Fatal Deception

by April Hunt

  Jaz muttered, “Pretty sure we’ve seen at least one out of three.” Grace elbowed Jaz in the side, and the former Marine frowned at the brunette. “What? You’ve seen them. I’ve seen them. Hell, even the guys, who are oblivious to anything unless it’s dancing naked two inches from their face, have seen them.”

  Isa looked from friend to friend. “Seen what? What are you talking about?”

  Zoey fiddled with her drink while Grace appeared to weigh her words carefully.

  Isa turned to Jaz, knowing she’d get a straight answer. “Seen what?”

  “The fireworks.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Isa blinked innocently.

  Jaz scoffed. “I’m talking about the fireworks show that goes off whenever you and Roman are in the same room. The explosions rival the ones they light off the Brooklyn Bridge every New Year’s Eve.”

  Isa’s face heated.

  After what happened earlier that morning, she couldn’t deny that Roman Steele lit something inside her she’d never before experienced, and not having felt it before, she couldn’t attach a name to it. Lust was definitely involved, and so was a heady dose of desire. But there was something else she couldn’t pin down.

  Excitement maybe? Or danger?

  After Olly, Isa had sworn off men with hero complexes, so maybe that was the draw? Roman Steele epitomized everything she’d convinced herself she didn’t want in life.

  “Roman’s definitely…different. I’ll admit to that.” Knowing these three women were also his friends, Isa treaded carefully. “And there’s no doubt that he’s artfully skilled in the kissing department, but—”

  Zoey spit her drink halfway across the table, and Grace patted her back while the blond tried clearing her airway.

  Jaz’s grin widened. “I knew it.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Grace held up her hands as if capable of pausing the conversation. “Kissing? There was kissing?”

  “I told you, didn’t I?” Jaz leaned back in her chair, looking smug. “One of these days you guys will learn to listen to me.”

  Isa bounced her attention between each of their shocked reactions. “Oh, come on. You act like this is something new. Are you telling me that Roman’s never—”

  “Nope.”

  Grace shook her head. “Never.”

  “But he’s so…”

  “Grumpy? Broody?”

  “Virile.”

  Zoey’s mouth dropped slightly. “I think I need to sit down.”

  “You are sitting down.”

  “Oh. Good. Then I’m ahead of the ball game.”

  Isa uneasily tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You guys really know how to make a girl self-conscious.”

  Grace patted her hand, grinning ear to ear. “We don’t mean to, but you have to realize that Roman doesn’t bring women around us when there’s sparkage. He doesn’t bring women around period. Family events? Solo. Parties? Alone.”

  “He’s not bringing me around. He’s keeping me close because of what happened at the Legion.”

  Jaz was already shaking her head. “Where did you sleep last night?”

  Isa was almost afraid to answer. “Here. Well, downstairs.”

  “And where did Roman sleep?” She paused but didn’t let her answer. “He also slept here, which to you probably doesn’t sound like a big deal. Everyone in Steele Ops has their own quarters. But Roman’s never actually slept in his—until now.”

  “I don’t think you can—”

  Zoey nodded. “We can. Ro could be exhausted and due to come back to Iron Bars in two hours, and yet he’ll cross the river to his place rather than take a power nap here. I don’t know why, but it’s a thing.”

  When Roman admitted to not sleeping much earlier this morning, Isa wondered if that had been man code for he didn’t sleep at all. And then she wondered why he’d stayed. Supposedly Cade and Grace had been around, and Liam, too. She wouldn’t have been alone, and hello, fortified bunker. Definitely no one was getting inside.

  Isa’s adamant sparkage denial died on her lips as a fluttery warmth slid down her spine and wrapped around her stomach.

  On cue, Jaz, Zoey, and Grace all looked over her shoulder.

  Jaz smirked. “Guess we’ll be witnessing the sparkage ourselves.”

  Isa twisted in her seat just as Roman stepped onto the Iron Bar’s back patio, and like he possessed an internal homing beacon, his heated gaze landed directly on her.

