The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

  Fuck. No way will I last.

  “Do you want me to come like this or be buried inside you?” I leave the question and then lie back, drifting back into the sensation. Her answer comes in the form of her mouth tightening around me. I place gentle pressure on the back of her head and let her devour me whole.

  There’s a freedom in falling, in letting yourself go as the heavier parts of life float in a different direction. It only lasts a few seconds, but there’s magic in making you forget your problems for just a little while.

  Winter looks up, a sexy grin in place. Her palms are on my abs, her fingertips tracing the ridges of my muscles. She lifts and slides up next to me, curling into my side. With my arm around her, my eyelids are heavy, the strain of the day beginning to get the better of me.

  Her eyes are closed, but I kiss her head, rousing her once more. “I want to make love to you.”

  “Is it okay if we stay like this?”

  “If we sleep, our night is fucked.”

  “Maybe we’ll fuck all night instead of sleep.”

  “How is it possible that I met my match?”

  That leaves her laughing. The sound is better than my favorite song. Rolling to the side, she rests her hands and chin on my chest. I open my eyes to find her sleepy blues looking at me. I want to devour her for the way she took me in her mouth, but for the first time in my life, lying next to a beautiful, naked woman isn’t all about sex. This—cuddling, talking, trusting—is both soothing and an aphrodisiac. Tracing my fingers down her spine and lower to her fine ass, I cup a cheek, and ask, “What?”

  “I hate to bring the negative to bed with us, but I’ve been wondering if you contacted my father or if he contacted you?”

  “Yeah, not exactly pillow talk.” Shoving a hand behind my head, I lift enough to keep my eyes on her. I’m not going to deny her the conversation since it all has to come out eventually. “He contacted me.”

  “Because he set us up.” The way she says that is so interesting. She’s sees him for who he is.

  “I stupidly believed he was worried.”

  “He plays a good game of poker.” Rolling onto her back, she flops her arm across my middle while the other hand’s off the bed. “How much was I worth?”

  “The deal?” She nods. I feel like such an asshole, but I have to tell her. “Eight million.”

  “He wasn’t going to sign the contract, Bennett.” She drags her hand across my body and then rests it in her lap.

  “I know that now.”

  “He doesn’t have the money. The company is in dire straits.” She sits up and straightens her legs on top of the covers. “I just remembered I told Singer I would go to the spa with them. I can cancel if you want me to.”

  I don’t want to ruin her time with my sisters-in-law, knowing all of them could use the peace. “You should go.”

  “I’ll just be gone for an hour or so.”

  “Take your time. Enjoy it. Do you mind if I tell the team what we’ve talked about?”

  “Of course not.” She leans over and kisses my head.

  Just before she climbs out of bed, I catch her by the wrist. When she turns back, I sit up and give her a kiss. I can’t believe those three little words are on the tip of my tongue. I scramble to replace them with four others. “You matter to me.”

  A sweet smile anchors her there, admiring me. She finally touches my cheek, running her thumb over my stubble, and says, “You matter to me.” Stretching back, she kisses me before she leaves.

  Smiling like a fool, I lie back with my hands behind my head. I think we kind of said it without saying it, but that will do for now.

  27

  Bennett

  I pull the food from the bag and set the containers on the island. For a brief second, I wonder if she’ll like what I ordered. Avoiding Italian, delis, burger joints, a repeat of steak from the other day, and knocking heavy carbs out of the menu made it tough to figure out what to serve for dinner.

  Ten minutes later, the wine is on the table, the dishes, silverware, and glasses are set. Since I’ve lived in Manhattan, I’ve not had a woman to my apartment for dinner. I’ve always taken dates to restaurants. Before Winter, I never felt this need to impress someone, to bring them into my home, and to have them be a part of my life long term. I do with her.

  Ally and Singer have stocked my place, so I light a few candles I discovered in the hall closet a few weeks ago and wait.

  . . . And wait.

