Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  "Oh." I blink again, surprised. "And this is already in place?"

  Killian gives another nod. He really doesn't say much.

  "The app will streamline the process and ensure everything is set up and ready to go for their vets upon arrival at the facility," Dom continues for him. "The interface needs to be simple and secure, but effective."

  "How are vets chosen?"

  "Referral," Killian says.

  "From whom?"

  He eyes me, not speaking.

  "That's the tricky part," Dom mutters for him. "We're not allowed to ask any questions about who the vets are or how they're referred to his program."

  I frown, not sure I like the sound of that. It seems…exclusive almost. I spent my high school years in a boarding school where exclusivity was the name of the game. I don't regret it, but it wasn't easy to be one of a handful of scholarship students surrounded by the daughters of politicians and celebrities.

  "We serve soldiers returning stateside from highly classified assignments," Killian states.

  "That I can't know about," I say, understanding dawning. There is a measure of exclusivity, but for good reason. Even if he wanted to tell me about who they serve, he can't because their missions were classified.

  He jerks his chin in yet another nod. I'm beginning to think this man communicates primarily through movements of his chin and the narrowing of his eyes. And yet, his presence in the room is almost overwhelming.

  I tap my foot against the chair leg, thinking. Even though he makes me nervous, I want to help him. Not just because of my dad, but because of the people out there like him who need to help. I'm guessing those who worked in classified positions probably need it just as badly as anyone else coming home from combat.

  "I'll pay you one hundred thousand dollars," Killian says abruptly.

  "You mean you'll pay him a hundred thousand dollars," I say, pointing at Dom. He owns the company. I just work here.

  The look on Dom's face gives me pause. "He's not here to hire the company," he says. "He's here to hire you."

  "Me?" I open my mouth a couple of times, only to snap it closed again. "Why me?"

  Neither of them says anything.

  "Why me?" I ask again, staring at Killian.

  "Why not you?" he says.

  I narrow my eyes on him, not buying that non-answer for a minute. No one walks through the doors and demands me personally. And they definitely don't offer me six figures to work on a project for them. I'm good at what I do, but I'm not that good and I'm not that well known, especially with Silicon Valley just a day's drive from here.

  "You did some work for my brother last year," Killian says when I say nothing.

  "Sebastian," I say, immediately making the connection. Of course. How did I miss it? Sebastian told me he had a twin brother. They aren't identical, but they do look alike now that I'm thinking about it. They're both big and imposing, with stern features and intense eyes. Sebastian's are so dark they're almost black, though.

  Killian's jaw clenches like he's irritated, though I don't understand why. Sebastian Thorne is…well, he's not really a friend because I don't have those. But he is someone I admire. His family—Killian's family, I guess—is ridiculously wealthy, and he did a lot for the community before moving to San Francisco a few months ago. I forgot he had a twin brother, though.

  "I'll help you," I agree before I can stop myself.

  "Because of Sebastian," Killian growls, irritation flaring in his gaze again.

  The sight of it there annoys me. I didn't agree because of his twin, but because I can do a lot of good with a hundred grand, and because I want to help him help soldiers in need. But why should he care even if Sebastian was my reason? Before I can disabuse him of the notion that I agreed because of his brother, he stands up.

  "I'll send the contract to you this afternoon," he mutters. "I expect you to be in first thing in the morning."

  "I have other clients," I snap.

  He ignores me, turning to Dom. "I need her first thing in the morning."

  "We'll work it out," my boss says, the traitor.

  Killian gives another of those infuriating nods and then strides toward the door.

  I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to tell him to go to hell. Regardless of what he thinks about me and my reasons for agreeing, I still want to help. Too damn bad it means working with his crabby, sexy ass because I already know that's going to go so well.

  "That went well," Dom says when the door clicks closed behind Killian.

  I turn my glare on him, which makes him laugh loudly.

  "What? It did."

