CHAPTER SEVEN

CHRISTIAN

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I’m not a good guy.

I’ve never claimed to be. I’ve done some shitty stuff I’m not proud of but putting Isaac Walton into the ground for touching Mira ... oh, I’ll pull that orange jumpsuit on with a smile. I’ll skip to fucking jail.

He was still at his mother’s tit when shit went down with Daniel, Lucy and me. Clearly, no one has told him about me. He has no idea the monumental fuck up he’s gotten himself into, but it’s the fact that he thought I would be like the other sheep wandering the streets of Jefferson that is the most insulting.

That badge, in this town means shit to me.

“You touched the wrong girl, Walton,” I tell him quietly. “I will skin you alive if I find one scratch on her.”

For this one, I drag my jacket off and toss it over the edge of Daniel’s truck bed; I want nothing to hinder the several felonies I’m about to commit.

“Hey, you stop right there,” the piece of shit stammers around a mouthful of blood. “I’m still deputy and I will—”

I feel myself smirk. “You’ll what?” I taunt. “I’m not a hundred-pound girl. You can’t manhandle me, though I would pay money to see you try.”

I see the little weasel tighten his grip on the gun, and I think I’m okay dying when an outside voice halts both of us.

Daniel and Sheriff Brewer emerge with Jacob Webster right on their heels; little snitch must have gone to get help when shit got hot between me and Walton.

What a bitch.

“What the hell is going on?” Brewer snarls, sharp gaze darting from Walton’s bloody face to Parker standing in the middle of the road, cradling his gun and looking torn. In the end, his attention stops on me and narrows. “Did you assault my officers, MacAllister?”

“That depends—” I begin, only to have Daniel step between me and the other man.

“Don’t say another fucking word.” My brother warns before turning to the Sheriff, but whatever defense he has prepared, Mira beats him to it.

“They attacked us.”

The tiny brunette pushes her door open and steps down onto the truck’s footrest. Her eyes are fire and defiance. She angles her arm to show the jagged pieces of torn skin at her elbow and the thin trickle of blood running down her left knee from the shredded skin.

I drag in a breath to calm the urge to break the rest of Walton’s face with my fist. To follow through on my promise and skin him alive.

Walton must have sensed my dilemma; piece of shit scuffles back a step when I turn my head to him in deliberation.

“Christian was protecting me after they forced me out of the truck,” Mira finishes. “They hit him.”

Daniel is molten fury by the time she finishes.

He bares his teeth and faces the sheriff, and even I take a step back because Daniel doesn’t lose his cool. He’s the calm one, the rational one. The one that became a damn criminal attorney to use words to solve problems.

I’m the menace. The one that will punch a guy. Fuck words.

But the fact that Daniel has grown in size, his aura a black smear of blood lust strong enough to catch the attention of the motherfucker pretending their piece of shit town is fine says a lot.

“Who?”

The word is sliced through a clenched jaw and Walton shifts slightly, probably ready to bolt, but only managing to draw attention to himself.

Daniel snaps his head in the boy’s direction, a wolf catching the scent of a wounded rabbit.

“All three of them,” Mira says without hesitation, and I fucking love that. I love that she’s not letting any of them get away with their bullshit. “They came to the car, demanded I get out. Wouldn’t tell me what I did wrong. They were holding me hostage against the car—”

“She’s lying!” Walton breaks in.

“You will not interrupt her again if you know what’s good for you,” Daniel warns deep in his throat.

“I asked them several times to back up, but they were saying disgusting things and getting closer. I don’t know what they would have done if Christian hadn’t shown up when he did. That one,” she jabs a finger towards Walton, “Attacked Christian. Hit him. I begged them to stop and he shoved me.”

Daniel seems to wait until she’s run out of things to say before he draws in a deep, harsh breath through his nose. The nostrils flare in time with the expansion of his chest. A deep, feral growl rumbles up his chest.

I only just manage to scramble out of his path when my brother turns to the deputy practically pissing himself in the street.

“She grabbed my arm when I was restraining MacAllister,” he babbles, but Daniel is headed for him with murder in his eyes.

