She mumbles, “Fucking perfect.”
“Perry. What the hell are you doing here?” My jaw aches with the power it takes not to say something I can’t take back, ya know, something like, Hey, you fucking pussy, let me intro you to my right hook.
Blake and Jonah’s eyes widen, and Honor jumps at my side, proving the happy-go-lucky tone I tried to muster up failed miserably.
Lucky for me, Perry doesn’t seem to notice. “Caleb The Destroyer Dean, what the fuck.” He puts his hand out to shake, a genuine smile on his freckled face.
He doesn’t look all that different than he did the last summer I saw him. Sure, he’s a little bit taller, no braces, but his red hair, pale skin, and overconfident grin are the same.
I hook my arm over Honor and pull her in so close she turns to the side so her front is glued to my hip and rib cage. “What brings you by?”
“Hey, Honor.” Perry finally drops his hand. “It’s been a long time.”
I know I’m being a dick, but there’s no doubt in my mind he used Honor for sex. She was so sweet, innocent, wanted so badly to be accepted, and he took that and ran with it. Fuck him for that.
“Hey, Perry.”
I slide my hand from her lower back up and into her hair, cupping her nape in a possessive hold that I hope makes her feel safe. Claimed. Protected.
Judging by the way she melts deeper into my side, I’d say it works.
“What did we miss?” I ask Perry.
He shifts on his feet, looking to Roy, who I realize is watching Honor a little too closely.
Blake leans back in his chair, propping the thing on its back two legs. “The boys here stopped by to see if they could pick up some tickets. Guess Roy Boy called Cam, who said you got the tickets in the mail a few days ago.”
“I did.” I eye Roy and Perry. They want tickets. They’ll have to ask me real nicely, not that it’ll make a difference. I’m not giving them shit.
Jonah reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope. “I think I got ’em here.” He flips the thing around in his hands, and Perry’s eyes light up.
Roy blinks away from Honor and looks up at Jonah, who’s leaning against the railing. “There should be four in there for us.”
“Four, huh?” Jonah shakes the envelope and rips off one end. “Let me see.”
He slides out a small stack of tickets secured by a rubber band. He runs the pad of his thumb along one end, fanning out what must be about a dozen tickets then sucks air through his teeth. “I dunno, man. Not sure we have enough.”
“Fuck off,” Roy says, laughing, but Jonah, Blake, and I just stare at him. He holds out a hand. “You got plenty. I just need four.”
Jonah rips off the band and takes four off the top of the stack, studying them. “Fuck me, these are some good seats.” He flashes the tickets to Blake, who nods.
“Cage-side.” Blake has zero hint of his usual teasing tone. “Dudes would blow a goat for those seats.”
Perry’s grinning so big it looks like his face will split in two.
Honor giggles, and the sound washes some of the tension from my muscles.
Blake winks at Honor then hands the tickets to her. “You mentioned you wanted these, right?”
She takes the tickets. “Um . . . no.”
“Sure, ya did.” Blake nods to the tickets in her hand that have a face value of seven-hundred-twenty dollars.
Roy looks like he’s about to pop a vein and Perry might cry. This is the first time I’ve smiled since lunch.
“Sorry, boys.” Jonah’s voice is deep and menacing. “Wish we could help, but it looks like we’re all out.”
Roy’s face gets redder. “What about all the tickets in your hand?”
“These aren’t available.”
“Says who?” Perry’s starting to sweat, and even though it’s pathetic, I have no sympathy for him.
Jonah, Blake, and I share a look. These guys have balls coming in here demanding shit from us.
Blake snags the tickets from Jonah, and there must be around eight to ten left. He heads inside. “Ran out of toilet paper this morning. These’ll do.”
I bury my grin in Honor’s hair, and Jonah smiles at his shoes while Perry and Roy watch after Blake as he heads inside and up the stairs.
“What the fuck is that guy’s problem?” Leave it to Roy not to know when to shut the fuck up.
