by Hamel, B. B.
“It’s everything a girl could ask for.”
They were one-way tickets for me and Lincoln to Chicago for the day I was leaving to go back to school. Chicago was only two hours away from Notre Dame.
“I’m going to move there, at least for as long as you’re in school. After that, who knows?”
I pulled him close. “You’re doing the driving,” I said.
He laughed. “Yeah, I figured. Two hours is fucking nothing.”
We held each other like that for a few minutes. I loved the feel of his strong chest, his deep breath, and his smell. Two hours really was nothing. I could spend weekends in the city, or he could come spend a day or two during the week with me. We were going to make it work. No more bullshit long distance. He could finally meet my friends, even though they were going to have to wrap their heads around the ex-stepbrother thing. He could see the campus and see where I lived and worked.
He could be an everyday part of my life. A flesh and blood part of it, not just pixels on a screen.
“I thought that was a ring for a second,” I said softly.
He pulled back and looked at me. “It will be one day. I fucking love you, you know that, right?”
“I love you too.”
I had loved him for a long, long time. He didn’t need to say it, but finally hearing the words in person did something to me. Something shifted, and suddenly my world permanently included one more person.
We kissed.
It wasn’t the last kiss or the first kiss, and I knew there were many more to come. But in that moment, it was the perfect kiss, because it meant that there would be a future.
A future with Lincoln Carter.
Nothing could be more exciting.
Thank You
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Love sexy mob guys? Into taboo stepbrother romances? Then you should read the steamy-as-hell Jerked! Keep reading for the whole first chapter.
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My future stepbrother. My personal bodyguard.
Colin Blake is a mob a**hole. He’s rude, crude, and loves a good fight. He’s arrogant, self-assured, and won’t hesitate to take what he wants.
And we’re stuck in the same house. All because my psycho ex-boyfriend is chasing me down and won’t stop until he steals me back.
Worst of all, my stepbrother bodyguard treats me like a prisoner, and I’m supposed to act like I’m not staring when he walks around in just a towel. The truth is, I hate him for jerking me around when were younger, but I still want to taste his lips whenever we talk.
I can’t stand it.
I hate that I need his help. I hate that I want his body.
Even with the mob ready to go to war, all I can think about is his cocky grin driving me insane.
Jerked contains mature content (explicit sexual situations, violence, and mature language), and is recommended for audiences 18+.
Jerked is a standalone, full-length novel. No cliffhanger.
Click Here!
Chapter One: Brenna
I looked up at the old brick façade and the black wrought iron detailing around the front stoop and couldn’t believe I was back.
The cab pulled off, back out into traffic, before I had the chance to change my mind, hop back in, and head anywhere but home. I cursed my rotten luck and looked around. The old neighborhood looked the same: old brick Philly row homes, but clean and orderly—one of the richer south Philly neighborhoods.
Briefly, I wondered how many crimes had been committed in the halls of the houses that I could see. I wondered how many crimes had been committed in my own house.
Probably a lot.
With a sigh, I lugged my over-filled suitcase up the stoop and stood in front of the door. Did I have to ring the bell and knock, or could I just walk right in? That was a weird thought; it was my childhood home, after all, though I hadn’t been back in years. I opted for informal, grabbed the front door knob, and pulled it open.
I could feel that my back was covered in sweat already as the air conditioning hit me hard. I must have looked like a mess. It wasn’t a long trip from New York, but it felt like it had taken ages. I hated riding the train, but there were no other good ways to travel. Plus, I had left in kind of a hurry.
It wasn’t good to be home. Far from it, actually. I hadn’t exactly left on friendly terms, and my relationship with Daddy dearest had been strained at best ever since. We spoke a few times a year on the phone, but that was about it. Pleasantries, the bare minimum of small talk, and then nothing for months at a time.
Still, it was a nice trip down memory lane as I walked into the familiar foyer. Pictures of myself as a kid, smiling into the camera, my mom smiling up by my side, my dad with his typical mean mug look. I smiled softly to myself. That was back before she had passed away, before things began to take a turn, before I knew what dad did for a living. Those were the good old days.
“Hello?” I called out, and heard only my own voice echo back at me.
Typical. Of course my dad wasn’t home. He was probably too busy breaking some guy’s knees or whatever it was he did all day. Then again, I was a few hours early, so I could probably cut him a little break on that one.
With a grunt, I lugged my suitcase up the stairwell, heading for my bedroom. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but I was exhausted and alone and anyway, so what did I care? I was home; I didn’t need to be on all the time.
I looked around my nearly-empty childhood room and tossed the suitcase onto the bed. There wasn’t much left of it: everything I had cared about I had brought with me, and it looked like my dad hadn’t exactly kept it up.
I sighed. I guessed there would be plenty of time to redecorate.
