And, well, I’m also curious to see if the three idiots known as Blaze, Lex and King will succumb to love as easily as Jericho and Storm have. I’m surprised by the ease with which they were taken down, especially considering the hard type of men that they are.
Jericho, for all his teasing and playfulness, had a bad life. I know all this. And Storm didn’t have the easiest time after he left the Army. I myself know what it is to be faced with love, but unlike these men, I was too cowardly to risk myself on that fragile emotion.
Ah well, regrets. I guess we all have them, especially men like me who are blackened to the core with death and killing.
“Lenny, my sweet little Lenny, tell me about that baby that’s got you up at one in the morning eating syrup from a spoon.”
“Dude, seriously, that is just freaky. And why are you out there watching my dark house instead of sleeping? Don’t angels sleep?” She laughs, licking her spoon with disgusting delight.
“You still think me an angel? I’m grateful, but if you must think of me at all, little Lenny, I suppose it would be fitting to think of me as fallen.”
“Aw shucks, don’t be all down on yourself, honey, even the best of us aren’t all good. Just look at Cleo. I’d have sworn that sweet little thing didn’t have a violent bone in her body, and she punched the reverend right in the kisser when he called her a slut marrying a scumbag.”
I chuckle at that, remembering the look on Jericho’s face when she knocked that sniveling preacher right on his ass and proceeded to tell him a few more truths that made poor Jericho cringe even as he grinned at her.
Ah, the man is proud of his woman, and well, he should be. Seeing her go from a shy, frightened little bird to an eagle with claws is a magnificent thing.
If I weren’t half in love with Lenny—well, I adore her in so many ways, none of them romantic—then I suppose Cleo would be a great candidate. She’s kind yet fierce, meek in her own way, and yet so unique that she has no need to be anything other than what she is to command attention.
That is partly why I saved her, not just for Jericho. I admire Cleo’s will to not change while becoming a better version of herself. I love her sweetness and adore that fire that sparks in her whenever someone insults her man.
Any man who gets to be with her is blessed beyond measure, so I well understand Jericho’s acknowledgement and the promise he proffered even knowing that he could be selling his soul to the devil. For a second chance at a love like theirs, I myself would sell my soul.
I would for the one I left behind. But alas, how does one bargain with the devil when you no longer have a soul to bargain with?
Mine is long gone, and all that’s left is this horror inside me.
“She was magnificent, I will agree, but her night in jail was not her crowning glory.”
“Hah! Says you. Cleo is more than satisfied and is very happy with her rep, I promise you. Every time King teases her, she reminds him that she’s done time and isn’t afraid to do more.”
I’m still laughing at that as I end the call and bring up the image I crave and yet hate to look at. She’s sleeping peacefully, as only she knows how to do, despite her guilt.
If only I could do the same.
I keep watching though…always watching.
FLIRTING WITH FIRE
Chapter One
Evaline
The thing about starting your own business is that it’s a shitty job with long hours and less pay than people would assume. I mean, yeah sure, when I got out of college and had to start working for some idiot designer whose idea of beauty was running a sweatshop made up of interns…
Let’s just say I learned real quick that life has a way of ripping off the Band-Aid and showing you what people are really made of. That ordeal—and yes, I say ordeal because it was pure torture working with the man after I gave my notice—made me think that setting out alone was preferable to being a grunt, a low-class workhorse.
When Kimber and I left Raul and opened Speak Geek to Me—our little fashion line that started exclusively online and only recently took off—I guess we were a little starry eyed about how it would work.
Me, I was convinced that it would be an instant success, and you can blame my mama for that one. Optimism was my go-to while growing up for the first four years of my life in that hovel before I was taken away. I was, and still am, convinced that life is a peach if you take the right bite.
Don’t blame me. Look, I was born to alcoholic, druggy shitheads, who let the state take me away because I was a burden. I then lived thirteen years of my life in a good home, where I was very aware that I was wanted but not really theirs.
It wasn’t bad, traumatic, or scarring; what really fucked me up was when I graduated school a year early and got my ass booted out of their home, seeing as I was now fully sufficient and capable of caring for myself.
I guess I should have just been grateful they hadn’t kept me just for the check the state sent every month. I mean, if that was the case, they’d have kept me the whole next year and cashed in, right?
Whatever. The short of it is that I was on my own and going off to college on a half scholarship with no way to feed myself or stay there unless I worked my ass off.
Enter Jericho, the brother I very, very vaguely remember, and my life was officially Twilight Zone weird. Seems the poor guy never forgot me and waited till I was free of a family who was good to me before stepping in when things got bad.
I will always be grateful to him for coming back for me and never forgetting me. Most of all, I am so honored that he loved me enough to want me back when he realized that my happy family wasn’t so into being my happy family anymore.
He paid for the other half of college and became my guardian angel in a way. We’re a family—one that is a little dysfunctional and maybe a lot weird, seeing as we hardly see each other—but that’s okay; I get it.
He lived a lot of years not knowing what happened to me, and then got me back but had no clue what to do with me. We’re strangers in a way. No one knows about me, and besides the monthly calls we make, no one knows about him.
