His Fight: The Downing Family Book 5

by Wild, Cassie

  “If you can make it happen, catch that bitch on her knees and make her beg to suck your cock. We can make her famous.”

  I clenched my fist so hard my knuckles cracked. “I’m not going to promise anything here, Marcos. See, I’m not overly thrilled about the idea of seeing my face—or my dick—played out for a bunch of strangers to whack off to. Not my thing. If I wanted to do porn, that’s what I’d do.”

  “Shit, Cormac. We can edit your face out.”

  “You can’t edit my dick out, and my dick is still me,” I said in a hard voice.

  He was silent long enough that I knew he’d picked up on the fact that I was serious. Finally, he laughed it off. “Fine. I didn’t know you were that uptight about shit. But you can still break that pretty little bitch, Cormac. I know her type. She’s soft. You’re not. Reel her in but let her think it’s the other way around. Once she thinks she has you…you can smash her. Leave her broken.”

  A muscle near my eye had started to tic, causing the whole room around me to pulsate.

  “You got any other demands…boss?” I asked softly.

  “Just keep me up to date. You suck at staying in contact, Cormac. You know that?” He hung up without another word.

  I stared at the phone, long and hard, as I considered throwing it across the room, then smashing the remains until there was nothing bigger than a sliver.

  But it wouldn’t solve anything.

  It wouldn’t do any good.

  Instead, I dropped it down on the couch next to me and leaned back, closing my eyes.

  I was fucking exhausted.

  The TV crackled, then a cheery little jingle played, followed by a cheery female voice announcing the news.

  “…still rushing around for those last-minute Thanksgiving Day deals…”

  “Thanksgiving,” I mumbled. Forcing myself to open my eyes, I stared at the water-stained ceiling overhead.

  In two days, I was supposed to go with Briar to meet her family.

  And Marcos, the son-of-a-bitch who’d paid me to come here and get close to the Downings now wanted me to get up close and personal with Briar. Fuck her. Get her to care about me. Use her. Then hurt her. Humiliate her. Dump her. Break her.

  Self-disgust rolled over me.

  I’d had jobs before that had involved fucking women and trying to pull secrets from them. I’d done it without a qualm and moved on without looking back. I’d used them without reservation. When I’d agreed to take this job, I hadn’t seen it as being much different, but it was, and it was getting more so all the time.

  Now Marcos had changed the game even more, making it clear that he would pull no punches when it came to sticking it to the Downing family.

  Fuck her. Use her. Break her.

  I shoved the heels of my hands against my eye sockets, trying to drown that voice out. I couldn’t, though.

  I had a bad, bad feeling that Briar already cared about me.

  How much longer could this go on before she realized something wasn’t right?

  And once that happened, would there be any way to avoid hurting her?

  I suspected the answer to that was no.

  Ten

  Briar

  Cormac showed up at my house looking like a rough-and-tumble model. The bruising on his face had faded almost completely, the faint shadows giving him a slightly dangerous aspect that I found way too appealing.

  I had no idea that kind of thing could get to me, especially considering how pissed I’d been once I’d learned the details of his fight with Jerrel Waddell. Yet here I was feeling a touch overheated as I took in the sight of him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked as I opened the door to him.

  “Not quite.” My voice sounded a little sharp, and I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I’ve been rushing trying to get everything done. I told my sister-in-law I’d make a couple of sides, then I overslept. I’ve just barely finished getting dressed.”

  Cormac’s gaze slid over me, eyes lingering on my chest, then sliding lower. “Hey, you didn’t have to rush on my account,” he said gruffly.

  The tone made me shiver, and I backed up as he reached out to touch me. “Stop it,” I said, shaking my head. “You go touching me, we’ll probably end up in bed, then we’ll be late, and they’ll all be guessing why, and I’ll get all embarrassed, and they’ll tease me about it, and it will just get worse from there.”

  “Embarrassed about me?” He cocked his head, studying me.

