Page 30 of The Viper
For some reason, I wanted to tell her everything—about Caleb, Ethan, the whole Dane clan, the way we’d grown up wild in Montana, fighting and fishing and forging bonds stronger than steel.
But I didn’t.
“Yeah,” I said, keeping it short. “Brothers.”
She waited, like she expected more, but I didn’t give it. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed—her face was a mask, practiced and unreadable.
She turned back to her phone, typing another quick message before slipping it away. “Can’t wait to get cleaned up,” she said, almost to herself. “Wash the day off.”
The image hit me unbidden—Lexi, naked, water streaming down her skin, steam rising around her. I clenched my jaw, willing the thought away.Stop it, Dane.She was a client, a job, not a fantasy. But the way her voice softened, the way her fingers brushed her hair back, wasn’t helping.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, the radio filling the silence with some country ballad about lost love and whiskey. James Island unfolded around us, quiet and green, the housestucked among palmettos and marsh grass. When we pulled up to her rental—a weathered blue two-story with a wide porch and white columns—I killed the engine and turned to her. “Stay put for a minute.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Gonna have a look around.”
“Really?” Her tone was skeptical, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I said, stepping out. “It’s my job.” I flashed her a grin, the kind I used to defuse tension. “I’m good at it, I promise.”
She rolled her eyes but stayed put, her silhouette sharp against the SUV’s tinted window. I moved quickly, circling the house first. The perimeter was quiet—no footprints in the soft earth, no signs of tampering on the windows or doors.
The marsh stretched out behind, its surface still and dark, reflecting the last streaks of pink in the sky. A heron lifted off, wings slicing the air, and the cicadas started their evening hum.
Nothing out of place, but my instincts stayed sharp, that itch at the back of my neck telling me to check everything twice.
Inside, I did a thorough sweep, moving room by room. The house smelled like the kind of place that tried to feel like home but didn’t quite make it. Hardwood floors creaked under my boots, and the floor-to-ceiling windows let in too much light for my liking—too exposed.
I checked closets, corners, the back deck. In the bathroom, I froze, my eyes catching on a row of bras hanging on a rack—lace, silk, colors that didn’t belong in my head. I looked away, heat creeping up my neck, feeling like a damn idiot.
Focus, Dane.
Satisfied the place was clean, I opened the front door for her. She stepped out of the SUV, graceful as a princess, her sundress swaying as she moved.
“All clear?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.
“All clear,” I said, holding the door. Her hand brushed my arm as she passed, a light touch to say thank you, and that damn spark hit me again—electric, sharp, like a live wire. My pulse kicked up, and I told myself to get it together.
This wasn’t a game. She wasn’t a conquest. She was a job.
Inside, she dropped her bag on the kitchen island and turned to me. “Can you make us a drink? I’m gonna clean up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s okay? Me drinking on duty?”
She smirked, leaning against the counter. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
I almost laughed. A drink was the least of my problems compared to her.
“Yeah, one won’t hurt,” I said, heading for the fridge.
Vodka, gin, soda, a couple of limes—simple enough. I was in a vodka mood, so I mixed two vodka sodas with lime, the ice clinking in the glasses. The citrus cut through the air, sharp and clean, but it did nothing to drown out the sound of the shower starting down the hall. My grip tightened on the glass.
Damn it.
I took a sip, nodding at the balance—crisp, not too sweet. It grounded me, but only for a second. The shower’s hum was a low torture, conjuring images I had no right to entertain. I leaned against the counter, forcing my focus to the room—the sleek appliances, the view of the fading marsh through the windows, the faint creak of the house settling. Anything but her.
“Lucas?” Her voice came from the bathroom, soft but clear.
