Quiet Ones (Hellbent Book 3), page 8
Noah Van der Berg lies on a bench, pressing a bar up and down above his chest. He exercises with Dylan sometimes, part of their race training. Where is she?
Then, Farrow Kelly rises off a leg curl machine far to my left. He stares at me.
I glance back at Noah, who drops the bar back into his cradle and sits up, meeting my gaze too.
Unease settles into my stomach, and I stop breathing for a moment.
Oh, no.
Quickly, I tap out a text to Dylan.
Where are you?”
The hair on my neck rises. Darting my gaze up, I see Farrow and Noah walking straight toward me, one from the left, and one from my right.
“No, no, no…”
A notification pops up.
Oh, I’m at camp, she writes. I sent my associates.
My chest caves. “Dylan,” I whimper under my breath.
Trust me, she says next.
And just as both men close in, I spot Lucas breezing past on the track, his chin lifting in greeting. My heart thuds, and he almost looks like he’s about to smile, but his gaze flickers to the boys, and casually, he turns back to the track, disappearing.
I blink slow and hard. I’m gonna kill her.
I’m going…to kill her.
When I open my eyes, Noah is there, and I’m pretty sure he speed-walked to beat Farrow. “Hi,” he says, stopping in front of me.
Noah Van der Berg is about my age, maybe a few years older, and the star of JT Racing, my brother’s company. Jared recruited Noah after he met Noah’s father, who constructs custom motorcycles for the Motocross circuit. My brother makes engines, so JT Racing and Van der Berg Extreme are just short of being married to each other.
And Noah, I hear, leapt at the chance to leave his secluded childhood home in the Rocky Mountains to come race for my family.
That’s about all I know—other than I’ve seen him with at least two different girls on the back of his motorcycle since I returned home a month ago. We haven’t formally met.
I search my brain for how to make them go away, but Farrow finally steps up to his side. “Take off, Van der Berg.” He throws the other guy a look through hooded eyes. “I’m working out with her.” Then to me, “Dylan sent me.”
“Yeah, she sent me too,” Noah retorts.
Farrow steels his spine, looking away and grumbling, “Fuckin’ Dylan…”
Yeah, pretty much. This is her plan, because she thinks two good-looking men at my side will make Lucas jealous.
Or it could make him not talk to me at all! Did she think about that?
I throw the croissants into the nearby trash can, avoiding both of their eyes. “What did she tell you?” I whisper.
Farrow shrugs. “She said you just moved back home, and that we should be friends.”
Noah adds, “And I’m not allowed to make a pass unless—”
“Until…” Farrow interrupts him before looking back to me. “Until it’s very obvious that you want me to.”
I feel my face flush, and I almost roll my eyes to distract from it, but I resist.
Farrow Kelly might be only twenty, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me his game level far exceeds Noah’s, and it’s not even in regards to women. The Green Street tattoo—simply the word RIVER etched with a line stricken down the middle—stretches vertically on the left side of his neck. Like Mace’s.
Green Street is a gang in Weston, the dilapidated mill town across the river that’s been hanging by a thread since a flood drove most of its citizens away more than twenty years ago. Houses sit abandoned, businesses remain closed, and whatever law does exist is only for hire. I don’t know what goes on at Green Street, but I do know Farrow has a seat at the adult table and his blond hair, a shade lighter than Noah’s, is often under a black ski cap at night. Light hair doesn’t disguise the blood splatter, does it?
But they both have eyes that look like they’re constantly smiling even when they aren’t, and I don’t think that’s fake.
“She also said I should give you a ride home,” Noah continues, ignoring Farrow, “so your brothers know you’re safe.”
“A ride home on your motorcycle?” Farrow teases him.
“Jared likes me,” Noah points out to him. “In fact, all of her brothers do. And all of her family.”
“Nuh-uh,” Farrow barks at him. “Dylan and Hunter are mine.”
My gaze flies to Noah.