  I should have ordered her a new phone today. Sucks not having contact when I want it. Checking my watch, she’s been gone an hour and a half. She must have gone for a longer treatment. Massages. Facials. These things take time.

  When my watch ticks to forty-five after the hour, I take a sip of wine, and then I just finish it. That was a bad pour. This time, I refill it with more than four ounces. I go for six. Then drink some more until our glasses are even again.

  Two hours . . .

  I get up and pace to the door and back a few times. “Fuck it.” I call down to the spa.

  “Good evening, Mr. Everest, this is Wendy. May I book a relaxation treatment for you?”

  “No, Wendy. Thank you. I’m calling to touch base with Ms. Nobleman. Is she available?”

  “No, sir, she left just about an hour ago.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask dumbly.

  “Ms. Nobleman checked out and left with Mrs. Everest and Mrs. Everest.”

  “Thanks, Wendy.” I hang up and call Singer. The words rush out as soon as she answers, “Is Winter there?”

  “Oh hello, Bennett. Nice to talk to you, too.”

  “Hi, is she with you?”

  “No—”

  “Call Aaron. She’s missing. I have to check the security video.”

  “Bennett—”

  I hang up and turn to run for the front door but am halted when I see Winter standing in front of me. “Winter!” I grab her, pulling her to me.

  Her arms come around my back and loop to my shoulders, her head tucked in my arms. “What’s wrong, Bennett?”

  “Thank God, you’re okay. I thought something happened to you.”

  The door flies open, and Lars rushes in but stops abruptly when he sees us. “Is she all right?”

  Pulling back, I look her over. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  “You worried me. You said you’d only be an hour. It’s been two, so I called the spa, and they said you left earlier. When I called Singer, she said you weren’t there.”

  “Because I was on my way here. The door was unlocked, so I came in.” Her eyes move past me, and she sees the table. “Is that for me?” she asks, smiling.

  I take a breath and step away. Rubbing my temples, I try to figure out why I lost my shit. She was in the building. She was safe. Turning to Lars, I say, “My apologies. I overreacted. Everything’s fine.”

  Walking to the door, he says, “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, Bennett.”

  “I know. I left it open for her. Now that she’s safe, I’ll triple check the locks after you leave.”

  He chuckles. “And so another one falls.”

  “Another what?” We step into the hall.

  “Brother.” He shakes his head, still laughing. “Call me anytime. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Do you ever sleep?”

  “No.”

  “You need a life, man. Watching over ours twenty-four seven can wear a man down.”

  “When all is calm on the Everest front, I’ll take some time off. Until then, this is where I’ll be.”

  “Thank you.” We shake hands. “You’re a good man, Lars.”

  I walk inside and see Winter standing near the windows. Looking out into the night, she has a wineglass in her hand, her sneakers still on, and a small purse strapped around her.

  The sun set while she was gone, leaving my world darker than how she left it. Lights are dotted across a sea of skyscrapers, but she stand
s as a testament to how bright my world can be with long silky strands that lead to the curve of her waist and toned legs under black leggings that dip out from a dark gray tee.

  I could happily come home to this sight on a regular basis. Crossing the room, she looks back with blue eyes, black lashes, and happiness written across her face. “The spa had a version of warrior blue for my nails,” she says, waggling her fingers. The color of her nails is just shy of midnight. I like how she admires them. Gives me more time to admire her.

  “Warrior blue, huh? Very nice.” When I wrap my arms around her middle, she leans forward, resting against me.

  “I’m sorry I worried you. I thought being with the girls in the building . . . I don’t know what I thought. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

  Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch sight of a flicker above her head, and when I look out the window, it’s just in time to catch it again. I narrow my gaze to home in but there’s no flash. “It’s okay. I let my mind get away from me under the current conditions.”

  She raises her arms around my neck. With the glass in one hand, she curls the other around my nape, looking up at me. “How long do we get to pretend that we can stay here forever?”

