Page 66 of Luke (West Bend Saints 3)

  An hour later, it was dark and I was seething, my thoughts still churning. How the hell could Silas be so irresponsible with his life? He was putting himself in danger and then trying to act responsible with me, as if we were going to get a white picket house and be together forever. I regretted all of the thoughts that had been going through my head lately, the ones about how I could be with Silas, how we could settle down and live a normal fucking life.

  Fantasies about how I could give up grifting and just be with him.

  Then he did something that demonstrated he was simply impulsive, a Neanderthal at heart. And he’d recoiled when I said I had money, as if it had been tainted or something.

  When I heard a knock on the door, I stormed over and pulled it open, ready to lay into Silas. “What, did you forget your key?”

  But it wasn’t Silas standing at the door. It was Iver. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

  I glared at him. “You tracked me down?”

  “We need you, darling,” he said. “And you missed the meet in New York City. I wasn’t about to let you slip into the ether without knowing if you were alive or if Coker had gotten to you.”

  “Coker’s an even bigger moron than we thought,” I said, momentarily forgetting about how angry I was with Silas. “He doesn’t realize anything yet.”

  Iver shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes it really is like taking candy from a baby, isn’t it?”

  “How did you find me here?” I asked.

  Iver raised his eyebrows. “Do you even need to ask? Emir knows all.”

  I exhaled heavily. “Of course he does,” I said.

  “So?” Iver asked. “Are you staying here in the middle of nowhere, or are you going to rejoin us in the land of the living?”

  I stood there, paralyzed by indecision. I had a team - friends - waiting for me in New York. And someone who meant something to me here. Someone who claimed to be sure of what he wanted, but acted in ways totally opposite of that.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  SILAS

  When I returned to the apartment, it was dark and the lights were out. I’d gone out running, five miles, and I was sticky with sweat. I flicked on the light in the hall, and called out for Tempest, even though I knew before I walked in the door that she was gone. Her bike wasn’t parked in its spot in the driveway, and I’d have tried to convince myself that she was just out, taking her own time, except that her backpack and clothes weren’t where they’d been in my room.

  I stood in the bedroom, drenched with sweat, exhausted and spent, surveying my surroundings. It was like she’d never been here.

  I felt numb. This whole fucking day, from start to finish, had been like a giant ball of fucked-up-ness, ending with our stupid argument.

  I was being an idiot. That whole time I was out running, I was thinking, I was being an idiot. That fight I’d done for Abel was supposed to be a one-time thing, just because it was Abel- and it had gotten me out of my debt, made sure Big Harry didn’t break my fucking legs. It was the last money I’d owed. I’d gotten arrogant, stupid, thinking I would just go make another quick ten grand doing one more fight.

  I wanted something to show Tempest that I had something. That I wasn’t some losing bet. I wanted her to take a chance on us.

  I didn’t want to come to her with nothing and ask her to be with me. And nothing was exactly what I had.

  I had that damn ring, the stupid one I’d bought when I was seventeen, still sitting in my dresser. I’d thought it was so romantic back then, getting her this ring made with a stone named after her – the tempest stone.

  She was used to nice things, things like she had in Vegas, and I had nothing like that. Even the damn ring I was going to give her was as cheap as I was.

  I was here, alone, thinking about all of these things.

  But mostly, I was pissed off that she didn’t say goodbye.

  Again.

  ***

  TEMPEST

  “Why the hell did you insist we have dinner?” I asked Iver. I was irritated with Silas for his recklessness, irritated with myself for fighting with him, and irritated with Iver for showing up here. I could barely contain my rage, and now I was sitting here across from Iver, at this small restaurant on the outskirts of town.

  “Humor me. I drove here from the airport into the middle of Nowheresville, Colorado to rescue you from this town. I haven’t had lunch, and now it’s well past dinner and I’m starving,” Iver said, looking up at the waitress who arrived. “I don’t suppose you have a wine list, do you, darling?”

  She put her hand on her hip, raised her eyebrows and gave Iver a look that could have peeled paint off a wall. “I don’t have a wine list, sweet cheeks,” she said.

  Iver looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “What did I say?” he asked.

  “I think it was the darling that pushed you over the edge,” I said.

  He picked up his menu. “Have I lost all my charm?” he asked. “Is this place some kind of alternate reality where I have no effect on women?”