My stomach grumbled as I looked around, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since I left New York. There wasn’t exactly enough time to have a nice meal; I hadn’t really given much thought to my escape. The only thing that mattered in that first hour or two was getting the hell out of there before things got even worse. I had been frantic as I threw things into my suitcase and ran out of my apartment, trying to get the image of what I saw out of my mind. Her blonde hair, bobbing up and down. The look on his face.
I shook my head. I couldn’t deal with those memories, not yet. Food first, emotional healing later. Maybe.
The hallway was empty as I walked quietly back toward the thin staircase that led into the kitchen. I remembered the hundreds of times I played in that space, running around and climbing down the weird staircase, which I now realized was for the servants or whatever back when the house was first built in Colonial times. I'd had a pretty good childhood, though my dad wasn’t the most attentive person in the world. But he had shielded me from the worst of the shit that went on around us, keeping me blissfully ignorant. I'd lived in my own little bubble, daughter of one of the largest Irish Mob bosses in the entire city, the Mob Princess. I remembered all the men that came in and out of the house, and how kind they were to me. At the time, I had thought I was special. Now I realized they were just trying to suck up to my dad.
As I neared the back staircase, I heard a creak, and the door to the bathroom pushed open. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Warm, steam-filled air rolled out as a body stepped into the hall. I practically shrieked, surprised as hell, as this damp, gorgeous torso appeared in the doorway. I gaped at him, not sure why some random guy was coming out of my shower. He was ripped like crazy, all muscles and perfectly toned abs, and all he was wearing was a thin white towel wrappe
d around his waist. I could see the outline of every one of his muscles glistening from the water from his shower. My heart started hammering in my chest as I ran my gaze along him.
“Shit, sorry,” I stammered as my eyes ran up his body and locked onto his face.
And that’s when I got the real shock.
“Hey Bren,” he said, grinning.
I couldn’t believe it. I recognized the voice, but it hardly matched up with my memories. We hadn’t seen each other in years, not since that time just before I left for college. Which, actually, was another thing I didn’t want to think about—one of many. But he had gotten taller, fuller, even better looking if that was possible. The only guy to ever turn me down, the cocky asshole that was always around our house when I was in high school, my pseudo-stepbrother, Colin Blake.
“Colin. Wow. You’ve uh ... grown up.”
I felt myself blush. Seriously? What was I even saying?
He laughed. “Yeah, you too. Last time I saw you, you were headed out to college, all fresh-faced and ready to take on the big city.”
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Right now, I’m talking to you, and it looks like you’re trying not to stare at my nakedness.”
I forced myself not to blush any more. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”
“You’re not surprised anymore.”
“Who just walks around in a towel, anyway?”
“People who take showers. And you’re early.”
“I didn’t hear you in the shower.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Bren. Still oblivious as always, I guess.”
I made a face. “Don’t start with that already.”
He laughed. “Okay, I’ll be nice.”
“Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“How about I get dressed first. Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever.”
I looked away from his cocky grin and began heading toward the staircase.
“It’s good to see you, Bren,” he called after me.
I paused and looked back. He was standing in the middle of the hall, one hand holding up his towel, water gathering around his defined chest muscles, smooth skin and cut jaw and full lips and piercing blue eyes all gathering me in. I blinked.
“Yeah, you too, Colin.”
I turned away and headed down the stairs as fast as I could without seeming like a total idiot.
Colin Blake. My father’s protégé and essentially his adopted son, though not legally at least. Growing up, there had been a lot of men hanging around my dad, but Colin was the youngest, and he was the only one who actually lived with us for a while.
I didn’t know much about him, in all honesty. One day he had simply appeared out of nowhere, and began to spend time around the house, running errands for my dad and me. It wasn’t until much later that I realized he was being initiated into the Mob, but back then I didn’t really know much about that stuff. I’d never really seen him as a brother, though dad probably wanted me to. He was a year older than me, and we went to different schools, so we rarely saw each other. He grew up in an orphanage in the city, and when he turned eighteen, he was forced to find another place to live. I guessed my dad liked him a lot, because Colin came to stay with us for my last year of high school, and was still there up until the day that I left for college.
The very day I had been trying not to think about for years. I hadn’t heard much about him after that, though, but my dad had wanted me to think of him as my older sibling, and had always been going on about how much promise Colin had and how proud of him he was.
Little did he realize. If Daddy dearest found out the truth of what happened between Colin and me, I’m pretty sure Colin’s life would be a lot more difficult.
The weird thing was, there was no way Colin still lived in my dad’s house. That would be way too weird. And plus, wasn’t he at least twenty-four? He should have his own place. So then what the heck was he doing showering in my bathroom and walking around half naked?
I made my way into the kitchen and smiled at the familiar space. Dad hadn’t done a thing to the kitchen in years, and I was glad he hadn’t. Some of my best memories took place in there, from cooking with my mom when I was really little to joking around with my dad’s guys as I got older. Like a lot of homes, our kitchen was the heart of our family, and I spent many hours in there as I grew up.
