Chapter 13
The first real kiss of my life doesn’t sneak in like a whisper. It rips me open like a knife wound, messy and aching. I’ve been so starved for this and didn’t know how empty I was until now.
Her lips feel warm and hungry, matching me beat for beat. Maybe she’s been waiting for this, too. Waiting for a man who missed out on kissing his whole life.
With years of exploration to make up for, I map her mouth like it’s the last frontier on Earth, my tongue dipping into every groove, learning the shape of her sighs and the density of her breath.
Straddling my lap, she digs her knees into the sides of my hips, and suddenly, the kiss isn’t slow anymore.
Her hands knot in my hair, pulling and demanding. Mine slide under the hem of her tank top, up her back, feeling the curve of her spine, the heat of her skin. She’s magnificent.
We shift and grip and press, her thighs clenching around me, my fingers digging into her waist as I wrench her closer, trying to melt us together.
We kiss until our lips are raw. Until my tongue goes numb. Until I know every secret hollow inside her mouth, and her taste permanently fuses with mine. There’s nothing gentle about it. Nothing careful. It bruises into memory and sets the benchmark for all that come after.
At some point, I carry her upstairs, our lips locked together. She’s light but fierce, clinging to me as if I’ll disappear.
I lower her onto her bed and tuck the blankets around her. She’s so sensual and precious, and when our lips finally part, our foreheads remain touching.
“I need to talk to my family.” I brush the hair from her face.
“At five in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
Frankie often works early, and I need to raise the alarms before she heads to the hospital.
Dove’s eyes, glazed with sleep, darken with worry. And doubt.
“Hey.” I cup her face, my thumb roving her cheek. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. I swear to you, whatever this is between us, I’m in. You don’t have to trust the world. Just trust me. And sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She nods, but her hand catches mine as I stand. She doesn’t grip, just holds, reminding me she exists.
I press a kiss to her knuckles and slip free. It’s not easy. But keeping her safe means staying proactive. So I force my ass out of the room, out of the guest house, and into the pre-dawn morning.
Tugging up my hood, I make my way through the trees. My boots squish against the soft earth still damp from last night’s rain. The house looms ahead, the massive stone monster that shouldn’t feel like home.
But my brothers live there. And my father. And my Frankie, who’s carrying my favorite future sister or brother. Technically, the baby will be my cousin since Monty had a vasectomy.
Who cares? If it’s all the same to them, I want to be a big brother and call this island home.
Out back, under the wide awning of the porch, I spot them.
Leo, Kody, and Monty lounge on the outdoor sectional, wrapped in fleece and hoodie layers, hands curled around steaming mugs, staring at the flames flickering from the fire table.
A carafe of coffee waits on the sideboard, surrounded by a butcher block tray stacked with breakfast sandwiches, halved bagels, and foil-wrapped egg burritos. Probably Kody’s doing.
The bear with eyes as black as soot is the first to glance my way, lifting his chin in a silent You good? gesture.
Oblivious, Leo laughs with a mouthful of food, muffling whatever joke Monty made.
Monty leans back like a king, a mug in one hand, his other resting comfortably on the back of Leo’s seat.
They’re not touching exactly, but the space between them is nonexistent. Legs brushing. Shoulders bumping. A shared language in every shift of their weight, every glance.
Leo’s foot nudges Monty’s absently as he reaches for another burrito. Kody tears his in half to share. Like they’ve done this a hundred times. Maybe they have.
Feels like I’m intruding on something sacred.
“There he is.” Leo finally clocks me with a crooked tilt of his mouth. “Were your ears burning?”
“Only the important ones.” I sit on the porch steps, not too close but not too far either.
“She settling in okay?” Monty sips his coffee.
“Right now, she’s just trying to breathe.”
They all share looks, knowing exactly how those first breaths feel after drowning. But underneath their empathy, there’s a cautious undercurrent between them. Uncertainty about their new house guest.
“Where’s Frankie?” I glance over my shoulder into the dark kitchen.
“Late night at the hospital.” Leo chomps on his burrito, talking with his mouth full. “We’re letting her sleep.”
“No morning sex?” Eyes bulging, I bite my knuckles. “Oh, no.”
He flips me off without looking up from his second favorite thing in the world. Food.
They’re strange. All three of them. Beautiful and strange.
They don’t talk about it, what it means to share her, what it feels like, but it’s there in every glance, every casual touch.
The way Leo leans his head against Monty’s shoulder for half a second before reaching for more coffee.
