Wild War

by Laurelin Paige

  Contents

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Foreword

  1. Jolie

  2. Cade

  3. Cade

  4. Cade

  5. Cade

  6. Cade

  7. Jolie

  8. Jolie

  9. Cade

  10. Jolie

  11. Cade

  12. Cade

  13. Jolie

  14. Cade

  15. Jolie

  16. Cade

  17. Cade

  18. Cade

  19. Cade

  20. Jolie

  21. Cade

  22. Jolie

  23. Cade

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  Copyright © 2021 by Laurelin Paige

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  Paige Press, LLC

  Leander, Texas

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  ISBN: 978-1-953520-31-9

  Editing: Erica Russikoff at Erica Edits

  Proofing: Michele Ficht, Kimberly Ruiz

  Cover: Laurelin Paige

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Visit my website for a more detailed reading order.

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  Dating Season

  Spring Fling | Summer Rebound | Fall Hard

  Winter Bloom | Spring Fever | Summer Lovin

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  Also written with Kayti McGee under the name Laurelin McGee

  Miss Match | Love Struck | MisTaken | Holiday for Hire

  The Dirty Universe

  Dirty Filthy Rich Boys - READ FREE

  Dirty Duet (Donovan Kincaid)

  Dirty Filthy Rich Men | Dirty Filthy Rich Love

  Dirty Games Duet (Weston King)

  Dirty Sexy Player| Dirty Sexy Games

  Dirty Sweet Duet (Dylan Locke)

  Sweet Liar | Sweet Fate

  (Nate Sinclair) Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Dirty Wild Trilogy (Cade Warren)

  Wild Rebel | Wild War | Wild Heart

  Man in Charge Duet

  Man in Charge

  Man in Love

  Man for Me (a spinoff novella)

  The Fixed Universe

  Fixed Series (Hudson & Alayna)

  Fixed on You | Found in You | Forever with You | Hudson | Fixed Forever

  Found Duet (Gwen & JC) Free Me | Find Me

  (Chandler & Genevieve) Chandler (a spinoff novella)

  (Norma & Boyd) Falling Under You (a spinoff novella)

  (Nate & Trish) Dirty Filthy Fix (a spinoff novella)

  Slay Series (Celia & Edward)

  Rivalry | Ruin | Revenge | Rising

  (Gwen & JC) The Open Door (a spinoff novella)

  (Camilla & Hendrix) Slash (a spinoff novella)

  First and Last

  First Touch | Last Kiss

  Hollywood Standalones

  One More Time

  Close

  Sex Symbol

  Star Struck

  Written with Sierra Simone

  Porn Star | Hot Cop

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  One

  Jolie

  Past

  * * *

  I dropped my highlighter at the slam of a car door, perking my ears for more tell-tale sounds of my father’s arrival. I’d barely been able to concentrate on my Advanced Biology textbook, and the dread of being unprepared began to turn solid like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Daddy would quiz me on the reading, and with him, the only acceptable option was to have the right answers.

  There was no exception for special occasions like today. He hadn’t even acted like there was anything out of the ordinary about his trip to Bradley International. As if he went to pick up a new member of the household every day.

  My window faced the backyard, so I couldn’t see the car, and even if I could, the smart thing would be to stay at my desk and focus on my homework until I had it memorized instead of peeking out. Years of living alone with a cruel man had taught me well to make wise choices; had taught me the consequences of choosing otherwise.

  It had also inspired a rebellious streak that dared walk an often dangerous line.

  I eased my chair out from my desk, quietly so the legs wouldn’t screech across the wood floor, and tiptoed to my bedroom door. He hadn’t locked it before he’d left for the airport. Before Carla, he would have. It was one of the first things that had changed when my stepmother had moved in four months ago, a sign that he might be different with someone else in the house.

  That hope had been short-lived. Things had gotten easier, at least. His attention wasn’t always on me. He noticed less the rare times that I fell out of line.

  What would he be like now that our household of three was going to be four?

  As I eased the door open, I told myself that was the main reason behind my intrigue—it was about self-preservation. Nothing more.

  But the truth was, I was deeply curious about Carla’s surprise son. I’d only found out about him after she’d officially taken the title of wife. I wasn’t clear when my father had learned about him—before or after they’d gotten married—but it had definitely been he who’d insisted on bringing him to live with us now, two weeks into the new school year. So he could win points with his new bride, I imagined. Or so he could show off how transformative his methods of education could be. Or so he could have himself a whipping boy.

