Point of Surrender Page 15

  Her knees fell to her side and her back was against the cement wall behind a Dumpster. Piper’s head lolled to her shoulder and her breath came in quick, short gasps.

  Her hands covered her stomach and her eyes were closed, tightened from pain.

  “Piper,” I snapped, crouching down in front of her. “What the fuck happened?”

  Her head moved slightly. The barely-there lights cast a pale glow over her ghastly skin and I immediately gritted my teeth together.

  Bruises marred her cheek. One of her eyes was so beaten it was already swollen shut.

  “Finn,” she moaned and flinched. “Hurts.”

  My hands immediately went to her stomach to move her and then I froze.

  I lifted my hands and looked down at her ripped black shirt.

  Blood oozed on my fingers and I breathed in the acidic smell.

  “Holy fuck,” I muttered and my hands went back to her abdomen. Lifting her shirt, I cringed when I saw slashes across her stomach.

  Blood dripped down until it disappeared under her short black skirt.

  Diego was fucking sick. She was too pregnant to be trading tricks and selling smack on the street.

  Rage poured from me as I bent over Piper and picked her up.

  “Hold on, babe,” I whispered as she moaned in pain. “We’ll get you help.”

  I no longer gave a shit. Diego had gone way too fuckin’ far and I’d played it Piper’s way for far too long.

  My foot slipped on wetness and I looked down only to see she’d been lying in a pool of blood.

  All of my blood rushed from my face as I looked down, felt the wetness under her skirt. My skin heated and tingled even as my worst fear slowly came to realization.

  “Piper?” I asked, even as I started walking down the alley.

  She opened her good eye, and it was glazed when she looked at me, recognition of who had her in her eye. “Finn. The baby. So sorry.”

  Fuck. No. “No. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

  But it was all a lie, and I knew it.

  My legs ached by the time we hit the Emergency Room doors of the seediest hospital. And then Piper was taken from me.

  I blinked…stared at the gurney pulling her away from me, and it took me a moment before I was running after her. My shouts filled the hallway, hands tried to restrain me, but then I was standing over Piper, blood all over her gown, and her skin turned white as a blue sheet was raised just past her hips.

  I couldn’t see anything.

  I could only hear her breath before it stuttered and stopped.

  An ear-piercing shriek blared through the air before the doctors turned away, carrying my child, and I followed, my feet heavy and slow.

  Blood pooled around me, rising to my ankles and I pushed through it.

  Voices were muffled around me.

  Warning me.

  Explaining, but I couldn’t hear them.

  I had one goal in mind, one place I was searching for through the hospital’s maze of endless corridors, before my hands pressed against cool glass.

  His face was obscured by wires and masks and tubes.

  His body was uncovered but barely visible underneath the tapes and tubes.

  Another beep.

  Another round of flurry as people rushed to him.

  Another thick silence and then I was drowning in the blood at my feet.

  And I fell to my knees.

  Ruined. Completely destroyed.

  I had made promises and failed.

  The grief weighed me down as my head sank to my hands.

  Pain ripped from my throat, knowing I had failed them both—my girl and my boy.

  They were dead because I wasn’t the man I needed to be, but cold metal filled my hand, and I instantly knew what I was supposed to do.

  It wouldn’t fix anything.

  It wouldn’t fix me.

  But Diego needed to die.

  I smiled.

  Lifted the gun.

  Aimed.

  Fired.

  17 Meg

  My tired and scratchy eyes watched as Finn thrashed under the covers. His head whipped back and forth and his fists dug into the sheets, fisting them.

  His grunts were indecipherable.

  His pain was palpable.

  I had seen enough of this over the last three nights while Finn moaned and groaned, sometimes screamed out in pain or in anger. I wasn’t sleeping, yet I couldn’t tear myself away from him either.

  And while I knew better than to touch him, to wake someone in the throes of a nightmare, I stayed close. He seemed to settle when he’d finally jolt himself awake and look around the room frantically, and then his chest would heave when he saw me.

