The Betrayal (Unbroken Raine Falling 1)

“No.” Liam didn’t offer another comment, like he was at a loss for words, too.

The silence stretched on. Macen hoped they had finished dutifully paying homage—at least for another year—to a past that could never be undone. After all, nothing could purge the remorse staining Hammer’s soul. Did Liam feel the same? Hammer didn’t know. They’d never talked about the end.

Instead, he had escaped to the opposite coast, moving from New York to Los Angeles. After that, things had never been the same. Today especially he missed the unguarded camaraderie they’d once shared.

In the old days, he would have confessed to Liam that his mind wasn’t here at the cemetery but preoccupied by his desperate desire for Raine. In the last year, she’d gone from being the too-young runaway he’d taken in because she tugged on his heartstrings to the budding siren who had tied him up in agonizing knots of lust.

But he said nothing. In fact, he’d never mentioned the girl to his best friend.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for Liam’s advice on coping with this potent need for the girl-woman living under his roof. He remained mute. He didn’t want to share her even verbally. Besides, too much water had washed under their bridge for such soul baring.

Not to mention the fact that O’Neill had his own problems—big ones.

Hammer had kept his opinion of Liam’s fiancée to himself. Not his igloo, not his ice queen. And if he delved into Liam’s problems, his old pal would only do what he did best: deflect the questions and dissect Hammer instead.

Macen wanted to avoid that at all costs.

He clapped Liam on the back. “Ready to go?”

“If you are.”

Hammer merely nodded.

Wordlessly, they plodded across the frozen ground. Usually, Hammer looked forward to this part of their observance, when his Irish friend stayed true to his roots and took him to some pub where they’d imbibe a pint—or ten—and forget…at least for a while. This year, he wished he could skip it and fly home.

Was Raine all right? Did she miss him, too? Were the club members obeying his rules?

He’d left Pike, a trusted dungeon monitor, in charge of Raine’s well-being. If any Dom so much as breathed in her scent, Pike would not only carry out Hammer’s strict, hands-off, castrate-any-bastard-who-touched-her policy, he would revel in it. But that wasn’t fucking enough, and not knowing how she was doing was turning him inside out.

God, he hated how much he ached to see her right now.

“So, where are we getting shitfaced this year?”

Liam smirked. “As long as the drinks are stout and we get bloody pissed, does it matter?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’ll call for a ride and find us a friendly pub.”

Hammer nodded. Since he couldn’t skip this drunkfest, he might as well enjoy it. “How’s Seth?”

Liam focused on his phone. “As you can imagine, our friend Mr. Cooper is busy, but when we have time for a chat, he seems good, if a bit more of a homebody these days.”

At least someone is happy. But Hammer didn’t say that; he’d only sound as bitter as he felt. “Glad to hear it.”

“I’m hoping to join him soon.” Liam pocketed his phone. “Uber is on its way.”

Another pause. Another awkward silence.

Hammer grimaced. He really didn’t want to delve into Liam’s mess, but what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t try? “So…marriage, huh? Are you really sure you want to take the plunge?”

“Oh, aye. I am.”

“You’ve thought about all the things you’ll be giving up, right? You’ve always liked…variety.”

“Not anymore. She’s perfect for me, mate.”

Hammer didn’t see it. In fact, he’d bet Liam had merely fallen prey to Gwyneth’s pretty face and lithe body. “What about the lifestyle? You’re a Dominant. Submission is not her thing, man.”

“There’s a hungry sub inside her, and I’ll find it.”

Hammer raised a brow at his friend. If that crazy bitch was any sort of submissive, then he was a fucking virgin.

“Don’t look at me that way,” Liam protested. “With a little time and effort, I know I can coax Gwyneth’s deepest desires.”

Maybe her deepest desires for Gucci and Vuitton, but cuffs and spanking benches? “From one Dom to another, I’ve seen no hint of a submissive lurking inside that”—catty, calculating, conniving—“woman.”

“If you spent more time with her, you’d see her potential.”

At Liam’s earnest tone, Hammer somehow managed not to roll his eyes. It had only taken him an evening with the couple to know that Liam’s future wife wasn’t what his friend needed.

“Why don’t you stay a few more days, Macen, get to know her a bit better? We can have dinner tomorrow night at that little Italian place you like over on Mulberry Street…then see where the night takes us.”

Hammer knew what that meant and couldn’t shake his head fast enough. “I can’t. Sorry.”