Tracing Scars (KORT #3)

CHAPTER NINE

TY

I ’m coasting through my senior year. Everything has gone as planned. Today, Coach informed me Vanderbilt is going to offer me a spot. That’s been my top pick. I’ve already had offers from Arkansas and Mississippi State. Florida’s still a possibility. I’m overwhelmed with choices at this point. I should be on top of the world.

But today has been the worst day of my life. Worse than when my dad died in a car accident. I was too young to be disillusioned then. Too young to grasp the cruelty of it. To understand the ramifications that a single second can inflict on all your days to come.

My stomach is lodged in my throat, sick about what Steve admitted when I confronted him this morning. I wanted to kill him. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. But as the words fell from his mouth, I could have ended him. With my bare hands. Squeezing the evil breath from his lungs. The visual was palpable. And it wasn’t the only one. The knife block. The extension cord. Everything felt like an instrument to dispense my rage for what he’d been doing to my sisters.

He cried, apologizing and promising he’d confess to my mother and leave to get help. I may not have harmed him, but I can’t find it in me to sympathize with him. I want my mom to have the chance to show her daughters she’ll protect them. She deserves that. And they need it. I hope she’s already turned the fucker over to the police.

If not, I’ll take my sisters away until I know they’re safe. I’ll be eighteen in three months. I’ll figure it out. Coach might help us.

I don’t know why my mind always jumps to the worst. Of course Mom will protect them. She loves him, but not more than us. They’ve only been married two years. She won’t choose him.

The leaves crunch beneath my feet, crackling as I stomp up the walkway, dreading the drama. The pain. I know Ella and Audrey will be embarrassed, ashamed. They must feel so scared and lonely. My gut flips again, bottoming out and clambering back to my throat.

Why didn’t I see it sooner? How did I not notice? I wish they had felt comfortable talking to me. Will they ever be okay?

A squeak slices through me as I wrench open the screen door. I’ve been meaning to oil that. I told Mom I’d get to it, but it keeps slipping my mind. Dropping my backpack on the entryway bench, I trek through the hallway. The house feels still and oppressive. Not quite right. The setting sunlight trickles in, dancing in the floating dust like a dare. A beckoning. My steps slow, as if I were trudging through snow, and as I round the corner, the living room topples. The rancid stench of smoke and cabbage and rotten eggs nearly makes me retch.

My brain short-circuits. Nothing makes sense.

Bloody brown hair. Audrey.

What the fuck?

I stumble forward, dizzy from the smell and the scene unfolding before me.

Four bodies. Coal eyes. A gun. And blood. So much fucking blood. The gray carpet is crimson. So is her skin.

I can hear their shrieks. Their pleas. They won’t quit screaming and crying. And I can’t stop the bleeding.

Flash and fade.

I’m outside, wrapped in a charcoal-colored blanket. It’s night and cold, and bright white lights sting my eyes, swirling reds and blues obscuring the trees and houses and silhouettes of people. How did I get here?

“Where are they?” I murmur.

“You’re still in shock, honey. You keep coming in and out. Give it a minute before you ask questions.” She’s young, not much older than me. A paramedic.

I’m in an ambulance.

My body trembles as nonsensical rambling flows out of me. “Ella. Did I see Ella? Did you? Where is she? Audrey’s gone. No. No. No. No. No. I mean … I heard her screaming. She was crying. Or I imagined it. Was it in my head? It wasn’t coming from their mouths. And bloody. They were bloody. Sticky. But Mom … I don’t think she … Where’s Ella?”

The EMT pales. She looks stricken. Lips quivering. Red-rimmed eyes creasing.

My coach steps in front of me, a hand curled over my shoulder. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Andrew.”

Why is he here? He said he’d see me tomorrow. Someone called him because no one else is left. No. That’s not right.

“Ella. I didn’t see Ella. Did I? Take me to Ella.”

Flash and fade.

