Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4)

by Irons, Aubrey

  She looks healthier, I’ll give her that. It’s amazing what not injecting chemicals into your veins or shoving them up your nose will do to your skin and general health and well-being. From the looks of things, she’s probably clean, which is certainly something.

  But she’s still got the same jet-black hair, the same dark eyes like twin black-holes dragging in the light and warmth from a room. She’s still pale, still vaguely vampiric looking, which is sort of right on the money considering the bloodsucker she is. She’s still got that crafty, cold smirk on her face, like she’s sizing up prey or looking for a weakness or chink in the armor with any and every social encounter.

  There’s a coldness that seeps into me, seeing her like this. It’s not a comforting familiarity that her presence brings, it’s all the dark parts of my life from way back then; back when I was another man in another time. Sasha is a ghost from a time in my life that I just want to keep in shadow. She's like the remnants of a bad dream that you get another passing glimpse of in your memory weeks later.

  It's not what I can tell Peyton thinks it was from the look on her face, even if I am getting a guilty twinge of satisfaction letting her think that. But that’s not what Sasha and I were. Heroin does lots of things for you. A libido is not one of them. Ours was - fuck, I don't know; an arrangement of convenience?

  But whatever you want to call it, that woman had me in her fucking clutches, and I hate her for it.

  "What's your angle here, Sasha." My voice is leaden and cold, almost as if being near this haunting from my past has me right back to the empty nothingness of heroin addiction all over again.

  "Oh calm down, tough guy," Sasha says with far too much familiarity in her voice as she laughs obnoxiously and dismisses me with a wave of her hand that has me bristling. My eyes dart to Peyton, and the icy grip on my chest tightens as I see the recognition written large across her face, her eyes narrowed as she follows the back and forth between Sasha and myself.

  Fuck; this plan sucks already.

  "I'm here to help, Bryce; nothing more." She smiles at me, as if we're old buddies; "You look well, by the way."

  "I'm clean."

  "Me too."

  "Wonderful," I say shortly, my voice tight.

  "So, you two apparently know each other," Peyton says with the most fake, most insincere smile in the world on her face as she darts her eyes between the two of us.

  "Oh, dear, Bryce and I go way back, you know." Sasha is giving Peyton the fake smile right back, and I'm slowly shaking my head over her shoulder as I lock eyes with Peyton.

  "Super. So where's my brother?"

  Tact; Jesus Christ, Peyton.

  Sasha laughs; a cold, jagged sound; "Jumpy, are we?”

  “Let’s just get to it, Sasha.”

  She rolls her dark eyes, as she pulls a silver case from the back pocket of her black jeans and takes out a cigarette; “My my, clean Bryce is all business now isn’t he?” I give her nothing, keeping my face set and neutral, only shaking my head when she holds the cigarette case my way.

  Sasha sighs dramatically as she produces a small pack of matches and lights her cigarette. She keeps her eyes locked on mine as she inhales, before she turns to lean into Peyton, smoke exhaling through the corner of her blood-red lips; “You know, you really should have seen Mr. ice-cool over here as the life of the party when he got into a little of the nose-candy, if you know what I-”

  “I’m not here for games, and if what I’m told is right, you’re in no position to play either,” Peyton says with lead in her voice, instantly silencing Sasha and making the dark-haired woman draw back in honest surprise.

  Well, damn. The girl’s direct, you have to give her that. I can see Sasha bristle at her own frosty attitude tossed right back at her from the small blonde girl that people like her just seem to love underestimating.

  Sasha narrows her eyes; “Let’s have a seat and get right to it then, shall we?” She smiles thinly at Peyton, her eyes flicking over her as if trying to read her or most likely looking for some sort of weak point.

  Except that girl has thicker walls up than a fucking castle; believe me.

  “Benson and his outfit-”

  “Your outfit.”

  Sasha narrows her eyes at Peyton at her interjection; “Yes, dear. As I was saying, we’ve set up operations in an old Christian monastery north of the city, near Yayla. That’s where your brother is.”

  Peyton frowns; “So he’s just being held in a church? That’s it?”

  “If by ‘just a church’ you mean a fortress from the Crusades with thirty-foot walls and a literal moat, then yes, let’s call it that.” Sasha smiles patronizingly at Peyton, a gloat teasing her lips.

  “Then why didn’t you-”

  “Ok, enough.” This is going fucking nowhere, fast, and I’m also not here to play fucking games with Sasha; “How do we get in, how many guards; details, Sasha.”

