Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  "Any specific threats?" Carter asks.

  My father actually smiles at him. "No. I suppose it's my anxiety about expanding my family and having more people to worry about. And I'm always conscious that as the business grows in profile, I, and my family, could become increasingly a target of random madmen. The world is such a crazy place these days, and I would never forgive myself if I didn't take every precaution."

  "Dad, you can't have me followed everywhere!" I snap, my voice rising. "And why wouldn't you tell me about this in the first place?"

  "Because I knew you'd react emotionally, like you always do, and like you're doing now. I thought it would be best if you just didn't know about it, but Carter here managed to spot the car almost immediately."

  "They weren't very good," Carter says, a bit smugly.

  "But you are. Which is why I'd like to hire you."

  "Oh my god," I moan.

  "Since Alexa is so resistant to normal security measures, I thought you would be able to handle looking after her in a more...subtle way."

  "I don't need a security guard!" I protest, looking to Carter to back me up, but he's considering my father quietly.

  "I'm not sure I'm looking to get into security," Carter finally says.

  "Look, it's up to you," my father says, "but this could be the start of a new career. The screws in your knee are permanent, yes?"

  "Yes."

  "Why does that matter?" I ask, barely able to follow where this conversation is going.

  Carter pauses for a moment. "It matters because I can't be active service military anymore. I was honorably discharged, as I think your father is well aware."

  "I'm not trying to rub salt in the wound here, Carter," my father says almost gently, leaning across the desk. "My point is that I'm able to offer you a good job with salary and benefits, and you would be able to rehab your knee at the same time. I don't think you're going to find that anywhere else. And it would really put your mother's mind at ease."

  He throws out the last sentence like it was an after-thought, but I think it was anything but. It took me a long time to learn that my father is a master manipulator. Every word he says has been carefully chosen. I tried to learn how to do it, because I had to admit it was a useful skill – the man always gets what he wants. But it never worked for me. Maybe he's right, maybe I am too emotional.

  "Deal," Carter says after an interminable pause.

  "What!?" I explode, jumping out of my chair.

  "Excellent," my father replies.

  "I'll need full access to the security center—"

  "HEY!" I yell. "I don't like being talked around like I'm not even here, and I don't like people making my decisions for me! I don't want anyone following me around!"

  "It's either Carter or Roger and Lewis," my dad says calmly, looking down his nose at me. "And the two of them aren't very good at fitting in," he says, pointing to the window. Roger and his new compatriot, both wearing black suits, are standing on the patio facing us. They both stick out like sore thumbs. Roger nods at me almost apologetically. "And Carter is one of the best. Trust me. I checked."

  I glance at Carter, wondering what the hell his background is. I open my mouth to say something, but like always, my father has taken every good point and thrown it in my face. I turn and march out the door, cursing myself as I go. My father always accuses me of acting like a child, and then I go ahead and prove him right. It's like he creates the vacuum and I fill it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I can't sleep. I feel stifled, like my cotton sheets are choking me. Angrily, I kick them off, down to the foot of the bed. Not that it makes me feel any better.

  When I was a teenager, moving my bedroom out here had made me feel a little more autonomous, like I was out of my father's grasp, but now it seems he has extended his reach. I stand up and walk around the room, trying some deep belly breathing to calm myself down. All I can think about is Carter and him, discussing my fate like I didn't even have a say. I wouldn't have expected that from Carter, but I guess my dad can make anyone do what he wants.

  I stride over to the window facing the house and pull it open. The night air is cool and I close my eyes, feeling it blow against my face. I open them again and spot a mosquito throwing itself uselessly against the wire screen. Up at the house, a light in the far wing turns on.

  I still as I see Carter illuminated against the bright light of his bedroom. I glance around furtively, but there's no way he can see me with the lights off in the boat house. He wears only a towel around his waist, and I watch as he runs a hand through his now short hair. I bet he was showering to rinse off all the pesky little hairs.

