Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  "I didn't ask him to do that," Carter replies, his jaw clenching. "And he's never let me forget it."

  "Bree, this beautiful house, space and time for you to write in—" she counters, turning to her daughter.

  "Mom, I know you've had tough times before, but you made it through then. We did it together, and we could do it again. Golden handcuffs are still handcuffs," Bree whispers.

  Anne rears back as though she's been slapped. Her face contorts with emotion, and she storms out of the room. I see Jack smiling proudly at Bree before he looks up at me.

  "So, Lex, what now?" he asks. I shift uncomfortably and turn to Carter.

  "What do you think?"

  "I think you already know what to do," he points out. I take a deep breath.

  "We should all go to him together. Maybe with Jack there, that'll be enough. But we have to do it tonight so that we catch him off balance," I decide.

  Chapter Thirty

  I stare out the back window of my bedroom onto the ocean. The water is only visible in spots next to fishing lights where the beams bounce off the flickering waves. Things are coming to a head, and I can't help but feel there won't be any turning back after tonight. There's a quiet knock at my door and I jump.

  "Come in," I call, pulling the throw blanket a little tighter around my shoulders. I smile as I see Carter enter. He walks slowly into the room and leans on the wall next to me, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

  "I don't know if this means much...but I'm proud of you."

  Tears spring to my eyes. "It means a lot, actually."

  "And maybe your father will back out of the deal," he adds. "I think Jack's opinion of him means a lot, and he won't want to seem diminished in his eyes."

  "Maybe," I consider. "God, how did this become my life? Remember when I was just worried about paying for school? It does seem especially cruel that he wouldn't give me money for tuition when I know now that he was putting my life in danger for millions of dollars," I add with a bitter laugh.

  "You'll go back to school," Carter says.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yup. You could start in the summer semester. Just a couple classes to dip your toe in, maybe get a part-time job to help pay for it."

  "That sounds nice. Getting out of class in the late afternoon, in the sweltering heat, and going home to make dinner. And you'd be there, I think."

  "I would already have dinner made, actually."

  I break out into a silly grin. "You would?"

  "Oh, absolutely. I'm pretty handy in the kitchen. And then after dinner, you could do your homework, while I watch some TV, and then we'll get into our bed—"

  "So we're already living together at this point?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  "Well, to save money on rent..." he replies, light dancing in his green eyes.

  "We're taking things slow, remember?" I murmur, leaning into him. I inhale his scent, and every nerve ending in my body lights up. He bends his head forward and softly brushes his lips against mine. My mouth opens and our tongues slip together as his arms wrap around my waist. My hands wrap behind his neck and my fingers dig through his hair. I break off with a giggle. "This is really poor timing."

  "You're right," he says, taking a deep, steadying breath. "You just have quite an effect on me. It's not that I'm trying to speed things up—"

  "No, I know. I find it difficult, too, but I think it'll be worth it. For both of us. But maybe you could come back later tonight, and we could just...hang out? Like normal people?"

  "Normal people, you say? Interesting...I'll think about it," he replies with a smile. He lets his arms fall back, but grasps my hand at the last second. "When do you want to talk to your father?"

  "As soon as he comes home," I reply. Carter nods, and walks slowly to the door.

  "It'll work out," he says, turning back.

  "I know," I reply, more confidently than I feel. As the door shuts behind him, I look back out to the water one last time, then cross to my bureau. I'm wearing only shorts and a t-shirt, and I want something a little more serious on when I confront my father. I'm just pulling on a pair of slacks when there's another knock at the door.

  "You forget something?" I ask as it opens.

  "Sorry, ma'am," Roger says from the doorway.

  "Oh, I thought you were someone else. Wait, what are you sorry for?" I ask with a frown. There are footsteps behind him on the stairwell and he moves aside as two men hurry into my bedroom. "What the hell?" I exclaim as one heads into my closet and begins shoving clothes into a bag.

