Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

One phone call and his goddamned heart was gone. Done. A lifetime of no attachments to women out the window. He’d analyzed it from every angle, thought about it till he drove himself crazy and realized that the only thing for him to do was find Calla. And surrender.

And he’d realized he was in deeper than he’d thought. Because as he lay dying on that fucking freezing cold floor, Calla’s voice brought him back to life. And instead of dying he’d been comforting her.

Lying in his hospital bed, he’d practically seethed with rage and vengeance, used those emotions to get himself up and moving, much faster than the doctors wanted. But no matter how much they—and the nurses—threatened, then cajoled, then threatened again, it hadn’t stopped him. Because the idea of finishing this once and for all made him move through the pain; it was Calla that got him through.

The entire time he was healing, he heard her voice when he let the shower beat down on his sore muscles, stiff from underuse. Her voice lulled him to sleep. Finding her and getting her out of trouble became the drumbeat of his soul.

He let that thought comfort him while he mourned Bernie.

Laid down his life for me, dammit. And Calla’s too, by the sound of it. He’d heard Preacher and Tals talking about it when they thought he was asleep, how Tenn had called about a woman who’d been sent to him by Bernie. And he’d been grateful she’d been with Tenn. He didn’t want Tals or Preacher near her, not without him. He didn’t want her any more frightened than she no doubt was.

He couldn’t have that. Tenn could be scary enough, but he wouldn’t say a word about his war with the Heathens, the possible connections. Not until Cage went to him.

And so he’d been relieved Calla was with Tenn. But Tenn wasn’t him. And about a thousand times a day, he convinced himself that Calla would be better off without him, that he should just let her go off on her way. She’d disappear and he’d take care of any danger that might follow her. She’d meet a nice guy . . .

And that last part would make Cage rethink his plan every time.

Tenn had a gym set up for the guys, and during the early-morning hours it was pretty much empty. His guys were late-night partiers, and even if I’d wanted to sleep, it was off my agenda pretty much permanently, replaced by a simple grief so fresh it tended to catch me off guard at odd moments. Like my destiny had passed me by. Call it what you will, even laugh at me, but I wouldn’t care. You don’t when you connect with someone that deeply.

And now that he’s here, you’re pushing him away.

Or I’d at least tried. Cage was the first man in my life—the first person—to deliver on a promise. And I was trying desperately to see when the other shoe would drop and the promise would break.

But I’d gotten dressed in the clothes I’d arrived in, clothing I’d let sit on a chair in the bedroom for a month while I’d wallowed in borrowed sweats and T-shirts.

I’d showered too, bringing myself to a tight, quick climax that left me slack-mouthed and tingly. I’d done it like I’d known he was somehow privy to my orgasm.

And so I was sitting there in the gym, dressed and waiting, when Tenn found me, although I don’t think he was actually looking for me. His expression was troubled as he glanced at me and asked, “Are you all right?”

“You’re not.”

He laughed a little. “I didn’t pick up the fucking phone,” he said, his voice dark. “I was helping a kid and I saw it was Cage. Figured he hadn’t been in touch for months, so fuck him, I’d get back to him when I was ready. Kid was really fucked. Beaten and needed a hospital.”

The guilt that choked his voice was immense. “Tenn, you didn’t know . . .”

“I should’ve.”

“If you’d picked up, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Exactly,” I told him.

He shook his head.

“Cage doesn’t blame you.”

“Makes it worse.”

“You were helping a kid. That’s what you do.”

He glanced at me. “It was Kev—the one who’s always writing.”

I put a hand to my throat. “The night I came here . . .”

“He was in the hospital already. Safe and sound. He came here about two days before I forced you to surface.” He stared up at the ceiling for a second. “Most of the guys I deal with are from fucked-up backgrounds. Not all, but—” He shrugged. “It’s a type I know well.”

“Tenn—” I put a hand on his arm.

He drew in a breath, looked like he was making a decision, and then he began, “I got into porn when I was young. Forced into it.” He paused. “I liked it. That’s not to say the business side of it wasn’t like a second rape. But really, I started the business because of my mom. She was a whore—her word, not mine. ‘Escort’ was always too fancy for her. No one protected her. I wasn’t going to let that happen to anyone else if I could help it. I don’t expect you to understand, but the background I came from . . . let’s just say, I’d have killed to have someone provide me with a safe way to make this kind of money. They’re going to do it anyway. If they do it with me, they’ve got a shot at getting on with their lives, or to keep going in this industry. Whatever floats their boat.”

“So going into the sex business helps unfuck things for them.”

“It’s not that easy a link. It’s probably more about control.”

I could understand that, more than he knew, but I didn’t say anything. The reasons people made the choices they did were alternately fascinating and heartbreaking. “You take good care of these guys. Of me.”

“I try.”

“Who takes care of you, Tenn? Was there ever anyone special?”

He smiled. “At one point, yes.”

“And?”

“He ran into special forces and never looked back,” he admitted. “Probably better that way.”

“Or maybe he’s thinking about you the same way you are him.”

“You’re very bad for me, Calla,” Tenn warned, then sighed. “You can stay here, hon. But I think you’re cheating yourself and I’m not sure why.”

“He’s dangerous,” I blurted out.

“Best things in life usually are,” Tenn countered.

“You can keep me safe.”

“Of course I can. But the thing is, Cage already set his sights on you. Once that happens . . .” He shook his head, like I had no idea what I was in for.

“He does this with a lot of women?”

“Actually, no. Never. But I’ve seen him with a single-minded focus before—in the military, with the MC. Whatever he puts his mind to, he accomplishes. He’s not an easy man, but he’s worth it.”

He wasn’t easy, but a part of me didn’t want—didn’t trust—easy. Maybe because I’d never been either easy or able to trust.

“I know you’re angry about Cage’s promise. Promises can be a freaky thing.”

“And the fact that he was alive and didn’t tell me,” I added. “Let’s not forget that.”

“Cage and my brother kept me in blackout mode too,” he said.

“Why?”

“A couple of reasons. Because Cage is in trouble—there are people still after him. Because it was safer for you, and for me and my business—for the guys involved.”

“Because whatever Bernie and Cage were involved in, I’m involved in it too.”

He didn’t deny it. But he didn’t expound on it either, deferring to Cage to tell me. Instead he offered, “Cage saved you in more ways than one. The only thing that stopped that was you taking Bernie’s picture.”

“Why’s that? They’d recognize you?”

“Maybe. They’d definitely recognize Cage. And if they’d been smart enough to take out the back of the picture, you’d find names and latitude and longitude.”