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8
Mare
Groggy and disoriented, a loud noise brought me from the depths of sleep. My mind struggled to figure out why the bed I was lying on felt different, why it felt softer than mine, because I knew, for sure, I couldn’t afford something this luxurious. Maybe it just felt softer because I was more exhausted than usual.
I shook away that thought when I realized my face felt abnormally stiff and puffy. Maybe I was getting sick. Without opening my eyes, I reached up and scrubbed my fingers down my cheeks.How late had I gotten in last night?I wondered idly.
As I tried to recall what had happened and how I’d ended up getting home, I peeled open my dry, sore eyes. What I saw sent me into hyperawareness, my throat closing in my panic as I shot up in the notably unfamiliar bed. I turned my head, scanning the room. The bedroom itself was dark, but in the dim glow from the cracked hallway door, I could see that it wasn’t my basement studio. The walls were a deep, rich blue, and the bed was large, dwarfing me in an abundance of sheets. My thoughts raced through my head, reminding me of all the things that could have happened. My father, the drunk from the bar … but then I remembered.
Ian, Archer, and Jensen.
“Fuck me,” I muttered shakily, trying to calm my racing heart.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?I thought as my eyes finally adjusted to the dark. No one was nearby, but they had always been good at moving silently, sneaking up on me before I realized they were even there. Not wanting to wait around, I slipped off of the king-sized mattress. Someone had taken the time to change me into a pair of too long sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.
Of course, they’d dressed me. I sighed, unable to stop myself from being irritated. With them, there was never any privacy, no boundaries that they wouldn’t cross, even now. The adrenaline from my startling wake up faded from my system as I moved quietly around the room. Heading to the door, I listened briefly against the wooden barrier before sticking my head out. I had two choices: go further down the hall or head to where I heard the whispers. Curbing the urge to go creeping around where they’d been living, knowing they would find out if I touched anything, I decided to go left and follow the voices.
“She shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Jensen hissed, “and that man shouldn’t ever have been able to lay a hand on her at all.”
“I said I took care of it.” Ian’s voice was hard and cold; even without being in the living space, I felt the tension between the three of them. “Besides, our little bird is listening.”
“Took long enough.” Archer chuckled, his head popping around the corner from where he sat at the counter, his eyes immediately finding mine.Busted. “You don’t have to creep around or hide.” He held his hand out, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it. Everything about them returning was still too raw, too fresh. “Come on, Mare. Time to face the music.”
“Sounded like you were having an important conversation.” I raised one shoulder in a half-assed shrug before letting it drop. When he realized I wasn’t going to take his hand, he dropped it with a soft sigh. I chose to ignore the tiny frown curling his lips and the glint of hurt in his icy eyes as I stepped the rest of the way into the room.
Glancing around, I saw a small but well-kept kitchen. The counters were dark stone, cabinets a worn oak, and the stainless-steel appliances seemed to stand out against the dated decor of the space. Archer took his seat on one of the stools at the island. Jensen stood next to him, leaning against the counter with his hand on the flat surface.
They were two sides of the same coin, one with short chestnut hair, warm mossy hazel eyes, and golden tan skin. Jensen’s jaw was still clean shaven, showcasing a chiseled edge and strong cheekbones whereas Archer was pale with light blonde hair, icy eyes, and a scruffy beard. Both attractive as sin and staring shamelessly. There was no outward hostility swirling in their gazes, but I knew Ian would have enough for them all. Taking a deep breath, I glanced to the right, my gaze locking with his.
The dark blue depths were closed off as he observed me. I never understood how he could look at someone without an ounce of emotion, but that’s exactly what he was doing. I should have been upset, knowing he was choosing to conceal those emotions from me, but after all this time, I didn’t expect much else. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just plain bored. He gave nothing away as he leaned back against the counter, facing the others, crossing his arms tightly over his muscled chest. The layer of stubble he used to have was cut short, more of a five o’clock shadow, his jaw tensing visibly as he stared.
Something stirred deep within me, a desire I hadn’t acknowledged in years, growing as I stood there. As much as I tried to come up with something to say, everything I could think of seemed inadequate after all these years. It was only when my skin prickled, goosebumps pebbled under an intense wave of their concentrated gazes moving down my body, that I forced my attention away from Ian.
