Locke Brothers Series

by Ashley, Victoria

  I turn away from him, staring at presumably his bedroom. It’s sparse, lacking anything warm, inviting… just like Sterling.

  He turns my head so I’m looking at him, his gaze fierce, strong, frightening. “Tell me who did this, and I promise they’ll pay.”

  I knew coming here would be dangerous, not for me, but deadly for the asshole who’d put his hands on me. But when Kevin had started hitting me all I could think about was Sterling.

  “Tell me, baby.”

  In all the years I’ve known Sterling, known the Locke brothers, never have I heard him sound so… gentle.

  “I was dating this guy… Kevin.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “At first, he was nice, sweet. But when he started getting verbally abusive I knew I couldn’t stay. I knew I had to get out before it escalated.”

  Sterling’s body is tight. I can see the way his muscles are bunched under his shirt, how tense his jaw is.

  “But when I went to break it off the escalation was already there.” I touch the side of my face, wincing at how tender the whole thing is. “I ended up knocking him over the head with the first thing I could grab, which was a lamp.” I can see the scene in my head, fresh, brutal. “He’d just gone crazy, hitting me, cursing at me. It was so bad that I even passed out once and close to a second time. Finally, once I got enough strength to fight back, I reached for the lamp and knocked it over his head as hard as I could manage.” I know my eyes are wide when I look at Sterling again. “What if I killed him?”

  I’d seen blood, knew I’d cut him pretty good when the ceramic had broken.

  Sterling starts grinding his teeth in anger. “I hope not, because what I have planned for that asshole is far worse than death.”

  He pulls me against his chest again and I close my eyes instantly. I just absorb the feeling of being here, in his arms, knowing everything will be okay.

  Yeah, it’ll be okay, with a dose of blood and violence that only a Locke brother can deliver.

  But somehow… I’m okay with that.

  3

  Wynter

  Without a word, Sterling begins searching through his dresser, pulling out items of clothing before walking back over to the bed and handing them to me.

  “The shower is down the hall. You’ll sleep in my room tonight. No one will fuck with you here, I fucking promise you that.” His voice is deep, rough, as if he’s finding it hard to be gentle.

  “Thank you, Sterling.” I stand up and walk over to him, stopping just inches before him. I know reaching out and touching him, especially his face, without permission might be stupid, but I do it anyway, wanting him to look me in the eyes when I say this next part. “I trust you. I know no one will touch me with you around.” It’s why I came here. “You’re the only person I wanted to come to when he hurt me. No one else…”

  His jaw tenses beneath my fingertips and a small growl leaves his lips, causing goosebumps to cover my flesh. If Sterling Locke growled at anyone else this way, they’d go running. And they’d have good reason to.

  “Clean up and I’ll bring you something warm to drink and eat.” His amber gaze locks on mine with an intensity that makes my knees go weak. He wasn’t asking. He was telling me. “If you weren’t covered in bruises, I’d offer to help, but my touch is anything but gentle. When I lay my hands on things… they get broken.”

  With that he turns and walks away as if he has no other choice.

  I take a deep breath and slowly release it, while gripping the pile of clothes in my left hand. His words shouldn’t turn me on right now, but I’d be lying if I said the idea of him helping me in the shower doesn’t have my body burning with need.

  I’ve always wondered how rough and savage Sterling would be in the bedroom. How much it would hurt when he slammed deep inside me. I’ve fantasized about his big, strong body taking me far too many times to remember.

  And just as I expected… he’d break me. He just said so himself.

  The very knowledge that Sterling is so brutal makes me feel this heat inside. I shouldn’t feel anything but pain, disgust, and fear over what happened, but there are buried feelings—strong ones—that can’t be ignored.

  When I get to the bathroom, the shower water is already on for me, a towel draped over the sink for when I get out.

  In the years I was with Kevin, he’d never once taken care of me in the way Sterling has in just the last twenty minutes.

  Sterling may be dangerous, but I know without a doubt that he has a gentle side. I know from when we used to talk at school that he believes any gentleness is long gone from the years of abuse he suffered at his parents’ hands.

  He’s wrong.

  I moved to Rookeland just after my fourteenth birthday, over eleven years ago, and I still remember the day I laid eyes on Sterling.

  His biceps were covered in bruises and scars, and it was clear he fought to keep them hidden, even though his shirtsleeves were too short for him and kept riding up his long arms.

  I remember thinking he was the biggest fourteen-year-old I had ever laid eyes on. He was even taller than our teacher, Mr. Hannagan, by a few inches.

  Then by our junior year he finally stopped growing, after reaching just over six feet and four inches. At least that’s what everyone said. I’m pretty positive no one was ever brave enough to get close to check.

  But by that year, the bruises had spread to his face. The abuse had shifted from his parents delivering it to Sterling causing fights with other students. I paid attention to him each and every day and wished I was brave enough to at least talk to him about his family and see if he needed a friend.

  He watched me every day too. I could never figure out if it was only because he knew I watched him and he wanted to make sure I stayed out of his business, or if it was because he was protecting me.

  After Bobbie Mason came to school one day with his face beat to hell and back—the day after causing a scene with me in the hallway—I knew then the real reason that Sterling watched me.