  Even from yards away, her entire body lit up as if she were sitting too close to a bonfire, her heart racing into double time. No man before had ever taken her breath away, but Roman Steele stole it and held it hostage, her head going slightly dizzy the longer he stared.

  Leaning casually against the patio’s awning pillar, he never took his eyes away from hers. His dark T-shirt had been replaced by a white Henley, its sleeves pushed up to reveal tanned arms corded with muscle…muscle that had held her tight against his body and practically weeping for more.

  A heat wave hit Isabel full force, making her pick up her cocktail napkin and fan herself before forcefully ripping her gaze away from the other side of the patio. The second she did, her eyes already ached to slide back. And they would have if it weren’t for her new friends’ knowing smirks.

  “You’re right. Not a single spark,” Jaz said dryly, sliding her water toward Isa. “Here. You need this more than I do…to put out the fire on your pants.”

  Oh, Isa was tempted to use Jaz’s water, but not to douse the fire on her pants, but the one in them. It wasn’t lost on her that just talking about the broody Steele made her antsy, but seeing him in the literal flesh? Feeling those dark eyes, filled with an intensity she’d never before encountered, directly on her?

  She bypassed antsy and went straight to downright horny. If she wasn’t careful, she’d burst into flames and not from her lying pants, but years’ worth of pent-up sexual frustrations.

  Ignoring the mischievous twinkle in the girls’ eyes, Isa stood. “Didn’t someone mention a cornhole tournament?”

  * * *

  On getting Jaz’s text about bringing Isabel to Iron Bars, Roman had been furious. He’d cut short an interview with a potential new operator and hightailed it back from Quantico at breakneck speeds that definitely would’ve resulted in his license being taken away if he’d been stopped. Now that he saw Isabel for himself, an odd sense of relief went through him. And fuck if he knew what to do with that.

  Jaz knew her way around kicking asses and was more than capable of working a protective detail. Hell, she was probably better suited than him, since he’d already proven he couldn’t be close to Isabel and keep his hands—and mouth—off of her.

  He shouldn’t be near her. He couldn’t stay away. Hell, he’d slept at Steele Ops, and he hadn’t done that ever before. Well, tried to sleep—he hadn’t actually closed his eyes. Mostly, he’d laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about the dozens of feet of concrete above his head. Sometimes on the top floor of his studio, he still woke up in a puddle of his own sweat, expecting to be covered with a shit ton of debris and scrap metal.

  But the fact was that Isabel Santiago had been introduced into his life only a few days ago and had already managed to shake up his normal routine. He felt it. He sensed it. And it was only a matter of time before one of his asshole brothers called him out on it.

  On the grassy knoll to the right of the gazebo, Isa, Grace, Jaz, and Zoey set up the alcohol-themed cornhole Liam had purchased on the first warm spring day. They laughed and divvied themselves up into teams as Knox and Cade came up on his left.

  His brother’s eyes fastened on Zoey as she bent over to retrieve a pair of sacks. “That sight sure as hell never gets old.”

  Cade groaned. “Come on, man. We agreed on no sexy sister talk.”

  “If I have to listen to sexy cousin talk—who’s basically my little sister—then you can deal with hearing how much I want to take Zoey to the
boat right now and—”

  “Stop!” Roman grimaced and shot them both a glare. “How about you both go take cold showers and leave your significant others alone for a night?”

  His brother and friend shared a look.

  Cade smirked from over the rim of his beer. “I don’t think we’re the only ones who should be taking a cold shower. You’re looking at the doc like she’s the main dish at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  “Did someone say buffet?” Tank chose that moment to join them. “Don’t think there’s much open right now.” His gaze traveled over to the girls. “Ahhhh, now I get it.”

  “What the hell is it everyone seems to get that I don’t?” Roman growled.

  Knox smacked him on the back. “What would be the fun in telling you? In the meantime, I think we should go up the stakes on that game of cornhole.”

  Roman swallowed a curse and slowly followed his brother, Cade, and Tank as they joined the girls. Zoey immediately jumped into Knox’s arms, and Grace drew Cade into a slow kiss that left him glassy-eyed and grinning like a fool.

