Hunter reached over to the knobs and pressed the screen until the music shut off. He growled, “Without mentioning why I’m like this.” Hunter lifted his left thigh, staring at the smooth skin of his kneecap.
Hawk one-handed the steering wheel and looked at him again. “Little bro—”
“That motherfucker tried to kill me! Two years was all he got? He should be dead.”
Making quick work of the steering wheel, Hawk swerved into the suicide lane. The seatbelt clutched at Hunter but not enough, he braced himself, palms slamming into the dashboard for more leverage.
“What’d you do that for?” Hunter asked.
“Do we need to go into another decade with you hating, Donavan Hardy? He did two years for what happened to you, though I truly doubt he tried to murder you. Before that, I distinctively recall that the two of you were closer than you and me, brother.”
“And?”
“And he broke! He fucking broke, Hunter. Just like you! The only difference is, from day one, the guy tried! Donavan Hardy came to the army. He fucking came out swinging and did his best. In the end, he just wasn’t ready. We all learned that the hard way.”
“We learned? What does my disability have to do with we?” Hunter yelled, his heart slamming against his chest with each beat. “I was doing bad all by myself. You should’ve left me on the street corner where you found me earlier today. Matter of fact, stop finding me!”
Hawk scoffed. “And what about our mother? She’s cried for you at almost every holiday for eight years. I get you. Bring you home. You go AWOL like a friggen kid! What about Mom, huh!”
Hunter’s hard gaze flitted away from his older brother. He didn’t have anything to say about their mother. “Doesn’t matter. Our mom is . . . who she is. What matters right now, is that you’d take up for that asshole over blood—over me.” He slammed a fist against his chest.
Hawk rubbed a hand over his face then glanced out the window. A big rig drove by, making a loud swoosh sound against his ride. When he spoke, his words were low. “While we both were on tour, you’d write me these letters, ones that if Dad had seen, he’d have beaten the dog shit outta you. He’d have told you that you didn’t have the fucking right to kill yourself—that you didn’t have the right to embarrass him by taking yourself out, Hunter! The LTG has two cares in the world: getting back home to our mom and being all that he can be in the army.”
A psychotic chuckle escaped Hunter as he listened to a more than accurate assessment. Their dad, the Lieutenant General, saw his sons as war machines.
“I did nothing, Hunter. I ignored your letters—read every single last one of ‘em—but I tossed them into the wastebasket and did my job because that’s the man our father raised. While you . . .” He paused to lick his lips. “I didn’t think you’d make it, Hunter. I prayed to the Lord above that someone else’s bullet and not your own caught up with you and ended you quickly. For Mom’s peace of mind and Dad’s . . .”
It felt like Hunter was drowning. An imaginary beep resounded in his ears, and he didn’t hear another word his brother had to say. A flush of heat and shame burned over Hunter’s skin. He couldn’t stand to stare at his brother for a second because he knew that Hawk was sinking in his own guilt. Had the situation been reversed, Hunter, too, would have tossed the letters, which were a big cry for help, maybe not even read them. They weren’t close brothers. Hawk tried to be, every once in a while, like he was now, coming almost a thousand miles to force him home. But their dad had done a number on them.
With a gulp of air, he was able to tune back in as his brother spoke.
“I can pretty much guess that Hardy helped the two of you go from Private to Corporal, Corporal McIntosh.” Hawk spoke almost to himself. His tone held the same inflection of pride that their father’s had when Hunter became Corporal. “If he had consented to a psych eval, he wouldn’t even have done time at Fort Leavenworth. I think there’s more honor in admitting that you fucked up, Hunter, than being a little bitch and talking out your feelings. It doesn’t erase what happened to our family, brother, but he took his punishment like a man.”
Hunter glared at his brother, bristling in anger. The side of his temple rested against the chilled passenger window. He turned his body away from his brother as Hawk merged back onto the freeway. The last thing he heard him say was that Donavan Hardy had just made a mistake.