  "I'm not talking to you for the rest of the week," I sniff, rising to my feet and adjusting my top. "And I'm telling Summer you're a jerk."

  "He likes you."

  "Right." I roll my eyes at my boss. If that was Killian liking me, I'd hate to know how he acts toward people he doesn't like. "I guess I have things I need to do this afternoon since I'm reporting for duty first thing in the morning. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

  Dom is such a laid-back boss, it's not unusual for engineers to take time off to work on their own projects. Dom says it's good experience that benefits us all in the end. But usually there's a little more lead time involved.

  "Yep. The networking project can wait. I don't think Killian can do the same." He grins at me, humor glinting in his emerald eyes.

  "I hate you," I mutter, though we both know that's a lie. Dom took a chance on me when no one else wanted to hire a twenty-one-year-old college student with zero actual work experience. I love my job here and he's an incredible boss. Still annoying though.

  "Have fun!" His laughter chases me from his office.

  I can think of a lot of things working with Killian will probably be…but I don't think fun is among them. He's so…so ugh! Why does he have to be so hot and a jerk? And why did he seem so irritated about the fact that I know his brother?

  Chapter Two

  Killian

  "How'd it go?" Sebastian asks as soon as I answer my phone.

  "Fine," I growl…though I'm not at all sure that's an accurate assessment of how my meeting with Liberty Connor went. Not only is she intelligent as all hell, she's a knockout, with glossy mink brown hair that's dyed blonde at the tips, bottomless honey-colored eyes, pouty red lips, and a killer body. Her lush curves are a wet dream come true. A rough son of a bitch like me could get lost in a woman like Liberty Connor and not regret a second of it.

  Too damn bad she's slept with my brother.

  I pace around my office at the reminder, pissed all over again that he got to her before I could. I want her. My dick hasn't gone down since she looked at me with fire in her eyes and her teeth sunk into her pouty bottom lip. Grown men who command troops of their own don't even look at me like she did.

  I'm damn good at reading people though, and Liberty is an open book. She may want me to think she's a fierce lioness, but she's a harmless little lamb. I guess it's a good thing Sebastian got to her first. A girl like her needs someone who can be soft and sweet…and that damn sure isn't me. I'm thirty-six, set in my ways. I've spent most of my adult life in the military, grinding the challenge out of even the toughest of men.

  I don't date. I don't do love. I'm not that kind of man. It's been years since I've been with anyone. But the filthy shit I want to do to Liberty Connor runs through my head in a loop. I want to see my marks in her skin, see how much she can take before she breaks for me. A big part of me wants to protect her too, keep her safe from whatever put that sadness in her eyes. She tries hard to hide it, but I saw it. And I fucking hate it.

  "Fine?" Sebastian chuckles. "So it was that bad, huh?"

  "You didn't mention that you'd slept with her," I mutter before I can stop myself. I make another circuit around my office, glaring at the boxes still sitting in the corner, waiting for me to unpack them. I've been stateside for the last six months, but I'm still living out of boxes here and at home.

 
; Sebastian laughs so hard I consider hanging up on him. "You think I slept with Liberty? What the fuck gave you that idea?"

  "She likes you." Why do I sound petulant?

  "You've spent too much time in the desert," Sebastian says, still laughing. "I've never slept with Liberty. We've never even dated."

  Well…shit.

  I rub the back of my neck, feeling sheepish and an overwhelming sense of relief. She's not off limits. Fuck. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing right now. Even if she hasn't slept with my brother, she's too good for a man like me. My hands are stained with the blood of the men I've killed for my country.

  "She's a good girl, Killian," Sebastian says as if reading my mind. "She's different."

  "What does that mean?" I growl, not liking the sound of that at fucking all.

  "It means she's a friend," he says, his voice firm. "She's not the kind of girl who sleeps around. And despite your opinion of me, I don't either."

  "I never said that," I object, pulling the phone away from my ear to glare at it.