I don’t stop him because I’m a good brother. That fucker needs his teeth knocked down his throat and if Daniel won’t, I will.

I move to Mira. I stand between her and anyone stupid enough to get close.

“Wait,” she breathes, and I think she’s talking to Daniel because her hands fall onto my shoulders like she’s trying to get past me.

“They need to learn a lesson, sweetheart,” I try to explain, except Brewer takes that moment to step into Daniel’s path.

“Now, hold on a minute, MacAllister. You’re not assaulting one of my officers—”

Daniel cuts him a razor-sharp glance that would have silenced even me. “Not one. Every one of the motherfuckers who touched Mira. Give them to me or get out of my way.”

Brewer doesn’t move, but I can see him fumbling between patience and words. “Stand down!” he blurts instead. “You will control yourself or—”

Daniel stops. His dark eyes drop to the other man standing between him and his prey. “Your men can assault women in broad daylight, pull out their guns in the middle of town with people walking all over — children! But I’m out of control?”

Patches of color erupts beneath the Sheriff’s withered cheeks, but he stays his ground.

“We can discuss this inside.”

Daniel doesn’t budge. “I don’t think so, Sheriff. In a few short hours, your men have arrested my brother under false and fabricated charges, lied about it, wrongfully contained him, refused him legal counsel, or a phone call. They assaulted my woman. They assaulted my brother for protecting her. I really don’t think talking is going to solve this. The only thing this has shown me is that you have no control over your station or your men—”

Brewer huffs indignant. “How dare you—”

Daniel ignores him. “Unless you’re telling me you authorized this attack on my family?” he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Either way, this is a gross use of power.”

Brewer shoots his men a hard side eye that has them cowering back towards the sidewalk like beaten dogs. “I will get to the bottom of this.”

Daniel shakes his head. “Not good enough.” He takes a step closer, a gesture that has the three stiffening like they’re ready to pull their weapons again, but Brewer doesn’t flinch. “Stay away from us. Stay away from Christian, from me, and definitely from Mira. She’s off limits to you and the fine folk of Jefferson. If anyone even looks at her, I don’t give a fuck what you tell the world about me, I will burn this entire town to ashes. In a few days, we’ll be gone and you will never see us again.”

Without waiting for a response, Daniel turns and moves to where Mira and I stand. I step aside and she doesn’t shy away when he reaches her.

Her fingers are already extended for him even before his hands settle on her waist. Her blue eyes are fixed on him as if nothing and no one exists, except him.

It’s all so intimate. So personal. Even Brewer and his men refuse to stick around or argue the blatant threats made. The older man marches his men back into the station, leaving me to stand like an idiot, watching the two lose themselves in each other.

“Did they hurt you?” he’s asking Mira when I make my way to where I’d tossed my jacket.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs. “Scared me mostly.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I should have known better.”

Mira’s arms slide around Daniel. Small fingers slip through the short strands of hair at the back of his head. I think for a heartbeat that she’s going to kiss him, but her face tilts at the last second and presses into the side of his neck. His arms tighten around her. His hands move over her back. Her hair.

“You called me your woman,” she says. “Did you mean it?”

His fingers tighten in her silken strands. “I did. Objections?”

Mira promptly shakes her head. Her eyes are gleaming with excitement and a happiness that makes my stomach hurt.

It looks so fucking good on her. I’ve never done hard drugs, but I know I could easily get addicted to wanting more of it, wanting that light, that sweet little smile. It’s no wonder Daniel’s gone over her.

I toss my jacket on and go the long way around to the opposite door. Neither notice me climb into the backseat and wait.

It only lasts a few minutes longer. Mira pulls back and Daniel cups the side of her face. He brushes a thumb over her cheek the way mom used to when we were sick or hurt, or just before bed. It was her silent I love you, because the dirt bag she married hated when she coddled us. It was our secret language.

But he says something and Mira nods.

Daniel grins and coils a lock of hair around his finger. It’s given a playful tug before he’s nudging her back into her seat. The door is shut behind her and he’s moving around the truck to get in behind the wheel.

