Page 24 of Charging Dodge

I feel a chill sweep through me that has nothing to do with the air conditioning. I wrap my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together. The idea of someone watching us, lurking in the shadows while I was trying to keep Carter, Amelia, and Noah safe, makes me feel sick. “Why?” I whisper. “We don't have anything. We’re just trying to survive.”

Dodge shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “He claims you’ve got something. Or the kids do. He didn't have the specifics, but he gave up a name. A fixer in the city named Vance. This guy thinks there’s a payday attached to your family, and he’s not going to stop until he gets it or until I stop him.”

I look away, my mind racing through every memory of our flight, every bag we packed. We don't have anything valuable. No money, no jewelry, nothing but old photos and the clothes on our backs. “We don't have anything, Dodge. I’d know if we did. It doesn't make any sense.”

“It doesn't have to make sense to us for it to be real to them,” he counters, his tone turning even darker. He reaches out and grabs my upper arms, his grip firm but not painful. He forces me to look at him, to see the resolve etched into every line of his face. “I’m not letting this go. I’m not waiting for them to send someone else to my front door.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask, though I already know the answer. I can see it in the way he’s already checking his watch, the way his mind is already miles down the road at some intersection I’ve never seen.

“I’m heading out later tonight,” he declares. He lets go of my arms and starts pacing again, the adrenaline from the warehouse still clearly pumping through his veins. “I’ve got a location on this Vance character. He’s meeting someone at midnight near Warner. I’m going to be there when he shows up, and I’m going to get the rest of the story out of him.”

Fear flares up in my chest, hot and demanding. I grab the front of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. “Dodge, you can't just go charging in there. You don't know what you’re walking into. If this Vance guy is a fixer, he’s going to have people with him. It’s a trap. It has to be.”

He looks down at my hands, then back at my face, and for a second, the anger softens into something else. He covers my hands with his own, his skin warm and rough. “I’m not going alone. I’ve got my brothers with me. We know how to handle ourselves, Adalynn. I’ve spent my whole life dealing with people like this. I’m the one they should be worried about, not the other way around.”

“I don't care about them,” I snap, my eyes stinging. “I care about you. If something happens to you, we’re done. I can't keep Carter, Amelia, and Noah safe on my own anymore. I’m exhausted, Dodge. I’m so damn tired of running.”

He draws me into him, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my hair. I can feel the steady beating of his heart against my cheek, and for a moment, I let myself lean into his strength. “That’s why I’m going,” he murmurs against my temple. “So you don't have to run anymore. I’m going to finish this tonight so you can all breathe again.”

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “I’m leaving Hulk here. He’s going to be on the porch the whole time I’m gone. He knows the stakes, and he’s the best man I’ve got for a defensive line. He’s going to watch over you, Carter, Amelia, and Noah. Nobody gets past him. Do you understand?”

I nod, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. Hulk is a giant of a man, and I trust him, but he isn't Dodge. “I understand,” I repeat, my voice trembling. “Just promise me you’ll come back. I don't give a damn about answers if you don't make it home.”

Leaning down, he hovers for a moment before he presses a hard, fast kiss to my lips that tastes like desperation. “I’m coming back,” he vows, his voice a low growl that leaves no room for doubt.

He starts to pull away, head tilting back as focus returns to his eyes, but retreat isn't an option. Reaching up, my hands grip the collar of his cut and pull him right back down. He stumbles an inch, caught off guard by the sudden aggression, but he doesn't fight it. A groan vibrates in his throat as my lips touch his, his hands slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

The kiss changes then as the desperation and the adrenaline of the mission fade, replaced by something slow and deliberate. A grounding force spreads through a room that feels like it’s spinning out of control. His mouth moves over mine, firm and demanding, and the fight against my own instincts finally stops. Melting into him feels natural.

A jolt of clarity steals my breath, exposing just how much lying to myself has become a habit. These last few weeks have been spent playing it cool, keeping a wall between us out of a misguided sense of safety. Protecting the kids meant keeping my guard up, telling myself that avoiding deep feelings was the best way to dodge future heartbreak.

Standing here, feeling the heat radiating off his body and the thrum of his heart against my own, that logic feels brittle and weak. If he walks out that door and doesn't return, all the walls in the world won't save me from falling apart. Worries about losing him later have only served to lose him right now, every single day, by holding back the truth of what feels real. It’s a foolish gamble, betting on a future that might not exist while ignoring the person standing right in front of me.

He pulls back just a few inches, forehead resting against mine. Breathing hard, his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me feel exposed. “You okay?” he mutters the question, his voice rougher than before.

My nod is jerky as I respond, “Yeah,” I whisper. “Just thinking.”

He chuckles, a low and cynical sound. “Don't do that. Thinking is dangerous when you're in this business.”

“Business isn't on my mind, not really.” Correcting him requires a gentle touch as my thumb traces the line of his jaw. His stubble feels rough against my skin, a stark reminder of the hard knock life he leads. “Thinking about you is the only thing happening right now.”

He goes still, his look softening in a way that feels heavier than any weapon he carries. “Adalynn,” he mutters, his tone shifting into something almost cautionary.

“No, listen to me.” My hold on him tightens, scared he’ll run away before I get the chance to tell him how I feel. “Fear has ruled my actions, specifically the dread of letting anyone truly see me. Being alone, however, seems far more terrifying. If you go out there tonight and don't come back, I’m going to regret every second I spent keeping you at arm's length.”

He watches me for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders dropping just a fraction. Empty promises aren't his style. He doesn't tell me everything is going to be fine, because he knows better. Instead, he tightens his grip on my waist, pulling me so close that there isn't a hair’s breadth between us.

“I’m not planning on dying tonight,” he states, voice firm and steady. “I’ve got too much to come home to.”

Swallowing hard, the weight of his words lands squarely in my chest. “Then you make sure you do come home. Don't go looking for trouble just because you think it's your job to draw the fire.”

He offers a lopsided grin, the one that usually signals he’s about to ignore good advice. “Trouble usually finds me on its own. I don't need to go looking for it.”

“Promise me,” I demand, refusing to let him deflect.

He sighs, a resigned sound, and kisses my forehead. “I promise.”

The air in the house seems to shift, growing heavy and thick with the reality of what’s coming. He needs to move, needs to get to that warehouse, and every second spent standing here draws closer to midnight. We both know it. For just this moment, the rest of the world stops.