Six

Nico

I should be hitting the streets and using any free time to search for possible leads. Instead I’m up at the crack of dawn, hoping for a chance meeting with Raven.

When I was a kid, my mother would yank off my covers, toss clothes at my face, and shove me out the door so I wouldn’t miss the bus. Now, the second my alarm blares, I shoot out of bed. The possibility of seeing Raven is the only motivation I need to slap on my running gear and head to the beach before the city rises. It’s been a week since I drove her home, since I touched her thighs and felt her breathy voice by my ear. Since she told me she likes to photograph the sunrise. I’ve jogged this route each morning, desperate for a glimpse of her. So far my efforts have been for nothing.

The air is damp as my sneakers hit the pavement, the humidity dripping down my back. My lungs ache in that good way, my thighs burn. Working my body is the best natural high there is, the best form of therapy. The day I arrested my father for dealing drugs, I hit the gym for five hours. When I found out Nikki got knocked up at sixteen, I ran across the city and back. The night I rushed her to the hospital, a needle hanging from her arm, I worked the punching bag so hard, my knuckles bled. Learning Josh got arrested while I was in Aspen had me tied in knots. I had no outlet, no release for my anxiety and anger. I sat in a cramped airplane seat for two and a half hours, mind racing, jaw clenching, as I imagined the little boy I’d carried on my shoulders living behind bars.

Each heavy fall of my foot strikes the unpleasant thoughts from my mind, blood pumping through my limbs. The clouds above shift, the sun just rising. As soon as I stepped outside this morning, I knew the sky would be spectacular—the clouds hung low in rippled layers with breaks at the horizon. It set the stage for the type of sunrise Raven would photograph.

I pick up speed down Alma Street and hit the beach as the sky burns pink. I stop at the sight, hands on my knees, heart pounding in my ears. The colors intensify, coral deepening into red. The calm ocean looks like a river of blood. I grab my T-shirt by the back of my neck and yank it off, using the drenched fabric to mop the sweat dripping into my eyes. The few people out at this hour have stopped, too, mesmerized by the glowing sky, and disappointment fists my gut.

No sign of Raven. No girl with a camera stuck in front of her face, snapping frames.

Lungs still on fire, I walk closer to the water’s edge. If I’d called her after Aspen, even sent a stupid text, she wouldn’t have turned me down. She’d let me take her to dinner, a movie, a picnic on the beach. Defeated, I grab a rock and skip it into the water. It bounces twice then sinks.

As I reach for another one, my pulse picks back up. Raven. She’s sitting on the sand, resting against a large log, one of many lining the beach. Her camera hangs loose around her neck, a faraway look on her face. She’s in her usual black shorts, tank top, and tall boots. Boots I’d like to undo one lace at a time. Her arms rest on her knees, her face so open I want to take that camera from her neck and snap shots. Like this, quiet, the red sky reflecting off her inked skin, no sarcasm barrier, she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I approach and gesture to the empty place beside her. “This seat taken?”

She startles at my voice, her charcoal eyes going wide then falling heavy with longing as she soaks in my sweat-slicked body. My heart kicks against my ribs.

Just as quickly she purses her lips. “Does looking at a picture of the sun hurt your eyes?”

I almost ask her what she’s talking about, then I remember her stupid-question rule. The sarcasm is back. I lift my shirt to put it on as I think of a witty reply, but her eyes keep darting to my chest. I drop my shirt on the sand and sit beside her. “If olive oil is made from olives, what is baby oil made from?”

We sit side by side, arms stretched over our bent knees, the bloodred sky above us. She glances at me, smirks, then focuses ahead. “How do you spell ESPN?”

“Do they hurl compliments in a civil war?”

She tips her head back, chuckling. “You’re pretty quick for a big guy.”

For a big guy. Most people assume I’m a dumb jock, a gym rat who builds muscle to compensate for something. Can’t say they’re all wrong. When my father would tell me I’m no good, that I’m a waste of space and a stupid loser, I’d lift weights. I found barbells at the dump, and I’d pump them daily, tearing my muscles until I felt bigger, stronger, invincible. One day I wanted to be so tough his words would bounce off me.

I also like knowing I can keep a girl like Raven safe. If she were in trouble, I could protect her with my body or my badge.

If she’d let me.

She rests her head on the log at our backs, the length of her neck close enough to taste. I swallow. “Thought I’d try to get you smiling, maybe see those teeth of yours.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, as if embarrassed, and faces me. “What do you mean, my teeth?” she asks through her fingers.

“The gap in the middle. It’s sexy.”

Still covering her mouth, she says, “Maybe you have cataracts. There’s nothing sexy about my teeth.”

