16. Paul
16
Paul
W ith his fingers in his hair, Paul gripped the tips and yanked as he let out a thunderous roar in the backyard of the safe house. Everything was a mess. Normally, every move he made was calculated, well thought out, planned to a goddamn T—but then Harper happened.
Fucking Harper .
It got him shot last time, and now… who the hell knew.
She was his dangerous addiction. Every taste he got of her, it wasn’t enough. He had to have more. No matter the consequences. He’d never be satisfied. All rational thought left his mind in her presence. The only thing that mattered was having her.
He’d thrust his family into an unnecessary war because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Blowing out a heavy breath, he ran his fingers along his forehead to work out the headache booming in his skull. He paced back and forth while considering what he’d do next.
Paul had to kill her. It’s what he’d said he’d do. He wasn’t the type to go back on his word, but he couldn’t bring himself to truly harm the knife-wielding beauty. She had a grip on his soul and wouldn’t let go.
He wasn’t sure he wanted her to.
They were never officially a couple. Even their little tryst only lasted a few weeks. That was all it took for her to take up residency in his brain for years. Every person he’d been with since, he compared to her—and they never measured up.
None of them were as smart, sassy, witty, or as beautiful as Harper Myers—the tattooed lawyer daughter of the biker president who wanted nothing more than to distance herself from criminals. She left Oklahoma to live a legitimate life.
He couldn’t blame her. Being part of a syndicate, whether they dressed in expensive couture or leather, wasn’t for the faint of heart. Not everyone was cut out for it.
She is.
He dismissed the thought.
It was a useless inkling. Whether or not she could endure the highs and lows, the dangers and the rewards of a life on the wrong side of the law was inconsequential because she’d made a very conscious choice to reject it. She’d not only left the town but the state, moving hundreds of miles away to escape it. As far as he could tell, she’d lived a very successful and happy life.
Unfortunately, men like him weren’t fond of rejection. They didn’t like to hear no when they really wanted something. The wrong side of the tracks wanted Harper. It came back with a vengeance and said if it couldn’t have her, no one could.
Shaking his head, he dropped onto the back steps and hung his head in his hands. This shit was beyond screwed up. He couldn’t kill her. It wasn’t in him. The irony of the situation was like salt in the gash in his side.
Murder was his specialty. It’s how he made a name for himself within his syndicate. All the other families knew him to be the most talented at it. Quick and efficient. Yet when Harper became his target, he wilted like a goddamn flower in the heat.
What was he supposed to do now that he’d gone soft?
The squeak of the screen door opening behind him drew his attention and tore him out of his wallowing. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Eddie looking out over the acreage of land they owned.
After a few seconds, he stepped down the stairs and sat beside Paul. He rested his forearms over his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees. He said nothing. It looked as though he were merely enjoying the view.
On a sigh, Paul slowly brought his gaze to the patchy grass-covered yard. He supposed there was enough space to have a farm if they were so inclined. That would take work, though. He didn’t have the time for that, so the land sat empty, unused, and unkempt. Just like the rest of the homes in the area.
They blended in with the distant neighbors—like they wanted to.
Finally, his brother cleared his throat. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Paul answered honestly.
Eddie nodded. “Dad’s got your back on this.”
Paul shifted his jaw back and forth as he considered those words. “He shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Paul should’ve never acted on the bounty. “Ignoring the price on her head would’ve been best for the family.”
He didn’t want to get into how Harper was his Achilles’ heel. She always had been. His brother was smart. It was beyond clear. He didn’t have the self-control necessary to restrain himself with her.
Years ago, when he was in his twenties, everyone chalked it up to youth. He didn’t have that excuse in his thirties. She was his weakness. He should’ve let someone else take her out. If for no other reason than she couldn’t be used against him. Men like him couldn’t have people in their life, especially women, who meant anything to them. It was dangerous for everyone involved.
“I mean, we were all kind of shocked you wanted the job so bad, but we know.”
Paul furrowed his brow and stared at his brother. “Know what?”
“We get it,” Eddie said.
“What the hell are you talking about? What it ?” If his brother didn’t start making sense, Paul would stab him in the neck with a dull stick off the ground.
Eddie eyed him as though Paul understood what he meant.
Paul focused on a rather long, kind of pointy twig on the ground.
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t get it ?” Eddie laughed.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now, and it’s pissing me off that you won’t just come out and say it.”
“Harper’s like…” Eddie waved his hands in the air, making some sort of weird circle gesture.
Paul just stared at him, void of any understanding.
“She’s your one.”
“One what?”
Groaning, Eddie slapped his hand to his forehead. “You cannot be this oblivious.”
“Could you just say what you mean?” Paul snapped. His patience was beyond thin.
Sighing, his brother rolled his eyes to the sky. “Okay, how about this? Put your hand in your pocket.”
Paul drew his brows together. “Why?”
“Just humor me.”
Tentatively, he slid his hand into the front pocket of his trousers.
“Is something in there?” Eddie asked leadingly.
“Yeah.” Where was he going with this?
“What is it?”
From his pocket, Paul produced a small, quite scratched and worn metal refillable lighter with a flip top and a skull with wings etched into it. Pinching it between his fingers, he showed it to his brother.
Wearing a knowing smirk, Eddie lifted his brows. “Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Then why do you carry that?” he asked, jabbing his index finger at it.
“Because—” Paul stopped his words before they slipped out of his mouth.
Because Harper gave it to him.
Eddie snapped his fingers. “Now you’re getting it.”
Staring at the object, he rolled it so it lay flat on his palm. This tiny, largely useless to him, sentimental object had been in his pocket for over a decade. He’d never used it, but it was imperative that he kept it on him because of Harper.
Clenching his teeth, he curled his fingers around it and squeezed. Dammit. It was obvious. Other people knew.
He cut his glare away from his brother. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault. This was entirely on him.
“So.” Eddie slapped at his back. “What are you going to do?”