  "Mr. Stratton has asked us to move you out," Roger informs me. "Immediately."

  "What are you talking about?" I ask, as a sinking feeling fills my stomach.

  "He said to tell you that Carter is waiting to escort you to a new location."

  "OK..." I grumble. I suppose if Carter is involved than it's fine, but it's so sudden. Could there have been a new threat against the family from El Nuevo Muerto, and now we have to find a safe place? "Do you know—"

  "I can't tell you anything else," Roger says stiffly, then pauses. "Just doing my job."

  "I might not be so worried if it didn't sound like you're already trying to placate your conscience," I reply, studying his face. He winces slightly, but doesn't say anything else. I take a deep breath. The other two men have finished rummaging through my closet and bureau. One even went into my bathroom, presumably for my toiletries. They stand next to Roger with two full duffels and my purse and give him a nod.

  "Your father's waiting outside," he explains. I look around my room and take a deep breath.

  "Seems I have no choice," I say with a grim smile, and follow Roger down the steps. At the door of the boat house, I'm surprised to see him turn left and take the steps down to the dock. I look around him and see one of the security boats pulled up across from the yacht. As I step onboard, my father emerges from the helm. The security men board with me, and my father nods at Roger, who unmoors the boat.

  My father and I stare at each other. In the darkness, it's hard to see his eyes, but I'm sure they're emotionless anyway. I have to raise my voice to be heard above the speedboat's engine.

  "Anne told you," I say flatly.

  "Correct," he replies.

  "And Carter isn’t here."

  "Also correct. You're improving."

  "So where are you taking me?" I ask, sitting down on the side of the boat. Spray kicks up just behind me as we fly over the waves.

  "We're dropping you off at a marina downtown. From there, you can do what you want."

  "You're leaving me in the middle of the city with no security protection when you know my life is in danger, because you put it in danger," I summarize.

  "That's not how I'd put it. I'd say that you are trying to drive a wedge between myself and my fiancée, and I'm no longer willing to financially support you by allowing you to stay in my house."

  "Potato, potahto, right? And what will you tell everyone? Wait, let me guess: I got mad at you for being too overprotective and moved out in a huff."

  "Very good!"

  "They're going to think it's quite a coincidence, especially since we had all planned to talk to you together tonight. Anne didn't know about that."

  I can just see him frown, but it disappears quickly. "Maybe you intercepted me as I was being dropped off and we had words. I'll think of something." He studies me for a moment. "You do seem remarkably calm, especially for you."

  I sigh, and stare out at the waves. "I guess I'm just exhausted. I warned Jack and Bree about the danger, and as for myself, I'll manage. I'm stronger than you think."

  "I doubt it, but I'm glad you're feeling confident," he replies coolly. The marina lights shine brighter as we near it, and we weave in and out of the few boats out at night.

  "Why'd you give me security at all?" I ask. "Why not just leave me high and dry from the moment I came home? Then El Nuevo Muerto couldv'e killed me and the debt wouldv'e been paid."

  "Come on, Alexa. T
hink of how strange that would have looked to the rest of the family, if they'd been provided security and you hadn't. But that's why I only gave you one guard, and a gimp with PTSD at that."

  My anger flares for the first time at his derisive description of Carter. Frankly, I'd like to fling myself across the boat and strangle him, but I know I don't really have a chance.

  "I think you may have underestimated him," is all I say, and then turn back to look at the waves. We pull up to a slip and one of the security men quickly tosses my duffels onto the planks and hands me my purse. I don't have to look inside to know my cell phone's not there.

  I step out of the boat and turn back, considering my father. "You know, I've been wondering why you care so much about what Anne thinks of you. You never seemed to care about anyone else's opinion. And I decided that it's because you think having someone like her love you will redeem you somehow. But you can only hide your true self from her for so long."

  He's silent for a moment. "Good luck, Alexa," he finally says. The boat begins to pull away. "You're going to need it!"