“Breakfast?” he says, snapping his belt into place.

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I need to get my baby out of impound before they strip her for parts.”

Mira pops the glove box open as Daniel pulls out of our parking spot. She unearths a tiny packet of tissues and passes the whole thing over to me.

I stare at it a long moment, puzzled.

“You have...” she gestures to her own mouth.

I roll my tongue over my teeth and taste the copper. I grunt and accept the offering.

“Thanks.”

She nods and faces forward.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Daniel decides. “We’ll eat, get groceries for the next few days and go grab your bike. Sound good?”

It doesn’t.

My baby’s already been behind bars for hours. Who knows what they’re doing to her, but I know why he’s chosen that order; the impound is in the opposite direction of town, the restaurants and shops, but it’s in the direction of the cabin. It wouldn’t make sense to go back and forth.

So, I relent.

I sit back in my seat and do my best to clean the blood off my face. But the whole time, my attention keeps drifting to the figure holding my brother’s fingers between both of her hands. Thumb gliding over his knuckles. Her face is turned to the window, head back, quiet like she’s a million miles away.

Her slap is still a sharp reminder across my cheek. She’s a tiny thing, but she carries a wallop. I almost saw stars.

It was my own hurt and anger that kept me from feeling the full burn of it.

“The fact that you think I would ever choose you over Daniel...”

Why would she?

No one ever did.

Daniel is what she deserves. He’s the one everyone has always ever wanted.

The athlete. The guy every girl wanted because he wasn’t an anti-social reject with severe aggression.

I was always the other MacAllister. The weird, emo kid with the baggy hoodies in the middle of a heat wave. The stoner and burn out with no future.

No one ever picked me, and I’ve learned to live with that. Still, something about hearing Mira say it ... this random girl who I shouldn’t give two shits about, I was eighteen all over again and it was Lucy standing in front of me. Spitting those words from her soft lips still coated in my cum.

My fingers drum against my thigh. A restless patter that weirdly calms the anxious energy coursing through my nerves. My gaze slants back to the tiny bundle watching the tidy streets of Jefferson scroll past her window with her lip caught between her teeth.

The image of her lunging at Walton to stop him from hitting me replays through my mind. Her tiny frame clinging to his arm, trying to wrestle it down.

Aside from Daniel, no one has ever stood up for me before.

Mom tried.

But never a stranger with no motives or reason to. She hadn’t even paused.

“Why did no one help?”

The silence had stretched for so long, both Daniel and I lost in our thoughts, that we jump with Mira’s quiet question.

“What?” Daniel asks.

Mira tips her chin towards a small cluster of people huddled around a lemonade stand some chubby cheeked little girl has set up along the curb.

“They saw what was happening. No one did anything. Actually acted like they didn’t even notice.” She turns her face to the man behind the wheel, her brows creased between the turmoil behind her eyes. “They were going to shoot Christian. I don’t understand. What did you guys do that was this bad?”

Daniel’s deep exhale packs into the cabin and I don’t blame him. I definitely don’t envy the decision he now has to make.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs at long last. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s my fault for leaving you—”

“You didn’t leave me outside a crack den, Daniel. It was the police station. I wasn’t approached by meth heads. They were law enforcement. I don’t understand...”

Daniel squeezes her small fingers and brings them to his lips. “I promise to explain everything. Let’s just get breakfast and get back, okay?”

I can see the need to argue, to push for an explanation, but Mira huffs out a grumble and sits back.

“Were you raised in a cult?” she blurts.

Against my better judgement, I burst out laughing because she’s not far off. Jefferson is definitely part of a cult run by the four most powerful families — the original founding members. Each controlling a key sector.

Law enforcement.

Government.

Religion.

Banking.

Together, they protect Jefferson from the evils of the outside world by keeping an iron grip around the people.

“Maybe,” Daniel answers, chuckling. “Didn’t feel like it growing up. The rules seemed normal. Reasonable.”

“Anything is normal when you don’t know better and it’s fed to you every second of the day,” I cut in.

