Point of Surrender Page 7

  Shit. I hated when women cried. Nothing took a man out at the knees faster than tears.

  “Brayden’s safe. He’s here, the club is filled, and some prospect is watching him. He’s fine for now. I’m fine for now. I just want a night where this bullshit isn’t infecting everything in my life.”

  “Meg,” I said again, drawing out her name. “We have to tell him.”

  She turned her tear-filled eyes on me.

  Swear to fucking Christ. It was like looking at Piper ten years ago. All broken and terrified and looking at me like I was some sort of damn savior. Some sort of angel sent to protect her.

  I wanted to choke her. Wanted a way to take out all my anger on Piper for screwing up everything I had ever wanted.

  Then I wanted to wrap my arms around Meg and protect the living shit out of her.

  My heart dropped to my knees.

  “Please, Finn. I just can’t…not tonight.”

  Common sense told me to take her inside, shove her in front of Ryker and Daemon, and show them the text. If Maurice Moscoe was planning something, and we knew he was, the club needed to get busy finding him and stopping his plan before anything could happen.

  But hell if I didn’t know the desperation and desire to forget. To pretend the hole you had fallen into wasn’t hell…but a really bad dream you’d eventually awake from.

  Against my better judgment, I wrapped my hand around Meg’s. Ignoring the way her fingers tightened around my hand and the strange burning fire it shot up my entire arm, I pulled her toward my bike.

  A half-bottle of whiskey didn’t impair my driving. It would take at least two before I couldn’t drive in a straight line, and we weren’t going far, anyway.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when I smacked a helmet on her head.

  “We’re forgetting.” I swung my leg over my bike and started the engine. “Get on and hold tight.”

  That bottom lip disappeared again and she wiped more tears off her cheeks. I was about to toss her on the bike myself when she hesitantly placed her hands on my shoulders.

  She put a leg over the bike like I had done and hoisted herself onto the seat behind me.

  I ignored the twinge I felt in my gut when her fingers tightened on my shoulders.

  I ignored the way my dick hardened when her arms wrapped around me and her hands rested on my stomach.

  And I tried really fucking hard to ignore the way it felt when she leaned forward and her breath skated across my neck.

  We weren’t thinking tonight.

  We were forgetting.

  8 Meg

  My eyes burned with tears when Finn finally stopped his motorcycle and pulled us into a dark parking lot in what seemed like the middle of nowhere.

  The tears weren’t from crying anymore.

  Just wet from the feel of fresh air blasting across my face while flying over seventy miles an hour on the open road on a motorcycle.

  It was amazing.

  I knew within the first five minutes of being on the motorcycle behind Finn why people who had a bike loved having a bike. Why they worshipped their bikes and the open road.

  It felt like free-falling without a parachute every time Finn revved the engine and the vibrations beneath my butt and thighs shook, or when he took a corner, shouting and making sure I leaned with him.

  “Wow,” I exclaimed, climbing my shaking legs off the bike.

  Finn hadn’t said anything to me since we climbed on the bike except “Lean!” and “Hold on!”

  My voice was as shaky as my legs. I could still feel the bike vibrating across my skin, and it felt good—good in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

  “That was incredible.” I took off my helmet and handed it to Finn. He took it from me and caught my smile.

  He blinked before his eyes dropped and trailed down my body. I felt that gaze everywhere, and then felt it again as he slowly raised them back up to my eyes.

  “First time on a bike?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed. My excitement buzzed through my veins down to my fingertips and toes. “It was awesome.”

  He hung the helmet on one of his bike’s handlebars before he swung his leg over. “You saying I popped your cherry?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I forced it down with a thick swallow.

  “Um,” I said, and took a step back—mostly because Finn kept walking toward me and I didn’t know why he was suddenly looking at me like he was hungry.

  Starving was more like it when his eyes narrowed and he licked his lips.

  “Not sure how I feel about the first time you were on a bike was on the back of mine.”

  “Okay,” I murmured and took another step away from the large, sexy man in front of me who kept heading my way.

  It hit me then that he had pulled us into a parking lot and I had no clue where we were.

  Vaguely, I heard what sounded like splashing water. But that was all I could make out.

  “Come on,” he said and reached out and snagged my hand in his. He yanked me forward and my flip-flopped feet tripped on the loose cement.

  It sent me crashing straight toward his chest.

  “Um.” I lifted my free hand and moved to push off his chest, but paused.

  He was like a hard wall of steel, but warm beneath his leather cut.

  My fingers dug in and I realized I wasn’t pushing him away, but relaxing into him.

  Bad idea! Bad idea!

  My shoulders jerked when I heard him laugh.

  Lifting my eyes, I saw him looking down at me with a wide and easy smile, and only a small remainder of that hungry look still swam in his eyes.

  “Come on,” he said again and pulled me with him.

  I spun on my heels and followed him down a path, away from his bike.

  “Where are we going?” I asked when I remembered I was out in the middle of nowhere.

  My body sparked, but it wasn’t fear. It was something that probably should have terrified me more than fearing Finn would hurt me when he glanced back to me over his shoulder.