  "You didn't have to say it," he mutters. "You accused me of sleeping with her like it's something I do regularly. I don't. It's been…" He pauses like he's thinking about it. "Shit. It's been two years since I got laid."

  "Jesus." I stare at the phone for a long moment and then expel a heavy breath. How'd I manage to piss both him and Liberty off in the space of a single afternoon? "I don't think about your sex life. She just seemed to like you and I made a wrong assumption."

  "You're jealous."

  "I'm not fucking jealous," I lie, even though I'm definitely fucking jealous. Which I have never been in my life. But I felt possessive of her the second I set eyes on her. The feeling has only grown in the hours since.

  Sebastian snorts. "Whatever you say. My point is, she's had a rough life. She's got up more walls than you do. Even if I had wanted to date her, it never would have happened. I actually admire her, and she's been a big help to me. Don't make me regret referring you to her."

  "Fair enough," I mutter, though I really want to demand that he tell me who made her life hard so I can find and eliminate them, and then I want to tell my brother to fuck off for telling me what to do. Which is odd in and of itself. Sebastian and I don't fight. We rarely argue. Growing up, it was the two of us against the world.

  We both joined up as soon as we turned eighteen. Sebastian got out years ago, but I liked the order the Marines brought to my life, the routine. There was never much of that growing up. Our father was rarely around, and our mother was too preoccupied with the socialite life to spare much attention to her two young sons. By the time she died and our father remarried, we were teenagers, capable of looking after ourselves.

  I've never been jealous of Sebastian. Hell, I've never been jealous period. But Liberty already has me turned inside out and upside down. I shouldn't have demanded that she work here. The demand popped out before I could call it back, though. Simple fact is…I want her in my space, not in Dominic Alessi's. Not in my twin brother's. In mine.

  I glance around at said space, wondering what she'll think of it. We converted an old hospital to meet our needs. My office isn't fancy, but it's more than big enough for me, the carpet is new, and the paint fresh. A handful of books are aligned neatly on the shelves lining one wall, and stacks of paperwork are ordered just as neatly on the corner of the ornate desk.

  A desk I had brought in for Liberty sits off to the side. The rest of the room is full of unpacked boxes and equipment I haven't had time to find a home for just yet. The rest of the place is in a similar state. We hit the ground running as soon as I had boots on the ground, but a project of this magnitude takes time, energy, and a helluva lot of work.

  Two wings of the hospital have been converted into housing units for the men, with kitchens and common rooms in each wing. Their bedrooms aren't fancy, but they are private. Soldiers like the ones we'll be serving don't expect fancy anyway. They've been in the most hellish sorts of places, sleeping in conditions not conducive to rest. Here, they'll be able to rest easy while they reacclimate to life, surrounded by men who know exactly what they've been through and what's still ahead. And there is still so much shit ahead for each of them.

  None of them will return the same as they were when they left. The things they've seen and done in the name of God and country…well, some memories you can't erase. Quite frankly, I'm tired of watching my men and others like them die because there is no one to watch out for them once they're home, no one to talk to about the classified shit they did to keep our people safe. Even with the new laws that have passed in the last few years, most soldiers like mine don't seek help because they're honor bound by their own oaths to keep quiet about their missions.

  This program quashes that dilemma. Everyone here has security clearance. Everyone here has worked classified missions of their own. Everyone here knows what it's like to come home different than they were when they left. It took a miracle and an ungodly amount of money to get it going. But I've got nothing but time on my hands since I'm no longer in active status, and my family has more than enough money to burn. What good is having it if I can't use it to help the people who need it?

  "Take care of her," Sebastian orders me, like I'd let anything bad happen to her.

  I need her brain, especially if she's as good as he says she is at developing the kind of shit we need here. I want to ensure we've got everything these guys will need ready to go before they ever step foot in this facility. She's going to help me make sure we can do that. I know how to get unruly soldiers in line and get them home safe. I know fuck all about designing programs, coding, or any of the shit Liberty does.

