by Sheila Kell
“Are you pouting, oh brother of mine?”
“No,” Matt grumbled.
“Sure.” He chuckled. “It was a conversation in passing. The outcome was that I need to protect Madison from the two thugs.”
“You, huh? Not HIS?
Brad sighed. “No. Not HIS. Besides, they’re busy.”
“Humph. I think you’ve got a crush.”
“Fuck you.” He disconnected the call, knowing his brother was right once again.
IT’D BEEN A long time since Brad had cared about how he dressed. He turned in the mirror to check his back before facing front again. The black button-down shirt and clean jeans were pressed and fit well—snug but not tight. He wanted Madison to see what he had to offer—in case she’d forgotten—but he didn’t need to offend her sister at dinner with too tight pants that showed his every detail. His dark hair wasn’t cooperating, and he ended up overapplying product, then had to rinse it out and reapply it with a lighter hand. He never realized he had a small cowlick on the side of his head. A haircut was in order, and he wished he’d have done that earlier in the day.
Feeling ready to tackle his wayward emotions while around Madison, he went into the living room, silently hoping she had returned. Devon had invited him to dinner and told him that Madison would be there, but he hadn’t asked if she’d come to his home first or just wait it out at Devon and Rylee’s. Seeing that her suitcase was still in the guest room, he smiled, happy the hurdle of her staying with him had been won.
After a quick call to Devon to ensure Madison had remained in place, he took a deep breath, exited his home and climbed into his truck for the short drive to his brother’s house. With the exception of Jesse, who lived well outside the city so he could have enough land for HIS, the brothers who lived in Baltimore were within about fifteen minutes of each other—traffic notwithstanding.
Parking at Devon’s house, he noticed Madison’s BMW and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t taken off to avoid him. He worried—with her missing from his side—that she could be in trouble even though he’d known she’d been at Rylee’s—courtesy of Devon, not her.
While waiting for someone to answer the door, he had the sudden urge to have flowers or something to give Rylee. He glanced around her yard to see if she had anything in bloom and was disappointed there wasn’t anything he could pick to make a bouquet. Didn’t dinner guests do shit like that? He’d never done that in the past, so that errant thought threw him for a loop. Since everyone took pity on the single guys in the family, he’d eaten dinner at all of his brothers’ houses—until recently with Matt as his wingman—but had never felt this off-kilter, like it was something more than just a delicious meal and enjoyable conversation.
Was he thinking of impressing Madison? That had to be it, and thoughts like that had to stop. She liked him as he was or not at all. And based on that kiss in the hotel room, she liked him plenty—whether she admitted it or not.
Holding Mitch on her hip, Rylee opened the door and welcomed him. In dark slacks and a flowery blouse, she’d dressed nicer than one of their casual dinners without her sister. Yep, that itch to have brought flowers hit him again. Fuck. This night was not starting off right.
For some unknown reason, every fiber in his being wanted to bolt away, but then he heard Madison’s laughter from within the house, and his insides did something funny that he didn’t want to think about or admit—even to himself.
“I owe you flowers,” he said, before kissing Rylee’s cheek and the top of Mitch’s baby-soft head. Without waiting for her, he strode through the house, passing the living room with a blanket and baby toys strewn about and entering the dining room where it appeared they’d been waiting on him. He glanced at his watch. Fuck. He was late. He’d spent too much goddamn time in front of the mirror like a teenager getting ready for a hot date and a chance for a piece of ass. Not that he wouldn’t argue with the last part of that thought.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he offered to Devon and Madison.
“It’s fine,” his brother replied. “I was just listening to the plans for changing the club into a boutique. Did you know it’s going to be lingerie?”
Stunned, his gaze swung to Madison’s bright shining one. “No. I didn’t know.” Now, all through dinner, he was going to imagine her in lingerie. Fucking great. He’d have wood all night.
