaw. Pain shoots from my knuckles, down the back of my hand, but I clench my teeth to hide the pain.

His head twists to the side, and he stands there for a couple of seconds before he faces me again. I get in his space, refusing to back down anymore as I meet him eye to eye. “I am just as strong as you are,” I say in a low voice, Krisjen not making a sound behind him. “I’ve been quiet, I’ve swallowed the shit because you’re the oldest and I respected you for having the strength to make all the decisions I never wanted to make and do the dirty shit I didn’t want to do when we were kids, but that doesn’t make you a man.”

“Neither does making babies you can’t support.”

I search his eyes. Brown, like our mother’s. Like the person behind them is two hundred feet under the water. Just like hers looked.

Tears well. “Do you love me at all?” I ask him. “Do you love us? Do you feel anything for Liv or Trace or anyone?”

How could he say that to me? He knows I loved her. He knows that my son will be hurt when he realizes his mother left him. He knows what I’m going to face. That I don’t deserve this.

But his only response is “You don’t have to live here.”

“Macon …” I hear Trace say behind me. I didn’t hear him come back in. Macon walks around me, into the living room.

But I follow. “No one lives here, Macon,” I spit back, his spine tensing. “No one really wants to be here.”

“Army, don’t,” Krisjen says.

I turn to where she’s standing in the kitchen. Looking so sad with those blue eyes. Blue just like Dex’s. Blue just like hers. “You want to go for a ride?” I ask.

I need to get out of here.

But Macon moves, and I look to see him snap his gaze to Krisjen. His jaw is still flexed—still tight—but for a split second I catch it. He lingers on her too long. He’s paying attention to her. Why?

I look at her and then back to him. “Oh, Jesus,” I say, and then shake my head. “How many times did you tell us to stay away from them? And now you want one. You want her.”

“I don’t want her,” he fires back. “I just don’t want to have to feed another one of your kids.”

You son of a bitch.

Everything feels like it’s bubbling over. I don’t know what I’ll do if Macon tries to leave, or what I’ll do if he doesn’t.

But then my phone rings, and I reach into my pocket, pulling it out and answering it.

“This is Highland State Prison,” a recording says. “Will you accept a collect call from Iron Jaeger?”

“Yes.”

I stare at Macon, the room gone silent. I know he hears the other line because he waits.

“Hey, man,” Iron says, and I almost cry, realizing how much I miss him.

“How are you?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“Still alive.” He chuckles. “Tell Dallas I get it. Having a boyfriend has proved useful.”

I laugh. There’s no need to go to extremes. We have Bay people in there, watching his back. He’s safe.

“How are all of you?” he asks.

I stare at Macon, Dallas and Trace staring at me. “Oh, you know us. It’s no party without you.”

“Yeah …” He’s quiet for a minute, and I almost ask about Thanksgiving on the inside, but I don’t want to know. He continues. “I wish I was there. I don’t want to ever come back here. That’s for sure.”

“Good.” I approach Macon. “We really miss you.”

“Miss you guys, too,” Iron tells me. “You’re telling Dex bedtime stories about me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Macon want to talk to me yet?”

I pull the phone away from my ear and hold it out to my older brother.

I look at him, and he looks at me, the phone suspended between us, because this is my role, isn’t it? The one who cares. Who signed permission slips and went to conferences and took them to the doctor and the dentist and bought their Halloween costumes and what the fuck did he do? Oh yeah. He paid for it, so that absolves him for never showing up.

He doesn’t take the phone, and I pull it back, holding it to my ear and taking a second to clear my throat. “He’s indisposed in his bedroom,” I tell Iron, “with some, um, redhead, I think. You want me to interrupt him?”

“Are you serious?” I can hear the amusement in Iron’s voice. “Don’t you dare interrupt him. Jesus.”

I smile at the brother in my ear as I glare at the one in front of me. “Yeah. Call tomorrow. We can talk more.”

“Okay,” he says. “Take care. Tell everyone I love them.”

“Will do.”

I hang up, tossing my phone onto the couch. I look at Macon.

“He says to tell you he loves you.”

And I rush him.

I slam into his chest, then he falls into the table against the window. Our mother’s handblown glass vase topples, and I grab him as he grasps for me, both of us crashing onto the floor with the vase. I throw him underneath me and get in a punch, digging my fingers into his throat.