  Even if she can't do what I need, I'd still watch out for her. Not that I think she'll let me do it. She did not seem thrilled with me when I left today. Hell, maybe that's for the best. She's got her whole life ahead of her, and I don't have a place in said life.

  Even though I know that's true…I already know that's not going to stop me from making her mine.

  Bright and early the next morning, I find myself in the lobby, waiting impatiently for her to arrive. I'm restless and agitated…the same way I have been since I saw her yesterday. I jerked off twice last night to dirty fantasies of her, and then again this morning. My dick is still hard and heavy in my black BDUs, anticipation a tight coil in my stomach.

  She's got up enough walls to make Ft. Knox look like child's play, but I'm going to knock them all down, possess her.

  No retreat.

  No surrender.

  I glance around the lobby, curious what she'll think of this place. The seal and emblem for each branch of the military is painted on one cream wall, with a Latin idiom painted beneath. Pax intrantibus, salus exeuntibus. Peace to those who enter, health to those who depart. This is a refuge for those who need it, a port in the storm.

  I hope she's comfortable here with me. I want it to be a port for her too, a place she can let down her guard and know she's safe. With me, she'll always have that. I just have to find a way to make her want it…to want me.

  I don't think she likes me much.

  Jesus. Maybe I should have done more than bought her flowers and a blanket for her desk.

  The door opens while I'm deliberating, and she steps through, pulling me up short. I lock my legs in place, fighting the urge to go to her. She looks ravishing in a pretty blue top that's tight beneath her tits and then flares out into some sort of pleats. The blue skirt matches her top. Her long legs are bare, a pair of pretty black heels on her feet. Her hair is up in an intricate bun today. Her pouty lips are pink. Her sooty lashes are dark. Her cheeks turn pink when she sees me waiting for her.

  "You're late," I growl. My dick is so hard it's painful. I can't think through the wall of lust pounding through me in relentless waves. The things I'm going to teach this girl. Jesus Christ, I should be ashamed of the filthy, kinky shit I'm going to do to her. I'm not. The coil of anticipation in my stomach winds tighter, cinch
ing my balls up tight.

  "It's 7:45," she says, her honey-eyes flashing with annoyance. "You said be here at eight."

  Damn. It feels later.

  "Come with me," I mutter, turning on my heel. I take a deep breath, trying to get myself under control again. It's impossible. I smell her like she's been all over me. She smells like coconut and sugar, reminding me of the pies our nanny used to make for us. I have a feeling she's going to taste even better than they did.

  Her heels click against the floor as she follows behind me. She doesn't speak to me, though I hear her muttering beneath her breath. She's probably calling me a jackass. I don't know how to be soft and sweet like she deserves. It doesn't come natural to me, but I want to try though.

  I stop outside the office we're sharing and hold the door open for her.

  Her body brushes against mine when she ducks through. I fight back the hungry growl threatening to erupt. Slow. I need to take it slow with her. Give her time to trust me. And then I can fuck her until she's pleading for mercy.

  She freezes right over the threshold, going stock still. "We're sharing an office?"

  "Don't have an extra one," I lie.

  "You didn't say we'd be sharing an office."

  "Forgot," I lie again, ducking in behind her. I didn't forget and we don't have to share an office, but we're going to anyway. I want her where I can see her. She's far prettier than any view I've had lately. There is beauty in nature, but that beauty doesn't show up often in the kind of places I've spent the last fifteen years inhabiting.

  Her irritation vanishes when she notices the flowers on her desk. She turns to face me, her expression soft. "You got me flowers?"

  "And a blanket," I mutter. "I like it cold."

  "Thank you," she whispers.

  We stare at each other for a long, silent moment before I move toward her, slipping the purse off her shoulder to drop it on her desk. I tip her face up toward me so I can see her clearly. Her eyes are dark beneath even though she tried to hide the shadows with makeup.