  “Meg.” He would sigh. Then I allowed him to pull me down to the mattress, his arms wrapped around me, his hands locked together, making my unwanted escape impossible, and he’d go back to sleep.

  I stayed awake for hours the first night. Slightly less the second.

  And now on the fourth night, I was simply exhausted. He wouldn’t talk to me, refused to tell me what they were about—and even though our nights were spent together tangled in the mattresses and in muffled screams as our frantic lovemaking brought us to heights I’d never imagined, Finn was keeping me locked out of what was troubling him.

  I was tired of it. My entire body ached with exhaustion and I’d been snapping at Brayden more than I ever had in my life. Something had to change.

  Kneeling on the bed, my hands on my thighs even though I wanted to stroke his hair and his arm, I called his name.

  “Finn…”

  Nothing. I wasn’t surprised. It never seemed to help.

  “Finn! Wake up!”

  Finn muttered, whipped his head from side to side. He shot up in bed, his back straight as a rod, sweat lining his forehead and running down his cheeks.

  “Hey,” I said softly.

  A knock hit the door, a forceful sound, and Finn jumped off the bed, his nostrils flared and his hands balled into tightly clenched fists.

  “It’s fine,” I said calmly and crawled off the bed. “It’s probably just Johnny.”

  His eyes darted around the room until they met mine. “Meg.”

  God. His voice was hoarse and dry. His body was coiled tight. I ached for the pain this man was going through—wanted to soothe him in some way, yet had no idea where to begin.

  The knock repeated on the bedroom door and I heard Johnny’s voice. “Finn? Meg?”

  “I’ll get it,” I told Finn and took the few steps to the door.

  I opened it and waved Johnny in. He’d shown up a few days ago. Hadn’t made much noise, just ate a lot. His smiles were quick and easy and I could tell by the way he smirked at me as soon as he saw me that he liked the ladies.

  I had no doubt ladies liked Johnny. Long, tall, and lean with ink all over his arms. His jet-black hair fell into his eyes, but it was his baby blues that knew women checked him out—twice—when he walked by. Plus, he was young. He also seemed a bit too naïve to be a biker. Finn had told me that when he and his twin were together, they were worthless.

  So far, on his own, Johnny seemed decent and smart.

  “You okay?” His eyes met mine and radiated concern.

  “Yeah.” I brushed my hair off my shoulder and looked back toward Finn. “He had another nightmare, I think.”

  “Brother?” Johnny asked and walked right in like it was his room. Like I wasn’t dressed only in Finn’s T-shirt that hit me mid-thigh sans underwear. My cheeks instantly heated and I tugged on the hem of the shirt. “You all right? Never known you to be like this.”

  “I’m good,” Finn croaked. His hands scrubbed his cheeks and he shook his head rapidly as if trying to remove the memories and the thoughts. “Just fine.”

  Johnny took him in, and I knew what he saw: messed up hair, wild eyes, and heaving chest. He was only in boxers, and it didn’t occur to me to be embarrassed about the fact that Finn and I were clearly shacking up until J
ohnny turned his attention on me.

  His eyes dropped to my legs.

  I shifted on my feet, tugged on my shirt. “Thanks for checking on us.”

  Johnny smirked. “Not a problem at all, trust me.”

  “Want to keep those eyes in your head, I suggest you keep your eyes off her fucking legs, J.”

  My head whipped toward Finn. He stood in the same spot but his eyes were clearing. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked defensive. Ready to brawl.

  My legs quivered.

  God, even pissed off, he was so damn sexy.

  If only he’d open up to me.

  I could wait for it—I had nothing else to do—but the fact he kept shutting me out scared me.

  Had I completely given my heart to a man who couldn’t handle it?

  Or worse…didn’t want to?

  I shook the thought out of my head and moved to the door. “You should go, Johnny. We’ll be fine.”

  His answering smirk as he nodded and left the room told me all I needed to know. He knew exactly how we’d handle it.