“He just needed to hear your voice!” I shout. “What the fuck? What if he dies in there?”

He throws me off him, and I slam into the edge of the coffee table, an ache hitting my ribs.

Macon rises, grabbing the back of my head by the hair before I can climb to my feet. He pins me to the floor, my stomach pressing into the rug as he digs a knee into my back.

“Don’t,” someone says. “They need to do this.”

“No,” Krisjen cries.

I can’t see what she’s trying to do, but she needs to stay back.

Macon grips the back of my neck, squeezing hard.

“Fuck you!” I muster every ounce of strength I have and flip over. We roll, throwing punches, and I’m not even sure what I’m hitting, but I feel his fist in my gut and another in my side.

“Stop!” Krisjen cries. “Please!”

I notice her legs at our side, but she’s pulled out of the way before I can tell her to get back.

“Don’t,” Trace tells her. “You’re gonna get hurt.”

I’m on top, straddling him, but I’m not up there for more than two seconds before my back is bending backward and I’m flying over his body. He flips me over his head, my boots landing on our mom’s figurine table, all of her glass crashing to the floor. Some land with a thud, and some have that sound like ice in a grinder.

A fist squeezes my heart, and I tilt my eyes back to see Macon, on one knee, looking at the table and its contents at my feet. He’s not breathing.

I rise, feeling the tears coming and one spilling. It takes a minute, but I look down at the blue shards that used to be a vase, and the yellow ones that used to be a pitcher.

Trace and Dallas stare at the floor, Krisjen staring at me and then Macon.

“I’ll go,” she tells him.

She moves to the kitchen to get her stuff, but I grab her by the back of the shorts and haul her back into me, her back pressed against my chest. Wrapping my arm around her, I taunt Macon as I press my cheek into hers.

She’s not what’s causing this.

“Dallas?” I say, but don’t take my eyes off our oldest brother.

“Trace? Go get drunk somewhere.” Macon takes a step toward me.

Trace holds out his hand. “Give me Krisjen,” he tells me.

I shake my head.

Macon turns his head to the youngest. “Take her,” he commands Trace.

Trace looks at me, and again, I shake my head.

I hear Krisjen’s small voice. “Don’t leave,” she begs Trace.

But they do. Dallas first, and then Trace, albeit hesitantly.

Maybe he figures she’ll stop us from killing each other.

The door slams shut, Krisjen’s body shakes against mine, and I hold Macon’s gaze as I press my nose into her hair.

Everything about her is sweet.

And I know exactly what he needs.

I whisper, “We could share her.”

His eyes narrow. Her breaths grow smaller against my body. “We could go to the boat …” I tell him. “Go out to sea tonight where the world doesn’t exist, and we could make love to her. On the dark water. Where she can come as loudly as she wants to.”

The pinch between his dark brows gets deeper, and I know I’m right.

I slip my hand under her shirt—his shirt that she wears—caressing her stomach.

“It’s been a long time since you felt something warm, hasn’t it?” I ask.

But I don’t need him to answer. I know everything that happens with him. It’s been ages since he’s been to bed with anyone.

“She wants you,” I tell him, feeling Krisjen’s breathing hitch. “She looks at you. Did you know that?”

His gaze falls to her, and I honestly don’t think he knew. Has he been on another planet?

She doesn’t make my food for me.

“She’s so warm,” I tell him. “Do this with me.”

He meets my eyes, steeling his spine. “She’s eighteen, you piece of shit.”

“Then take her to the boat yourself.” I release her. “Take her away tonight. Just you and her. She won’t say no.”

His jaw hardens.

“Touch her,” I beg him.

Please just fucking touch her. Be a fucking man instead of a machine or a piece of furniture.

“Let’s go out,” I go on. “Me, you, her. No more fucking pain. At least tonight.”

Something has to change. I want my brother back. I don’t care if he doesn’t want me to have her. I hope he doesn’t let me touch her. I hope he fucks her, because he can’t get enough. I hope he wants to keep her.

But instead, she turns, faces me, and before I know what’s happening, her hand is whipping across my face.

I blink, turning back, but she does it again, and then I hear her finally speak. “No.”

Sickness rises up my throat.

