Page 68 of Recurve Ridge

No, I’d learned nothing from last time.

After I’d been caught eavesdropping before, I made it as far as Robe’s bed, where I’d lain on my back for a precise ten seconds before I dashed to the en suite and puked up the horrendous mix of alcohol and coffee Alan had stuffed into my all-too-willing body. I doubted the oak door had prevented any sound from traveling through, though my whiskey-soaked pride couldn’t be bothered to be offended at the time. I couldn’t hold my drink like in my early twenties anymore.

A situation I needed to remedy in order to keep up with these boys and their testosterone battles.

Keeping the longevity of my kidneys in mind, or maybe not so much, I pressed closer to the door, the heavy barrier muffling their conversation and obstructing my view while I attempted to not-so-subtly eavesdrop. Robe had caught me listening at doors once already and threatened my safety with him. I couldn’t imagine how he would react to a second offense.

I peered through the slit illuminated by the windows on either side of the open doorway. Thealwaysopen doorway. I swore that door never closed. Why leave it open when Robe and Miller seemed so concerned about insurgents, or whatever nasties that went hump and bump in the night that scared this family of giant, tough guys?

And I knew they were scared. Their straight backs and tense jaws said as much when they looked outside that door and were all the more so when one of them was traveling.

When they thought I forgot to look for the person missing from our midst.

So why not get locks and close the damn things? And this one too. Which would put an abrupt end to my current habit.

I fixed my attention on each man in the room who I could see or sense. Jon with his deep voice and tempered passion appeared to be hiding near the window outside my range of view. Alan stood at the bar as per usual, fidgeting with everything and nothing in an attempt to keep his hands busy instead of fluttering over everything.

Will munched on toast at the small table. He alone appeared calm, though his eyes darted side to side in a continual dance between bodies, as if gauging their intentions. As far as I knew, Will was the least threatening of all Robe’s odd little patched-together family unit.

Opposite the entrance door, Miller folded his arms, mashing giant muscles against his barrel chest, and Robe surveyed the group, turning in circles and exuding authority while seeming like nothing more than a charismatic entertainer pitching his wares.

I stopped listening.

A few scant months ago, I’d stood in a similar position, watching the boys before me work and debate over life and deadly matters with little obstruction except for me, from whom they maintained a safe distance. Safe being a relative term relating to both physical and emotional fronts.

The difference was that nowIcould readthem.

How far we have come.

Alan talked over Robe for a moment, but in the cacophony of voices, I missed what they were arguing over. The dissent in Robe’s volume and the way Alan leaned across the bar top, one hand extended, made their positions clear. Dark eyes were raised to meet clear ocean blue, a show of disobedience and a challenge to authority.

Their clash, laced with passion on both sides, flushed me with heat. I didn’t need to hear what they were saying to deduce what theyweren’t.

Ever since that day in Robe’s bathroom with Alan, things had… changed. Robe’s sense of security remained, but he reined in any physical response whenever I pushed him or bratted out, especially when he called me out on it.

And apart from a few occasions in desperate need, Alan barely touched me. Even his flirting took a back seat. The status quo hadn’t been reset; itreversed.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside as too complicated to untangle.

“Do you want to stay, Mari Merripen? Because if you do, I cannot allow you to leave.”

Robe’s seductive words rolled around inside my head, bouncing off emotions I’d thought were long dead. But the temptation—thetease—remained. Since I’d lived in his household for my short version of eternity, then surely I’d earned the right to know what sort of man—what sort ofmen—I shared a living space with.

That’s how I chose to justify my actions, in any case. The Brit inside me roared her approval.For king and country—but of course, I had no homeland. Just me and Robe and his men—all of them.

His words whispered against my ears again. I swiped the fantasy away. He wasn’t evenhere, for heaven’s sake.

Forcing my focus forward instead of inward, I concentrated on what the boys talked about, glancing around to ensure they were all still in the same positions I’d noted before.

Jon’s easier tone interrupted my little stalker session.

“… packing, but nothing in any of the accounts has changed.”

“Which means he has a different channel I can’t fucking well see.” Frustration laced Alan’s voice, the deep sort that rarely entered our interactions when he spoke to me.

“He’s gotten wise to us, then.” Jon echoed Alan’s irritation.

“We counted on that.” Robe’s smooth voice coiled through me like good Italian coffee. He rubbed a hand over his beard, his thinking gesture. I’d previously suspected the action hid his expression; now I wondered if the damn thing just itched. “So we find another way into the accounts.”

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