Satisfaction

by Lexi Blake

  He didn’t need Taggart’s sarcasm. “I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled the keys and shot out of the car as Drew held up a hand. He was standing beside Carly’s car with a bag in his other hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Drew cocked an eyebrow, the expression telling Bran he was unhappy with his tone. “I came to tell Carly that I’ve ensured her sister can’t ever be prosecuted for the embezzlement her ex-husband had her involved in. And I offered her a job.”

  Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that was exactly what he wanted for Carly, but in the moment, all he heard was Carly could walk away. Walk away from Cain Corp. Walk away from him. Drew was going to get exactly what he wanted. He would hire Carly and shove her somewhere far away from Austin.

  “What the hell right do you have to make that decision? Wait, I get it. You make all the decisions. Whatever the mighty fucking Drew wants, he gets. You want Carly gone, you’ll find a way to do it.” The pressure had been building for days and he felt it so purely now.

  “Hey, I don’t deserve that,” Drew replied with a frown. “I thought you wanted Carly out of this. I’m trying to give you what you want.”

  “Do you know how sick I am of your interference?” He couldn’t quite stop the words from coming out of his mouth. They seemed to flow with all the anger and vitriol that had been building up. “Stay away from her. I decide when and how she gets out of this. Do you understand me? She’s mine. I decide.”

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” Drew asked.

  “Puppy needs to bite someone,” Taggart said, though he sounded far more serious now. “I think he’s chosen you. I would treat him with extreme caution until you get him to calm down. He had a rough time with Cain. I had to leave him in there alone with her and it seems to have triggered an episode.”

  “Stay out of it,” Bran practically growled. There they were, the two big brothers minimizing him all over again. Bran was the weak one. He was the one who couldn’t do much so they gave him the easy jobs. Bran was so fragile.

  He could show them how solid he was. He didn’t stay on the floor anymore. He got up time and time again. Yeah, he didn’t stay down and let himself get kicked.

  “Hey, why don’t we go and get a drink somewhere?” Drew sounded altogether too calm. His tone had deepened to a soothing timbre.

  Like he would use on a dog that was growling at him.

  “Why don’t you head back to the condo and leave me and Carly alone. I can handle her. If I find out you’re trying to interfere with my relationship with her again, I swear I’ll walk away, Drew.”

  He turned and started up toward the townhouse. There was a row of them with Carly’s in the middle. He needed to calm down. Patricia Cain had made him feel vulnerable, small, like he was that dumbass teenager again and no one could save him. He made all the wrong moves. He wasn’t going to do the same this time.

  “You don’t want Carly to see you like this,” Drew said, coming up behind him. “Bran, we need to sit down and talk. You don’t understand how crazy you look right now.”

  That was his perfect brother. Drew was always in control. Drew never lost it and nearly bashed a dude’s head in. Drew had it easy. Need some cash? Drew could build a software program that made billions. Need advice? Drew always knew what to do. Everyone looked up to him.

  They pitied Bran. They always would.

  He banged through the door and stopped, taking a deep breath. Some of Drew’s words managed to filter in. Carly. Carly didn’t need to see him like this. Carly was sweet and lovely and she deserved to not have to deal with a rabid dog.

  He wasn’t sure he could control himself, so Drew was right. He should walk away. He should go and have a drink and try to bury this shit deep again. He could shove it down under a shit-ton of alcohol and tomorrow he would be a better man.

  His hands were shaking as he turned. Drew was behind him. Had Carly heard him come in?

  “Come on, let’s go sit and talk and Carly will have dinner ready by the time we come back,” Drew said reasonably.

  That was when he heard it. It was a low moan, as though someone was in pain.

  Taggart must have heard it, too, because the usually lazy-looking dude was suddenly stark and hawklike. He put a hand up as though to silence them.

  Bran wasn’t about to be silenced. If she was in trouble, he was going to help her. He took off for the kitchen, paying no mind to the sounds he heard behind him. They didn’t matter. It sounded like it had come from the kitchen. He strode through the door and the sight made him stop.

  Carly was pressed against the refrigerator. She was being held there by a man who had his hand wrapped around her throat. His back was to Bran and it was easy to see the asshole wasn’t very observant since he obviously hadn’t heard Bran come through the door.

  “The way I see it, whoever gave you that million the first time will pay up again. This time to me. So we’re going to head back to my place and when the asshole with the checkbook forks over another million, he can have you back. You’re going to walk out of here with me or I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

  Bran only understood one thing—the red mist that swamped his vision. He didn’t think, didn’t stop and reason his way through the problem. Carly’s safety didn’t even really reach his brain. All that mattered was killing the bastard who would hurt her. Who’d hurt him. In that moment it was difficult to differentiate the then and the now.

  He was sixteen again, hiding in that dilapidated house, and the monster had found them. The monster had tracked them even as they ran. He’d shown up and wrapped his hand around Bran’s throat and hauled him up.

  No. He wasn’t taking that again. Never again.