“What?” I ground out, frowning as Archer stared blatantly at my chest. Glancing down, I saw the white lace of my bra did nothing to hide the way my nipples puckered against the nearly translucent material of my borrowed shirt. Heat flared across my cheeks, warmth blooming against my skin as Archer and Jensen both smirked. Grinding my teeth, I crossed my arms over my chest, blocking their view. As much as I enjoyed knowing they loved to look, they wouldn’t be answering any of my questions if they were too busy eye-fucking me, and I purposely chose to ignore the fact that their leisurely perusal sent a familiar shiver down my spine.
“It’s good to see you, Mare.” The words came from Jensen. I looked up and met his hazel gaze, shifting from side to side as I grew uncomfortable under the intensity of the three of them. I’d become so used to hiding in the shadows, making myself plain and boring and part of the crowd, that the current amount of attention I was getting was starting to make my skin prickle.
“Why are you here?” I asked. I’d known—or had at least theorized—that they’d been here for a little while, stalking my every move. There was no other logical explanation for the birthday flowers I had gotten, but why now? Why would they have watched for a week or two before approaching me? Were they afraid of my reaction? Because being scared to hell and back about my father possibly finding me wasn’t exactly a great welcome, and I was still riding the anger of that even now.
I shook away the thoughts, knowing—hoping—I’d have answers soon enough. It was a little different to have them in front of me again. It shifted the balance of what little power I had taken in my life. I did not deal well with that kind of change and certainly not anymore. I had my routine, and I stuck to it … or, well, I had, until tonight. It had kept me safe, kept me alive in the wake of the price my father no doubt had on my head. I was sure it was only a matter of time before he found me, and I didn’t want them in the crosshairs when that happened.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Ian asked, his voice a low thunderous rumble that skated up my spine. The effect his deep voice had on me still hadn’t changed, and my body turned to putty at the underlining gravelly command within his question. As I stared him down, holding steady with his hard gaze, I was beginning to wonder if it ever would.
I contemplated if I should tell the truth or push him with a smartass response—something that might throw him off—but in my exhaustion, I finally decided to go with the truth. “For me,” I murmured.
He nodded, his brow cocking slightly. “Then there was no need to ask, now, was there?”
I narrowed my eyes, growing irritated as if those two words were enough of an explanation of why they had come barreling back into my life. “That still doesn’t tell me anything,” I pointed out. “Witness protection assured me that no one would be able to find me. I have a new identity, a new life. You shouldn’t even know who I am much lesswhereI am. As far as the law is concerned, America Perelli doesn’t exist anymore. All that’s left is Mary Peterson.”
“America Perelli will never be dead—not to us. If you thought this was how you got away from us, you were wrong. We will always find you. Wherever you go, we’ll fucking be there, baby. You can’t lie to us, we know you enjoy us watching you, knowing we’re there.” Ian moved forward until he was within touching distance, but I didn’t try to stop him.
Even after the distance that had been between the four of us, I still felt that internal tug towards him—towards the three of them—that made me ignore the things my logical brain said were good for me—like running far, far away from them to keep them safe. The only time I’d managed to break their hold on me long enough to do something smart had been when the US Marshals had taken me away from that courtroom. That had been the last time I’d seen them, and when the decision to let my father walk had been made, I’d believed it always would be. Until this moment.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, and then, as if I couldn’t help the small bratty part of me that was angry at them—angry that they hadn’t come forward sooner, angry that I hadn’t seen them for so long even though it was my fault—I continued. “I don’tneedyou here,” I snapped. “You should go back to your lives. Stop following me around.”
“You don’t need us?” Jensen sounded pissed as well as confused. He peered around Ian, staring at me with shock etched into his features. “You almost got raped tonight, Mare.”
“I had it handled.” The lie burned on my tongue, but I had to keep a brave face. Push through or else they’d keep coming back, keep watching me. And as much as I didn’t want this little game of ours to stop—didn’t want to feel their eyes fade from my back—I knew it had to. Their safety meant more to me than how long we might have together before my father found me.