  “Say it’s not so,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I have two tickets out of Denver,” he said. “To New York.”

  “Do we have a mark?”

  “Oscar has some possibilities, but nothing that’s especially struck our fancy,” he said. “But…You don’t get your ticket until I hear about the man who’s the reason for you missing the meet.”

  I shook my head. “Iver, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said wearily. “It’s - I don’t even know what it is. It’s done, I think. I’m not sure.”

  Iver leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me everything,” he said. “I’m not leaving.”

  So I told him the entire story- the history of Silas and me from the beginning to end. The whole time, Iver ate steak and I nibbled at the edge of my plate, my stomach churning. They did serve wine, and Iver ordered a glass of the house red wine, grimacing and declaring it unpalatable as soon as it hit his lips.

  When I finished, Iver leaned back in his chair and looked at me carefully. “Well, it’s settled.”

  “What’s settled?” I felt exhausted, the toll of the entire emotional day finally getting to me.

  “What should be done.” Iver wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling cranky. “I’m not taking love advice from the man who never spends more than one night with a woman.”

  “I wasn’t talking about your love life,” he said. “I was talking about the town. I’ve decided what needs to be done about that.”

  “No, no, no,” I said, holding up my hand. “You’re not bringing Oscar and Emir here.”

  “Of course I am, darling,” he said, leaning in close, his voice low. “And we’ll just have to grift the town.”

  I shook my head. “Been there, done that,” I said. “Besides, it’s not the town that’s the problem.”

  Iver waved his hand. “I know that,” he said. “But grifting the town sounds considerably more dramatic than grifting the sheriff and the mayor and the mining company. Stop trying to deny me my fun.”

  “Perfect idea,” I said, sipping my coffee. “Especially since you’ve been seen in public with me now.”

  Iver shrugged. “I’m behind the scenes this time, then,” he said. “Or you are. Either one. Details to be worked out later.”

  “I’m not on board with it, Iver.”

  “Well, then make up with your boyfriend and get on board,” Iver said. “I don’t find the concept of monogamy to be that appealing, but you’re clearly smitten with him.”

  “I’m not smitten with him,” I protested weakly. But I was. I knew I was.

  “Do I personally think you should retire from the game? No,” Iver said.

  “I didn’t say I was retiring,” I said. “Don’t even breathe that word.”

  But Iver held up his hand again.

“Let me finish, darling,” he said. “You will only ever hear me utter these words one time, and if you ever tell anyone I spoke them, I’ll deny everything.”

  “This I have to hear,” I said.

  “I was in love once,” he said, and when I opened my mouth to talk, Iver shushed me. “I was married. Don’t look at me like it’s the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard. It was a long time ago. She died. We were only together for a year before she passed, and that year was the happiest I’ve ever been, even though the last six months of it involved being by her bedside in a hospital and watching her waste away into nothing, literally a skeleton of who she was. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.”

  “Iver, I-”

  “Hush, darling,” he said. “I’m imparting my wisdom right now. It’s rare, finding someone who understands you. And it’s even rarer when it comes to people like you and me. Someone who can cut through all the bullshit, who sees you despite all the masks you wear? It’s impossible. When you find that, you hang onto it. It doesn’t matter if it’s for a moment, or if it’s for a lifetime.”

  “I don’t know if I can, Iver,” I said. “What if there’s nothing there, underneath it all?”

  “Everyone’s afraid, darling,” he said. “And we all feel like frauds. And everyone wears masks- grifters just happen to wear them more visibly than others. Silas sees you for who you are, and that’s something.”

  “I’m terrified,” I said.

  “Good,” Iver said. He sipped his coffee, and then grimaced. “That’s how you know it’s love, by the way. Because it scares the hell out of you.”

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  SILAS

  I sat in the armchair, dozing even though it wasn’t that late. The knock on the front door nearly made me jump out of my skin.

  When I pulled it open, Tempest spoke before I could.

  “I don’t want you being in a goddamned fight,” she said. “Because I don’t want to lose you, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay, like you’re acknowledging that you’re hearing what I’m saying, or okay you agree?”

  “Okay, like I understand I was being an idiot for being reckless,” I said. “And that I was being a jackass earlier, walking out in the middle of a fight. And, fucking hell, for fighting with you, too.”