That sounds cold, but you have to understand; I don’t know how to be his sister fully, and he doesn’t know how to be a brother with all the bells and whistles of emotional commitment.
I was an afterthought after he got together with his girl, Cleo. To hear him tell it, he only just remembered to call and invite me to the little wedding two days before it happened.
I didn’t take offense as you’d think I would. I didn’t think to invite him to graduation and almost shit myself when I looked up and he was there, applauding my achievement.
We have a weird relationship, okay? We’re bonded in the fact that our biologicals were assholes and we share DNA with those crud scrapers. We love each other in a dysfunctional “Oh! I almost forgot you!” kind of way.
He’s gruff and emotionless but goes completely overboard when it comes to my safety and the whole guy thing. For this reason, I’ve had a grand total of two boyfriends and only got to bang the last one because I seduced him before Jericho retired and could threaten to gut him.
It happened though. The man almost tripped on his own two feet running from me. Hurt? I was pissed. But I’m an optimist. I look on the bright side, find the silver lining, and always fill that half-full glass to the brim if I can.
That’s just me.
So, you can imagine what a shock it was to discover that opening a business was not silver lined, half full or rosy in any way. To be frank, it sucked, but after borrowing start-up capital from my brother and being determined to pay it back, I worked my ass off alongside Kimber and kept going until it took off.
As I said, this only happened just recently, in the last eight months. Which is why I am infuriated with Kimber about her attitude. Some big asshole company wants to buy my baby, our baby, and turn it into the corporate, classless, discount-brand line they push to Walmart and cheap retail outlets.
I don�
�t mind the pricing. I insisted the clothes be affordable since I still remember struggling to find what I considered necessity fashion items on the crap allowance I got.
But Kimber wants to sell out, and instead of just understanding why I refuse and selling her half to me, she’s been dogging my ass for weeks. Today was the last straw, and I finally got her to understand that it wasn’t happening.
After my tear-jerking explanation of my wanting to build something I could be proud of so that Jericho would be proud of me, she caved—just as I knew she would.
Thank you, Jesus, because I’m pooped.
Thirteen-hour days have drained me, but at least I’m home free on the sale and finally making enough money to live in a place bigger than a shoe box, my roommates being mice and a few roaches I named once upon a time.
“Hey, Evie! You remember to drop off the rent this morning, darling?” Merle yells from her window, just as I start for the door to my building, her bright orange dye job blinking at me through the dark.
“Uh-huh. Thanks for reminding me, Merle girl! Hey, Gene still looking for a job? I have a receptionist position open now that I can afford to pay for one.”
Merle and her daughter Gene have been my people since I moved here two months ago. She reminds me to pay rent on time so that sleaze ball landlord doesn’t have a reason to ride my ass—literally, if he got his way—and I keep the old bird and her teenage drop-out daughter in some free clothes and cheap wine every Friday.
“If you’re willing to have her sassy ass filling your phone with chatter all day, be my guest. I’ll tell her to stop by when she finally gets home—if she gets home. Thanks, Evie.”
“Welcome!” I yell before passing by and running into the door, leaving the oppressive heat behind as the elevator closes and hoists me to the second floor.
I’m getting in just after ten, and it sucks since I hate coming home in the dark. But, since Kimber finally got the drift and took me out to celebrate our continued partnership, it was unavoidable. As were the four margaritas I consumed and the ton of weight that will no doubt go to my hips.
Not that it matters since everything I wear is a geeky assortment of boho buttoned up that is unique to our brand. I could be a hippo and still look good. I am that good at what I do. Yay me.
“Evie! Wait up.”
I groan as the elevator closes behind me and turn to see Manny Hogs running at me, his chubby red face and swaying belly making my eyes twitch because of all things he’s chosen to pair with his shocking red hair—it just had to be a green-gold shirt that highlights his belly button and the face that he doesn’t manscape worth shit.
“Manny.”
“Hey, listen, there was some guy calling your phone all day. It got so I just used that extra key you gave Merle for emergencies and went in to answer.”
“He say what he wants?” I ask, ready to drop on my feet, fighting irritation that he’d go into my apartment, and feeling like crap because the guy is a middle-aged mama’s boy with a heart of gold.
He’s not creepy, pervy, or even slightly into me in that way, and he’s taken it upon himself to be my protector since he sees all the women in the building as his family.
I adore him, but I really am not in the mood for another hour-long telling of what he’s been up to today.
“Nah, just asked for you. I told him to call back when you got home at eight, and he said he would.”
I blame Jericho for the instant paranoia and irritation I suffer here, because the first thing I think is that I want to throttle Manny. I can call my brother a lot of things, but the man is no fool.
He’s taught me a lot. I know how to take down a man twice my size since Jericho drilled me with self-defense before he’d let me move into a place by myself—yeah, like he really had a say—and he’s all into scenarios.
For instance: Vary your schedule. Don’t give out any info that could put you in danger, such as when you get home! And never, ever let anyone know that you live alone.
I can damn guarantee Manny got into a convo with the phone guy and let a lot of that shit drop. I should beat his ass for that and rescind my key privileges, but I don’t have the energy to spend my Friday night kicking his butt.
