My end iron fiends book.., p.6
My End (Iron Fiends Book 10), page 6
I reached up before I could talk myself out of it and brushed a fingertip along his arm. His muscles jumped beneath my fingertips.
“I should go,” I whispered.
“You should.”
“But something is making me stay.”
He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, unmoving, as if daring me to close the last inch between us.
I didn’t.
Instead, I stepped back, and my pulse thudded loud in my ears. “Goodnight, Jake,” I said, voice shaky.
He didn’t answer, but I felt his gaze on my back all the way up the path to the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Stretch
Boone’s mansion was already awake by the time I made it upstairs the next morning. The staff moved like shadows. Efficient, silent, and everywhere all at once. I found Jim in the front hall with a clipboard in hand, muttering into a Bluetooth earpiece like he ran the damn Pentagon.
“You’re on the east corridor today,” he said without even looking up.
“Guarding Boone again?”
“He’ll be in his office most of the day. Your job is to stand outside the door, not to make friends.” He glanced at me then, his tone clipped. “Got it?”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Was just asking if I should be inside the office. You know, to actually protect him.”
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “You questioning your assignment?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Nope. Just trying to be thorough.”
“Then thoroughly stand your ass outside the door.” He walked away without another word.
Message received.
The east corridor was colder than the rest of the mansion. It didn’t help that I hadn’t slept. Working nights had thrown my system into a tailspin, and now I was dragging through daylight like a hungover vampire. The hallway smelled like furniture polish and stale ambition.
I took my spot outside the office. Thick mahogany doors blocked everything inside, but I didn’t need to see Boone to know he was in there scheming with Gibbs. The two of them had the combined charm of a snake pit. Still, if I played this right, I could finally get what I needed.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
We weren’t supposed to take calls on duty. No one should even have this number.
My gut tightened as I pulled the burner out.
Unknown number.
I stepped to the side and pretended to scratch my temple as I answered quietly. “Hello?”
“Stretch?”
My spine straightened. I turned my back to the door. “What the fuck are you calling this number for?” I snapped, my voice low, and panic threaded through every syllable.
“Pretty sure I’m the one who should be asking you what the fuck you’re doing,” Dice shot back. “You’re fucking working for—”
“Don’t fucking worry about what I’m doing,” I hissed.
“Yeah? Don’t worry, huh? Then I won’t tell you the Banachi are two steps away from taking you fucking out, man.”
Silence.
Dead air.
“The Banachi?” I whispered. “What the hell do they have to do with this?”
“If you were fucking here, you’d know they’re helping us,” Dice growled. “They’re going to clean house. And you, Stretch?” I could hear his exhale over the line. “You’re about to be next.”
I let out a long string of curses under my breath.
This was bad.
You didn’t fuck around with the Banachi and expect to come out clean. Those guys didn’t send warning shots; they sent bodies.
“Get the fuck out of there, man,” Dice ordered. “I’m serious. Ghost out. Drop everything. You stay another minute, you’re done.”
“I can’t,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m in too deep to stop now.”
It wasn’t just about the mission anymore.
It was Tilly.
“You’re not hearing me,” Dice snapped. “The Banachi are going to fucking kill you.”
“I’m not leaving. Not yet.”
Footsteps echoed behind me. Voices.
Shit.
I cupped my hand to the receiver and turned.
Boone and Gibbs.
Their suits were crisp, their smug expressions intact.
“I have to go,” I muttered.
“No, wait, Stretch—”
“Keep the Banachi off my ass,” I cut him off. “You know me, Dice. Don’t call this number again. I’ll call if I need you.”
I ended the call and shoved the burner deep into my pocket.
Boone and Gibbs passed without so much as a glance, their conversation low.
I kept my face blank and nodded when Boone glanced my way.
I trailed behind them until they disappeared into the room at the end of the hall. Boone didn’t bother closing the door behind him.
Adam appeared with a large covered tray balanced expertly in his hands. “They in the den?”
“Not sure what room that is,” I said and nodded to the open door.
“That’s the den.” He smiled and moved past me. He set the tray down on the table just inside the room. I could hear the clink of silverware and low murmurs.
They were talking, but not loud enough.
I needed to get closer. I needed to hear every goddamn word.
I moved to the doorway, and my mind was spinning.
How in the hell did Yarder and the club get connected with the Banachi? They were big time. Way bigger than Boone and his political ratfuck games, I thought.
If the Banachi were involved, shit was going to get bloody. Fast.
I knew the club could handle themselves, but this was different. This was war.
And me?
I was caught in the middle, still undercover.
Still just inches away from the real dirt I needed to bring Boone and Gibbs down.
I couldn’t help but also think about Tilly.
She didn’t know. Didn’t have a clue who she was living with.
She thought Boone was just a high-powered asshole with political greatness in his sights.
She didn’t know the blood on his hands and the people he’d buried.
The club he was trying to destroy.
The Banachi weren’t going to care that she was sweet and clueless when they came in to clean everything up. They weren’t going to pause to ask questions.