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I quickly take stock of the marina. It's mostly empty, but at least I don't see any boats coming from the same direction as the house. Maybe the cartel has no idea that I've been jettisoned.

  I heave the two duffels over my shoulders and head up the ramp toward the main building. I try the door, but it's locked. And no payphones around, either. Not that I know anyone's number by heart anymore, thanks to cell phones. I could try to call the house, but if I know my father, there's no way I'll be able to get through to anyone.

  There's a crashing noise behind me and I jump. I spin around, my heartbeat skyrocketing, and a possum runs out from a recycling bin. I take a deep breath. I might have felt confident on the boat, but now that I'm all alone, I'm feeling much more vulnerable.

  Carter won't believe that I just left, right? He'll come after me...eventually. But until then, I need to depend on myself.

  Come on Alexa. Use your head. I need to get out of the open and into someplace more secure. I turn around and begin to walk quickly toward the main road. I still have a credit card tied to my own account, though it's nearly maxed out from my tuition payments, and if I remember correctly, has about thirty-one dollars left in it. I know where Nikki lives, but she's partying somewhere in South America. There's Jack's penthouse, but he bought it while I was in Europe, so I'll be damned if I can remember the address.

  I reach the road, and wave my arm at an open taxi. It slows and the driver hops out and puts my duffels in the trunk. I slide in the back seat, wondering where the hell I'm going.

  "Which terminal are you going to?" the cabbie asks as he pulls out.

  "Sorry?"

  "The bags...I assume you're going to the airport?"

  The airport...well lit, lots of security, open twenty-four hours a day...perfect! "Um, Air France," I lie.

  "You got it," he says.

  I relax slightly as I lean back against the torn leather backseat. The airport is just a temporary fix, but at least it will get me through the night. I can't help turning around and checking the cars behind us, though I can't manage to make out their license plates in the dark.

  Assuming that Jack, Bree, and Carter don't believe my father when he tells them I just ran off, how will they try to track me? How would I try to track someone? Call them, think about the normal places they'd go...neither of which would be helpful right now. Maybe I'm not thinking like Carter enough. He'd do something more high tech...like track my credit card.

  When we reach the terminal, I pay the cab driver, leaving him with a lousy one dollar tip, though it's all the cash I have. I take my bags and head straight for the nearest ATM. The least I can take out is twenty dollars, so that's what I do. I'm just trying to leave a bread crumb.

  I tuck my wallet back into my purse and look around. The stores are closed, but the lights are still bright in here, and I can see two security guards walking around just from here. I wish there was something that I could say to them that wouldn't make me sound crazy. Hi, I need your help because I'm a fully grown woman whose father just kicked her out of his house...and I'm in danger of being killed by a deadly Mexican cartel! I walk over and dump my duffels on the ground, and then curl up in a chair. At least I don't think I'm in any danger here, so I might as well try to get a few hours of sleep.

  I wake up to the sound of the metal security door of the coffee shop next to me being raised. I look out the large windows on the sides of the terminal, and see that pink light is just beginning to show above the horizon. I look around furtively, but everyone seems to be going about their normal business. I stretch out my stiff, cramped limbs, and then wearily stand. I take my purse and go over to the ATM and again withdraw another twenty dollars, another time-stamped bread crumb.

  I sit back down and wait for the coffee shop to fully open up, then get a muffin and a bottle of water and wonder what my next move should be. Maybe I should head back to the house. I know I won't make it past the security at the front gate – I'm sure they have specific instructions not to let me in – but they can't stop me from waiting outside the gates until Bree or Carter comes out.

  Once I'm in contact with Carter again, I'll be safe, and then it's just a matter of securing some housing. Maybe I could even stay at Jack's for a while. Then I'll get a job, and start a new life for myself. Screw my father. I can manage on my own.

  "Miss, do you have a ticket to fly today?" one of the security guards asks with a frown. "You're not allowed to just sleep here."

  "I've had a change of plans, actually, but thanks for your hospitality," I reply with a tired smile.

