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“I don’t need this. Just protect her. That’s all I need to know about any of this plan you all have.” He grabbed his cane and began to walk away. As he headed around the corner, he spotted Alana. She was talking to Vincent, deputy Will Peters’ cousin.
A deep, angry, jealous feeling filled him as he watched Vincent touch her hand and lift her wrist up to look at some bracelet she wore. How dare the fucker touch her? It seemed she had an effect on every man around her, and they all felt compelled to be close to her. She was his girlfriend. He was the first man to ever make love to her. He was shocked that thought hit his brain because then came the thought of another man having her. He saw red just thinking of Vincent touching her body and making her moan in pleasure. But when he thought of himself loving her, he felt incapable, weak, and not whole. He would need his brothers, his team, to make her his woman again. That thought struck him so hard that he felt the tears reach his eyes and his belly ache with the realization.
They all needed one another here, and without them, he would always feel not good enough. But with his team, with all of them claiming Alana as their woman, then he could feel as though there was a chance at a little bit of happiness with the woman he’d fought so hard to live for.
* * * *
“So my cousin is going to be doing some drive-bys even at night. So don’t be too concerned if you see some lights and vehicles near the woods,” Vincent told her.
“That’s very kind of him. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
Vincent reached up and gently glided a strand of her hair between his fingers.
“You should always take precautions anyway. In fact, we should exchange numbers so, if you ever need anything, I can get to your place fast,” he told her.
“I don’t think she’ll be needing that, Vincent.”
Alana swung her head around to see Gabe, and she nearly lost her balance. She hadn’t expected him to show up or to interrupt this conversation. By the way he had been acting and his whole dead-to-the-world attitude, she was floored.
“Gabe. How are you doing?” Vincent asked him and reached out his hand to shake Gabe’s.
Gabe was a gentleman and did so, and Vincent seemed to look at Gabe as if he felt sorry for him. Something clicked inside of Alana’s head.
“I was just being neighborly and letting Alana know that she has a friend nearby she can call if she ever needs anything.” Vincent winked at Alana.
“Yeah, well, she has my buddies, and they’ll be watching over her. In fact, we were waiting for her to come back to the tables for lunch. So if you don’t mind…” Gabe said to Vincent.
“I’ll see you in town, Alana, or maybe at Casper’s next week. Friday and Saturday are your nights, right?”
“Yes. I’ll see you around, and thank your cousin for me please.”
“I’m sure he’ll be by your place. You can thank him yourself.”
She smiled as he walked away. Vincent was a very nice guy. A lot nicer than when he had a few too many drinks in him.
“I don’t want you talking to him. He’ll take it the wrong way and think you’re interested.”
She shot a look at Gabe. He was so big and tall that her head tilted back to nearly her shoulders. “You don’t want me talking to him? Really? Why would you even care who I talk to? You’re dead to me, remember?” she said in anger and began to walk away.
He grabbed her arm and held her close. Their bodies pressed together, and she gasped. This was how it always was with them. This intense connection, this desire and need so overwhelming they had to have one another and be close.
He immediately stepped back, recomposed himself, and looked away from her then back.
The bastard. How the hell can he do that? He had to have felt what I felt. Why was he trying so hard to push me away? Why am I even here talking to him? Because I still love him. Fudge!
“He’s not right for you. Besides, I said I was dead and had my reasons for doing that.”
“Like what kind of reasons?” she asked him as she tried to look into his dark eyes and see something, anything that could give her a hint to his way of thinking right now.
“I’m not going to talk about it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it matters to me. It matters to your parents and all the people in Scrantonville who think you’re still dead.”
“Alana, don’t push me. I have my reasons.”
“So you keep telling me. How can you stand there and expect me to not be angry with you? To not break down and cry because of everything I went through thinking you were dead this entire time?”
“What you went through? What about what I went through? Have you turned into such a self-centered princess?”