  Heat bloomed on my cheeks when he glanced one more time at me in the hall. Did he hear us? Brayden hadn’t ever woken up, but he slept like the dead so it was to be expected.

  Based on how quickly Johnny jumped up and answered Finn’s screams every night, I figured he was a light sleeper. Incredibly light sleeper.

  Crap.

  Johnny gone, I closed the door, and the click from the latch echoed in the quiet, tense room.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  I looked at Finn and had to bite back a laugh. He was pouting and it was…cute? Not a word to describe Finn at all, yet it fit.

  I shrugged and headed toward the bed. “He’s twenty-two and a male. What do you expect him to do?”

  “Keep his fucking eyes to the floor.”

  I rolled my eyes and crawled onto the bed. On my knees, I scooted toward Finn and wrapped my hand around his hip.

  “Jealous?” I asked playfully, feeling anything but. Tension rolled off Finn in waves that heated my skin.

  He scowled at me, but his breathing was slower, so I took that as a plus. I rose up on my knees and placed my hands to his shoulders.

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Okay, Finn.” I smiled.

  He huffed and shook his head. “I’m not.”

  “I believe you.” My look told him I didn’t.

  In response, his lips twitched at the ends and he fought a smile. His hands rested on my hips.

  “Want to tell me about the dreams?”

  “No.” It was clipped and firm. Absolute.

  No way was I getting in there.

  My fingers dug into his shoulder. I saw his eyes war with rage and doubt, mixed with a lust that had my arousal wetting my sex.

  “It could help to talk about it.”

  His hands gripped my waist tighter and he edged himself closer to the bed until my chin rested on his chest, my head tilted back, eyes on him.

  “Not fucking talking about ’em.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment, and if Finn had been paying attention, he would have noticed. But even though this breathing had settled, his eyes were still glassy. He was still somewhere else and I hated it—hated that he didn’t trust me.

  I hated how badly I wanted him to trust me.

  “What would you like then?” My voice dropped and I raised my eyebrows. Tilting my head to the side, I exposed my neck, knowing how much Finn liked to settle his lips at the crook of my shoulder. He’d lick and suck and nibble on my skin until I was squirming beneath him.

  Or quivering over him.

  He didn’t seem to care where I was, he just liked his lips on mine—and I didn’t complain.

  I wasn’t going to tonight, either. He needed this somehow—needed me in this way. I knew he was using my body, purging his pain inside me, but I didn’t care.

  I simply wanted Finn for as long as he’d have me, and when it was done…well, I’d figure that out along with the rest of my life.

  “Finn,” I whispered.

  His eyes snapped to mine.

  “What do you want?”

  “You,” he finally rumbled. “Always you.”

  Then he moved. He pushed me backward, climbed onto the bed, and his lips settled exactly where I wanted them. And then we began moving, removing clothes, baring ourselves. Our nails dug into skin, his hands gripped and tugged my hips. He rolled me until I was on my stomach, pulled until I was on my knees and then his tongue was running down my spine, his fingers were pressing inside me…

  And all of it—every move he made—drove me to distraction.

  I didn’t care that he was hiding from me.

  I didn’t care that he was using me. I was using him to forget, too; we just had different terrors that lurked in the dark behind closed lids.

  It was in these moments after his nightmares that I was able to feel completely consumed—taken. He was rough when he slid his wet tip through my slick flesh.

  Our groans mingled together when he began pressing in.

  “Yes,” I hissed as I felt him. “More. I need more.”

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he teased me, sliding in just an inch slowly and pulling back out. The walls of my pussy clamped down, trying to hold him in, but no matter what I did, how I shifted, how I moved, I was completely at his mercy.

  “Finn,” I cried out. “Now.”

  “You got it, darlin’.” He slammed into me, pushing my knees forward and my face into the mattress as his hands grabbed my hips.

  He dug into my flesh and he stretched my insides. I knew I’d be sore. But the pain mixing with the pleasure, and the ability to forget for just a moment overtook any pain I’d feel in the morning.