She starts to walk away, but I pull her back, opening my mouth to apologize, but Macon shoves me away from her. I crash into the window, hearing it splinter and crack but not break.

“I’m getting out of here,” I tell him, “and I’m not leaving her alone with you.”

I take her hand, but he grabs me by the neck and slams me into the wall this time. The breath is knocked out of me, and my spine feels like it was knocked into my sternum.

A picture comes down, and I hear Krisjen cry out.

“Krisjen, go!” I yell. “Just get out of here.”

I don’t wait for her to leave, though. Hooking an arm around Macon’s neck, I drag him to the floor, both of us tumbling and rolling into furniture. I accidentally kick the TV, and feel hot blood dripping from my nose.

Macon flips me over, but I slam my fist into his jaw, jarring him long enough to throw him off. He lands next to me, and I scramble, getting on all fours, ready for him to come at me again.

But then I see that we’re not alone.

I trail my eyes up four black-clad legs, and recognize the two men in full uniform, silver badges shining, and sidearms locked at their hips.

“Macon, what the hell?” the younger cop asks.

The other one steps up. “Man, we just came over to—”

But Macon blurts out, “Take him!”

What?

I stop breathing as Krisjen turns her worried eyes on me.

“What?” one of them asks, looking stunned.

Macon gets up to his knees, wiping the blood from under his nose. “Take Army. Let him cool off in a cell tonight.”

My mouth drops open.

“No!” Krisjen cries.

“Jesus Christ,” I grit out.

The older cop, Tom Chavez, asks, “Are you sure?”

“Take him now!” Macon bellows.

Every muscle knots, and I struggle to climb to my feet. They move in, but I grab the TV and throw it onto the floor, growling.

Chavez and Marquis, the younger one, grab me, each of them holding an arm and forcing me toward the door.

Krisjen moves. “Macon, don’t,” she begs him. “I’ll leave. I’ll go.”

“Good idea.” He takes her arm, pushing her toward the cops. “Take her home, too.”

They grab her as she yells, “I have to get my brother and sister!”

But Macon has lost his goddamn mind. “Get them out of the Bay!”

“What about Dex?” I scream back.

But I’m out the door, being pushed down the steps even as I dig in my heels.

He’ll stop them. He’ll call them off in a second. He’s never kicked me out of the house before.

“Stop, please,” she says to the police. Then she calls back to Macon, “Are you serious?”

But he says nothing.

He doesn’t stop them. I lock my molars together. “Son of a bitch …” I bite out.

Trace comes running to my side. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Take care of Dex!” is all I shout.

Dallas appears. “Army?”

Macon will tell them to stop. He wouldn’t do this.

But Chavez shoves my head down. “Get in the car or I’ll keep you for longer for fighting me.”

Trace runs for the house. “Macon!”

I land on the seat, still gripping the door. I look at Dallas. “Take care of the kids.”

“Don’t worry,” he says.

He pinches his brows together. I’ve never seen Dallas worried. He looks six years old.

Marquis shoves Krisjen, but she shoots out her hands, stopping and flipping around. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“Now!” he shouts.

“Screw you.”

In half a second, she’s twisted back around, her wrists are being cuffed, and she’s stuffed into the car, locked to the handle above the door.

“What?” She yanks at the cuffs over her head. “No!”

“Feel free to tell your grandpa.” He pushes her legs inside. “He’ll thank us.”

He slams the door, both cops climb in the car, and I run my hand through my hair as I stare at the road ahead.

I won’t give Macon the satisfaction of seeing me waiting for him to save me. Fuck him to hell and back.

They drive off, taking us away on absolutely no charge or authority other than my brother, who I never thought would use his power against me.

“What just happened?” Krisjen lets out a sob.

I sniff, smelling the blood in my nostrils. “Oh, didn’t you know, Krisjen? Swamp has cops on the payroll, too.”

And I kick Chavez’s seat as he drives.

He eyes me through the rearview mirror. “You shut up. We’re doing you a favor, man. We’re not getting you away for his sake but for your own. Let him cool off.”

Except he wasn’t going to kill me.

’Course, I didn’t think he’d have me thrown in jail, either. Seems I don’t know my brother as well as I thought.

Chavez was born in St. Carmen, and every time I see him over here, he has a phone in his fist. Full of all the information he’s gathered for my brother.

