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  But they needed to talk. Badger reached out and grabbed Show’s arm. Fuck, it was a big arm. A death machine of an arm. And when Show looked down at Badger’s hand, it was clear that the machine was revving.

  “It’s important.” He gestured to the small two-top table nearby. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

  While Show stared, Badger fought to stay steady. He managed, and finally Show yanked his arm away and sat. Badger got Davey to draw two beers from the tap and then went to sit.

  Show didn’t touch his beer, so Badger didn’t, either.

  “Talk.” Show’s fists rested on the table.

  Might as well put it right out there. “I want to tell you the truth. I want to be straight with you, be worthy of your trust again. I told you how I feel about Adrienne. She feels the same way about me.”

  Those canned hams at the ends of Show’s arms curled tight, but he didn’t move otherwise. Badger kept going. He could hear the talk at the bar slow and then stop; they had an actual audience.

  “I love her, Show. I really do. We’re…we’re together. I know you don’t want it, and I don’t blame you. But I promise I’ll be good to her. I swear it.” He stopped, swallowed, and waited.

  Nothing happened, except Show’s knuckles went white, the scars over them raising up. But he didn’t say a word. His expression didn’t change from its original contemptuous heat. Badger waited, as motionless as Show.

  And then Show was on his feet, and the table that had separated them was sailing through the room. Next, Badger was on the floor, on his back but still sort of sitting in the chair, and Show’s hand was around his throat, squeezing with obvious intent to kill.

  “What did I tell you, motherfucker?” The words scraped through Show’s clenched teeth. He cocked his other fist back. Badger didn’t fight.

  “Showdown! Step back, brother.” Through the thunderous pound of his heartbeat in his ears, Badger heard Isaac’s voice. “Now, Show. Right now.”

  And Badger was released. Len helped him up, as Tommy and Isaac pulled Show back.

  Len straightened his kutte and gave him a light cuff on the chin. “Shake it off, little brother. Then get on out of here. You’re okay. You did good. You did right. Gonna take some time. But you did right.”

  Badger hoped that was true.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For the third night in a row, every night they’d slept together, Adrienne came awake with a start, yanked from sleep by Badger’s shouts. She rolled over and sat up, her heart pounding.

  He was already sitting up, his back to her, swelling with every heaving breath. She knew not to touch him yet, or he’d jump out of bed in a shock.

  “Badge?”

  Even at her voice, he jumped at little, but then he looked over his shoulder. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should—I should stop sleeping here.”

  Now she could touch him, so she scooted over and laid her head on his back, circling his waist with her arms. His skin was damp with sweat.

  “No, you shouldn’t. I like having you with me. And you shouldn’t have to wake up from that alone.”

  Though he didn’t turn around, she felt him begin to relax. A rhythm for his nightmares was emerging—he’d bolt awake, shouting, at least once every night. She’d wake with him and then wait as he sat on the side of the bed and worked to come back to real time. If she touched him before he was aware of her, he’d jump like he’d been touched with a live wire and leap off the bed, his eyes scarily wide. But once he knew she was with him, she could offer him some comfort.

  Eventually, he’d be composed enough to turn back to her, and he’d need to have sex before he could sleep again.

  Actually, he needed to have sex a lot, several times a day, and sometimes he was pretty frantic about it. Maybe it was just the excitement of this new thing they had—excitement she felt herself. But Adrienne was beginning to wonder if sex was replacing another need he was trying to master.

  She didn’t mind. Their sex was brilliant—totally worth waiting for—and she loved the way he made her feel. She wanted to help him, too. She’d told him she would. But she was starting to get pretty sore.

  For now, though, she held him, her cheek on his back. His back was gorgeous—ridged with muscle, his shoulders rounded and wide. He was tall and thin, his hips narrow, but he was a lot bigger than he’d been when they first met. He had this set of muscles that ran from just under his arms to almost meet at the small of his back, two dimples just below. So very sexy. He had a scar near his right shoulder blade, puckered and rounded—from a bullet. That was sexy, too, but not because it meant he was tough—though he was. It was sexy to her because it was poignant. A sign of how much he’d lived through. She guessed that was what scars did—told tales of suffering. And Badger had suffered so.

  He didn’t have ink on his back. He had a few pieces on his well-defined arms, all of which were crossed with scars now.

  And his chest. God, how it hurt her to look at his chest. It didn’t gross her out at all, but it made her hurt for him so much. She didn’t know what had happened; he still wouldn’t tell her. There was a slight concavity under one arm, as if his ribs didn’t quite curve the right way anymore. Not very noticeable unless her hand was right on it, but it was there. The scar was the worst of it. It was almost like he’d been horribly burned. But not quite the same—at least she didn’t think so. From just inside his shoulders, just below his collarbones, to about three inches above his navel, all the way across, he was one big scar. The scar had formed in odd kinds of stripes, cut with scant ribbons of the flesh he’d had. She knew this because there were remnants here and there of the tattoo he’d had across his chest. He’d lifted his shirt one time, years ago, to show her his club ink—and his really nice chest, all lean and muscly. That ink was gone now, except for random traces. And he didn’t have nipples. It looked like he’d been filleted with a rusty saw or something. But that was completely crazy.