I pulled open the stainless steel refrigerator door and made a face at how empty it was. Typical of my dad, unable to take care of the house in any way. He paid people to cook and clean, but trying to get him to stock the refrigerator like a normal person was like pulling teeth. I settled on a yogurt that was on the edge of its expiration date, and settled down at the island.
Being back felt crazy. I could remember the fight I'd had with dad on the day I left almost as if it had happened yesterday. You spoiled brat, you don’t know a fucking thing about what I do, he'd said to me, his face red with anger. He had never talked to me that way before, and hadn’t since.
In a lot of ways, I deserved it. You’re a violent thug, dad, and all of this stuff is bought with blood money, I had screamed at him. I had been a naïve kid and didn’t understand the way things worked back then. From his perspective, I had been ungrateful for what he had given me, and willing to turn my back on my family. Disloyalty was the ultimate insult, especially to people in the Mob.
But I had grown up a lot since then.
I finished the yogurt and heard a creak on the back staircase, announcing Colin’s entrance. I looked up as he turned the sharp corner wearing comfortable but still tailored grey sweats, the sort of thing you saw a fighter wearing, and a tight black T-shirt that accentuated every curve of his muscular frame. I had to will myself not to stare.
“Sorry about the food situation,” he said.
“Dad never was good at keeping the house stocked.”
“He’s a busy man.” Colin leaned up against the counter across from me and crossed his arms.
“How’s he doing?” I asked tentatively.
He laughed. “Really good, actually. He got a pretty big promotion recently.”
I held up my hands. “Do I want to hear about this?”
“Still hate the family business?”
“More like I’d rather not have to lie to a jury one day.”
He laughed with his whole body and I smiled. I remembered that laugh. I had tried to forget it, didn’t want to forget it, but everything came flooding back the second I had seen him.
“Yeah, well, that’s a fair point. Anyway, he’s doing good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. What about you?”
He shrugged and grinned. “You know me. Same as I’ve always been.”
“Still working for him?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. I let out a breath and looked around.
“It’s weird how empty it is in here,” I said.
“Yeah. That probably won’t last, though, so enjoy it.”
“When’s Dad getting home?”
He shrugged again. “Who knows? Some people are stopping by later to see you, so probably around then.”
I nodded. That was good; it would give me time to get used to being in the house again before I had to face him. I’d been dreading seeing him again, but I knew there was nothing that I could do about it if I wanted to stay in his house. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a party, but maybe it was better this way. It would provide a nice social setting to cushion the blow of being reunited.
“It’s really good to see you home, Bren,” Colin said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He grinned again then pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a green sports drink from the door. He twisted it open and took a deep drink while I watched him. I noticed that his hair was still wet from the shower.
“So, you mentioned telling me everything?” I prompted.
&nb
sp; He stopped drinking and nodded, expression serious. “Yeah, but you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
I sighed. My reason for coming home wasn’t exactly happy, and I expected a lecture from dad, not from one of his lackeys. Even if Colin was like a brother to me in my father’s eyes, that didn’t give him the right to talk to me about who I should date and who I shouldn’t.
“Fine, let’s get it overwith, then.”
He resumed his position of leaning against the counter, bottle resting next to him.
“Well, I guess I should tell you that I’ll be staying in the house with you for a while.”
I stared at him. “Seriously? Don’t you have, like, your own apartment?”
“Yeah, I do. But this comes from the big man himself.”
“So Daddy ordered you to watch over me?”
He frowned. “It’s not like that.”
I clenched my jaw. It was exactly like that, and we both knew it.
“What’s it like, then?”
“Bren, can you blame him? I mean, you call out of the blue, start talking about some cheating ex-boyfriend that smacked you around, and beg him to let you come home. Of course he’s freaked out.”
There it was, the reason I had come home. Vince Fabrizio, my asshole ex-boyfriend. I kept remembering the dumb slut’s head sliding up and down his dick, and the happy expression on his face as she blew him. And how angry he was later, when I said that I was leaving, and the pain of his slap stinging through more than just my skin.
“I get it, he doesn’t trust me. Still thinks I’m the spoiled brat that can’t take care of herself.”
He pushed off the counter and leaned over the island, looking at me seriously.
“It’s not like that. I’m here for protection, not as a babysitter.”
I snorted. “I don’t see the difference.”
“We looked into this guy Vince Fabrizio. We know who he is.”
My heart almost stopped at that. I hadn’t told Dad the truth, or at least I had neglected to tell him one important aspect. Vince was a Made Man in the Italian Mafia, and was part of one of the most powerful families in all of New York. That was what probably drew me to him in the first place: money, power, and excitement. He was so fucking sweet to me when we were dating, but it all turned to shit after. So typical—I had worked to get away from men like Vince, but in the end I couldn’t stay out of his bed. Things had moved so fast between us, and I had made so many mistakes.