The younger one in the passenger seat, Johnston Marquis, grew up in the Bay. He looks over his shoulder at me. “Your kid will be fine.”

Krisjen moves forward, pleading through the plastic partition. “I have to get my brother and sister.”

“Just leave ’em, Krisjen,” I blurt out. “They’ll be fine till morning.”

“What do you know?” she fires back. “You’ve always had backup.”

I laugh, sniffling again as I swipe my hand under my nose and pull away blood. “Oh, is that what you call that …”

She’s the fucking oldest. Like Macon.

They have a burden I’ll never know, but they are also a burden they will never understand. Something goes wrong with kids who are forced to parent their siblings. In ten years, she could be blaming Mars and Paisleigh for her shitty life, because … well, everything would’ve been fine if they didn’t exist.

Right?

I mean, we’re the sole reason Macon is a monster, right?

“You do look at him,” I say, my voice soft. “I wasn’t making that up.”

When she doesn’t say anything, I turn my gaze on her. “Was he next?”

She glares ahead, refusing to look at me.

I grab her leg under the knee and pull her toward me. She gasps as I fit my knees between her legs.

She yanks against the cuffs, her fists balled above her. I lean my hand on the door behind her head, hovering over her body. “I don’t see Dex’s mother when I look at you.” I gaze at her, her shirt riding up and her stomach showing. “But when I fuck you, Krisjen, it will be for revenge.”

“Army, man …” I hear Marquis warn.

But he’ll have to pull the car over to stop me.

“She’s a Saint,” I tell Krisjen. “Dex’s mother.”

Her eyes falter just slightly.

“She gave me my son, and then acted like we didn’t exist, because I tainted her clean white sheets and our son was a dirty secret.”

She doesn’t say a word.

“She destroyed me, Krisjen,” I whisper, choking down the shit rising up my throat. “What am I supposed to tell him when he runs into her someday?”

I know the cops are keeping an eye on us, but I don’t think they can hear.

“She didn’t want me. No one fucking wants me. Why?” I blink a few times to get rid of the burn behind my eyes. “She didn’t see me as a man. As strong. Trace and Dallas and Iron don’t fear me, and Macon doesn’t see me at all. Liv doesn’t respect me.”

They love me.

They don’t seek me.

“People don’t walk on me,” I say. “They just step over me as if I’m not here.”

Everyone. Not a single fucking person needs me, and I can’t put that burden on Dex. I can’t make him responsible for filling a hole I can’t fill anywhere else.

When she finally speaks, her voice is low but still firm. “So what are you going to do?”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should have it out with her,” she says, strands of her hair blowing in front of her mouth as she speaks. “Kidnap her, tie her up, yell. Then let her go. You’ll get away with it.”

“Are you both having this conversation in a cop car right now?” Marquis gripes.

But I smile. “What should I say to her?” I ask Krisjen.

“What do you want to say?”

“Nothing.”

It’s funny how quickly that answer came.

“I don’t want her to know …” I whisper, “that she still means anything to me.”

She shifts underneath me, and I don’t know if it was intentional or a reflex, but our bodies brush against each other, and I grab her hip. I touch her skin, squeezing, and all too aware of how she’s tied up right now.

These fucking rich girls. Why do I like knowing I can’t have one?

I hover over her mouth, trailing my hand up her torso to just under her breasts.

She pants, jerking away from my mouth and baring her teeth.

But she’s not saying no.

I reach down, pulling the thin, light blue strap of her thong out of the top of her jean shorts. “Women wear this stuff when they want someone to see it. Was it for me?” I taunt. “Or him?”

I lower my mouth, ready to kiss her, but she catches my bottom lip between her teeth, biting me hard. The sting hits me, but my cock jerks, too, as I gasp.

She releases me, and I groan, looking down at the fire in her angry eyes.

“He should’ve taken you,” I whisper.

I grip the bottom of Macon’s shirt on her body and slowly push it up just a little.

She exhales hard, a whimper escaping her mouth.

“And I promise you,” I growl at her, yanking her hips into me.

“My brothers were too gentle with you.”

I bend down to her stomach, kissing and biting and feeling her squirm under me.

“Dude …” Marquis blurts out. “Stop.”