Mira turns her head back and our gazes lock. Her soft blue eyes are the clear blue of the Mediterranean. Perfect pools with just a faint ring of black.

Last night, when I had her against the wall, her thick, musky scent a siren’s song floating through my system, all I could think was how her eyes reminded me of the ocean right before dusk, when it’s a vast, dark void prepared to pull men to their deaths.

In the sharp glare of day, they are so open. So vulnerable. They make me want to gather her up and protect her from the cold world.

I would go to war for her, I think stupidly. I’d slay a fucking dragon for her.

“Are you okay?” she breaks into my ridiculous thoughts.

I don’t know this girl.

I have no reason to be this delusional over her.

But, God, she’s fucking with my head.

“Now, that you’re not throwing yourself between me and a gun?”

Daniel’s head whips in her direction with such speeds, I hear his neck crack. “You what?”

Mira winces. Her gaze flicks away from him to flash me a, you fucker , glower before returning.

All fucking big eyes and innocence.

Bullshit.

She can fool my brother with her sweet, baby girl face, but I’ve seen her fire. I’ve seen her passion. She’s the flame on a candle, vibrant and dangerous. She’ll give you comforting light or she’ll burn your fucking house to the ground.

She’s a little brat beneath all that pouty lip crap and I fucking love it.

“He didn’t have a gun. I grabbed his arm. He was going to hit Christian for no reason.”

“Parker had his gun,” I add to her torment. “He could have shot you when you lunged at Walton.”

“Mira!” Daniel snaps.

A muscle tightens in her delicate jawline and if looks could kill, Daniel would be planning my funeral because she levels me with all the promises of a slow death brimming behind her eyes.

“You’re right. I should have just let you get your ass kicked.”

Rude.

“Walton’s an idiot. I would have been fine,” I retort, folding my arms.

“Most people would say thank you for trying to help.”

I scoff. “I am not thanking you for almost getting yourself killed for me, you little brat.”

The words spill off my tongue before I can register them.

Mira blinks. Her big eyes are too focused fixing on me again. A little too sharp.

Intrigued.

Aroused.

So, she likes it.

The realization has something shifting in my chest. Unlocking fantasies I should keep under bolt and key. The things this new knowledge has unleashed nearly has me shifting in my seat as my cock stirs awake.

Daniel saves her from me, from my hands closing around her arms and dragging her into the back with me just to see how much of a brat she actually is.

“You will never do that again,” he barks at her. “Do you understand?”

I can see the unholy defiance twisting her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes. It’s there. The explosion she’s barely containing and I can’t fucking help myself.

“Daddy’s mad.” I snicker, give her restraint that final poke.

Her head snaps back and I give her a smirk that flares her nostrils.

“Christian!”

Mira and I ignore Daniel’s warning growl. Both of us locked in a heated clash of wills.

“I should have let you get shot,” she hisses.

I shrug and nod. “You should have.”

“Next time, I will.”

“Good. That’s my favorite kink.”

She makes a choking sound I’m pretty sure is supposed to be a smothered laugh, but she bottles it down behind the tight twist of her lips.

“There’s something definitely wrong with you,” she decides with a toss of her hands.

“Only one?” I feign outrage. “Am I losing my touch?”

“Oh my God.”

Despite the fire still bright in her eyes, she’s not quick enough to turn back in her seat and twist her head towards the window before I catch the amused curl of her lips.

“I’m glad I made my point.”

Without glancing back — her first mistake — little brat raises an arm and flips me the middle finger.

Oh.

Oh hell no.

I unlatch my belt quietly, slide to the edge of my seat, grab her delicate wrist and bite the extended digit.

Her yelp is delicious.

Her struggling is better as she tears herself free and pivots in her seat to gape at me with wide eyed horror.

I’m vaguely aware of Daniel snapping for us both to settle down.

Fuck that.

This is far more fun.

“You fucking bit me!”

“I would have spanked you but you’re too far.”

Her soft mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out for several seconds.

“You can’t just bite people!” she huffs, visibly shaken, but she’s not scared.

