Resisting You Not (Dirty Hot Resistance Series Book 5)

by Emelia Blair

  RESISTING YOU NOT

  EMELIA BLAIR

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  Copyright © 2020 by EMELIA BLAIR

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  1

  “So, what did you think?” I ask, loudly, looking into the rearview mirror and meeting my boss’s cool gaze.

  Caleb Starr may present a cold and calm exterior to the world but I have seen him at his worst, bleeding in the prison yard, as he ruthlessly attacked a man ten times his size. There’s nothing cold about the man but he has ambition and drive, something I have none of.

  “She doesn’t eat enough,” my friend responds, turning his gaze to the world passing us by.

  I wait for something else but he doesn’t offer any other information. I don’t know why it surprises me. Caleb’s always been a man of few words. Even when we shared a cell, he rarely spoke. We had been on good terms because when he had first arrived, I had looked out for him. But it had still been a surprise when he had been exonerated, one of the first things he had done was hire one of the best lawyers for me and get me out of prison. Then he had gone on to give me a well paying job and an apartment that we shared together.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

  “To Grayfeld Street. I want to look at whether they’ve furnished that penthouse.”

  “You’re sure going through a lot of effort for a childhood friend,” I comment.

  Caleb opens his laptop, not saying anything.

  So, I add, “If you ask me, women are just a lot of trouble. Better to keep them at an arm’s length.”

  “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion then,” Caleb retorts and then looks up. “Eyes on the road, Duke.”

  Duke, a name my mother gave me when I was born. She never gave me a surname, refusing to give me any link to the man who had sired me. She raised me to be respectful. A dark skinned boy who had roamed the streets with his friends while she cleaned toilets to put a roof over my head and some food on the table.

  She had been a good mother, a woman who’d tried to impart all her values to me. A woman who had bled to death in my arms because of one wrong decision I had made, and was the reason why I had gone to prison, avenging her death.

  “You’ll like Kendall,” Caleb says, not looking up from his work.

  I shrug. “I’m done with women. I’ve waited for the right woman for years and look where that got me.”

  Caleb snorts as we round the corner. “You won’t find them on the corner of the street after midnight.”

  I shut up at that.

  Caleb knows my past and while the scars on my heart have long since healed…I’ve never met a woman who can take my breath away. Seeing Caleb’s obsession with this woman from his past is a strange sight but I know she has always been the sole focus of everything he does. I have to wonder if he knows how deeply in love he is. He denies it, calling it ‘repaying a favor’ but I know a man in love when I see one.

  It’s a pity how the woman he’s fantasizing about was in the past. Who knows what she’s like now. Over these past few years, I can safely call Caleb my closest friend. I don’t want to see him hurt.

  As the car rolls up to the curb of the apartment building that Caleb owns, I sigh, “Well, let’s go see what the designers have done with the place.”

  It takes an hour’s inspection for Caleb to be satisfied and I still feel disbelief. “I can’t believe you bought an entire building just so you could give the penthouse to your girlfriend,” I call out from where I’m lazing on the couch, one arm thrown over the back, flicking through the channels.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” Caleb wanders into the room. “And this was the only building on sale that has a good view of the city. Also, I thought I told you to check the wiring.”

  I gesture towards the television with the remote, “The TV’s working.”

  Caleb just gives me a deadpan stare.

  I blink, not intimidated. “I don’t see why you’re doing a check for the apartment when you have people for that.”

  He doesn’t reply and just moves on.

  I know the guy has a list in his head and I roll my eyes, sinking deeper into the couch.

  Kendall is not as quiet as Caleb initially described her to be.

  The woman has sharp eyes and she takes in everything but when Caleb dragged her to the car to go shopping, she looked out of it.

  All, while my friend‒ who thinks talking is a waste of time‒ is speaking at her while she doesn’t respond.

  I have to wonder if he’s finally lost his mind when I see signs of awareness on the woman’s face as if she’s coming out of a daze or a long sleep.

  She’s kind of sweet and down to earth but I understand what Caleb meant when he said she looked malnourished. My job description is the designated chauffeur, so I drive them around as he feeds her and buys her clothes and shoes. I’ve never known the man to spend so much money in one day unless it was a business related thing but he’s splurging on the bewildered Kendall and I’ve never seen him look this satisfied since I’ve known him.

  The real issue comes‒ of course, when we get to her neighborhood‒ the place is one of the worst areas to live.

  I glance at Kendall before meeting Caleb’s gaze and giving a small nod.

  We’re going to have to be careful.

  She’s embarrassed. This much is obvious.

  She obviously has no idea that we’ve seen worse and experienced worse.

  Caleb, shifty bastard that he is, offers to carry her bags upstairs.

  Like hell, I’m going to let him go alone into that dingy looking apartment complex.

  He follows Kendall.