But God, I don’t fucking care. I’m taking this moment. It won’t happen twice if I let it get away.

I bury my nose in her skin, digging my fingers into her body, and she flails, trying to shove me off, but I look up at her, her tits poking through her shirt as her chest rises and falls in quick breaths.

She glowers.

Holding her eyes, I flick my tongue over her stomach. “I bet …” I tease her. “That I can get you to come on my tongue.”

“Army!” Chavez yells.

Krisjen’s mouth falls open, her breath staggered. But then she works up a scowl and tightens her jaw.

“Tell me no,” I whisper.

I think I like her all tied up, unable to push me away. But she can still speak if she wants.

I squeeze her breast, and she jerks, hitting my head with hers. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t care.” I kiss her again and again, her lips not moving or opening. “Your grandfather took my brother. There’s only one thing I want from you.”

Her eyes flash to mine, and for a moment, I tense.

I don’t want to be bad. I don’t want to say this shit.

But I don’t want to stay the same, either.

If she doesn’t want me, she’s going to know there won’t be a second chance. I’m not the one you run to when you’re lonely. Not anymore. I’m not going to always stick around.

I don’t need anyone. Stay or don’t stay. Be here or don’t. I don’t give a shit.

I reach back and thread my fingers through her hair, kissing her again and trying to stick my tongue in her mouth. I bite and move over her lips, taking what I want.

“I should send you to Iron for a little visit.” I kiss her. “He should have another turn with you.”

She doesn’t kiss back. But she doesn’t pull farther away, either.

“But I think you’re just going to want more of me.” I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. “Someone older who has more experience.”

She pulls away, lifting her chin. “And which one are you again?”

I laugh, taking her neck in my hand and touching everywhere I can reach. I grab her ass in my hand and thrust us together.

She grunts, feeling my cock through my jeans. “Look at me,” she says.

I don’t. I rip open her shorts. She moans.

“Man, you cannot do that here!” Chavez barks, and I feel the cop car veering to the side of the road. “Stop!”

I see Marquis out of the corner of my eye turning in his seat. “Are you guys … actually …”

Chavez jerks his head, looking as well. “Are they—”

But I don’t pay them any attention. “Rich girl, poor girl,” I taunt her, kissing and biting her neck. “Y’all look the same when you’re naked.”

Maybe if I’m an asshole, people will fear me like they do Macon. Or at least see me like they do Dallas.

I should’ve tried to be a prick a long time ago.

But she urges, “Look at me.”

Pain shoots through my heart, and I hover over her lips as I push her shirt up.

“Look at me,” she whispers. “Fucking look at me.”

I can’t stop myself.

I meet her eyes and halt, entranced.

A lock of hair drapes diagonally over her face, her blue eyes filled with heat and something warm. Something that’s her and always is.

“Kiss me,” she begs.

I sink into her mouth, and she kisses me back this time. Both of us take it deeper, as we press ourselves against the leather of the seat. I reach down, starting to peel off the strap of her panties.

“Oh, Jesus,” one of the cops say.

I hear car doors open. I think they’re about to pull me off her, but all I hear is “Just hurry up, goddammit!”

I tear my mouth away just long enough to tell them, “Turn off the dash cam.”

There’s some shuffling, and then the doors close.

I don’t look to see where they went, but I’ve got a girl chained up in the back seat with me, and I’m not hurrying anything.

I come down on her, sinking my teeth into her breast, sucking it into my mouth and gently grazing her skin with my teeth.

“Ah …” she mewls, her body undulating, seeking me.

I kiss and suck, tugging her flesh into my mouth and moving from one breast to another.

I want to please her. I want her to want me.

But as soon as the thoughts occur to me, I push them away. I’m going to take this for now—just right now—and feel this with her. That’s it.

Feel it and remember it and be grateful. For something of my own for one night.

I rise up, looking down at the sweat glistening across her stomach as I unfasten my belt.

She watches me open my jeans.

“Look at me,” I tell her as I move down her body. “Don’t close your eyes.”

Her eyes watch me lower myself between her legs, and I slowly peel down her panties, savoring every second it takes until she’s bare.

“They’re not watching, are they?” she asks.

They. The cops.

I cast my eyes up and around, seeing no one and nothing but the blur of trees behind a curtain of rain over the windows.

