Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) (31 page)

“Dawson?”

“Hmm.” I stared at the ceiling until her small fingers gripped my chin and forced me to look at her. Leaning up, her lips found mine, and her other hand closed around my dick. It was all the encouragement I needed, and with an agonized groan, I rolled her under me.

H
ope was a funny thing. It could wrap you up in comfort and reassurance and everything-will-be-okays. But it was also a treacherous emotion. It could leave you angry and hurt and disappointed. Hope could break you in ways you never thought possible.

Hope could ruin you.

Hope
had
ruined me. After Dawson had gone to prison and Grams got sick, hope kept me alive. It sheltered me and gave me something to cling to until I received the letter from UCLA.
We are pleased to offer you a partial scholarship…
Nine little words that changed my life. I’d put everything on getting out of Chancing, of making something more of my life. I still wanted a life with Dawson, but he wanted me to follow my dreams. To succeed. And until those nine words stared back at me, that had been the plan. The hope.

The dream.

After that, I stopped hoping. Grams wasn’t going to get better. The bank wasn’t going to let me keep the house, and UCLA wasn’t going to accept my pleas of poverty. The day we buried Grams, I realized Chancing was my home—my past, present, and future. And when I let Donnie in, all those months later, it became my prison.

I hadn’t let myself hope or dream until now, and although it was foolish to let my heart run the show when so much was still to be determined, Dawson’s presence in my life was changing me. Altering my essence. I wanted more—a life away from Chancing, away from Donnie, away from the drugs. Away from this Joy—broken, defeated, ruined Joy Mathers.

But at what cost?

As I watched Dawson and Lex talk strategy and pore over the information Aidan had sent them, I couldn’t help but wonder how we were going to walk away from this in one piece. I didn’t doubt Dawson could handle himself, and Lex … he was over six feet of sheer muscle and always looked ready for business, but they were in Donnie’s territory now. Chancing wasn’t some jungle or desert or hostile town. Donnie DeLuca didn’t play by anyone’s rules except his own, and although I was here—in the Spencer’s house—I knew he would come for me. One way or another, Donnie would reclaim what he thought was his.

“I know Aidan said we have to keep things off the radar, but I’m owed a favor or two. We might need to call someone in for this.” Lex paced the length of the kitchen. Since Sherri had called earlier to say our hiatus was over—Donnie was due back in town today—everyone had been on edge.

“No, too risky. We want to avoid an all-out war with him,” Dawson replied.

“Okay, no outside help. We leave then. We can be out of here before he even gets back. No tracks, no paper trial. We disappear.”

“No.” I rose from my chair and folded my arms over my chest. “Running is not an option. He won’t rest until he finds me.” I looked from Lex to Dawson and smiled sadly. “It’s not an option.”

Dawson nodded curtly, his lips drawn into a tight line. “We stay. Is Aidan one-hundred percent sure his contact at the DEA can’t intervene?”

Lex scrubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. “They’re not interested in a two-bit dealer from a small town in Oklahoma. Paperwork, red tape, things won’t move quick enough.” He paused and narrowed his eyes. “Our best shot is using DeLuca’s newfound ambition against him. It’ll require cashing in a couple of favors, but it might be the cleanest option.”

“Make the call.”

Mikey and I looked at each other, and I felt relieved he seemed as clueless as I was. Dawson turned to the both of us and said, “No leaving the house until we know he’s back. I don’t want any surprises.”

For once, I didn’t argue. If Donnie was coming back, and as pissed as Sherri said he was, I didn’t want to be anywhere he could get to me. But Mikey was less than pleased. He threw up his hands and groaned, “Seriously, I have a business to take care of. I know you want to protect Joy, I want that too, but is it really going to get that bad?”

“Mike, don’t fight me on this. We’re trying to avoid anyone getting hurt, and we need more intel on what DeLuca has planned. It’s just a couple of days.”

“Fine.” Mikey glared at Dawson, and I felt like I was witnessing one of their high school fights all over again. “Fine!”

Dawson came to me and enveloped me in his arms, dipping his head to my neck. “No taking chances. I want you at the house unless you’re with me, okay?”

I nodded against his shoulder feeling a rush of desire shoot through me. It startled me—I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to crave something besides the high, but something dormant had awoken in me since the sawmill. Dawson had worshiped every inch of my skin, erasing the pain of the past. There were still scars, ones that might never truly heal, but I could finally breathe, and I didn’t ever want to lose that feeling again.

Pressed against him, I craned my neck back and looked into two stormy oceans. “I promise. I trust you, Dawson. I just want this over with.”

“Soon. We’ll be out of the godforsaken town soon.”

I closed my eyes and nestled closer. We hadn’t talked about what came next—after the shit with Donnie was resolved—but wherever Dawson headed was where I was going too.

He wasn’t leaving me behind again.

