The Brothers Next Door (A Striker Brothers Romance #1)

by Terry Towers

  Quickly she undid his pants and freed his member. Grasping him in her hand she began stroking his length; he didn’t have the biggest cock in the world, but it did the job. As she was dropping to her knees in front of him the door to the office flew open. Shit. She couldn’t believe she didn’t remember to lock the door, but then again she wasn’t expecting this impromptu sex session; her drop in this afternoon had been for a legitimate business reason, but Logan could be such a very convincing man when he set his mind on something.

  “Rebecca!”

  Violet’s body froze, her hand still clutching him as she looked over her shoulder to see a tall, dark-haired woman storm in, rage in her dark eyes. Rebecca, his soon-to-be ex-wife. She’d been in a relationship with Logan for a little over four months, but this was the first time she’d actually seen his almost ex in person.

  Her cheeks burning, she immediately released him and got to her feet as he tucked himself away. This was beyond awkward and she was at a loss as to what to do.

  “What are you doing here, Rebecca?” Looking back at Logan, Violet saw horror and guilt etched in his expression.

  “I knew it! I knew you were fucking around on me and sure enough I catch you here with this whore!”

  Whore? Who, me?

  Violet frowned as she continued to stare at Logan, who met her questioning stare and grimaced. And she could see right then, he’d lied to her, the guilt was written all over his face. He’d been lying to her, to both of them, no doubt from the beginning.

  She’d never, ever been in a situation like this before and had absolutely no idea what to do. There was a whirlwind of emotions racing through her – shame, embarrassment, confusion, hurt, rage... So many emotions all wanting to break out. Cry, scream, run out of there and never return – all of the above.

  “You were never separated?”

  Logan looked anxiously from her to Rebecca and back to Violet. “We… were.”

  “For a few weeks and it was hardly a separation,” Rebecca snapped, cutting her eyes at Violet.

  Violet’s brow creased, even more confused. “But your apartment. I’ve been to your apartment… There’s no…” Had it all been one big elaborate lie? How could she have been so stupid? But in her defense, in their four months together Rebecca had never shown up at the office and he did a very good job at covering his tracks, keeping his private life extremely private.

  Just when she didn’t think his face could get any paler, it did.

  “What apartment, Logan?” She dared a look over at his wife, who seemed to have forgotten all about her and was focusing her hatred directly onto her husband. “And where’s your wedding band?”

  He hung his head in shame. “In my desk. I never gave up the apartment I rented when we separated.”

  Tension filled the room, so thick it was suffocating. Violet was so confused. She couldn’t think straight, but she did know one thing… She needed out of there, and quickly. Up until a few minutes ago she’d really cared for him, but in the span of a few minutes that affection was gone and was replaced with a hate so intense that it was taking all of her restraint not to charge him and knock him senseless.

  She’d unwittingly become the other woman, a home wrecker. The man even had two kids! She’d always prided herself on being a smart, independent woman. God, how could I have let him fool me for so long? So stupid, so, so stupid. He hadn’t been keeping it secret for her benefit or because he was concerned of what the staff would say, he was covering his own ass! The urgent need to flee became too much to deny any longer. With tears of humiliation and shame stinging her eyes she raced from his office, slamming the door behind her. She briefly noticed the startled look on his secretary’s face as she stormed past.

  If she never saw Logan Sinclair again it would be too soon.

  Chapter 1

  Twenty minutes and she’d be home, or at least what she used to consider home. Technically, it hadn’t been home since she left seven years ago at age 18 to go to college in New York City. When she left she swore she’d never come back, she’d said good riddance to Alabama for good – or so she thought. But here she was driving down a dark, deserted country road on way to the place she grew up. The only other time she’d returned to Alabama was for her father’s funeral, five years prior, but she was in the middle of exams and her mother insisted she go back to school and make her father proud. So she had – a part of her regretful for leaving her mother alone to deal with the grief, but another part of her relieved; it was easier to come to terms with losing her father when she didn’t have constant reminders of him.

  The sound of a siren behind her and the flashing of red and blue lights in the rear-view mirror broke her from her brief trip down memory lane. “Ahhh, dammit.” Giving her head a shake, her blonde ponytail swinging back and forth behind her, she flicked on the blinker and pulled over to the side of the road. Turning off the car, she reached across the seat, popped the glove compartment and pulled out her insurance and registration cards. She had no clue what she’d done, but then again since the day she’d run from Logan’s office, a little over a week ago, she’d hardly been thinking clearly.

  The police car rolled up behind her.

  “Get out of the vehicle and place your palms flat on the hood of the car,” a voice blared from the car’s speaker system.

  Frowning, she looked into the rear-view mirror at the car behind her. You have got to be shitting me. Since when was that the procedure? She’d seen a news story recently about abductors who pretended to be police, had women pull over and then abducted them. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be tomorrow’s headline.

  “Get out of the vehicle and place your palms flat on the hood of the car. This is your final request,” the voice blared.

