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“Then what happened?” He swallows hard, and I can sense the story is making him angry.

“He came over to my house that night, brought my bodyguard
his favorite beer to keep him quiet as he did most nights, and made his way upstairs to my bedroom. He sat down on the edge of my bed and said, ‘I need to know where your dad is.’ This was obviously a trigger for me. I was raised never to ask where my dad was or to give anyone any information on where I thought he might be. I told
him I didn’t
know. I even laughed a little at his question. It was out of character the way he asked. It was also out of character the way he shoved me down onto my bed and wrapped his hands around my throat and yelled, ‘Tell me where he is, Cali.’ I choked out that I really didn’t
know. Because if I did know, I probably would have told him out of fear. He released
his hands from around my neck and I bounced off the bed and out the door. When I ran downstairs, I saw a box of empty beer bottles,
but my
bodyguard was gone. I had run out the door and down the street
before I realized I had left Krissy home alone with him. I went back for her. But they were both gone.” My chest is heaving in and out, trying to hold down the sobs—the pain from retelling this story.

Tango wraps his arms around me, and the comfort makes the tears start. “Is that when it happened?”

“He knew I was looking for him. He left me a note on her bed, telling me where he was taking her. I think he would have killed both of us that night if he had the opportunity, and I think that was
his plan. I called the police and said someone took my sister. I told them where
the note told me he’d be. But the police were too late. I had already been cornered and Krissy was already dead, and he ran off at the sound of the siren.” I nod my head, reliving the moment. “My mom
told me not to trust anyone. I should have listened.”

“You don’t know what it’s going to take for me to not hunt him
down and murder that son of a bitch, Cali. You did not and do not deserve that.” He pulls me against his body and my head finds the curve between his chest muscles, the place where I can connect with
his
heart. “I understand why you can’t trust me.” His words are
whispered into my ear, and it’s the most comforting thing anyone has ever said to me. Being understood is something I have only wished for.

“I don’t want the emotion of trust to end up in our way. I want you, Tango,” I say, immediately wondering why I’m saying this? I’m
nearly
begging for him, and I sound desperate. Not what I should sound
like right now after spilling my past miseries.

“You don’t have to trust me, Cali, but you can trust that I will
not
let you down. You can trust that I will make you feel things you’ve never felt, because I’m real. We’re real, and that makes all the difference . . .” I can see the corner of his lip curl up slightly. “If you want me, I
will show
you what real feels like.” His words are driving a wild sensation from my heart to the most vulnerable place between my legs. My
body is
responding to his words alone—I want him right now, in the middle
of
these god-forsaken woods, under a rock, covered in sweat, and
placed in the middle of a potential danger zone.

“Make me forget where we are right now. Make me forget what pain feels like.”

“Tell me again that you want me, Cali,” he whispers wantonly.

 “I want you, please.”

“Good,” he whispers. The growl in his voice drives shivers through
my stomach. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against him.
“Because, I want you so fucking bad.” He turns me over so I’m
spooned in the curve of his body. His fingers skate along my skin, leaving a trail of prickles behind. His mouth presses into my neck as his hand wanders down past my shorts, finding my ass and clutching it while
pulling me into his hardness. His fingers explore around to the front, dipping down into my wet shorts and under my panties. He enters me slowly, one finger at first, then another, continuing what he started earlier. This time he doesn’t stop. This time I realize what
those fingers are capable of.

“Still want me?” he asks.

I moan in response. It’s the only type of sound I’m capable of right now. He flips me over on to my back and climbs over me, moving down, down, down until he’s between my legs. He pulls my
shorts and panties off, furiously pushing them down to my ankles. His hands
grip around my thighs and his tongue fills the space his fingers were just occupying. He’s slow at first, then fast, then slow again. Everything inside of me is throbbing, and I’m not sure how much
longer I can last. His groans vibrate through me, causing me to cry his name out. “I’m going to—“

“Not yet,” he says. He climbs back up my body and I pull at his belt, tearing it apart as fast as I can. I kick his shorts and boxers down, reaching my hand around his impressively large size. “Hold on. I’m not done with you yet.” He reaches over to his bag and pulls out a condom.

“I’m on the pill,” I whisper, breathlessly.

He tosses the condom back in his bag and I can feel his smile grow across my neck as he kisses me harder. He lifts his head and gives me a look that makes me think he wants me to beg him not to
stop. And I’ll beg and plead if that’s what it’ll take.

“Please, I need you,” I say, offering him what I think he wants to
hear. It works. He lowers himself inside of me while his hands
continue
to explore every inch of my skin—warming me, comforting me,
making me need more of his touch. More of everything.

“How’s this?” he asks, keeping his movements slow and gentle. I melt into him as he rocks me back and forth, his grip gradually tightening at a pace that’s becoming too slow.

I dig the tips of my fingers into his chest and use my feet to
increase
the momentum. “Harder,” I breathe. His breathing becomes shallow as his thrusts become more intense. Each movement feels like a welcoming rush of warmth inside. The intensity is making my limbs
tingle, tighten, and contort to his.

The buildup is becoming too much. His growls are becoming louder and my breaths are becoming quicker. “I’m close,” I cry. He nuzzles his nose behind my ear, peppering kisses in circles until he reaches my earlobe. He bites down gently, and that’s all it takes. The sensation shoots through me.

“Me too,” he utters. A feeling of overwhelming heat burns from
within and my body succumbs to numbness. My breaths turn to
moans
as he pushes into me harder and faster. My moans become louder
until his mouth suffocates the noise coming from mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it’s nearly erotic.