Two days passed and nothing happened. Donnie was back—Sherri kept us informed about his movements. According to her, he had returned from his meeting with a mean temper and was riding everyone at the club hard. Including Sherri. I hated not being able to do anything, but Sherri had been involved with the DeLucas long before I ever became entangled with them.

The four of us remained on lockdown, only leaving the house when absolutely necessary. Mikey was still pissed that Dawson had insisted he shut down his shop for a few days until things settled. Dawson and Lex spent most of their time strategizing. And I tried to keep busy—anything to keep the hunger at bay. Whenever Dawson was near, the cravings were manageable—my body wanted him more than the high—but when he was locked in work mode with Lex and I was left with too much time to dwell, I struggled to force them out. My cells screamed for the rush.

So for two days, I cleaned and organized and cooked. The guys didn’t comment on my sudden Suzie Homemaker transformation, and if Dawson was concerned, he didn’t show it because there were more pressing issues—like figuring out how to deal with Donnie.

“What are you doing?” Dawson’s voice startled me, and I dropped the cans of food piled in my arms. I turned and said, “Just organizing the cupboard,” like it was a completely normal thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.

“Yes, I can see that.” Dawson’s brows knitted tighter. “But
why
are you organizing the cupboard?”

I shrugged and placed down the remaining cans. “Keeping busy, I guess.”

“Is everything okay?” Concern shone in his eyes as he stalked toward me. I backed up, my hip digging into the counter.

“Fine? I’m not sure that’s a word I’d use to describe our current situation …”
Or me.
“But I’m holding up.”

He didn’t want to hear how I was fighting to hold it together. How that, every time he left me alone, the cravings burned through me, and my body trembled.

“Hey,” his voice softened as he placed a hand on my arm.

I dropped my eyes, feeling the weight of shame hang over me. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried, I guess.”

Dawson tilted my chin forcing me to look at him. He didn’t buy it; I saw it in his eyes. He knew. Of course, he knew. It was like the huge white elephant in the room. We danced around the issue, preferring to bury our heads in the sand and pretend everything was fine, given the circumstances.

Everything was not fine.

But how could I tell him that? When he was already giving up so much for me? I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes again.

As if he sensed me shutting down, Dawson captured my lips with his, and I looped an arm around his neck hoisting my body flush with his. I would never tire of the feel of his mouth on mine, his taste, strength. In Dawson’s arms, I felt whole.

I felt like I could beat this thing living inside me. For us, I could take back control of my life.

He broke off the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine giving me space to catch my breath. “I’m sorry we’re still holed up here. I’m sorry things are shitty, right now. But we will get through this, and everything will be fine. I promise.”

“I trust you and Lex, Dawson.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my nose. “Because you are the most important thing in the world to me and I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“Any more developments?” I asked, breaking away from Dawson and continuing with my organizing.

Dawson leaned over me and handed me a rogue can. “Lex’s contact is working on something. We want to avoid a confrontation if we can.”

I read between the lines; they wanted to avoid a showdown with Donnie, but if it came down to it, they wouldn’t rule it out. The thought terrified me, but it was soon quelled, replaced by warmth spreading through me as Dawson wrapped his arms around my waist and tugged me back against a solid wall of abs. “How about we take a break?” His husky voice left a trail of sparks up my neck.

“What about Mikey and Lex?”

“What about them? We can keep the noise down. Besides, there’s always the shower.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach and I shivered. “Sounds go-”

My cell phone vibrated on the counter. Dawson and I both tracked the sound, our eyes falling on the screen. Relief washed over me at Sherri’s name flashing on the screen. I had half expected it to be Donnie. He had made no effort to contact me, except for sending Stu and Barkley to watch me. Dawson and Lex thought it indicated he wasn’t as tough as the town made out, but something niggled me about the whole thing.

“Hey, Sher-”

“Joy, thank God. She’s in bad shape, darl. He went too far this time. Fuck. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what to do or who to call, and I know this is probably a bad fucking idea, but I didn’t know who to call …”

“Whoa, calm down, Sherri, just breathe. Start from the top. Who’s hurt?” Dread uncoiled in my chest and rushed through me as I said the words.

“Arianna, Joy. He hurt Ari.”

My hand tightened around the cell phone and clutched my stomach fighting the urge to retch. “Where are you?”

“Troy drove us out to El Reno Hospital. He had to get back to the club, though. Joy, she’s in bad shape.” Sherri’s voice trailed off to a whisper and my heart cracked at the thought of the sweet, innocent girl lying hurt in some hospital bed all because of Donnie.

“We’re coming. Hang tight, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

I ended the call and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head enough to digest the conversation with Sherri.

“He hurt the young girl?” Dawson asked, and I nodded meeting his eyes.

Anger flashed across his face and the muscles around his jaw clenched. I reached out to touch him, but Dawson stepped back ever so slightly. “I know she’s your friend and you’re worried, but we can’t risk it, Joy. Don’t ask me to do this.”