Dannika Dark - Seven Years

“You will. Sit on the branch and put your feet on the one below it.”

My legs were locked up and stiff, and what scared me was the branch below was farther down than I thought. I’d have to let go of the trunk and sit down, but as I did this, I wobbled. “I’m going to fall,” I warned.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he said, not attempting to conceal his soft laugh.

Screw it , I thought. I spun around, lowered my legs, gripped the branch, dangled in midair, and slipped.

I squeezed my eyes shut and Austin caught me from behind.

His right arm tightened around my stomach and it punched the air out of my lungs. My legs were shaky and he held me for a minute before I noticed my tank top had slid out of place. As he let go, I quickly pulled it down and wiped pieces of bark off my shorts.

“How long were you up there?”

I picked a leaf out of my hair and turned around. “Long enough that I have to pee.”

He spun on his heel to give me privacy. I walked over to Naya’s phone and stuffed it in my pocket, then limped toward the car and grabbed my shoe.

“I’m not sure what kind of girl you think I am, Austin, but I’m not going to pee in a graveyard.”

“I seem to remember you having no problem reliving yourself behind a church.” Austin looked away, no doubt to hide his smile.

“Hey, you said you’d never bring that up again. That was supposed to go to the grave.”

Then I looked around at where we were and snorted.

The back of my arm burned and my joints were stiff. Austin jogged up beside me and pulled a piece of bark from my hair.

“What were you doing out here?” he asked.

“Making sure I didn’t leave a mess behind.”

“I cleaned that up,” Austin replied matter-of-factly.

I broke my stride and studied his thick brows that framed the clearest eyes I’d ever seen. “Why did you let me drive home drunk? I could have been killed.”

He folded his arms and I stole a glimpse of his tats. They disappeared beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

“I didn’t. You think I’d let you drive off in that condition?” He huffed with irritation and shook his head. “I didn’t want to rifle through your purse to find out where you lived, so I left you in front of your mom’s house.”

“How did you get back home?”

“Meet foot one and foot two,” he said, pointing down at his shoes. “Let’s go somewhere with air conditioning.”

“I have to do laundry. You get one rinse and spin to tell your story and then I have errands to run.”

Without another word, we got in our separate cars and he followed me to the Laundromat. Austin said he’d join me in a minute and took off toward a convenience store across the street where I sometimes grabbed a hot dog and soda. The laundry bags weighed a ton, but the handles at the top allowed me to drag them across the polished floor. I put in the first load and pumped a few coins into the washer.

Minutes passed and I hopped up on one of the machines to read a magazine.

“Let me see your arm,” Austin said, coming up on my left. He held a bottle of peroxide in one hand and a box of bandages in the other.

“Huh?” I spun my left arm around but couldn’t see anything.

“Your arm is bleeding, Sherlock. Lift it up and let me have a look.” He set the supplies down and raised my left arm over my head. That’s when I could see the scrape on my upper arm. It was deep and pretty gnarly-looking.

“So, are you going to tell me your life story, or are you stalling again?” I prodded.

“ Christ ,” he said under his breath.

“What?”

He shook his head. “I forgot to buy cotton balls.” He set the brown bottle of peroxide on the washer.

Before I could make a suggestion, Austin peeled off his shirt, wadded it into a ball, and doused it with peroxide.

I was pretty sure I would never buy another cotton ball again if this was the alternative solution.

Austin brushed my long hair away from my shoulder and eased between my legs. While he dabbed at my cut with his T-shirt, I got a bird’s-eye view of his torso. He smelled musky and everything about his body was different from the man I remembered. Not bulgy steroid-looking arms like Beckett, but solid. Then there was that sexy six-pack down below, and I tried not to look because I felt Austin watching me out of the corner of his eye. I lifted my gaze and focused on his tattoos instead.

Nope, that wasn’t helping either.

They weren’t so much on his bicep as they were on his shoulders, with tribal patterns sharpening down his upper arms and branching onto part of his chest. The last time I’d seen him, he was twenty-three and leaner. Austin was always tough by nature, just not in stature. He had always been the guy you didn’t want to mess with, and his nose was slightly crooked from one of his many fights.

Time had changed him, and in all the right ways.

“So?” I pressed.

“Is this where we’re having the talk?” he asked, dropping his arms and tearing the wrapper from a bandage. His blue eyes flashed to mine as a warning. If I said yes, there was no going back. We were going to have some kind of important talk in a Laundromat.

I’d never seen Austin wear jewelry or watches, so I leaned in and admired his necklace again.

He grinned and looked down. “You like it? It’s a family heirloom—a talisman that brings good fortune. My dad gave it to me about a month ago.”

“Does your family still live here?”

“My parents moved away years ago, but my brothers—we’re back for good.”

I quieted and Austin tapped beneath my chin with the crook of his finger—something he used to do whenever I was moping.

“Mom was really hurt when you took off,” I said. “She thought of you like a second son, and it destroyed her when Wes died and you left too. It was like she’d lost two kids.”

He put his hands on the washer and leaned forward. “Wes didn’t die in an accident; he was murdered.”

I gasped. My heart rate took off and the room closed in. “What did you just say?”

“Wes was tangled up with some bad people. I tried to keep him away because he was getting too deep into my world. He tried to cut a deal with the wrong man—someone you don’t make deals with—and when he didn’t follow through, they put a hit on him. They staged it like an accident, but I tracked down the piece of shit who did it.”

“Wes was murdered ?”

I shoved against his chest and he stepped back, rubbing his jaw. “That’s why I left town—to track down his killer. It took me six months to find him and…”

“And what?”

He folded his arms and lifted his chin. “And I took care of him.” His brows popped up when he said “took care of,” and I knew what he meant. “Not long after that, I was offered a job as a bounty hunter. I made a career out of tracking down the worst kind of men. It was too dangerous for me to stay here.”

“If you took care of him, then where was the danger?”

“I took care of the killer, not the man responsible for putting the hit on Wes.” Austin rocked on his heels and briefly grasped his talisman before dropping it again. His cheeks were red from the heat and he rubbed his jaw, looking around. “Sorry, I can’t explain everything to you here.”

“Cat and mouse. I see how this is going to be.”

I tried to hop down, but he stepped so close I had nowhere to go. Austin flattened his hands on either side of my legs. An electric charge hummed between us—or at least it felt that way. Maybe it was just me, or the vibration of the nearby appliances, but something felt so very different about Austin and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

He leaned in close. Hard. His chest pushed out and we were nose to nose.