by Lexxi James
Not a fucking chance.
He took a chair.
“You look amazing,” she said with a giggle. “I can’t believe how much you’ve recovered. And worked out. I’m stunned.”
“Thanks, Chels. You look great.” Backstabbing must be one hell of a workout for you.
Despite their differences—like their individual comprehension of the word monogamy—he sat, stunned. Up close, he still couldn’t believe she’d actually try to have him killed.
He needed an answer, face-to-face.
“Funny,” she said, scooting closer to his seat. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Jake. I know we had our differences.”
That’s a PC way to paint infidelity. Like calling a reverse harem “teambuilding.”
“I just couldn’t imagine how I’d deal with everything. With you. With us. And seeing you now reminds me of just how good we were together.” Her hand slid to his knee. “We can have that again. The heat. We can pick up exactly where we left off.”
Her fingernails clawed down his thigh to his knee as she flaunted her thick lashes and red pout.
Disinterested, he hit her with the low grumble of one word. “No.”
She backed off, but knelt at his feet. Here she was, with her ass-length ponytail flipped across her shoulder, teasing him to wrap his fist around it. Now, nothing bored him more than predictability.
Pouting again, she said, “Please. I need you. I still have my engagement ring. Remember when you gave it to me?”
How could I forget? The night was twisted. Kinky. Steering him deep into the world of delicious darkness. My first night as a Dom.
Thinking back on it, his body heated. With rage.
“We’ve both moved on, Chels. I’m not interested in reliving the past.”
She leaned closer, her assets nearly spilling out of her low-cut blouse. Cautiously, she touched both hands to his thighs as she licked her lips. “Not even for old time’s sake?”
Not even if my dick fell off, and the only way to keep it attached was to have your lips hold it in place.
“No,” hit the air like a thud.
“Then why are you here?” Despite her best efforts, the irritation in her tone rang through.
He didn’t move, letting his glare project his seriousness. “Because I want to know about the life insurance policy you took out on me before my last deployment.”
Snapping out of her seduction, she jumped to her feet. “I took out on you? I know what you’re doing. Teasing me. Finding a way to punish me. I’ll give you anything you want, Jake.”
What I want. Let me think. How about the answers to:
How could you fuck my best friend the entire time I was deployed?
How the hell does a woman abandon her fiancé, leaving him for dead in the hospital?
And what kind of woman lies about being pregnant?
“Here’s what I want, Chels. I want to know, in painstaking detail, everything to do with that life insurance policy. I want names, dates, emails, and phone numbers. I want to know who else was involved.”
He took out his phone and pressed voice record. “Now, start talking.”
Three hours later, Jake had everything he needed and stood up to leave.
“Jake, wait.” Chelsea flew into his arms.
Irritated, he huffed, planting his hands on his hips.
“You want this. Us,” she said.
He pushed her away, gentle but firm. Eye to eye, he said, “No. I don’t.”
“But you gave me all your equity in your house, when I had nothing. Why do that if you don’t still have feelings for me?”
He held her at arm’s length. “You don’t get it. The cheating was bad enough. And ditching me in the hospital, that was a class act all on its own. But you said you were pregnant—with another man’s child—and he abandoned you. We grew up together. Your folks and my folks are friends. I didn’t give a damn what people thought of me, but it would reflect poorly on them. I’d do anything for them. I wasn’t taking you back, and I wasn’t ratting you out. This was the cleanest break I could get at the worst possible time in my life.”
Blocking his way, she said, “You helped me because you love me.”
“No, Chels. I helped you because I believed you when you lied and manipulated me. There was no pregnancy. None of it was true, and you thought I would never find out. Just like this policy.”
The truth moved her out of the way, yet she still pleaded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to get your money. I thought you would stay.”
Calmly, he said, “You thought wrong.”
He left, focusing on his cell as it buzzed. The security system alerted him to movement at the gate.
Twenty-Six
After spending the remainder of her day trying to stay focused on her task, Kathryn found herself alone as the day came to a close.
Again? Seriously?
The team had wrapped up and left hours ago. Since then, she’d passed the time puttering about, staying busy, tidying up and organizing things. Filling every minute trying not to obsess about some woman named Chelsea Anders.
Determined, she opened her laptop and googled the sophisticated-sounding name.
The good news? There was only one Chelsea Anders within driving distance. The bad news? She looked like a supermodel and was a top local real estate agent. The differences between them would make a lesser woman worry.
Good thing I’m so secure.
With my man.
Who’s been gone for hours without a word.
Suddenly, Kathryn needed her friends.
She glanced down at her ensemble for the day. Leggings and a black tee, topped with a denim shirt. Rodeo chic. Meanwhile, the woman in a spokesmodel pose smiling gleefully from the laptop was decked out like she’d just shopped on Rodeo Drive.
When Kathryn made the mistake of looking further, the news article she found smacked her right in her ego. It was an old engagement announcement, slating Chelsea as the bride-to-be. The future Mrs. Jake Russo.
So, they were engaged? Big deal. It explains her being his beneficiary.
Kathryn squinted at the screen. He couldn’t possibly be falling for a woman who might have tried to have him killed.