I ran a hand over my face.
I had to get closer and finish this once and for all before more innocent people got hurt.
Chapter Fourteen
Tilly
The dining room doors were always propped open when dinner was ready, and now all I had to do was show up, smile, and play the part Boone expected of me.
I adjusted the strap on my dress as I walked toward the open doors. It was a floaty rust-orange wrap dress I’d painted in earlier that week. A streak of ultramarine still stained the hem if you looked too closely. I doubted either of them would notice.
Boone and Gibbs were already seated, with half-glasses of red wine in front of them. Their heads were tipped close together, and their voices were low and confidential.
I paused just before the threshold, smoothed my hand over my hip, and took a breath.
Jake stood in the far corner, by the fireplace tonight. Still as a statue, with his arms crossed and that unreadable expression plastered across his face. I didn’t know how he managed to look both bored and dangerous at the same time.
He looked up, and our eyes caught.
For a split second, the air between us felt… different.
Then he looked away.
“Ah, Tilly,” Boone said and stood as I entered. He buttoned his suit coat with a practiced motion. “You’re right on time.”
I nodded and offered a small smile. “I do try.”
Gibbs didn’t rise. He gave me a flick of his fingers and a nod. “Evening.” It seemed that he was still a little ticked I hadn’t given him a tour last night.
I took my usual seat next to Boone and tried not to glance toward the fireplace again. Jake hadn’t moved an inch, but I could feel his gaze on me.
“Rough day?” I asked lightly and reached for the linen napkin beside my plate.
Boone arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Oh. Wrong tone. Maybe I read the room wrong.
I tucked the napkin across my lap. “I meant… you both looked deep in conversation. Long day?”
Boone relaxed back into his chair. “Ah. Yes. Just tying up loose ends before things ramp up again.”
Gibbs drained the rest of his wine. “The world never stops turning.”
Adam swept in. He set a fresh glass of wine before me and then refilled the one in front of Gibbs. Boone waved him away when he went to refill his glass. Adam left but then returned almost immediately with the first and main courses. The first course was a watercress salad, and the main course was a delicate stack of lamb medallions with something creamy and root-based underneath. Parsnip, maybe. It looked beautiful, like always.
I picked up my fork and forced myself to eat, even though my stomach wasn’t exactly on board tonight.
Boone and Gibbs murmured between bites. Their conversation was too low to make out, though I tried. Mostly I caught phrases like ”leverage”, ”not yet”, and ”waiting for confirmation.” Business. Always business.
I let my eyes drift for just a second to where they really wanted to look.
Jake.
He was facing the table, not the door, but it was clear he wasn’t looking at us. Not really. His eyes were pinned somewhere over Boone’s head, like he was watching a scene only he could see.
Until mine met his again.
He blinked slowly. Just once.
It was nothing.
And yet… it wasn’t.
My fork hovered over the plate. I forced myself to look away.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Boone observed, not unkindly.
“I suppose I am,” I said and sipped my wine. “Just tired.”
“She was up painting last night,” he told Gibbs like I wasn’t in the room. “Probably got lost in her colors again.”
Gibbs chuckled, low and dismissive. “Must be nice to live with that kind of freedom.”
Boone smiled thinly. “Yes. Well. Not everyone is built for pressure.”
My jaw clenched. I smiled anyway. “I like what I do.”
“That’s good,” Boone said. “We all have our roles.”
Jake shifted, a subtle adjustment of weight from one boot to the other.
I noticed.
Dinner continued in awkward silence. Every so often, Boone would murmur something to Gibbs, and Gibbs would grunt in agreement. It was clear I was only here for appearances.
When dessert was brought out, a raspberry tart so perfect it could’ve come from a Paris bakery, I saw Jake’s eyes flicker to the tray.
His jaw tightened. Hungry? Maybe. I remembered Adam mentioning the guards didn’t eat until after Boone and Gibbs were done.
“Would you like something?” I asked before I could stop myself and looked at Jake.
Both Boone and Gibbs turned their heads toward me like I’d suggested setting the place on fire.
Jake’s expression didn’t change. “No, ma’am.”
Ma’am.
My cheeks burned.
“He’s fine,” Boone said firmly. “Our team knows their place.”
I shut my mouth.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. I pushed the tart around my plate and avoided Jake’s eyes after that. What had I been thinking? Offering dessert like we were friends?
Finally, Boone glanced at his watch and stood. “We have a call in fifteen minutes. Tilly, you’ll excuse us.”
I nodded and rose. “Of course.”
I stepped away from the table and moved to the doorway. I felt Jake move behind me before I heard him. A wall of heat and tension.
I paused and turned slightly. “Jake,” I said, quietly.
He didn’t look at me. “Yes, ma’am.”
I swallowed. “Are you okay?”
He blinked once. Slowly. “Just doing my job.”
There was something in his tone. Something just beneath the surface.
I nodded, but I didn’t move.
