Beautiful Soldier: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 3)

by E. M. Moore

  I spin, leaning against the door to look back at the dark prince before casually locking the deadbolt.

  “You look happy,” Johnny muses. He darts his tongue out to run across his lips in an almost mesmerizing way. “I wasn’t sure you’d look like that again after we got you back.”

  “Is that why you’re going along with my crazy ideas?” I throw out. “Or did you actually have fun tonight?”

  Honestly, the night couldn’t have gone better. We all sat around the table chatting like normal human beings. Johnny and Mag even talked about their younger days, even though talk of the Crew life came to a grinding halt. The particular story they were telling involved Brawler’s brother, so both guys were hesitant to finish it in front of him.

  “I have fun anywhere you are.”

  I stride forward, pushing my palm against his chest. “Talk to me,” I tell him, eyes begging him the whole time. I reach up to undo his tie, loosening it and pulling the fabric out of his collar before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. I don’t understand how he can wear a suit almost all the time.

  “You just want to know all my secrets...”

  “Is that so bad?” I challenge.

  He nips at my lip, dragging it through his teeth before it pops back to me.

  Fuck. I hadn’t meant this to go in a sexual direction. Honestly. Not that I fucking mind. “Don’t distract me,” I chastise. He grins. I take a step back, peering at him suspiciously. “You were trying to distract me?”

  “To be fair, you’re easily distracted around me.”

  I give him a teasing swat. “There’s your arrogance. I can’t say that I missed it.”

  “You fucking love it,” he says, letting me back him up until he hits the leather couch. He sits and pulls me after him onto his lap.

  I situate myself on top, playfully grinding over him—accidentally on purpose—until he’s squirming beneath me and nursing a semi. “You and Jiko seem to get along well. We can trust him?”

  Johnny settles his hands on my hips, stopping my movements. “Yeah, we can trust him. My dad and his dad have been friends for a long time. He’s my oldest friend, even though he lives far away. He also has to deal with the same stuff I do, you know?”

  I nod. “I wasn’t sure if we could talk freely around him,” I confess. “When we were talking about Brawler, I didn’t know if we could discuss our plan for how the fight should go down.”

  “That’s easy,” Johnny says with a quick lift of his shoulders. “You’re going to kick his ass.”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. Considering I’d come to the exact opposite conclusion, I don’t know how to react. “What happens if he loses?”

  “None of your concern. He brought it upon himself when he decided he wanted to fast-track it into the Crew.”

  I stare into Johnny’s ice-blue eyes. Despite the words coming out of his mouth, I detect a hint of hesitation on his side. He has to think of Manning when he sees Brawler. He’s just saying all this for me because Johnny would literally give up everything for me. “It is my concern,” I say. “Brawler’s not going to get hurt because of me.”

  Johnny’s jaw ticks, and he moves me off him. He stands, hands perching on his hips as he glares down at me. “So, you’re willing to let him beat the shit out of you, so he can get his way? That’s what you’re saying?” A chill creeps through me. It’s the sudden lack of him that’s the problem. Couple that with the daggers that are now being sliced through me, and I sit on the couch like a chastised child while he continues. “It’s not happening, Kyla. Brawler’s not going to touch you, and if he tries, I’ll—”

  I stop him before he can make that threat. I don’t want to hear it, and I don’t want him to put it out there either. He’s better than that. We’re better than that. “Your father did this. Not Brawler.”

  He gives me a look like he’s telling me to get real. “My father’s running the Crew like he always does. You think him making this fight was just a spur-of-the-moment decision? It wasn’t. He knows you’re friends. When people want into the Crew, we tear them down. We make sure they know the only family they have is the Crew family. You guys in the ring will show him what Brawler’s about. If he tries to take you out, he gets a plus sign in the Crew column. If he wusses out—if he phones it in—that’s all the information Dad needs to make his decision.” He glares at me. “The same goes for you, too. You need to fight for your own survival.”