I’m in the village, perched on an elevated mound. We succeeded in our SEALs mission and uncovered the terrorist camp, but they seized the town in defense. There’s nothing but desecrated buildings and trash and death. Heaps of concrete. We’re clearing civilians the best we can. Ricci carries up a little girl. She’s about eleven or twelve. Sobbing. Shaking. A lady follows behind—must be the girl’s mom by the resemblance—and both tuck in close to me.

“Best I could do,” he shouts over the booming crashes of bombs. “They have to stay with you.”

This isn’t the safest place to corral them, but we’re under fire. So, anywhere is better than down there.

I mutter a few calming words to them in their native tongue while I stay zeroed in on my marks, announcing my kills into the comm. The woman and her daughter are silent, quivering from fear, until the little girl starts squealing. There’s a man her eyes are set on, but as I line him up in my sights, her mother screeches that he raped her daughter. Blood stains the girl’s thighs. I didn’t notice.

Flash and fade.

I’m on top of the motherfucker, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing.

“Stand down, Michaels!”

“Michaels, enough!” Petrovsky wrestles me away as Chief seizes my knife.

Fuck, I snapped. “I don’t … I mean … he … sorry, Chief, I—”

They can’t hear me. Is my mouth moving? I don’t have a voice.

“Get him out of here,” Chief orders, scanning over me. “I’ll be—”

The building we’re in front of explodes, blasting the three of us backward. Ricci too.

Fire and dust and rubble.

Injured.

Caught.

Prisoners.

Tortured.

Flash and fade.

I’m in the ambulance. How did I get back here? The EMT is dabbing at tears on her cheeks. How’d she get here?

Coach shakes his head at me, and his face twists, eyes morphing to coal. “None of them made it. I’m sorry. They’re gone.” His glower adopts a more pointed sneer. “Rena didn’t make it.”

“What did you say?” I scrub my hands over my face. Why was she here? She wouldn’t be. No. No. No. There’s still time. I can make it. “That’s a lie! Where the fuck is she? Rena!”

He just stares, wordless. But those eyes—Steve’s eyes. He’s gloating. The bastard raped her. He stole her innocence, like theirs. I rip the surgical forceps off the wall and plunge it into his heart.

“Ty! Ty, wake up! You’re okay.”

I spring upright. My fists are gripping something. Rena’s tank top .

“Oh, fuck, baby.” My breaths are too stilted to speak smoothly. Wheezes whistle from my lungs as I inspect her up and down for bruises, patting her everywhere. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she says, but there are tears streaming down her cheeks, so I don’t believe her.

“I’m so sorry.” My hands cup her precious face, and my tumultuous heartbeat plagues my speech. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, baby girl. What did I—”

“Ty, you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine. But you …” She sucks in some air, composing herself as she reaches around my hold on her jaw to wipe her wet cheeks. “What the hell happened to you?” Those wet fingertips move to my forehead, feathering over my skin to brush back a rogue curl.

Exhaling, I peck her nose. The salty tear beaded on the tip soaks into my lip. Relieved she’s unharmed, I lie back down to settle my racing pulse. That’s also the instant I realize that she’s straddling me, her cunt lined up perfectly with my dick. Fuck, I wish that were for a different circumstance.

“Talk to me,” she urges. It isn’t soft or tentative, like I’d have expected. Again, that could be so fucking hot in other scenarios.

“Bad dream. That’s all.” I squeeze her thighs.

Her tiny shorts are hiked up to her hips. All that stands between my fingers and the forbidden is a few more inches and a thin scrap of fabric. Maybe two if she’s wearing panties. Perilous. I can smell her, but I steady my breathing and try to push that to the back of my mind.

“That wasn’t a bad dream,” she insists. “That was … terror.”

It must be dawn. An orangish glow illuminates her, almost giving her complexion the shade it has in summertime, when she spends her days by the pool. Her hair is a tangled mess, a pink-and-blonde lion’s mane. And I can still feel the way her pillowy lips felt pressed to mine, the way her tongue moved, fluid and eager. Hungry yet seeking my command. It just about killed me to pull away .

“You were so distraught,” she continues, her voice suddenly small. Broken. “Who’s Ella? And what language was that?”

