The Dare (Briar U Book 4)

The water is freezing. Even through my wetsuit it still stings my toes if I don’t keep moving. I paddle in circles just to keep my body temp up, but it doesn’t bother me. Nothing gets to me when I’m on my board and the swells are passing beneath me. Nothing penetrates the roar of waves crashing against the shore and the seagull cries overhead and the saltwater on my tongue. It’s like being inside a snow globe. A perfect sphere of tranquility separate from everything and everyone else. Serene.

Then I feel the ocean pulling at me, the suction dragging out. I know my wave’s coming and get myself lined up. Flat on my chest. Fingernails digging into the wax. Poised. And you just gotta sense it now.

I paddle to stay ahead of it just enough, until finally I pop up, vibration climbing my legs.

Find the balance.

Meet the wave.

Out here they don’t last long. Only a few seconds until they break and fall and glide gently into the wash.

I get about an hour in the water before the sun has fully settled into the morning sky. I’m stripping out of my wetsuit at the Jeep when I see Hunter drive up in his Land Rover with Bucky, Foster, Matt and Gavin. Less than a minute later, a second vehicle carting Jesse, Brodowski, Alec, and Trenton pulls into the parking lot. By nine the entire team’s made it out to the beach for a cleanup with the SurfRider Foundation.

“Nice turnout,” Melanie, the volunteer coordinator, tells me when I introduce the boys. They fall all over themselves to greet her as if they’ve never seen a woman before. “You guys local?”

“A bit up the road in Hastings,” I say. “We’re from Briar.”

“Well, it’s great to have you. We appreciate the support.”

We all take a bucket, some gloves, and trash-picker poles from the tent they’ve got set up on the beach. Foster leers at a group of cute BU sorority girls walking by and raises his hand. “Uh, yeah, I’m new and not a good swimmer. Can I be paired with a buddy? I prefer blondes.”

“Shut up, dipshit.” Hunter elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t worry,” he assures Melanie. “I’m his chaperone.”

She grins. “Thank you. Now get to work, gentlemen.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Matt says. He flashes a grin, and, despite being at least five years older than him, Melanie proves that no woman, of any age, is immune to Anderson’s dimples.

I’d gotten involved with the foundation back in Huntington Beach, so when I saw they had a local chapter, I signed up without a second’s thought. But not everyone is taking to it with a positive attitude. Only an hour into the cleanup, Bucky’s already pitching a fit.

“I don’t remember going to court,” he grumbles, trudging through the sand with a bucket. “I feel like I’d remember that.”

“Stop complaining,” Hunter chides him.

“And come to think of it, I don’t recall getting arrested, either.”

“Shut up,” Foster says.

“So someone tell me why I’m on a chain gang on my day off.” Bucky bends over and starts wrestling with an item buried in the sand. As he does, the rest of us catch a whiff of something foul. Like a dead animal boiled in sewage.

“Oh damn, what is that?” Matt winces and covers his face with his shirt.

“Leave it, Buck,” Hunter says. “It’s probably somebody’s dog.”

“What if it’s a body?” Jesse pulls out his phone, ready to capture the gory reveal.

“It’s stuck on my stupid pole,” Bucky says irritably. He proceeds to dig sand out of the way, yanking, pulling, fighting with the awful stinking thing that won’t break free until finally he flies backward.

Sand sprays over our heads. Bucky’s ass hits the ground at the same time that a loaded diaper tangled in a discarded volleyball net lands on top of him. What looks like more than a few discarded rotisserie chicken carcasses lie in the remnants of the hole he’d dug.

“Holy fuck, man, you’re covered in baby shit!” Foster shouts as we all back away from the horror show.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna barf.”

“That’s so nasty.”

“It’s all over you!”

“Get it off me! Get it off!” Bucky writhes around in the sand while Hunter tries to capture the diaper with his grabber thing and Foster keeps kicking more sand on him for some reason.

Matt is cackling at the scene unfolding in front of us. “Wash it off, dumbass,” he tells Bucky.

I’m pretty sure Matt means for Bucky to utilize the showers up by the parking lot.

Instead, Bucky strips out of everything but his boxers and goes sprinting into the freezing surf.

Oh boy. It’s fifty-four degrees on land and the wind’s blowing at a good clip. But mind over matter, I suppose, because Bucky dives headfirst and swims out, furiously scrubbing and rinsing.

We all watch his progress. I’m feeling real admiration for the guy. I was out there earlier freezing my ass off in a wetsuit. I shudder to think of that frigid water tickling my bare balls.

When Bucky finally runs back out of the water, he’s turned a shade of blue and is shivering like a dog in an ASPCA commercial. I swiftly take off my Henley and give it to him. Gavin’s waiting for him with a towel. As for shorts, he’s kind of shit out of luck.