  I inhale quickly as he whips off his towel, turning to drop it behind him. I get a glimpse of his ass before he turns to lean on the windowsill, seemingly lost in thought. I know I'm intruding on a private moment, but I can't help letting my eyes travel down his body...down the perfectly chiseled abs to the lines of his hips that beckon my glance even further. Thank goodness I have 20/20 vision.

  He raises his arm, running his fingers once over the scar on his right temple, then feeling backward as it disappears under his hair. He gaze shifts from looking out over the ocean over to the boat house, and I feel like he's looking directly at me.

  I feel pain and anger swirl up inside me. Not only did he lash out at me unfairly today, he then completely ignored my wishes and is now in cahoots with my father. I turn away from the window and hop back into bed, crawling up from the foot and depositing myself with an angry sigh on the mattress.

  When I wake up the next morning, my jaw is sore from gritting my teeth while I was sleeping. I don't remember my dreams, but I'm pretty sure they weren't pleasant. I pull on some loose-fitting jeans and a tank top, and stuff my feet into some slippers. I wish there were a kitchen out here. That's the one drawback of living in the boat house. At least it's a weekday, so my father will be at work.

  No, fuck. It hits me: today's Thanksgiving. That means all family, all day. Great. Just great. I'll have to see my dad and Carter, and Jack won't even be here to break up the tension. Football games on Thanksgiving? The NFL is crazy.

  I shuffle over to the main house, my desire for coffee outweighing my desire to hide. I press in the key code as I spot Anne behind the counter. She glances up with a friendly smile as I let myself in.

  "Morning! I just made the coffee about fifteen minutes ago if you want some."

  "Thanks," I murmur, unaccustomed to being greeted with such cheeriness.

  "Bree and Carter aren't up yet, but I thought I'd get started on some chopping," she says, waving her hand at an array of vegetables on the island in front of her.

  "Oh, you're a...a chef, right?" I ask, searching my brain for some information about her passed on from Jack.

  "Hardly. I own a small restaurant...ABC Diner. A for Anne, B for Bree, C for Carter," she explains. "I created all the recipes, mostly interpretations of some stuff passed down in my family, but I'm not classically trained or anything. So, you never told me, are there any dishes in particular you wanted to have today?"

  "You know, we were never that big on holidays," I explain.

  "Gotcha. So, you have to tell me more about Paris. Bree and I visited, but we were just at the hospital the whole time. You were working for a start-up, is that right?"

  "Umm..." I pause, unsure if I want to continue in my lie. My father already knows, and though it seems like he didn't share the information, it seems silly not to tell the truth now. "No...that was...I was hoping to, but it didn't work out. I ended up working in a bakery."

  "Feel like whipping up a loaf?" she asks with a smile, and I laugh.

  "Honestly, never again."

  How did my father manage to snag this woman? I wonder as she tells me more about her diner. She seems sweet, down-to-earth, and smart. I follow her gaze as she looks toward the doorway leading to the front of the house. Carter is standing there in a white tank top and jeans. My hormones surge forward, and I pu
sh them down through sheer force of will.

  "Happy Thanksgiving!" Anne greets her oldest. "Look at your haircut! You look so different! Coffee's fresh. And Ray told me that he worked out an arrangement with you two! I mean, it just sounds so convenient, doesn't it?"

  "Mmhm," I answer, taking a sip of coffee to avoid having to expand on my response.

  "I think he's being silly with all this security. But I do wonder if Bree and Carter both getting hurt had more of an effect on him than he's letting on. The fragility of life, and that sort of thing."

  "Bree got hurt?" I ask.

  "Yeah, she tripped while she was out on a jog and hit her head. She was concussed and had to get stitches."

  "That must have been tough on you."

  "It was," Anne replies, pausing her movements for a second. "I still think your father is overreacting, though I do appreciate the sentiment."

  Sentiment. Not something I've ever thought of my father having before. Though if what Anne says about his motivations is accurate, maybe I judged him a bit harshly. It's just that nothing about our history together has shown him to be anything other than a massive control freak.

