Chapter 30
Thirty
Colt
Briar can be quick when she wants to be, but I’m quicker.
“No,” I say gently when she grabs my arm. “He and I have to work this out.”
“But you’re still healing,” she whispers worriedly.
“I’m fine. Trust me. And stay here.” I lightly press my lips to hers and then stalk outside in the direction Dash went.
I really fucking hate this, but I’m done. One way or another, this has to be settled. I would hate for him to not be in our lives but no one—not even one of my brothers—is going to keep me from my woman and my kid. Period.
“Whatever the fuck is going on with you, it needs to end now. Today.” I approach him without hesitation. He’s wider than I am, but I’m taller and faster. At least, I used to be faster.
“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” Dash snarls.
“I don’t,” I agree, “but you don’t get to make Briar feel like she has to choose because I promise you—she’ll choose me.” That’s kind of a dick thing to say but he has to get past this. Somehow, some way, he has to realize she and I are a package deal.
His nostrils flare and he glares at me. “The fuck she will.”
“Dude. She loves me, and I love her. And I’m. Not. Leaving. I love both of them, more than my own life, so whatever needs to happen for you to let this go, then do it.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“What? You need to take a swing? Go for it. But then it’s done.”
Dash scowls, his face taut with tension as we stare each other down.
I’m not afraid of him but I'm also not back to one hundred percent yet—he could probably hurt me if he wanted to. Maybe. I’m still pretty tough.
It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, the expression on his face shrouded but intense.
Finally, he lets out a long, put-upon sigh, the tension seeming to drain from his large frame as he says, “Fine.”
I’m not stupid—I know what’s coming, so I brace myself as he throws a punch that glances off my jaw.
Jesus, he’s still got the hardest right hook I’ve ever taken from anyone.
But I don’t react, don’t move, barely breathe…merely continue standing there, watching him. Waiting.
“You feel better?” I ask blandly. “We done now?”
Dash takes a step closer, his body taut again. “No.”
Then he yanks me into a hug that nearly suffocates me.
“What the fuck, man? Why didn't you tell me you were going back in?” he growls against my ear.
“Because you would have followed me—and somebody had to stay here to take care of Briar.”
My words seem to penetrate something deep inside him because he slowly pulls away and stares at me. Long and hard. Like he can’t quite believe it’s me, that I’m really here.
“You still should have talked to me, let me know the plan.”
“You wouldn’t have listened,” I reply. “We were attached at the hip. And with that kind of danger, we couldn’t both go in.”
“You left her… pregnant.”
“I didn’t know—I swear on Frankie’s life, I had no idea she was pregnant.”
He stares at me, a contemplative expression on his face.
“You have to believe I would’ve done things differently if I had known,” I continue.
He hesitates but then nods. “Yeah, I do know.”
Thank fuck.
“Fuck, it’s good to have you back,” he says quietly, pulling me in for another hug.
“It’s good to be back,” I gasp, trying to breathe through the pain of my sore ribs.
“Sniff, sniff, you two are so sweet I’m getting a cavity.” Atlas is standing off to the side, smirking.
“Fuck off,” Dash and I mutter at the same time in the same tone of voice.
“Oh, crap, the terror twins are back,” Royal groans.
He and Banks are out here too and the five of us stand there for a moment, no one moving. It’s weird but comfortable at the same time. We’ve hung out a million times before, but it’s never been quite so…poignant.
“Should we sit?” I ask when the silence stretches out.
“Let’s do that,” Banks says, dropping into one of the lawn chairs.
“What do you need, Colt?” Atlas asks when we’ve all settled around the propane-fueled fire pit. “Money? A place to stay? A job?”
“Nah, I’m good. I was very well-paid while I was in that prison camp. And funny story—there’s not a hell of a lot to buy in a Siberian prison commissary.”
Dash kicks my leg. “Smartass.”
“That’s never gonna change,” I say, chuckling.
“We’re serious,” Banks interjects, leaning forward. “What do you need?”
“Actually, taking me to get a phone would be nice at this point. This burner I’ve been using is really the worst.”
“What, the spy world powers that be couldn’t give you a regular fucking phone?” Dash asks.
“Guess I wasn't high enough on the food chain,” I quip.
“I can add you to my plan,” Atlas says, pulling out his phone and typing something in. “You have a preference in color?”
“Color?” I ask blankly.
“The latest version comes in cobalt blue, blackout black, titanium silver, and burning red.” He doesn’t even look up.
“Uh, black is fine,” I say.
“Okay.” He taps away for another minute and then puts his phone away. “It’ll be here tomorrow. I expedited shipping.”
“I can pay for the phone,” I say quickly.
He arches his brows. “Seriously? After all you went through in that prison? Let me buy you a fucking phone. You’ll buy your next one.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest, because Atlas wasn’t a billionaire before I left for Russia. But he is now, and the look on his face brooks no argument.
So, I give in graciously.
“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Are you, uh, going to be living here?” Dash asks cautiously.
I turn to him. “I am. You got a problem with that?”
“Nooo.” He draws out the word. “But they need stability, you know? You can’t just bounce in and out of their lives.”
“I already told you I have no plans to do that,” I snap. “And before you say something else to piss me off—yes, I plan to marry her. But we need a little time to get our feet under us, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” He slowly holds out his fist.
Extending the proverbial olive branch.
I hesitate before bumping mine against it.
He’s as solid and loyal as they come, but he can be the most stubborn man alive if you get on his bad side.
“You planning to work?” Atlas asks, ignoring us.
“Eventually. I’m good short-term. I want to take some time to heal both physically and mentally, focus on whatever Briar needs, and get to know my daughter.”
“And then?” Dash asks, his expression inscrutable.
“I don’t know. Why? You have a suggestion?”
He shrugs. “I can always use someone with your skill set at my company.”
“I don’t even know what your company is exactly,” I admit. “But when the time is right, we can definitely talk about it.”
“When’s the last time you played hockey?” Banks asks me.
I can’t help it—I burst out laughing.
“As cold as it is in Siberia, they do not have an ice rink at the prison.”
“We could get you suited up when you’re ready,” Atlas says. “We rent the ice and try to play once or twice a month.”
“That sounds great.”
I lean back, looking around at the faces of the four men who mean so much to me. Most of my thoughts in prison were about Briar but not all of them. I also held on to memories of the good times we had. College hockey. Parties. Holidays spent with the family we created for ourselves.
Those were the things I clung to when I was sure I wouldn’t survive much longer.
My brothers.
The woman I loved.
Family.
And now I’m getting a second chance with all of it.
One I don’t intend to blow.
“You looked way too serious just now,” Dash says under his breath.
“Just taking it all in. Appreciating it.”
He nods. “Good. Because you won’t get another second chance.”
“I won’t need one.”
“Whatever you two are whispering about,” Royal says, “knock it off. Since when do we have secrets?”
“No secrets,” I say with a grin. “Just finding a new normal.”
“I think we need beer,” Atlas says, getting to his feet.
“Multiple beers,” I call after him as he heads into the house.
“It’s really good to have you back,” Dash says.