Brad plopped down next to Madison and disappointment drove through him. She’d changed clothes and hadn’t come back to his house, which meant she had more clothes in her car. That also meant because she left a suitcase at his house, it didn’t mean she was coming home with him like he and Devon had discussed. Worry for her and how she wasn’t taking the possible threat seriously settled in his gut.
While Rylee strapped in Mitch, Devon brought out a casserole dish, and Brad caught the whiff of Italian food.
Uh-oh.
Madison leaned into him and whispered while she settled a napkin on her lap. “I didn’t tell her you had lasagna last night. She worked hard on that—even making the noodles herself—so don’t spoil it.”
His eyes twinkled as they captured her gaze. “Deal. Does that make us co-conspirators?” He smiled broadly with warmth.
Her lips twitched up at the corners. “Sure.”
He’d been ready to ask her to shake on it when dinner was served. “Is that lasagna?” he asked eagerly, as Devon set down the pan in the center of their seating arrangement.
“I know it’s your favorite,” Rylee said with a smile.
His favorite was barbecue beef ribs. But once he’d overcomplimented Megan’s lasagna—it’d been worth the praise—and AJ’s wife must’ve told the other wives. Henceforth they’d all made sure to make him lasagna when they sent over a dish, worrying he wasn’t eating enough. Hell, he’d made it to thirty healthy and nourished without them. Yet, he never turned down a good meal or their efforts even though some were not that great. As one of Rylee’s guinea pigs, he’d eaten many of her new recipes and had seen her grow as a cook. However, some of her dishes were barely edible.
Brad flashed her a smile. “It is. I love it.” For effect, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation while his stomach clenched in worry at whether this would be one of her less than fine recipes.
Everyone served themselves, and Brad wondered about the tiny piece that Madison had cut for herself. Truly she couldn’t survive off that. Then, Rylee jumped up and returned with four salad bowls, yet Madison’s was larger than everyone else’s. Rabbit food. Hell. Not for the first time, he thought the woman could afford to put on a pound or two, but he’d be damned if he’d say that. He did know his limits, even though his mouth didn’t always listen.
The salad he’d been given went untouched as he devoured the unexpectedly delicious lasagna and garlic bread. He wasn’t kissing anyone later, who cared if he had garlic breath? The only woman he’d like to kiss again was Madison, and she was eating it also, so there you go. The thought of their lips locked sent a firestorm of need raging through him. A storm he worked hard to control, but being beside Madison, listening to her laugh and enjoy herself with her family made him appreciate her more and more.
“Rylee,” he said, “This is wonderful.”
His sister-in-law blushed. “Thanks. I worked hard on it.”
Remembering what Madison had told him, he commented, “These noodles are fantastic.” And they were. She’d outdone herself.
“I made them from scratch. Devon bought me a noodle press not too long ago, and I put it to use.”
“Well, whatever you did, it’s superb.”
“He’s right,” Madison added.
They quieted while digging in to Rylee’s creation until Devon cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about Casden and Rogers.”
Thank the fuck someone else had some sense in them. “Yeah,” he said.
“I think they’re fine,” Madison said stubbornly.
“Same here,” Rylee said, before popping a piece of garlic bread
into her mouth.
Frustrated, Brad said, “Did you forget how they tried to intimidate you at the hotel? You don’t understand, these are dangerous men.” He wanted to knock the sisters’ heads together. Did they not listen to the men who’d grown up here and knew what was happening?
“Devon thinks there’s enough of a threat, so I’ll carry, but I’m not going everywhere with a bodyguard when there’s been no verbal threat,” Rylee stated.
Brad pushed his empty plate forward. “They’re dangerous.”
“So are the men of HIS, but you don’t see me protecting myself against them,” Rylee quipped.
“Rylee, honey, you know these men are dangerous, but you’re right in they haven’t made any threats or come back to push the offer. Just be extra vigilant when you’re out and about, but I want to be with you when you take Mitch out. At least for the time being.”
