Talon (Uncompromising #1)(2)

My hand tightened around the glass.

He kept talking like I wanted to hear the shit that was coming out of his mouth. “I trust you with my life, brother, but this isn’t you. Respect her memory.”

“What the fuck do you know ’bout respect?” He’d never been married. He’d never scattered his wife’s ashes. I didn’t want to respect her memory. I wanted five goddamn minutes when I didn’t feel crushing grief.

André looked at me with pity and I wanted to slam his face into the tiled patio.

He shook his head. “I know you got no respect for the life you’ve been living.”

The waitress reappeared at my side and smiled. “I got off a little early.” Her hand feathered across my arm and settled in the crook of my elbow.

Fuming, my chest tight, I looked down and her features blurred into the sea of nameless women I’d fucked over the past two years. I shook her arm off. “Somethin’ came up.”

Her face twisted in confusion. “But I—”

“But nothin’.” Fuck her, fuck André, fuck the whole wedding party. I shoved my hand in my pocket and grabbed my keys as I strode toward the parking lot.

“Wait,” she called.

Already halfway to my car, I ignored her. I got in my Challenger and drove the seven-hour drive home.





TIRED AS FUCK, I STARED out the front window of my surf shop at the blonde across the street.

Kendall smirked. “She’s been out there since yesterday. You going to talk to her?”

I turned and took in my employee’s tight leather lace-up top. If I didn’t think she’d gut me in my sleep, I would’ve nailed her long ago. “Who you talkin’ ’bout?” I played dumb.

“Don’t pull that shit with me.” Kendall put her red-painted fingernail on the front window and tapped the glass. “She’s been parked in the same spot since yesterday afternoon and that…is not a purse.” She pointed at the small duffel next to Nicole’s feet. “That’s an I-left-my-man bag.”

Fuck. She was probably right. Nicole’s boyfriend was an asshole. He worked at the shop where I took my bike. He was a decent mechanic but I’d seen him out at enough bars to know Randy was a fucking tool when he drank. If he wasn’t starting a fight, he was mouthing off to someone. I’d never figured how he’d scored someone as sweet as Nicole. “Maybe she’s just gettin’ a little sun. Nothin’ wrong with a beach day.”

“First of all, I know you’re not that stupid. And second, a beach day would entail a towel and a bikini and your feet actually hitting the sand, not parking your ass on the beach wall.” Kendall threw her hands up. “But if you want to be a dick and not help her…” She trailed off and sauntered back toward the register.

Goddamn it. I didn’t want to deal with this shit. I’d driven all night to get home and minus a quick stop at my house for a shower, I’d come straight to work. All I wanted to do was finish the surfboard I was working on, catch some waves, and get a decent night’s sleep. I needed to forget about women, all women, including the one with her back to me, sitting on the beach wall looking lost as hell. As if she’d heard me, Nicole wrapped her arms around her stomach and shivered.

“Shit. It’s eighty-five degrees out,” I muttered.

Kendall looked up from taking inventory. “It’s Florida. Your point?”

“Nothin’,” I snapped, walking back to my office. I grabbed my keys and my 9mm, tucking it into my back waistband and pulling my T-shirt over it. For once I was glad I was in jeans instead of board shorts.

“Expecting trouble?” Kendall smirked.

It was a stupid question. She knew Nicole’s boyfriend. If Randy was around, there was trouble. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s what everyone says—right before they take a bullet between the eyes.”

Anyone else saying those words, it would’ve been a warning. But Kendall followed it with a smile that was one hundred percent meant to rile.

I pushed past her. “Watch the shop.”

Her voice went sugary sweet. “Gee, Kendall, can you please look after my store while I run out and play hero? I know you’re here more than me but I really appreciate it. You’re such a good friend and employee to have.” Then she dropped the pretense and yelled, “You don’t pay me enough!”

She was probably right. “Buy yourself lunch. Take it out of the register.” Sunglasses on, I stepped out into the humid morning.

I crossed the street and five paces away, I knew something was wrong. Nicole wasn’t hugging herself, she was cradling her arm. Her hair disheveled, her T-shirt stained and ripped, there was mottling all over the back of her neck.