  His words harden my bones. I get to my feet, not letting him glower over me any longer. “We can figure something else out.”

  Johnny shakes his head. “He won’t be satisfied until you’re both shedding blood out there. I let you have your little dinner. I didn’t kick his ass out, but from here on out, Brawler is not your friend.”

  Johnny turns, but I stop him in his tracks. “No.”

  He peers over his shoulder, his shocked gaze biting, as if threatening me to disagree. “No?”

  “No, Johnny. That’s not how this works. I care about Brawler, and I’m not going to just kick his ass and not give a fuck what happens to him. We can come up with another plan.”

  “He’ll kick your ass without a second thought.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Not bullshit,” Johnny growls. “That’s the way things happen here. It’s everyone for themselves.”

  “You have got to get that notion out of your head,” I growl right back. “That’s not how the real world works. Brawler’s upset we’re fighting. If you took two seconds to look at him, you’d see it written all over his face. He joined so he could help keep me safe just like you want to. He’s worried your dad might actually try to hurt me.”

  Johnny’s jaw ticks.

  “So, I’m not going to just turn around and screw him over before he screws me over first. I’d rather be wrong than do that to someone I care about.”

  Johnny turns, exploding. His hands ball to fists, and a ball of rage detonates from his chest in a scream that makes my heart stop. The tension in the thick air burns hot. Goosebumps skitter up and down my skin. He turns slowly. “You keep saying you care about him. What’s that mean, Kyla? You keep saying you care about all of them. What are you saying?”

  My heart wrestles for control in my chest. It’s hard to know if this is the right moment. I have to go with my gut. He’s asking me a direct question. If I lie to him now, it’ll hurt even worse when he learns the truth. I send a silent prayer that I’m not signing anyone’s death warrants and then turn pleading eyes to Johnny. “It means I like them,” I say, voice as even as it can be given the situation.

  He drags his gaze down me. My body flushes at his inspection. He moves forward with purpose. He’s so close his breath brushes over my nose. “Does he make you hot?” His hand moves to cup my mound before I can say anything. His finger works between my legs, stroking me. “Does he turn you on?”

  I moan.

  Johnny snakes his hand under my leggings, past my panties, and thrusts a finger into my wet heat. “Does he make you feel like this?”

  He pumps his finger in and out of me while his strong arm pins me to his side.

  “Johnny,” I gasp, trying to push him away, trying to wrangle my emotions under control. Out of everything that could’ve happened, this is not what I ever imagined.

  He removes his finger only to thrust two deep inside. A low mewl purrs from my throat. I grip the sides of his unbuttoned shirt, holding on as he drives his fingers in and out. It’s as if he’s battling for control over me. Like he thinks if he can do this it means he still has me. Maybe he’s caught on to the way I am with them. Maybe he’s seen right through me all this time.

  Or maybe he’s just being Johnny. The commandeering, demanding asshole he can be. Taking something from me I don’t want to give him right now.

  We don’t say anything as he drives me higher and higher, my breathing practically tumbling over from one breath to the next. He doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t give me secret, sweet thou
ghts. There’s nothing intimate about this moment.

  As much as I wish I could lock my body down and not give it what Johnny is demanding, it doesn’t happen.

  I spiral out of control, my core clenches around his fingers. He doesn’t even wait until I come down. At the first feel of my climax, he withdraws his fingers, leaving me swaying on my feet, my pussy clenching around nothing while I finish my orgasm.

  Without a glance back, he strides toward the door. “You’re winning, and that’s final,” he barks as he pulls my apartment door open. He walks out without looking back, slamming it behind him.

  I fall back onto the couch, tears pricking my eyes. Desperate loneliness crowds around me. I have no idea where we stand right now. What was that even? My instinct says it was a power struggle, but for what? Over me? Against me? Against them?

  I stay where I am for a few minutes, just staring blankly ahead, not knowing what to do. I could go after him. But should I?

  What he did was wrong regardless if my body liked it or not.

