Bonds of Trust (7 page)

Right now he needed to lose himself in the work. To stop thinking and just forget, before heading upstairs to his loft. It wasn’t like sleep would be happening anytime soon. Not when thoughts of Cali Reynolds continued to haunt his mind.

Chapter Eight

Jake fisted his hands on his hips and waited, the plain white door before him the last barrier of protection from the anger he had to face on the other side.

Or was it really the disappointment he was dreading?

The door swung open—it was time to wade the shit.

“Hey, Dek,” Jake said, trying to remain casual. “You busy?”

Deklan grunted then turned and walked back down the hallway. The fact that the door remained open was Jake’s signal to follow the man. There’d been a number of times the door had simply closed in his face—a very effective, non-verbal
fuck off
.

A small part of Jake had been hoping for the closed door, if only to put this off.

Stepping into the condo, he shut the door and took a deep breath. It wasn’t like Dek would physically hurt him. That wasn’t the problem. No, Deklan had much better ways to make a person feel like a minuscule piece of shit without having to raise a fist. Often without saying a word.

Jake walked down the hall into the living area. No matter how often he was there, he was always mildly surprised at how sophisticated the room looked. Decorated in rich browns and blacks, the abstract artwork and polished silver sculptures strategically placed around the room spoke of a complexity Deklan rarely showed to anyone. Immaculately clean, if it weren’t for the large flat-screen hidden behind the closed doors of the maple entertainment center, he’d swear he walked into the wrong condo.

“Beer?” Deklan asked from the kitchen.

“Sure.”

Jake crossed the room and took a seat at one of the leather bar stools that sat beneath the counter separating the two spaces. The inclusion of a physical barrier between them was a deliberate move on his part.

Dek twisted of the top of the beer and handed it to Jake. After taking a drink of his own, Dek gave him a level stare. “So?”

Right. A man of few words, Dek always implied more into everything he said.

“So,” Jake said. “You talk with Mathews?”

“Every day. You?”

Jake hid his smile behind his beer bottle. The man wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not that he blamed Dek. At six foot five, Deklan Winters didn’t have to make anything easy for anyone. Six-two himself, Jake never felt overly intimidated by his friend, but Dek could definitely make a man squirm.

As the oldest of the three men, Deklan took the role of big brother and protector seriously when it came to Seth and Jake, which also made disappointing him that much harder.

Jake let the cooling fizz of the beer run down his throat. “Dick.”

Dek cupped himself and gave a profane tug. “Yup, got one.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You?”

“You should know. You’ve seen it enough.” The club didn’t allow for modesty.

“That inferior piece of equipment you carry?” Dek snorted. “That hardly counts.”

Jake smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. The familiar banter settled the bundle of knots that had formed in his gut. “Not all of us need to carry a fucking Uzi to feel like a man.”

“No. Only the most skilled get the Uzi.” A devious smiled curled over Dek’s lips.

“Oh, really? I thought it was only those who need to overcompensate for their lack of skill who required an Uzi?”

Dek grunted. “Lack of skill, my ass.” He took another swig of his bear then set the bottled down and leaned onto the counter. His beefy arms spread wide, showing the strength and muscles that bulged under his T-shirt. Dek had lost none of his military-earned physique since he left the service six years ago.

It’d been at Dek’s post-military party that the three friends had crafted their plan for The Den. Their mutual interest in the more extreme side of sex sprouted from their teen years, when the three boys had found a safe haven in a BDSM club, of all places. The club proprietor gave them a place to sleep, income for cleaning the club and, most importantly, a sense of safety. All with the strict rule that none of them could participate in any club activities until they were eighteen and legal.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and nodded toward the closed doors of the entertainment center. “No football?”

Dek shook his head. “Packers have a bye.” Being a Green Bay Packer fan while living in Minnesota Viking territory could be a dangerous prospect for a less confident man. He leaned in. “Why are you here, Jake?”

Direct. The man was always direct.

Unable to hold Dek’s searching stare, Jake stood and grabbed his beer to the stand beside the tall windows of the sliding glass doors. He leaned against the wall and took in what appeared to be a party of sorts happening in the courtyard behind the condo.

