JARED (Lane Brothers Book 4)

by Kristina Weaver

“Ooookay, well, I’ll need a map so’s to keep away from there. I like my life meaningful and interesting.”

  Oh, Jesus, save us all from that trilling tone.

  I look away, breaking eye contact for the express purpose of not laughing aloud, again, when I see Benjamin giggling silently, his gray gaze trained to his right, his eyes dancing with so much mischief I can only but assume the lad’s done something particularly smart.

  My control almost slips when I look over to see my father’s soup swimming in grapes, his snowy white shirt covered in orange droplets thanks to Benjamin’s skill and aim with a spoon and fruity ammo.

  “This soup’s gross, man. Haven’t ya heard of burgers or mac and cheese? Seriously, Mad, when we get home I’ma make you a wicked good burger. Hey, Ash, can we make Mad some real food so she can forget about this yucky stuff these people eat?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeding her real food, kid, but if you want burgers I can do that.”

  “Yeah, Gramps, maybe we can ask Ash to make us some here for dinner!” he yells down the table, garnering my father’s attention with his loud and altogether enthusiastic joy.

  The old man, instead of giving him the usual grunt and evil eye, stares at him thoughtfully, his eyebrow raised in contemplation.

  “I’ll consider your request when you stop throwing grapes into my soup, young man.”

  And with that he flicks his newspaper and goes back to his usual pursuit of ignoring any and everyone around him. His wife included.

  Of course, I’m sitting there with my bloody mouth hanging open and struggling to associate that calm demeanor with the scathing, heated set-downs I’d received my whole life.

  “Hey, all my party people! Why didn’t anyone invite the Cammy to the party?”

  Oh, bleeding Christ!

  I turn just as the little termagant comes hopping into the room, her bottom lip hanging in a mock pout that lasts all of thirty seconds before she turns to Mother with look of patient understanding.

  “Your invitation must have been lost in the mail. No worries! I’m here now. Sooo, anywho, I’ve brought along my fiancé to meet the parentals. Now, now Mother, don’t get all over excited! He’s just a lowly American come to meet you,” she trills, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Camille—”

  “Oh, chill out,” she laughs. “Hi, Pops! Are you still tuning out of life to ignore the old ball and chain’s existence then? That sucks.”

  I’m silently laughing at this all too familiar display when Brody comes strolling in, his face a portrait of lazy indulgence.

  “Keep it down, sugar, the staff are circling the wagons. Want to introduce your guy or what?” he drawls, planting a kiss on her puckered brow.

  “Um, not until she answers my question. No sense in doing the song and dance if we’re not staying. Sooo, Mother dearest, is it true that you paid that Barker girl to lie to Luc about his daughter and then stashed her with some flaky, good for nothing old coot in the wilds of Cornwall?”

  And I should have known the little baggage would come in and muscle in on my fun.

  Chapter Thirty

  Oh, aaaawkwaaard!

  A pin could drop at the neighbors’ place and we’d still hear it, it’s gone that quiet in the room. As introductions and first meetings go, this one hasn’t been so bad.

  Of course, it could have been worse, considering the kids’ behavior and my own brand of charm, but I have to give this lady credit: she’s a mine of patience and disdainful sufferance.

  What I don’t get is how that bag of rotten ever gestated anything alive, never mind giving birth to Cammy.

  But back to the matter at hand.

  I peep over at her from beneath my lashes and see the outward flinch she can’t manage to hide before looking down the table at Lucian’s father, Lord Jasper the Disinterested, and I gape.

  He’s looking at his wife. No, that can’t be simply described as a look. He’s fuming over at his wife, his face having gone so cold and dead I suddenly know where Lucian gets the skill.

  This dude is one hundred percent pissed off and all kinds of mad. If I were sour lips, I’d be outta here as fast as my legs could carry me. But this woman…she’s a whole ‘nother breed, apparently, because she just calmly sits there, schooling her features under that molten stare.

