Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  "Wow," I reply, downing the rest of my champagne.

  "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I weren't serious about you. I'm thinking, maybe after six months or so there, we get engaged, and then another six months after, we get married. I'd prefer a London wedding, myself."

  I feel a bit dizzy, and rub my temples. "William, this feels like it's moving a little quickly."

  "I know, but the job in London starts at the end of the month. And I did warn you when I met you: I know what I like."

  "Right. Well, is it alright if I think about it for a little?"

  He looks momentarily taken aback, but covers it quickly. "Sure, but like I said, end of the month. So..."

  "Right. I'll think about it, I promise. And thank you for asking me, of course."

  He smiles and looks down at the menu. I stare down at the appetizers, but my mind can't focus. Move to London, get married, then come the children...my life would be set. That's what most of the other marriages that I saw growing up looked like...the wife enjoying the country club while the husband went off to make money. Sure, he'd have affairs, but he'd keep them discreet and quiet, and the wife would pretend she didn't notice.

  "Do you know what you'd like to order?" the waiter says, reappearing next to us.

  "I need another minute," I reply with a wan smile.

  I don't know what we talk about for the rest of dinner. In fact, a circus could have performed in the middle of the restaurant and I would have had no idea. William seems optimistic, or at least satisfied, that I will accept his offer, and we leave each other with a chaste kiss as I tell him that the champagne has given me a headache.

  On the ride home, I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window. I need a break from my own head. I wish I'd had another drink or two at the restaurant, that always helps. There's really only one person I want to ask for advice, but I'm not sure he even wants to talk to me right now. I did apologize, but things just haven't been the same.

  "Roger, is Carter at home, do you know?" I ask.

  "I hope not!" he replies, sounding surprisingly jolly.

  "Why's that?"

  "It would mean his date didn't go very well."

  "His date?" I ask, as my heart freezes.

  "Yeah, didn't I say?" he replies, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I do my best to appear simply inquisitive.

  "You just said he asked for the night off."

  "He's on a date," he clarifies. "Said it was someone he met at the hospital."

  Petra, no doubt. "Sounds fun," I offer.

  Well, I guess he's moved on. Not that there was ever really anything to move on from. And hell, I've been dating William. So why do I feel like I want to jump out of my skin?

  We pull up into our driveway and I hop out. "Thanks, Roger!" I call as I head around the side of the house. I glance toward the boat house, but I don't want to be alone in my bedroom right now. I look around the pool deck. Empty. I'm sure the security is watching me somehow, but what's really the difference between my bra and underwear and a bikini?

  The air is cold, but I know the water is heated. I unzip the back of my cocktail dress and lay it carefully on the back of one of the lounge chairs, then take a towel from the cabinet next to the house. I hurry down the steps of the shallow end as a cool wind picks up.

  The water is like a warm bath, and I sink gratefully into it. To my surprise, as I relax, tears begin to slip down my cheeks. I didn't even realize I'd been holding them in.

  I suppose I'd always hoped, somewhere in the back of my mind where I never acknowledged it, that Carter was simply unavailable. That he wasn't in a place to have a relationship with anyone. But it seems like the truth is that he just didn't want to have a relationship with me.

  Can I blame him? I threw myself at him when we first met. He probably never considered me to be the kind of girl that you ask out on a date. Only good for a quick fuck, and then leave before morning.

  Maybe I should go with William. I could get away from this house, from my father, and from Carter. It'll probably be even worse to see him now, knowing he has a girlfriend, and with our friendship now completely on the rocks.

  I dive under the water and open my mouth and scream. I can hear it carry through the water, but only bubbles rise to the surface as evidence. I just want to get away from here...from myself. But what's that expression...wherever you go, there you are?

  I've tried not being where I am. Pursuing unavailable men, drinking too much...both escapes from feeling what I feel. At least William wants me. Or whoever he thinks I am, which seems to be some fragile jewel that he will keep carefully at home, and then trot out at formal occasions to be admired. Isn't she beautiful? And the daughter of famous shipping magnate Ray Stratton! What a find!