  Unless she thought of Show’s back. And Len’s eye. And the scars they all had on their arms. Something really horrible had really happened. Something completely crazy.

  But he wouldn’t tell her what. He would hardly talk at all after a nightmare, except to apologize. He’d just do what he was doing now, turning and taking her in his arms, laying her down, lying over her, kissing her, touching her. His hand moved between her thighs and slid into her folds. He grunted when he found her already wet. She’d been ready for him since she’d put her arms around him. He reached to the box of condoms they hadn’t bothered to put away. Their second box of a dozen.

  When the condom was on, he slid inside her. It did hurt, a little, like she was abraded inside. But she knew it would pass soon enough. In the meantime, she focused on what felt good—his hands and his lips on her. The way his beard and his long hair brushed against her skin, tickling in a dazzlingly sexy way. The sound of his breath growing harsher against her ear.

  And, finally, the feel of him moving inside her. He was bigger than she’d imagined. Quite a lot, actually, and she’d been scared at first. And it had hurt a lot at first. But there were places inside her she’d had no idea could feel the way he could make them feel. She didn’t feel the abrasion anymore; instead, she felt him pushing deep, against a spot inside that made pleasure so rich and intense that sparks happened in her head.

  He could tell when she was close; he could always tell, and he always made this particular growly-grunt noise right about the time when her brain stopped working. This time, though, at that moment, he shocked her by pushing his arms under her back and gathering her up as he sat back on his heels. Suddenly, she was sitting on his lap, straddling him, kissing him, and he was thrusting up into her, holding her close, his arms crossed over her shoulder blades and his hands holding her head tight to his.

  She flexed her hips and realized that she had a lot of control and range of motion in this position. Her arms over his shoulders, her hands tangled in his hair, she took over a little, finding a way to move that kept him hi
tting that great spot inside her. After a couple of increasingly frenzied minutes, he grunted and grabbed her hips, taking over and yanking her back and forth on him.

  When she came, she pulled on his hair so hard it hurt her hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. He came right after her, his rumbling groan vivid with relief. In the middle of the bed, they sat in that position until they were breathing normally. Then Badger kissed her forehead, lifted her off his legs, and left the bed to dispose of the condom. When he came back, he slid under the covers behind her, folded her up in his arms, and settled into sleep.

  As fantastic as that had been, Adrienne was really quite sore now. She needed a break. And she needed him to talk to her, at least a little. These wordless encounters felt weird to her. She wasn’t sure why, but they did. There was a lot that was new. A lot she didn’t know. It was embarrassing how much.

  But she did know that if she told him she was hurting, he’d beat himself up about it. And she knew he wasn’t ready to talk. She didn’t want to upset him, especially not now, so soon after his detox.

  She wasn’t sure what to do, or what she had a right to do. How much could she ask of him? They’d only been together a few days. Or had they been together for years?

  ~oOo~

  She moved into the manager’s suite the next day. Shannon sent Show over with pieces of furniture they’d had in their shed, stuff that had apparently been in his house before Shannon moved in. An old, red plaid loveseat. A couple of end tables. A dresser. And the bed that had been in the purple room, the one she slept in when she visited.

  It was a twin bed, only room for one. It had also been Daisy’s bed. There was no way she was going to sleep with Badger in that bed.

  And she suspected Show knew that. Maybe even planned it. He gave her a look when he’d brought it in and set it up in the bedroom. That look said, See? I told you I wasn’t getting out of the way.

  She hadn’t seen much of Show since he’d come up to talk to her that evening in the purple room. Nearly a week, now. It was like they were both keeping their distance. Adrienne had a sense that there might have been a scene between him and Shannon, because the day after she moved into the B&B, Shannon had asked outright whether Show had said something that made her feel unwelcome.

  Yes, he had. Or—no. No, that wasn’t it. He’d made her feel like he was trying to parent her, that he was meddling unfairly, and that had been unwelcome. What she told Shannon, though, was that she loved Show, and he hadn’t done anything of the sort. Shannon had seemed sufficiently convinced, and Adrienne was glad. The last thing she wanted to do was put anything between them at all.

  There was something between her and Show, though. Badger. And Show’s stubborn refusal to forgive him. Or just to let her make her own choice about him.

  But when Show had parked his big pickup, loaded with furniture, she’d gone out to meet him. He’d reached out his huge arms and brought her close for a smothering hug, and she’d just melted and buried her face in his chest—or his stomach, more like. He was more than a foot taller than she was.

  He kissed her head and set her back, taking her hands in his. “You got yourself a stubborn streak, little one.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  Though she smiled up at him, his expression was serious. “Maybe so. On this, anyway. I’m not good with what you’re doin’, but it looks like you don’t care about that. I’m keeping my eye out, though. You come right to me if shit starts to go sideways, Adrienne. I’m not screwin’ around here.”

  “So you can hurt him again? Kill him?”

  “So I can protect you. He already hurt you. He’s a junkie. You think a week locked in a room makes that not true?”

  “I think he deserves a second chance.” She took a breath and said something more. “I think something really terrible happened to him—and to you—and nobody will talk about it. I think everybody’s acting weird because of it, and you all deserve a second chance.”