  And then he stands, coming to his feet—so deceptive, he’d looked, because this dude must be at least six three if not more—and planting his fists into the table.

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, honestly, I have no idea what the child is saying.”

  Lie!

  “Listen to me, and listen very carefully, Cynthia. If I find out that this is true, that my son had a child that you hid away or got rid of…if your name is in any way linked with any of this, I will make you regret the day you ever met me. Understood?”

  She can do nothing but nod, her thin veneer of disdain cracking beneath one of the worst stares I have ever seen on a human being’s face.

  “Lucian, my study. Now.”

  I wanna go with, just in case my guy needs help against Mr Coldness, but one look and shake of the head lets me off the hook, leaving me alone with the kiddies, the dragon, and a smiling Cammy and Brody.

  Phew. Seems wrong, but right now I’m thinking this chick is most definitely the lesser of two evils.

  “Daaamn, Mother, that was one hell of a cracker you just told Pops, huh?” she continues, smiling broadly enough I’m worried her cheeks will rip.

  “You little upstart—”

  “Oh, good grief, don’t do a nutter. Your face might split if you show too much emotion.”

  That gets me chuckling loud enough that Lady Lemons throws me a glare and looks down her snooty nose at me.

  “Uh, Cam, lay off the juice till I get the…” I roll my eyes at the kids. “Outta here.”

  “Oh goodness, you’re right. Brody darling, do us a solid and take the little dears outside, would you? We have a few things to discuss with mummy dearest.”

  Brody, being the irascible darling that he is, corrals the kids before blowing his future mother-in-law an air kiss.

  “Good luck. She’s in a damn fine mood today!”

  And then it’s just us, all three Jasper woman engaged in a silent showdown.

  “You’ve caused more than enough trouble. I want you all out of my home before the end of the day.”

  Oh ho! Somehow, now that the lord of the manor knows that the little girl he’d barely paid attention to is his granddaughter, I have a feeling it’s her old ass that’ll be hitting the curb.

  I hold my tongue only because I’m enjoying her discomfort as we continue staring at her.

  “I’ve done nothing—”

  “But you have, Mother. I just need to prove it. Which I will. Now be a good dear and give us a clue as to how you found out about the baby in the first place. It’ll make things so much easier.”

  “You’ll never prove a thing.”

  That snide, totally confident statement is exactly the wrong thing to say. Not because Cammy the Ravager is here and looking like she’s ready to go ten rounds with Ali himself, but because I am now more than confident that this woman has been messing with my guy for years.

  That shit just won’t fly.

  Instead of ripping her bobble head right off and shoving it down her neck, I go one worse and pick up my phone, keeping my eyes on her as the line rings and then gets picked up.

  “We need you.”

  It’s all I need to say.

  I disconnect with a cold smirk and nod at Cam, giving her the thumbs up.

  “Lady, you’re about to be schooled.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Luc

  I have officially entered the Twilight Zone, or the bloody circus. My father, a man who has hardly said two words to me besides a put-down or outright cursing, has turned into a man I don’t recognize.

  He’s spent his every waking hour with the children, actually play
ing with them and taking them out to tour the grounds—water guns and all—and refuses to call Benjamin anything but his ‘little lad’.

  I’m flabbergasted, to say the least, since one: the lad isn’t even his grandson by blood, and two: the little bugger is even naughtier now than he ever was.

  Just this morning he’d told me, “Gramps said I can have ice cream whenever I want as long as I’m under his roof.” Bloody brilliant.

  And I can’t even explain the way the old codger looks at Maddy. It’s as if his every dream has come true since he’d bothered to take a closer look and seen the Jasper eyes on the little mite.

  According to him she’s a chip off the old block, something I hadn’t heard from him once the whole time I’d been under his roof.

  Like I said, weird.

  And then, to top it all off, the place has been overrun by three of the strangest women I have ever encountered.