  “No, you dope.” I pushed him playfully. “Embarrassed because I have no doubt they’ll figure out why we’re late, and I’d rather they not go speculating, then teasing me about it. Or grilling you. You should have seen the grief they gave the guy who took me to my first formal.” Making a face, I added, “And that was just a couple of years ago. I doubt they’ve improved much.”

  He chuckled. The sound rippled over my flesh, making me break out into goosebumps. I suppressed a shiver and stepped to the side, gesturing for him to enter. “Come on. I just need to slip into my shoes. I’ll need your help carrying the dishes out to the car, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m at your service.”

  I came down the stairs a few minutes later to find him coming back inside. He held up my keys, wiggling them. “Your keys were on the table there.” He pointed at the elegant Queen Anne situated under the mirror in the entryway. “I put one of the dishes in your trunk already. I figured you’d want to take your car…?”

  He left the sentence open-ended, cocking his brow in question.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged as I took the last step, appraising his outfit. He wore a battered leather jacket open over a button-down shirt that was a bit dressier than what I’d expected to see and a stylish pair of jeans that outlined long, lean thighs. Sensory memory of the way his thighs felt rubbing against mine sizzled through me. As my face heated, I hurriedly turned away and headed into the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t seen the look in my eyes.

  The last thing I needed was for him to pick up on how much he affected me, even without touching me.

  He followed along behind me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw him pick up the other item I’d made, a crock-pot with a pasta dish. “Is there anything else after this?”

  “Some rolls, but I can get them,” I told him.

  He nodded and hefted the crock-pot. As he left the kitchen, I snuck a look at his denim-framed ass. That guy had such a butt on him.

  * * *

  “So, Declan is the oldest,” I told Cormac as I hit the interstate, heading for my father’s house. Dad lived about fifteen miles outside of Philadelphia on the family estate. The home was tucked away on a large piece of property that provided him a fair amount of privacy.

  “What does he do?” Cormac asked.

  I snuck a look at him from the corner of my eye. I’d already planned on how to handle this. When one met new people, they tended to ask questions like that—typically what one might consider harmless. While I knew my family had answers for such questions, I hoped if I got it out of the way, Cormac just wouldn’t ask.

  I was at the point to where even listening to the lies and half-truths hurt, so if I could avoid any of it, I did what I could to make it happen.

  “He does a little bit of this, a little bit of that,” I said, keeping it vague. “Recently, both Declan and my other older brother, Brooks, have convinced my dad to get more into real estate. Residential properties, mostly. Declan also messes around with the stock market. He’s got a head for it and can make nothing into something without even trying. Sean, my younger brother, is more into the real estate thing, but he likes commercial properties.”

  Hoping the running monologue would suitably convince him that I’d told him more than I really had, I went on to talk about some of the areas my family now owned or were moving to partner with.

  I’d talked nearly ten minutes straight by the time I took the next exchange on the interstate. Shooting him a quick look, I asked, “I guess you’ve found
a decent place to stay by now?”

  “If you want to call it that,” he said, voice low, vaguely irritated.

  “Okay. I mean, if you’re going to be in the area a while, I know Brooks has his focus on rental properties that covers all ranges in income.”

  I could practically feel him watching me. “Didn’t you tell me you didn’t know anybody who could help out with that sort of thing?”

  “Yes.” My face heated, and I squeezed the steering wheel more tightly. “In my defense, I didn’t really know you, did I? You were a total stranger.”

  He reached across the car’s console and laid a hand on my thigh. “And what am I now?” he asked.

  The heat of his palm was intense. Very intense. I pressed my lips together, stifling the instinctive gasp that rose to my lips as he spread his fingers wide, one of them brushing up against the apex of my thighs. I felt the heat of his hand clear through the material of my wool skirt.

  “Right now, you’re a tease…you’re also a distraction.” My voice was thready and weak. It didn’t sound anything like my real voice. But that was what he did to me. “Stop it before I wreck.”