The way Kody’s knuckles brush Leo’s thigh as he grabs a napkin.
The way Monty looks at both of them with something between pride and possession.
It’s not sexual. But it’s intimate. Like a braided rope. Three strands, different colors, different textures, woven so tight I would need a blade to separate them.
Before Monty entered the scene, I was the third in the brotherhood. I still am, but Leo’s and Kody’s relationship with me is different than their relationship with Monty. Not lesser. Just different.
I watch them for a while. The way they exist together. The quiet rhythm of shared intimacy and loving the same woman without jealousy. It’s not about ownership with them. It’s about devotion. Like monks at the altar of Frankie Strakh.
A soft wind blows in from the trees. The sky bruises purple. Monty slugs back the dregs of his coffee.
Time to start the conversation I came for. “What have you found on Jag Rath?”
That sobers them instantly.
“I ran his name through my contacts.” Monty leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Interpol has a red notice for him under different aliases. Cyberterrorism. Fraud. Murder. He’s connected to The Shadow Collection.”
“Never heard of it.”
“The group sells women out of Texas and California.” Disgust flashes across Kody’s face. “Your runaway bride wasn’t wrong to run.”
“We also traced several shell companies in South America back to his IP.” Monty sets his mug down. “All funded through offshore accounts. This guy isn’t just dirty. He’s fucking radioactive.”
“Dove said he’s left a trail of carnage since she was eight.
” I exhale slowly. “She and Jag watched someone murder their parents, and he’s been controlling her life since.
He became her guardian and treated her like a burden.
He used her. Scared her.” I tell them everything she told me and the bits I pieced together. “She came to Sitka to kill him.”
“She had the opportunity when she aimed a gun at him and didn’t take it.” Monty narrows his eyes. “What’s her plan now?”
“Work, save money, and run far away.” I rake a hand through my hair, knocking off my hood. “But I’m certain she still has revenge on the mind. He’s returning to Sitka tonight.”
“How do you know?” Leo asks.
“She got a text from him. He’ll come for her. Probably doesn’t know she’s here yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Monty exchanges a glance with Kody and Leo. It’s fast and efficient. A silent agreement. Then he turns back to me.
“Untangle yourself from this,” he says in a steel-edged voice. “Send her away.”
He’s never used that tone on me, and it lands like a scalpel across my chest.
I laugh. Once. A hollow sound scraped straight from the marrow. Then I stand, slowly, because my sudden, protective rage requires unwrapping. “I’m not one of your fuck boys, Monty. I’m not yours to command, and she’s not yours to dismiss.”
“Out of line!” Leo launches to his feet, finger stabbing the air toward me, fire blazing in his mismatched eyes. “Talk to Monty like that again, and I swear to God—”
“Swear to God what?” I shift closer. “You gonna teach me a lesson, Leo? A lesson on how to let unprotected women die? You’re good at that.”
It’s a low blow. He blames himself for the deaths of the women in Hoss, but it wasn’t his fault. Not entirely.
“This isn’t about your new friend.” His fists flex at his sides, nostrils flaring. “It’s about you treating Monty like shit because you can’t stand taking orders.”
“Oh, fuck you.” I study the displeased faces of my family. “Look, I don’t need your permission. With or without your support, I’ll tear this town apart to keep my girl safe.”
“Your girl?” Leo’s eyes widen, disbelieving. “Come on, Wolf. You barely know her. You can’t just dive in headfirst and think that loving her hard enough will fix the cracks inside you.”
That does it. I grab the first thing within reach, an empty coffee mug off the sideboard, and hurl it.
Leo ducks, and it explodes against the concrete behind him, shards flying.
Kody stands. No words. Just the quiet scrape of his chair legs, his posture stone-still. The signal. The moment before someone bleeds.
If Frankie were here, she’d shut this shit down with one look. But I handled these pillow humpers for twenty years before she showed up. I don’t need a damn chaperone now.
As I plant my legs, bracing for a fight, Monty’s cold command whips across the patio.
“Stand down.” He looks at Kody, then me, and wraps his fingers around Leo’s hand.
Leo jerks like he’ll resist, but Monty rises and puts his lips near Leo’s ear.
I don’t hear what Monty says, but the fight slowly leaks from Leo’s shoulders like steam escaping a cracked pipe. His breathing slows. His glare loses its venom. Then he nods and drops to the couch with Monty at his side.
“All right.” Monty trains his ice-blue eyes on me as the air continues to crackle. “Say your piece, Son.”