  He was protecting me. Just like I wanted to protect him.

  By the time we graduated, Sterling had moved on to bigger, more dangerous things, causing the whole town to fear not only him, but all the Locke brothers.

  All of that seems like another life now, so long ago.

  When I step out of the shower, I jump back a few inches, not expecting Sterling to be standing there, holding the towel out for me.

  “Holy shit. You scared me.” My heart races as I look him over, standing there tall and stern. I have the shower curtain covering me, and although him seeing me partially naked should embarrass me, it doesn’t. I’m more embarrassed by what Kevin did to me—by what I feel I let him do to me—than anything.

  Sterling’s gaze hardens as he looks me over, taking in the bruises covering the parts of my body he can see. “I’m going to kill this fucker for laying his hands on you. But I’m going to do far worse than that first. By the time I’m through with his ass he’ll be begging me to put him out of his misery.”

  I close my eyes as he gestures me forward and wraps the towel around me. I don’t miss how he presses his face into my wet hair.

  Having him so close gives me a feeling of peace and safety I haven’t felt in a while, but when his hands grip my waist and his body moves in close to mine, it gives me a whole other feeling I haven’t felt in a while.

  This is crazy. I’m crazy for feeling these things in this moment.

  “I’ve always wondered what it’d feel like to have you touch me…” I lean my head back, feeling his hard chest against it. “What your strong hands could do to my body. If they would hurt or feel good.”

  I hear him swallow next to my ear. “How do they fucking feel right now?”

  I swallow too, knowing that at any moment his hands will be gone and I’ll be left with the memory for the night. “Good. Safe.”

  “That’s really fucking good.” He removes his hands from my waist and takes a step back. “Get dressed and I’ll come chec
k on you in a bit. I made you something to eat.”

  Once I’m dressed and back in Sterling’s room, I look over at the bedside table to see a mug of hot chocolate and a sandwich waiting for me.

  I grab it and take a seat on his bed, placing the warm ceramic to my lips. I’m not hungry, but I know he’ll insist I eat something.

  I sit here for long moments, finishing the hot chocolate and eating half of the sandwich. I instantly grow tired, the stress of the night and the three-hour drive hitting me hard, now that my stomach is filled with something warm and comforting… now that I feel safe.

  My father doesn’t even know I’m back in town yet and if he knew I was here with a Locke brother, he’d send one of his squad cars to pick me up and lock me away just to keep me from Sterling.

  I could’ve sent my father after Kevin. Could’ve let the law handle him, but after the way he hurt me and treated me like some kind of prisoner for the last few days, scared and helpless as he tortured me… spending a couple days behind bars won’t be enough.

  He needs to feel what I felt. He needs to hurt and bleed as I did.

  I want him to suffer at the hands of the one guy that I know will protect me. The one guy I wish I would’ve known how to protect when I had the chance.

  The guy everyone calls the Savage Locke.

  4

  Sterling

  I stand here for a second and just watch Wynter sleeping. She fell asleep about ten minutes ago, and although I’m furious, in a blood-boiling rage over that fucker hurting her, having her here calms me.

  I walk over to her and place the blanket on her fragile little body. She’s gorgeous, even though she has bruises all over.

  God, I’ll kill that fucker.

  I lift my hand and run my finger along her arm, which hangs out from under the blanket. Her flesh is so smooth, so warm. God, I hate that this is happening with her, but she’ll be avenged.

  No way in hell am I going to let some asshole hurt her and get away with it.

  I force myself to leave her in the room sleeping, and shut the door. I stand here for a second, controlling my breathing, knowing I need to speak with my brothers.

  I need to get shit sorted out and a plan made on how we are going to handle the motherfucker that hurt Wynter.

  Even though the door is shut I turn and look at it, wanting to go back inside and just hold her and comfort her, letting her know she’s damn safe in my arms. My feelings for her have never lessened over the years.

  In fact, having her here makes them heightened, makes them rise tenfold.

  I head back downstairs and go outside to the bonfire. Aston and Kadence are the only ones not there, and I have to assume that they went inside, probably so he could fuck her.

  I’m actually surprised to see Melissa still here, her chair now sitting close to Ace’s as if he pulled it there to talk to her while Kadence is gone.

  Flexing my jaw, I walk over to Ace and sit down, my anger so fierce it’s like a living entity in me. Ace turns his attention from Melissa to me, but doesn’t say anything, and honestly it is probably because he knows better.

  Talking about it right now is only going to piss me off more.

  A few minutes later the front door opens and I lift my head to see Aston coming toward us. He sits down across from me, his expression guarded, serious.

  “Kadence wants to talk to you inside,” he says to Melissa, while keeping his hard gaze on me. He waits until she disappears inside before speaking again. “So, what the fuck is going on?”

  I don't say a thing for long seconds, just stare at the fire, watching the flames dance and lick at the logs.

  “Well, who are we going to go fuck up?” Ace asks.

  I look at each of my brothers, knowing they have my back, knowing that they will kill and die for me.

  I’d do the same for them.