Definitely not. They’ve probably spent the past several hours doing . . . other things.
The little clock on her monitor yanked her attention.
Where the hell is he?
Her agitation ticked higher.
Fine. He lost track of time.
With his ex.
Who looks like a real-life Barbie.
Her fingers strummed the desk.
Fuck it.
She shut the laptop.
I’ve got to get out of here.
Swapping her leggings for her favorite pair of boot-cut jeans, and ditching the flannel for a lined leather jacket, she made herself comfortable in the shiny black Range Rover. She’d already called the dynamic trio. Apparently, they were rocking a long extension of happy hour without her, assuming she’d be preoccupied.
Sadly, she was. But not in the fun way they’d alluded to.
She met them for Mexican and margaritas, ordering her standard substitute of Tito’s vodka for tequila. “Tequila and I broke up years ago,” she explained to the waitress, “and it was a bad breakup.”
“Girl, everyone breaks up with tequila,” the waitress joked.
“Not me,” Julian slurred. “I’m on again with that devil until she does me wrong.” He sipped from his impractical fishbowl margarita that had just been delivered, stuffed with an upside-down bottle of Corona.
“Damn, boy. Tough day?” Laurie said with a giggle.
“Tough fucking week, girl. But it’s about to get oh-so-much better.” His lips tightened around the three straws in his drink, as if sucking it down was his God-given gift.
“Mind if I join you?” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind Kathryn.
They all looked up. She turned as well, then returned to he
r drink. She gave a subtle shake of her head to her friends before taking a sip.
Dana jumped in. “Sorry. It’s a private party.”
The man rested his hand on Kathryn’s shoulder, and she stiffened. “Kathryn, I really think you should let me take you out of here.”
Loud and demanding, she said, “Look, Artie, I’m sorry, but I’m just not interested.”
She didn’t bother looking back, already fuming that this grade-A asshole was stupid enough to put his hands on her.
“But,” his hand squeezed harder, “I insist.”
Oh, count me in. It’s been a hot minute since my hand-to-hand combat training, and I’ve got a lot of pent-up steam.
Taking another sip, she was giving the son of a bitch until the count of three to remove his hand. Just the right amount of time to finish her drink.
One.
Two.
Then his hand was gone.
“Hey!” he shouted.
Jake had the guy’s hand, specifically his thumb, contorted and hiked up behind his back, forcing the guy to his tippy toes before Jake released him with a shove. “I believe the lady gave you her answer.”
The guy stumbled off, leaving the restaurant.
As Jake straightened his shirt, Kathryn noticed her friends staring at the sexy hunk like they’d just ordered him off the naughty hottie menu.
Julian waggled his brows. “Well, well, well, aren’t you just the smoking-hot knight in shining armor.”
“Hardly.” Jake smiled at Kathryn. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I noticed your expression, and didn’t want you busting out a can of whoop-ass in the middle of your meal. You’re still recovering.”
She stared at him, coy and calculating.
I can’t stay mad at him. He’s my crack-laced Kryptonite, deep-fried and covered in butter.
“What on earth makes you think I’d do that?” Her grin turned sly.
He grabbed a nearby chair, flipping it around to straddle it beside her. When a waitress came up to request his drink order, he said, “Just water.”
She nodded and strolled off while he continued.
“Oh, I know. You look sweet as apple pie, but you’ve got a mean right hook, and I’ve got the medical record to prove it.”
“What?” Kathryn glared at him, incredulous at his nerve. And amused.
The rest of the table egged Jake on to continue.
“Seven years ago,” he said to Kathryn. “You were in a hand-to-hand combat course. Bright eyed. Bushy, um, tailed.”
She giggled, stopping him there. “If I recall correctly, this was a woman-only course, and my instructor was definitely not you.”
Laurie asked, “Because your instructor was a she?” She swung her head toward Jake. “Uh, if you’ve transitioned, you look a-maz-ing!”
Jake laughed, and Kathryn joined him.
“No,” she said. “Captain Alfonso Roberts was a tower of power, beautiful inside and out, and distinctly black.”
Julian’s eyes lit, intrigued as he asked, “Do you keep in touch? Is he single?”
They all laughed as the waitress handed Jake a tall glass of water. He sipped at it, still grinning.
Captivated, Kathryn asked him, “How do you know about the class?”
“I was . . . well, your crash-test dummy.”
Her face froze in amused shock. Her double-take was long and pronounced, hitting almost every part of his body. “Hang on. You? That’s not possible. The guy I sparred with was, like, twelve years old and a beanpole. I even told him to—”
“Eat something,” he said, finishing her sentence.
“Oh my gosh,” Julian blurted. “She’s always telling me the exact same thing.”
Kathryn’s hands flew to her face, covering her flaming cheeks. “It was you. Oh my God. I broke your nose.” She winced at the recollection, reaching out to slide her finger over that very same nose.
“To your credit, you reset it on the spot.” He wiggled it, proving its resilience. “Which hurt like hell. But it taught me a lesson. Keep my guard up, no matter how deceptively cute my opponent is. Though none of them were ever as gorgeous as you.” As he took a last sip, her friends let out a collective aww around the table. “Listen, I just dropped by for a second. Walk me out?”
