Page 33 of Borden 3

“You were gone today,” she said next, biting gently at his bruised bottom lip. He had a nasty cut there from when she’d bitten him during one of their fiendish fucks. The bruises were starting to blur together.

“Sorting out loose ends,” Borden said vaguely.

She studied him for a few moments, like she was deciding whether to push for answers or not. He grabbed her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, smiling pleasantly at her, though his mind flashed through the images of alleyway slayings he was not responsible for.

Strange shit was happening, but it was under control. His men and the Warlords were already on it. “Probably just a turf war,” Hector had grumbled that morning. “You know how it fucking is, Borden. Best they get distracted with each other than continue to fuck with us.”

Borden knew, but he didn’t care. “Just put out the fucking fire, Hector. I don’t want to see any of that shit in my city.”

Hector assured him he would.

When they were ready to leave, Emma kissed Link goodbye. “You be good for Granny, alright?”

As she kissed him again, Borden smirked at Darlene. She looked relieved, pursing her lips in what he swore was a smile. It’d been years and every encounter was a chance at winning the old bag over. He was getting there, bit by precious bit. But fuck him, he’d never underestimate the grudge an old lady could hold. She made it clear she would always hate him, but since Link was born, she had finally learned to tolerate Borden’s presence.

Before he stepped out, Darlene couldn’t help but pull him aside and whisper, “Put that dummy phone on silent. You pay your wife attention, Borden.”

“You never have to tell me that,” he sharply replied.

“I’m not saying you don’t, but…” Darlene’s eyes flashed with a hint of concern, her words trailing.

“No dummy phone,” he promised.

On his way out, he shoved his phone into Hector’s hands.

Hector pocketed it.

Chapter Twelve

Emma

I held my champagne flute, smiling at the rich old man as he regaled tales of his accomplishments. It was the same shit at every charity event. I was here for the cause (in this case, for the underfunded schools in the Bellevue district of New Raven). The money raised would go to grants and extracurricular clubs for the underprivileged; at the schools, we were funding the breakfast clubs and making sure kids had free electronics so they weren’t left behind in today’s digital world.

So, while I was definitely here for the cause, the rich donors were here to big note themselves. It often descended into a pissing contest about who had the bigger yacht and what new building development was in the works. In other words, they did everything but unload their dicks out to see who had the biggest one. Borden was really good at tolerating this shit. Being the “King” of New Raven, he didn’t have to be here, but he was doing this for me.

Because it mattered to me.

I watched him from across the large hall. He was dressed in a black suit. It hugged every inch of him and left very little to the imagination. It boggled my mind at times how utterly ripped he was. He put his body through the paces. Never once eased back. Borden was the most disciplined man I had ever met. He had never faltered, either. He mastered his routine, paying himself first in the mornings with a hard workout and a large meal. He went to work with this laser focus that was impossible to break. For the first couple years, I had stopped going to the office regularly to look after Lincoln, and my lack of presence only reinforced his ability to dominate both the legal world and the underbelly of New Raven.

He needed me out of the picture to get away with more than he was letting on. This was not lost on me. This also bothered me more than I wanted it to.

Lately, with my hours slowly growing at work, I was seeing the signs. I was also understanding just how fragile this city was. It slowly was falling apart.

Borden was talking to a business acquaintance, this cool edge in his expression that made the men around him full of anxiety. Still an asshole. Still intimidating. I bit my lip to suppress my smile as I continued to roam the room. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the large, familiar form of a biker that had encroached on our world a long time ago and never left it.

Sometimes, I liked to pretend that things hadn’t changed. That Hawke was still around the corner, watching me. That Greame was waiting to pick me up. That my protectors were diligent and passionate about their job to ensure that both Borden and I were okay. My heart clenched.

Those days were gone.

I twisted my head, my eyes catching brown eyes that didn’t belong to Hawke, but to his brother, Hector. He didn’t approach me, but he always lingered closeby, making sure I wasn’t far enough away to answer an emergency. He wasn’t in his biker garb. He was wearing suit pants and a black dress shirt. His black hair was slicked back, his beard trimmed. Like Borden, he was intimidating as hell, but the women couldn’t resist him.

Hector never looked at them.

Something…odd happened to Hector. Nobody liked to talk about it. The infamous manwhore had left the Warlords and was attached to Borden’s hip the last two years. In that time, I never saw him live a life outside Borden.

I tried not to dwell on it. Whatever happened was his prerogative. I couldn’t look at him without thinking of Hawke and missing Hawke and…Graeme, too.

I coolly looked away, determined not to connect to him in any way. He had tried at the start, making friendly conversation, but I shut him down straight away. I wasn’t interested in getting to know Hector. He wasn’t like Hawke. Hawke was the President of the Warlords now, and he was married to a good woman. Infatuated with her, in fact. It still blew my mind that Tyler was that girl who had lived right under him the whole time, destined to be his soulmate, and he hadn’t known it.

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