  I let myself sink to the bottom of the pool, blowing bubbles out of my mouth until there's no more oxygen left in my lungs to keep me afloat. I feel the cool tiles against the backs of my thighs, and stare up at the surface of the water. It's peaceful down here. The blue underwater lights give the gently lapping water a surreal glow under the inky sky. I just want to stay down here and hide from my problems.

  I start to feel lightheaded but I don't move. I let my eyes close. I don't want to resurface. It's too hard up there. Too complicated. I wonder if this is how my mother felt before she took the pills. Remarkably clear-headed. Rational. At peace.

  You'll only prove your father right, a voice suddenly rings out in my head, clear as a bell. You are not your mother.

  My eyes fly open and I struggle toward the surface of the water. My arms flail out uselessly, my oxygen-deprived brain unable to send them clear signals. My mouth, too, is in disconnect. I open my lips and gasp for air, but only water rushes down my throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next thing I know, I'm on my hands and knees on the pool deck, coughing water out of my lungs. There's a buzzing sound in my ears, but gradually I become aware that someone is yelling at me.

  "—fucking death wish? What the fuck were you thinking?!" I look up and blink until Carter comes into view. He's standing above me, sopping wet. Oh, shit. I want to respond, but first I need air. "How much have you had to drink tonight." I sit back onto my ass and raise two fingers. "Two what? Bottles?"

  I glare at him and take a breath. "Glasses of champagne." Suddenly I'm freezing and wrap my arms around myself to stay warm.

  "Oh, fuck," he groans, and takes my towel from the deck chair and wraps it around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you inside." He doesn't wait for me to stand, but leans over and scoops me up. I let my head rest against his chest as he walks me across the patio toward the boat house.

  "Very strong," I murmur drowsily.

  "What?"

  "From physical therapy." I can feel how even his stride is, no limp at all. And he's carrying me like I weigh nothing. "All healed."

  He walks me up the boat house steps and into my bathroom, depositing me gently on the bath mat. I watch him as he stands and reaches into the shower, turning it on hot. The bathroom quickly begins to steam up, and he kicks off his soggy shoes and fishes his sopping wet wallet and phone out of the pockets of his slacks.

  "Sorry," I whisper.

  "Yeah, you fucking should be, Lex! Maybe you don't care at all about yourself, but there are people in your life who care about you."

  I wince. "I said I was sorry."

  "Christ, do you know what it was like to see you lying at the bottom of a pool?"

  "I wasn't trying to...I mean, I was, but then I—"

  He kneels in front of me, staring daggers into my eyes. "How dare you?" he hisses.

  "I—"

  "How could you be so selfish? Knowing how much you miss your mother, how could you possibly consider, even for a moment, inflicting that kind of pain on your family, on me?"

  Tears begin to flow down my face. "You really think that's what I need to hear right now? It's not about you!"

  I hear him take a deep breath as I bury my face ag
ainst my knees. "I'm sorry," he says. I feel his arms wrap tentatively around me, and then after a moment, he pulls me tight against his chest. "I'm sorry. I was so angry when—no, no, that’s not true. I was terrified. I was fucking terrified when I saw you down there."

  "I tried to swim back up, really I did, but it was too late."

  "It's alright now," he says, stroking my head.

  "No, no it's not. I mean, fuck, I've made a mess out of everything. I spent the last of my money on college, and I'm not even there. I can barely remember the last fucking month because I've been so drunk, and now William wants me to move to London with him!"

  "Are...are you going to go?" I feel his hand stop.

  "What do you care?" I sniff. "We barely even talk anymore, and now you're dating Petra."

  "How did you—" he stops himself. "We're not dating. We went on a date."

  "No, I get it," I assure him, leaning back so I can look him in the eye. "She's great. I think you're a perfect match."