I sigh and cover half my face with my forearm. If I refuse to answer, she’ll jump to conclusions. “Pashto. And Ella was my sister.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “And Audrey? Also a sister?” She doesn’t assign past tense to that, so she can evidently read a room. But the questions still loiter in the space between us.

“Yes.” I lower my arm back to her leg, skating my thumb over her satiny skin.

I don’t want to talk about them. To tell her how I had the chance to save them and didn’t. To admit how one cowardly choice ruined countless lives. Rena looks at me like I’m invincible, like I could hand her the heavens. As much as I need to convince her to stay away from me, I also don’t want her to know that KORT and her brothers aren’t the only factors in that argument.

Hell is all I’ve ever had to offer.

But I can’t bear to reveal that now, to watch the torch she holds for me be snuffed out.

Maybe that’s why I discard my resolve from a few hours ago and say something I shouldn’t. “You’re wet, baby girl. I can feel you.”

She is. She’s leaking onto my boxers. Must’ve had a better dream than I did or maybe being frightened did it. I’d love to know what makes her tick. What her fantasies are. How she likes to be touched. She mentioned choking. I’m not sure I could carry that out. Risk hurting her. If that’s what she needed, I’d figure it out. Do my research. I may even be eager to watch her gorgeous eyes flutter before she erupted with pleasure.

“No. I’m … not. I’m worried about you.” Her gaze flicks downward, avoiding me. She’s shyer than she claims to be. Growing up with brothers who run a casino and a sex club exposed her to enough that she talks a big game, but I don’t think she feels that brazen.

“Shh.” I skim my fingers over her thighs, relishing the bumps sprouting on them. I much prefer the direction I’m steering this conversation to the one she is, so I don’t detour. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m exactly where I want to be, and you’re all riled up. Needy.”

She shakes her head, still averting eye contact.

“Look at me,” I order, abandoning her leg to clutch her chin. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide. That’s not how this works with us.”

“Us?” She slants her head, an indignant smirk hitching up one corner of her lips. “Did I miss a discussion while I was sleeping? Is there an us?”

I’m fucking this all up. Toying with her. I’d give her the world if I could. Anything she wanted. But that’s not what she’ll get with me. Taking her would be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Either way will hurt like hell—finally losing the only girl I’ve ever longed for or knowing I ruined her. But walking away means she’d have the chance at being safe and happy, growing old … with someone else.

Fucking hell. Bile singes my throat as I croak out, “There shouldn’t be.”

She shrugs, hurling her arms into the air. “Then you don’t get to decide how anything works with me. You want ownership over any part of me, Ty? My decisions. My dreams. My body. Then you have to step up.”

There’s anger and sadness woven into her tone that I don’t want to acknowledge. Anguish I put there. But I can eliminate some of that pain—at least for a few minutes. Which is only mildly selfish.

My hands cruise up her bare thighs again, fingers curling over her hips beneath the shorts to feel the supple curve of her ass. “You’re right. So ignore everything else and use me tonight. Your pussy is dripping all over my boxers, soaking me. You need to come. Can you feel how hard I am beneath you?”

As I rock her over my hard cock, her eyes close on what seems to be an involuntary gasp.

“You do that to me. I might not have answers for you yet. And when I do, they might not be the ones either of us wants. But I can’t deny the way you affect me. Use me, baby girl. ”

Her eyelids pop open on a swallow. “I like it when you call me that.”

“Baby girl?”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip and nods as she wiggles ever so slightly in search of what she needs. “And Little Moon. Like I’m yours.”

She is, even if she can’t be. I think she’s always been mine and always will be in some way. No matter what happens between us.

But for the first time in forever, I can’t seem to dwell on the what-if consequences. Not when her beautiful face is staring back at me, resolute nipples begging me to pay attention.

My grip tightens, and I shift her hips again, rougher this time so she can’t resist. “I need to see you come more than I need my next breath. Be a good girl and move for me.”

Scrunching my shirt up to my chest, she scratches her nails over my flesh, trailing from the waistband of my boxers to my upper abs and back in an agonizing lure. “And what about you, sailor?”

