The Hot Gamer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #3)

by Alexa Davis

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked without looking up.

  "Go back to the SEAL team and figure out what I missed," I shrugged.

  "What?" she said looking up shocked. "You can't do that!"

  "The hell I can't," I said shoving more food into my mouth and staring straight at her.

  "But you were seriously injured," she replied staring at me. "Are they going to let you go back?"

  "Lady, there are tons of us who have been hurt far worse and gone back to serve," I said as I kept chewing. "My injuries are minor compared to what some have suffered."

  "You seem so blasé about it," she said frowning.

  "Nope, just practical," I shrugged looking out over the balcony onto 13th Street. "I mean, it's not like there's anything keeping me here now, is there?"

  "What about TriCorp?" she asked. "Aren't you going to try and keep it going while they look for a new CEO?"

  "Huh?" I said genuinely surprised by what she was saying.

  "I would have thought they'd have come and told you that they arrested Julian this morning," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

  "Arrested Julian?" I said.

  "Eva gave him up as the one who'd masterminded the kidnapping and the attempt to steal the hard drive," she said. "Her lawyer got the State to take the death penalty off the table for Butch Wilson's death if she'd turn over Julian."

  "Jesus, all of these secrets," I said shaking my head.

  "Secrets are what kill us," she replied as she took a big swig of her beer.

  "Who the hell are you to judge people for keeping secrets?" I demanded to know. "You're the one hiding the secret boyfriend!"

  "Boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about?" she said looking completely confused.

  "Don't play act with me, Echo!" I yelled as I shot up out of my chair and began pacing the balcony. "You and Mando are an item and you've been using me for — I don't know what!"

  "What? Me and Mando?" she said with a look of genuine surprise. "We're not a couple! God, he's like my brother!"

  "But he said..." I began.

  "What did he say?" she demanded. "Tell me, and I'll skin him alive! What did he say?"

  "He said..." I began again and then stopped.

  "Yeah, I'm sure he did," she said as she rolled her eyes. "He's way too overprotective of me and Cece, and we both feel smothered by him sometimes. I'm sure he was trying to put the fear of God into you so that you wouldn't take advantage of my innocence or something."

  "But you kissed him and told him I'm totally safe," I said trying to recall everything that had gone on.

  "I was teasing him about his protectiveness," she said. "But that was it."

  "Crap," I said as I ran a hand through my hair and then I remembered, "But he said watch out for our girl."

  "He says that to every guy one of us dates," she chuckled as she shook her head. "It's like some kind of big brother insurance policy against bad things."

  "And it works well..." I said trailing off. "So the night on the couch and the day you came to see me after I got shot and then the other day when I was back in the hospital..."

  "Yeah, I wondered why you kept pushing me away," she said as she stood up and moved toward me. She lowered her voice as she reached out and ran a finger down my arm, "Because quite frankly, you've been driving me crazy since you arrived, Mr. Navy Seal."

  The next thing I knew, she reached up and wound her arms around my neck pulling me down so she could kiss me hard and deep.

  "Oh God," I groaned as I wrapped my arms around her and pressed her body against mine, then winced as I felt the tug on my stitches.

  "Oh no! I'm sorry!" she said as she pulled away.

  "No, no," I shook my head. "We just have to go slow, take it easy."

  "I can do that," she grinned as she took my hand and led me into the apartment and up the stairs where she proceeded to gently pull off my shirt and shorts before shedding her own.

  "Uh, that's was quick," I said.

  "Do you have any idea how long I've been wanting to do that?" she asked as she pulled me down on the bed and carefully pushed me back against the pillows. I could feel her hands lightly roaming my body and felt the results of her ministrations immediately.

  "No idea," I said as she straddled my hips and leaned forward to kiss me.

  "A long time," she whispered into my lips as she kissed me again and ran her fingers though my hair. I groaned as she pinned the arm on my injured side to the bed with her knee and reached up with the other hand to stroke her cheek before slipping my fingers into her long thick hair and holding her head so I could kiss her more deeply.

  I felt her moving lower as we kissed until she stopped and quickly grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer, laughing as she did it.

  "Safety first, Seal," she whispered as she kissed me and then moved aside so she could roll it onto my rock hard erection. Before I knew it, she had swung her leg over my hips and was guiding me to her opening as she moaned softly pressing down and then rising up teasing both of us before she sank down and took me in one swift stroke. She smiled at me as she said, "Take it easy, and let me do the work."

  "Oh God," I groaned as I felt her heat around me.

  "Mmm hmmm," she leaned forward and kissed me as she began moving her hips in a slow rocking motion. The movement nearly drove me over the edge until she slowed a bit and kissed me harder. She speeded up and slowed down over and over until both of us were groaning with the need for release. Then she pushed herself up and braced her hands on the wall above my head as she began rocking hard and fast. I could feel her muscles tensing and releasing as she drove us both closer and closer to the edge.