Everything about her is sexy. The vines and feathers inked up the side of her left leg, the way her dark eyes narrow when she scowls at me. Her independence and defiance and spirit. Those teeth of hers add innocence to her wildness. “Whatever you do, don’t smile.” I grab her wrist and lower her hand.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not five. Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me.”

“Then do smile.”

Her cheeks crease as she shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, the inevitable smile spreading across her face. Tentatively, she widens her mouth. I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, and she sucks in a breath. “Yep,” I say. “Definitely sexy.”

Sexy as hell. That mouth of hers fit perfectly against mine in Aspen, nothing about her shy or bristly back then. If I lean forward now, I could kiss her senseless and pull her onto my lap and remind her how good we feel together, show her how much she turns me on. My dick nudges me to make the move, my bent legs thankfully hiding my growing hard-on.

Ignoring the heat in my groin, I face the water. “Why aren’t you taking pictures? The sky’s spectacular.” A kaleidoscope of color.

She presses her hand into the sand, digging and filling a trench. “No reason.”

So that’s what I get. Two words. It’s like talking to Colin, forcing my nephew to string a sentence together. Maybe this is a lost cause. The determination I like about her might keep us apart. Still, the way her gaze raked over me just now and last week in my truck, there’s no doubt she feels something, too.

She crosses her legs and leans forward, picking up handfuls of sand and letting the grains sift through her fingers. Finally, she says, “Sometimes I have to remind myself to enjoy a moment. To just be. Not get caught up in capturing it. And I have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Seagulls swoop overhead, several landing nearby, fighting over a banana peel. The sky fades, the bold colors muting as the sun comes up, like my football jersey after years of washing.

“Why are you here, Nico?”

Her question catches me off guard. I’d debated showing up at her apartment, asking her out again, but that wouldn’t fly with Raven. She’s doing her best to keep me at a distance, and forcing the issue would only push her farther away. I could lie and tell her our meeting is a coincidence, not let her know I can’t get her off my mind. But lies don’t breed trust.

Jamal, the man who ran the rec center when I was a teen, was even bigger than me. Not as thick, but a full head taller. Honesty, he’d tell me. Honesty and trust are what makes a man. I dispense the same advice to the kids who come to play sports and escape the streets. Punks like Tim. Can’t be sure they always listen.

I inhale the ocean air, the salt and fish pungent. Raven deserves a man. “You said you come here to take pictures, so I’ve run this way every day since I dropped you off, hoping to see you. And I’m not a morning person.”

She doesn’t shoot me a dirty look, but she closes her eyes for a few beats. “Is that why you smell like shit?”

I lean down and sniff my armpit. Not roses. “Sorry. I smell like I’ve been rolling in a bowl of curry.”

“Curry? Curry is divine. You smell like a locker room.”

“Curry is nasty, but yeah. I could use a shower.”

Her gaze slips over my arms and chest languidly. I wonder if she’s imagining what I am—us in the shower, water pounding our bodies, me on my knees, her hands gripping my scalp, my face between her thighs.

My erection thickens.

She blinks, wipes the sand from her hands, and fiddles with the camera around her neck. “That’s a lot of effort just to see me.”

“You’re worth the effort.”

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?”

She huffs out a laugh. “Probably not.”

She touches her wrist, looping her index finger over her rose tattoo, then traces the feathers on her arm. The ones she told me about in Aspen while straddling my lap, while telling me secrets, while looking into my eyes. Maybe it’s selfish of me to want this time with Raven, to focus on myself instead of my family. Good or bad, right or wrong, I’m not willing to walk away from her again. Not twice.

“Remember I told you about my sister?” Her quiet words are nearly drowned by the water lapping ashore.

I lean heavier into the log. “Yeah.”

“I think she’s here, in Vancouver. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to make this move. After Aspen, I thought about her more. Wondered what happened to her, and…I don’t know. I thought maybe there was a chance she missed me, too.” She rests her elbows on her crossed legs, hunching forward as if there’s a weight between her shoulder blades.

I place my hand on her back, and her body stiffens. “I bet she does.”

“That’s not a bet I’d take. And why am I even telling you all this?”

“Because I asked, Raven. I care.”

Her nose twitches, like she’s sniffing out my honesty, then she relaxes into my hand. “Things are complicated with Rose. She took off the day I turned nine, and I’m kind of the reason why. So I’m not sure she’ll want to see me. But I can’t let it go. This need to have family kind of dug its roots into me. I can’t fully explain it. I mean, I have my friends, but Rose lived in the same hellhole as me growing up. She knows me in a way others never will. Or knew me, I guess. And I have so much to apologize for. Bad stuff I can’t seem to move past.”

I rub soothing circles on her back. “It sounds real. Important. Can I ask you something personal?”