  It certainly wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart. He didn’t seem to have one.

  Outside my room, I crossed to the balcony and stooped down to peer between the rails. Even on my knees, I could only see the bottom of Carla’s body as she stood at the front door, her back pressed to it to hold it open.

  “Why didn’t you park in the garage?” she called out. She had to know by now that my father rarely parked in the garage unless it was winter, but that didn’t stop her from the occasional nag.

  Not for the first time, I wondered how long my father would let that go on before he put a stop to it. For now it seemed they were still in the honeymoon period.

  If he answered her, I couldn’t hear it, and I was more interested in the boy who followed my father in, heaving a large duffel bag along with him.

  “Hey,” Carla said, stopping him before he’d walked in far enough for me to see more than from his waist down. She let the door go so she could cross to him. “Aren’t you going to say hello to me?”

  He dropped his duffel, and i
t landed on the floor with a plop. “Hello, Carla.” His tone was bitter, his voice deeper than most of the guys at school with a subtle rasp. Warm, though. A much different timbre than my father’s whose tone was clipped and hollow.

  “That’s not how you talk to your mother.”

  I tensed. My father rarely issued warnings.

  The boy couldn’t know that, though, and he smarted off again. “I didn’t realize I still had a mother.”

  I could tell from Carla’s shaky sigh that he’d hit her where he meant to, but before she had a chance to say anything, I heard a distinct thud that I recognized as the sound a hand made when struck against the back of someone’s head.

  “I won’t say it again, Cade. In our home, you treat your elders with respect.”

  I shivered. That rule had been beaten into me, and it was now evident it would be beaten into this boy too. I’d been pretty sure that was why Daddy had told Carla he was going alone to pick up her son, so he could inform him of How Things Would Be in the Stark House on the way back.

  Apparently, Cade hadn’t quite gotten the message.

  He would. Just not yet. “I apologize, sir,” he said with dripping sarcasm. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a real home, I guess I forgot my manners.”

  I saw my father’s feet as he lurched for Cade, but this time Carla stepped in between them. “He’s had a long trip, Langdon. He’ll be better after he gets settled.”

  Keep your mouth shut.

  I didn’t know if I was thinking it for myself or for Cade. Despite being a flight away, I could feel him warring with himself not to say more, the same way I was fighting not to speak up in his defense.

  It would only make things worse, I reminded myself. I was positive that even Carla’s interference would have consequences, if not now then later.

  A tense beat passed before my father backed down. “You can get settled then. Upstairs. First room you come to. The door should be open. I expect a new attitude when you arrive down here for dinner, which will be at six thirty sharp.”

  It was my cue to go back to my room, but I still hadn’t caught Cade’s face, and I thought maybe as he bent to reach for his duffel, I might catch a glimpse…

  But he was too fast, grabbing the bag in a hurried swoop and then bounding up the stairs two at a time. He was at the top by the time I’d managed to scramble to my feet, and the second our eyes caught, I froze in place.

  Because first of all, Cade Warren was not a boy.

  Not like the boys I knew anyway. He was on the thin side, but he was broad, and he had scruff along his chin that actually looked capable of being a full beard. His jaw was chiseled and his cheekbones defined, and with his height, he could easily have passed for a senior in college rather than in high school. No, he wasn’t a boy at all. He was a man.

  And second of all, the real reason his intense stare had me pinned to my place was because Cade Warren was hot.

  Generally, looks weren’t something I noticed. I flirted and messed around with plenty of the guys at school, but that was always about me more than it was about them. I’d never really been interested. I’d never encountered one who made my heart speed up or my tummy flip or made me forget how words worked, and maybe it was simply because of the circumstances—me, caught spying; him, a stranger moving into the room down the hall—but looking at Cade made all three of those things happen, and now I was frozen and stammering and on the verge of a panic attack.

  Plus, I was still wearing my school uniform—Daddy hated wasteful changes of clothes—and my lips were dry, and my hair was falling out of the ponytail I’d put it in that morning, and though he was in worn jeans and had been traveling all day, he looked a thousand times better than I did, even on my best days.

  But despite me being nothing to look at, he was looking. Looking very intensely. Staring into me, and for the briefest of seconds, I was sure he could see all of me. All the lonely parts. All the dark parts. All the secret parts.

