Vow of Sacrifice Read online

  The best part, though, is the bench seat.

  My hip is pressed against his. My thigh is pressed against his. And his right arm is draped over my shoulders as he drives with his left hand.

  Callan helped me into his truck then walked around to get in on the driver’s side. He turned to look at me before putting the key in the ignition, grabbed my arm, and tucked me close to his side.

  One of his fingers skims along the space between my neck and shoulder. Goose bumps break out, and I tilt my head, giving his tickling fingers more access to my skin.

  “Where are we going?”

  Callan hasn’t given me any hint about his plans. He only told me to dress nicely.

  “The Brand. Have you been?”

  The Brand is a premier steakhouse in the area. Pierce often took me to steakhouses—sometimes alone, sometimes on business dinners—but we never went to The Brand. Pierce preferred a cityscape view and a place where he’d be seen. The Brand is outside of the city with a view of the hills. There’s no comparison about which I prefer or who I prefer to be with.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Good,” Callan says, squeezing my shoulder.

  Most of the drive is spent in comfortable silence. The sun blazes in the sky, starting to set behind the hills, creating a vibrant mixture of pinks, oranges, and reds. My hands rub together; I wish I had some of my paintbrushes to capture everything about this moment. The setting sun, the hills, the soft leather seats inside a black pickup truck and, most importantly, the rugged and masculine man sitting next to me. Long fingers curved over the steering wheel, a muscular arm wrapped around me. I could paint this scene a thousand times and never capture the warmth and protection I feel in this moment.

  If he asked me to, I’d ride in this truck to the end of the Earth with him, just as long as I could stay glued to his side feeling his warmth and strong arms wrapped around me.

  Callan turns into the parking lot of The Brand and quickly finds a parking spot. His hands grip my hips, helping me down from his truck. The edge of the parking lot has a look-out area for the surrounding hills. Benches surround a gazebo. Callan tugs me toward the area.

  He folds me into his chest, my arms wrap around his back, and he holds me tightly to him. I turn my eyes away from the sun to find him staring at me.

  “Are you going to kiss me now?”

  “Don’t think I can wait anymore.”

  One of his large, warm hands coasts up my back and weaves into my hair. I slide my hands from his back to his front, grazing over every rippling muscle beneath his shirt. My hands stop on his chest.

  His turquoise eyes are sparkling like the sea under the high sun. My breath catches as I watch them heat as he begins to descend.

  “Birdie.” His husky whisper makes my thighs clench. A feeling I haven’t had since before I knew how monstrous Pierce really was.

  Callan’s full lips finally, finally land on my mine. His tongue sweeps along the seam of my mouth, demanding entrance. I open immediately and whimper at the first crash of our tongues.

  A deep, guttural rumble bursts from Callan’s chest as he pulls me impossibly closer. I’m surrounded by him. Encased in his arms. Infiltrated with his taste. Consumed by his cologne. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

  My fingers find their way into his thick hair. He uses the hand fisted in my hair to hold me still as his tongue continues to plunder my mouth, taking everything I’m giving him. Everything I am.

  Callan breaks the kiss. My chest is heaving from my panting breaths.

  “Fuck.”

  “Pancakes.”

  Callan chuckles, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. He grabs my hand and we stride to the door. We’re grinning like a couple of high schoolers who just made out underneath the bleachers.

  We’re seated by a large floor-to-ceiling window. Now that the sun has completely set, the lighting in the restaurant is romantic and atmospheric. There are candles at every table and dim lights in the chandeliers hanging above.

  The fire in Callan’s eyes hasn’t dimmed in the slightest. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me, even when the waiter came by for our drink order and when he dropped it off.

  I take a sip from my glass of wine as Callan speaks. “Why breakfast foods?”

  I snort and clap a hand over my mouth and nose. The wine almost spews from my mouth before I manage to swallow. I start chuckling. “When I was four or five, my grandmother took me to a park to play. I was on this wooden fort, waiting my turn to go down the slide. I was looking around at everything carved into the wood when a word jumped out at me. I read it, confused. My turn came up, so down the slide I went. I ran over to my grandma and told her ‘someone spelled duck wrong. It says fuck.’”