  "Oh, you do?" Is that a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth? "I don't."

  "Well, why'd you go out with her then?"

  "I was hoping it would help."

  "Help what?"

  He sighs and runs his fingers over his wet hair, sending water droplets spraying onto the tiles. "Help how I feel when I see you going on dates with William. Because that fucking sucks."

  I stare at him. "But you said you can't stand the idea of being close to someone. Anyone. And now here you are going out with Petra."

  "I'm not in any danger of getting close to Petra. I just, well, I was fucking lonely and couldn't watch that guy take you out to another expensive place. But then, at dinner, I realized I was being a complete asshole to Petra, essentially using her. I mean, she's great, but she's not..."

  "What?"

  "You."

  I feel my heart leap in my chest, and have to take a deep breath to calm down. "But haven't we been down this road before? You've had plenty of chances with me, Carter."

  "You're right. I guess I thought I didn't deserve to be happy, with what happened in my unit. It was just easier to turn off. But then when I saw you on the plane, I felt this little bit of hope again. Like you brought me alive just a tiny bit."

  "In the airplane bathroom, you mean?" I can't help but ask sarcastically.

  "No. Well, yes, that, too. But it was something in your eyes the first time I saw you sitting in your first class seat. It was life. You've been working so hard to dim it lately, but you have a spark, Alexa."

  "No..."

  "Yes," he says, grasping my hands. "Promise me you'll never do anything like this again. Please, for me."

  "I promise," I whisper.

  "Are you going to go to London?" he asks again. I shake my head no. "I know I've pushed you away."

  "And I've pushed you away," I acknowledge.

  "Would it be fair to say we're both pretty—"

  "—Fucked-up?" we say at the same time. "I think it would be fair to say that," I say with a laugh.

  "I'm not healed, you know," he says, his forehead creasing with worry. "From what happened over there. I mean my leg is better, but—"

  "Carter. Do you think I'm 'healed'? You just found me at the bottom of a pool."

  He laughs. "That's true."

  "You saved my life tonight didn't you?"

  "Maybe, but I think you saved mine. Back on the plane."

  "So we're even. Completely fucked-up, but even."

  He pauses. "Can I ask you something? What did your father say to you that day? You never told me, and you were doing so well before then. I mean, I assume he said he wouldn't give you the money for tuition..."

  "Yeah, he said that, and some other things," I reply quietly. "He said he couldn't 'invest' in me because I'm too fragile and emotional, and that's why I'll always fuck everything up. He said I'm just like my mother."

  "Do you think you're like her?"

  "I don't know, really. I was only a baby when she died."

  "So you only have his word to go on."

  "I know, but some of what he said is true. I am emotional."

  "You're passionate."

  "And fragile."

  "You supported yourself for two years in Paris."

  I sigh. "It's just so hard to keep fighting against him, you know? I've been doing it since I was thirteen. It just felt easier to finally give in. To be this train wreck he always thought I was. He was the one who really pushed me to go out with William."

  "Are you going to keep going out with him?"

  I smile. "Can I tell you something awful? I don't think I even like him."

  Carter grins. "Thank god. Me neither."

  "He did say something funny to me. He told me that my dad is working out a deal for Burke shipping in Mexico, but then I couldn't find anything online about it. And when I said you were my security, he said that was probably a good idea. I kept meaning to tell you, but it kind of got away from me."

  Carter leans forward intently. "Did he tell you anything else?"

  "Not that I remember," I tell him regretfully.

  "I always thought this accident with Bree was odd," he muses. "She's not a clumsy person, but she landed in the hospital because she tripped while she was jogging. She still can't remember it."

  "You know there are cameras in the electricity poles all around the neighborhood. Maybe they captured it."

  "I know, but there's always someone else in the security office and I can't get to them."

  I chew my lip. "Well, if you think it's important, maybe there's a way to draw them out."

  "A diversionary tactic," Carter smiles.

  "I can be quite diverting," I reply.