  They’d all fought against painful personal pasts, conquered demons, and leaped over obstacles to get their happy endings, both figurative and literal. Coupledom worked for them.

  For him, not so much.

  Yet as Knox whispered into Zoey’s ear, eliciting a rosy glow in her cheeks, Roman briefly pictured himself having that kind of connection with someone, of feeling more comfortable in someone’s presence than he was in seclusion.

  And then he skated his eyes toward Isabel as she watched the doe-eyed couples, too.

  A wistful smile curled her top lip and crinkled her eyes right until a smirking Jaz dropped a set of bean bags in her hands.

  “You’re first up. Don’t choke.” The Marine chuckled evilly as she walked toward the other end of the game zone.

  “What do I do?”

  “Throw it…and get it in the hole.”

  Jaz, always the smart-ass.

  Biting her lip, Isabel nervously estimated her throwing distance until she let the first bag fly. It went rogue, nearly taking an observing Tank’s head off in the process.

  “What the hell?” Tank ducked, throwing Jaz a hard scowl when she doubled over in laughter.

  “Oh my God.” Tears slid down Jaz’s face. “Please do that again. I’ll pay you to do that again but to hit him this time.”

  “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this.” Isa grimaced.

  “The trick is to follow through with the arm like in golf,” Roman chimed in with his own advice. Forgetting his earlier plan to keep his distance, he came up behind her. “Don’t adjust the size of your swing. Change the amount of energy you apply to it.”

  Isa teased, “Are you a reigning cornhole champion or something?”

  “Two tournaments running. Remind me to show you the trophy later,” Roman said dryly.

  Isa gasped with a mock clutch of her chest. “Was that a joke? Did Roman Steele just crack a funny?”

  “I don’t joke about cornhole, Dr. Santiago.” This time, Roman’s lips betrayed him, inching up at the corners.

  Isabel’s gaze dropped to his mouth, her own bottom lip trapped between her teeth in a sexy-as-hell nibble that he wanted to free with a small bite of his own.

  Fucking hell.

  Roman swallowed a groan and reminded himself where they were, but his dick didn’t seem to care. It twitched in his pants, recalling with perfect clarity how her mouth had felt fused to his…and how much it wanted to fuse with other parts of her body.

  Roman yanked his thoughts from his cock and onto the second hole across the grass. “Want a lesson from a cornhole god?”

  Isa chuckled. “Why not? Teach away.”

  He gently turned her so she stood in front of him. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he slowly slid his other to her elbow. “First, test the weight of the bag. Bounce it in your hand. Let your muscles figure out how much oomph you need to put behind your swing.”

  Isa did as he said and leaned closer to the opposite board.

  “Nope.” Roman dropped his hand to her hip. “Posture straight. Leaning closer only messes up your trajectory.”

  Roman bit his tongue as she straightened. Her dark hair brushed against his nose, and damn she smelled good, a mixture of sweet vanilla and cinnamon…definitely an edible combination if he’d ever smelled one.

  “Test the weight. Measure the oomph factor. And throw,” Roman instructed. She listened, concentrating hard, and this time, half the bag dropped into the board’s opening. “Closer. Now start the process again.”

  With determined focus, Isa kept her eyes on her target, and threw. Her last bag dropped straight through the hole.

  “Oh my god! I did it!” Spinning around, she flung her arms around his neck in a tight hug and jumped excitedly. “I really did it!”

  Wrapping his arm around her waist to prevent them both from toppling over, he chuckled at her enthusiasm—right until they both realized that every hard plane of his body was now pressed flush against every soft curve of hers. His hardened cock pushed into her stomach, not making a secret of how much it liked her closeness.

  “Shit. Sorry.” Isa pulled both her body and her gaze away. “I think I’ll end my cornhole career on a high note, and maybe turn in for the night.”

  “You’re mine tonight.” The words left Roman’s mouth before he could think about how they sounded.

  Isabel’s dark eyes widened. “What?”