  Callan’s broad chest shakes with laughter. I sit up straighter, pleased I made him laugh. “What’d she say?”

  A fondness so deep and intricate spreads through me as I think about Grams. “She explained that word is actually a bad word and I shouldn’t say it. I asked why and her response was ‘young ladies never cuss.’ She told me to replace it with something else. Breakfast foods just stuck. When I was older and started to let a few slip here and there, she always repeated herself—but with a little more flair—‘young ladies never fuckin’ cuss, only old ladies.’ Funny thing is, my grandma cussed all the time as I got older, but never wanted me to. It’s just so ingrained to say breakfast foods instead.”

  Callan’s smile is wide and charming. “You’re too cute. I can imagine a young you—skinny, all limbs, a wild mane of dark hair, and gorgeous eyes—telling your Grams someone spelled duck wrong.”

  I chuckle and take another sip of my red wine.

  “Do you still see your grandma a lot?”

  My heart splinters and I feel my face fall. The smile on Callan’s face disappears, and his brow furrows. “She passed shortly after my high school graduation.”

  “Birdie,” Callan whispers, sliding his hand across the table and linking his fingers with mine. “I’m sorry.”

  I bite my lip and sniff to keep the threatening tears at bay. “Thank you. It was hard. She raised me and was really the only family I had.”

  His thumb sweeps over my knuckles. “I’m sorry. Was your Grams friends with Carmen?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek before the sting of tears can even start. Callan’s face falls again. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

  I give him the best smile I can manage and shake my head. “No, I want you to know this. I want you to know me. Carmen never met Grams. I met Carmen the night I ran away from Pierce. I planned everything perfectly. New bank account in just my name, some cash I was able to squirrel away, ditched my phone so he couldn’t track me. I escaped, my plan went perfectly until I had nowhere to go. I knew he’d find me if I used my name at a hotel.”

  “Escaped?” Callan rasped.

  I sucked in a breath, realizing everything I just spilled. “He abused me.”

  “Iris,” he whispered, squeezing my hand. I shake my head and hope he understands I can’t go too deep right now. He seems to understand but doesn’t like it. His Adam’s apple bobs with his thick swallows as he stares at me and holds back his questions.

  “I sat in the rain on a bus bench and cried. I cried until someone noticed and sat next to me. Carmen wouldn’t take no for an answer when she invited me home. She helped me file for divorce the next day.”

  “I don’t know everything about your past, birdie, but I do something about your future. For the rest of your life, no matter what we are, I will protect you. I’ll tear apart Heaven and Hell to keep you safe.”

  “If I know one think about you, Foxy,” I say, using his nickname to try to lighten the mood. “It’s that you’ll protect anyone you care about.”

  “You and Brae are on top of that list.”

  I squeeze his hand, overwhelmed by the emotions coming to life inside of my heart. The rest of the meal is lighter, and no more tears threaten to fall. Callan doesn’t le
t go of my hand until our food is served, and he picks it back up as soon as we’re both finished.

  He slides me across his bench seat, tucking me against his side again for our drive home. I lean my head on his chest and watch the streetlights pass us by.

  Callan holds my hand as we walk up the steps to our apartment. With each step, our feet are moving more slowly. I’m not ready to take this any further, but I also don’t want the night to end. It’s been more than I ever could’ve imagined.

  Our feet crest the top step. I dig into my purse with my free hand as Callan guides us to the door. “What’s this?”

  I look up. Callan is ripping a manila envelope off my front door. There’s no name or address. He hands it to me. I open it and slide out a picture.

  A scream tears up my throat.

  Chapter 20

  Callan

  A photo flitters to the ground, landing face down on the cement. Iris’s hands are wrapped around her throat, and her eyes are darting all over the place. She’s whispering words that I can’t make out and on the verge of hyperventilating.