  I knew I shouldn't do it, but I couldn't stop myself. I planted my feet and thrust up hard and deep and felt it set off her orgasm as she moaned. The pulsing of her muscles set off my own release as I groaned and thrust up into her one more time holding it there as I exploded inside of her.

  In the few minutes it took for us to catch our breath, Echo laid across my chest with her face buried in my shoulder. I could feel the wound in my side stretching and while I hoped that I hadn't opened it yet again, I knew that if I had, it would have been completely worth it.

  "My hand," I whispered into her hair a few minutes later. "Can't feel it."

  "Oh God, I'm sorry!" she cried as she quickly moved her knee and slid off of me to the side. She sat up and looked at my injured side, gasped and grabbed a towel from a drawer under the bed. "You're bleeding, but not too badly. Does it hurt?"

  "I can't feel anything," I said.

  "Oh shit! Do I need to call an ambulance?" she asked as the worry turned to fear.

  "No, it's a good thing," I said. "I can't feel anything but my incredibly happy friend down there."

  "You jerk," she said swatting me lightly with a pillow. "You had me worried!"

  "I'm fine, seriously," I said as I lifted the towel and showed her that there was no blood only a little bit of clear fluid leaking out of the incision site. "I'm good. No, better than good. I'm great."

  "I'm great, too," she smiled as she laid her hand on my cheek and then lay down beside me in the space I made with my good arm. "This is the best ever."

  "Indeed it is," I smiled as I turned and kissed the top of her head.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Epilogue

  "Hey, hey, hey! No running in the house!" I yelled as I heard the sound of pounding feet run through the kitchen toward the back door.

  "We're not running!" came the protesting voices in unison. "We're marching, Mom!"

  "Okay, well, running or marching, I want some peace and quiet in this house!" I called back trying to swallow my laughter. "Because if you wake your sister, you're going to be responsible for her. Do you hear me?"

  "Aye aye, ma'am!" came the reply from two small voices.

  "They are your sons," I smiled as I looked up over where Ryan sat at the table reviewing paperwork that had been delivered that morning.r />
  "Well, I can't say I'm sorry to hear that, Dr. Powell," he grinned. "What's for dinner?"

  "I don't know, what did you pick up at the grocery store on your way home?" I asked sweetly.

  "I was supposed to pick something up?" he looked up at me genuinely confused.

  "I've been in the lab coding SAI 02 for three straight days," I sighed. "You knew you were responsible for dinner!"

  "I suddenly miss those days when we lived next door to Nemo's and I could just call your boyfriend and order dinner," he said with a wistful grin.

  "You are a pill," I laughed as I moved around the island and leaned down to hug him as he sat scanning papers. "What's that?"

  "Same thing as usual, just going over the TriCorp books making sure that you're not squirreling away money so you can dump me and move to your own private island," he said turning to kiss my cheek.

  "Yes, because that's what I'd definitely want to do if I squirreled away a lot of money," I said returning his kiss. "But if possible, could you direct a little more money toward the SAI 03 project? The lab team needs some supplies and I can't get the supply manager to release them."

  "Cece does a great job of keeping that place in running order, doesn't she?" he grinned. "Give her the paperwork and I'll see if I can't prod her to get what you need a little quicker."

  "You're a good husband," I said as I picked up my phone and tapped the screen. A few minutes later, I said, "Okay, you're off the hook. Dinner's on it's way and should be here in an hour. You do, however, need to get your sons in here to wash up and set the table for six of us. Meanwhile, I will go wake my daughter and get her cleaned and fed so that she can entertain the crowd."

  "Who's coming to dinner?" he asked as he stood up and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest.

  "Who do you think?" I said as I rested my cheek against his chest and breathed in his musky scent. "The supply manager and my old boyfriend, they're bringing food from Nemo's."

  "I miss those old days, but I am eternally grateful that you agreed to create a whole lifetime of new days with me, Echo," Ryan said as he held me close.

  "I am, too, Ryan," I said as I tipped my head up and stood on my toes to kiss him. "I am, too."

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  BILLIONAIRE’S TRAGEDY

  By Alexa Davis and Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis

  CHAPTER ONE

  Linc

  "Callie, Mr. Russo is lying and he knows he is lying," I said calmly as I sat back in my chair and watched the man sitting across from me begin to fume. I could feel the studio lights beating down on me as beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, but I wasn't about to back down and let Russo have the advantage.

  "Mr. Russo, how do you respond to that?" the blonde news anchor asked as she turned away from me. We'd been invited on the show to debate the need for improved weapons safety reforms after yet another act of violence in a public place. Davis Russo was the president of American Weapons Network, and I owned the company that was on the verge of releasing technology that would make guns exponentially safer. My invention of grip specific technology was not only revolutionary, but also a threat to weapons industry profits because it would make it nearly impossible for gun owners to sell weapons under the table and private sales were where all the money lay.