The beautiful flush in her cheeks isn’t from fear. The rapid rise and fall of her chest isn’t terror.

My little brat is aroused.

“You should behave,” I counter, dropping my voice, enjoying the way she shifts in her seat and darts an uncertain glance towards Daniel.

She’s cradling her bitten hand to her chest.

“Go ahead,” I taunt, emboldened by the sweet scent of her filling the truck. “Tell Daddy what I did.”

Expression a delectable mix between outrage and sulking brat, Mira lifts her middle finger for Daniel to see the faint indents of my teeth fading on her skin.

“He bit me ... like some rabid chipmunk.”

It’s hilarious.

I want to laugh at the indignation, but I lift my gaze.

In the rear-view mirror, Daniel’s opaque glare meets mine. The heated warning is clear even as my brother takes the pint-sized woman’s extended fingers and draws them to his lips.

The kiss is slow, open mouthed.

Intimate.

I’m not sure Mira’s even breathing as her hooded eyes stay locked on Daniel. Her own mouth hangs slightly open like she’d been about to speak but no longer has the capability.

“Stop it, Christian,” my brother warns me against her knuckles.

He’s not telling me to stop teasing Mira.

He’s telling me to stop teasing him.

I only smirk and slide back in my seat and watch Mira practically turn to a puddle in her seat with the finger Daniel is still lightly trailing kisses across.

I’m still enjoying the pain in Mira’s too expressive features when we reach Mama May’s Dine-In, the only diner in Jefferson. The place all gossip gets circulated and hierarchies are created. There are no downtimes and every regular has their own designated table. I know we’ll get recognized right off the hop. I know by supper time, every nosy bitch in town will know the MacAllister boys are back ... with a young, pretty thing. They will speculate who she is and where she’d come from. The diner people will converse with the Main Street people who happened to pass by while Mira was being assaulted and did nothing because she was an outsider and thus not their problem.

Hell, she could have been born and bred in Jefferson and people would still find a way to isolate her, ignore her pleas if they were told to.

Fuck, that still pisses me off.

And she’s not even mine!

That’s the craziest part. I was ready to commit every crime in the book for a girl I only just met.

A girl who slapped me.

Okay, maybe I deserved it, but that’s not even the worst part.

I liked it.

I liked the challenge. The raw, primal hunger to break her into submission.

I liked the fire in her eyes, the taste of my blood on my teeth.

I like her fight. I want her to struggle and buck and tell me she hates me just to fall completely to pieces when I fuck her. I want her rabid and feral, and fucking wild.

I want her to run for her fucking life so I can hunt her down, tear off her clothes and fuck her until she’s screaming and cumming all over my cock.

But she’s Daniel’s. I don’t know to what extent because they haven’t fucked. I know they haven’t; the dress covers very little of her soft, sweet skin, and Daniel isn’t gentle, but beyond that, I can smell — not literally — the innocence on her. I can almost taste her wants, her needs. She wants to get fucked, hard and mercilessly by the man gripping her fingers possessively and he’s being a little bitch.

That will not do.

We have a reputation to uphold and I’m not about to let my big brother fumble this.

The truck is pulled into a spot behind a sea of other vehicles, in view, but out of the way. Daniel kills the engine and kicks open his door. I wad up my used tissues into the truck door to discard later. I could take them into the diner, but if I go in there with blood-stained tissues, someone might create a voodoo doll of me and do weird things with it.

So, I chuck them aside as Daniel gets to Mira’s door. He yanks it open as I push my own door open.

He keeps a steady palm on the small of her back as we make our way towards the short, white building with four walls of gleaming glass. The parking lot is reasonably full for nearly midafternoon. The nearest building is the gas station across the street which makes me pray the place isn’t full.

I’ve had a long night, a longer morning, and I’m starving. If anyone tells me there’s a wait for my bacon and eggs, we’re going to have problems.

I’m eyeing the windows, gauging our chances at a table when Mira suddenly stops and faces me. Her unexpected presence in my path startles me to a halt. My gaze drops to her beautiful, upturned face.