  "Oh, I'm well aware of that," he laughs, letting his hand rest on my bare thigh. Suddenly I'm very aware of my near-nakedness and the way his damp shirt is clinging to his chest.

  "Maybe we should wait," I whisper.

  He pulls his hand back. "You're probably right."

  I look up into his green eyes. "I'm not going to see William anymore. But I've had this habit of jumping from man to man, so I think I should just take some time to be by myself. But when I'm ready to not be by myself, there's only one person I want to be with," I promise him.

  "And I'll be waiting."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Now that I'm not constantly tipsy around William, I can see what a bore he really is, but I smile politely as he tells me about the best meals he's ever had. It's a long list, and about halfway through, he places his hand on mine. I glance over his shoulder at Carter, who is seated at another table. He frowns at me, and I glare back.

  He's the one who thought it would be a good idea for me to see William again. At first I thought he was crazy, but William is the only person who seems to know anything about my father's secretive business deal and is willing to talk about it. If I could just steer the conversation there...

  "Didn't you say you'd had an excellent meal in Puerto Vallarta?" I ask brightly.

  "Did I? I don't think so," he replies.

  "Huh. I thought you said something about being in Mexico with my father..."

  "Oh, maybe I must have been talking about Francis. He's the one handling the banking details for the Mexican deal for your father. All that offshore stuff has been complicated, to say the least."

  "That's right. It was Francis."

  "I shouldn't have been telling you about it. And Francis really shouldn't have told me. We're supposed to keep it top secret."

  "My father tells me everything," I lie. "He's finally realized he's not going to live forever, and he's been letting me in on some aspects of the business to see if I might be the one to take over someday."

  "Really?" William asks. "When were you going to—"

  "He swore me to secrecy," I say, trying to keep all the lies straight. "And I think business is so boring. But I'm just trying to keep him happy!" William smiles, satiated. I know he likes to think of himself as the smart professional in our relatio
nship. "I'm glad the Mexican deal is going so well, though," I add.

  "It's certainly making him a fortune. Or another fortune, I should say. I don't think I'd have the stomach for it."

  "Right. It has been tough," I hazard.

  "How are you all dealing with it?" I freeze, and take a sip of my water to buy myself some time. I'm not sure what he's talking about, but I'll have to take a guess.

  "It's certainly been a lot of pressure," I say slowly.

  "A lot of pressure?" he laughs. "You take it a lot better than I would. I mean, your father's risking your life, your family's lives, for a deal with the devil. I have to admit I've been looking over my shoulder a bit lately. I'm even grateful for G.I. Joe's presence back there," he says, gesturing back to Carter.

  What the fuck? "A deal with the devil?" I repeat coolly, not betraying my inner alarm. "Don't you think that's putting it a bit extremely?"

  "Extremely? The last mayor of Tampico called for the cartels to have a temporary ceasefire for a holiday, and Arana Federation firebombed his office."

  My mouth goes dry. "True," I squeak out.

  "And those are the people your father has on his side. For my money, I think El Nuevo Muerto is worse. Going after your enemies' children is twisted."

  "But there is such a big upside..." I hazard. I mean, there must be.

  "Sure. Without paying El Nuevo Muerto a tariff on all of Burke Shipping's imports he's saving millions of dollars, but I wouldn't want to make an enemy of them."

  "But the Arana Federation is on his side," I say, trying to follow along. I almost understand what's going on, but something still hasn't quite clicked.

  "Sure, with his monetary support they've been able to secure the ports, but they're not providing protection up here. That's all on him. They couldn't care either way about Ray, or his family." He stares at me for a moment. "Sorry to be so blunt about it."

  "No, not at all," I say, the pieces finally shifting together in my brain. I've gotten all I needed. "Now it's my turn. I'm afraid I can't go to London with you. In fact, I think we should stop seeing each other altogether. I'm not just some pretty accessory that you get to bring out for fancy parties. I want more for myself than that. I deserve more."