“No, you don’t get Dylan,” he continues to argue. “I share a bathroom with her.”
“Fuck off, Stoner Mountain Boy.”
“I don’t smoke weed, you little shit!”
“You’re from Colorado,” Farrow bickers.
I can’t help it, but my eyebrows are up by my hairline, amusement taking over.
I’ve seen them both around, been in rooms they’ve been in and heard them talk to Dylan, Hunter, Jared, et cetera, but I’ve never dealt with them personally.
I’m not really intimidated, though. They remind me of my brothers.
And Kade, Hunter, and Hawke, for that matter. I don’t know about Farrow, but Jared obviously trusts Noah enough to let him live under his roof with his teenage daughter, when she’s not at college or the camp, that is.
“You guys can stay if you want,” I tell them, veering around Farrow, toward the track. “Or you can go. I’m just exercising, and I don’t need a ride home, but thank you.”
Noah sidles up to my right. “I’ll stay,” he tells me. “In case you change your mind.”
“I’m here anyway,” I hear Farrow say just behind me.
“Wanna jog?” Noah gestures to the empty lanes.
I take a quick glance, not seeing Lucas. Did he get off the track?
He might not talk to me if they’re hanging around.
But…at least this way, it doesn’t look like I came here looking for him. Noah and Farrow give good cover, I guess.
I nod, and Noah walks with me.
“Ah, shit,” I hear Farrow say. He stops, staring at his phone. “I’ll catch up.”
“You mean at the weights, because mafia meatheads can’t do cardio?” Noah taunts.
Farrow doesn’t respond, just shoots Noah a look as he grabs himself between his legs and jerks once before spinning around and walking away, his phone to his ear.
Lucas breezes past, casting us a sideways glance, and then he’s gone again.
Goosebumps spread up my arms, into my hair. He doesn’t look happy. Maybe Dylan does know what she’s doing.
Noah holds out his hand, formally introducing himself. “Noah Van der Berg.”
I look back at him just as I see Lucas glance back at us.
I smile, shaking his hand. “Quinn Caruthers. Nice to finally meet you.”
Lucas
She’s laughing. Why does it bug me?
He smiles, she blushes, they talk, and I run a little faster, so they don’t pass me. And they smile some more. And talk and talk and talk.
I thought I might see her here tonight, but I don’t know why I assumed she’d be alone if I did.
I guess it’s just a reminder of how the world keeps moving without you. Quinn used to want me around.
She has other people’s attention now.
I jerk my head to the side, cracking my neck. It’s good that she has people around her. He has a kind way about him, at least. Easy eyes that look at her like he’s seven and she’s carrying a plate of cookies. Not like the other one who looks at her like he already knows how this night will go, and it will end entirely in his favor.
I exit the track, swipe my hand towel and water bottle off a bench, and wipe the sweat on my forehead that isn’t really there. I’d only been jogging for a few minutes, trying not to think about how I timed my arrival when I thought she might show up.
Madoc was here last night too. I just wanted to catch up with them both some more before I leave. I haven’t seen him yet, though.
I head for the bottle filler and see them jog past, her running partner trailing her just a couple of inches, his eyes dropping to her ass.
Noah Van der Berg.
Madoc told me about him today at the track—the family’s new honorary addition. He’s on Jared’s racing team, lives with him and Tate, and acts as a pseudo-older brother to their son, James. Good friends with Dylan too.
Actually, all of them, I hear.
Saw him for a beat at the Loop, straddling his bike and talking up some girls. I can spot a young guy, new to town, and enjoying a playing field of fresh new faces a mile away. They don’t mind him having fun, but they will mind when he’s having fun with Quinn. I guarantee it.
Tipping up my bottle, I take a drink.
“Is he coming tonight?” I hear a voice ask.
I swallow a little more water and then stop. I think it’s the other kid Quinn was with.
“What time?” he asks.
He’s on the phone.
