Page 10 of Raw & Reckless

I swallow hard, thinking back. “He said the world was dangerous. That local schools were cesspools.”

“Maybe some are,” Phoenix concedes reasonably. “But isolating you didn’t just keep you safe from the world—it kept you entirely dependent on him. It kept you from forming friendships, from talking to teachers or counselors or anyone who could have helped you process losing your parents in a healthy way. It denied you a normal childhood.”

The truth of his words stings, but he doesn't stop there.

“And what about a car or a driver’s license?” Phoenix prompts gently. “I can’t imagine that going over well.”

A bitter memory surfaces. “He refused to sign the registration slip for Driver’s Ed. He said everything I need is right at home. I guess he used that excuse a lot, now that I think about it.” I pause thoughtfully, then continue. “He accused me of trying to run away and ditch him. When I pushed back, he called me an ungrateful bitch, spitting in the face of our parents’ memory and every sacrifice he made.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “His words hurt worse than any bruises.”

“That wasn’t protection, Layla,” Phoenix says, his voice thick with quiet fury. “That was control. A car means freedom. He didn't want you to have an escape route.”

I let out a shaky breath, a wry, tired smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “I guess a car gives you freedom.”

Phoenix lets out a low, gravelly chuckle, a smirk ghosting across his lips in the dark. “Not as much freedom as being on the back of a bike, but it’s a damn good step in the right direction.”

His expression turns instantly serious. He shifts onto his side, cupping my cheek with one of his massive, calloused hands, tilting my face up so I have no choice to look into his soul-searching green eyes. I feel myself melt under his intense, worshipful gaze.

“Protection isn’t about control,” he tells me, every word ringing with absolute, unshakeable conviction. “It’s not about keeping someone locked away in a cage so the world never touches them. Do I understand your brother’s primal instinct to hide you away from harsh realities and danger? Sure I do. I’m protective and possessive as hell when it comes to you, Layla.” He smiles down at me, though his eyes are serious. “But I never, ever want to clip your wings. I want to support you, show you how to handle yourself, while still guarding your precious heart with my life. I’ll be by your side, always, not to control or manipulate you, but to watch you grow into the person you were always meant to be. I want to see you thrive, Layla.”

My breath hitches. Our lips are inches apart now, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of my lips.

“Why are you so good to me?” I whisper, the question tearing straight from my soul.

Phoenix brushes the tip of his nose against mine, his gaze softening into something devastatingly tender. “One day, Moonflower, you won’t question your worth.”

A watery smile breaks across my face, but I narrow my eyes playfully at him. “Wait. You still never told me what that nickname actually means.”

He chuckles softly, resting his forehead against mine. “My mother used to grow moonflowers in our yard back on the island. Beautiful blue and purple blooms, much like your eyes. They crawled up the heavy wooden trellis and just kept climbing, refusing to quit. And while their petals look soft and delicate to anyone just walking past... once those moonflowers take root, they can weather just about any storm that rolls in off the ocean.”

My eyes water, a deep, aching warmth flooding my chest. Before a single tear can fall, I lean forward and close the remaining distance, pressing my lips to his.

Phoenix responds instantly. He starts gently, keeping it slow and sweet, letting me taste him at my own pace. But the second I let out a soft sigh against his mouth, a low groan tears from his throat. He deepens the kiss, licking across my lower lip and dipping his tongue inside my mouth.

I gasp against him, my hands flying up to grip his broad shoulders as liquid heat floods my veins. I can’t believe a man like him, a lethal, towering, sexy, tatted enforcer, wants me this way, too.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing heavily, our chests heaving against one another. The kiss ends all too soon, but he doesn't let me go. He tucks me securely back into his side, pressing a warm kiss to my hair and promising softly that we’ll pick right back up tomorrow.

I nod against his chest, a profound sense of peace washing over me as I drift back off to sleep, feeling his large, steady hand stroking up and down my back.

7

PHOENIX

Sunlight cuts across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, painting long, pale lines through the dust motes dancing in the air.

I stand by the counter with my coffee mug in one hand, the burner phone pressed tight against my ear. Across the line, Stryker’s gravelly voice fills the quiet, laying down updates on the club’s countermeasures.

“We swept the docks, Phoenix,” Stryker rumbles, his tone carrying the cold weight of absolute authority. “The syndicate is scrambling. They thought they could use the feds to crush us while they slipped their own operatives through the cracks. They’ve got another thing coming.”

“And the bastard Onyx knocked out?” I ask, keeping my eyes fixed down the hallway toward the closed bedroom door where Layla is still sound asleep.

“Onyx is working on him now,” Stryker answers. A beat of static passes before the phone changes hands, and Onyx’s low rumble takes over.

“The piece of shit tried to hold out,” Onyx grunts flatly, the sound of a distant metal chair scraping against concrete bleeding through the receiver. “But I had some convincing methods to get him to open up. He gave up three local drop points and a pair of names tied directly to the international syndicate.”

“We’re tracking them down today,” Stryker adds. “The club’s locked down tight. You and your woman are safe out there.”

I don’t correct him. I don’t deny the title. My woman. The words settle into my bones with terrifying, absolute permanence.