Hard Truth (The Alpha Antihero Series Book 4)

by Sybil Bartel

  Exactly. “Inside,” I ordered.

  She glanced across the road at the intracoastal, then around the yard. “Is this place for sale? There’s no sign out front.”

  I feigned irritation, but my heart was pounding, my dick was hard and I wanted this place to be fucking perfect. “Get inside, woman.”

  Eyeing me, she stepped across the threshold.

  Closing the door behind us, I walked into the empty house.

  “Oh wow,” my woman quietly whispered.

  She was right about what she had said earlier. One glance and I knew.

  “Tarquin… oh my God.” She walked to the sliders and looked out toward the ocean. “The view.” She glanced south then north. “You can see for miles.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from taking her up against the glass.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you buy this place?”

  I took in every inch of her face, looking for any sign that she wasn’t feeling it. “Do you want me to?”

  She turned to face me. “It’s for sale?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze dropped to my jeans. “Why are your hands in your pockets? Are you nervous?”

  “No.”

  Nodding slowly, she looked around at the living area that was five times the size of our current house. “How much?”

  “Does it matter?” It’d deplete a sizable chunk of my offshore account if I paid in full. But I still had some firepower sitting in an overseas storage unit that I’d left before coming back to the States after leaving the Army. If I got desperate, I could sell it.

  My woman half laughed, half let out a snort. “Of course it matters. You don’t buy what you can’t afford. Even I know that.”

  “We can afford it. Go look around,” I ordered.

  “Me go look around,” she emphasized the first word. “Why not you?”

  Already seeing enough, I tipped my chin toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Tell me what you think.”

  “I think it’s big and gorgeous and a whole lotta house.” She waved toward the kitchen behind me. “With a fancy kitchen and even fancier appliances I’ll undoubtedly have no idea how to use.”

  “You can learn.” The past few weeks, she’d been cooking for me and I’d been keeping my mouth shut as I choked down the same kind of shit she’d made back in the cabin. I didn’t tell her MREs were better than her Spam sandwiches.

  Her hands went to her hips, and her head tilted suspiciously. “You tellin’ me I don’t know how to cook?”

  “Go,” I ordered, nodding toward the hall.

  “Or?” Fighting a smile, her mouth twitched.

  I stepped toward her.

  Throwing her hands up with a grin, she took a step back. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”

  Pivoting in her biker boots, she took off down the hall.

  I checked out the kitchen, garage and a storage shed on the side of the house. I was coming back inside when I found her staring out at the view again. Walking up behind her, I put my hands on her hips.

  “It’s beautiful, Tarquin,” she whispered, her voice catching.

  I turned her around and found tears. “What’s wrong?”

  Quickly swiping at her face, she gave me a forced smile. “Nothin’.”

  Brushing her hair back, I grasped her cheek. “Do not lie to me.”

  “I ain’t lyin’. It’s perfect, really.” Averting her gaze, her voice dropped. “Fairy-tale perfect.”

  “But?”

  For a long moment, she didn’t look at me and she didn’t say anything. Stroking her cheek, I gave her the time, but I didn’t give her the space.

  I waited.

  Her throat moved with a swallow, and a tear slid down her face before she brought her eyes back to mine. “There’s five bedrooms.”

  I didn’t understand her strained whisper. “I know.”

  “Five,” she repeated.

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “Tarquin,” she quietly chided, pulling out of my grasp and trying to step away from me.

  Bracing my hands against the glass, I blocked her in. “Answer my question.”

  “Fine.” She threw her hands up. “This house needs kids, okay? Babies!” Her face contorted with grief. “And I ain’t gettin’ pregnant.”

  I pulled her into my arms. “The doctor said you could have children.”

  “Then why ain’t it happenin’?” Her voice hitched with a sob. “If everythin’s workin’, how come I ain’t pregnant by now? You knocked me up in half a second flat before.”

  “Give it time.” That’s what the doctor had said.

  Her face tearstained, she looked up at me. “What if it doesn’t happen? What do we need a five-bedroom house for?”

  “Is that why you dragged me to look at all those bullshit three-bedroom houses in gated communities because you thought we needed something small?”

  “No, I just…” She glanced around. “This is a lot of house.”

  It was the perfect house. “There’s a three-car garage where I can work on bikes or the SS. There’s a storage shed for tools. You can’t see any neighbors. The kitchen and bathrooms are new, so I don’t have to fuck with renovating anything, and you got an ocean view.” It was more than perfect.

  “And kids?” She bit her bottom lip.

  “I don’t give a shit what happens as long as I have you. We can adopt if you want to.”

  She let out a small laugh. “No one in their right mind would give us kids.”

  “I don’t care,” I enunciated.

  Tucking into me, she pressed her cheek against my chest. “I love you, Tarquin Scott. You always know the right thing to say.”

  Grabbing a handful of her hair, I pulled her head back so her eyes were on me.