“Well, I’m the one fucking this all up.” My chest rises against her fingertips with each deliberate breath, and my voice is so husky; it’s barely recognizable. “So it seems only fair that I suffer through it. See the ecstasy paint your angelic face, watch your tits and porn-star nipples bounce, feel your weeping cunt glide over me and not be able to partake. Right?”

“Right,” she agrees, rolling her hips in a decadent cadence. “Punishment. I think that’s fair. Because whether your intentions are good or not, you’re screwing with my heart, Ty.” Her rhythm never falters as her fingers curl around the hem of her tank, rolling it up over her breasts until she whips it off and those phenomenal tits break free.

“Jesus Christ, Little Moon.” I can’t help myself. My hands pounce on her, the cool piercings melting into my palms as I cradle each globe—small but a perfect, perky handful—kneading her and pinching her sensitive nipples. She wasn’t lying. They’re a fucking work of art. “You’re breathtaking.”

She whimpers as her tempo grows more vigorous, her hands drifting over mine to squeeze with me. And her ever-changing hazels lock on to me like cat eyes here in the dusty morning light, fierce and feline. “You keep giving me warnings, so let me impart some wisdom of my own. I’m a Noire, so this is nowhere near what punishment looks like. But torturing you … while I …”

She loses whatever threat she was going to bestow as her pace picks up, right along with my thunderous heart and eager, neglected cock.

It’ll be a goddamn miracle if I don’t blow in my boxers.

“That’s my girl. So greedy and gorgeous, taking what you need.”

“Ty,” she purrs as her hips angle forward, and she steals every morsel of friction she can from my excruciating erection. My name on her lips is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard. But it’s her radiant face that nearly does me in. Her features contorting in unadulterated rapture—mouth parting, lashes fluttering, throat bobbing.

“Eyes on me, baby girl,” I demand while tweaking her nipples. “Show me.”

She obeys as a sultry moan croons from the depths of her, a delicate warble of exultation as melodic as her singing voice. No. More. It’s all more beautiful than anything I’ve ever witnessed.

“Look at you,” I rasp, sliding one hand up to her throat to feel her hammering pulse as her body tenses and quakes. “You’re a fantasy. So pretty when you come.”

Christ, she’s a fucking drug. I feel insane. She’s still panting, having not even floated down from her high, and I need another hit. I’ve never craved anything more. I don’t even mind enduring the most violent, throbbing blue balls of all time.

She flops against my chest, and I roll us so that my weight flattens her to the mattress, like we were last night when I tore myself away. An act of superhuman strength. Although holding her was the most at peace I have ever felt—until the nightmare.

I nip at her quivering lips. “That was the most spectacular moment of my life. ”

She cackles, bright and warm and brimming with life. “You’re full of shit and hard as a freaking rock.”

I’d say this potent obsession coursing through me is because I’ve never watched anyone come, never stared into anyone’s eyes like that. But no matter what my past exploits had been, I’m confident the earth’s axis would have still shifted for Rena’s unraveling. It’s certainly a different perspective than her being the Noire brothers’ little sister.

“I’m hard as a rock, but not full of shit.” My fingers dust her untamed locks off her face. “I need to see you come again. You can call it torture ’cause I’m in a significant amount of pain, but let me touch you.”

It’s the last thing I should be doing. Wrong on so many levels. I’ll hate myself in fifteen minutes. But fuck it . This memory will keep me happy in Hell.

Ducking my head, I draw her pert nipple into my mouth, jostling the bar with my tongue for incentive. She whimpers my name in response, so I lift my chin to soak in her reaction.

“A glutton for punishment,” she teases with a coquettish grin. “I could get used to that. Or”—she grips my aching balls—“give you a reason to take me over your knee and whip me into submission.”

Another kink unlocked. I want them all. Everything. Dreams. Desires. Wounds.

“You’re like one of those angel-demon hybrids, wreaking havoc no matter which side you choose.” I smile and pry her hand away, pinning both her wrists above her head. “No need for me to spank your ass tonight. What I want is right here. Your greedy cunt is begging for me.” With that, I slip my free hand into her shorts—no panties to contend with, which is a bold statement—reveling in how warm and soft and wet she is when I sweep my fingers through her folds.