  “Wynter's ex-boyfriend beat her.” I have to clench my jaw and curl my fingers into my palm or I’d go out and beat the first motherfucker to cross me.

  The pain claims me, and I breathe out slowly. Just saying those words out loud makes me so damn pissed I want to go hunt the fucker down right now and slice his throat open.

  “Motherfucker,” Ace says under his breath.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up,” I say.

  “Wynter’s old man know?” Aston asks.

  I shake my head before responding. “I didn’t ask her and she didn’t tell me. But her coming here tells me that she probably didn't let him know.”

  I have a feeling she didn’t tell her father what happened. Him being involved with law enforcement would've probably made the situation even worse, drawing attention to her.

  I know she probably didn't want that.

  No, she came to me because she knew I’d handle it old school, real dirty and brutal.

  And I will. Hell, I’ll make the prick hurt so damn badly he’ll never be able to hurt another person again. He won’t even be breathing when I am done with him.

  Ace hands me a beer and I pop the cap, chug half of it in one go, and stare at my bedroom window. She’s up there right now, sleeping in my bed, hurt, scared, but not broken.

  I’ll make sure she is avenged, make sure she knows I’ll always protect her. For her I’d level the fucking world.

  “So how do we go about getting to this asshole?” Aston asks, and I glance at him.

  “She’ll tell me where he’s at, because that’s why she came here.” I look at Aston again, and then glance at Ace. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t regret coming here.”

  My brothers grunt in agreement.

  Blood will cover our hands, faces, the very ground beneath us. I’ll make sure he pays with his life. I’ll watch the life fade from his eyes.

  I’ll be so fucking savage with him he’ll beg me for death, for a reprieve.

  And all the while I’ll have a fucking grin on my face.

  I take one last chug off the bottle in my hand before standing and tossing it into the flames. “I’m going upstairs in case she wakes up and needs me.”

  “Got it, brother,” Aston says. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to make her comfortable here.”

  “Yeah,” Ace adds. “She’s welcome here for as long as she likes. The closer she is, the better we can fucking protect her.”

  “Appreciate it.” I turn to leave. “Good night, motherfuckers.”

  When I get back upstairs, she’s still sleeping, lying there looking completely peaceful and at ease.

  Good. I’m glad her being here can make her feel that way.

  Grabbing the extra pillow, I take a seat in the chair beside the bed and get comfortable.

  It’ll be hours before I’m able to fall asleep, but I’ll stay here anyway, making myself as available to her as possible.

  I’m not fucking leaving this spot tonight.

  5

  Wynter

  I wake up in the middle of the night to see Sterling sleeping in the chair. He looks so uncomfortable. My first instinct is to want to make him comfortable, just as he was so quick to do for me.

  I crawl to the edge of the bed and grab his hand, running my fingers over the light scars that cover them.

  You can tell he uses his fists a lot more than the average man.

  He opens his eyes as I tug on his hand, letting him know that I’m giving him permission to join me in his bed.

  In fact, I’d feel better if he did: safer.

  This isn’t about sex, isn’t about pleasure. This is about keeping him close and making both of us feel a little better about the world. Or maybe that’s just me.

  “Are you sure?” he questions, his voice deep and full of sleep. “You’ve had a rough night. I want you to be comfortable.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Please…”

  The bed dips beside me the moment his knees hit the mattress, his body towering over mine as I look up at him, watching his heavy breathing.

  But even though I don’t think this is about plea
sure or sex, I can’t help how he makes me feel.

  He makes me feel wanted, heated. He makes me feel pleasure after the traumatic event I just went through.

  He’s hot. I can tell by the sweat that covers his neck and the part of his chest that is exposed by his shirt collar dipping low. I reach out and grab the bottom of his shirt, slowly pulling it up.

  He sits tall, his body flexing as I pull it higher, my gaze taking in the scars that cover his tattooed chest. Scars I know were left there by his piece of shit parents.

  I fucking hate it. Hate that I wasn’t there for him.

  God, I shouldn’t feel this way… wanting him the way I do. This is fucked up, me being wet and needy. He helped me, didn’t try to make a move on me when I was so vulnerable. But here I am touching him… wanting him.

  I toss his sweaty shirt aside and suck in a breath. I carefully run my fingertips over the marks that look as if they were left by many beatings from a belt buckle or something really hard.

  My arousal instantly vanishes. I feel his pain as if it’s my own.

  He allows me to do this for a few seconds, his eyes closed tightly as I touch him. Then he reaches for my hand and stops it from roaming over what I know are painful reminders of his past. “It happened many years ago. None of it matters now. They’re both six feet under.” With a small growl, he grabs my hips and lays back, pulling me down with him and into the safety of his strong arms. “Go back to sleep, Wynter. You need to rest.”

  My heart beats wildly in my chest at the feeling of being surrounded by Sterling Locke. His hard, sweaty body—a weapon most people fear—is pressed against me, tucking my body into him as if to protect me from everything bad in the world.

  And just like that, my arousal raises its head like a vicious beast.

  The urge to touch him… to have him touch me overwhelms me, making it hard not to focus on his cock, which is hard as stone, pressed against my backside. He’s breathing so heavy, and those hot, humid pants hit my ear.