  The Goldens, according to Ashley, are her secret weapon against my dastardly mother. She says that if there’s anything to find about what really happened seven years ago, Viv will find it.

  The other two are only here to keep Mother in line, something they’re particularly good at, since Nat is Chicago royalty and knows how to elegantly keep the old bat occupied without ripping her head off.

  Now it’s just a waiting game as my father’s people ferret out the truth of what actually happened. If Viv will let them get there before her rabid arse does. The woman, and I say that lightly, because I’m sure she’s a supernatural being, is dogged and ruthless.

  To hear her tell it, she’s going to bat for me just because she doesn’t like Ash being upset because I was royally screwed by these bitches who’d stolen my kid.

  Her husband, Jack, a man I know well, since we do business together from time to time, has told me to let her at it and just relax. He says his ‘little tornado’ won’t be tamed and that she’d be likely to rip my throat out if I stood in the way of ‘justice’.

  Whatever.

  Truth be told, now that my father’s come around and I don’t have the luxury of finding the truth myself, I’m more focused on how to get my wife to let me touch her again.

  I go to bed hard and wake up in the same condition, thanks to her veto on sex.

  Apparently she needs to rebuild the trust before she lets me anywhere near her body. I can honestly say I’ve never been this bloody frustrated before in my entire life.

  And this is where I stop everything and take my balls back.

  Yes, I just said it. No need to start burning bras or some shit. I’m a man, a man who needs his woman, and the fact that she’s trying to lead me around by the nut sack has gone too far.

  I’ve never said I was a nice man, and for some reason, reminding myself that I’ve never lied to her about who I am gives me the notion that what I’m about to do to my pregnant wife is completely within my rights.

  ***

  Ash

  “Lucian, what is this? I don’t feel comfortable leaving the kids with your wicked witch roaming the halls,” I huff out, taking in the spectacular penthouse suite in one of London’s most expensive hotels.

  Okay, so maybe it is great that we’re finally alone and out of that mausoleum, and maybe I’m doing a lot more than covertly checking him out as he shuffles around the room and starts uncovering room service.

  Oh, yum, roast chicken.

  “Let’s eat.”

  His voice is clipped, short, the same tone he uses with me whenever his patience is at an end. I know this is the case, since he’d all but told me this morning, ‘Ashley, I’m getting tired of this shit’ when I’d woken with his fingers in my cooch and all but screamed bloody murder.

  Now we’re all alone, and I get the distinct impression that when he’d said he was loaded for bear, what he was saying was he’s about to screw me into next week.

  Good thing for him I’d decided, after his hissy fit and tantrum in the bathroom, that I want him just as badly. I’d planned to seduce him and ride his ass all night, but it seems my guy is back in take-charge mode.

  So I sit down and eat, throwing him the occasional glare just to keep things spicy and maintain the illusion that he’s in charge of things.

  “I’m done,” I say later, when my stomach can’t possibly handle one more crumb, and he nods, taking my hand to lead me over to the huge bed.

  “You need a nap.”

  I snort but allow him to tuck me in before going out to the seating area. He probably has some work to catch up on before he lays into me about everything that’s going on and my no sex rule.

  I fall asleep smiling, only to wake an hour later with my wrists tied to the bed and my husband leaning over me, a wicked smile on his face.

  “Luc?”

  This is so not something I’d ever have anticipated because, well, Lucian is one of those guys who doesn’t cotton to using kink and stuff in the bedroom.

  His viewpoint states that if we’re passionate enough about each other, sex in its most basic forms should be just as wild as using ‘accessories’ to amp up the heat.

  I agree, since I have trouble keeping up with his insatiable ass on a good day—believe me, the man knows what to do with his hands, tongue, and other parts.

  Bondage, however, is not something I would have taken a shine to, but it seems—

  “Ah, good, you’re awake. Now open your mouth, please, and keep it open.”

  I don’t even get a chance to obey before his fingers are pinching around my jaw, opening me for the thrust of his tongue. He consumes me in one lick, attacking my mouth as if he’s starved and feasting for the first time in years instead of a few measly weeks.