  Remembering that she had a Taser in her glove compartment, she popped open the glove compartment and rummaged for it. Finding it, she flicked it on and then stuffed it into her purse before getting out of the car and doing as told, ensuring her purse and the weapon inside were easily accessible – just in case. If this wasn’t a real cop and he intended to take her, then by God he’d have a battle on his hands – Violet Phillips wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  The cop got out of the car and began making his way over to her. He was tall, maybe a little over 6’ and appeared to be well-built, although the bulletproof vest he was wearing added to his thickness. His hat was pulled down over his eyes and with the darkness of the road, she couldn’t make out his features.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked in a gruff voice as he came to stand behind her.

  Her hand inched toward her open purse ready to defend herself if needed – although he seemed legit. But what did she know, maybe those crazies who abducted women appeared legit as well. Maybe they even were legit; not all cops were honest and law-abiding.

  “You were bored and figured what the hell?” Violet cringed at her words – this certainly wasn’t the time to be a smartass – but she simply wasn’t in the mood for this shit. All she wanted to do was get to her mother’s house, curl up in her old bed with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and stay there in solitude for a few days licking her wounds and attempting to reassemble the pieces of her broken heart and shattered pride.

  He chuckled softly. “Are you always this combative when being pulled over?” He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of her neck that sent a shiver through her as he kicked her feet further apart. Her brow creased as she focused on his voice, damn it sounded familiar, she just couldn’t place it. Or maybe it had been so long since she’d been in Alabama that anyone with the accent sounded the same. She didn’t know, but after 14 hours of driving, she was tired and just wanted to sleep.

  “I don’t usually get pulled over, Officer.”

  “Uh-huh. Seems a little hard to believe.” He crouched behind her and began to pat her down, starting at her ankles and working his way upward.

  “Excuse me, what do
you mean by that?” Violet turned to look down at him, but only got a glimpse of the top of his hat.

  “It means, you appear to be a bit of a troublemaker. Now, face forward, ma’am.” Standing and grabbing her shoulders, he forced her face forward again and down to the hood before resuming his crouching position.

  Troublemaker? She paused and allowed herself to be readjusted, looking straight ahead. The fear that he may be some perverted abductor left her; he seemed more like an overzealous asshat. His hands continued to work their way up her jean-clad legs, his hands caressing her legs as they worked their way upward. She’d been patted down before and admittedly she’d been a little hellion when she was a teenager so no stranger to this process, but never patted down like this.

  “Is this really necessary?” she asked and attempted to squirm from his grip but his hands were firm on her as they worked their way over her knee and continued upward. He was seconds away from reaching her crotch. Cop or not, if he even dared touch her there she’d Taser his pervy ass!

  “Very, Miss Phillips.” His reply had a faint husky sound to it. Was this shit turning him on?

  Wait a second! Did he just call me Miss Phillips? she thought as the realization that she hadn’t given him her identification yet dawned on her. Her frown deepened as he got up from his crouching position and stood behind her. His hands slid from her legs to her hips, slowly working their way up her sides. The wind picked up and offered a hint of his cologne, a deep woodsy and spicy smell. She’d admit it smelt nice and enticed her to lean back into him, but she denied the urge. Again, a sense of familiarity washed over her.

  When his hands reached the sides of her breasts and paused there her breath hitched and her hand inched its way to the Taser. “Excuse me, but this is highly inappropriate. I’d appreciate it if you took your hands off me, gave me my ticket for whatever you think I did to help fill your quota and I’ll be on my way.”

  He leaned into her, his lips grazing her earlobe. “Well shit Violet, you had no problem with me touching you prom night.” He chuckled again, taking a step back.

  Prom night? It felt like her heart stopped for a second as memories of prom came rushing back to her. He couldn’t be… She twirled around, her mouth dropping open. But, it was. “Devon Land!”

  Placing his hands on his hips, a roar of laughter erupted from him.

  “Ohmygod! You asshole.” Grabbing her purse she gave him a whack on the shoulder with it. “You ass! I thought you were some sort of pervert or kidnapper!” She whacked him a couple more times. “Ass!”

  Her abuse seemed to only further amuse him. Stopping her assault on him, she placed her purse back on the hood of her silver Mercedes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared up at her former high school sweetheart and partner in crime from all those years ago.

  His laughter stopped, but a smile remained on his face displaying a set of adorable, yet sexy as hell dimples. And there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. The girls at their high school used to swoon every time he smiled at them – herself included – but they all knew he was hers so none ever tried to get with him, although she’d known many were envious.

  “Welcome home, Violet.”

  Immediately, she relaxed and took a minute to examine the more mature Devon, although after that little stunt she’d hesitate to say more mature. That’s the sort of crap that he’d pull when they were teenagers, and she’d fallen in love with him despite his antics. Hell, because of his antics even; he’d always been fun and exciting to be around. But that was a long time ago. He seemed to have gained a lot more muscle over the years and he seemed a lot taller than she’d remembered, a solid 7 or 8 inches taller than her 5’5.