Kathryn walked out with him, his arm wrapping around the small of her back. “So, I scared you away the first time,” she teased as they strolled into the parking lot.
“Well, I was scared off, all right, but it wasn’t because of your right hook. More like your left ring finger. You were married at the time to a certain military surgeon we both know.”
Nodding, she rubbed the band-free finger. “Fair enough.”
“And if that hadn’t stopped me, you were an officer. Fraternization would have stopped me cold.” He stopped to reconsider. “Eh, maybe.”
“Hmm, I think what might have stopped me is that I’m pretty sure back then you were technically a minor.”
Jake chuckled loudly. “I wasn’t that young. Last I checked, we’re the exact same age.”
“Au contraire,” she said, taking the opportunity to rub his arm. “I’m positive I’m older. Even if only by a few months.”
“Fine. You’re robbing the cradle,” he said, tenderly pressing her back against his truck and sliding his finger from her collar bone to between her breasts. His lips were a breath from hers.
“To be clear,” he said softly, “you might be older, and I’m well aware you can pack a wicked punch. But if I’m around, I’m protecting you. And everyone will know you’re mine.”
His lips captured hers, and when he slipped his tongue inside, she sucked hard on it and pressed her body against his. He pulled away, and she shuddered.
“I didn’t mean to stalk you, kitten. I got a ping on my phone as soon as the SUV left the property, and this was on my way back. I know you have questions, about Chelsea, as well as other things. And I’ve got some of my own. So, when you’re ready, come home, and let’s get to know each other better.” His hands cradled her ass as he gave her one last kiss. “My way.”
Breathless, she nodded.
Slipping a credit card in the back pocket of her jeans, he kissed her again. “Girls’ night is on me. I owe everyone this and more.” He stepped up into his truck, and rolled down the window after starting it up. “I’ll watch you get safely inside. Make sure your friends walk you out. See you in a bit.”
Her fingers trailed off his truck, and she headed back in.
Twenty-Seven
A few hours later, Kathryn returned to the palatial compound she now called home. The lighting was dim, but not dark, lending a warm glow to the interior. Through the glass patio doors, she could see Jake leaning against the balcony wall, enjoying a drink and a cigar, and she headed out.
The perfume of whiskey and cigar smoke breezed across her, bringing back the happier highlights of her travels.
“San Cristobal?” she asked, popping the words with whimsy.
Her question was met with an impressed nod. “You know your cigars. It is. Quintessence.”
“May I?” she asked, and when he nodded, her fingers lifted the cigar from his hand. Expertly, she took a few puffs, then blew out a relaxed breath.
His awestruck stare prompted her smile, and she looked up innocently.
“What? I indulge every now and then. I did some charity work in South America just before I joined the Army.” She admired the cigar between her fingers before handing it back. “Good times.” Her smile beamed from a girl who’d enjoyed a night or two of frivolous fun. “So, are we playing twenty questions?”
He tapped out the cigar on the outside of the railing and set it on the table before leading her back inside. His nod was declarative. “I’m game. But I’m starving.”
“Sure. So you want to eat first?”
The line of his mouth curled up along with a distinctly diabolical brow. “Oh no. I’m eating after our game.”
He led her to the oversiz
ed sofa and offered her a seat, but opted to stand. “Here’s the game. You ask me a question, any question at all. The more you probe, the better. When you’re satisfied I’ve answered your question completely, you remove a piece of clothing. And vice versa.”
“And what happens when we’re out of clothes?” she asked.
He took another sip of his booze, letting his darkened gaze travel over her body. “Then I eat.” He polished off his drink and made his way to grab another. “Would you like one?”
“Definitely.”
A moment later, he brought two glasses to the couch, placing one in her waiting hand.
“Okay,” she said. “Who goes first?”
“Ladies always go first.”
“Lucky me.” She tried not to sound too eager. Pulling in a breath, she said, “Okay, who’s Chelsea Anders?”
After a sip, he seemed to suddenly lose interest in his whiskey neat, and set down the glass.
“Chelsea Anders.” His gaze drifted, staring off into nothing. “Chels was my childhood sweetheart. We were pretty much inseparable since middle school. Did everything together. Dated forever. Whole photo books filled page after page of two kids growing up side by side. We got engaged the night we graduated from high school. But between my training and deployments, we never saw each other. We broke it off after my last deployment.”
He trailed off, struggling to say more.
Keeping the million and one follow-up questions to herself, Kathryn slipped off her leather jacket.
“Should I grab a coat too?” he asked.
Her face filled with mischief. “Too late. The game’s already started. Your turn.”
“My turn.” He settled back into the corner of the sofa, his fingers woven comfortably across his torso. “Did every single thing we did in the shower turn you on?”
Her gaze dropped to her drink. Pretending to whiff the amber liquid, she tried hiding the blush rushing up her cheeks and neck. She took a large swallow and held the glass tightly to her chest as she nodded and raised her head. “Yes.”
He held her gaze for a second before she looked away. Obviously satisfied, he sat up and unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it aside. “Your turn.”