  The red tinge seemed to coat everything, but Bran was far past thinking. He reached out and grabbed the man, whirling him around. He didn’t see his face. Rather he saw another face. So clear. It was clear to him that this time he couldn’t let anything stop him. This time he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t listen to anyone.

  He wasn’t sure how many times he’d hit the man. Every thud of his fist against the man’s flesh was satisfying. The sight of blood welling, the sound of his strangled moan as Bran almost certainly broke his nose brought him peace. Though he continued, it was like the world slowed down and he understood it. This was a place where he was comfortable, where the rage poured out of him and he could breathe.

  It made him never want to stop. Never. Not until the monster was dead and gone.

  He would protect them all. He would save Mia and Mandy. He would make sure no one could hurt them again.

  In his rage-addled brain, all things coalesced into one long nightmare, the shifting parts drifting over him. He could feel the heat of the fire and know his parents were burning. He could feel Mia’s arms around him, begging him not to leave her. He could see Mandy’s eyes, once so lovely, now vacant and dull.

  He felt something warm splash on his face and somewhere in the background he heard a soft voice.

  “Bran. Bran, please.”

  He turned, his fist raised and then he was flat on his back, his brother standing over him.

  “Stop it now,” Drew shouted, placing himself in front of Carly.

  Taggart was busy examining the guy on the floor. “Told you puppy needed a leash. Luckily, this one’s going to live. Should I call the cops?”

  “Let me figure out what the hell is happening,” Drew replied.

  “You got time,” Taggart assured him. “He won’t be conscious for a while. This the mob guy?”

  Bran stared up, his vision clearing and the world refocusing. What had happened? He’d known what he was doing while he was doing it, but now it seemed so far away. He’d walked in and found someone hurting Carly. He’d beaten the man and hadn’t wanted to stop.

  God, he’d almost hit her. She’d tried to stop him an
d he’d turned on her.

  “Carly?”

  Her face was white as a sheet, tears running down her face and making a mess of her mascara. “I’m fine. I’m good. I have to . . . I’ll be back.”

  She disappeared out the kitchen door and he had to wonder if he had lost her forever.

  —

  Carly took a deep breath. What the hell had happened? Her blood pressure was sky-high and her hands were shaking like crazy as she buttoned up her shirt. She’d changed because she’d gotten blood on the first one. Not hers. Or Bran’s. The other guy’s. It had flown around while Bran was busy beating on the man.

  She wasn’t sure what had frightened her more—the mob guy or the look in Bran’s eyes as he’d raised a fist her way.

  He hadn’t seen her. He couldn’t have. There had been a wild look in his eyes that told her he’d been far away from her in that moment.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door and then a deep voice.

  “Are you all right, Carly?”

  She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him, but at least he sounded like Bran again. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

  “You’ve been in there for an hour. Are you sure you’re all right? Should I call an ambulance?”

  Had she been in here for that long? She’d closed the door and sat for a moment before deciding to clean up. She’d gone to her private bathroom, run water, and washed her face before changing clothes. And apparently time had passed quickly. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked pale but at least the mascara was gone.

  She opened the door.

  Bran looked like Bran, but she could still see him punching that man over and over. She’d begged him, pleaded with him to stop.

  “Did he hurt you?” Bran didn’t move closer to her.

  She could still feel her attacker’s hand around her neck, squeezing lightly as he’d told her how it was going to go. He would get his money or he would kill her. She’d been an easy mark. He wasn’t about to let that go. “Nothing that won’t heal.”

  Bran nodded and couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I would feel better if you had someone look you over. I could take you to the ER.”

  She started toward the stairs, Bran hard on her heels.

  “It’s not necessary and I get the feeling you haven’t called the police. They would ask questions in the ER that might bring the police in. Can I ask why you chose not to call?” She walked into the living room. They seemed to be alone. The house was so quiet, almost eerily so.

  “Taggart is going to take care of the situation. Apparently our guy woke up and admitted DiLuca hadn’t sent him. He thought you were an easy target. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t anymore.”

  Yes, she would be shocked if that asshole ever thought about walking into her place again. “I still think we should call the cops.”

  Bran frowned. “And explain that we already paid the mob a million dollars? I assure you that will likely come out.”

  They would also have to explain the extreme state of their intruder. While it was a clear case of defense of her person, the cops might still have questions. And reporters might get hold of the story, splashing Bran’s name and face across the Internet.

  Drew was busy protecting his brother and himself.

  The Lawless clan would always protect their secrets. For the first time since Bran had sat down across from her at that restaurant, she realized how deep those secrets truly went. She’d understood it in intellectual terms, but these were people who’d changed their names, hid their alliances, stuck to the shadows.

  “How can we be sure he won’t be back?” Maybe she should move. Bran wouldn’t always be here to go all Hulk-smash on the guy. If word had gotten around that she was an easy mark, why couldn’t another visitor come by looking for a quick payday?