“What time?” Again, but sterner.
I take a step, then two, and spot the other blond around the corner, his back to the towel station. He holds a phone in his hand, an ear piece is in his ear.
“You think I want his job?” He grins. “I’ll be taking yours first.”
He slides a hand up under his black T-shirt and rubs his stomach.
“And then Reeves will fucking find out how short-lived power is when you have no people.”
I pull back just behind the wall again.
Reeves.
Drew Reeves?
“I won’t be late,” I hear him say. But then his voice softens. “Well, I might be late. Kind of like what I’m looking at right now.”
I take another step, seeing him follow Quinn with his eyes as she runs with Noah.
“Don’t wait for me.”
He ends the call, tucks the phone into the pocket of fitted gray sweatpants, and then he turns.
And that’s when I see it.
RIVER inked vertically down the side of his neck, a line stricken through the word.
My chest caves. Fuck.
I stand there, watching him walk back to Noah and Quinn as they stop running and move to the machines. Something coils in my stomach as I clench my teeth.
The tattoo. The fucking tat.
Green Street.
He had said “and then Reeves will find out…”
…will.
As if he’s still here.
But he’s gone. I checked. He was driven away two years ago. The crooked Shelburne Falls cop who ran the Weston Green Street gang and was caught siphoning confiscated goods for his own benefit and conning a bunch of kids into doing his dirty work. He fled, and an underling took over.
But eight years ago, Drew wasn’t a cop. And he wasn’t alone.
I’m not welcome here anymore, under any condition, but I couldn’t exactly tell my mother that when she forced me home. Even Lance doesn’t know what happened.
And Madoc will never know.
Does Green Street cause him any trouble? If I’m seeing someone with a tattoo after only two days here, the group has to be thriving.
Neither of these fucking guys should be around Quinn.
Lance sidles up to my side, done with the treadmill. “Legs?” he asks.
I’d forgotten he was here.
I watch Quinn move to the shoulder press as her friends circle her.
“Upper body.” And I shoot off.
“But we did that yesterday.”
I don’t stop, and he doesn’t argue.
Climbing on to the lat machine, I glance at Quinn in the mirror, seeing her about twenty feet behind me with the guys. She starts her reps, Noah next to her on a weight bench while the other one lingers behind her. What’s his name?
Quinn doesn’t look at me, her chin down.
But then…she lifts her head and locks on my gaze in the mirror. She flashes a small smile, my heart jolting.
I’d forgotten how her whole face brightens when she does that.
“So, what did you think of Fallstown?” Lance hangs in front of me, his hands gripping a bar over his head.
I shake my mind clear, trying to hide the pounding in my chest. “It was fun.” I let the bar rise and then pull down again. “Nice tracks.”
Fallstown. Thank goodness I’m not going to be here long enough to learn that new title.
Madoc let me do a few turns in his car. And then showed me how I was supposed to do it. Amusement pulls at the corners of my mouth, remembering how it felt when he taught me to drive when I was fifteen.
Actually, thirteen, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone that.
“It was fun, and…” he teases.
I almost chuckle. My friend knows me. “And I’m glad they changed the name because it’s not the Loop anymore.” Quinn glances at me, followed by Van der Berg, no doubt overhearing. “Clean, scheduled, and corporate.” Instead of wild, chaotic, and exciting. “The Loop is gone,” I say a little louder than necessary. “It’s a shame.”
My ego takes over, and for some reason, things that never even occurred to me are now pissing me off. Like how she has people in her life who don’t even know who I am. And how I know more than they do about everything in this town, and I don’t like how they’re just fucking walking around without permission.
“Yeah, nothing like it used to be,” Lance offers.
I know I’m not thinking clearly. I’m being stupid. It’s just me feeling threatened and possessive of a life I no longer have, but I can’t shake it.
And I don’t care. Not really. It’s just possessiveness of my history here, which isn’t nearly as good as my life is now overseas. Things just always seem better than they were, in retrospect.