  She smiles thinly at me, smoke curling from the tip of the cigarette dangling from her fingers; “How many guards? As if you’re going to walk in the front door and take them?” She rolls her eyes at me patronizingly; “Still a hot-head, I see, Bryce.”

  “Jesus Christ, Sash-”

  “There’s actually just one guard we need concern ourselves with.” There’s a wicked glint in her eye when she winks at me that has me on edge, even before she turns to Peyton; “And you are just his type, darling.”

  Peyton’s brow furrows; “Excuse me?”

  I can feel the hair on my neck standing up, my whole body bristling. She hasn’t even said anything yet, but I know where this is going, and the answer is “over my dead fucking body.”

  “What do you mean ‘his type’?” Peyton says more forcibly, frowning at the way Sasha is just smirking at us both.

  “Oh, please; you’re a bright girl,” Sasha says, crossing her legs and sitting back in her chair as she arches an eyebrow at Peyton. This is classic Sasha; waiting and watching like a fucking vulture, ready to swoop in for the carcass; “His name is Anderson. He’s a sergeant within the Blackriver ranks, close with Benson, access to say, back doors of certain monasteries? He’s not too bright, and he’s a bit of a boorish fellow,” She winks as she reaches out and pushes a lock of Peyton’s hair behind her ear, making her frown; “And he does love the blondes, you know.”

  “Not a fucking chance,” I growl; “Not even an option, there’s no way I’m let-”

  “It’s no problem.”

  I jerk my head towards Peyton, who’s jaw is clenched as she stares at me; “What?”

  “I said it’s no prob-”

  “No, I fucking heard you, but I’m not-”

  “You’re not ‘letting’ or ‘not letting’ me do anything at all, actually,” Peyton says icily, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “Peyton-”

  Sasha starts to laugh as she stamps her cigarette out in the ashtray on the table; “Are you sure you’re up for something like that?” She says, eyeing Peyton.

  “Jesus, I said it’s no problem, and you don’t know me.”

  Sasha shrugs and smiles that sharklike smile at her; “Sounds like you are, then.” She stands abruptly, before I can even say another word; “I’ll be in touch about setting the meet.” She winks at me, and I can feel my frown deepening, my hackles rising; “Lovely to see you again, handsome.”

  And then she’s gone, like a tornado leaving a path of destruction as she blows back out the door.

  “Well, she’s just wonderful isn’t she?” Peyton’s smiling thinly at me across the table, her arms crossed and her brow raised.

  “That is not what you think it-”

  “Hey, none of my business and not my problem, Bryce. None of your dirty little secrets are my problem anymore, remember?”

  I grind my teeth together, carefully eyeing her; “You’re not doing this.”

  “The fuck I’m not. Got a better idea to save my brother?”

  I’m working on it.

  But I’m silent
, staring her down as if the scowl on my face alone is going to change her mind. As if this girl was ever that easy.

  “Peyton, this-”

  “This is what it takes, Bryce; end of discussion.” She stands abruptly and storms out, leaving me alone with the lingering curls of smoke from Sasha’s cigarette and the fury bubbling under my skin about this plan.

  I yank the cotton shawl I've got draped over my shoulders tighter around myself, covering my face against prying eyes and the layered exotic smells of the marketplace as I push my way through the people to get back to the hotel. I can feel my blood simmering just beneath the surface after watching that whole exchange back there between Bryce and her. And I'm also furious at myself for feeling that way. Jealousy is a petty emotion anyways, and certainly not one that I'm going to let him illicit in me.

  "Peyton!"

  I ignore the sound of Bryce's voice behind me as I push my way through the throngs of people threading their way through the crowded spice market.

  "Goddamnit, stop."

  I can feel his hand close around my arm, and the only reason I don't shake it off and turn around to smack him is that we're in a crowd. I ignore it anyways though and continue to push my way through.

  "Jealousy doesn't suit you very well, you know.”

  I whirl, my temper rising even higher as I see the smirk teasing his lips. My eyes pierce wildly into his; "I just don't like liars, Bryce. I thought I’d made that crystal fucking clear before."

  The smirk drops from his lips and he narrows his eyes; he knows what I'm talking about; "And what exactly did I lie about," He growls.

  "About what’s none of my business." I say quickly, trying to push down the rising jealousy inside and hating every second of it.

  Bryce laughs; "What, her?"

  I say nothing, because I don't trust what I might say to that.