  She stopped and waited for his face to do that shuttering thing. But it didn’t. Instead, a small smile pushed the corners of his mouth up a little. “You’re an old soul, Adrienne. A real good girl. I don’t want you to lose that. If you stay here, get dragged into our shit, I’m afraid you will.”

  All she could do was shrug. “I love him, Show. I have a lot of things to figure out, but not that. That I know.”

  “He’s different, though. Not like he was.”

  “Yeah. But he’s still Badger.”

  “Christ.” He shook his head. “I’m not out of the way. I’m just making a little room. For you, not him. You understand?”

  She hugged him again. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, little one.” He squeezed her hard. “Okay, let’s get you set up.”

  ~oOo~

  After everything was unloaded, Adrienne went out to the truck with Show. He gave her another long, hard hug. “You be careful. And you come to me. Right?”

  “Right. But I won’t need to. He’s better. He loves me.”

  With a long, deep breath and a longer sigh, Show shook his head and got into his truck.

  When she got back into the main house, Beth was leaning against the front desk. She gave Adrienne an appraising look.

  “That go okay? Show’s been kinda bristly lately. I’d say he don’t much like this plan of yours.”

  “It’s fine. I’m all moved in, and Show and I are good.”

  “Well, that’s fine, then. You want some lunch? I made chicken salad.”

  “With the raisins and cashews?” Adrienne’s stomach rumbled approvingly.

  “Only way I make it, cutie. And there’s fresh bread if you want a sandwich. Come on. You can help me plan the weekend breakfast.”

  Living in the B&B was going to be pretty great.

  ~oOo~

  After that nice lunch, Adrienne went back to her borrowed apartment and looked around. It wasn’t a big place—a galley kitchen with a bar counter for eating, a small sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Her dorm at Columbia had been about the same, except with extra bedrooms for her suitemates. But the scant few pieces of furniture she now had made it look palatial. It even echoed.

  As much as she liked it here, it was really a short-term solution. The only entrance required passing through Shannon’s office, and she was right in the middle of the B&B’s hubbub, so it wasn’t a huge step forward in terms of privacy. But it gave her a minute to think. Until she had some kind of idea what she wanted—some kind of idea that went beyond the name Badger—a short-term solution was best.

  There was a knock at the door. She crossed the room and opened it to find Badger himself, smiling sweetly at her. “Hey.” He stepped in, making her step backward, and put his hands on her waist, kicking the door closed as he came into the room. His mouth was on her fast and hard, and he pulled her close, his hands sliding under her top.

  When she understood that she felt a little scared, she pushed at his shoulders and turned her head out of the kiss. “Badge—wait.” Heedless, he moved to nip at her throat. She tried again. “Badger, please.”

  He stopped and lifted his head. “You okay?”

  “Can we talk?”

  When he nodded, she took his hand and led him to the loveseat.

  “Is something wrong?” A deep crease furrowed his brow. Most of his bruising had healed, leaving faint traces of greyish-blue and green over his nose and under his eyes. He had a part through one eyebrow. A new scar. So many scars he had.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just…need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay. Did Show say something?”

  “No. Or—yeah, but it was okay. He said he was making some room for us.”

  Badger grinned. “That’s good. That’s great. So what’s wrong?”

  She could feel her cheeks flame and knew that she was blushing. Embarrassment about that made her blush more. Badger cocked his head and brought a hand to her face, brushing his thumb over her hot cheek. “Babe?”
/>
  She liked that he’d starting calling her that. It felt possessive, in a good way. Like what they were doing was real. Finding courage in a deep breath, she said, “I’m…I’m kinda…um…I’m sore. I think I need a break.”

  “What?” Realization dawned; it was like watching a movie on his face as it happened. “Oh. Oh, fuck.” He let go of her hand and stood.

  “It’s okay, Badge. I’m okay. I’d just like to slow down a little. Please don’t be mad.”

  Standing in front of her, he looked down. “Mad? I’m not mad—not at you. I’m mad at me. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  When he started to walk away, she reached out quickly and grabbed his hand. “Sit down, Badger. It’s okay. This is why I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t want you to get upset.”

  He sat, but he looked distraught. “Sooner? How long have you been hurting?”

  Since they’d started, but she didn’t want to say that. Her silence, though, said it for her.

  “Fuck.”

  “I love what we do. Really love it. And it stops hurting in the middle, when…you know. But it’s a lot, and it’s new. I just need like a day off or something. But I want you with me. Is that okay? Would you stay even if we didn’t…?”

  He nodded and pulled her close. “God, yes. I love you. I’m so sorry.” But she’d seen something in his eyes before he’d tucked her under his chin.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  His chin rubbed against her head as he nodded. “Sure.”

  “Does sex help you?”

  He went still for a couple of seconds before he responded. “What?”

  There was some kind of danger in pursuing this topic, she knew. Not that he’d hurt her, but that he might pull away. But they had to talk. He was so tormented. Even though what they had was new, they had to talk about this. In fact, they had to talk because what they had was new. She didn’t want to start off by hiding and burying things. So she pushed gently on his chest and sat up.