  “Meg, I won’t hurt you.”

  Like he could read my mind. Hurting me wasn’t what I was afraid of.

  “Where are we?” I asked again.

  “Just wait, I’ll show you.”

  “Um, I’m not so sure this is a great idea.” I finally decided and tried to stop moving. But Finn kept pulling and I tripped again, trying to stay on my feet. I tugged his hand back, and he didn’t stop. But he did laugh. “Seriously, Finn. We’re in the middle of who-knows-where.”

  “I know where we are.”

  “Still,” I said and kept tugging on my hand. “I don’t, Brayden’s at the clubhouse, and I’ve got stuff to deal with. I’m pretty sure gallivanting with you in the middle of the night is going to make a lot of people either pissed or worried.”

  With a sigh, Finn stopped and dropped my hand. “Fine,” he muttered, and I watched him pull out his phone. He stabbed the buttons with unnecessary force, hit a final button, and slid the phone back to his pocket.

  “Who’d you text?”

  “Ryker. Said you were with me. Now he knows who you’re with and you can stop worrying.”

  “Finn,” I started, but then his hands went to my shoulders and he turned me to my left. My eyes bugged out of my head. “What is that?”

  “It’s the lighthouse. I come here when I need to get away.”

  I looked back at him over his shoulder, remembered what I’d said about needing to forget, and wondered: what did Finn come here to forget?

  The darkness in his eyes that I could barely see—but could totally feel—told me not to even think of asking that question.

  I wouldn’t get an answer.

  “Okay then,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”

  This time Finn didn’t pull me forward. I found myself rubbing the palm of my hand against my jeans to erase the feel of his touch. That was stupid.

  I was being such a girl.

  And I never acted like
a girl. I had a kid and I was a mom and I had responsibilities and debts and stuff to do. I’d never had the time to act all girly-like over a boy.

  But Finn was no boy.

  He walked next to me, hands shoved into his pockets, but took them out when we reached a fence line along the lighthouse. Now that we were in a larger area, there were more parking lot lights illuminating our way. Just past the fence, I could see a small width of grass, and then rocks.

  Below the rocks…nothing but black.

  And the sound of rushing water.

  “Where are we?” I asked, turning my head toward Finn.

  He nodded toward the lighthouse. “Split Rock. It’s a State Park.”

  “I bet it’s really pretty during the day.” My feet moved forward of their own volition, and I reached out, curling my fingers through and around the metal of the chain-link fence. I couldn’t see anything past the edge of rocks, but from the sound of the water slamming into rocks below, it was a long way down.

  “It’s loud and touristy during the day. I like it now.”

  I did, too.

  So I told him that, whispering. When I turned my face away from the water to see Finn, his expression had softened and his lips held just a hint of a grin.

  He tossed me a slight chin jerk and then held out his hand. “Want to get closer?”

  No way. I didn’t. Maybe in the daylight when I could see where I was going, but not now when it looked like nothing but a deadly abyss was beyond the rock line.

  “Come on,” Finn said and reached for my hand. “Said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, somehow releasing my hand from the fence and putting it into his palm.

  He engulfed my small hand when his fingers curled around and squeezed.

  “But if you throw me over the edge, it’s not technically you hurting me, but the rocks and the water.”

  A slight tightening of his hand around mine was his only response.

  It wasn’t exactly comforting, but I still found myself walking next to him, allowing him to lead me to my possible death.

  At least it’d get me out of the Moscoe mess.

  I looked down and watched my steps as Finn took us down a path that had to have been made by foot traffic. When we hit the edge of the fence line, Finn turned and repositioned us so I was close to the fence and he was on the outside. He let go of my hand only to hold my other one.

  “Finn.” My other hand clasped onto the fence. “This is crazy.” There was maybe six feet of land before it dropped off and I could see the edge, but nothing past it except inky darkness. “This is insane.”

  “I know.” He kept walking, but did it slowly so he didn’t yank my hand off the fence. “But it helps.”

  Helps what? I wanted to ask, but I bit my tongue.

  With my heart racing, my eyes darting around, I inhaled a deep breath and was met with the taste of fresh air and freezing water on my tongue. “Okay.”

  “Just a little bit further but hold onto my hand and follow exactly where I tell you to, okay?” He looked back at me over his shoulder and my heart jumped.

  “Um.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  I snorted. Telling a mom not to worry is like telling a bird not to migrate.

  Impossible.

  “Fine,” I said, deciding Finn didn’t need to know how ridiculous his order was. He’d just give me some strange look that was a mixture of annoyed and amused.

  I saw it. Not frequently, and mostly when he watched Brayden. Although the annoyed part was more obvious, like anger, and the amused part didn’t shine through very often.

  But I saw it occasionally when he thought no one was looking.

  Somehow I knew arguing with him now would get me one of those looks.

  So I stayed silent, and I let Finn pull me behind him. He kept one hand wrapped around mine. And I ignored the way I liked his large, warm, and callused hand on my skin.

  The way his rough skin scratched my smooth skin.

  The way every time his fingers twitched against mine, something else twitched deep in my belly. As if the two parts of my body were connected.