  "Callie, I believe Mr. Redding is mistaken when he accuses me of lying," the man said as his beady eyes darted back and forth, making him look like anything but honest. I loathed Russo for his Wild West approach to gun ownership — no one was safe unless everyone owned one. "My research shows that far fewer people are injured in gun related accidents than Mr. Redding's leftist media figures indicate. I believe that the vast majority of gun owners are responsible people who are simply seeking to protect themselves and their families against violence perpetrated by those who fail to follow the law. We need guns because criminals, by definition, do not abide by the law. Like I've always said, if we outlaw guns, then only outlaws will have guns."

  "I don't think that's what Mr. Redding is saying, Mr. Russo," Callie Mitchell interjected. I wanted to hold my hand up and tell her to stop. I'd been down this road with Russo many times over the past fifteen years and never once had I seen him so much as blink when asked to listen to a rational argument in favor of gun control.

  "Callie, Mr. Russo knows precisely what I'm saying since we do this same song and dance every few months," I replied as I leaned forward and focused my gaze on the newswoman leading the discussion. "The reality is that we don't actually have any reliable figures related to gun violence in this country since the enactment of the Dickey Amendment has meant that the CDC has not been allowed to research or even gather information related to gun violence in this country for almost two decades."

  "Mr. Russo?" she asked.

  "Mr. Redding and I do go round and round on this, but I think that Mr. Redding's position is much more personal than mine, Callie," he said as a thin smile slowly snaked across his face. "I think Mr. Redding's financial connection to the outcome of this legislation has made him a somewhat unreliable participant in these debates. I, on the other hand, have little or no financial investment in the issue. I am simply a staunch supporter of the Second Amendment and believe that all citizens have the right to own and carry firearms. My position is simply to protect those rights."

  I wanted to wipe the smarmy grin off of Russo's face once and for all. I hated the man not only because he was a loathsome individual, but also because I believed he was personally responsible for the death of my parents and six other people.

  His hateful rhetoric, developed when he'd been clawing his way up the ladder at the AWN, had inspired a fanatical following, and one of his true believers, a man with a history of violence, had walked into a pawn shop in Baltimore and walked out with a gun that same evening. He then followed my parents to the restaurant where they were celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary and shot them point blank as they'd left. The man, Warren Abraham, had slipped away unnoticed and shot six more people at random before the police caught up with him. He had a list of the victims in his coat pocket and had not resisted arrest; instead, he'd repeated over and over again that he'd been, "ordered by God to rid the earth of those who opposed his right to protect himself.” In a hearing later that month, he had been deemed too mentally impaired to stand trial. He was now locked up in a hospital on the outskirts of Baltimore where, every year, he was examined to see if he'd become competent enough to be released. However, he asserted that he'd only been following orders issued by his pastor who preached the right of all citizens to protect themselves from a tyrannical government. His preacher had been the Reverend Russo.

  My mother's best friend Maureen Warren, or Mo as I called her, had made sure that I'd been keep entirely out of the spotlight during the media circus to the point that no one, aside from close family and friends, recognized me as the son of the two murdered people. She’d used her wealth and influence to shield me for most of my life.

  I'd been allowed to grow up outside of the shadow of the killing, but it had affected every aspect of my life. Davis Russo was not one of the people who'd been privy to information about my life, but he often threatened to reveal things I'd rather he didn't. He did this with everyone who threatened his power, so while I didn’t take it personally, I was always poised to respond to his attacks.

  "Callie, I believe Mr. Russo is confusing his own culpability with his desire to project his guilt onto me," I said, smiling warmly at the woman before turning and starin
g at Russo straight in the eyes. "It is true that my financial motivation is substantial, but I don't view profit as a negative consequence of pushing for gun safety laws. I'm not preaching fear and exclusion; I'm focusing my energies on something productive: legislation that will protect thousands of Americans each year."

  I watched Russo begin to boil. I always enjoyed this part of the debate where I got to talk about the good I was doing to try and keep people safe and Russo was rendered impotent because to counter my points would mark him as the problem. I knew it and I loved it.

  "My company, GRIPTech, has worked hard to design a line of touch sensitive technological innovations called GripPlus that can be attached to any gun and render it operable by only the persons programmed to use it," I said, leaning back comfortably. I enjoyed talking about this because there was no way for Russo to say anything negative about it without sounding like he actually wanted people to be able to shoot one another. "We've found that the majority of domestic accidents connected to guns could have been prevented if only the rightful owner of the gun were able to operate it. This technology would make it impossible for children to shoot each other if weapons are carelessly left where they can be accessed."

  "What about crimes, Mr. Redding?" Callie asked. I could see she was fighting to hold back a triumphant grin. Most news reporters in D.C. despised Davis Russo just as much as I did. He was a rude and condescending man who lorded his power over everyone and severely punished those who didn't bow down.

  "I'm glad you asked, Callie," I said as I turned and faced the camera. This was the point at which I got to tell the viewing public what was really at stake. "Grip technology would render stolen weapons impossible to use, and since approximately twenty percent of all firearms used to commit crimes pass through a chain of unregulated private transfers and sixty percent of weapons are simply stolen, we feel that implementing grip technology would result in a drastic lowering of crime over the long term."