A mistake that ruined his life.
9
Avery
Avery woke up with a groan. She couldn’t wait for Anya’s birth so that she could sleep on her stomach again because the morning sun was just too bright. Donavan loved to have the windows open. She’d rather damn near suffocate under her pillow and burrow under blankets.
She glanced at the clock. Dang. He’d gotten Junior ready and gone to school. Avery picked up her cell phone from the nightstand and saw a photo text message from Antonio.
“Wow!” The picture on the screen was enough to engage almost every one of her senses. A blonde was walking along a field of lavender flowers, her dress flowing perfectly.
She texted him back.
AVERY: AMAZEBALLS! Where is that place?? Heaven. Cute girl too.
It wasn’t until she showered and dressed in leggings and a comfy shirt, her go-to for so late in the pregnancy game, that she received a response.
ANTONIO: Ha! Nobody’s tying me down yet.
AVERY: Could’ve fooled me. You don’t spend Valentine’s away from the champagne for no other reason.
ANTONIO: First of all . . .
ANTONIO: I’m still team AC. Yo mama was having that event.
ANTONIO: Second of all . . .
She began to chuckle as he sent a mass of snippy responses.
AVERY: Okay, I get it. You’re staying at campus until Anya arrives. I’m proud of your focus baby brother.
AVERY: Finally Proud!
She grinned, exiting out of the stream of messages from her brother to ask Donavan if he’d returned home yet. She received a prompt response that he was still out.
Avery cocked an eyebrow. She wondered where he was. She thought to tell him that she was going to go see Maxine but decided not to. Since they lived and worked together, Avery didn’t want to be one of those psycho partners who had to know of her man’s whereabouts at every second.
* * *
Gem on the Block operated from a beachfront bungalow. The magazine had started as a blog about fifteen years ago out of this very home. The women who owned the company had opted to stay humble, nevertheless the setting was spot on for what their readers wanted. A white picket fence surrounded the home, and the flowers were neatly trimmed. And though it catered to homes, the magazine also featured a calendar of family fun events around the Myrtle Beach area. The magazine was beginning to attract more subscribers outside of Horry County and other areas in South.
“We need this.” Avery told herself, seated in her Audi, grimacing at the idea of apologizing to Maxine Winters.
She looked out toward the east to the tranquil rush of the ocean. From out of nowhere, her body jarred. Anya had drop-kicked her kidney. Avery took that as a sign to get out and be the bigger woman. The sun shined above, and a pleasant floral scent filled her nostrils as she walked up to the house, offering a note of serenity.
On the door was a sign that read Welcome, and she hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The aesthetic of the home was wide-open spaces with a secretary at a desk in the center of the room. To the right was a room with French doors, which Avery had to assume was once a dining room that now offered the amenities of a chic office.
“Welcome to Gem; how can I help you?”
Avery put on a pleasant façade. “I’m here to see a friend of mine, Maxine Winters.”
The secretary looked down at her computer then said, “I don’t have you on my roster as a potential meeting today.”
“I know. Is she here? If she is, can you tell her Avery Castle would—”
“You’re the d
eaf woman? You hardly sound like the rest of them—”
Feeling someone else’s presence, Avery’s eyes moved away from the secretary who didn’t have a malicious face to go with the idiotic words coming out of her mouth.
A woman with graying hair and a turtleneck—quite like Diane Keaton would wear in the summertime—had opened the French doors. She held a hand out to Avery. “Forgive my niece. It’s that unwritten rule where hiring family has yet to be made a crime. I’m Gem.”
“Avery Castle.” She gave her hand a firm shake. “I called Maxine a few times before arriving here. She refuses to take my calls. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Yes, I am, and I have final say of what’s printed in my magazine. Now, I must apologize for Maxine’s behavior. She is no longer with us.”
“Did my father call you?” The question lurched out of Avery’s mouth all too quickly. Dammit, he still took it upon himself to intervene in my life!