  “Another day?”

  It’s the slightest of nods, but I see enough. “Just a little more time. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  Does she not see how much I like her being here, how I try for restraint when all I want to be is inside her, touching her, kissing her until her lips swell from pink to red? “I could keep you here forever if you want.”

  “What if you lose interest?”

  “I know when I have something good.”

  “And you see me as good?”

  Pushing my fingers through her hair, I caress the back of her head. “I see you as a part of—” The explosion is deafening, the window cracking against the pressure as I spin, shielding her behind me. “Run!”

  “Where?”

  Another flash in the distance and a shot is fired. I grab her arm and sprint for the exit. The glass splinters across the panel, and when I open the front door, it explodes behind us. “Run to Hutton’s.”

  We run, and I land hard against their door. Typing in the code, the lock is released, and I burst inside. “Ally? Hutton?”

  Panicked, Winter says, “I left her at Singer’s.”

  “Hutton?” I shout once more, but there’s no answer in return. “Elevator.”

  We run back to the hall and I flatten my palm, activating the black pad and an alarm. When the door slides open, I pull her in, and type the code to close it. “Get in.”

  Inside the elevator, she asks, “Is it safe?”

  “The safest place we can be until we get downstairs.” I grab my phone and type: Code five. Penthouse. “Was Ethan home?”

  “No.”

  I press the button for the top floor and then text: Abort. I’m going in.

  “What’s going on?” She cries, huddling in the corner.

  “When the door opens, do not leave the elevator. Stay to the side so no one can see you.”

  “Bennett?”

  “Three. Two.” The door slides open. “One.” With my arm stretched out, protecting her, I lean back just in case there’s gunfire or an attack. When we’re greeted with silence, I run down the hall. “Singer?”

  She comes running around the corner, and I catch her in my arms. “The alarm sounded.”

  “We have to get out of here.” She grabs her purse from a table as she runs to the safety of the elevator. “Where’s Ally?”

  “She went home.”

  “Fuck! We just looked for her.” I press the code, and the door shuts again.

  Looking at me, she asks, “What’s happening?”

  She moves to the corner with Winter and wraps her arm around her just as Winter starts sliding to the floor terrified. “It’ll be okay,” Singer whispers to her.

  The elevator stops back on my floor, and the door opens. “Ally!”

  Ally gets in, soaking hair and in a short bathrobe. When I press for the door to close, she says, “I was taking a shower.”

  “You’re in one piece?” I ask.

  “I’m okay.” She and Singer hug each other. “I’m glad Hutton’s at work.”

  “I’m sure he’s already left.” I am never going to hear the end of this. My brothers will be fucking maniacs to deal with.

  The speaker in the elevator beeps once, and Lars’s voice comes through. “Is anyone injured?”

  I look at them, doing a quick assessment. “No.”

  “The penthouse and your floor are on code five. The elevator will come straight to the second floor where I’ll be waiting.”

  Singer’s phone rings. Her voice is shaking when she answers, “Ethan?”

  When tears start rolling down her cheeks, I take the phone from her. “She’s fine. We’re heading to the panic room.”

  “What’s going on?” His breath is puffing. He must be running.

  “You can’t come here.”

  “Bullshit. If my wife’s there, I’m there. Tell me what happened?”

  “My apartment. Three rounds. The glass held long enough for us to get out.”

  “Fuck!” His shout echoes through my ear and probably half of Manhattan. I hold the phone away reflexively.

  His anger is palpable but not stronger than mine. I catch Winter’s eyes glued to mine and reach for her, but the elevator stops. “We’re here.” I disconnect and hand Singer the phone. Reaching down, I help Winter up, holding tight to her hand.

  Lars is waiting with two men behind him. While he faces us, they’re turned away, armed and on guard. “We’re not detecting any activity from the outside or on the top floors. Go in,” he commands. Singer, Ally, and Winter rush out of the elevator and into the panic room. I trail them into the state-of-the-art, full metal and concrete-built compound. As soon as Lars closes the vaulted door behind us, I see Winter stop.