“Why don’t you punish me with your cock, sailor?” she taunts with a shuddering breath.

I flick and swirl and plunge. “So fucking tight,” I murmur, losing myself to her pouty lips and panting breaths and back bowing for more, images of doing exactly as she proposed flooding me. “Because when my cock finally sinks into your perfect pussy, there will be no turning back, Little Moon. I’ll stretch you so far; it will steal the breath from your lungs, and I’ll be there to stay until you have no recollection of what it felt like before I filled you up.”

I’m not sure what makes this okay—touching her, feeling her clamp down on my fingers. What makes this a rule that I’m willing to bend when I won’t break another? Maybe I still need a line. But in the wake of her erotic purrs, the sand is blowing everywhere, and that line is fucking faint.

“When,” she whispers in harmony with a wispy moan. “You screwed up and said when.”

Shit. She’s right, so I don’t answer with words. I swallow all the assurance and promises and claiming declarations I want to offer, remove my cum-coated fingers, and slide them between her luscious lips, thrusting them into her throat until she gags. But she acclimates, sucking and licking like a fucking pro.

“Jesus,” I hiss, aching to have those plump lips wrapped around my cock, and she arches a winning brow.

So, I withdraw my hand and capture her mouth before she can goad me anymore, resuming my massage on her clit with my thumb as I dip two fingers inside her. The taste of her glazes my tongue—a delicacy, as I predicted—provoking a growl to rumble from my chest. “You taste divine. So goddamn sweet.”

“I really do,” she boasts with a half-dazed giggle against my lips, her tongue darting out for more.

Fuck me. She’s a sexy little minx. I’m in trouble.

When I feel her crumbling, giving over to another quaking climax, I release her wrists and mouth to watch. So damn beautiful. I know defeat. If I don’t get killed for this, she’ll surely be my demise. As long as I’m not hers, I’d die a happy man.

“So good,” she warbles, nestling her nose into the crook of my neck as I clean my fingers and memorize her flavor .

She’s so sated that after a few minutes, her panting breaths even out, and she curls up in my arms. Her wild-berries-scented hair tickles my nose as the chiding thoughts begin to assault me.

What the hell did I do? I’ve made this whole situation exponentially worse. Her brothers have every right to kill me. KORT too. If the Noires flip out, KORT will never buy that this was casual. She’ll need to be claimed and tested. Otherwise, she’ll be treated as a loose end. Any choice will be snatched from us. And that’s not even touching the shit with Balzano. I can’t even begin to fathom how that will play into this. But I have no doubt it will.

That’s one way to deflate a hard-on.

Shimmying my arm out from under her, I press my lips to her forehead, cover her up, and roll off the bed to grab my phone from the nightstand and sneak into the en suite. Forty-six missed calls. That can’t be good. I flip the shower on full blast, along with the sink faucets, to muffle my voice, before I stow away in the toilet room, taking a seat on the closed lid with the door shut to dial Wells.

“It’s about fucking time,” he clips after the first ring. “Tell me you at least have her.”

“I do,” I admit, undecided how to share the rest.

“I’ve got you on speaker. Liam is with me. Start filling us in, Ty. Whatever the hell is happening, we’ve got you. But I can’t fix problems if I don’t know what they are.” He’s said that to all of us before. The dad of our group.

He’s never allowed his traumatic past to rule him. I don’t know what his secret is, but he always shows up for us. Which is why it kills me to let him down.

But I also rely on him. Wells and the guys hold me together. So, it all comes tumbling out. “I don’t know what the right thing to do is, Chief. I’m losing my damn mind. And fucking everything up. No matter what, I fail her. If I walk away like I should, she’ll think I’m a creep or an asshole. Rightfully so. And if I don’t, KORT will put her through hell.”