What. The. Fuck? Brad wanted to scream. Sure the men hadn’t made a threat, but they were dangerous men who’d dared to talk with some of their women. He’d think on the latter part of that statement another time. “Dev, come on.”
Holding up his hand to forestall any argument, Devon said, “You know we’re being overprotective. There is no definite threat against them.”
What had changed his brother’s mind? He’d agreed with him before. Damn Rylee and Madison and their nagging at his brother. He’d bet every last penny on that being the reason.
Devon turned to Madison. “Are you comfortable protecting yourself?”
Madison nodded. “Yes. I’ve taken self-defense courses and carry Mace.”
That wasn’t nearly enough. She needed someone there to keep her safe. She was like a china doll who could be broken if touched. Although when he’d touched her, she’d come alive.
“Brad, I’ll still stay at your house if it’s all right, since Rylee and Devon don’t have room. But I won’t need you shadowing or following me.”
He had one win—she was staying—and one loss—she didn’t want him to protect her. Maybe Devon was right about the threat or lack thereof. He always reacted strongly when family was involved in danger, and Madison and Rylee were family now. They shouldn’t be rubbing elbows with the Casdens and Rogers of the world.
Ignoring Madison, he focused on Rylee. “Did you officially decline that offer?”
“Yeah. Today in fact.”
If trouble was coming down for them, it’d be soon. And he’d be there to protect Madison—no matter what she said.
“Staying at my house means when you’re out, you’re out with either Rylee or me.” He trusted Rylee with Madison’s life. Trusted her to protect them both if that happened to be the case. Rylee was tough and smart, and she loved her sister.
Madison shook her head. “Not necessary. You just heard—”
He cut her off. “Nonnegotiable.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she then turned to her brother-in-law. “Devon?” she asked.
Devon, who had been studying Brad intently, shook his head. “His house. His rules.”
Thank the fuck she didn’t start with the whole hotel thing again. He’d had to watch for that.
Rylee stood to clear the table. Everyone also stood and took their plates to the kitchen where Rylee directed them to be stacked.
Once they returned to the dining room, Rylee offered, “How about a game of Monopoly?”
Brad couldn’t remember the last time he’d played the game, and agreed along with the others. Rylee did warn them that Madison was a ruthless trader of property. He planned to give her a run for her money.
However, her skill and luck of the dice put Madison well in the lead early in the game, and no one could catch up to her before she bankrupted each and every one of them.
Throughout the game, they laughed over family stories and quibbled over the game, and she let her guard down around him. His chest ached for the woman with no barriers in place to separate them. He felt comfortable with that side of her even though she tied him up in knots.
He had to admit it. Madison Maxwell was special to him. More than any other woman he’d ever met. That only reinforced his desire to get to know the woman better and find out how far their relationship would go.
ON A BRIGHT, clear day, with Rylee—her approved bodyguard—riding shotgun, Madison drove to meet the contractor to discuss the build-out for La Belle. Happiness had infused her that the man came highly recommended, and he’d appeared as excited as she and Rylee were about the transformation discussed. The turnaround time was expected to be swift, which was unusual, and ripples of satisfaction ran through her at the prospect.
“Did you submit the application for the new business license? The retail trade one?” Madison asked. Rylee had been handling the initial transition plans while Madison had finished up a couple of modeling gigs. She’d trusted her sister, but with a baby at home, Rylee sometimes forgot to do things they’d discussed. Once Rylee left, it was up to her to do everything and know that Rylee trusted her. Thankfully she didn’t have the distraction of a little one. Just one big man that set her world afire, her mind added.
“Yes.” Rylee tapped the folder in her lap. “It’s all set. New name and all. We should have it soon.”
“You know,” she began hesitantly, “I do worry that we’ll fail.” Her stomach took a summersault. Her admission, while spoken softly, would never have been uttered to anyone but her sister. She could never admit that fear to anyone else. A fear that ate at her day and night whenever she thought of what they were doing.