  I groan, and a soft knock sounds on the door, snapping my head to attention.

  I don’t bother getting up, and I don’t have to either. My phone buzzes on the table in front of me. It’s from Mag, telling me he’s coming in.

  He must have a key to my door too because after a moment, he steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

  I don’t look over. I’m sure I already know what this is about. Johnny left, but he sent Magnum to watch me.

  “You guys argued?”

  “I guess?” I answer, lifting one shoulder helplessly. I still don’t really know what it was. “He told me I had to beat Brawler, and I told him I wasn’t going to do that.”

  Magnum bites down on his lip and then brings his phone out.

  I eye him. “What are you doing?”

  “Warning Brawler in case he goes over there.”

  Shock races through me. I get to my feet. “You think he’s headed over there?”

  Mag puts his phone away and looks at me. “I don’t know what he’ll do, Kyla. Sending Brawler a warning is the smart thing to do though.”

  I shake my head. “This was supposed to show Johnny what the real world is like. Somehow, it fucking backfired on me.”

  “Maybe it did show him,” Mag says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe it did, and it scared him. No one said this was going to be easy.”

  “But what’s he going to do?” I ask. “Lash out? If he goes to Brawler’s, what the hell is he going to do to him? If he hurts him—”

  “Brawler can handle himself,” Mag says, trying to soothe me.

  I know the guy can, but that doesn’t mean that the son of the most powerful man in the Heights could be on the way to his place right now.

  “He’s probably not headed that way, okay?”

  I bear down on my teeth. “Now you’re just saying that to patronize me.”

  He pushes me further away so he can look at me. “For the record, it’s been a while since I’ve looked at you like a girl, so patronizing isn’t the word for it. I’m—”

  “So, you’ve finally realized my past and maturity level makes up for our age difference?”

  His face heats. He drags his gaze down me, firing my skin up in a delicious way that melts away the feelings Johnny just invoked. “What age difference? I see a brave, sexy as fuck woman who has too many crosses to bear.”

  I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, emulating the woman Mag thinks he sees. I need my strength now more than anything. I take several breaths. “I’m not beating Brawler in the fight. He needs to beat me to keep him safe.”

  He frowns. “I was worried you were going to say that.”

  “Tell me another way this works out,” I beg. I’m desperate for another option. I don’t want to do this.

  “Short of having you fight someone else, I don’t see a way out of it. The problem is that it has to be convincing. I’m worried you could get seriously hurt on top of the injuries you already have, and I worry Brawler won’t be able to do it.”

  “Leave Brawler to me,” I say. “What I really need help with is convincing Johnny. He can’t hate Brawler right now. Johnny’s going to need all of us when his life implodes, and that’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

  I hope I’m right. Pushing Johnny into this could be forcing him right back toward his father. But he’s come so far. He’s opened up to me. He’s told me about his past. He hasn’t hurt me in a long time. He’s done everything he can for me.

  “You know him better than anyone...” I start. “Tell me he’ll end up on our side. Tell me he won’t do anything crazy.”

  “Anything crazy?” His eyebrows rise. “No one can promise that when it comes to Johnny Rocket.” He worries over his lip. “Whatever just happened in here, scared you, didn’t it?” His gaze hardens. “Did he hurt you?”

  I swear his hand twitches toward his back where he usually keeps his gun. “He didn’t,” I say, leveling my voice as much as I can. He didn’t hurt me physically, but as always, there’s more than one way to hurt someone.

  Sure, he brought me to orgasm, but it wasn’t in a way that told me he even wanted to. It was about control. It wasn’t about the act. Hell, it wasn’t even hate fucking. At least then, you’re fucking your aggression out. The way he left afterward said it all.

  “Did he tell you he’d be back tonight?” I ask, not able to help how needy I sound.

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Then I want to go to his apartment,” I tell Magnum. If Johnny is upset—if I’ve pushed him too far—I don’t want him retreating into other habits he might have had before.