I need wine, a bath, and sleep.
After I shake him loose and get in the door.
“Uh, okay thanks, Manny. I’ll see you around. I gotta pee.” I laugh, hopping from foot to foot as my cheeks blush in shame for lying.
His cheeks go a darker shade of cherub, and I giggle as he salutes me and hustles away, his big butt cheeks fighting each other in the orange and green golf pants his mother seems to favor for him.
Just as I’m about to unlock my door, my phone blasts and I answer with a sigh when the Star Wars theme spells my doom.
“Hey, Jerry baby, been a long day, what’s up.”
“You’re just getting in? Dammit, Evie, I told you before that coming home so late to a dark apartment is dangerous,” he snarls by way of greeting, making me chuckle as I unlock and fall against the closed door, the pitch dark of the place swallowing me up in a comforting embrace.
“Oh, big brother, I’m just fine so hold your water already. I went out for a drink with Kimber after a long day. Transferred the loan payment today too, so you should see it—”
“Fuck the payment. I told you to keep the goddamn money, Evie. I don’t want it.”
That’s the thing about Jericho: he’s a sweetheart while busting my ass. Gotta love that the guy cares and all, but at this rate, no amount of sweetness will make up for the fact that he expects me to live like a nun and a frightened little mouse, seeing danger, rapists, and muggers around every corner.
“I know. But I insist, since you basically put me through college and helped me start Geek. I want her to be my baby, not something I got for free because my long lost big brother feels like he has to make up for the fact that the biologicals were ass ballers. Now, on to much lighter business.” I chuckle, feeling my way to the kitchen for the fridge and the wine that will only exacerbate tomorrow morning’s headache. “How’s Cleo?”
“Perfect,” he says and sighs, making me giggle.
Jericho loves his wife more than the air he breathes. He told me after I arrived to his wedding late and looking like a bag lady that she’s the most meaningful thing that ever happened to him, and after meeting the sweet, yet feisty little librarian, I totally agree. She’s a peach. For her, I’d give up dreams of one day getting a dick of my own and going full rugger on the world. That woman is fine.
“Yeah. But is she still convinced she loves your grumpy ass?” I ask, closing the fridge and letting the ambient glow settle back into pitch blackness before inching my way toward the bathroom.
“Always. And I’m not grumpy.”
“Huh? You’re a dick to me.”
“You call me Jerry.”
“Aw shucks, I thought you didn’t notice.” I laugh, enjoying his teasing growl. “Now stop growling and fill me in on all things Cleo. You know I have a mondo crush on that woman.”
The tub fills quickly as I listen to him rhapsodize about Cleo and her every accomplishment, and I’m just about ready to boil by the time he turns back to his original purpose for that late-night gabfest.
“Listen, Evie, I gotta tell ya, I hate that you’re all alone in that little box you call an apartment. Cleo just got to know you and, well, I’ve started thinking more and more about family and what it means to me since she roped my ass. Have you given any thought to moving down here like I asked you last time?”
Crap. I was so hoping to avoid this conversation. My big brother’s gone all soft on me lately and wants me close to him and his family, something I thought would happen only after that snowball flew through hell and stayed in one piece.
Don’t get me wrong, I love that he wants to actually build a relationship with me, but I’ve weighed the pros and cons, and let me tell you, living in a small town where the only action I’d get would be from a toy that one
of Cleo and Lenny’s friends sent me—since Jericho would see me old and dry vagina’d with his scare tactics against possible hookups—is definitely the only con I need to kill the pros list.
I love the guy, but having no life outside Geek and the online stuff I do would drive me nuts. I’m no party girl—well, not according to Jericho at least, God willing he keeps believing that tripe—but I need more than him glaring potential guys away and strapping me into that chastity belt for life.
“I have, and I told you no—at least not yet.”
Never! I like my life, and honestly, I do not see shadows around every corner the way Jericho does. I’m perfectly safe right here with my life and friends.
Letting the plug out, I sigh through the silence and wince at his harsh breaths.
“Just think about it more.”
“Sure. I promise. As long as you promise to accept the repayments. Please? It means a lot to me to know that I’m making them, and yes, Jericho, I will call if I need you,” I interject, juggling the phone as I wrap a towel around myself.
“Hang on.”
The silence lasts all of a minute, and then I hear him curse.
“I gotta go babe. I’ll accept payments as long as you can make them comfortably, and I expect you to consider the move.”
“Fine. Tell Cleo I’m sending her a tongue kiss and I still fantasize about getting her alone in her little home library. Rawwwr.”
“Imp. Love you, Evie.”
“Love ya too, Jerry,” I say with a laugh, ending the call before he can growl.
My phone hits the bed where I toss it, and I’m just heading for the lamp when I get an awful feeling down my spine a second before I see a shadow move out of the corner of my eye.
My gasp and the shock shatter the dead silence, and for a brief moment, I feel my body turn to jelly as the shadow lunges at me. I’m not a fighter, never have been, since my idea of conflict is not saying thank you, but I told y’all, Jericho is a bastard about my skills and he drilled me like a pro.
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 30