I feel myself grin. “What’s up, Goldilocks?” I tease.

The tiny temptress matches my grin. “You still have blood on your face. Do you have any of the tissues?”

I reach for my pockets already knowing my self-pat-down is useless, but shake my head.

Mira glances at Daniel who gives her a slight head shake.

She takes a deep breath and faces me once more. Then, without pausing, she pops her thumb into her mouth and swipes the pad across her pink tongue.

I don’t move. I stay perfectly still as she reaches up and lightly brushes the damp finger along the seam of my bottom lip. She has to go up on her toes to reach and her free hand is on my shoulder for balance. She’s so close, I can smell the scent of her skin. I can count the dozens of freckles scattered across her button nose like brown sugar. I’m struggling to keep my arms from encircling her and dragging her into my chest and she’s casually stroking my lip like it’s a normal thing to do.

“There,” she murmurs with a self-satisfied little smirk that makes something in my chest do something stupid.

It’s so cute I want to sink my teeth into her lip until she bleeds so I can lick it, and I’m not even into that kind of shit. Seriously. But something about this fucking woman is turning me feral in a way I’m pretty sure is going to get me put on some damn list for crazy, cannibal people.

Is there such a list? If not, there’s about to be because I have a whole scene in my head of tying her across the bed and leaving my teeth marks all over her soft skin.

Is it cannibalism if she orgasms?

I let the thought go before my brain forgets to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Besides, marks aren’t my thing. They’re Daniel’s.

Speaking of the other man, I let my gaze drift away from the tiny bundle of temptation to where my brother stands watching us. Watching her. Eyes hard. Hungry. He’s as aroused as I am, and Mira ... Mira has no fucking idea the cages she’s opening. The creatures she’s setting free. Her sense of self-preservation that most women are supposed to have must be broken because a sane, normal person would recognize the danger they were in.

Mira just smiles at me.

I avert my attention from the other man to find her head tipped back, still standing way too close. Her hand is still on my shoulder, her feet arched.

But something must have finally jingled in that beautiful skull of hers because her grin slips as realization dawns. Her eyes widen with horror as she snatches her hand away.

“I am so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

Inappropriate.

I want to laugh. She thinks that was inappropriate? Oh, this sweet, delicious, little morsel has no fucking idea what inappropriate is.

I snake my tongue out and run it over my lip, tasting her on my skin. Mira goes still. Silent. Eyes fixed on the motion. Her own lips part and I have to resist the urge to dip my head and get a better taste directly from the source.

She must be thinking the same thing because her cheeks have gone a deep crimson and she can’t stop staring at my mouth like it’s all she wants, too.

Such a delicious little tease.

Such a sweet addiction.

Daniel hasn’t intervened.

Doesn’t.

Won’t.

He says nothing when I take his little girl’s delicate wrist and bring her hand to my lips. When I suck her thumb into my mouth. Wrap it in my tongue.

Suck.

Mira whimpers. Loudly. I know my brother hears her. I know he’s rock hard because my cock is a brick in my jeans.

She’s not pulling away. Her pretty eyes are dark pools of desire staring at my mouth. Her thumb caught between my teeth as I lap at the pad with my tongue.

I pull her free with a pop. Kiss the moist digit.

“You better start walking, sweetheart. Unless you’re offering something else for me to lick.”

She hesitates. It’s a split second, but long enough to convey her uncertainty before she quickly moves away from me. The hand she’d used to clean my mouth is clutched at her chest like the skin burns. Between the curled fingers, her nipples are hard, sharp points poking through the fabric of her cotton dress. The mounds rise and fall along the low neckline, and I am too aware of how easy it would be to twist my fingers around the thin straps and drag the useless things down her arms until her tits are on display right there for all to see.

“Get her,” I warn my brother.

Daniel saves her from getting put on display across the hood of his truck. It’s Daniel who hooks an arm around her middle from behind and drags her back into motion.

Mira doesn’t protest as she falls into step with him, leaving me to follow after them with images of her legs around my shoulders while I eat my breakfast straight from her sweet cunt plays across my mind.