A muffled snort drifts toward me. “Since I’m in a tell-all mood, why not? It’s pretty much your MO anyway.”

She’s right about that. This need I have to know her has been there from day one. “What happened when she took off? Why do you think it’s your fault?”

“That’s two questions, hot shot.” We’re back to her signature snark, but her voice waivers. We watch the rolling waves. She seems ready to ignore me, then she places her hand on my thigh. “I appreciate the asking, but I can’t talk about it yet.”

Although it’s a warm summer morning, a quiver runs through her shoulders, as though her memories are sending ice through her veins. Whatever happened was bad. Painful enough to reduce the strong woman I know to quaking limbs. Unable to keep my distance, I grip her hips and hoist her onto my lap, facing me. She wraps her legs around my waist. Just like in Aspen.

I cup her cheeks. “It’s okay. Tell me when you’re ready. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

For dredging up painful memories.

For ditching you after Aspen.

For making it all worse.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “What are we doing exactly?”

Isn’t that the question? One I have no problem answering. “We’re starting over, getting to know each other.”

Tentatively, she places her hands on my chest, and my muscles jump. One touch from her is like an electric spark. “Then I guess it’s your turn to open the vault.”

Barely able to focus, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I hate curry.”

Smirking, she flicks my shoulder. “Yeah, big guy. I figured that out. Not exactly breaking news.”

Or the type of sharing that breeds trust. I touch her nose, the arch of her eyebrow, the dark strands of her hair, some tinged red by the eerie lighting. If we’re going to find our feet, there has to be honesty, which means divulging the hard stuff. She’s not ready. I get it. Best way to pave that path is to offer my truth. Find a way to voice the nasty thoughts that have plagued me recently.

I clear my throat. “When my father got arrested, my sergeant hauled my ass into his office for a ‘heart-to-heart’ about my family. My character was put into question, and things were sketchy for a bit.” I lower my head and sift through the tough realities I haven’t wanted to poke. Steeling my resolve, I look Raven in the eye. “Insisting I’m not involved with their drama may not go well a second time. I sometimes wonder if I’m working so hard to clear Josh’s name more for me than for him.”

Embarrassment creeps up my neck. Here I am, worried about my job when Josh could go to jail. Older Brother of the Year Award.

She traces the enata symbol on my pec. “It’s natural to look out for yourself, but from what I’ve seen, you care a lot for those around you. You’re also hard on them. And probably too hard on yourself. You’re a good man, Nico.”

I press my thumb below her jaw, to feel her pulse point, judge her sincerity. It’s all there. In the tenderness lighting her ebony eyes. She has no idea how those words lift me up. It’s exactly what I’ve worked toward. To be good. To prove my worth. To not be my father. From her, it means everything. “Thank you.”

We sit like this awhile—her hands on my chest, mine in her hair. Seeds of trust planting. I shift her weight on my lap. “What leads do you have on your sister?”

She narrows her dark gaze on me. “You really want to help?”

“I really want to help.” My family’s fate keeps slipping out of my hands, but Raven has the chance to patch hers up. A small patch, at least.

She stares at me so long I almost flinch, then she says, “I did some digging at home. Found out she might be living here, but I don’t know where to look. Every time I’m out—like at Wreck Beach or on Hastings—I study women, but it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

I rub her arms, slow and gentle. “Let me look into it, see what I can find.”

“It’s a lot to ask.” Her head dips forward, a curtain of black hair covering her face. We’re close. Intertwined. Not pressed together the way I want to crush her to me. My body is heating, though, my cock thickening. She must know it, feel it.

I push the strands aside, and my knuckles brush her jaw. “I want to help. Let me do this.”

She leans into my touch, so I uncurl my fingers and grip her neck, slip my thumb below her ear. She tilts her head and parts her lips. My heart jogs faster than it did on my run. My attraction to her is always intense, but this, right now, has my skin on fire. “Babe, I need to kiss you.”

A soft sigh escapes her lips. “Do you make out with all potential private eye clients?”

Always cheeky. “Just the ones I want to date.”

“In that case, let’s see what you got.”

Her eyelids flutter closed, and I surge forward, needing to ease her worries and erase the emotional distance between us, get to a place where we talk without thinking and touch because we have to. I close my lips over hers, groaning at the contact. Noses brushing, I thread my fingers into her hair. Savor the way she bends toward me. Pretend she’s mine. I swipe my tongue over the seam of her lips, easing them wider. She invites me in, and my dick pulses. She tastes like honey. So good. So sweet. Our tongues twirl, a sensual dance that has me pressing my hips upward, but I don’t grind against her. I’m wet and sweaty. We’re in a public place. But I don’t let up.

I’ve been starved for her too long.

When she gasps and says, “Fuck,” against my mouth, I growl.