“I wish.” Gem gave a flamboyant laugh, which Avery assumed rang out like music as she showed her perfect teeth. “I would love for the Castle home to grace our covers one of these days.”
Eyebrows stitching together just slightly, Avery stared at Gem for a moment. There was a serious disconnect between the two subjects, but Gem was being friendly.
“Now, I have photos of the Baudelaire Plantation—or do you prefer Estate for the feature?” Gem asked.
“Um, well, Estate please.”
“That’s settled. Maxine left very nice photos when she resigned and a few notes. I will use those for the feature. Much success to you, Ms. Castle.”
* * *
A seagull swooped across the yard as Avery exited the magazine office. Biting her lip, she descended the stairs of the porch. She knew just where to go—her father’s office. The place made her jittery. He had a crew of goons, and not the kind in shiny suits, but guys in black army fatigues and with ear pieces. The kind of guys who looked like they knew how to kill you in a million different ways, stationed in various areas of the building. She’d only visited his office once as a kid but recalled the exact location as it was downtown Myrtle Beach near her mother’s favorite upscale shopping center.
The building was nondescript. It had no brand and a gated entrance. She expected to speak with the security in the shanty, but the gates opened. There were imports and black or blue Suburbans all throughout the lot. It took almost thirty minutes to find a parking spot. After twenty minutes, Avery had finally walked to the entrance. A lime green and dark blue motorcycle about thirty yards away caught her eye. It was the same kind Donavan had. But she knew that her fiancé wouldn’t take their son to school on a bike; moreover, he loathed her father too much. She was already breathing heavy as it was and didn’t need to play into her own personal conspiracies by walking over to check the license plate. She headed toward the tinted, sliding glass door.
For a big cement building without any distinguishing features, the inside was impressive with sleek black walls. This time the receptionist knew her by sight and gave a genuine grin. “Ms. Castle, are you here to see your father?”
“Yes. What floor does he work on?”
“Well, the second you pulled into the gates, he was advised to come down to you.” Her gaze swept over Avery. “I love baby bellies. May I offer you anything to drink? Sparkling water or—”
“No thank you. I’d just like to speak with him right now. If you don’t mind. It would be nice to go through those elevators, but I don’t know what floor he works on.” Avery glanced at the elevators. She recalled feeling like she was in the middle of a secret agent movie when her father had pressed his thumbprint on a screen for the elevator doors to open. The panels still didn’t have the standard up or down buttons, but now, in place of the thumbprint panel, there was an upgraded thingamabob on it.
Those damn heebie-jeebies had returned with a vengeance. Avery had intended on asking her father point blank why Maxine had resigned from her job. Now, she wanted to leave and not return. She wanted to be the complacent child she’d been when it came to her father’s work years ago.
The term none of ya business rang true. Alexander’s job was the reason why Verdrena and he had fought in the past. Long work hours and great, lengthy extended trips overseas was exactly why Avery had grown further away from her father and closer to little Donavan.
Avery gulped and stalked back out the building. She knew the woman was probably calling after her. But she also knew, after a few seconds, the secretary would stop calling her name, realizing that it was useless.
Outside, Avery took a deep breath and glanced toward the motorcycle.
10
Donavan
Earlier . . .
Donavan had made love to Avery last night, and crept silently out of bed, praying to God the best part of him remained asleep in order for him to attend his ten a.m. meeting with Alexander Castle, without having to lie about where he’d been.
Junior had begged to ride on the back of his Kawasaki to school. In his attempt to be the best father he could be, he caved to Junior’s request. It felt like a snub to his bully when Junior got off the back of the bike. Half the elementary school was pulling in for the morning. There were slaps of high fives and other exclamations as Junior walked from the curb while the little shit of a bully was being popped in the back of his head and shoved out of the minivan by his middle-school aged brother.