  "Need any help?" Carter asks his mom in his low, throaty voice.

  "No, you just sit and enjoy your coffee."

  Carter glances at the counter stool next to me and slowly walks over and sits. I deliberately don't look at him. There's silence for a moment as we sip our coffees and Anne continues chopping.

  "So, what are you making today?" I finally ask. Anne describes the various dishes and I make her promise to let me know if she needs any help. Unfortunately, our respite only lasts a little while longer, as Anne slips a casserole dish in the oven and announces she's going to go work out in the gym while it cooks. As soon as she's safely in the foyer, I stand up and walk to the back door.

  "Going back to the boat house?" Carter asks as I put my hand on the knob.

  "I like your mom, and I want her to have a nice Thanksgiving. But I'm not going to pretend when she's not around," I say flatly.

  "Pretend?"

  "That I'm happy about this new arrangement. I think you and my dad are birds of the same feather."

  "We're nothing alike," he replies, his jaw clenching.

  "Really? You both like to be in control. You let me help you until you decided I got too close. And now you're asking me for my whereabouts."

  "I'm supposed to protect you."

  "Or control me. Either way, don't expect me to make it easy for you," I say with a smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  I pull off my jeans and pull on a pair of cotton pajama pants. Jeans at a Thanksgiving meal are never a good choice, and it turns out that Anne is an excellent cook so I ate even more than I thought was possible. I also fervently wish that I hadn't decided to give up alcohol, because having to spend that much time pretending that everything is swell would have been much easier with a few glasses of wine in me.

  Not that everything was bad. I like Anne, and Bree, too, though she's still rather shy around me. Every now and then she'll say something with an undertone of mischievousness that makes me think there's more to her than meets the eye.

  I hear a yell and a splash and freeze for a moment in the middle of my room, then hurry over to the window. The floodlights on the back of the house illuminate two figures in the pool, but they're moving around and I can't figure out who they are. I dash across my room and fly down the steps, then sprint over the grass as the two men surface and I finally recognize them. The security men run out from the house just as I dive into the pool. The cold shocks me for a moment, but I kick hard even as my clothing pulls me back.

  I surface behind Carter and jump on his back, flinging my arms around his neck. "It's Jack!" I yell in his ear. "My brother!" He stops mid-lunge and over his shoulder, I see Jack shaking the water from his eyes to see who just tackled him. "Hi, Jack," I say, arms still around Carter. It's too deep for me to stand here anyway.

  "Lex," he replies grimly, clearly none too pleased by the situation. "And who the hell is this?" he asks, nodding at Carter.

  "This is our new step-brother," I say with a cheery smile.

  "Oh, wonderful," Jack replies sarcastically.

  "Sorry," Carter says, clearing his throat. "I thought you were an intruder."

  I let myself slide off of his back and swim over to Jack to give him a hug. "You OK?" I ask, examining him for bruises. He and Carter look like physical matches for each other, but Carter had the element of surprise. Jack is lucky he tackled him into the pool instead of the hard tiles surrounding it. "What are you doing here so late anyway?"

  "I just wanted...wanted to see everyone," he explains.

  "What's going on?" I glance up to the side of the pool to see the entire household lined up. I look over to Bree, who asked the question.

  "From what I can gather, Carter tackled Jack into the pool because he thought he was coming to kill me, or you, or maybe all of us," I say as Jack and I walk into the shallows and up the steps onto dry land.

  "That's quite an introduction," Bree says, looking from her brother to Jack, her mouth twitching as though she's holding back a laugh.

  "Not funny," Jack grumbles, narrowing his eyes at her. She shrugs with a giggle, and the household begins to disperse. He sighs. "I need a beer. Lex, talk tomorrow?"

  I nod and the two of them walk into the kitchen together. I smile, glad to see they've become friends, and happy to see my older brother again. I turn back to the boat house, feeling suddenly chilly in my soaking wet clothes.