  "This isn't a hotel!" he calls after me as I lug my duffels toward the exit. There's a town car waiting just in front of the doors, but I glance around for a marked taxi. Carter's voice is in my head telling me to be cautious. Plus, these town cars are so expensive, and I don't have very much money. There aren't any other cars around, though, probably because of the early hour. I glance at the car, and see it has a limo license displayed in the window and a meter on the dashboard. The driver pops his head out and gives me an innocuous smile.

  "You need a ride, ma'am?" he asks, with a yawn and bleary-looking eyes.

  "Yeah, thanks," I reply. He takes my bags and I hop in the back seat as he puts them in the trunk. He slides behind the steering wheel and looks in the rearview.

  "Where to?"

  I look at his eyes in the rearview mirror. "I just got the funniest feeling of deja-vu. Have we met?"

  "Don't think so!" he replies cheerily as he turns onto the highway. "But I get that a lot. I just have one of those faces!"

  "Did you try to pick me up at the airport before?"

  "Hmm, don't think so!"

  I smile and nod, then turn my attention out the window. I have seen him before, though, I'm almost sure of it. When I came in on my Air France flight, there was a man with a limo who offered me a ride and called me by name. Without the context of the airport and the car, I wouldn't have recognized him, but now I'm positive. If he knew my name then, why is he pretending he doesn't know now?

  But there was another time, too...at the club, on the dance floor. I remember because he was coming over to me just before Carter started insisting that we leave.

  Something tickles at the back of my brain. Just one of those faces...when did I use that phrase recently myself? A cold feeling settles over me as I realize: it was when Carter and I were watching the tape. I said it about the man in the video. Without changing my expression, I go over the man's face in my mind: bland, balding, a little pudgy.

  A face that's easy to forget...which is why I've forgotten it so many times.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Fuck. Here I was acting so tough, and I haven't even managed to stay safe for twenty-four hours. I glance up at the man's eyes in the rearview. His feigned tiredness is gone, and his countenance has taken on a watchful, hawk-like expression of focus. His eyes
flick up to mine, and his face breaks into a sweet smile, completely obliterating what was there before. I smile back, and then turn back to the window.

  My mind is racing, and my heartbeat pounds loudly in my eardrums. He probably wants to keep me calm until we get to some private location, where he'll do whatever he has planned. Torture? Ransom? Or immediate death? I force myself to stay in the moment, otherwise I'll freeze up.

  I spot some other cars on the road, but there's no way to signal them without alerting him that I know what's going on, and then what if he just shoots me immediately? I have to play the game and pretend I don't know.

  I glance down at my purse, and casually pull out my lip gloss as I rummage around in it. Wallet, bobby pins, makeup compact, some old receipts and papers, and a lighter. A lighter. That's some kind of weapon, right? I stare down at it. There must be something I can do with it. I glance back at the papers. Sticking out is my original Air France ticket. As quietly as possible, I pull it out, along with the old receipts and a flyer about the University of South Florida's extracurricular activities. I roll them up slowly, keeping my expression bored.

  Now for the hard part. I wrinkle my nose, and then lean my head back and let out a giant sneeze. Just at the end of it, I flick on the lighter.

  "Ugh, my allergies are terrible!" I exclaim.

  "Mm," the man mutters. I glance out the opposite windows at the passing landscape. We're still on the highway. I'd like to wait until we're closer to buildings and people, but what if that's not the plan? What if he's going to pull over in the next minute and kill me in the middle of the woods? Better to take a chance when I still have one, and maybe get the attention of a passing motorist.

  The lighter is starting to burn my fingers, so I press it forward and light the paper on fire. As it catches, I lean down like I'm scratching my leg, and let it fall to the ground on the opposite seat. I watch the smile pile of papers, praying it doesn't go out. Luckily, the coating on some of the papers must be pretty nasty, because soon an acrid smoke begins to fill the backseat.