“They’re not watching.” My heart rises into my throat, and I can’t wait. I cover her with my mouth, sucking her naked skin and finding her clit, nibbling on it.

“Ah,” she moans. “Oh God …”

She rolls her hips nice and slow, but so fucking strong like she’s already dying for it.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpers. “More.”

I lick her pretty cunt in long strokes over and over again, massaging one of her tits. I suck her between my teeth, go back to stroking her with my tongue, and then stick it inside of her.

She struggles for breath, putting one thigh over my shoulder and locking my head to her sweet, fucking heat.

I put my other hand over her mouth, eating her harder and going faster. Suck and lick, and then I use my tongue, and my thumb to rub her hard nub. She rolls her hips, searching for my mouth again and again, faster and faster.

“Oh God. Army,” she pants.

She starts fucking jerking, and I can tell the little one is about to come.

I stop.

I pull up and lean over her, watching her chest rise in short, shallow breaths, and then she blinks her eyes open. She finds me above her, sweat beading her brow.

“Army?” She looks near tears. “Please.”

“I said look at me.”

She had her eyes closed.

She stares at me and finally nods, understanding.

I want her to watch me do this.

Bowing down, I take another nibble of her breast, and then I sink back to her cunt, starting slow again.

She likes the sucking part best, so I play with her clit, stopping to tongue it more and more and get her going again.

I flick it over and over, hearing her breath go ragged, and look up to see her mouth open as she breathes and watches me eat her.

I bite her, tugging her between my teeth, and press down with my tongue again, rubbing her in circles.

She sucks in—moaning—two times, and then stills. Then … she cries out, rocking her pussy into my mouth, and whimpering before she lets her head fall back in exhaustion.

I let her break eye contact for that. She behaved, and I’m almost happy to leave it with that.

There would be something appealing about running into her on the street one day and seeing her remember how I once made her come but wasn’t interested in fucking her. She’d always wonder why.

Leaning down, I take her face in my hand and kiss her on the lips. She kisses me back, her breath so warm.

“I like you,” I tell her.

Our eyes meet, and she’s quiet for a few seconds. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” She smiles small and sweet. “I like you, too.”

My groin is so hard, it’s throbbing.

“We’re …” she starts saying in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard. “We’re not done, are we?”

I break into a smile.

Leaning back up, I pull out a condom, tear it open with my teeth, and watch her watch me roll the goddamn thing on.

Gripping her hip, I tell her, “Wider.”

Excitement gleams in her eyes, and she opens her legs so I can fit myself between her thighs, and I position myself at her entrance. I work the head in—once, twice—and then thrust, sheathing myself in her slick, warm pussy.

“Army,” she groans, letting her head fall back.

I pump, not taking anything slow anymore. Withdrawing, I push deep again and again, frantic to feel it all.

I moan, kissing her and biting her mouth, licking her tits and her neck, lost in her mouth and her arms.

“Krisjen,” I gasp, thrusting harder. “Our beautiful girl. Ours.”

“Yeah,” she says.

My chest sticks to hers, and I kiss her everywhere I can reach, pumping between her thighs.

But it’s too tight back here. Fucking car. I need to get deeper.

I rise up, and she looks stricken until I flip her over, and she realizes what I want. Wrapping her fingers around the handle to hold herself so the cuffs don’t chafe her wrists, she braces, hanging on as I yank her hips back and sink inside of her again.

“Oh,” she whispers, matching me thrust for thrust.

I pull her into me again and again, Krisjen arching her spine and backing up into me.

I reach around, palming her breast and smelling her hair as we grind as fast as we can, because we can’t go slow anymore.

“Army,” she cries out. “Don’t stop.”

The night outside the car is pitch black, the only sounds are our skin and her moans. She slams back into me, my cock sinking deep inside of her, and I glide my tongue up her back.

“I’m coming,” she cries.

I squeeze her body, trying to hold myself, but as soon as she goes off, her flesh tightening around me, I growl, letting myself explode.

Fire courses through my stomach and thighs, and I release, spilling. “Fuck!” I shout.

Her pussy contracts around me as she rides out her orgasm, and I flex every muscle, burying myself as deep as I can as I finish.

Jesus.

