4. Blade
BLADE
Three AM, and I lay next to Tiffany in my own bed, counting her breaths and calling myself fifty kinds of fool.
She'd convinced me to stay last night—"just to sleep"—and now her warmth pressed against my side, one hand curled on my chest, her curves soft against my body. Every inhale brought her closer. Every exhale tested my control.
The kiss at the clinic yesterday had been a mistake. Letting her convince me to share the bed—bigger mistake. But the way she'd looked at me, asked me to stop fighting this...
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I grabbed it before it could wake her, careful not to disturb the arm she'd thrown across my chest sometime around midnight.
Phoenix: Someone got past us. Found an envelope shoved under the building's main door. You need to see this. I'm outside.
I slipped out of bed, immediately missing her warmth. She murmured something, burrowing deeper into my pillow, and my chest did that thing where it felt too tight and too full simultaneously.
Phoenix stood in my doorway, face grim, manila envelope already torn open in his hands. "I'm sorry, brother. Whoever delivered this came and went before my patrol came around. Found it ten minutes ago."
Three AM, and I lay next to Tiffany in my own bed, counting her breaths and calling myself fifty kinds of fool.
She'd convinced me to stay last night—"just to sleep"—and now her warmth pressed against my side, one hand curled on my chest, her curves soft against my body. Every inhale brought her closer. Every exhale tested my control.
The kiss at the clinic yesterday had been a mistake. Letting her convince me to share the bed—bigger mistake. But the way she'd looked at me, asked me to stop fighting this...
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I grabbed it before it could wake her, careful not to disturb the arm she'd thrown across my chest sometime around midnight.
Phoenix: Someone got past us. Found an envelope shoved under the building's main door. You need to see this. I'm outside.
I slipped out of bed, immediately missing her warmth. She murmured something, burrowing deeper into my pillow, and my chest did that thing where it felt too tight and too full simultaneously.
Phoenix stood in my doorway, face grim, manila envelope already torn open in his hands. "I'm sorry, brother. Whoever delivered this came and went before my patrol came around. Found it ten minutes ago."
"How bad?"
He handed me the contents. Photos. Dozens of them.
Tiffany at the grocery store. Walking to her car. Through the clinic windows. At her old apartment before I'd moved her. The last one made my blood freeze—taken through my bedroom window last night, showing her changing into my t-shirt.
A note in block letters: 24 hours expired. Start delivering or we start taking. The nurse is just the beginning.
Rage flooded my system, hot and familiar. But underneath lurked something worse—fear. Not for me, but for her. These fuckers were escalating, getting bolder. And I'd been too distracted by my dick to notice someone photographing her through my window.
"Blade?"
Tiffany stood in the bedroom doorway, my t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair messy from sleep.
The morning light from the kitchen made the thin fabric nearly transparent, outlining every curve.
My body responded immediately, want mixing with the need to protect, to claim, to keep her safe from everything including myself.
"What's wrong?" She moved closer, then saw the photos spread on my kitchen counter. The color drained from her face. "Oh God. They were watching me change?"
"Pack your things." My voice came out harder than intended. "I'm moving you to the clubhouse. Multiple eyes on you at all times."
"But—"
"This is escalating beyond what I can handle alone." I started texting my brothers, setting up a protection rotation. "You need more than just me."
She crossed to where I stood, her hand covering mine on the phone. "I don't want more than just you."
The words landed perfectly, too perfectly, burrowing under my defenses. Too much for three in the morning when she stood there barely dressed and I could still feel her warmth from our shared bed.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"Stop telling me what I know." She took the phone, set it aside, then pressed against me.
All those soft curves against my bare chest, just the t-shirt between us.
"I know these threats are getting worse.
I know you're trying to protect me. And I know that last night, sleeping in your arms, was the first time I've felt safe since this started. "
"Tiffany—"
"I also know you're going to try to push me away. For my own good, right? Because you think you're too damaged or too old for me or too…something." Her hands slid up my chest, and I had to lock every muscle to keep from grabbing her. "But I'm not going anywhere."
"You should." The words tasted like ash. "You should run far and fast from me and this life."
"Why?"
"Because I destroy everything I touch." The admission ripped out before I could stop it. "My unit in Afghanistan—some of them dead because I made the wrong call. My sister—died while I was overseas playing soldier instead of being here. Everyone who gets close to me ends up hurt or dead."
She studied my face, those doe eyes seeing too much. "Tell me about Afghanistan."
"No."
"Tell me." Her hands framed my face, forcing me to look at her. "Whatever you're carrying, whatever makes you think you're poison—tell me."
I pulled away, needing distance, but she followed. Always pushing, never backing down.
"2019. Kandahar Province." Each word scraped my throat raw.
"Intelligence said the building was clear.
I made the call to breach. Had a bad feeling but ignored it because the intel came from a trusted source.
" My hands clenched. "IED took out Torres and Mitchell instantly.
Rodriguez bled out in my arms. Jackson died in the medevac.
Four brothers dead because I didn't trust my instincts. "
"That wasn't your fault—"
"I was team leader. My call. My responsibility." I turned to face her. "Four families destroyed because I made the wrong choice. You want to add yours to that list?"
"You're not in Afghanistan anymore."
"No, but the violence followed me home. The darkness. You think what I did to that driver yesterday was bad? That's nothing compared to what I'm capable of. What I've done."
She moved closer despite my confession. "I'm not afraid of your darkness."
