Page 4 of Dukes of Peril

I feel his head turn more than I see it. “Remy?”

There’s a grunt, and then Remy’s wry, “No caveman kiss for me, huh? I see how it is.”

Nick bends, hooking an arm behind my knees, and suddenly I’m hoisted right up into his arms. “Can you walk?”

Remy and I both answer, “Yes,” but only my response is laced with indignation.

Nick just gives me a jostle, cradling me tightly against his chest. “Maybe you can, Little Bird, but you won’t.”

I know better than to argue, and even if I wasn’t exhausted, his warm, strong body feels so good to rest against. He carries me through the knee-deep water, and I can feel the power of his muscles and tendons against me, shifting beneath his skin. Just the scent of his neck is enough to make the memory of the last time I saw him–naked and sated and happy–slam to the forefront of my mind.

I physically have to force myself to let go when we reach the side of the boat, the water up to Nick’s stomach as he hands me over to his brother’s waiting hands. Sy clutches for me, hauling me easily against his own chest, and I get my first glimpse of him since the morning before.

He’s practically buzzing with energy.

“I told you I’d come back,” he says. The wounds between us are still raw. There hadn’t been time for healing, just an uneasy truce. But it’s the second time he’s held me like this, scared and on the run from a deranged Forsyth King. Sy is there when I need him. I can admit that.

I hold his gaze. “And I told you I’d bring him back to you.”

Something complicated passes over Sy’s face, but before I can parse it, he’s pressing a kiss to my forehead, lips so warm against my cold skin that it feels like a brand.

So low that I can barely hear the words, he says, “Thank you.”

After lowering me into a bench seat, he quickly wraps a blanket around my shoulders, pulling it so tight that it nearly chokes. I get this macabre moment of clarity that they didn’t know which purpose this blanket would serve when they brought it. The thought of it being used to wrap up my lifeless body makes me shudder, and Sy crouches down to rub some quick warmth into my arms.

“You okay?” His eyes darken, rising over my head. He’s not asking me.

“Fuck.” The boat tips from Remy’s weight and he stumbles into one of the cushioned seats, collapsing like a sack of rocks. “I’ve been better.” After a beat, he quietly adds, “I’ve been worse.”

Sy’s jaw tightens. “Head check?”

I twist just as Remy throws his head back, releasing a jarring, maniacal laugh. “Brother, we’re so far past being able to use a number system for this shit. But yeah, I’ll give you a number. Negative six.” He dips his head, mouth quirking. “Thousand.” Sy rises, as if he could even do anything about Remy’s current mental state, but Remy waves him off. “Trust me. Nothing that a hot shower, a beer, and a nice hit of Scratch can’t fix.”

I don’t miss the look Nick shoots Sy when that word comes out of Remy’s chattering mouth. Scratch.Viperscratch. It’s North Side’s most insidious creation, a potent drug that has spread throughout Forsyth’s frat scene. My father has always been in the drug trade, but something about Viper Scratch is next level. He’s not just trying to make money, he’s working on eliminating his enemies. Two birds, one addictive stone.

It’s impossible to know if Remy’s joking, but Sy tosses him a second blanket while Nick climbs back in the boat, which sags a lot less with Remy and Sy on the other side. He manages to bring in half the river in his soggy jeans, soaking the floor in the process. His eyes are wild, ticking over me again and again as he readies the boat for departure.

“You got the coordinates?” Sy asks, drawing his attention away.

“Yeah,” Nick says, approaching the wheel. There’s a small box on the console, a pistol sitting beside it. I hear the beeps as he enters numbers into the GPS. He cranks the engine, and it rumbles under the surface, churning up water.

“Everybody ready?” he asks, making sure we’re secure.

“Y-y-yes,” I reply, teeth chattering. Nick gives me one last, long look, before he aligns the boat and heads across water.

Remy pulls the edge of my blanket over his shoulder and drags me close. “My dad—” he yells over the roar of the boat’s motor.

“He’s the Baron King,” Nick shouts back, sparing him a quick glance. “I believe you. I always believed you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Sy says, squeezing next to me. He throws an arm over my shoulder, but extends it far enough to reach Remy, sharing his warmth. “I should have been there.” One glance at his stony face reveals that Sy’s probably been beating himself up about this all day, all night. “It was fucking stupid.”

Remy shakes his head, huddling closer until we’re both snug against Sy. “You know, you’re actually allowed to have your own breakdown on occasion.”

“Not like this,” he says, cutting his blue eyes at me. It’s only a split second, but I get a glimpse of all the emotions swirling within them. Guilt, anger, humiliation.

“Are you still my girl?”

He’d asked me that yesterday before leaving to find Nick, and I’d never answered. I didn’t know how to, and I still find a painful clench in my chest where the answer should be. This thing I’m doing with Nick–letting him in, allowing myself to accept whatever twisted love he might have for me and trusting that he won’t use it to hurt me again–it’s an experiment in forgiveness that’s still up in the air. The thought of having to do it again for Sy–fuck, forRemy–makes my stomach turn anxiously.

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