  It was time.

  Past time.

  I gave her words I’d had no concept of before I’d crawled out of a swamp and laid eyes on a five-foot-nothing female a lifetime ago. “I love the fuck out of you, Shaila Hawkins.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped. “Tarquin,” she barely whispered.

  I wasn’t finished. “We’re getting the goddamn house. You’re taking my name. I’m putting a fucking cage around you because you drive like a hellion. And I’m going to take your sweet cunt and pound into you every day for the rest of our lives because you are mine.”

  “I…” Her voice caught. “We’re gettin’ married?”

  Did she not hear me? “Yes.”

  “With diamonds and a white dress and one of those fancy cakes with tiers?”

  Christ. “Yes.”

  A smile, pure and sweet, just like the girl seven years ago would’ve given me, spread across her face. “Why yes, Tarquin Scott, I will marry you, even though you’re ’bout as bad at proposin’ as any one man can get.”

  My hand went to her throat, and I brought my mouth a fraction above hers. “Don’t push me,” I warned, wanting the exact opposite.

  Her eyes softened, and her voice went submissive. “You said you love me.”

  My nostrils flared.

  “Fuck me rough,” she breathed.

  Spinning her around, I grabbed her wrists and threw her hands against the glass. Unbuttoning my jeans with one hand, I yanked her pants down with the other. “Tell me you want the house,” I demanded, fisting my cock.

  Arching her back, showing me her already wet cunt, she pushed her hips into mine. “I want it all.”

  I drove into her.

  The brunette behind the counter blinked. “Come again?”

  Fucking hell, I didn’t have time for this. I repeated myself. “I want seven diamonds.”

  “Seven diamonds,” she stated like she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Just… loose diamonds.”

  Jesus Christ. “I’m getting married.”

  Like a goddamn lightbulb went off, her face lit up with a smile. “Oh, you’re getting married. You want an engagement ring.” She nodded. “I can help y
ou with that.”

  “No,” I ground out. “I do not want an engagement ring.” I wasn’t fucking engaging in shit. I was getting goddamn married. “I want diamonds.” My woman had said she wanted diamonds, and motherfucking hell, she was getting diamonds.

  The brunette blinked again.

  Fuck this bullshit. “You got five minutes. Show me some goddamn diamonds and take my fucking credit card or stop wasting my time.”

  She flinched, but then she moved. “Right, right, okay. Yes, sir. Diamonds.” She moved to the end of the display case, reaching below it with shaking hands and a key that was tethered around her wrist. Fumbling three times before pulling out a black fabric-covered case, she rushed back over to me. “We usually reserve these for customers who prefer to design their own settings, but I believe this is what you are looking for.” She carefully opened the case and then opened a small pouch inside and laid out two dozen diamonds. “We can start by looking at the princess cut ones.”

  I reached for a medium-sized one that was square shaped on top.

  She pulled the case back. “I’m sorry, sir, but, um, we usually handle the loose diamonds. May I show it to you?”

  Fucking Christ, she thought I was going to steal them. I pointed at seven of them that were relatively the same size. “How much for all of these?”

  The brunette looked up at me. “You really want seven loose diamonds? Are you sure you don’t want them in a setting?”

  “How much?” I demanded.

  “Right, okay.” She moved the seven to the side and was quiet a moment like she was counting in her head. “Sixteen thousand, eight hundred dollars.”

  I reached in my pocket and slapped my credit card on the counter. “I want them in a black fabric bag like you had them in.”

  The woman looked blankly at me a moment. Then she took my card. “Of course.” Carefully putting the diamonds I picked in the bag and the rest away in the larger case before setting it back under the counter, she went to the credit card machine and swiped my card. “If you’ll give me a moment, I will get you the authenticity certificates for each diamond from the back.”

  “They real?” They’d looked real—not that I knew shit about diamonds.

  “Of course, sir. And we only sell conflict-free diamonds.”

  Whatever the fuck that meant. “I don’t need the certificates.” I needed to get home with the steaks my woman had sent me out for.

  “It won’t take but a minute.” The machine spit out a receipt, and she had me sign it.

  Twenty minutes later, I was walking into the new house with sixteen grand worth of jewels in my pocket and six giant steaks. Entering the kitchen through the garage, I was assaulted with country music blasting from the overhead speakers and my woman crying.

  Alarm hit.

  Dumping the grocery bag on the counter, my gaze swept over her body. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.” She brushed angrily at the tears on her face.

  “Shaila,” I clipped, taking her shoulders.

  She turned her back on me. “I said nothin’, I meant nothin’.” She threw her hands up. “Everythin’ in this whole dang house is perfect.”

  I scanned the mess of half-prepared food and open recipe books on the kitchen counters. “Company will be here in twenty.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped.

  I took inventory. Fuck, what a mess. Pushing my woman aside, I washed my hands, pulled out a fry pan, and started throwing some of the vegetables she’d cut up into it with olive oil. “Put the steaks in the fridge.”