  I pick up everything else and feeling the comfortable weight of my gun against my back, I follow them upstairs. I hear them talking amongst themselves, a few steps from me and I hear a cry and the bags are dropping from my hands as I reach for the gun. Alarm bells are going off in my head when Caleb shows me his hands, his head shaking slightly.

  I see the glimpse of a naked child before I retreat down the steps to grab the bags I left. By the time, I enter the shabby looking apartment, I see a sulking child who’s carrying a wet towel in his hands while a red faced Kendall is explaining something to Caleb.

  ”Hey, kid.” I greet the boy.

  He looks up at me, his eyes widening.

  I’m used to this reaction, considering the number of hours I spend in the gym.

  “You have a lot of muscles!” The boy points at my bulging biceps.

  I grin, proudly. “You’ll get them too.” I wink at him. I’m a sucker for kids. Always have been. Sometimes, I think to myself that I would have made a great father. But then you always want what you don’t have.

  “Max, where’d you run off to?”

  A woman’s voice reaches my ears. It’s a throaty sound, sexy, and I look up to see a woman exiting a room and my mouth suddenly turns dry.

  She’s tall and tanned with curls fr
aming her face. The circles under her eyes don’t deter me from her beauty. Voluptuous curves, breasts that can fit easily in my hands, a round and perky ass, and a slim waist.

  She’s built like a goddess and I can do little more than stare at her.

  She sees me too and her face turns dark, and her voice turns sharp and protective, “Max, come here.”

  The boy trots off to her and she pushes him behind her, watching me warily. “You’re with him?”

  When she gestures towards Caleb, I nod, unable to find my words.

  “Max, go in the bedroom,” she orders, a fierce protectiveness emitting from her, and I have the urge to kiss those pouty lips. Her complexion is fair, a little flushed, perhaps, from whatever she’d been doing, but she’s one of those women who comes to you in a wet dream and drives you crazy.

  “I’m Duke.” I hold out my hand.

  She simply stares at it.

  I wonder if she’s put off by the prison tattoos on my bare arms.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I try again, this time a little desperately, “I’m Caleb’s friend.”

  “Why is he here?” she asks, abruptly.

  This isn’t a tone I usually hear when women are talking about Caleb and my lips twitch. “He wanted to help Kendall with carrying the bags up.”

  She stares down at the bags. “Kendall bought all this?”

  I nod.

  She toes one of the bags with her bare foot.

  I see there’s deep red nail polish on her toenails, a sexy color that drives me crazy. I stick my hands in my pockets, feeling both awkward and clumsy around this beautiful woman who’s watching me with a mixture of suspicion and wariness.

  It’s been more than five years since I was freed from what was considered to be a life sentence. While I haven’t exactly been a monk, all the women who have graced my bed have been one night stands. And that is why I chose them to begin with, both parties just looking for a little fun.

  Love isn’t for me.

  It scarred me once and I lost everything because of it.

  Which is why I cannot understand why Caleb has focused his everything on this one slip of a woman. She’s somewhat of a looker but despite their childhood link, it still seems like overkill. He could just as well have given her a stuffed bank account, some properties and called it even.

  I glance over at where he’s talking to Kendall, their voices low, she’s wearing a tight expression on her face and I wonder what he’s saying to her.

  “So, that’s Caleb Starr?” the woman before me asks.

  I wonder if it would be easy to talk her into bed. And then I remember the grinning child who resembles her.

  Is there a father in the picture?

  Or is she a single mother?

  Or are these two women…?

  My thoughts don’t go very far when the woman taps her foot on the ground. “Well, are you two planning to move in or something?”

  I bristle at her rudeness and I’m about to say something when I see the bags under her eyes. She looks exhausted. “Must be some work thing,” I lie and look around the small apartment. It’s not in the best shape but it’s well maintained. My eyes fall on a pink and white uniform which looks familiar, but I can’t place it. “So, you and Kendall are roommates?” I prod, finding myself intrigued with the tired looking woman who looks like she wanted nothing more than to kick us all out.

  “Yes,” her answer is abrupt and short.

  But I am undeterred. “How long have you two known each other?”

  “Long enough.”

  She’s not easy, this one. I shuffle my feet. “Mind if I have some water?”

  She studies me before her shoulders slump and she says, tiredly, “Sure.”

  I follow her into the tiny kitchen and she opens the fridge to take out a bottle of water to pour into a glass. The fridge is practically empty, nothing but a stick of butter in it, and two eggs.

  I don’t know why it reminds me of my childhood suddenly. More often than not, my mother would go to bed hungry, feeding me whatever was in the house. The memory is sharp and painful…I flinch as the memory washes over me.

  I take the glass and sip the water in an attempt to hide the conflicted feelings warring inside of me. “I didn’t catch your name.” I finally say.

  She lifts a brow at me. “I didn’t give it.”