  Mag nods, and he takes me up through Security. The guards just off the elevator nod at us as we walk by, and when I knock on the door, Johnny doesn’t answer.

  Thankfully, Mag doesn’t make me wait out in the hallway like a thrown-out piece of trash. He lets me into Johnny’s place with a key of his own, and I walk toward the bedroom.

  “Kyla?” Mag calls out, the desperate tone in his voice makes me turn to face him. “If Johnny doesn’t choose you, he’s the dumbest man alive.”

  I smile at his compliment, then retreat into the back, slipping under Johnny’s covers in his empty bed, relishing in the fresh sheets that still have that little hint of him on them.

  Maybe I’ve gone completely mental. Someone on the outside might say I’ve lost my shit. They might even say I have some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. My answer to them would be a giant middle finger in their face.

  I know someone who deserves to be fought for when I see it. We already promised we wouldn’t run away from each other’s secrets, which includes this. So, yeah, when Johnny gets back tonight, he’s going to find me waiting for him. And if he ever does it again, I’ll be in the same fucking place because Johnny never had anyone who fought for him, and for once in his life, he fucking deserves it.

  24

  The next thing I know, a door sounds as if it’s being torn off its hinges. A guttural curse whips through the air, making tiny hairs stand up all over my body. Ragged breaths fill the room as I jolt up in bed at being woken up like a bomb went off in the apartment.

  Johnny stands in the doorway to his room. The door bounces against the wall and returns to hit him in the shoulder. He’s not even aware of it. He’s staring at me with wide-eyed confusion, apprehension, and relief mixing into one intense gaze.

  His clothes sit askew. His shirt is all the way unbuttoned, lying open in a crooked mess. His jacket is nowhere to be seen and more than a few wrinkles mar his perfectly tailored pants.

  Johnny strides toward the bed with authority. I just stare at him, not backing down, but sitting up straighter as he approaches.

  He drops to his knees by the bed, his hands gripping the side of the mattress with such force that his knuckles turn white. “I thought you left.” His voice is surprisingly less hostile now that his previous curse has increased the tension in the room tenfold.

>   “I was waiting for you,” I tell him. “I didn’t like the way we left things.”

  His heated eyes blaze with a fire hotter than the earth’s core. If I were a lesser person, I’d be consumed by flames right now, combusting from the inside out until I was a pile of ash in front of him.

  He crawls into bed next to me, and I move back to make room for him. He doesn’t let me move too far though. He pulls me to him. His whole body shakes in wild tremors that seep into my skin until I’m gripping him, hoping I can make us both stop.

  “I just tore apart your rooms,” he breathes. “I destroyed everything inside it. I thought you’d finally had enough and left. I thought you walked away like I told you to. I thought—”

  I tighten my grip, my head resting against his thumping chest. “I told you I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “I pushed you away. I think I was trying to provoke you.”

  “You’ll have to do a hell of a lot more than that to push me away, Johnny Marx.”

  Like the masochist I am, Johnny pulls me back under his spell. He feathers kisses over my hair, his hand gripping my head to his chest is almost painful, but I understand the need to be close. He wants me near. Closer than this even. If he could, he’d probably consume me.

  As for me, I’d rather wipe away the mess that happened between us earlier. The old him crept in. I have no doubt it’ll happen again as he struggles internally with what he’s learned his whole life and what he knows now, but he can restrain it.

  “Babe,” he breathes. “I need you.”

  He winds his hand under my shirt, reaching up to palm my breast over my sports bra. He teases my nipple until it peaks at his touch.

  I lean on my forearm at the same time he does, meeting in the middle as we kiss each other greedily. Bruising, punishing kisses that I have no doubt he doesn’t mean, but have me yanking his shirt off his shoulders and my fingers shaking as they work on the clasp of his suit bottoms.

  He takes my hand and puts it on his hard cock right through the thin material. He pumps his hips forward, gasping in my mouth. I give him a quick squeeze before I’m tugging his pants and boxers down to free his cock.