Surrender A Section 8 Novel - By Stephanie Tyler Page 0,15
tissue tended to be tougher. Dare wasn’t so sure of that, but he wanted to believe it.
The bayou reminded him of the jungle: hot and noisy and teeming with danger and beauty—just depended on your perspective. Nothing had changed—hurricanes might try to decimate this place, but it always came back.
Bayou living wasn’t for everyone. It tended to be rough, sometimes bordering on unpleasant and downright cruel, but some of his best memories were of this house, the surrounding swamps . . . he’d bet he’d find the same pirogues floating around the dock if he took a stroll that way.
So he was back here, but he wasn’t back yet, not fully. His mind was still in that jungle, his soul locked away and his heart, ice. Adele had chipped at it, Avery had broken through, but that was where it had ended.
“I always wanted a big brother,” she’d told him on one of their first of many days spent traveling cross-country in an attempt to throw anyone and everyone off their trail.
“Now you’ve got one. A little late—”
“Never. Never too late,” Avery told him. She’d ordered room service—cookies and hot chocolate for her and coffee for him, since he wanted to be boring, she’d said, and they’d sat and talked. Planned. Watched TV. Two months of that and he’d almost felt human again.
Damn, it had been nice. She was smart, like Darius. He trusted her more easily and completely than he’d ever trusted anyone, even his father. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be when family was involved.
But now the plans were set in motion, and there was no more relaxing. They both had their jobs.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Avery. Right on time. “You okay?”
“Like you don’t know?” she asked with that hint of laughter in her voice that hadn’t failed to make him smile yet.
Of course he’d watched her go into Gunner’s. He’d never let her take that on alone, no matter her insistence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Thanks for trusting me to get to him on my own,” she said.
“I needed to see how you handle yourself when I’m not around,” he explained. “I didn’t mean to throw you to the wolves.”
“I took care of the wolves.”
“You damned well did. How’s Gunner?”
“Not happy.”
“He’s never happy—get used to it.”
“I had to promise him a tattoo.”
“That better be all he made you promise,” he muttered. But once she stepped inside his shop, Dare knew she was under Gunner’s protection, whether Avery knew it or not.
Gunner was so good, she wouldn’t.
Avery was safe with Gunner, although Dare had no idea how safe that really was. Gunner was out of the business, but there were a lot of people looking to recruit him against his will and an equal number who wanted him dead.
Gunner was in his early thirties, had come by his rep by the time he’d turned eighteen, solidified it in the Navy and got to legendary status during his first year in black ops.
He worked for no one but himself, which was always a risky proposition, but Gunner would never hook up with a group.
He’d been too much of a loner for the teams—no matter how many times they’d tried to recruit him. He’d known his limits, in love and fighting, but no woman ever believed him, which was why he’d married three times. Four, if Dare believed the rumors.
No matter—Avery wouldn’t be his next ex-wife. Dare would kill the guy first.
But that was business of an entirely different order, and Dare had more than his share to handle under this roof tonight.
“Is everything okay on your end?” she asked, changing the subject deftly.
“Darius left nothing on her beyond her address.”
“Is she okay?”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
“I know,” she told him. “You’re not like that.”
He wanted to tell her that she didn’t know him well enough if she could make a statement like that, but he didn’t want to ruin her perception of him. Not yet. And maybe it was because she was so open with him, because her life depended on him, literally, but being her protector didn’t feel like the burden he’d thought it would.
She believed in him in a way that made him want to believe in himself.
“Has she said anything yet?” Avery asked now.
“I haven’t started talking to her yet.”
“Do you want me there?”
That might be the best thing. Easier for him, for sure. “You’re better served where you are. Check in tomorrow.”