They sound angry. Furious.
I drag in another breath, trying to focus. To figure out what’s happening, where the threat went—and where it’s coming from next.
Hands grab me again, and I lash out wildly, punching and kicking.
“Hey, hey! Harlow! It’s me!”
“River…?” I choke out.
I whip my head around, trying to make him out in the darkness. The door to the warehouse opens, and in that flash of light, I see a look of stark fear on his face.
He uses the opportunity to examine me, running his hands up and down my body like he’s checking for bullet holes or stab wounds.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is low and harsh. “This isn’t a fucking game, Harlow. We’re trying to keep you safe, but we can’t be with you every damn second. Why would you sneak out like that?”
“Safe…?”
He’s not making any sense. They’ve been watching me to keep themselves safe, haven’t they? To make sure I didn’t blab to the wrong people. Not because they were worried for me. Not because they thought I might be in danger.
Raised voices come from near the warehouse entrance, and a second later, Lincoln, Dax, and Chase stalk over to join us.
“We lost the fucker,” Dax calls, and he sounds pissed. “He disappeared around the side of the building—probably had a car in another lot nearby.”
“He had a mask on,” Chase adds, and my blood chills in my veins.
“He what?” I croak as River helps me to my feet.
“Yeah.” He shakes his head, his copper hair glinting in the dim moonlight. “He was wearing some kind of mask. Not a ski mask though. More like a party mask, like a mask of someone else’s face.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better. River just got me upright, but my legs threaten to buckle as fear slams into me. He wraps an arm around my waist, securing me flush against him, and I know he can feel my body shaking. I don’t think I’m in shock like I was after seeing Iris get hit, but I am fucking terrified.
Someone attacked me.
Maybe even tried to kill me.
And I don’t know why.
Does whoever it is know what I saw? What I know? But then why didn’t he go after any of the guys? Or did he pick me first because I seemed like the easiest to pick off, the weakest target?
And I was.
Whoever was after me, I gave him the perfect opportunity to jump me, going to a practically abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night.
I don’t know how he found me, but once I went inside that building, all he had to do was wait.
Witnessing Iris’s murder was terrifying and traumatizing, but I guess a part of me always thought that was the end of it. That whoever had done it would vanish back into the ether like the ghost he appeared to be. I thought it was over.
But it’s not.
Another wave of dizziness washes over me, and I dig my fingers into River’s t-shirt, holding on tight. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
He squints at me in the darkness, leaning closer as he stares at my face. Then he nods, his jaw clenching. “I know. We should’ve told you.”
“He tried to—”
“I know.”
One of his arms still holds me securely to his body, but the other reaches up to brush my hair back before sweeping down the side of my face. His knuckles trail over my jawline, and the look on his face makes my heart beat painfully hard. His expression is tender and fierce at the same time, and that’s just what it feels like when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me.
Tender and fierce.
For the moment, it doesn’t seem to matter that a few days ago, he caught me having sex with one of his best friends. It doesn’t matter that he and the others neglected to tell me their entire surveillance of me was for my protection.
It just matters that I’m alive. That he came for me. That they all did.
My hands grasp at his broad shoulders as I kiss him back. It’s as different from kissing Lincoln as night and day, as a thunderstorm and soft summer rain. His lips are exploratory and gentle, and he kisses me like he’s drinking me in, trying to infuse himself with my essence.
His tongue darts out, meeting mine—but a half-second later, Lincoln grabs me by the waist and pulls me away.
“All right. That’s enough.” His voice is steely.
River’s gaze flicks to him, eyes narrowing as his friend speaks. Then he reaches out and gives my wrist a gentle tug, pulling me back toward him. As soon as I’m in his embrace once more, he kisses me again—and this time, although it’s still gentle, there’s nothing tentative about it. He threads his fingers through my hair and tilts my head slightly, allowing him to take the kiss so deep I feel like I’m drowning in it.
I can’t help but think he and Lincoln are working something out between them, communicating through their actions, negotiating for territory or something. River’s kiss, deep and consuming as it is, also seems to be sending a message to Linc that the tall, dark-haired boy doesn’t own me. That he doesn’t get to claim me for his own.
That’s a message I can definitely get behind, so I throw myself into kissing River back, letting the feel of his hands in my hair and his oakmoss scent sooth the fear and adrenaline still coursing through me.
One of the twins—Chase, I think—whistles as our lips finally break apart. River doesn’t release me though, keeping one arm wrapped around me and tucking me into his