  “You drive like a maniac, you know.” Even as he teased me, he pulled his hand back and settled more comfortably in the seat. He filled the entire space. More than filled it, really. He filled it, owned it…possessed it. “You never did answer me. Well, you told me I was a tease and a distraction, but what else am I to you, Briar?”

  The exit for my childhood family home was coming up, so I hit my blinker and started working my way toward the other side of the freeway. I didn’t answer right away, because I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. As I cleared the traffic and started down the exit ramp, I glanced over at him. “I’m still trying to figure that out. What am I to you?”

  He reached out to brush the back of his knuckles down my cheek, and it caught me off guard. “You’re trouble,” he said in a low voice.

  “The good kind or the bad kind?”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” He reached down and took the hand I had resting on the gear shift. Twining our fingers, he kept our hands linked until I had to break away ten minutes later to navigate through the trickier traffic of the small town only a few miles from the family home.

  In less than five minutes, we were on the final mile that led to the estate. Although we were less than thirty minutes from Philadelphia, we might as well have been in another country. The picturesque countryside was idyllic and beautiful, although it had been even more scenic a few weeks earlier when the fall leaves had still hung on the branches.

  I turned down the long, curving drive that led to the house and braced myself. Almost every time one of my friends saw the family home for the first time, they had something to say about it.

  Wow. You grew up here?

  How much money does your family have?

  Why do you even bother working if you got money like this?

  Must be nice, having it so good.

  But Cormac said nothing, head averted as he looked outside.

  We pulled into the horseshoe-shaped drive in front of the house. Putting the car in park, I looked over at him. “This is it.”

  He just nodded and climbed out without speaking to me.

  Nerves. I’d never met the parents of the few guys I’d dated, but I could only imagine how nervous I’d be.

  It wasn’t like we were all that serious, really. But I’d still be nervous.

  I groaned quietly before opening the door. Cormac was already at the back of the car, waiting for me to pop the lock so we could get the dishes of food.

  “How many people are going to be here?” he asked softly.

  “Eight,” I said. “Including you and me. My brothers, Sean and Brooks, along with their wives, then my dad. Are you nervous?”

  He hitched up a shoulder and hefted out one of the crock-pots, deftly grabbing the bag that held the rolls as well. “Been a while since I’ve done a meet and greet with anybody’s parents.” He frowned and added, “Including my own.”

  “You don’t talk to them much, do you?”

  “Haven’t in years.” He glanced at me, but only for a second.

  I wanted to ask him something, but the sound of a door opening interrupted us, and I turned to see Brooks jogging down the steps. He slowed at the sight of Cormac, giving him a cool look.

  Narrowing my eyes at my brother, I gave him a warning glare. Don’t start, I mouthed at him.

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  “Cormac, this is my brother, Brooks. Brooks, this is my friend, Cormac.”

  Cormac nodded at my brother. “I’d offer to shake hands but…” He shrugged and glanced down at the stuff he carried.

  “Not a problem.” Brooks came closer to me and dropped a kiss on my head.

  There was a lingering tension between them. Hoping to disrupt it, I pointed toward the trunk. “Hey, since you’re here, why don’t you get that?”

  “Sure.”

  As he passed by me, I gave him a not-so-subtle shoulder bump and said softly, “You better behave.”

  He grabbed the dish and transferred it to one arm, using his free hand to slam the trunk shut. “Get inside, sis. Daria is rushing around like the whole meal is about to fall apart if everybody doesn’t arrive right on time.”

  I rolled my eyes at his back, then started walking, moving slowly until Cormac fell into step next to me.

  We climbed the staircase that led up to the porch and front door, which stood open. Framed inside it was my father waiting for us. Cormac slowed to a halt as we drew near. I reached up and stroked a hand down his arm while smiling at my father. “Dad, this is Cormac. Cormac, this is my dad, Seamus Downing.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but my father’s face broke out into a wide smile. “I’d shake your hand, Cormac, but I see your hands are full.”