  I step closer to her, leaving the picture on the ground. She flinches, and a small yelp escapes her lips when my hands land on her shoulders. “Iris. What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head faster. “I have to go. I have to. I have to. I have to, I don’t know! I have to get out of here.”

  A single tear escapes her eye before she bows her head, tearing through her purse. Her anxiety is coming off of her in waves. Her entire body is trembling as she keeps reaching through her purse. “Where are my keys?” Her voice is getting higher with each word out of her mouth.

  “Iris, talk to me.” I try to place my hand on her again, but she moves away as my hand was a brand. She hisses and more tears flow down her cheeks. Watching her like this feels like a punch straight to my sternum.

  I crouch down to pick up the photo and turn it over. The punch to my sternum becomes a stab straight to the heart.

  What the fuck?

  The blood pumping through my veins turns to ice, and my heart stops beating. The air around me is frozen. Rage, panic, anger, and utter madness is whipping through me like lightning and roaring through my veins like a tornado ready to take out everything in its path.

  It’s a picture of us.

  From tonight.

  From fucking tonight. Our damn perfect moment. Whoever sent this, I will rip them limb from limb for causing Iris to even feel an ounce of fear.

  It’s a picture of us kissing, but my face is scratched out. Dark red ink is smeared across the picture as if the words were written hastily and then shoved into the envelope before it dried. White-hot fury blasts through me as I read the words over and over.

  Remember who you belong to.

  Iris’s jangling keys grab my attention. I stand, clutching her wrist. Iris jumps and cowers, covering her head with her arms.

  Dammit. I will not let this taint our first night, the beginning of something big between us.

  “You’re coming to my place. No way in fuck you’re walking in there. I meant it, Iris, I will keep you safe. I swear it, birdie.” I brush her hair back from her face. She nods and hugs me tightly. I disconnect from her arms and kiss her cheek. “Let’s go into my apartment.”

  Iris keeps her head down, even when Carmen’s door opens and Arnie stands in the doorway. Carmen stands behind him with her hand on his shoulder. They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. I shake my head when Carmen steps forward.

  Take care of her, Carmen mouths.

  I nod and tighten my hold around the girl in my arms. I lead Iris to my door, unlocking it in record time, never letting go of her. I push her through the door and close it behind us. I’m thankful Brae is staying at a friend’s house tonight.

  I take my phone from my pocket and scroll until I find the right name, jab my thumb against the screen, and lift it to my ear.

  “Who are you calling?” I can barely hear Iris’s shaking voice.

  “Maddox. Hudson’s brother. He’s with APD.”

  “No!” Iris launches herself toward me and tries to grab the phone.

  I hang up. “What was that?”

  “No cops,” she pleads, tears leaking out of her eyes. “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “I tried. I tried so many times to go to them. They did nothing. He has them in his pocket. He has them. They did nothing. Only told him what I tried to do. You don’t know who he is or what he’s capable of. It’ll only be worse if he knows I called the police, especially if it’s someone who is actually decent. I can’t drag Hudson’s family into this. I’ve already exposed you, I can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Birdie. I was going to give you time to open up about your past, not anymore. I need to know. Now.”

  She slowly nods. Her entire body is trembling. I put my phone back in my pocket; I’ll call Maddox after she tells me the story. I wrap her in my arms, holding her to my chest, and kiss the top of her head.

  “I’ll keep you safe.” My words are a vow. I’ll do anything to keep the gorgeous girl in my arms protected. “You’re staying the night.”

  Iris tenses and takes a step away from me, crossing her arms over her stomach. She turns away and looks down. “I’m not ready for that.”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch, birdie.”

  “Oh.”

  “After you tell me everything.”

  I lead Iris to the couch and pull her down on top of me. I band my arms around her, holding her tightly. She keeps her eyes aimed at my chest, running a finger along the exposed skin at my throat. Even that slightest touch makes my cock harden.