Now, Donavan sat in the lobby of Vitality. The walls were sleek and black. Despite the dreary thoughts of waking up to yet another nightmare this morning, reminding him of his camaraderie with Hunter McIntosh—before Donavan’s deception—he felt relief.
While he waited, he told himself that the girl who forced him to save trees and slapped the shit out of him for doing bad things in school did not have to know this part of him. Hell, she knew he wasn’t a good man, but just being in her presence made him good.
“And what if you have PTSD?”
Donavan shoved that thought out of his head. Anyway, it was a little too late for that crap. There was no such thing as angry with Avery as his happy.
“I thought you’d hold out a lil’ longer,” a familiar, hard voice said.
Donavan stood from his wide legged stance. Green, the lap dog that found him at the bar with Willie two days ago, was standing right before him. Green nodded his head and did an about face. They headed toward the elevators. He placed his palm against a sensor, and the doors swooshed open. “If I were you, I’d keep my wits about me.”
“You aren’t me.” Donavan gritted. Of course, the guy was right. He needed to watch his six at all times and even more in the company of Castle. The elevator moved smoothly up the flights, further implying that everything in this place was top of the line. It stopped on a dime at the top floor.
When they exited, the Vitality seal was on a navy-blue wall across from them. They stopped at a set of black glossy doors.
“You ready?” Green cocked a bushy eyebrow, hands on both door handles.
Donavan stepped forward, not in need of any assistance, but Green pushed both doors open.
Right before them, about twenty yards away in a massive office, Alexander sat behind a desk, fingers steepled together. A wet bar was to one side, couches on the other. A floor-to-ceiling aquarium divided the room into segments with yet another set of plush couches. Jumping straight off one of those couches was a man with plastic-like burned skin covering his jaw, running down and no doubt extending beneath the collar of his long sleeve thermal.
A fist was poised to slam into Donavan’s face. His left forearm took the brunt of the blow in the nick of time.
Tripp immediately grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the wet bar.
“Wait, that came from Italy,” Alexander hissed as the glass shattered over Donavan’s forehead.
An uppercut sent Tripp reeling backward.
“You fuck.” Donavan pointed a stiff finger at him as he righted his footing. “Calm down, I just want to apologize!”
Tripp threw all his weight against Donavan, causing them both to drop onto the ground. He issued a succession of body shots to Donavan’s liver, his fists moving a mile a minute. Donavan brought his arms in tight around his sides, turned, and grappled with Tripp until he was on top.
Tripp struggled on the ground, tossing his elbow back until Donavan locked it beneath his bicep. His other arm squeezed at Tripp’s neck. Just calm down, brother, just calm down. Due to the strength he expended while restraining Tripp, Donavan realized he hadn’t spoken the words aloud. He grunted out his request. “Please, calm the fuck down!”
Tripp continued to wiggle. The back of his head slammed into Donavan’s jaw. Donavan locked his leg around Tripp’s, pulling his leg and his neck in different directions.
“You done yet?” Donavan growled as Tripp stopped focusing on fighting and attempted to suck in air. His powerful frame began to start slipping. The idiot was going to go unconscious soon.
At the last possible second, the tip of Tripp’s fingertips tapped against Donavan’s forearm.
“Now that we’ve gotten the theatrics over with,” Alexander began as they slowly stood up.
Donavan glanced around him. Aside from a chair laying on its side and the shattered bottle and spilled liquid, the room was spotless. He rubbed the back of his hand along his jaw, glaring at Green. This was what he had meant about being on his guard. Though Donavan had held his own, a real heads-up might have helped more.
Another punch came summersaulting toward his nose. He ducked.
“Kill me, bitch! That’s what you might as well have tried to do that last time I laid eyes on your sorry ass.” Tripp spit out blood. He swayed into his next attempt at a jab, Donavan deflected it. Tripp started to fall again. The fool was probably still lightheaded from the choking, but this was becoming ridiculous.
Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance Page 7