  "Jesus you're something else sometimes, you know that?" He snorts and shakes his head; "There's nothing there, you know."

  I shrug as casually as I can; "None of my business if it-"

  He growls and yanks me away from the crowds onto a side street off the market; "Well I'm making it your business, and I'm telling you there's nothing and never was anything there."

  I shrug again, still saying nothing since I don't trust my words, and I can see him roll his eyes exasperatedly at me; "We were addicts together, that’s it. We used to shoot together. There was no romance there, no fucking spark or passion or whatever." His hand tightens on my arm, his eyes flashing as they bore into mine; "She sold me heroin, sometimes I let her use some with me; that's it."

  He looks angrier than I thought he'd be, and for a moment, I feel a pang of guilt for even having brought this up. Honestly, it isn't my business. Whatever is in his past that I don't already know is in his past. It belongs to him, and I've got no right to accuse him of anything or insinuate dishonesty for not sharing something.

  Yeah, this is what being around him does to me. It's been a long freaking year working down the hall from him, by the way.

  "That's a part of my life I left a long fucking time ago."

  Except for the needle I found; the last straw on an already strained relationship if you can even call it that.

  But that's not a conversation for here or for now.

  "Fine," I mumble; "Sorry."

  He looks away, looking conflicted; "Listen, since we're coming clean…”

  I narrow my eyes at him; “Now what.”

  "You need to know something about Blackriver and why they're doing all this; what Benson's goal is."

  I can feel my pulse quicken; "What?"

  "I know why Benson went after Chelsea and Javier, and I know why he took Logan."

  I can feel my pulse thudding in my chest as I swallow heavily, thinking of my brother and wherever he may be; "Revenge?"

  Bryce shakes head; "No." He looks away, raking his fingers through his dark brown hair; "He's after something; something valuable that I found and hid from him," He says quietly.

  "What?" I shake my head; "Hang on, Javier said Benson was adamant that it wasn't about money; that it was about tying up loose end-"

  He barks out a laugh; "Peyton, it's always about money. The whole world is about money."

  "Easy to say when you have it."

  Bryce shoots me a look; "I don't remember your paychecks from Archer being exactly light either, babe. And we both know what both of us had before all that."

  He knows about me and about my past, and in ways no one else does, not even Logan. Just like I know about his.

  "So, what's so valuable?"

  Bryce nods slowly before he turns, his eyes looking right into mine; "Diamonds."

  I can feel my body tense up; "Diamonds? What diam-"

  He turns and looks out towards the sea again; "The diamonds we found out in the jungle in Africa. The ones that I buried."

  P A S T

  “What exactly are you fucking telling us?”

  Rafe is looking at me with that dark, icy stare he gets that pierces through the heavy brows and the thick beard covering his face. I swallow thickly, wincing at the lancing pain of the cracked rib in my side as I try and match his look right back at him; “Jacob’s dead, Rafe; I’m sorry.”

  The muscles in his neck clench tight, and he holds my gaze a second longer before he swears and rips out of his seat, knocking the chair to the ground as he roars. He whirls and puts his fist through the drywall behind him as he howls.

  Rory looks up at me, shaking his head; “What the fuck happened up there in Seattle?”

  Others from the table are getting up trying to calm Rafe down, trying to collect him and let him know they’re all there for him. Because that’s what brothers-in-ink - men of the reaper - do.

  Especially when you find out your son’s dead.

  “We were ambushed; Carter knew we were coming for him and coming for the money. There had to be fifteen guys waiting for us when we kicked in that fuckin door.” Rory’s holding my gaze, and I can feel the hard shell we all wear start to crack around the edges of myself. I can feel myself start to doubt it all, and start to doubt their trust in me.

  After all, I’m not dead.

  “Hey, c’mere brother.” Rory stands and puts his arm around me, clapping me hard on the back. It’s a comfort, even if it hurts like a motherfucker; “You did OK-”

  “Jacob, man-” I’m fighting back emotion and clenching my jaw as he pulls back; “Jacob, he-”

  “Did you abandon him?”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  Rory nods grimly; “Then you did what you did, and this is how it shook out.” He shakes his head; “That’s life under the eye of the reaper, brother. You know it, I know, Jacob sure fuckin knew it, and you better believe Rafe damn well knows it.”

  “I got some of the money-”

  “Fuck the money, man. You’re whole; you’re here. A brother is worth more than a bag of cash, Bryce.”

  Tell that to Jacob.