Jake had avoided this conversation for two days. It was Sunday afternoon, and they both had to be at the club that night. It was better to get everything out before they all met again.

“I’m leaving when my contract’s up in December,” Jake finally admitted. After a tense bit of silence, he turned to look at Dek, who hadn’t moved from the kitchen.

“Figured that,” Dek grumbled before he shifted to cross his arms over his chest. “So?”

No give whatsoever. “Thought you should know.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, Dek—” Jake started then stopped. What could he say? “It’s nothing personal. I just need to move on.”

Dek thinned his lips and nodded. That was it.

“Nothing else?”

The man lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Nothing I say will change your mind. Right?”

Jake gave a reluctant nod.

“Then there’s no need to say more.”

“No hard feelings?”

“Of course there are,” Dek answered honestly, shooting the verbal dagger at Jake.

He cringed as he absorbed the impact of the words. “Anything I can do to change that?”

“Stay.”

Right. “Can’t do that, man.”

“Why not?”

Jake sighed. He took a drink of his warming beer to stall for time. How did he possibly explain it to Dek? To anyone? “I just need to move on. It’s time for something different.”

“Running again?”

“What?” Jake stiffened, getting defensive. “I’m not running.”

Dek tossed his empty bottle into the recycle bin. “Seems that way to me.” He reached into the fridge and pulled out another beer, silently lifting and offering one to Jake. Jake shook his head and Dek closed the fridge. “It’s what you always do.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Annoyance was quickly replacing anger.

Dek open his beer and took a drink before he answered. “Every time things get too settled, going too smooth in your life, you bail.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just telling you what I see.”

Jake held his retort and turned back to face the window. What the hell? He didn’t run. This is exactly why he hated telling people he was moving on. They always tried to analyze him and find a reason for his simple desire to do something new. Christ. Couldn’t anyone ever just accept that?

He felt Dek behind him, not that he’d heard the man move. Dek had the stealth thing down.

“Your parents died when you were ten, Jake. How long are you going to keep running from that?”

What the fuck?
Jake straightened, tensing at the harsh accusations. “That’s hitting below belt, asshole.” He clenched his teeth to keep from saying more. It would only prolong the conversation.

Deklan stood silently behind him, obviously waiting for Jake to continue.

Refusing to give in to his anger and Dek’s intimidation tactic, Jake focused on the party outside. A cluster of tables decorated with white linen table cloths and small vases of red roses occupied the far end of the courtyard. There were about thirty people mingling around, eating food from the short buffet table and drinking. He imagined some sort of background music played from the iPod docked to speakers on the far side of the gathering. It seemed so quaint and normal.

“Not invited to the party?” Jake asked Dek, opting to change the subject.

“I was. Didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Why?”

Jake huffed out an agreement. It was hard to have a separate personal life, given the business they were in. The questions always came about what he did for a living and if he answered honestly, the inquisitor inevitably paled and found someone else to talk to. Well, the nice ones did. The rest gave some sort of scathing putdown before they huffed off in rigid superiority.

“What’s it for?” Jake asked, his curiosity piqued. And damn, this topic was way safer than the last one.

“Hell if I know.” Dek shot him a look like Jake had grown a second head. Dek stepped up and slid the door open before moving onto the small patio. The sounds of a John Mayer tune mingled over the air with the low chatter of voices.

Jake followed Dek out to lean against a wood support beam for the deck overhead. He took in the intimate gathering and felt just a little bit of longing. The assembled group gave the impression of closeness, laughing and talking about nothing, probably. When was the last time he’d done that? Just hung out with people, friends, and shot the shit on a Sunday afternoon? It was a gorgeous fall day, the sun high with a slight breeze that held just the edge of chill and hinted winter was coming.

“Do you ever want to join them?” Jake asked, not exactly sure where the question came from.

This time, Deklan’s glare guaranteed Jake had definitely sprouted a second head. “Uh, no.”

Of course not. “Maybe you should.”