  Fuck. Roman cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I meant that I’m on doctor duty tonight. Which is going to happen at my place…if you don’t mind. In case you’re wondering, it’s just as secure as here. No one gets in or out unless I say so.”

  “Okay. Well, then, I guess I’ll just go grab the things Jaz picked up for me.”

  Jaz shouldered her way between them, not bothering to hide the shit-eating grin on her face. “I’ll go downstairs with you.”

  Roman nodded. “I’ll get my keys and meet you back out here in five.”

  He watched Isa and Jaz disappear into the distillery before jogging to the back room behind the bar to grab his keys.

  Five minutes later, he still hadn’t talked his dick back to half-mast. “What the fuck is your problem, Steele?”

  “Would you like me to text you the list?” Liam stepped into the storeroom and grabbed two bottles of their newest whiskey brews. “On the other hand, my fingers might get tired. How about I do a verbal rundown?”

  “What the fuck do you want, Liam?”

  “A bottle of the vodka you’re standing in front of.”

  Roman grabbed one from the crate and tossed it to his brother, making him juggle it with the two others. “There. You got what you came for. Feel free to go.”

  “I should. If I were smart, I would…” Liam paused. “Oh, hell, I’m a freakin’ genius, and yet I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re hiding in the back room.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Roman growled.

  He hoped to warn his baby brother away with a glare, but no such luck. Liam leaned against the shelving unit, his hazel eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied him as if he were a circuit board.

  “There’s nothing to figure out, Liam. Don’t bother wasting your brainpower,” Roman warned.

  “It’s my brainpower, and I’ll waste it on whatever I want. Besides, it’s not like I have to use much to figure out why you’re in here and she’s not—and don’t insult my intelligence by denying you’re keeping your distance from Isabel.”

  Roman hated the fact that Liam could read him so well. “Distance is what’s best right now. Trust me.”

  Liam tucked his glasses higher on his nose. “I trust you on a lot of things, my brother, but matters of the heart and the fairer sex are not two of them.”

  “Don’t let Jaz hear you call women the fairer sex.”

  “And don’t try and change the damn subject.”

  “She’s involved i
n a current assignment, which means it’s hands-fucking-off. What’s a better reason than that?”

  “Because none of that matters when you meet the right person. Look at Knox and Zoey. At Cade and Grace.”

  He had…which was why he currently stood in the back room. In the short period he’d known Isabel Santiago, Roman had already questioned his moratorium on close relationships at least a dozen times. If he let himself get any closer, that number would only go up.

  He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Relationships meant trust. Trust meant vulnerability. And no way would he take someone’s trust in him and throw it in the trash when he inevitably fucked things up.

  “Fine. You want to keep your distance?” Liam said. “Then why don’t you take over at the bar and I’ll take doc duty tonight. Again.”

  “Like fucking hell,” Roman growled.

  At his brother’s smirk, he knew he’d played right into Liam’s hand. “Looks like you’re not as distant as you claim. I just want to go on the record as saying that if you walk away from something without even giving it a good ol’ college try, then you’re an asshole. Actually, worse. A cowardly asshole.”

  Without another word, Liam left. Hell, Roman couldn’t even be pissed at his brother’s lecture because it was the same one he’d given Cade himself not that long ago when he’d contemplated letting Grace walk away for the second time.

  With Liam’s words still tumbling around in his head, Roman returned to the back patio and Isabel. They said their goodbyes and a quiet car ride later, reached the warehouse. Roman tossed his keys on the entryway table, more than ready to take an ice-cold shower.

  With the exception of his family, no one had set foot inside his warehouse apartment before. It was his safe haven. His escape. And not only did Isabel Santiago make herself comfortable by kicking off her shoes, but he damn near fidgeted, wondering what she thought about it.

  He’d spent a long time and a lot of elbow grease converting the abandoned riverside warehouse to suit his needs, and he was more than happy with it. The downstairs gym was practically finished, waiting for him to get enough time to spread the word, and his upstairs apartment was every inch the New York studio apartment, jumbo-size, that he’d wanted.