  “Welcome home? Did you know I was coming home?” As soon as the question passed her lips she realized the answer. Of course he had, her mother had the biggest mouth in town.

  “Your mom,” he confirmed her suspicions.

  “I see.”

  “When your car drove past me with the New York plates I assumed it was you.” He redirected his attention to her car and let out a low whistle. “Fancy ride you got there V.” V had been his nickname for her growing up. “Turning into a big-time city girl seems to be working out well for you.” He stepped up to the hood of the car and ran his fingertips along it until his eyes landed on her purse, in particular the Taser that had halfway fallen out. He picked it up and examined it, switching it off and turning back to her. “What are you doing with a Taser?”

  Violet shrugged, giving him a wry grin. “Just in case you were a kidnapper or something.”

  “You were going to Taser me?”

  Snatching the Taser from his fingertips, she picked up her purse, tossed it inside and then chucked the purse through the open driver’s window and into the car. “First off, I didn’t know it was you. Second, if your fingers had gotten any more grabby then I just might have.”

  He cringed. “Ouch. Good thing I didn’t then, huh?”

  “Good thing.” To her surprise she could hear a little hint of her own accent – an accent she’d tried so damned hard to hide over the years – coming out. Shit.

  Devon reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced a pen and pad and began writing on the pad. “So, darlin’, I need to get your licence, insurance card and registration.”

  Planting her hands on her hips she stared up at him. “What for?”

  He glanced up from the pad to catch her bewildered gaze. “So I can write up your ticket.”

  “You’re giving me a ticket? What the hell for?”

  “Failure to stop at a stop sign a bit back.”

  “I stopped.” She vaguely remembered a stop sign, but she’d stopped, she was positive of it. Well, pretty sure she stopped. Had she stopped?

  He rolled his eyes at her. “You did a rolling stop, but not a complete stop. And if I recall, you’ve always been so impatient with stop signs. I told you way back when we were going together that you’d get a ticket for it.”

  “You’re joking, right?” She couldn’t believe he was actually going to ticket her for that. It had to be another one of his pranks.

  “No, ma’am. The law is the law.” His face was serious, not even a hint of a smile. “When traffic laws aren’t obeyed people die.”

  “The man who stole Mr. Kerrington’s tractor and took it out for a joyride, crashing it into his neighbour’s koi pond – killing three fish I might add – is giving me a ticket for coming to a rolling stop at a stop sign.” She huffed and gave her head a shake in disbelief.

  “Just consider yourself lucky I’m not also charging you with assault of an officer for smacking me with that purse of yours. What in the hell do you have in that thing anyhow, felt like it was loaded with bricks!”

  “You lived.”

  “Maybe, but it was still assault. I might end up with a bruise.” He snapped his fingers at her. “Hustle up. Let’s see that ID. I do hope you’re insured.”

  “I’m insured.” Still uncertain if this was just another Devon joke or if he was actually serious, she retrieved the purse that she’d just chucked into the car and pulled out the required documents, passing them to him, along with her driver’s licence. “Damn ridiculous that’s what this is,” she muttered under her breath as she shot him a dirty look. This was insane.

  He waved the driver’s licence under her nose. “Good picture.”

  “Can’t you just give me a warning or something,” she shrugged, giving him a half-smile, “for old times’ sake?”

  After further examining the cards he tapped the end of his pen off of the side of the pad, then slowly looked up, cocking a brow at her. “Well, I may have another option for you.”

  “What’s that?” She released a sigh of relief. She was currently out of a job. Logan had called her and fired her the day after the incident with his wife, explaining that he couldn’t have her working there any longer – not that she’d had any interest whatsoever in working for that cheating piec
e of shit anyhow. She just would have preferred to have something lined up before leaving. She’d be living off her savings until she figured out what to do next.

  He passed back the ID. “I’ll let you go with a warning on one condition.”

  “And… That is…” Why was he insisting on dragging this out? She was so tired.

  “I have tomorrow off, so how about we have supper together tomorrow night?” He gave her a sexy, lopsided grin. When they’d been teenagers that grin used to make her tummy flutter and she’d give in to whatever he wanted. Apparently, that hadn’t changed because the answer yes was on the tip of her tongue, despite the torment he’d just put her through.

  “Devon, I don’t –” She didn’t know why he’d even want to take her out after the way they’d left things before she went off to college at NYU.

  He shrugged. “Ticket it is then.”

  “Isn’t this extortion?”

  “Nah,” Devon huffed. “’Course not. It’s just me giving you options. That’s all. Trying to cut you a break. Apparently, with that high-paying job a two hundred dollar ticket is chump change for a girl like you.”

  Although, would it hurt to go out to dinner with him, maybe catch up? She was curious to know how things had gone with him over the years. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him, she had. Pretty much every memory she had as a teenager involved him. They’d started dating at the tender age of 13 and been inseparable until she left for New York. It had been the cliché, but true . There was a part of her that had missed him, even till this day. What could it hurt, really?