“He doesn’t have a problem, but you keep talking, I can guarantee you will.” I hold Honor tighter.
Jonah pushes up from the railing to his full height. “If you boys need help finding the front door, I’d be happy to show it to you.”
They look at each other like they can’t believe anyone would talk to them like that, like they can’t fucking fathom the thought of people not falling all over themselves to earn their attention.
Roy turns slowly to me, his gaze going from my hold on my girl to her face. “Honor, I hope you’re done here for the night because I’ve got shit I need you to do.”
Her body shifts, a half attempt to pull away from me that she quickly gives up on. “I haven’t made dinner yet, so—”
“They’re big boys.” He eyes Jonah and me. “Surely, they can fend for themselves.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I, uh . . . I already marinated the meat. If you tell me what needs to be done, I’ll do it tomorrow before breakfast.”
“No.” His jaw flexes, and Perry gets a sick smile of satisfaction that I want to slap right off his face. “You’ll do it now.”
“Not tonight, Roy.” I know. I could’ve stayed quiet, let Honor fight her own battle, but there’s one thing I’ve noticed about Honor Cartwright. She’ll fight for those she cares about, but she has a hard time fighting for herself.
I expect Roy to mouth off, to throw around the fact that Honor is his employee, but he doesn’t.
He just smiles.
That’s it.
“Fair enough.” Roy peers down at Honor. “Tomorrow then.”
Both he and Perry turn and stomp through the house to the front door. Once they’re out of sight, I release Honor with a kiss to her forehead.
“That was awesome.” She stares at the four tickets in her hand. “I actually felt a little bad for them.”
“Well, don’t.” Of course, my sweet Honor would think those weasels are the victims here.
“I’m with Caleb.” Jonah’s back to leaning against the railing. “You know when those guys showed up they didn’t even knock? Just walked right in.”
“No way.”
Jonah nods to Honor. “Yep. Blake and I heard ’em come in. We asked if they had the wrong fuckin’ house. The tall one explained he owns it. That fucker has brass balls, man. I thought Blake was going to kill him on the spot.”
“You should’ve locked the doors.” I grab a seat and pull Honor down to my lap.
“They were locked.” Jonah growls. “That’s what I’m telling you. That little shit has a death wish.”
“Hold on.” Honor shifts on my lap to face Jonah head on. “Roy used his key and came right in? He can’t do that!”
“He can’t, but he did.”
“That why you withheld all those tickets?” I’m still smiling inside at how devastated both Roy and Perry looked when Blake walked out suggesting he’d use those tickets to wipe his ass.
Jonah nods. “That and I didn’t like the way they were eyein’ your woman.”
Honor blushes.
“There’s some history there.” I don’t tell Jonah about Honor and Perry, but I’d say, by the annoyance that flashes in his eyes, he gets me.
“Great thing about history is it’s in the past. Gone. Behind you.”
Yeah, it is—until it gets thrown in your face by some thoughtless reporter in front of dozens of strangers.
Honor handled it like a champ. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something.
Twelve
Honor
The rest of the day was bus
y with dinner prep. Caleb helped me in the kitchen until he had to go upstairs for a series of telephone interviews. The sun had set and I was just getting the food on the table when he comes stomping down the steps.
“Smells amazing.” He pulls me in for a quick hug while I wipe teriyaki sauce from my hands. “What’s in it?”
Just days away from his fight, he’s been more of a stickler about his diet. He won’t touch anything sweet, fried, or white. “Chicken, brown rice, extra vegetables.”
“Perfect.” He releases me with a squeeze to my backside that makes me squeak. “I’ll round up the boys.”
I pull out some serving spoons, the last thing I need to do since Jonah and Blake set the table for me earlier. “How were your interviews?”
An unnamed emotion flickers in his eyes, but he quickly looks away before I can figure it out. “Pretty good.”
What was that all about?
Maybe his opponent is talking smack again.
Or maybe it’s me?
