8. Harrison
8
HARRISON
I ’ve had a lot of filthy fucking dreams.
This one is the best.
Raegan, the woman who’s graced every one of my fantasies since the day she ripped me a new one at a friend’s wedding, is on her knees. She licks a line up my cock, and my arse clenches as I tug on her hair.
I want her to get serious.
I want her to tease me for goddamned ever.
It’s understandable I’d be hard as a bloody teenager the night after I broke down her door, decided to do whatever it took to bring her back to me, only to have her surprise me in my own bathroom. Practically naked. Startlingly beautiful.
The next time we had sex again—I never let myself believe there wouldn’t be another time, though during a couple of dark nights, that thought tried to drag me down—I vowed I would be in control. Show her exactly what she’s been missing.
But there was no finesse when I took her against the wall. Only raw need, frustration twined around a shriveled black heart that’s only ever beat for her.
Now, I’m thinking of all the things we didn’t get a chance to do last night.
When I blink my eyes open, the dream gets better.
“Thank fuck,” I groan as Raegan comes into focus, her dark hair in sexy tangles around her flushed face. “I was afraid I’d open my eyes and find it was the dog.”
“If Barney gives head this good, I’m going to be concerned.” Her eyes flash as she rocks back on her heels. The sheet is wrapped around her decadent body, and I want to rip it away.
“Never. You’re far better.” I shift up on my elbows. “But something isn’t right.”
“Because I’m naked in your bed?”
“Because it’s”—I check the bedside clock—”eight thirty and you’re awake.”
“I get up early now, asshole.”
Those six words hurt.
Because they remind me I’ve missed out on her life.
She shifts away, and I grab her wrist, tugging her back over me. I press my lips to the tattoo. I hate that she marked herself without my knowing. Without my even knowing she wanted to.
I lace my fingers in hers, pulling her arms down so I can suck one of her nipples. Her back arches, pressing more of her perfect flesh against my mouth as she adjusts her hips across mine. Her wetness glides across my cock, teasing, and I growl.
“Any man who’s touched you? I can fuck him out of your head,” I promise. “Because I know you in here.” I thread my hand in her hair, brushing it back and stroking her temple with my thumb. “And here.” I press my other hand to her heart, the steady rhythm thudding beneath my palm.
I’m not angry—I’m determined. Committed.
“I didn’t come back for you, Harrison.”
Her words land like a blow I wasn’t prepared for.
I recover. “For Ash, then.”
She shakes her head. “I’m playing La Mer. I went to see Mischa.”
Every muscle in my body is tight. Hearing that name on her lips in my bed makes me flip her so fast the sheets get caught between us. “You did what ?”
“He has a house in Ibiza. I took a meeting with him yesterday before you showed up.” She starts to slide out from under me.
No.
I pin her hands next to her head, locking her hips under mine. The expression on her face is irritation, not fear, and that makes me angrier.
How the fuck could she think to just walk in and speak to him?
Everything I’ve been working toward is a path to ending Ivanov—not to avenge my parents, the way I’d always intended, but to preserve my future. And if I accomplish that, I hope it can be Rae’s future too.
Raegan won’t have a future if she puts herself in harm’s way.
“He’s dangerous,” I say.
“I understand.”
“Clearly you don’t. How am I just finding this out now?”
“I should’ve told you before or after we fucked in the bathroom?” She shifts out of bed and grabs one of my shirts from the closet. “You should probably get dressed. Unless you’re hoping Barney will fix that situation for you“—a nod at my cock—“because I’m not going to.”
Raegan buttons the shirt and slips out of the room, leaving the door ajar and me speechless.
* * *
RAE
“Senorita!” Natalia declares as I come down the stairs, showered and dressed in denim shorts and a flowy black shirt.
“It’s so good to see you.” I’m not big on gestures, but when the housekeeper hugs me, I can’t help returning the squeeze a little.
“Nothing for me?” Ash drawls as he comes down the stairs after me.
Natalia shakes a fist at him. “You made Toro lose money betting on your team.”
“You should’ve bet on the other team,” Harrison comments from the kitchen.
“We can’t. You’re family.”
The three of us enter the kitchen, where Harrison is barefoot and drinking an espresso from the machine.
“Lose the French press?” I quip as I get a glass for water.
He stiffens as I brush his hip reaching for the cupboard.
When I mentioned La Mer in bed, he looked at me like a vengeful god ready to rain down fury on hapless mortals. He’s clearly not over it.
“On the patio,” he bites out before I’ve had a chance to take a sip. “I don’t want Natalia worrying about this.”
We head out to the patio overlooking the ocean and take seats on opposite sides of the table.
“Talk.”
Though I don’t owe him an explanation, Mischa is his nemesis. I understand why he’s taken aback.
“I played Wild Fest this year. My career hasn’t just recovered. It’s exploded,” I say. “When the top one hundred list came out, I was swimming in offers. The single I released last fall got new life. I have money.”
Sometimes it still feels like a dirty secret.
“I don’t own a house, but I could. I could support not only my cousin’s charity but half a dozen more.”
His jaw works as if he’s proud of what I’ve done but disinclined to deviate from the point he dragged me out here to talk about. “You realize it’s not because of the list. It’s because of you. You embracing who you are. Playing with joy.”
His gaze drops to my wrist, where I’m fingering the tattoo.
It doesn’t feel like joy lately . But I don’t say that. “I want to play La Mer. That hasn’t changed.”