  “That they are, sir,” Cormac said politely. He nodded and glanced past Seamus to peer into the house. “If you’ll point me in the right direction, I’ll go put this down.”

  “Briar knows the way. We’re eating in the kitchen.” He rolled his eyes, a look of mock affront on his face. “I just don’t understand. We have a lovely dining room, but my daughter-in-law is loath to even use it.”

  “It’s too big for a small family meal, Dad,” I chided him. Then I turned my attention to Cormac and nodded. “Come on.”

  I led him inside and down a series of hallways until we came to the kitchen in the back of the main wing. Brooks had already reached the kitchen, and contrary to his comments about Daria panicking, she wasn’t rushing around like everything had been thrown into sheer chaos. She wasn’t rushing around at all.

  She was trapped in Brooks’s arms, his hand cupping the back of her head as he kissed her.

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat loudly.

  Daria tensed and tried to pull back, but my brother released her slowly.

  My sister-in-law finally worked her hands between them and pushed him back, wiggling until he let go. She smacked at his chest, and in a low voice, she whispered, “Behave.”

  “I’ve already told him that, Daria. Clearly, he isn’t in the mood to listen.” Fighting the urge to grin, I kept my voice casual. “I don’t know why I even waste my breath. He’s never been much for behaving, so no reason to think he’d start now.”

  “Don’t encourage him.” She wagged a finger at me, then beckoned for me to enter the kitchen. “Come on. Isabel is running late.”

  “What else is new?” I said, rolling my eyes.

  Daria snorted. “You remember the rolls?”

  I turned over the large plastic bag, twisted shut with one of those twist-ties. “From the baker a few blocks from where I live. Better than homemade.” I gave her an arch look. “I didn’t have time for homemade rolls.”

  She gestured toward the stove. “Just put them over there. Until Isabel and Sean get here, there’s no reason to even think about warming them up.”
Her gaze shifted away from me to rest on Cormac. “Hello.”

  He nodded at her and uttered something that sounded like hi.

  “I’m Daria.” She moved toward him, hand outstretched, not put off by his monosyllabic bullshit, for which I was grateful.

  He accepted. “Cormac.”

  “He’s a talker, isn’t he?” Brooks said under his breath.

  I shot him a dark look. “Weren’t you already told to behave?”

  “Yeah,” Brooks said, drawing the word out as he rocked back on his heels. He slid me a slow, sly smile as he added, “But I think it’s been established that I was never very good at that.”

  * * *

  “What do you do, Cormac?”

  I’d known that question was coming. Most of the meal had passed relatively easily, and I’d thought we’d managed to escape the worst of it, but now, my oldest brother Declan leaned back and took Cormac in with serious, quiet eyes.

  Cormac returned his study with the same consideration as Dad poured him some scotch. He didn’t answer Declan right away, just nodded his thanks to my father as Seamus offered him a glass.

  Dad moved on to Sean and Isabel. Isabel waved him off, claimed she was too far gone for more. Sean accepted the drink, his eyes also on Cormac, clearly awaiting his answer.

  Cormac sat calmly at my side, his scotch in hand. He swirled the nosing glass, then lifted it and took a quick sniff of the liquor. It caught me off guard, the ease with which he went through the ritual. I wouldn’t have expected him to know about it, much less follow through. He took a sip and caught sight of me staring, quirking a curious brow at me.

  I hurriedly shook my head and reached for my own glass.

  I wasn’t quite as traditional with my booze as my father was, so I was happy just to drink, although I did make a show of breathing in the aromas of the fine twenty-five-year Macallan.

  “I’m a jack of all trades, Declan,” Cormac finally answered as the whiskey rolled down my throat, smooth and silky. I was glad that he had grown comfortable enough to speak in full sentences. “I’ve done all sorts of odd jobs. Right now, I’m handling security.”