  Her rudeness should put me off but I see it as more of a defensive maneuver and I can’t find it in me to be offended.

  It’s when I’m giving back the glass when her sleeve slips back and her thin wrist is revealed. The marks on her wrist are glaringly obvious and even as she hurries to cover them back up, I’ve already seen them.

  “What is that?” Something cold slithers within me on seeing bruises that have no place on women, covering her right wrist.

  “Nothing.” She sets down the glass and brushes past me.

  I stare after her, torn and attracted. While at the same time, I’m unable to understand why those bruises on her wrist infuriate me so much when I don’t even know this woman.

  2

  Tracy Williams.

  Finding out the name of Kendall’s roommate isn’t hard because contrary to my previous expectations, I really end up getting along with the woman Caleb is ensnaring. Kendall is funny and snarky.

  I note that my friend ‒the mostly silent Caleb who never shows his emotions‒ is completely smitten.

  Plus, she’s into sports. When we’re in the car together while she’s doing errands for Caleb, we talk about our favorite teams. It’s not hard to coax her into divulging details about her friend who I haven’t seen since that last encounter.

  “She usually works a true graveyard shift,” Kendall tells me as she studies the schedule in her lap. “They pay more if you work the late night hours.”

  I frown, recalling the bruises on her arm. Judging from Kendall’s tone, she isn’t aware of them. “Isn’t that unsafe?” I ask her.

  This has Kendall pausing before she continues, “She does what she can. But the minute she gets a catering gig, I’m telling you, Tracy will bring in the big bucks. Her food is to die for.”

  Even as she praises her friend, I can sense the disquiet within Kendall.

  I don’t have to ask her for the name of the place where Tracy works because I end up at a small diner, Al Caso, at three in the morning after a bout of insomnia drove me out of bed. There’s something about the quiet streets at night that really calms me down.

  The diner is a roadside stop for truckers mostly, with a neon sign buzzing on top of the small building. When I walk in, hoping for some greasy snack, I see a familiar looking woman clad in a uniform, wiping down the counter.

  There are two or three other customers sitting in their booths, one of them drunk, and Tracy hasn’t noticed me yet.

  She looks exhausted and paler than the last time I’d seen her. She also looks like she’s lost some weight although that could just be my own assessment. I approach the counter.

  She lifts her eyes and for a second, there is no recognition in her gaze. Then there is a flicker of awareness and she blinks. “Oh, hello.”

  Gone is the animosity from the first meeting and it’s a refreshing change, just to be honest.

  “Hey.” I take a seat at the counter. “Remember me?”

  She raises a brow. “Duke, right?”

  “Yep. And you’re Tracy Williams.”

  Her face pales for a minute before I add, “Kendall told me who you were.”

  “Oh…” She swallows and repeats as if for her own reassurance, “Kendall told you. Okay. What can I get you, Duke?”

  “What’s good here?” I ask, studying her form.

  She hands me a menu. “The chicken burger is good but I would recommend the steak with vegetables.”

  I pause before I smile. “I’ll take two.”

  “Two?” She runs her eyes over me, before asking, “You sure? It’s a pretty hefty serving.”

  “Oh, yeah.”
>
  She shrugs before approaching the window. “Janice, two steaks with the sides.”

  When she returns, Tracy asks, “Anything to drink? The coffee here is good but the milkshake is better.”

  “I’ll take the coffee for here and the milkshake to go.”

  She pours me one cup and then one for herself. I don’t say anything but she explains, “It keeps me awake.”

  “So, how long have you been working here for?”

  “Five months.” She sips the dark brew in her cup.

  “Do you always work at night?”

  “It pays well,” she tells me, leaning on the counter. She pauses for a few seconds, before saying honestly, “Sorry for kind of biting your head off back at the apartment. I had a bad day and suddenly, there are all these strangers in our home so…” She trails off.

  The apology is so honest that I can’t help but like her for it. “It’s okay. Kendall told me you’re a little protective of her.”

  She lets out a small laugh in that husky voice of hers. “What else did Kendall tell you?”

  Her laugh sends tingles down my spine. “That you’re her best friend and that she loves you.”

  Tracy blushes and it’s a beautiful color on her, as she mutters. “Sappy bitch.”

  I have to laugh at the comment. “She talks about Max a lot. I feel like I already know the kid.”

  Tracy goes still at the mention of her son and wariness appears in her eyes.

  I didn’t have any ulterior motives by bringing up her kid. After listening to how Kendall talks about Tracy, I have a lot of respect for the woman. She’s not like the women I usually bring to my bed and despite this burning attraction I have for her, I’m not going to go after a single mother. Her life seems to be tough already. I don’t want to add to it.

  Although, to stay true to this, I should have walked out of this diner when I first saw her. “My mother raised me on her own as well,” I tell her, the words seem forced out of me. “I have a lot of respect for single mothers.”