“Go warm up in the Jeep.” I hand Bucky the keys.

He snatches them. “I hate the environment.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, the guys drop to their knees laughing.

“He’s gonna be traumatized for life after that,” Foster says, still working off the chortles.

“Dude’s never coming to the beach again,” Gavin agrees.

“I don’t blame him.” Hunter grins before sauntering off to toss all the feces-covered garbage in the dumpster.

With the exception of Bucky, the guys have been pretty good sports about giving up their Saturday morning. And honestly, it means a lot that they took an interest in something important to me. Since coming to the East Coast, I haven’t had a lot of time to reconnect with my passions. Hockey and classes didn’t leave any time for surfing or coming out to the coast. It was Taylor who got me thinking about looking for ways to volunteer again. She’d offered to join us today, but I thought this’d be a good way to get all the guys together. With the season over, we hardly ever get everyone in the same room anymore. Or the same beach, as it were.

I’m not gonna lie—a part of me missed them. I mean, yeah, I live with like half these assholes, but it’s not the same as sweating it out on the ice together. Skating drills. Spending hours on a bus. Ninety minutes of pure nail-biting determination. I guess I didn’t realize how much hockey meant to me until I played it with them. This team made me love it. These men have become my brothers.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I expect it to be Taylor wondering what time I’ll be back, but an unknown number pops up on the screen. By now I know what that means.

Kai.

I shouldn’t answer it. Nothing good comes from giving him the satisfaction. There’s this nagging feeling, though, that keeps me from sending him to voicemail. Because when it comes to Kai Turner, I’d rather see him coming. The worst thing I can do is let him sneak up on me again.

“What?” I bark in answer.

“Easy, bro. Simmer down.”

“I’m busy.”

“I can see that.”

My blood runs cold. Trying not to draw attention, I look around, scanning the beach, the parking lot. In the distance I glimpse a skinny dude loitering near the restrooms. He looks like a little boy in his big brother’s clothing and I don’t have to see his face to know.

“How the hell did you find me out here?” I take a few steps away from Hunter and the others.

“Man, I got eyes everywhere. Don’t you know that by now?”

“So you followed me.” Fuck. He’s getting more desperate.

Tracking me down in Buffalo was one thing. Now he’s come to Massachusetts? From Hastings to this beach near Boston. Who knows how long he’s been watching me or what his game is this time. I hesitate to say Kai’s dangerous. I’d never known him to be violent beyond a few brawls. Just kid stuff. Black eyes and bruised egos.

Then again, I don’t really know him anymore.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just talk to me like a man,” he says.

I stifle a curse. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Yeah, but I do. So you can come up here and we can do this like friends, or I gotta come down there and embarrass you in front of your fancy new douchebags.”

Fuck him.

It was like this when I first moved to Huntington Beach, too. Making me feel guilty for leaving the neighborhood, as if I had any choice in the matter. Taunting me about leaving him behind for trust-fund assholes, as if I even had any friends then. Ragging on me for my mom buying me new clothes. It took me a long time to realize what he was doing, the subtle psychological manipulation. Too long.

“Fine, asshole.”

I tell Hunter I’m going to take a piss, then head up to the parking lot near the restrooms. I duck into the men’s for a minute before going to the benches near my Jeep. There’s no telling who he might have brought out here with him, and I’d rather not let him lure me too far from the crowds. If he’s gone to all this trouble, that means he wants something pretty bad. I can’t trust a desperate Kai.

“You’re making this difficult,” he says, sitting beside me.

“That’s on you. I’d rather be left alone.”

“Man, I don’t get you, Con. You were my ride-or-die. Back in the day—”

“Fuck. Just stop.” I turn to study him, this ghost of my childhood that becomes less a memory than a nightmare with every year that passes. “Back in the day is gone, Kai. We’re not kids anymore. I’m nothing to you now.”

I force myself not to tear my gaze away, but I see in him everything I hate about myself. And then I hate myself a little more for thinking that way. Because at least Kai knows who he is. Yeah, he’s a screw-up, but he’s not walking around with delusions, trying to cram himself into a mold that was made exclusively to keep guys like him, like us, out.

“Whatever you want, you’re not getting it,” I say in a tired voice. “I’m out, man. I’m done with your drama. Let me move on with my life.”

“Can’t do that, bro. Not yet.” He slants his head. “You help me out, though, and I go away. You don’t ever need to see me again. You can forget all about me.”

Fuck. Fucking damn it.

“You’re in trouble,” I say flatly. Of course he is. It’s in his voice. Not the usual man, I’m in a bind, can you spot me bullshit. He’s scared.