Quinn moves off the shoulder press and takes Noah’s place at the weight bench, Van der Berg and the other one helping adjust her weights.
“But we do have other things to offer,” Lance adds.
Noah moves behind her. “I’ll spot you.”
“Oh, I remember,” I reply, tipping my eyes up at my friend. “Small-town privacy, speed traps, and pancake suppers.”
Hard to avoid the interest of such a close-knit community.
“No, I can hear you,” Quinn says, and I watch the boys smile down at her as she listens to them over her ear piece.
“We have mystery.” Lance moves in, lowering his voice. “Every appetite can be satiated in a city, and no one cares. A small town is where you’re afraid to get caught. That’s where the fun is. Who’s having an affair with who? Who’s the secret love-child of the police chief?”
Who’s hiding a body…?
Yeah, I get the picture. I shake off the aggravation weighing on my shoulders.
“It’s the relationships in a small town that make everything messy…” he trails off.
“Thank you,” Quinn says, and I glance over, watching Van der Berg take the bar as she sits up.
“It’s the people you see every day that make your secrets more dangerous,” Lance tells me. “And more worthwhile.”
An earbud tumbles to the floor. Quinn sees it but continues her set.
I release my bar, replying, “Maybe I would’ve thought so before I came back and saw how developed the town is now.”
It’s not quiet anymore.
Bending down, I swipe up the ear piece and blow off any dirt or dust.
Approaching, I gently take Quinn’s ear and slide it back in. My fingers tremble at the feel of her soft skin and the strands of hair caught behind her lobe. I don’t touch too hard, almost like she’s fine china.
“The Loop used to be wet and dirty,” I tell Lance as I ignore the boys and feel Quinn go still as she clutches the bars in her hands. “Illegal and dangerous. What made it fun was that we were doing something we weren’t supposed to.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, the young men with her like statues in the corner of my eye. I can feel them watching us, and I hold her for another second—and then another—amplifying every moment she doesn’t shove me away, showing them that she knows me. Showing her that I’m still the closest man to her outside of blood.
“But the more the town grows, the more people fear losing what they have. The mystery dissipates in favor of shared preservation.”
Backing away, I have a seat at the machine next to her and start pumping, despite my heart racing more as the seconds pass. Lance takes the rope on my other side and pulls down again and again, exercising his triceps.
I don’t check Quinn, breathing slowly and calmly as if nothing happened.
“So,” I ask Lance, swallowing. “Am I going to meet your wife?”
Quinn resumes her arm curls, and I exhale slowly.
“Sure.” He nods. “When you get one for yourself. I’m not letting her around you when you’re unattached.”
I force a laugh, trying to act like Quinn isn’t the only thing I’m aware of. “Like I would ever…” I joke.
“But she might.”
I shake my head. “Bring her on Saturday. The more the merrier to the Caruthers.”
I didn’t want a party. But I can give Madoc one night.
“Will she be there?” he murmurs in a low voice, gesturing to Quinn.
I was hoping he wouldn’t notice her or how she was the same young woman who worked out next to us last night.
Gripping the bar, I climb off the shoulder press, keeping my voice down, “As she’s Madoc’s sister, I’m sure she will be.”
He rises too, and lingers close as I take over his machine. “Want me to make sure they’re not?” he teases.
Van der Berg puts on a show for Quinn, curling his biceps as he lifts a bar. The other one leans into her ear, whispering something from behind. A glimmer of amusement curves the edges of her mouth.
I release the handle, the sound of the weights clanging against each other making the others in the room startle.
I turn to my friend, teasing, “Just don’t send one of our old buddies after her for a young wife of his own to match yours after I leave, okay? She’s a kid.” I grab a weight bar. “And leave them alone.” I indicate the boys she’s with. “You’ve settled into calm, domestic bliss. Keep it that way.”
I should’ve been as smart as him back in the day, and then I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now.