With a final plunge of warmth, our bodies stop moving, but the
rush continues torturing my insides as an aftershock. Our chests
heave in and out against each other. Our eyes lock in an endless stare.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“Yeah. Wow,” I respond.

“I think we’re kind of good together, Cali. I’ve never—that
hasn’t felt like . . .
that
before.”

“I guess that’s what
real
feels like.” Soft laughter escapes my throat
at the lack of conversation we’re able to have. I’m speechless, I’m helpless, and I’m softening up to him. Trust or no trust, he’s amazing.

TANGO

NOTHING LIKE
the first time. The first time in four years. The first
time with intense emotional feelings, and the first time with that
amount of desire. Holy hell, I might have just become addicted to her—her smell, her taste and her body—it could heal me. I won’t ever come back from that in one piece. And I might be okay with that.

I didn’t think sleep would be possible tonight, but with her by my side, I can actually die a happy man now. She doesn’t give a shit
that I don’t have a real name anymore. She doesn’t give a shit that I’m dead according to everyone who knew me. She knows I might be
dead
within a matter of days or weeks, but she’s accepted it. It’s so clear
how alike we are. I’m broken. She’s broken.

Maybe our two broken souls can fit together and make us whole again.

CALI

I fell asleep within Tango’s arms, feeling as secure as I possibly can here in the middle of nowhere, all while knowing Reaper or whoever could be creeping around any corner. But now I’m awake. It’s still the middle
of the night, and I have to pee. I shimmy out from beneath Tango’s
heavy arm and slide the concealing packs off to the side. I pull myself out of the cave and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, trying to spot a tree to hide behind in case Tango wakes up and comes
looking for
me—I’m not quite ready to pee in front of him yet. I quietly walk to the nearest tree and stand behind it, reaching from the top of my shorts as a weird sensation overwhelms me. My gut is twisting, but I
try to push the feeling away. I can’t help feeling as though I’m being watched, but darkness usually seems to do that to me.

I relieve myself quickly and tug my shorts back up over my hips, but as I turn to head back to the rocks, a hand slaps over my mouth. It smells like sweat and feels grime-covered. I try to scream, but the hand is tightly cupped over my nose as well, prohibiting any sound or air to go in or out. My heart doesn’t know what to do. I think I’m in shock, frozen.

Adrenaline courses through me and I loop my arms around the
back of the person’s neck and squeeze with every bit of strength I have. I nip at the person’s finger since I can’t manage a full bite. But an arm, a familiar arm is wrapped around my stomach, lifting me off my feet. I’m powerless. I flail, I swing and I kick, but it’s all
worthless.

I’m dragged for minutes before I’m slammed against a tree. My
hands are tied around the back, the rough bark scraping against my skin. There’s more than one person. They aren’t in front of me or to the sides of me. They’re behind me, and I can’t twist my neck far enough to see.

“I know it’s fucking you, Reaper,” I seethe through my clenched jaw.

His outline steps out from behind the tree—even in the darkness
I can see those menacing blue eyes. I kissed those perfect lips, and I told that beautiful face I fucking loved it. Now, I’m tied to a goddamn tree while the man I’m falling for—the one who’s broken through my trust barrier and has made me feel something truly
incredible for the first time—is none the wiser.

A light flashes in my face before it moves to illuminate my worst
nightmare. “Hey, baby-doll. Long time no see. I don’t like that you call me Reaper,” he says, tracing a line down my cheek with the tip of his finger. This isn’t what I planned. I planned to have
him
tied up. I
planned to have all the control. “Where’s Daddy now?” His voice is childish, comedic almost.

“I’m calling you what you are, and if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t be tied up.” I spit at his face.

He stands up and throws his head back, releasing a scathing chuckle. “Well, we’re going to find him together. I just hope your new boyfriend doesn’t mind that I’m borrowing you for a little while.”

“He’ll kill you,” is my automatic response.

“And he,“ he points to the man standing beside him, “will kill
you.
” The man looks like a linebacker. He is more muscle than body,
and his face looks too small for his neck. He’s actually kind of gross
to look at. It’s probably all steroids. Neither of them is dressed appropriately for hunting people down in the woods. They’re both
wearing jeans and t-shirts, which don’t look too clean anymore.

I have to outsmart him. I have to manipulate his head, and I’m prepared to do that. I’ve trained myself for this. The opportunity is
here and I will not let it best me or pass me.

Reaper pulls out a phone from his back pocket. He holds it up to
my face and a flash blinds me. “There. Such a pretty picture,” he
squeaks, admiring the photo on his phone. “This can be bait for Daddy. I’m sending him a text message right now.”

He stares at me with an evasive simper for minutes until his phone buzzes. He looks down at the screen and back up at me. “Daddy doesn’t want you, princess.” He lifts the phone up to my face, allowing me to read:

I will not give you my location for any amount of bait. Tell Cali, I’m sorry.

“He’s totally not sorry,” he teases. I know it’s not real. He
doesn’t
have Dad’s number. “I guess it’s true, Cali. No one has ever loved you, not even your sister, Krissy. Wait, was that her name?” His eyes search the sky for an answer he knows. “Yeah, Krissy. She said she
hated you for pulling her down into the trash you dragged yourself into.” He
squats back down again. “And that mom of yours, she would have left you with someone a little more reliable than your dad if she really loved you. Don’t you think?”

The sobs are flooding my throat, threatening to erupt, but I tell myself this isn’t true. It isn’t true. They loved me. I loved them.

I struggle to maintain a straight face. I will not give him that
power again. “You were always one with your words, Reaper.”