  I wasn’t sure if that made me feel comforted or scared.

  “You’re Julianna,” he said. Not a question. I’d always hated the formal sound of my name, but I didn’t mind it when he said it.

  “You’re Cade.” Daddy and Carla were no longer standing in the foyer below, but I spoke only loud enough to be heard down the hall. I hadn’t lost sight of the fact that I was supposed to be doing homework, and even if my father was distracted by Cade, I knew shirking my responsibilities wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  After the words were out, I wished I’d been even quieter. Wished he hadn’t been able to hear me at all. You’re Cade. Great response, Julianna.

  Idiot.

  He didn’t react to my lame attempt at communication, seemingly more concerned with getting his bearings. “That your room?” He pointed his chin toward the door behind me. I nodded. “This mine?” He gestured now to the room in front of him.

  I nodded again.

  Now he looked toward the bathroom. “That just for me?”

  Another nod. “I have my own.”

  He eyed the distance between us, thirty feet of hallway that passed by the bathroom and a guest room and a linen closet. “Plenty of space. You’ll have no reason to get in my way.”

  With three steps, he was in his room, the slam of his door reverberating in the air.

  I winced. Partly because Daddy didn’t like slamming doors.

  Mostly because Cade’s remark had stung.

  I didn’t know there were pains that could hurt anymore. I’d grown numb to the slap of a hand. My mind went somewhere else during my father’s darker tortures. But this—this I felt.

  Maybe I’d thought there could be a camaraderie between us, me and this stranger. He could have helped carry the burden of living in the Stark household.

  He could have made me finally feel less alone.

  Stupid me. What was he possibly going to change? He wasn’t here to save me. He wasn’t a hero. He was only my stepbrother.

  Two

  Cade

  It took me less than twenty minutes to unpack, and that included going through the new uniforms that had been left on the bed and tossing the bag in the trash. Once upon a time, I’d owned more than could fit in an oversized duffle, but that was all I’d brought when my mother had dropped me off at Stu Goodie’s house a little more than a year ago. I would have packed more if I hadn’t been told I was only staying through the weekend.

  Sometimes I wondered about the items that I’d lost in my mother’s abandonment. Most were clothes I’d grown out of anyway, but there’d been a few things I’d cared about. The Nintendo Gameboy. A stack of Tom Clancy books. The keychain rabbit’s foot that I’d had since I was five.

  Well, they hadn’t been waiting for me in this bedroom, which meant they were gone for good. I knew that without even asking.

  A renewed sense of anger spiked through me as I slammed a dresser drawer shut. Why had I even bothered unpacking? Like hell was I staying.

  I stormed out of the room and down the stairs and was grateful to find my stepfather nowhere in sight. Carla was easy enough to find. There was still twenty minutes before dinner, and having pegged Langdon Stark as a traditionalist the minute I laid eyes on him, I was sure she couldn’t be anywhere else but the kitchen.

  I followed the scent of baked ham and found her bent with an electric hand mixer over a bowl of potato chunks. Her expression hardened when she saw me, but she only spared me a glance before turning her focus back on her meal.

  “Tell me again why I couldn’t stay in Kentucky?” I circled around the kitchen island so that I could face her but still have a barrier between us when we did.

  A physical barrier. There were plenty of less tangible ones already.

  “Because I’m here,” she said without even a pretense of patience. “And because you’re my son.”

  “So?”

  Any response she gave would be a trap, and she knew it. “I don’t have time for ridiculous conversations, Cade.”


  “The only thing that’s ridiculous about it is you trying to suggest that parents should be with their children.”

  She set down the mixer with a thump. “I wanted to be with you. I’ve told you why I couldn’t be.”

  “Actually, no. You haven’t. But no need. I get that it was easier to catch your next man without a kid weighing you down.”

  “I was trying to build a better life for us. And I did. Look around you. We never had this type of security before. We never had the life that Langdon provides.” She went back to her cooking, throwing the beaters in the sink then turning to stir the gravy on the stove.

  I took a moment to sweep my eyes over the gourmet kitchen. It wasn’t as fancy as the ones that were in the houses in the Parade of Homes shows she used to drag me to, but it was certainly way above anything we’d had in the past. Shit, we’d never even owned a dishwasher when we’d been on our own.

  The reality, though, was that we were never on our own for very long. And the men that were with us in between never stayed.

  Granted, none had ever put a ring on her finger like this one had.