After a moment, Rylee said quietly, “Me too.” Then she cleared her throat. “But I think our plan is sound, and we already know of plenty of customers we’ll have. I feel good about where we are. You should too.”
She put on her turn signal and slowed. “I do feel good. We’ve got primo real estate. In the back of my mind, I just worry.”
“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. We’re going to be fine.”
The two had put a large chunk of their savings into buying the building and turning it into a club for women. It had been a bar before they’d purchased it, so they’d just made the change and let it run on its own. They’d had two good managers over that time, so the club had been successful. But, neither she nor Rylee were happy with what they’d created. When the time had come for Madison to take her place at the business, she’d cringed at the thought of it. That’s when the idea of a boutique had come into play. She’d pitched it to Rylee, and they’d both readily agreed.
Please don’t let Rylee lose her investment because of my idea.
As they rounded a corner, the nightclub PYNK came into view, and Madison slammed on the brake, her body snapping against the seat belt, her mouth agape, and her heart plummeting into the pit of her stomach.
She swallowed against the large lump that had formed in her throat. Across the front of their red brick building, SLUTS OWN THIS PLACE was spray-painted in big, white poufy letters outlined in bright yellow. Her pulse raced. Worse, the front door appeared to be ajar. Good God, why would someone do this?
Putting the swirling emotions in her head in check, Madison drove to the parking lot where the two women sat for a moment in utter silence with tension radiating from both of them, taking in the ugly words in the graffiti and possible loss inside the club.
“I’m calling the police,” Rylee said in a cold, hard voice. It was one that Madison expected she used on the missions she talked about with HIS.
“Shouldn’t we check out the damage inside first?”
Madison’s sister vehemently shook her head. “No. We don’t know if someone’s in there. Under no circumstances will we check it out ourselves.”
Conceding that Rylee was right, Madison sat helplessly as her blood boiled more and more until steam should’ve been seeping out the top of her head. Someone vandalized their building. Kids? Pissed off men whose women were members? Casden and Rogers?
That last thought brought her up short. With the stories Brad had tried to t
errify her with, this sounded awfully juvenile for the big, bad men she should be afraid of. But then again, she’d never understood the criminal mind. It just wasn’t in her.
Within minutes, two patrol cars arrived, and the officers cleared the building, citing no one was inside. They called Madison and Rylee inside to survey the damage before they completed a police report on the vandalism.
The place was destroyed. If it couldn’t be broken—like the bar—then it was spray-painted. Devastation sat around Madison—wooden barstools broken, leather booths slashed and their stuffing removed, all the alcohol and liquor bottles behind the bar were broken, and the large mirror that ran the length of the oak bar was smashed, and crude words spray-painted on bolted down tables and the bar. Her stomach churned at the evilness of it all. She and Rylee had planned to sell all the equipment in the club as part of the startup for inventory for the boutique. Madison could easily cover the cost herself—and she would now—but the sale wouldn’t make up Rylee’s portion, which she insisted on contributing.
“Well,” Rylee said, coming up behind her as she stared at the shattered mirror behind the bar, “I guess it’s okay to close the club now instead of waiting until they can start on the transformation.”
Madison forced a smile. True. Although she hated that Rylee wouldn’t have the income during that extra time it took, she knew Rylee wasn’t hurting for money. Maybe she wasn’t loaded like Madison, but she would be fine. With Devon and HIS at Rylee’s back, Madison felt it in her bones, and she didn’t have that feeling very often.
“We can see if the contractor can start early.” She’d offer him a bonus on the side if she needed to. “He probably also knows someone who can help us clean this place up quickly.” She turned to her sister. “Unless you do.”
Rylee smiled and her face lit up. “I know a bunch of men who would help, but I don’t know if any of their talents include removing the paint on the brick wall outside.”
Without a doubt, Madison knew Rylee was talking about the men at HIS. What a family they appeared to be. She once again had a pang of jealousy for the life her sister had created. No. Envy. She envied her sister and how great her life had turned out.