  Standing in the middle of the room, Winter looks around, and says, “Oh my God! No!”

  28

  Bennett

  Singer and Ally have been here a time or two. An attack on the building hasn’t happened but once before, but we’ve had several false alarms, so they’re familiar with the shelter.

  The way the panic room is set up, it can serve as an apartment for all of us for up to four months. After that, oxygen and food get rationed for one more month. If Manhattan is bombed, this shelter will survive.

  As for Winter, who’s trembling like a leaf, I go to her and bend down to look her in the eyes. “We’re okay. You are all right. Try to take a deep breath.” She hangs on every word, her grip on my arms tightens and her nails begin to dig in. “Breathe, ma chérie.”

  Her lashes are clinging together under the weight of her tears. “What is this place?” Taking another deep breath, she exhales slowly.

  I can hear Ally talking to Hutton and Singer to Ethan, both of them taking to opposite sides of the large living space. Knowing they’re safe, I turn my focus back to Winter. “It’s a panic room. For safety.”

  “This isn’t a room.” Her nails loosen from my skin, and she begins a slow scan. “This is an underground prison.”

  “It’s not a prison.”

  “We’re locked in here, right?” She rushes toward the door and tugs on the handle.

  “We are. For safety.”

  “You keep saying that. Stop saying for safety.” Pulling as hard as she can, she raises her voice. “I want out. Get me out, Bennett.”

  “Not until we get the all clear.” I go to her, but she slaps my hand away.

  “Open the damn door!”

  “Calm down.” Her eyes are crazed, her pupils wide. “What’s wrong, Winter?”

  “I want out. Now!” She puts her feet on the door for leverage and pulls back the handle as hard as she can. Her feet drop, and she yanks again, her body shaking with desperation. “Let me out!”

  Holy shit. “Are you claustrophobic?” Wha
t do I do? I run and grab her around the waist, her body flailing and hitting my arms as she screams at me to release her. When I do, she falls to the ground and curls over her body. Her head tucks down over her knees, and her body stills under the trembling.

  When I touch her back, her arm flies out to push me away, so I leave her be, turning to look behind me. Singer puts her hands out for me to stay put. Ally comes with her. They don’t look stressed or panicked like how I feel inside. Helpless to help Winter.

  Slowly, they ball up on either side of her. They don’t touch her or say anything. They just match their breathing to her lengthening breaths.

  The sound is all we hear for a minute before Singer looks up and nods at me. I move in, not sure what to do and not wanting to upset Winter. Squatting in front of her, I wait until she looks up, her body following suit as she sits on her legs bent under her.

  Winter may have tucked away in terror for only a minute, but it felt like an hour. I know McCoy’s to blame. Fuck. What did he do to her?

  When she looks at me, I see the horror of humiliation filling those beautiful baby blues. Caressing her chin, I run my thumb over her cheek, and say, “Don’t cry.”

  She sits up, and I swoop in to catch her. Her arms come around my neck, and I lift her, kissing the side of her head as I carry her to a couch. With her head resting on my shoulder, I sit, cradling her to me.

  Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see Ally or Singer getting up and giving us privacy when they disappear into one of the bedrooms. Resting my hand on her neck, I try to check her pulse without her getting wind of the covert operation. It’s calming, which is good, so I kiss her forehead.

  She says, “I was packed in a crate.”

  My heart rate spikes from the confession, but I’m not sure where to go with this. As if it will make a difference, I whisper, “When?”

  “The night I was taken to Paris.”

  “Kidnapped,” I correct.

  She lifts her head, but her arms don’t loosen. “Kidnapped,” she says so softly like the idea itself is unfathomable. “He drugged me and shoved me in a crate. A crate . . .”

  “Fuck.” He’s a dead man.