“Yes,” he answers in that calm, assured way of his, “they will. Especially because of who she is. There’s no way around it and not much Ivy or I can do. Not without making it worse because they’d suspect favoritism. But if there’s something between you and Rena, which it sounds like there is, wouldn’t it be hell for both of you if you walked away? I couldn’t have left Ivy. And Liam couldn’t stay away from Celeste.”

“I tried,” Liam interjects. “I’ve been where you are, man. If the Noire princess has her hooks in you, you’re at her fucking mercy.”

A small grin twitches on my mouth because I know Celeste made Liam work for it, but I can’t hold on to that. “So my choice is which way to fail her. Anything I do hurts her.” I pause there, gathering my racing thoughts. “Maybe I should take her and run.”

“If you run, we all run,” Liam declares.

It’s not surprising that he said that. I couldn’t bear to have one of them take off. But it’s not an option, so I make that clear. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t,” Wells insists. “Home is where we all are, so that’s the end of that. But we’d be looking over our shoulders forever. KORT and her brothers.”

“I know,” I sigh, dragging a hand down my overgrown scruff. “I’ve thought about it. Neither would stop hunting us until we were dead. I can’t do that to any of you. Especially Felicity. That’s no way to grow up. But even if we went alone, it would shatter Rena. She’d be lost without her brothers.”

Wells hums. “Ty, if you’re even considering running with her, you’ve made a decision whether you see it or not.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argue. “This pressure is so fucking twisted. No one can make a lifetime decision after a night. I can’t ask her to do that.”

KORT doesn’t budge on that rule—it’s either one-night stands or till death do us part. No in-between. They consider pillow talk to be too much of a risk once you venture into night two.

“That’s the way it works,” Well states. “We all knew that, going in. I could’ve bought you time, like I did with Liam. Let the two of you explore this more under the guise of her visiting. But her brothers … Axel is beside himself. I’ve never seen him such a mess. None of them have slept. Jax is barely functioning. We need to make a decision soon. Whatever it is. It’s not right for us to know she’s safe while they’re frantic.”

“I know,” I concede. It’s exactly what was running through my mind last night when she was telling me how much they’d done for her. “I’ll talk to her about it. The longer we wait, the worse it will be, but then again, everything will crash down on us. So …”

“It’s not one night, Ty,” Liam chimes in. “You’ve known each other for years. And you cared about that girl long before you flew across the country for her. Those sidelong glances you cast in her direction weren’t your best-kept secret. We had this same conversation about Celeste, and all we’d had were passing fights. Not even close to the history you two have.”

“I hear that. I’m just torn and need to make sense of this.” That concession leaves my mouth at the very moment my line of sight drifts to the massive wet spot on my boxers.

“Keep it fucking PG-13 then,” Wells snipes. “If you fuck her—”

How the hell does he do that?

“Of course,” I snap back, “I’m well aware of the ramifications.”

“I was already fucking at thirteen,” Liam overshares, to which Wells hisses his typical expletives while Liam expounds, “So, the PG-13 rule is subjective. Lay it out for me. You haven’t been balls deep in her yet?”

I can’t contain my chuckle. “Seriously, Graves, how does Lettie deal with you?”

“Oh, I have my methods of persuasion,” he boasts. “And I’m happy to extend some techniques, but more importantly, answer the goddamn question. I’ve got money riding on this.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I scoff. “Money on what exactly?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tytan. Since I am so confident in your game, I bet Ace that you’d seal the deal in the first twenty-four hours. But she, Ivy, and Gage were all about how you’d pussy out and be a gentleman or some shit.”

“Note that I didn’t bet, Ty,” Wells throws in, but it’s through a stifled laugh.

“Well, here I am, stressing about how not to get myself and my girl killed. Good to know you’ve all got your priorities straight,” I deadpan. “And, Liam, you can tell your wife, no matter what game she plays, she dominates.”

“Fucking Christ,” Liam barks, understanding that he lost this one too.

“I need a full check-in, Ty,” Wells interrupts. “Flashbacks? Nightmares? How’d you find her? Any issues when you got to her?”

