Free Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) by Morgan Blaze

me,” Mark said. “Right after I left. He was raving about how I’d assaulted you. If Jonah hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”
    “Jason,” she whispered. “Oh my God. He really did call.”
    “Apparently.”
    She shook herself and met his gaze. “I am so sorry,” she said. “He must’ve been terrible to you. But I swear, he wouldn’t have hurt—”
    “He had a gun.”
    Everything in her froze.
    “So, I’ll say it again. You don’t know your father very well.” Mark’s jaw firmed. “Now do you understand why we can’t work together?”
    Her heart dropped into her stomach. “There has to be an explanation,” she said. “It was a fake, or it wasn’t loaded. Something. I’ll talk to him.”
    “Yeah, you do that. But we still can’t work together.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you’re a Monroe, and I’m a Dawson.”
    She shivered as she caught the pain in his voice again. “What if we could end this stupid feud?” she said. The idea of trying to talk to her father and brother about this scared the hell out of her, but maybe it was the only way. “It’s been such a long time, and it was never your fault in the first place. I really think I can get my family to see reason.”
    “Don’t do that.”
    “What?”
    “Don’t tell me you can fix it,” he said in roughened tones. “I can’t stand—Christ, just don’t.”
    He looked miserable enough to alarm her. “Mark, what’s wrong?”
    “Five minutes are up,” he ground out. “You need to leave.”
    “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
    “Everything, damn it!” He stood so fast, the entire couch jolted. “Get out of my house. Before I do something you’ll regret.”
    She rose slowly, confused and hurt. “Tell me why,” she said. “Why don’t you want me to fix it?”
    “Never mind why. You’re about the stubbornest woman on the planet, sweetheart.”
    “Fine.” She stepped closer to him. “While we’re at it, what’s wrong with my name?”
    “Back off, princess.”
    “That’s not it, either.” Another step brought her inches from him, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Tell me why.”
    “Please,” he groaned. “I’m begging you. Stay away from me.”
    The sudden change in him broke her heart and brought tears to her eyes. “Do you really hate me that much?” she whispered.
    She could see him struggling to respond. Finally, he said, “No. I don’t hate you.”
    “Then…why?”
    He shuddered visibly. “Because I’m a Dawson.”
    “Mark…”
    “Just leave!” His voice broke on the words. “You’re killing me. Can’t you see that?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or is that what you’re trying to do?”
    She grabbed his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.
    He responded with a soft moan, his stiffness yielding instantly. For a moment she was drowning—but then he jerked back and glared at her. “All right,” he snarled. “You’ve had your fun. I get it, payback’s a bitch. Now leave.”
    “Payback?” she echoed angrily. “If you think I did that for revenge, you’re an idiot.”
    “Oh, right. You did it because you want me.”
    “Yes! That’s exactly why I did it!”
    “Come on, sweetheart. You got a bridge in Brooklyn you want to sell me, too?”
    She kissed him again, fast and furious. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
    Whatever battle he was fighting, she watched his eyes darken as he lost it.
    Then his hands were on her, his mouth on her lips. One minute she was in his arms, tugging at his shirt until he stripped it off with a growl and she could finally touch him. He was everything she’d imagined—hot, hard, perfect. The next she was on the couch, his lips at her throat and a hand up her shirt, stroking her skin until she shivered.
    “Last chance,” he murmured against her.
    “For what?”
    “To leave.” He raised up to look at her, pain and longing etched on his face. “I won’t be able to stop.”
    She smiled. “I don’t want you to stop.”
    He made a