3. Xander
Xander
Icould hardly believe the day I’d never let myself think would be possible was here.
Everything I’d done, everything I’d sacrificed for, had led to this moment.
Thinking about what life would be like after the fallout of my actions was something that had sustained me in my darkest times, but never in the thousands of scenarios I’d come up with did I think I would be nervous.
The woman I’d loved with foolish abandon, the one whose life had been shattered because of my choices, who still—by all accounts—was loyal to my memory, was just beyond the door in front of me.
Hope, anxiety, and dread swirled in the pit of my stomach.
Would she recognize me? I knew if she did, I’d have no choice but to disappear again, but the elemental part, the one that laid claim to that slip of a girl all those years ago, wanted her to know I’d kept my promise.
That I’d done the impossible and gotten all of us out.
Another part of me was terrified she wouldn’t have a clue who I was, or worse, would reject the man I’d become in order to survive. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. It’s the story of your life, Demi. Might as well get it over with.
I knew the men—my new family—were waiting for me to make the first move. They were a good group of honorable guys from what I could gather—but we were still feeling each other out, and the last thing I needed was for them to think I was afraid of anything this life could dish out.
Pushing the door aside with more force than intended, I allowed myself to take stock of what I was walking into.
I’d already gathered—from the drug dealers blatantly selling on the street corner a half-block from here, the prostitutes across the street, and the ramshackle appearance of the buildings—that we were in a dangerous side of town.
Even if we were walking into a five-star restaurant, the need to categorize my surroundings, identify possible enemies, and note exits and entry points, was so ingrained I’d likely never be able to break the habit.
But lucky for me, the new me was just as paranoid of a bastard as the old one had been.
Three women were gathered in the middle of an open area, looking as if they were celebrating.
Considering none of them appeared to be armed—or was Lessia—I moved on, as much as I wanted to linger over one of them.
With any luck, there would be time for that another day.
At the bar sat four men, and there were two groups of three at the tables at the far side of the room.
Judging by their expressions and body language, they were not exactly friendly, and they were definitely carrying.
Movement in a corner booth caught my eye, but before I could lock onto it, a man—the bartender—jumped over the counter, coming to stand in front of me.
For several long moments, we just stared at each other.
Vik was older now, of course, with new scars on one of his arms and what looked like a bullet hole close to his bicep, but the familiar golden-brown eyes were the same.
There was a sheen in them, just for a moment, that I was sure matched mine, though neither of us had cried since we were children, quick to learn, as we’d been, that tears had no purpose in life.
He’d grown another inch or so, his somewhat lanky frame filled out now with the aid of good food and a healthy appreciation for manual labor.
He was my friend … my brother … and yet not.
I saw him taking in my appearance the way I was him, and I wondered if there was any part of the old me left to find.
His gaze, which had been trailing me up and down, finally rose to meet mine. As one, we stepped into each other, pulling in for a hug that was years in the making.
“I’m so glad to see you, brother,” Vik whispered in Russian. “I’ve kept her safe for you, just as I swore I would.”
I swallowed hard. “Is she here?” I asked, already knowing the answer but needing the confirmation anyway.
“Yes, but she has no idea. And there are others here we need to put on a show for. A few more minutes patience, and I promise you’ll see her.” He hesitated. “Did they warn you?”
I tilted my head. “What?”
“You’re going to have your work cut out for you,” he said simply. “She’s as in love with you as she was the first day I met her. Maybe even more so since all she has are memories of a damn ghost. She’s not going to welcome Xander Hawkings into her life easily.”
Before I could reply, a woman rose, gliding up behind Vik in a sexy strut I recognized.
“Xander,” Lessia greeted me as if I were a long-lost friend.
“I heard you got out of prison early for good behavior. Please tell me you at least have a better control over your temper—I don’t want to hear about you going back for good this time. ”
I pulled back from Vik to look her over, please she seemed no worse for wear from her latest adventure. I’d heard that, despite my warning, she’d ended up in Karl Albrecht’s private collection, but had held her own until she’d been extracted.
“Just call me Revenant,” I growled out, letting my familiar mask fall back into place.
I wouldn’t have picked the nickname myself, but if I had to have one, there were certainly worse ones they could have chosen.
And it did have a ring of irony to it. “I should’ve had ten more years to go, but you have to love it when someone’s fuckup is uncovered.
Hell, I was doing humanity a favor, offing that asshole.
It just so happens the government finally decided to agree. ”
Lessia, never one to miss a beat, slapped my shoulder. “Come on, then, Rev. I’ll buy you a beer.”
We made our way to the counter, where Lessia waved Vik into a stool and took over for him behind the bar.
She looked completely different than the way she usually did when we crossed each other—which was typically during some charity event or fancy dinner.
Instead of a ball gown, high heels, and a shit-ton of makeup, she was barefaced, wearing shorts, tennis shoes, and a simple t-shirt.
Sure, the shorts were an inch shorter than I was sure her brothers were comfortable with, and her shirt was practically molded to her, but that was just typical Lessia.
For a former model, she wore the classic hometown girl look well.
I followed their lead, making small talk with Vik as Charge signaled to the outsiders to get out.
It spoke to the MC’s power that the men all took off without hesitation.
I’d only been read in on the club’s exploits in the broadest sense of the word, and I figured I’d learn more as I went.