Eventually we come up for air. A pudgy kid runs after a group of seagulls, the noisy birds taking flight. The sun rises higher, the ocean waking up, waves rolling with the increasing wind. Feels like the start to a perfect day.

“You actually smell pretty good. Manly,” she says in a deep voice. “And that was quite a reunion kiss.”

“The first of many.” My voice sounds scratchy.

Her heated gaze dips down my pecs and abs, and sweat collects along my waistband. Digging her heels into the sand, she uses my shoulders to push herself up and off my lap. “I need to get home. I’m having brunch with the girls.”

I grab her ankle. “When can I see you again?”

“So persistent.”

“I know what I want.”

She stands facing me, her feet planted wide, the toes of her boots brushing my sneakers. I want to reach up and feel how wet she is, how turned on from kissing me.

She chews her lip. “Here’s the deal, Captain Persistent. What happened in Aspen, with us, changed me. Not just the fact that you took off and didn’t call.” I wince, but she doesn’t stop. “More how I felt with you. Vulnerable, I guess. I hadn’t felt like that since Rose left me, and I didn’t like it. I don’t like it. It makes me feel weak and out of control—emotional. Things I’m not used to dealing with. And finding Rose has become this obsession for me, but it also terrifies me. Because”—she pauses and blinks—“all this stuff I’m feeling could go south if it doesn’t work out. If she hates me or brushes me off…I’m not as tough as I was. Then there’s you.”

Her eyes haven’t wavered from mine. I grip both her ankles now, trying to show her I’ll hold her steady.

“There’s something between us, Nico. I can deny it all I want, but it’s there. I just need to take this slow.”

That’s a hell of a lot better than her usual glare. “I’m in no rush, babe. I’m in this for the long haul. I want the whole package.”

The way she’s eyeing my tented gym shorts, I’d say she wants my package now. I almost groan, imagining her lips wrapped around me, pumping me until I spill into her mouth.

But we’ll do this at her pace.

I release her ankles. “I’ll start looking for Rose tomorrow. Might take a while, but I’m heading to East Hastings on my next day off, to poke around about Josh. There’s an abandoned building filled with squatters. It’s not somewhere you should ever go alone, but since you like to photograph that stuff, you might want to come.” More like I want any excuse to spend time with her.

“Sounds like a date.” She turns to leave but glances over her shoulder. “And slow doesn’t mean stopping. I expect a dinner invitation. Maybe some sexting.”

I chuckle and adjust myself in my shorts. “Noted.”

More people appear, running or walking on the beach. Once Raven’s gone, I pull my phone from my pocket and send her a message:

You taste sweet. Like honey. Hated that you had to go.

Her reply comes shortly: You taste like trouble.

Trouble? Not on her life. If one of us is dangerous, it’s Raven with the soft vulnerability she hides under her hard edges. Edges that can cut.

I did like watching your ass as you left, though. That part was nice.

Is this your version of sexting?

I’m better in the flesh. When you’re ready, I’m gonna make you feel real good. My thighs flex in anticipation.

Like I said, trouble.

Maybe she’s right.

My phone buzzes again, and I smile down at my screen, expecting her name to appear. It’s Alessi. Call me if you’re around.

I toss on my shirt and dial right away. “If this is another hair gel emergency, I’m not running around town looking for beauty products.”

“You can fuck off. This is about Raven.”

I sit straighter. “What about her?”

“I was at the station because I maybe ran out of hair gel and had some in my locker. Turns out her wallet came in with a bust. Some student at UBC has been busy picking pockets. Her cash and cards are gone, but her ID is intact.”

“That’s great.” I get to my feet and dust the sand from my sweaty ass. I just got myself another excuse to see my dark-haired beauty.

Alessi clears his throat. “Yeah, there’s just one thing…”

I pause mid-swipe. I know that tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Probably nothing. But the guys had put her name into the system before they realized you knew her, and she has a record. Thought you might want to know.”

With the upbringing Raven had, it’s not surprising she rebelled. Josh and Nikki aren’t exactly saints. “Give me the Cliff notes.” When he doesn’t answer, I jam my toe into the sand. “Spit it out already.”

“Typical teen vandalism, but there’s also an arson charge that got settled out of court, and a charge for heroin. Possession.”

The briny air lodges in my throat. “You sure?”

“Positive. Sorry, man.”

All I can do is grunt my thanks and hang up. Arson? Heroin? That’s not your typical teen stupidity. That shit screams danger and tosses up a massive red flag. I’m falling for Raven. Falling fast and likely hard. And having a woman in my life means she’ll be around my family, including my sister, who’s still recovering from her own heroin addiction. Raven might be right for me, but if her past has lingered into her present, she could be trouble for my family.

I chew on that unwelcome possibility as I jog home.