He did.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Be careful.”
“What?”
His eyes finally met mine. “Just… watch yourself.”
And then he was gone to trail Boone and Gibbs down the hall like a shadow.
I stood frozen for a full minute.
Something was off.
I didn’t know what. Or why.
But whatever was going on in this house… I wasn’t as far outside of it as I’d thought.
Chapter Fifteen
Stretch
I paced the damn length of the room for the tenth time in an hour.
The worn rug beneath my bare feet was doing little to quiet the thud of my steps, and the overhead light was too damn bright, but I hadn’t turned it off because the last thing I needed was to be in the dark with my thoughts.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
Tilly.
Tilly was the problem.
She was crawling under my skin like a damn splinter I couldn’t dig out.
The moment I told her to be careful, I knew I’d fucked up. Not because it wasn’t true—hell, it was more than true—but because I’d possibly opened her eyes to what was going on. I should have just kept my mouth shut. What if she ran to Boone to tell him I had told her to be careful? I was done. One wrong word from her and I’d be strung up by my ankles in the wine cellar, or whatever underground crypt Boone kept for people who crossed him.
I dragged my hand down my face and let out a breath that did nothing to calm me.
It wasn’t just that she was soft when this place was hard. Or that she smiled like she didn’t know what a real threat looked like. It was the way she looked at me, like she saw something worth noticing in a man like me. Like I wasn’t already drowning in lies and blood.
She was a fucking spotlight in a world I was trying to disappear into.
And it was going to get me killed.
I stopped pacing and leaned my forearm against the cool plaster wall. I let my head rest against it, and my eyes squeezed shut.
My phone sat on the nightstand, silent. No texts. No calls. That was a good thing.
And then, a knock.
Sharp. Three taps.
I spun, confused. Jim had told me I was done for the night. I hadn’t expected to see anyone until breakfast.
Cautious, I crossed the room and pulled the door open just enough to peek out.
Tilly.
Her hair was piled high on her head in a messy twist that looked like she’d forgotten about it halfway through styling. She wore a white T-shirt, soft and oversized, with sleeves cuffed up, and black shorts dotted with specks of dried paint in every color imaginable. Her feet were bare on the cool tile, and her eyes were wide.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I rasped.
Her head tilted. “I wanted to talk to you.”
If anyone saw her here, if anyone even whispered that Tilly had been at my door, I was fucked six ways from Sunday.
I grabbed her wrist and yanked her inside as I closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
“There are cameras in the hallway,” I said in a low voice. “If anyone rewinds that tape…”
“They won’t,” she said simply. “Not unless someone gives them a reason.”
She was calm. Completely unbothered.
I wasn’t.
She stood in the middle of my room like she belonged there. Like this wasn’t the single worst idea I’d had in the last five years.
I looked her up and down. Paint-speckled legs, bare feet, her eyes trailing around the room taking it all in.
“Why are you so upset I’m here?” she asked, finally looking at me.
I swallowed. Hard. “Because you shouldn’t be coming to my room in the middle of the night wearing that.”
She looked down at her clothes, then back at me with a smirk. “They’re just my painting clothes.”
“Right,” I said tightly. “That’s the problem.”
She walked slowly around the room and let her fingers trail across the top of the dresser. She wasn’t snooping, just… observing.
“Though honestly,” she continued, “most of my clothes are painting clothes.”
I stood still. Watching. Waiting. Wishing like hell she would turn and walk right back out that door before I ruined everything.
Instead, she turned to me. Her eyes dropped to my chest. I followed her gaze.
Jeans. Button undone. A thin white undershirt, damp around the collar, the fabric clinging to the ink across my ribs. The hem of the shirt was half-tucked, just enough to give her a peek of that open waistband.
Her gaze flicked up to meet mine.
Shit.
I should’ve stepped back.
I didn’t.
“Boone isn’t going to like that you’re in here,” I said, more for my sanity than hers.
She rolled her eyes. “As if Boone has any say over what I do.”
I narrowed my gaze. “If I were Boone, I wouldn’t like you being in here.”
She tilted her head. “You assume he’s possessive, but would you really be that possessive of a stepsister?”
I froze. “Stepsister?” I echoed.
She blinked. “Yeah. Boone’s dad married my mom when I was a kid. You didn’t know that?”
“You live with him,” I said, voice flat. “He’s your stepbrother, and you live here?”
She laughed, light and easy. “Not because I want to. Six months ago, he came to me saying he wanted to make a show of family unity with the election coming up. Said the press might harass me. So he asked me to move in.” She shrugged. “I had my own place. But can you blame me? There’s a chef here. A studio. Drivers. More space than I could ever use. Boone thinks he’s protecting me, but really I’m just here for the perks.”
She gave me a grin like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The knot in my chest came undone.
“Did you think Boone and I were…” She trailed off, and her face went pale. “Oh my god. No. No!” She laughed again, a little more breathlessly this time. “I’m actually a little insulted. Boone isn’t even close to my type.”