But Grimm seemed like a fair and well-respected leader thus far.
At least, within the club. The fact that these road-hardened men left without a word at a simple gesture by an MC member cemented what I’d already gathered—the Iron Wraiths reputation was well established, brutal, and, for now, uncontested in their territory, even with the mass exoduses earlier in the night.
I, for one, wasn’t ready to trust anyone outside of the man and woman in front of me—at least for now.
Vik was my brother in everything but blood, and Lessia had proved herself trustworthy, even if I was under no illusions of her loyalty to me.
If anything, I was beholden to her. Without her, my life would have lost all meaning a long time ago.
The front door opened, and several men—one of whom I recognized as Lessia’s bodyguard—walked in.
“Keene!” one of the women cried, stumbling her way over to one of the men. Based on the ring on her finger and the look in his eye, they were either newlyweds or engaged. Keene and the other two who weren’t the bodyguard looked similarly enough that I pegged them as brothers.
“Turn the music back on and lock the door,” Lessia called out, pulling out more mugs. “We’ve got a double celebration and the place all to ourselves.”
The entire bar cheered, and the bodyguard slid the lock of the door into place before coming around to help Lessia, who was serving all the men lining up for a beer.
I saw her toss a small smile up at him as he placed a small kiss on her head and rested a hand on her hip—something that she would have laid a man out for if wasn’t welcome—before grabbing mugs to fill.
Well, well, apparently, the mighty Alessia Accardi had fallen in love.
Old country music started up on the jukebox, and the three women pulled their men onto the dance floor with them. The rest of the MC settled around the room, giving the corner booth a wide berth.
It took everything I had not to let my attention linger on the woman I knew was sitting there.
She was pressed into the booth, despite having the entire bench to herself, wearing black pants, low-slung heels, and a white blouse.
Not the look one typically wore coming to a place like this, but I suspected she might have come straight from the office.
I couldn’t see but a flash of an arm, the cross of a leg, and the flick of long black hair.
“Steady,” Lessia murmured under her breath, reading me like a book, though I tried to hide my feelings. “She’s going to be skittish. Let her come to you.” She refilled our drinks, her eyes flicking to Vik. “She’s going to try to bolt. Call her over,” she directed.
Vik turned, rising as he did so. “Andrie, you’ve got to meet Xander.”
It was all I could do not to jump out of my chair in anticipation.
Lessia was correct, though. Everything about the woman in front of me screamed runner, even at a glance.
My jaw tightened at the change. Alex had been a carefree ray of sunshine—the total opposite of me; it was one of the things I’d loved most about her.
She couldn’t walk into a room without drawing everyone’s eye.
Solnyshkuh, little sun, was what I’d called her.
Now, she appeared all shadows.
Her long black hair was pulled into an understated ponytail, but the loose end was wavy as if it had been up in a clip earlier in the day.
A concession to comfort, I wondered. Her clothing wasn’t baggy, but it did little to emphasize her figure, and her face was bare, save for a swipe of mascara.
She wore no jewelry of any kind. Her brown eyes, while still warm, lacked the bright humor and zest they’d once had.
Nothing about her stood out, even her energy level was muted.
This woman could blend into the woodwork, be passed by everyone in the street, and they wouldn’t even remember seeing her.
Clearly, she worked at being as nondescript as possible and was good at it.
Still, my breath wanted to catch as I took her in, scarcely able to believe she was standing in front of me.
“Xander, meet Alexandria Demming. Andrie, this is my brother, Xander,” Vic introduced.
Alex—Andrie—extended her hand, looking nervous. I looked down, wondering if, despite all the preparation I’d gone though, it would be enough. Slowly, so as to not scare her any more than she already was, I grasped her soft hand in mine.
Heat flared, hotter and as perfect as it had always been.
As if all the time apart had only stoked the flame, and our touch was the spark that set it ablaze once more.
She gasped, looking up at me in wonder, and I knew she’d felt it, too.
I sensed more than felt her thought of pulling back, of rejecting what was happening between us, and I couldn’t help but tighten my hold.
After all of these years of having only dreams and memories to sustain me, I couldn’t let her go just yet.
“Andrie was my best friend’s sister,” Vik explained. “And when he died, she became my little sister.” I could see the twinkle in his eye as he spoke, the corners of his mouth twitching when he saw Andrie’s eyes widen.
“Well,” I said, unable to stop the delight at seeing her body shudder delicately as I spoke. “I’d say any little sister of my brother is kin to me, but I’d be lying. Come sit with us for a while, sweetheart. I’d love to get to know the only family my brother has had to count on while I was gone.”
I didn’t ask, knowing she’d probably make up an excuse to go home if I let her, but I was careful to keep an eye on her body language—the last thing I wanted was for her to fear me.
I slid the barstool I’d been sitting on out for her, extending my hand to help her into it, and she willingly complied.
I sat on the barstool next to hers, pulling it as close as I dared.
After all these years apart, I was determined to make up for lost time.
Lessia might caution me to be careful with Alex—Andrie—but I’d known her better than anyone in the world.
I knew how much I could push, when to cajole, and how to romance her.
We’d been separated for nine years, eight months, and sixteen days. We’d more than paid our penance, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop us from living the rest of our lives … together.