I hate that my name and my family’s mistakes would take the focus from Caleb’s fight.
Jonah and Blake come down the stairs with eager eyes and growling stomachs. I’ve always loved cooking, and I’ve loved cooking for the people I’ve cared about over the years, but there’s no satisfaction greater than cooking for men who are always hungry and love to eat.
We’re sitting at the table, keeping the conversation light and purposefully avoiding all topics that lead us to talking about fighting, including Roy and Perry.
“Another fucking masterpiece.” Blake puts down his fork after finishing his third plate of food. “I’m looking forward to getting home, but I’m gonna miss your cooking, woman.”
Jonah raises his hand. “I second that.”
My entire body warms with their compliments. “I’ll miss cooking for you guys.”
Caleb grabs my hand under the table, and I hold on tight. Who knows what will happen between us once his fight is over? Will he go back to Vegas and forget about me? Any time he spends away he could meet someone else and then what?
We’ve been hanging out a little over two weeks, and already the thought of living without him, not having him right across the street, makes my chest ache.
I begin to clear the plates, only to have all of them stop me. “Okay, okay!” I hold my hands up in surrender, laughing. “I’ll be on the couch.”
Caleb kisses the tip of my nose, his hands full of plates. “Go relax.”
“Oh, actually, I’m going to run home really quick and feed the cats.”
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll walk over with you.”
“No, it’s fine. You guys clean up, and I’ll be back by the time you’re done.”
He leans in close. “Those pricks from today might be out there.”
“We have security who’re now packing heat. I think I’ll be okay.”
His lips twitch. “BB guns ain’t heat, babe.”
I push up and kiss his full, perfect lips, a days’ worth of stubble rasping against my mouth. “I’ll be in my pj’s and back before you know it.”
That does it. Something about me wearing old worn-out pajama pants and T-shirts does to Caleb what lingerie does to most men. “Fine. But make it quick.”
“I will.” I scurry through the kitchen to the front door as Blake and Jonah fight over who gets the last bite of chicken.
A big hulking man is sitting in the black Yukon that I’ve come to realize must be the Corps Security corporate car. It’s dark, so it’s hard to tell, but this guy seems bigger than Nate and Cohen. I wave as I pass by the driver’s side window, and he nods and flashes two fingers. I don’t have to turn around and look. I can feel his eyes on me as he makes sure I get home without being harassed.
It’s quiet outside, more so than I expected, most likely because security measures have been amplified; though I don’t know how.
They were pretty intense as is.
I jog up the steps to my door and head inside the dark living room to the kitchen. I flick the lights on, and sure enough, all my cats come padding in.
“Hey, guys. You hungry?” I fill the bowls with food and water and grab a glass of water for myself before heading to my room to get changed. As much as I love how I felt today wearing this dress and my boots, my bra is cutting into my ribcage, and my feet are aching.
I flip on the light, gasp, and stagger backwards. Oh my God.
Dresser drawers are pulled out and emptied, their contents all over the room. My mattress is ripped from the frame and on its side. Pictures are ripped from the walls, all the tabletops cleared, and shattered knick-knacks litter the floor.
My pulse screams in my ears. I stumble into the hallway and notice my granddad’s bedroom door is closed. I always leave it open.
My hands shake as I grip the doorknob. I turn and push only to have it get stuck on something. I can’t see in the dark, but there’s a feeling that comes from the room, a sense that it’s just as trashed as my own. I flip on the light, and my eyes confirm what I already know. Destroyed.
“Who would do this?” My lips quiver, and my eyes heat with tears.
I need to get out of here.
I whirl around and slam face first into a solid body.
A scream shoots from my lips, and two arms wrap around me.
“No! Let me go!” I kick hard at whatever I can make contact with, grateful I’m still wearing my boots.
“Ow! Chill out, Bug. What the fuck!”
“Perry?”
I stop squirming and he releases me.
“What are you doing here? Did you do this?”
He holds his hands up. “Do what? I just came over to see if I could score one of those tickets from you.”