  "Alexa!" I hear Carter call after me, followed by splashing sounds. His feet slap against the stones behind me as I punch in the code for the boat house. He catches the door before it closes and follows me up the stairs.

  "Go away!" I call after him as I stomp into my room.

  "Alexa. Would you rather have me or your father's security goons following you?"

  "Security goons."

  "Liar. You know I'm better than them."

  "Don't care."

  "Well, I do. You need to accept the fact that I'm going to be watching after you."

  "Fine," I reply, and pull my soaking wet top off and toss it through the open bathroom door and onto the tile.

  "What are you doing?" he asks with a frown.

  "Just going about my life," I reply, pulling off my pajama pants and throwing them after my top. I stand in front of him in my underwear, which is practically see-through now that it's wet. "With you watching."

  "Obviously we need to establish some boundaries," he replies. I stare at him, my head cocked slightly to the side.

  "Obviously," I say. "First off, don't tackle any of my family members."

  "I acted on instinct," he growls. "If I had stopped to—Alexa!" he breaks off as I reach behind me and unsnap my bra, dropping it to the floor.

  "Feel free to leave at any time," I murmur.

  He clears his throat. "If I had stopped to question whether—" I hook my fingers around my panties and push them to the ground, stepping cleanly out of them.

  He stares at me for a moment, his eyes consuming my naked body, and then strides across the floor, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me tightly against him.

  "This is a terrible idea," he grunts, one hand grasping my hair as the other slides across my ass.

  "Don't think I'm not still pissed at you," I mutter back, taking the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head as he momentarily drops his arms.

  "Wouldn't dream of it," he breathes, his lips inches from mine. My body temperature spikes as he covers my mouth with his. I've never wanted someone more.

  He grabs my ass cheeks with both hands, pulling me against his hips. His erection presses into me, and I remember his massive size with a shiver. Our tongues dance together and he begins to walk me back toward the bed. Just before we reach it, I take his hips in my hand and turn him around, then hook my foot behind his ankle and pull, tripping him backward onto the bed. I fall on top of him, grindi
ng against his cock as I press my mouth against his.

  He groans, and I slide down, kissing his neck and then biting down hard on the muscle next to his throat. I continue on, wanting to taste every inch of him. I feel his coarse chest hair against my lips and nose, and then move to the side, sucking his right nipple into my mouth. I kiss and lick down the middle of his abs, guided by the line in between them straight over his belly button and down to his happy trail. I unbutton and unzip his jeans and then take them and his boxers in my fingers and lift them up and over his cock and then all the way down to the floor, leaving them in a wet mess on the ground.

  I bounce right back up, spreading my palms over his hips and biting the inside of his thigh. His hips begin to rise off the bed, his cock searching for my mouth, but I take my time, licking my way between his thick thighs. Finally, I use my tongue to guide one of his balls into my mouth, sucking on it as I gently roll it around my mouth. I watch his hands fist in my duvet cover as he attempts to restrain himself. I pull my mouth back and then slowly lick up from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, flicking my tongue back and forth across the sensitive ridge on its underside. I do it again and again until I hear him moaning, then I wrap my lips around my teeth and take him into my mouth.

  I hear him take a sharp breath of air as his cock slides against my tongue and then hits the back of my mouth. I wrap one hand around the rest of his length, and then begin to bob my head up and down, never letting up on the pressure from my lips and fingers. With my other hand, I take his balls and massage them, then begin to swirl my lips back and forth as I also move up and down.

  "Oh, fuck, Alexa..." he groans, and I see his neck and jaw muscles are straining against release. Suddenly, I pull back, releasing my mouth and hands. His eyes fly open, but I've already grabbed a condom from my bedside table and am ripping it open with my teeth. I quickly guide it onto his cock as he watches me with hungry, half-lidded eyes.

  I climb onto the bed, straddling him with my knees far apart to accommodate his size. He reaches forward and slides his middle finger across my wet clit. I gasp, aching to feel him inside me. I can't wait. I sink down on top of him, my eyes watering with need as I feel his cock stretch my opening and press inside me.