The warmth behind his eyes is banked. “Only thing that hasn’t.”
He rises and crosses to a hedge of bright-yellow flowers, pulls off a dead bloom, and tosses it away.
I want to ask why he left the way he did. If it was worth breaking up what we had.
But I’m afraid of the answers. If he says it was worthwhile, it’ll hurt all over again.
If he says it wasn’t… then what? We can’t go backward. I’ve started to build a future on my own terms, gigs around the world, even if they don’t satisfy the way I thought they would.
There’s no way I’d give this man a chance to break my heart again. I’ve done brave things in my life, and stupid ones. Inviting in a man who makes me feel as if I’ll never be as worthy as his vendetta would be the most foolish.
“You must have changed too,” I say.
“My parents were liars,” he says abruptly. “Building a legacy for them is moot.”
The hurt in his voice has my chest tightening. “What are you talking about?”
“After Tyler and Annie’s housewarming, I received a call from my investigator confirming my parents’ life was a lie. They weren’t trying to get out, Raegan. If Mischa or his parents killed them, it was to prove a point. For internal justice. Not because they were leaving.”
Horror washes over me. I close my fingers around my mug to avoid reaching for him. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Mischa burned down the club that night. I didn’t have a chance.”
I can only imagine what he was going through.
He spent his life trying to do penance for what he thought was his fault—that his parents were getting out of the Ivanov’s business on account of him and died trying. It must feel as if he never knew them. The anger he must have, the questions… None of which he’ll ever get a satisfying answer to.
Fuck. It’s not as if this changes everything, but I wish he’d told me.
“So, why continue trying to bury Ivanov?”
Harrison rubs a hand through his hair, looking the kind of rough-around-the-edges he rarely shows the world but shows me because of what we are. What we were .
“He’s already shaped my past. Not only through his actions, but indirectly, through who I thought my parents were. He’s had even more influence than he realizes. I won’t let him have my future.”
The edge in his voice makes me wonder if he only means his clubs or if that extends to me too. If he was afraid to commit to a future with me so long as Ivanov had a chance of shattering it.
Even if he was, it can’t make up for him leaving. But it lets me understand this complicated man a little more, and it makes me want to help.
“He’s running drugs through the clubs. Not just his own,” I hear myself say. “He’s made himself a nuisance at Bliss. And I saw one of his guys at Wild Fest.”
Harrison’s expression darkens. “Wild Fest… I didn’t realize he had territory in America.”
“I’ve seen his people at parties in London.” Ash appears in the doorway, hands in his pockets. From his face, I’m guessing he didn’t hear the part about his parents.
“You knew it was Mischa’s people?” I ask, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets.
He looks away. “Yeah.”
“How can you know?” Harrison presses.
“I just fucking do.”
Silence falls over us. I think of the coldness in Mischa’s eyes before he hit me that night at Debajo. Then last summer, the unforgiving flames devouring every inch of wood, scarring the metal that would have been Kings.
He’s the kind of man who would stop at nothing to prove a point.
Harrison pulls out his phone. “Leni. I know you’re on holiday. I need you in Ibiza.”
There’s a response, agitated but not clear enough that I can make out the words.
“I’ll make it up to you. Buy you a damn surf school when this is all over.” Pause. “Yes, you can get that in writing.”
I exchange a look with Ash.
“You’ve seen what he does. I have to end this.” Harrison says it to both of us when he hangs up, but he’s looking at me.
I don’t answer. Even if he’s right and Mischa’s evil—the kind of evil that should be extinguished for the benefit of all—his words remind me that I’ll never compete with this burning need to see justice done.
“Law enforcement has been monitoring him for a while, but it could still take years to bring him down,” Harrison says. “His parents kept their illegitimate operations under wraps being judicious. Mischa is less discreet. But so far, he hasn’t slipped up enough to be caught. He rewards loyalty quickly and punishes betrayal even faster.”
A shiver runs through me.
“If he’s running drugs through clubs beyond his own, outside of Ibiza, we have a hope of catching him. If the management team at Bliss will cooperate,” Harrison adds.
I think of how upset the man was. “They’re more afraid of Mischa than the law.”
He turns to Ash. “What club were you at in London? And why were you even noticing people dealing?”
Ash shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to admit to his brother what really went down. “I’ll tell the police. But I don’t want to tell you.”
“For fuck’s sake?—“
“Harrison.” I grab his arm, and he turns incredulous blue eyes on me. “I saw a dealer in both places. The club owner confirmed he was Mischa’s.”
“The man won’t flip. Mischa has a stranglehold on this island.”
I lean in. “I’m playing again this week. I’ll talk to him. And I need to follow up with Mischa.”
Harrison seems to draw himself up even taller. “You will do nothing of the sort.”
“We’ll move back to the hotel today,” I say, ignoring him and turning to Ash.
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Ash grabs his phone and heads to the far side of the patio.
“I will not watch you put yourself in harm’s way,” Harrison bites out once his brother’s out of earshot. He grabs my arm, and I jump more from surprise than his grip.
The sex we had last night doesn’t change anything. Not really.
My chin angles up. “Because you’re the only one allowed to hurt me?”
His eyes soften as they search mine, and I see the man I fell for. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not.” The breeze captures my hair and blows it across my face. “Mischa and Zachary never promised to love me before they hurt me.”
I take advantage of Harrison’s stunned silence to pull out of his hold and head for the door.