The Finish Line (The Ravenhood, #3)

by Kate Stewart

Entertain Mr. Handsome? I tame the surge of fire that threatens and decide not to start our morning conversation with “Who the fuck is Mr. Handsome?”

“No matter how we came to be, we were and still are. You stole my heart, and you let me love you with it, and you made damn sure I knew where its home was.”

“I’m not leaving you. Not today, not tomorrow, and not the day after. Hell will freeze over. I’ll eat a McRib first.”

“You’ve always been mine. I’ve had protective eyes on you since you were eleven years old, Cecelia, no matter how I felt about you. Maybe I deserved the hell those weeks were not knowing, but there will never be a time in your life you’re not under my protection. I failed you once, and I’ll do everything in my fucking power not to fail you again. Believe me, by the time I arrived yesterday, I made every effort to make sure you had no one but me coming for you.”

“You are never to disappear on me again.”

“I will kill anyone who threatens you. Anyone. I will fucking end them, Cecelia. I won’t think twice, and I won’t lose sleep over it.”

“He was sincere about the gift, Cecelia. Dom would have wanted you to have it, but no matter how this works out between us, we’re always going to protect you. Always. That’s not debatable.”

I live here. Where you are is home.

“I gave up the only life I’ve known for over twenty years and most everything that had anything to do with it, to come here just for a chance to be with you again.”

“I gave up control,” I counter. “Which is the hardest fucking thing for a man like me to do.” I step forward, and this time she doesn’t step back. I cup her face, her cheeks ice cold. “Because I want this, more than anything else. I want this, you, us.”

“What hurts you hurts me. There’s more to say.”

“How do you know that?” he asks, tilting his head the way Papa used to. “I read books. Books make you smart.” “Then I’ll read books,” he says, “lots of books. And I’m going to get stronger. And smart, and then nobody can be mean to me ever again.”

I ran all the way home, my heart pounding more out of fear than the run because I wasn’t sure. Three locks clicking, three twists of the handle. Three checks on him before I leave. It’s the only way to be sure. “I have to get back to him.”

“A girl. I was thinking of naming her Leann.” I wrinkle my nose, and she doesn’t miss it. She lets out a light laugh.

Mama always said never to let a woman dry her tears alone and never be the reason for them,

“No. Dominic’s sick.” “He doesn’t look sick.” Sean stares at us both, running his nails down his arms, and that’s when I spot the blistering dots on his arms, face, and neck. I open my mouth to speak when Dom shoots up from his bed and points at him. “Sean! You’re the culprit!”

Day one, Tobias. Day one. No dead bodies on day one.

She’s completely clueless to the attention she’s getting. Or is she? Her to-do list makes that theory shit, but she won’t be fucking to-doing Greg. Not to-fucking-ever.

“I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?” Logged into a new email account, I click to compose while keeping my tone even. “The first time I saw her, she was eleven.” They both turn to me, but I continue typing, not sparing a glance at either one of them. “She was nothing but a little girl, but she was mine to protect from this fucked-up world. Mine to look out for. Mine to care for.” “Tobias,” Cecelia hisses in warning. “She came in later like a fucking wrecking ball and obliterated the image of the little girl I remembered. I claimed her then as mine to have, mine to touch, mine to possess, fucking mine.” Cecelia shuts her eyes, fisting her hands on the counter. I lift my eyes to Greg, who looks like he’s about to shit his silk boxers. “And so, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop fucking looking at my future as if she may be yours. The answer is no, Greg, she won’t be dining with you.” Greg nods. “I apologize, I really had no idea. She isn’t wearing a ring.” I tap the mousepad to open a new email. “Leave your address, and we’ll send you a save the date.”

“Has Cecelia got you?” she asks in a sickly-sweet voice. “By the balls,” I mutter, shooting off the email.

It wasn’t until the day I witnessed how they loved her, the way Sean and Dom loved her, that I became acquainted with that type of bone-deep jealousy. And in feeling that, I lost control.

I want her happy. I want our ending happy. That’s what I decide as I watch her interact with the people in her café. I want her smiling about thoughts of us before she ever greets a stranger. I will do everything, anything, to make our ending blissful.

It’s me. Sean: Me who? Funny. Sean: I’ll shoot the number out to the crew. The bubbles start and stop. I pause when I read his message. Sean: How’s it going? Do you give a fuck? Sean: Of course, I give a fuck. Report. She’s fine. She’s good. Really good. She bought a café. It’s nice. Her house is too. She’s doing the daily grind. Sean: Knew that already. What about you? I read the text again. A question I didn’t expect. When he, correction, when Tessa invited me to their wedding, I thought maybe then we might start to repair what was broken between us, but even then, things were off. The day we buried Dom, he looked at me like he hated me. And I know he did. This olive branch he’s extending feels just as foreign as my position in my new life. I’m at the mercy of the people I hurt.

Sean: It’s weird, huh? You have no idea. Sean: I have some idea. Wait until you go from Maverick to married with three kids. Two kids. Sean: Three. Found out this morning. Congrats, man. Sean: You going to have any? I just starved half a day to make sure she didn’t poison my sandwich. I think I’ll table that conversation for later.

Thanks, man. Sean: Anytime. You mean that? The bubbles pop up and disappear, and a minute later, he replies. Sean: I do.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day, and if I did it once we stepped inside this house, I don’t know if I could stop myself. I’m okay with not being a gentleman because that’s not who I am and not who you love. Asking permission to kiss you? Never going to fucking happen.”