  “Both of us were being stupid,” she said. “I’m not used to any of this, you know. I’m not used to being with anyone. It’s only ever been you. There was no one after you.”

  “No one that meant as much,” I said.

  “That too,” she said. “But, no, I mean, completely literally, there has never been anyone else but you. Not a hookup, not a date.”

  Seven years and she hadn’t been with anyone but me? This girl, who had to have men throwing themselves at her right and left, who was so beautiful I could hardly think straight? Shit, she’d been at the hotel with that guy from her grifter team, the one who looked like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, and I’d wanted to punch him in the fucking face immediately upon seeing him, because I thought they were together. This girl hadn’t been with anyone but me. It was ridiculous.

  I’d have laughed out loud, except she seemed so damn earnest about it.

  “Say something, Silas,” she said. “I tell you something goddamn personal and you’re staring at me like I have two heads. My hands are shaking.”

  I didn’t speak. I stepped forward, my hand at the base of her head, and pulled her toward me. I kissed her, my mouth enveloping hers, wanting nothing more than all of her. There was nothing I could fucking say right now. I had no words.

  What I wanted to say was just too much.

  So I picked her up and carried her inside, walking straight to the bedroom, where I set her down in front of me. I didn’t say anything as I peeled off her clothing and she stood completely naked in front of me. I didn’t say anything as I stripped off my clothing and stood naked in front of her.

  And I didn’t say anything as I began to apply kisses down her neck, over her breasts, down her stomach, or as I knelt between her legs and covered her pussy with my mouth. I tasted her on my tongue, but all of my senses drank her in as she came on me, clinging to my head and pulling my face into her.

  I barely stopped to let her catch her breath before I picked her up in my arms, even though the bed was only a few feet away, and carried her to the bed, laying her gently down.

  “Silas,” she whispered, finally breaking the stillness between us. “I need you.”

  I need you.

  She could have been talking about sex or more than that, I didn’t care. Arching against me as I kissed her, she moaned softly into my mouth when I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance. I paused for a minute, savoring the sensation of her wetness on bare skin, before I plunged myself into her willing pussy.

  This time, I made love to her with long, slow thrusts, listening to her shallow breaths, the way she whimpered as she became more aroused. I kissed her neck, just under her earlobe, the place that gave her goose bumps and made her moan with need.

  “You are so damn wet,” I whispered.

  “That’s what you do to me,” she moaned, arching against me, her hands on my waist, pulling me into her harder.

  “Is this what you want?” I asked as I drove into her so deeply I could swear I was going to drive through her.

  “Oh God, Silas.” Her voice was hoarse, her breath ragged. “Harder, yes.”

  I thrust into her again and again, deeper with each stroke. “You are so swollen,” I said. “So tight.”

  She cried out my name again. “I’m so close,” she gasped. “You’re going to make me come.”

  I leaned down, cupping one of her breasts in my hand and drawing it to my mouth, sucking on her erect nipple and grazing it with my teeth.

  “Shit, Silas,” she said. “Make me come. Please.”

  I could barely hold out. I kissed her hard, driving into her again and again. “Do you want me to come in you?”

  “Shit.” Her breath was ragged, and she looked at me, her mouth open. Panting. It was the panting that was going to do me in.

  “Tell me how much you want it,” I said.

  “Silas,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, baby,” I could barely think about anything except how much I wanted to come inside her. “Tell me.”

  She moaned. “I love you Silas.”

  Those three words.

  I thrust inside her one last time, letting go.

  ***

  TEMPEST

  I looked up at Silas, from where I lay with my head pressed up against his chest and he looked down at me. “Do you remember what you said, or was it just one of those things you say when you’re about to come?” he asked. “Like calling out the wrong name?”

  I laughed, pulling myself up to sit beside him, my hand tracing its way lazily around his chest. “Does that happen to you a lot?” I asked. “Calling out the wrong name during sex?”

  Silas grinned. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “I’m a one woman kind of guy. I know where I belong.” He traced his finger over my shoulder, across the outline of my tattoo. “Kind of like that swallow on your shoulder. You got that bit about the sailors right, you know. Sailors did wear them to show how far they’d traveled. But they were also for good luck - to guide them back to where they belonged.”

  I smiled. “I didn’t know that part,” I said. “But yeah, I