  I needed this.

  Needed him.

  “More. Harder.” He had reduced me to words instead of sentences. Based on the grunts behind me, I knew he was unraveling the same way I was.

  “Want you too much,” he groaned, his voice thick, and I knew his teeth were clenched together. “Damn it, Meg.” He pushed forward, his balls smacked my clit, and I cried out from the pain and his admission. “Will fucking destroy you.”

  It was a warning. I took it as a promise. If this was destruction, I never wanted to be put back together again.

  I couldn’t even respond as he continued pushing and forcing himself as if he was trying to find the end of me. Like he wanted to devour me from the inside out.

  His hand left my hip and wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me so my back was to his chest. He pressed in and he hit deeper. More pain.

  More pleasure.

  My head swam with mixed sensations.

  “Jesus,” he groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder. His sweat tickled my skin and I shivered. “How do you feel so fucking good?”

  “I feel the same way,” I gasped, breathless.

  He wrecked me, and I loved it. His hand moved until it was wrapped around the base of my throat. Not in warning, but he held me to him, immobile. I breathed with quick, small breaths and felt his hand press against me.

  He could ruin me. And if he did—if it felt this good while he did it—I’d probably turn around, smile, and thank him for it.

  “God, Finn.”

  His hips moved with deep, fast thrusts, and then his hand on my hip fell to my clit.

  He pinched, and all the sensation, all the tight, quivering skin stretched and exploded as my arousal traveled down my spine to my core and to the exact spot where his fingers pressed against me.

  “Finn!” I screamed, my mouth wide open, not caring who heard.

  “Fucking hell,” he groaned. He pushed me down flat on the bed. With my cheek pressed to the mattress, I could barely look back and see him as he followed me. He rocked over me and I felt our bodies align. His hands dug into the sheets and he shook the bed as he rocked and pressed, thrust and claimed.

  Then he came, his chest heaved and shuddered ov
er me, and he collapsed, pushing me further into the mattress.

  18 Finn

  I couldn’t keep doing this to her. Even with my dick still inside Meg, our harsh breathing filling the air in the room after I’d just taken her, I knew I couldn’t keep fucking with her.

  Her softened, sex-slaked eyes turned to me as she shifted on the bed and I closed my eyes.

  I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the way she so obviously felt for me when I was using her.

  But I didn’t want to stop either. She helped.

  Just being near Meg fucking calmed me.

  I was sick of the nightmares. Sick of reliving Piper’s death in my dreams when I closed my eyes.

  I was fucking exhausted from being forced to remember her bruises and the blood. The way I had watched her totally throw her damn life away all because she craved some sort of sick and twisted father/daughter relationship with a foster father who didn’t give two shits about us.

  All I’d wanted was to help her. Save her. Protect her.

  And I’d failed.

  Dropping my head so Meg couldn’t see how twisted up I felt inside, I slowly pulled out of her and headed to the bathroom without a word.

  “Finn?”

  I stopped at the doorway, one hand on the frame, and looked at her over my shoulder.

  God, she was so damn sexy. Still on her stomach, she propped herself up on her elbows. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders and covered those perfect tits I loved to squeeze…taste…pinch. Mark. Claim.

  Damn it!

  “Yeah?”

  She bit her bottom lip, and I waited as she figured out what she wanted to say. “I…” She paused and shook her head. “Thank you for taking my mind off Moscoe.”

  She looked away, rolled, and reached for my T-shirt. It wasn’t what she was going to say, and I had no response.

  I wasn’t fucking her out of some selfless need to keep her mind off her own shit.

  I screwed her because I was an asshole and I couldn’t not touch her when she was near me.

  I was so over my head with her I didn’t know how to climb out. I didn’t even know if I wanted to avoid the pull she had on me anymore.

  After I took care of the condom and took my time cleaning up, I left the bathroom and saw Meg curled into a ball on the bed. Her back was to me, her hair all over the pillow and my shirt.