I fucking hate condoms, but she’s so tight I can’t even tell.

She drops, hanging more limply from the cuffs. “God,” she whispers.

I smile, knowing she came. I can tell when they do. They’re like boa constrictors on the inside when they’re coming. I taught myself what to do to make sure they do every time.

Spots fill my vision, the cop car tilting around me, but I clear, seeing the windows all fogged up.

I kiss her back through her shirt, grabbing the handlebar and pulling her up to ease the weight.

I’m about to turn her over and get her back to sitting so I can check her wrists to make sure she’s not hurt, but before I can, the car door is whipping open.

“All right, go,” Chavez snaps at us. “Jesus, y’all are crazy. What the hell?”

I look up, and there’s an arm reaching inside the car and holding out a ring of keys to me. He has one pinched between his fingers.

I take it, uncuffing Krisjen and handing them back.

Krisjen scrambles to dress as I pull up my jeans, condom still on.

“You owe me,” the cop says. “Get her into a real bed, and you better not have gotten anything on my seat.”

I smile, both of us jumping out of the car as fast as we can.

Once outside, the officers take off, and she and I are left to walk back to the house, but she’s just standing there, looking at me.

And as if on cue, we both start laughing.

She buries her head in her hands, and I hook an arm around her neck, kissing her hair.

“It’s okay.”

She brings her hands away, blushing. I think we can trust those two cops in particular not to tell stories, but even if not, it was worth it. For me anyway.

It was fucking amazing.

We make our way back to the house, and he can kick me out again, but I’m taking my kid this time.

I open the door for her, holding it wide and letting her go in first.

I see the small end table in the living room still lying on its side, and I stop her when we’re in the foyer. Pulling her to me, I kiss her forehead, feeling like I’ve grown new muscles in just the last hour. My body feels like it weighs ten pounds instead of a hundred and eighty.

“Go to bed.” I look down into her eyes. “If you want it again, then get into mine.”

She flexes her jaw, but the sudden rise in her chest and excitement in her eyes tells me exactly where I’ll find her when I go upstairs.

I watch her walk up, smelling the smoke before I see him.

Turning right, I find Macon in the chair in the corner next to the window. I can barely see his eyes in the dark as he pinches a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it to his lips.

He’s an inch taller than I am and his shoulders a lot wider, his time in the Marines sticking with him after all these years.

But I feel bigger than him now.

“This isn’t your house,” I say, stepping up to the frame between the living room and foyer. “This was our parents’ home. And all that dirty money you used to build our family’s presence was money I helped you make.”

I’m valuable.

“I work, and I talk to our customers,” I continue, “because you can’t deal with people, and they sure as shit can’t deal with you. All of this is as much mine as it is yours.”

I gesture to the house, but I mean Sanoa-fucking-Bay, as well.

I pause for a moment, thinking. “But I also know I would’ve lost the Bay years ago without you,” I tell him. “I can’t do what you do. I don’t have the stomach.”

Tryst Six is a blessing to some and a target to others, but it’s always respected, and it wouldn’t exist without him.

But I do play a part.

I take another step, not blinking. “I’m going to have another kid. Maybe a few more, and maybe it’ll be with Krisjen, or another Saint, or maybe someone else, but I want a family in this house again, and you’re going to shut up about it.” I grind my teeth. “Because you know Dallas and Trace will follow me if I leave you, because they can’t deal with you, either.”

He stares at me, and I wait for something from him.

But he says nothing.

I shake my head, turning, and head out of the room.

I stop at the stairs and look at him once more. “You know …”

I force down the lump in my throat.

“I hate what we had to do to put food on the table back then.”

My breathing shakes a little. “But those are honestly my favorite memories because we were together. It was just you and me, barely adults ourselves, and Liv, Iron, Dallas, and Trace could be kids. They’ll never know what we went through and how close we came to getting killed or arrested so many times. And I never wanted them to, because it was our secret. Yours and mine.” I feel my eyes burn with the tears I won’t let fall. “Something you and I had, just between us. We were brothers, and you used to talk to me.”

The dark figure in the chair doesn’t move, and I’m no longer budging. I’m not leaving my house.

I walk up the stairs, Krisjen coming out of the bathroom and wrapping an arm around my waist from behind as she follows me into my bedroom.