“Why?” The incredulous tone in Dek’s voice indicated his complete incomprehension of Jake’s conversation. After all, ex special ops men and Doms did not mix well in condo courtyard parties.

Yeah, why? “Because it’s good to have outside social activities,” he said lamely.

“That’s what The Den is for.” Dek shot Jake another glare that would have a wise man dropping the conversation.

Jake was seriously starting to doubt his intelligence, because he pushed on. “And what about outside of the club? Would it really hurt to be nice to your neighbors?”

“I’m nice to my neighbors,” Dek objected. “Why the lecture? You’re the one bailing on the friends you do have.”

And he scores.
Jake cringed and straightened to set his empty bottle on the patio table. He glanced back at the little party, taking another scan of the happy group. Living above the club was convenient, but it didn’t allow for neighbors. The more industrial neighborhood setting lacked social amenities, such as courtyard parties and backyard barbeques.

“You can have my loft over the club when I leave,” Jake offered. “It’ll get you away from this social hell.”

Dek gave a noncommittal shrug. “Kind of like it here.”

“Minus the people.”

Dek grunted and emptied his beer in one long swallow. “They’re not so bad if you don’t talk with them.”

Jake chuckled, having to agree with his friend on some level. He shifted to move back inside when a flash of blond at the edge of the gathering caught his eye. He stopped and stared, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Could it be her? What were the odds?

The woman in question was sitting dressed in a sleeveless, green dress that hugged her curves and rode high on her thighs, showing off her shapely legs. She tossed her head back, laughing at something another person said, her hair bobbing in waves against her shoulders.

She looked different. Refined and sophisticated, like the image she projected in her profile picture. Not at all like the soft and sexy woman he’d fucked two nights ago.

His breath stuck in his chest as he took her in. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen members outside of the club. Hell, he saw them all the time. But this
was
the first time he’d ever reacted this way. The graceful movement of her arms as she talked with others, the light smile lifting her lips, the genuine laugh he could pick out over the crowd of noise all worked together to spike his interest and set his dick throbbing.

Jake stepped back into the shadows and reached blindly for his empty beer bottle, intending to retreat into Dek’s condo. His hand knocked the bottle and sent it tumbling off the table instead. He made a hasty grab for it, missed, then swore as the bottle shattered onto the cement. The crash of the glass echoed across the courtyard and rang like a car accident to his ears.

He cringed and glanced up, afraid he’d see her staring at him.

“Deklan Winters,” a voice called out. “Is that you hiding over there?” An older lady flamboyantly dressed in a bright floral sundress better suited for a Florida retirement community was waving and strolling toward Dek’s patio.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jennings,” Deklan said politely and added a smile that surprised the shit out of Jake. “A lovely day, isn’t it? Just like you.”

The rotund lady blushed and waved a dismissive hand at him. “You’re so kind to flirt with an old fart like me. And it’s Edith,” she said as she stopped at the edge of the patio. “How many times do I have to tell you that?” She patted his beefy arm in a grandmotherly gesture. “Now, what are doing over here all by yourself? There’s a party going on and I insist you join us.” With more courage than most men, the lady grabbed hold of Dek’s hand and began to pull the much larger man into the courtyard.

Dek’s deep, genuine laugh shocked Jake even more. It was a sound even he didn’t hear very often, but this five-foot two-inch whirlwind of energy had managed to provoke the reaction in less than a minute. Amazing. Jake had to make a physical effort to close his gapping mouth as he watched the exchange.

“But Edith,” Dek said kindly as he slowed to a stop. He gave her hand a gentle pat where it gripped his. “I have company.” He tilted his head in Jake’s direction.

“Oh.” Edith perked up and leaned around Deklan to observe Jake. Her lips rose in an almost devious smile before she turned back to Dek. “And who is this handsome man?”

Dek’s back straightened before he sputtered, “He’s a
friend
, Edith. That’s all.” The big man turned to Jake, an actual spark of amusement in his eyes. “Jake, this is Edith Jennings, the unofficial social director of our condo complex.”

Jake smiled and stepped forward, unable to escape without seeming like a complete ass. He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Edith. You must be a something of a social magician if you can get this man to join a party.”