“I screwed up, alright? I was supposed to do a thing for these guys—”

“A thing.”

Kai rolls his eyes, his head wobbling in exasperation. “I was just moving a little product.”

“Trafficking, Kai.” Goddamn idiot. “You mean trafficking. The fuck’s the matter with you?”

“It’s not like that, bro. I owed a favor to some guys and they said if I picked up a package from this place and took it to that place, we were square. Easy enough.”

“But?” Kai’s whole life is a series of easy way outs followed by a string of critical buts. But I didn’t know anyone was home. But someone talked. But I got wasted and lost the money.

“I did exactly what they told me,” he protests. “Picked up the package from their boy, took it to the place, dropped it with a guy—”

“And now they say their guy never got it.”

Kai deflates with how obvious the answer is. Because any moron would have seen this coming—and Kai never does. “That’s the gist,” he mutters. “I don’t know who’s got it out for me. Somebody’s trying to fuck me up over this and I don’t get the animosity.”

“What do you expect me to do about it? If you’re looking for a place to hide out, you gotta move along. I’m not having that kind of static around me. I’ve got roommates.”

“Nah, nothing like that.” He pauses, and the contrite droop of his shoulders says it all. “I just gotta pay them back, right, or they’re getting their money’s worth some other way, okay? Like I know we’ve been here before, Con. I get that. But these people think I stole their shit.”

He rubs his face. Then, with red, urgent eyes he stares at me, imploring me. We’re two kids again, making a pact in a dark room. Slicing our palms open with a pocketknife.

“Conor, they’ll kill me or worse. I’m sure of it.”

Damn him. Damn him for constantly finding ways to reduce himself to the street price of a brick of coke or an envelope of pills. Damn him for letting a bunch of Scarface wannabes run his life. Damn him for holding a gun to his head and telling me if I really care about him, I’d give him more bullets.

I don’t want to know the answer even as I ask the question. “How much?”

“Ten grand.”

“Damn it, Kai.” I can’t sit still anymore. I stumble off the bench and start pacing, my blood boiling with anxious energy. I’d beat the shit out of him if it’d do any good.

“Look, I know.”

“Son of a bitch.” I kick a trashcan, anger and desperation bubbling in my gut.

I don’t even know why I’m letting this get me so fucked up. It’s Kai. He’s acid. Potent, corrosive acid that eats everything it touches. Once you let it touch you, it seeps to the bone. Burns a hole right through you.

“No,” I finally say.

“Bro.” He grabs my arm and I shake him loose with a look that says he won’t get to do that again. “You gotta help me out. I’m not kidding. They will come after me.”

“Then run, dude. Hop a bus to Idaho or North Dakota and just fucking hide. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“You’re serious? You’d leave your best friend hanging—”

“We’re not best friends. And maybe we never were.” I shake my head a few times. “This is your problem to figure out and I don’t want any part of it.”

“I’m sorry, man.” His demeanor shifts. His eyes harden. And now I remember why he used to scare me. “I can’t let you walk away.”

“You don’t want to try me.” I warn, squaring up to him.

There was a time I was just a skinny runt on a skateboard following him around the neighborhood. Not anymore. These days, I could bench this punk and break him over my knee. Better he remembers that before he gets any really stupid ideas.

“Right now, I’m letting you walk away. Next time I see you, things might be different.”

“Nah, brother.” He bares his teeth in a cheerless smile. “See, you forget I still own your ass. Ten grand. Today.”

“You’re out of your mind. I don’t have that kind of money. Even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“You can get it,” he says, still determined. “Go and ask stepdaddy for the money.”

“Fuck off.”

Kai sneers at me. “I don’t think that’s how you want to play this, Con. If you don’t get me that money, Daddy Max finds out you’re the one who gave out the alarm code to the mansion and let someone break in and trash the place.” He cocks a brow. “Maybe I even tell him you’re the one who took the missing cash from his office, how’s that sound?”

“You’re a piece of shit, Kai, you know that?”

“Like I said, brother. We can make this easy—just tell Max you need the money for some dumb bullshit. Make something up. You get me the cash and we’re all good. I peace out and everyone’s happy.”

The thing you don’t know as a kid, when your best friends are your whole world and every day is the first and last day of your life, when everything feels urgent and dangerous, every thought and emotion an eruption of planet-colliding force, is that the worst mistake you’ve ever made will outlive all of that. A brief, blinding moment of rage spirals into a lifetime of guilt and regret.

What I hate most about Kai is all the ways I’m just like him. The only difference is that he can admit it.

Dragging a shaky hand through my hair, I keep my gaze fixed on the horizon and force the words out of my tight, burning throat.

“I’ll get you the money.”