I squint at his face in the dark hallway, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s lying. “How did you know I was home?”
“I was on my way home and saw you run across the street. Jesus, Bug, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My skin crawls at the nickname. “My room . . .” I put my hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath. “Someone was here.”
He squints then steps to my bedroom door, peering inside. “Fuck. Did they take anything?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell when it looks like that.” I grip the back of Perry’s shirt. “Come on. I don’t know if they’re still here. We should leave.”
“No, you need to call the cops.” He pulls out his cell phone, and I imagine the kind of attention the Hope Town PD cars will bring, lights blazing, announcing to the media there’s a story, which will only bring more negative attention to me, and worse, Caleb.
“Wait. I . . . I need to think.” My head gets light most likely from all the blood that has left my brain to fuel my fight or flight response. “I need to . . .” I need to talk to the security guy. Surely, he saw something.
I run to the door, down the steps, across the street, and toward the Yukon. The man sees me coming and meets me at the end of Caleb’s driveway.
“Hey, you okay?” His dark eyes do a quick assessment.
“Someone broke into my house!”
His gaze darts over to my place where Perry is just coming down the steps. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Perry. He just showed up; it couldn’t have been him.”
Perry jogs toward us and sticks his hand out to the man. “Perry Olsen, I’m a friend of Honor’s.”
The security guy looks at Perry suspiciously. “John Beckett.”
“It’s bad in there.” Perry throws a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to my house. “I think we should call the cops.”
The big man looks right at me. “Go inside with Caleb while I check it out.”
“Okay, thank you, Mr. Beckett.”
He nods, and it’s all business, but the softening of his expression makes me feel safe. “Call me Beck.”
“Thanks, Beck, I’ll get her inside,” Perry says.
Beck frowns. “It’s Mr. Beckett to you,” he mumbles then
jogs over to my place.
“Perry, you should go.” After what happened earlier, I can’t imagine Caleb would be happy about me walking up with Perry.
“I want to make sure you get in okay.”
“I’m fine. I swear.”
He looks around. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I speed walk to the house and have to ring the doorbell because the door is locked. I turn to see Perry watching from the driveway. The door lock clicks and Caleb answers, smiling.
His grin falls once he takes a good hard look at my face. “Honor, what the fuck is going on?”
I turn toward my house and Perry is gone. Probably for the best. Caleb steps out beside me, looking down the driveway as if whatever upset me is there waiting. “What is it?”
“Someone was in my house.”
His expression grows hard, his jaw rock solid. “How do you know that?”
“They trashed it, Caleb! Everything in the bedrooms is trashed!”
Blake and Jonah come up behind Caleb, their faces murderous.
“Come on.” He starts walking toward my place. Jonah and Blake follow close behind.
I’m trying to keep up with their long strides as they stomp down the driveway like a small but powerful army. Their shoulders seem to swell with every step, and their hands are fisted tightly.
They hit the porch like a force of hell. “I’m gonna peek around the back,” Jonah says while taking a sharp right into the trees.
Blake takes the other direction, and I’m stunned at how silently they move for men of their size. Caleb grips my hand and walks me inside where Beck is pacing the kitchen with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Tossed. Both rooms.” He lifts his chin toward Caleb and me. “I’m telling you, Greg, I didn’t see shit! I’ve had eyes on both houses all night. Whoever did this was on foot. Backdoor.” He looks at me again. “Yep, unlocked.”
Shit, shit, shit!
Caleb’s head turns slowly toward me. “Honor.”
He doesn’t have to say it; I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I . . .” I have no excuse. “God!” I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I’m so stupid.”
“Greg.” Beck shakes his head. “Calm down. I know—” He groans and drops his head back on his shoulders. “I agree! Get fucking Izzy and Dee down here to discuss the dangers of unlocked doors then, but stop preaching to the choir, motherfucker.”
Corps Security in Hope Town: Fighting for Honor (Kindle Worlds) Page 13