  “Iris.”

  She inhales deeply but doesn’t meet my eyes. Her rogue finger keeps tracing along my neck and pops a button to expose an inch of my chest. I hold in a groan.

  “Iris,” I say again.

  Finally, her hazel eyes meet mine. They’re shiny with unshed tears and filled with terror and sadness. I hug her even closer, laying a kiss on her forehead. My hand skims down her bare leg to the sexy shoes on her feet. I slip them off one by one, trying to help her get more comfortable.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Iris whispers. “I’ve never really told anyone before. I’ve never had anyone to tell.”

  “Carmen?” I ask.

  She shrugs and shakes her head, staring at her lap. “Except her, but I didn’t tell her everything, besides she took one look at me and knew.”

  I kiss her temple and take one of her hands in my mine, squeezing it. “When people care about you, they don’t care if you make them worry. It’s worse when they’re in the dark. Don’t keep it from me. Let me in.”

  Her hand squeezes mine back as a tear drips off the end of her nose.

  “Is this your ex?” I already know the answer. Who else would scratch off the face of a man besides an ex-lover? The way she flinches and the terror that crosses her features from time to time make me think I know where this is going, but I need to hear it. I need to hear all of it.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I thought it was done.”

  Her eyes meet mine. I cup the side of her face, brushing the tears from her cheek. “Thought what was done, sweetheart?”

  “Pierce. I thought he was leaving me alone.”

  The muscles in my neck bunch together, and my fingers at her hip dig into her flesh. “He’s been bugging you since your divorce?”

  Iris shrugs.

  “Birdie. Talk to me. Start at the beginning.”

  She’s silent for a long moment. So long I almost think she’s not going to speak and that I’ll have to pry every word from her lips, begging for each morsel of information. But I don’t have to. She starts at the beginning.

  “My grandparents raised me. Poppy died when I was really young, so really it was just my grandma. My mom was more interested in drugs and partying than raising an infant, so my grandma got custody of me, and I’ve seen my mom a handful of times.”

  My chest tear
s open listening to her words. The first time I saw Iris, I never thought we would have something like that in common. Both of our mothers are wastes of space. I’m thankful she had grandparents to look after her instead of being carted off into the system.

  “My mom was more interested in drugs than me or Brae,” I reply. Her eyes widen and her gaze shoots to mine as she sucks in a shaky breath.

  “I don’t know who my dad is. I don’t want to know. If he’s anything like my mom, it’s not worth knowing. My grandma was the best.”

  A ghost of a smile forms on my lips, matching the one on hers. As her smile falls, so does mine.

  “She was diagnosed with lung cancer when I was fourteen. She’d never smoked a day in her life. She fought for so long and she fought so hard.”

  Iris’s voice breaks on the last few words, and my heart cracks hearing the pain in her voice. My mind searches for ways to soothe her. I want to take her pain and carry it for her. I’d carry every burden and hardship as my own if she could live an easy life.

  “She died shortly after my high school graduation. I was still living in our trailer and working as hard as I could to keep myself in that place. School wasn’t even a thought in my mind, that was just a pipe dream. I was working as a waitress for a catering company when I met him.”

  Him.

  Pierce. I already hate him and have a deep, scorching urge to wrap my hands around his throat. My gut says that need will only get worse.

  Iris frowns as she plays with a button on my shirt.

  “Was he working with you?”

  “No. He was a guest. Some drunk guy tried to get handsy with me, and Pierce stepped in, saving me.”

  Iris rubs her forehead. “I was so stupid. I thought he was a white knight. I kept thinking that when he took me home. I kept thinking that when he showed up the next day with flowers. And the day after that with dinner. He kept coming by. He promised he would take care of me.”

  Iris’s chin wobbles and her eyes meet mine, pleading with me. “You have to understand. I was so lost and broken from losing Grams. I wanted someone, I needed someone. I know now that I don’t need someone to take care of me, but I snapped up his offer.” A sob breaks from her chest. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”