Sean sits on his twin bed, pouring some of Delphine’s vodka into a flask before replacing the booze with his water bottle. Caught red-handed, he gives me a mischievous grin and lifts a shoulder. “What? I’ve been doing this for months. It keeps her less drunk and more hydrated.”

“What did I tell you Papa said?” “When you love someone, it’s never a question you have to ask yourself.” I nod. “But even if you don’t, you treat them well. There’s no need to act like a dick, even if you’re thinking with it.”

“You want a prime example of what the wrong man can do to a woman?” I jerk my chin toward Delphine’s bedroom. “Take a good fucking look at your aunt.”

“Don’t disrespect women, period. They’re twice as evolved as most men will ever be. Don’t take your shit out on them, either. It’s a sign of weakness, and they aren’t punching bags. They’re a sanctuary, and you need to figure that out quick.”

I did this. I will undo this. Sidling up on the edge of the bed, I lean over and kiss her temple, and she barely rouses before sinking back into her dream state. “Dis-moi contre qui me battre, et je me battrai jusqu’à ce qu’ils disparaissent.” Tell me who to fight. I will fight until they all go away. It’s when tears start to coat her cheeks that I gently lift her to my chest, her arms limp at her sides. “Dis-moi comment réparer cela. Dis-moi, mon amour. Je ferai n’importe quoi.” Tell me how to fix this. Tell me, my love. I’ll do anything. Another sob escapes her as she comes to, and I hold her tightly to me to try and keep her grounded. “Ce n’est qu’un rêve, Trésor. Je suis là. Je suis là.” Just a dream, treasure. I’m here. I’m here.

“Ce rêve dans lequel nous sommes tous les deux. Emmène-moi avec toi.” This dream we go into together. Take me with you.

“Why gin?” I ask him, sliding into the leather seat. “Brown liquor brings out the worst in men.” He takes the seat opposite me. “That’s what my dad says—well, what he used to say.”

And since we strolled in just past midnight, bellies full of the finest French cuisine and expensive wine—that I immediately acquired a taste for—we’ve

“The way I see it, there are bad men capable of doing bad things, and then there are good men capable of doing bad things for good fucking reasons.” He looks at me pointedly. “You’re one of those.” “Which are you?” “Incapable of being either. Eventually, I’m going to be a man in need of guys like you.”

similar to the one destroyed at the restaurant months ago. “I guess I’ll always be the girl crying for the moon.” Opening the small book, I thumb a few pages and palm my head when I see the main character’s name. “Why did you name it Meggie’s?” “It’s a long story.” “Do I know it?” “Intimately and from afar.”

It’s obvious she compares herself to Meggie and our own story to the one inside the pages. I’ll memorize the fucking thing if it means so much to her.

I grab the bottle of lotion sitting next to it, uncap it and inhale. Immediately I’m hit with the familiarity and one of the triggers of my addiction to her, her scent. Reading the label, it dawns on me why. Juniper Berry. No wonder I’m addicted to her smell. I drink the contents of her scent nightly. In. My. Fucking. Gin. “Well played, queen,” I muse, capping her lotion and closing the cabinet.

“Good afternoon, Mr. President. How’s the big White House treating you?”

“That’s another reason for my call. I wanted to assure you that I’ll work tirelessly and have the country’s best interests at heart.” “No doubt you do, sir.” He cuts the shit. “Been a long time since prep, hasn’t it, King?”

Preston Monroe doesn’t need micro-managing, and Tyler has been preparing for this since he joined the Marines.

Her little boy, who looks to be around seven or eight, climbs out of the booth, watching our exchange with interest. Tobias leans down and whispers to him, and he giggles before he speaks up, mimicking Tobias perfectly. “Le pleck, le spit.”

“Condom or knife?”

The press of a gun being cocked at my temple brings that knowledge home. Mother, greet me. Father, keep me.

The devil is in the details, and I remember my devil well.

I can’t walk away from you again, I can’t push you away again, and I never will, but you can order me away. If that’s your decision, I’ll respect it, because Cecelia, there’s a very real chance you could die for loving me, and I can only promise to try to keep you safe.” It only takes her a second to nod before she straightens in her seat. “Like I said, I made the decision a long time ago, Tobias. Let’s go.”

Being granted the first move is seen by some as an advantage. I consider it my advantage. With that one move, I can often tell whether my opponent is aggressive or not. Do make the first move, Ezekiel. I am quite curious to see.

“Did you have another bad day?” “No, not really.” He seems to search his thoughts before his face lights up. “Did you know there is a show about treasure hunters who bid on stranger’s storage rooms? Incredible what they find!” He slaps his thigh and widens his eyes with pure delight. “This we can binge-watch together.” He’s truly excited about this prospect, and it’s all I can do to keep from buckling with laughter.

In all my plans to bring him down, I never considered bystanders. I’ve seen the carnage that comes in wars like these, mostly territorial, and I refuse to let that innocent kid suffer for her father’s mistakes.

“This is another reason why I called this meeting. You want a girlfriend? Have one, but pillow talk and this fucking club are never to go hand in hand. What the other birds do is not my business, but as far as we are concerned, women don’t have a place at this fire, not yet. And not until they are vetted by me personally. End of.”