  My vagina is ecstatic, and tells me so by clenching and letting off a stream of moisture that’s screaming for friction.

  How Luc kisses this way has me on the brink with nothing more than his wide open mouth and licking tongue… I don’t even have to participate, which, strangely, is exactly what he demands when I try to suck his tongue deep into my mouth.

  “Stay still. I’m eating.”

  And boy, golly does he do just that. By the time he’s ready to release my mouth I’m nothing but a puddle of melting goo beneath him. At this point I’m so turned on by nothing more than his mouth touching mine that I’ll do anything he wants if he’ll just do me. Hard.

  “Please, Luc,” I whimper, undulating and lifting my hips when he all but rips my clothes off and sits back to take in my body.

  I’m only a little over three months pregnant—yeah, I’ve been knocked up since basically our first go round—but my bump is pronounced and bigger than I think it should be.

  “I’ve had chocolate cravings lately,” I titter when his eyes go dark and he lays hands on my naked tummy. “And ice cream and cookies. And marshmallows.”

  I chortle happily at my own confessions before looking up at him only to stop mid-giggle. His eyes are so hard I can’t help but shiver with trepidation, and his mouth is set in a way I’ve never seen.

  “Uh, Luc?”

  “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now? I can’t wait to see you grow bigger with my son,” he growls, bending down to plant a hard kiss beneath my navel.

  I swallow loudly and shake my head, not knowing quite what to say to that. I mean, I know my guy’s a possessive ass and that he’s basically obsessed with my body—score for me—but this is a new level of want I see in him, and I can’t rightly say I’m too displeased with it.

  “You are, love. You’re bloody gorgeous.”

  I wanna tell you the rest of this sex part, really I do, but it seems the long weeks of going without have done something to my man, because after going down on me for an eternity, he really brings his A game and does some seriously nasty shit to me that I can’t talk about. Unless you sign an NDA.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Luc

  “Lucian, no! Stop it, Luc!”

  Stop it? She wants me to just stand here and not do anything? Is this
woman out of her goddamned mind?

  “When I’m done with you…!”

  I’m so pissed I want to rip into something and keep going till my hands are wrapped around that throat. I want vengeance and blood and every fucking thing I can think of.

  “Baby, please! Please just calm down. Pops is gonna take care of it,” she pleads, wrapping her small arms around me and hanging on for dear life.

  She’s a smart one, this. She knows that with her and my child hanging onto me I have no choice but to calm down lest I hurt them, something I would rip my own hands off before doing.

  But it’s damned close, and every single bastard in this room knows it as I look at that waste of skin and oxygen noisily crying on the sofa.

  “You are dead to me. Do you understand me.”

  Not a bloody question, but a statement of fact.

  The moment Viv had come to me and handed me that folder detailing this woman’s involvement in the stealing of my daughter, I’d been ready to commit an unspeakable act of violence.

  If not for the fact that Viv had told Ash before giving me the info, I would already now be throttling the life out of that leech and watching her eyes dim to lifelessness.

  What that file had shown was my poor baby being cared for by a crotchety old woman who’d cared less for her than a dog cares for its whelps. She’s that thin because she’d been lucky to be fed by the young woman, Carrie Elms, who’d come in three times a week to clean the old woman’s hovel of a cottage.

  According to what Viv had dug up, and what Carrie had said when Viv had finally tracked her down, she’d gone searching through the old lady’s things and eventually found my name and looked me up.

  Of course, after seeing my picture she’d been savvy enough to know that the child was mine. Plus she’d heard a few conversations between the old lady and Maddy’s mum—seems the troll hadn’t abandoned the child altogether and still went to see her every fortnight—and surmised that I was a safer bet.

  She’d spent all her savings bringing the child to America and then left her to get to me, not wanting to be blamed for what had happened or was going to happen once Maddy reached me.