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Bran said quietly. “I’m fairly certain Taggart is explaining the situation to Mr. DiLuca even as we speak. You won’t see the man again or any of his brethren.”

  “Why? I would think he would simply wait until I was alone again.”

  “Sweetheart, DiLuca will make an example for the others to follow. The way I understand there’s honor among mobsters. He wasn’t coming after you for more than the debt. That guy went rogue and now he’s being taken care of.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that meant. “I thought Roger had done something wrong again.”

  “I don’t think so. I think he knew someone would always pay a lot of money to make sure you were safe.” Bran walked over to the small bar she kept and poured out a measure of brandy.

  She rarely drank anything more than wine and the occasional vodka tonic, but she had a small selection of liquor. One she’d featured as one of Patricia’s entertaining tips. He turned and held out the glass. He’d used a highball glass, but she thought it wasn’t the right time to explain proper barware usage.

  She took the glass and a healthy swig as she realized what he was really saying. “You think DiLuca will have him killed.”

  Bran poured himself a nice dose of her Scotch. “I think that his employer will deal with the situation and then we don’t have to involve the cops. We’re supposed to leave for California in a few days. Do you want that derailed because we’re dealing with the police? Calling them in would open a whole lot of inquiries we don’t want to have to answer. You would have to deal with your ex-husband again.”

  “No, I would have to deal with the police. They would have to deal with Roger.” For some reason the idea of covering it all up didn’t sit well with her. She understood what he was saying, but it seemed like one more way they were protecting themselves and not her.

  “It would be a mess, Carly, and we’ve got a lot to deal with soon.” He sounded so calm and reasonable now.

  Her hands were still shaking. “Don’t you think this is more important?”

  He sighed and leaned against the couch, looking so much like the stunning man she’d gone to bed with this morning. “No. I think this was inconsequential. It’s over. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  They were tiptoeing around the subject, skirting it like the coward she was. She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask the question.

  He set his drink down and moved toward her. Before she had a chance to step back, she found herself wrapped up in his arms.

  “I know you were scared. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It won’t happen again because that man will never come close again. I promise.”

  She didn’t push him away. It felt too good. The whole time she’d been alone with that man all she’d wanted was Bran’s arms around her. She’d silently screamed for him to find her, save her.

  She didn’t really know who he was. How could she tell him that she’d been far more frightened by the man he’d become in those moments than she’d been of the one who attacked her?

  She had to ask him about it. She had to. She couldn’t let that go.

  “Do you want me to call in some dinner? I think Taggart and Drew are planning on coming back to update us. We should have something for them to eat. We can sit down and have dinner and maybe that will make you feel more normal.”

  “I’m not hungry, Bran.”

  He kissed the top of her forehead, his lips brushing her there, and despite the fact that she’d nearly watched him kill a man, her body responded.

  That was what finally made her push him away.

  “We have to talk about it.” She strode back to the bar and poured herself another drink.

  “No, we don’t. It’s over. There’s nothing to talk about. You’re safe now.”

  Was she? “I begged you to stop.”

  He sighed, an impatient sound. “That man tried to hurt you. I’m not going to apologize for hurting him back.”

  “I begged you to stop
, Bran. I cried and begged and you wouldn’t.”

  “Are you seriously angry at me for beating up the asshole who wanted to kidnap you and trade you for cash?”

  She took a deep breath. The truth was she was half in love with this man and maybe she was lying to herself about that percentage. She cared about him. She needed to get to the heart of what was happening with him. “Bran, you scared me.”

  His face softened marginally. “I’m sorry. You haven’t been around a lot of violence. I’m sure it did scare you.”

  “Bran, you scared me.”

  Bran’s hands came up, his frustration apparent. “Fine, next time someone tries to attack you I’ll make sure to disable him with puppies or rainbows or something.”

  “Don’t make light of this. I’m trying to figure out what happened.” Why couldn’t he understand?

  “You got attacked,” he shot back. “I dealt with it. That’s what happened, Carly. Don’t try to psychoanalyze it or make it into more than it needs to be. I got pissed off that some asshole was trying to hurt my woman.”

  “You almost hit me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s overreacting?”

  She would never be able to forget that moment. “I’m not. You did. I don’t know how much you remember, but at the end when I tried to get you off him, you turned and almost hit me. Drew got in the way.”

  His jaw went tight, his face mulish. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “You might if you thought I was someone else. Bran, where were you?”

  “I was here, trying to protect you.”

  “I know that, but you took it too far and I think it’s because of something that happened to you.” She’d seen PTSD before. She’d grown up with a girl whose father had been in the Gulf War, and even decades later the man would jump every time a car backfired. His wife had left him and after a while CPS had taken her friend away because her father couldn’t stay sober. When he was drunk he talked about what he’d seen, sometimes like he was living it in the moment.

  He’d killed himself shortly after losing his daughter. She could still remember standing outside with Meri while everyone shook their heads and claimed they’d always known it would happen.