"You should be. Christ, Tiffany, I'm sixteen years older than you. You should be with someone your age, someone whole, someone who doesn't wake up with their hands around their partner's throat because they're dreaming of combat."
"Has that happened?"
"Once. Which is why I sleep alone."
"But you slept fine last night. With me."
She was right. First nightmare-free sleep in months. But that only proved how dangerous she was to my control.
"You deserve better. Someone who can give you normal. Suburban house, regular job, kids who don't have to worry about their dad's enemies showing up. Not someone who brings danger to your door."
"I already had danger at my door. You're the one standing between me and it." She pressed closer, and I backed up until I hit the counter. "And I don't want normal. I want you."
"You're twenty-four. You don't know what you want."
"Stop." Fire flashed in her expression. "Stop using my age as an excuse. I'm an adult. I've lived on my own, put myself through nursing school, survived my own struggles. I know exactly what I want."
She rose on her toes, mouth inches from mine. "I want the man who gave up his bed for my comfort. Who makes sure I eat even when he's stressed. Who protects without smothering. Who looks at me like I'm precious but treats me like I'm strong."
"Tiffany—"
She kissed me.
Not gentle like I'd expected. Demanding, claiming, taking what she wanted.
Her tongue swept into my mouth, and my control shattered.
I spun us, lifting her onto the counter, stepping between her thighs.
The position put all those dangerous curves at my mercy—full breasts pressed against my chest, soft thighs gripping my hips.
The t-shirt rode up, and my hands found bare skin, all that softness I'd been denying myself.
The contrast of her plush curves against my scarred hardness made us both groan.
She moaned into my mouth, legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer.
The thin fabric between us did nothing to hide her heat, her need.
My hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into yielding flesh, and my body responded, hard and aching, wanting nothing more than to claim her right here against my kitchen counter.
Her hands explored my chest, nails scraping, finding scars and tracing them like she was memorizing my damage. Each touch felt like absolution and damnation combined.
"Bedroom," she gasped against my mouth.
That single word snapped me back to reality. What the fuck was I doing? She was under my protection, threatened, vulnerable. And I was pawing at her like an animal.
I pulled back, stepping out of the cage of her legs despite every instinct screaming to stay.
"We can't."
"We can." She reached for me, but I caught her wrists.
"No. This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're scared, looking for comfort, and I'm taking advantage—"
"You're not taking anything I'm not giving freely."
"You're under my protection. There are rules—"
"Fuck the rules."
The profanity from her sweet mouth nearly broke me. But I held firm, even as my body raged against the denial.
"When this is over, when you're safe, you'll regret this. Regret me." I helped her off the counter, steadying her when her legs wobbled. "You'll look back and realize you were just scared, that the trauma made you think you wanted something you didn't."
Hurt flashed across her features. "You don't get to decide what I'll regret."
"No, but I get to decide what I'll regret. And taking advantage of you when you're vulnerable—that would destroy me."
"I'm not some fragile flower, Blade. I'm not going to break."
"No, but I might break you." I stepped back, needing distance. "My hands have killed people, Tiffany. These same hands you want on you have ended lives. You're a healer. I'm a destroyer. That math doesn't work."
"You're not a destroyer. You're a protector."
"Same skill set, different application." I grabbed my phone again, resuming the texts to my brothers. "Phoenix will take you to the clubhouse in twenty minutes."
"So that's it? You kiss me senseless then ship me off?"
"It's for the best."
"Whose best? Because it's not mine." She stood there, my t-shirt barely covering her, looking like everything I wanted but couldn't have. "And from the way you're standing, it's not yours either."
She wasn't wrong. My body screamed for her, cock hard and aching, every muscle tense with denial. But my body had wanted a lot of things that would have gotten me killed over the years. This was just another battle.
"Get dressed. Pack your things."
"You're a coward." The accusation landed like shrapnel. "You're so scared of maybe hurting me that you're definitely hurting me. Right now. This is you causing me pain."
She was right. The hurt in her expression, the betrayal—I'd put that there. But better this pain now than the worse pain later when she realized what being with me really meant.
She disappeared into the bedroom, slamming the door. The sound echoed through my apartment, through my chest. Twenty minutes later, she emerged fully dressed, bag in hand, not looking at me.
Phoenix had returned, taking in the tension with raised eyebrows but smart enough not to comment.
"Keep her safe," I told him.
"You're not coming?" Tiffany asked, finally looking at me.
"Later. Need to check some leads on these fuckers."
A lie. I needed distance before I did something stupid like chase after her, pin her to my bed, and show her exactly how much I wanted her despite every logical reason not to.
She left without another word, Phoenix shooting me a look that said we'd be talking later.
The apartment felt empty without her. Cold. Like it had before she'd arrived and reminded me what warmth felt like. I stood at my window, watching Phoenix's bike disappear with her on the back, arms around another man.
The image made me want to punch something. Instead, I grabbed the photos, studying them with military precision. These fuckers had been in my space, threatened my woman—
Not mine. I'd made sure of that.
But as I planned their destruction, all I could think about was the hurt in Tiffany's eyes. The accusation that I was a coward.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe pushing her away made me exactly what I'd always feared being—the destroyer. Only this time, I was destroying the one good thing that had walked into my life.
My phone buzzed. Viper: Your girl's raising hell at the clubhouse. Says she's not hiding. Says she wants to be bait to draw them out.
Of course she did. Because Tiffany Glover might look soft and sweet, but she had a spine of steel and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
I was out the door before I'd made the conscious decision to move.
Time to stop being a coward.