Cooperating with this is the only way other than removing my tracker that I can ensure he won’t show up here. “Not full-fledged losing-myself flashbacks, but seconds here and there. Yes, to nightmares. I woke from one about an hour ago. And she’d texted me sketchy info that had me club-hopping all over the city. When I finally tracked her down, I noticed she had a bruise on her cheek. As luck would have it”—my jaw clicks, my temples pulsing in unison—“I happened upon the guys and overheard their plan to gang-rape her.”

“Motherfuckers,” Liam snarls.

My fist clenches in my lap. “Yeah. That was about my reaction and then some. Both are neutralized.”

“I’m assuming everything was neat and tidy. Any idea why she was their target?” Wells probes.

“It was quick. I’d already tampered with the cameras, so there was no issue with a trail. I questioned her. It looks like the guy who hit her had been expecting more, and it pissed him off that she’d struck him and gotten away. She broke the asshole’s nose.”

“I love that feisty girl!” Liam shouts in the background with a resounding clap.

“I second that.” Wells chuckles. “In fact, off topic, please inform her that she’s turned me into a butterscotch addict and that I’m livid it’s taken her this long to share.”

You and me both, Chief. “Will do.”

“Did you run the names?” he asks, keeping us on track.

“I did when we got back to the hotel, but I’ll text them over so you can take a deeper look.” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I dive into the territory I wanted to avoid. But I’m thoroughly engulfed in it now. “What happened in that meeting with Axel at La Lune Noire after I left?”

“Not much,” Wells muses. “We wrapped up about fifteen minutes later. He wasn’t amenable to any of our ideas concerning Balzano. I may have found an angle though. Why?”

“She knows something. Based on her location, I’d guess that she at least suspects her connection to Balzano.” It was clear to me that something more was rattling around in her brain, but she held on to it.

“I figured as much about Balzano too,” Wells agrees. “Another reason her brothers will see red if they know you’re there with her. Oh, and on that note, New Age Tech gave us that AI software, so Axel and Ryker are joining us this morning to put her description into it. If she’s anywhere with any type of camera, she could be spotted.”

“Shit,” I hiss. Detected is bad because I’ll have no defense for being with her without reporting it.

“What else do you think she knows?” Liam asks.

“I’m not sure. She’s pissed. Lost. It’s more than just the tracking. I don’t want to push her to tell me too fast, but there was a two-second exchange that wouldn’t fit that or the Balzano piece. When I said something about our life being a death sentence, she said that was par for the course for her.”

“No wonder I fucking lost my money,” Liam hollers. “That’s the shit you lead with?”

“It wasn’t a pickup line, asshole. I was trying to dissuade her from getting involved with me.”

Liam’s unmistakable roaring laughter bellows through the phone. “That girl is addicted to rebellion. You waved a flame in front of a moth. On second thought, brilliant fucking pickup line.”

“She must’ve overheard Axel say that she and Jax were Balzano’s,” Wells supplies. “He also mentioned making a deal and that Rena and Jax would be dead if they found out. That’s all a mess I’m working to sort through. He hasn’t given me all the details, and the ones he has need to be verified before I can move, but I’m handling it. I’ll fill you in when things settle.”

“So, basically, we’re on the lam, hiding whatever the hell this is from KORT, and in danger of being hunted by her family or discovered by her birth father, who wants to kill her and would love nothing more than to stick it to me because I assist Ivy, whom he hates, in running the O’Reilly seat.” I stand, swipe my hand over my hair, and stretch out my cramped legs. “Yeah, this did wonders for my anxiety, Wells. Thanks.”

“Take some deep breaths, Tytan,” he orders. “I’ll take care of it and do my best to buy you a couple of days. Other than getting your head straight with how you want to proceed with Rena and encouraging her to answer a call from either my wife or Celeste because they miss her and are sick with worry, you only have three responsibilities. Lie low so she doesn’t get picked up on the AI. Keep your dick in your pants because the Noires will skin you alive if you fuck her and cast her aside, no matter how noble. And keep me abreast of any and all developments. Understood?”

“Got it, Chief. Lie low, dick in my pants, keep you informed. No problem.”