No answer ever came to my letter. I didn’t expect one. I just need to know who the hell it is. There’s a restless coil in my gut, tight and sharp, warning me that when I see their face, my whole world will detonate.
Thoughts of my stalker yank Marigold into my head. My fists clench on my thighs before I know it. Muscles tense, fingers curl, jaw locked tight.
So close. Christ, I was so damn close.
Four years of tension, heat, and near-misses, and that night was the closest we’ve ever been. I still feel the air between us sizzling, dense and suffocating, pressing on my chest until I could barely breathe.
One breath. I was a single fucking breath away from finally making her mine.
Like clockwork, the second shit tipped from playful to real, she withdrew. Before I could process it, her warmth vanished, heat to ice in a blink, like someone flipped a damn switch inside her. My chest constricted as confusion hit. She couldn’t even respond when I asked her straight up if she wanted me.
I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. Every time she pulls back, the sting makes it harder to keep trying. No matter how much I care, I’m done with the whiplash. One moment she’s staring at me like she wants to crawl inside my skin, the next she’s shoving me away like I’m poison. The shift always fucking wrecks me and leaves me hollow.
That shit is too messy. Too unstable. Too out of control. I don’t do unstable or out-of-control.
Sure in the fuck don’t do relationships. Never have, never planned to. Then Marigold swaggered into town like she owned the damn place and demanded a job at Nauti Nibbles with that fearless, unbothered state of hers. Told us we’d regret saying no.
Ballsy little menace. Surrounded by rough bikers, she didn’t flinch.
Yeah, her body caught my eye first. No sense pretending otherwise. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But it was her reckless, zero-fucks-given energy that hooked me deep. Few people stand before that much danger and make demands, but she did.
I saw it that day. That flicker. That hint of darkness tucked behind those eyes.
Can’t really say I love Marigold.
Love is a foreign language I never picked up. Watching my brothers and their partners, it looks more like a condition more than an emotion—messy, consuming, irrational. It hijacks your brain and laughs while you lose control.
I don’t like shit I can’t control.
But I care about her deeply. Dangerously. More than anyone else in my entire damn life.
I’m no fool. I won’t waste breath chasing after a woman hellbent on staying out of reach. Marigold wants me. I’ve seen it flare in her eyes, felt it sear between us. Yet something always drags her into the shadows.
She guards her secrets fiercely. Until she slays whatever demon’s gripping her mind, all I can do is respect the line she draws between us.
Friends.
Hell, it’s not like I’m lacking options. There’s a line of women ready to step in, but that does nothing for the itch under my skin or the knot tightening in my chest.
“Right. How’s the ports looking, Joker?”
Pope’s voice cuts clean through my thoughts.
I snatch up my pen and notebook. Their familiar heft steadies me. Ink and paper—my anchor when everything else feels unsteady.
“Everything’s running smoothly. There were some unfriendlies off the coast. Their boats seemed to have someissues, but we got them fixed. Gave them some sightseeing options before leaving,” Joker says, mouth curving with that wicked smirk.
Sightseeing.
Yeah. Meaning those dumb bastards and their boats got a guided tour of the ocean floor. Satisfaction flickers. Violence always brings relief, even if it’s just a little.
Nice.
“How’s the negotiations with Ghost? Have we heard anything from him yet?” Pope asks, moving down the list.
“Nothing yet, Prez,” Malice answers, voice flat with irritation. “Fucker likes to live up to his name.”
“If we don’t hear anything by next week, we’ll find him. Kaiko wouldn’t have recommended him unless he could get us what we need.”