  I swallowed a thick lump when Finn reached a small area of flat rock and then I gasped.

  “Wow,” I said, exhaling the word.

  I looked out at the darkness. I knew the ripples were waves, but they were really far down. Like really far down.

  “Sit.”

  The command came from next to me and beneath me.

  I looked down to see him squatting. His knees bent and boots flat on the stone, one of his hands went to his knees and the other gripped my hand.

  I sat.

  Then he let me go, and I resisted the urge to shake my hand and erase the feeling it sent to my arm when his touch wasn’t there.

  Cold and a little shivery. I crinkled my nose and looked away, not liking the fact that this man, who generally seemed so annoyed with me, could actually make me miss the way he held my hand.

  I wasn’t that much of a girl.

  “You come here a lot?” I asked after several minutes of silence.

  The air wasn’t silent, though. I had no idea how far the drop off the edge of the rocks just past us was, but in the barely there light I could catch glimpses of lighter gray on dark, which I figured were whitecaps on the waves.

  And they were small whitecaps…although I’d seen Lake Superior during the day and those waves were anything but small.

  “When I need to.”

  His lips pressed together and he blinked.

  I figured that was all the explanation I was going to get.

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I debated whether or not to say what I wanted to, to tell him about Brayden. To tell him about how much I feared that Moscoe would take Brayden. Or me.

  I shivered at the thought. The memory of Moscoe’s voice and his cold and clammy finger running down my cheek.

  “Meg,” Finn said, and suddenly his hands weren’t on his knees. One hand was, but the other was at the back of my head, his fingers threaded through my hair, and he pulled, forcing me to face him.

  I lost the ability to speak.

  “Club won’t let anything hurt you. No fucking way Ryker is going to let someone like Moscoe touch you, or hurt you. Or the kid. So whatever it is you’re worried about, you need to realize that we’ve dealt with worse shit.” His chin dipped and his eyes bored into mine.

  My spine shivered from the intensity in his eyes.

  “You feel me?”

  Please. I’d love to.

  I choked, shaking that particular thought out of my head. My goodness. What is he doing to me?

  “Okay,” I said instead. “I feel you.”

  His fingers tightened in my hair and pulled me closer. One of my hands fell from my knees and I braced myself for a fall by slamming it into the rock between us. But there was little space and my arm brushed against his thigh and hip.

  He didn’t stop pulling me toward him until our lips almost touched, and I could feel his breath on my mouth and cheek.

  I thought about what Faith, Olivia, and Jules had said—at least the parts I understood, because a lot of what they said to me I still didn’t get.

  And then I thought about what Finn had said in the dark light before sunrise, less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “Finn,” I breathed out.

  His fingers tightened on my scalp.

  “I want you to make me forget.”

  His eyes closed and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Meg.”

  It sounded like a groan, painful and ripped from this throat.

  But he leaned in closer and his lips brushed against mine.

  I inhaled a gasp.

  He did another light brush against my lips and I stopped breathing altogether.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he whispered, his voice thick with warning.

  I didn’t have time to think, because as soon as he made another brush against my lips, I inhaled a gasp, and then his lips were a
gainst mine.

  Not teasing. Not light.

  He pressed me into a kiss I felt deep into my bones. His lips against mine, he tilted his head and his mouth moved against mine.

  It was forceful. It was hot. When his tongue licked my lips, demanding entrance, I let him in, ignoring the voice in my head that had finally started screaming at me to stop.

  That this was a mistake.

  And it was going to end badly. Really bad.

  I didn’t care. Finn’s lips against mine, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth, letting me taste him while he tasted me, made me feel more alive in those few seconds than I had in years—a lot of years. Possibly ever.

  I moaned, a low sound escaping my throat from somewhere deep inside and somewhere I didn’t know existed.

  And like a rubber band, Finn snapped back.

  His eyes stared into mine before he blinked.

  I panted for breath.

  His lips twisted into something entirely unpleasant. He looked full of regret and something sank deep inside my gut, like an anchor.

  Then his forehead dropped to mine.

  “You couldn’t handle me,” he whispered. “You couldn’t handle how rough I’d take you. How hard. And you’re certainly too innocent to be tangled with a man like me.”

  Somehow, that made me want him more. His warning at the end negated the abrasiveness of his words before it.

  I licked my lips and he gripped me tighter. Heat from his hand burned through my hair and singed my scalp.

  "I think I could handle you just fine," I breathed out, although that was most likely a lie. I probably couldn’t handle what he said. It sounded dark and scary.

  Sex with Byron, the only man I'd ever slept with, had always been good. Sometimes slow, sometimes passionate, and sometimes in the early mornings, a bit lazy.

  My stomach twisted and flipped at what Finn described. But it wasn’t altogether a bad feeling, either.

  He must have caught the way I looked at him, the way I wanted him, because he jumped to his feet and pulled me to mine.

  Giving me his back, he grabbed my hand and began walking us back the way we came.

  “I would ruin you, Meg—completely fucking destroy you, and then Ryker would kill me. Don’t want that shit on my conscience and I certainly don’t fucking want it on yours.”