  “What are you doin’? I’m doin’ this,” she complained. “Get out of here.”

  Ignoring her, I issued orders. “Get the potatoes in the oven. Grab the lettuce out of the fridge and get a big bowl.” I set the oven temperature.

  “Tarquin.”

  Turning the heat up under the vegetables on the stove, I glanced at her. “What?”

  Her hands on her hips, her hair coming out of the bun on top of her head, she looked both ready to cry again and pissed enough to take me out. “I said I’m cookin’.” She grabbed one of the cookbooks, waved it in my face, then threw it back down in disgust. “I’m sweatin’ the onions and juliennin’ the carrots, goddamn it.”

  I stared at her.

  “Do you hear what I’m sayin’?” she demanded, her anger ramping up. “I said, I’m doin’ the cookin’.”

  “Go get dressed,” I commanded.

  “I am dressed,” she yelled, throwing her hands up.

  I cracked a smile.

  “Tarquin Scott, you maddenin’, infuriatin’ Neanderthal.”

  “A Neanderthal who can cook,” I corrected. “Get dressed, woman. The company you invited will be here soon.”

  “Infuriatin’,” she repeated, spinning on her heel and aiming for the hall to the bedrooms.

  I watched her ass for three seconds, then I stirred the vegetables, threw the potatoes into the oven and grabbed the lettuce. By the time she came back, the salad was prepped and chilling in the fridge, the potatoes were baking and the vegetables were ready to go. I’d cleaned up the rest of the mess she’d made and was seasoning the steaks for the grill.

  “I’m still mad at you,” she clipped, pushing past me to get to the fridge.

  I grabbed her from behind and wrapped an arm around her waist as I brought my mouth to her neck. “Keep it up and I’ll fuck you on the counter.”

  A shiver went up her back. “You should be so lucky.”

  “Already was,” I reminded her, biting her neck. I’d fucked her on every surface in every room in the new house.

  She swatted at my hand. “Keep your hands to yourself for the next couple of hours.”

  “No.” I cupped her under her short-as-fuck dress.

  She let out a small moan. “You’re not gettin’ anywhere right now, so cut it out.”

  Pushing her thong aside, I slid a finger inside her sweet cunt. “Do I need to remind you who this belongs to?”

  Her small hands wrapped around my wrist, and she leaned into my stroke as she whispered, “We ain’t married yet.”

  “You think I’m going to let a piece of paper tell me who my woman belongs to?” I slid a second finger inside her.

  “No,” she groaned.

  “Tell me who you belong to,” I demanded.

  Words rushed out of her mouth. “I belong to you, only you.”

  “Remember that.” I stroked deep and circled her clit fast and hard because we didn’t have much time. “I want this tight cunt to come for me.”

  “Oh my God.”

  The doorbell rang.

  She jumped and tried to pull my hand out.

  “Come first,” I demanded.

  “Tarquin,” she scolded, breathless.

  Grasping her throat, I tilted her head back and slammed my mouth over hers. Working my hand hard and fast, I got what I wanted with three more strokes.

  Her cunt constricted around my fingers, her body shook and she groaned into my mouth.

  Sweeping my thumb over her clit one more time, I kissed her hard then withdrew my hand. “Go get the door.”

  “Sweet mercy,” she whispered, holding on to the counter. “I can’t move.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  I grabbed her hand and used it to squeeze my hard-as-fuck cock through my jeans. “If I answer the door, I’m telling them to go the fuck home.”

  She jerked her hand away. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’.” Straightening her dress, she aimed for the front door and muttered, “Why’d I invite ’em over?”

  “Good fucking question,” I called after her.

  “Behave,” she stage whispered before opening the door.

  The house filled with voices.

  Talerco, his woman and her kid, Luna, Kendall—I heard their exchanged greetings and I reminded myself that my woman had wanted to do this. For her, I’d put up with other people for a couple hours.

  “Nice house.” Kendall w
altzed into the kitchen. “Who’d you kill to get it?”

  Fuck my life. “You’re still on my shit list.”

  I hadn’t spoken to her since the day after the bullshit hair salon stunt she’d pulled. She’d called a dozen times until my woman had taken pity on her and answered. Then she’d taken my phone outside and they’d talked for half an hour. I didn’t know about what, and I didn’t fucking care. As long as my woman wasn’t upset and I didn’t have to deal with Kendall, I was calling it good.

  Kendall smirked. “Everyone’s on your shit list except Shaila.”

  “Your point?”

  Luna walked into the kitchen. “Nice place, Scott. Thanks for the invite.” Expression locked, he quickly scanned the open-plan layout. Then he held his hand out with professional courtesy, proving why he had one of the best security companies in the country.

  “It was all Shaila’s doing.” I didn’t invite him, but I did shake his hand because he’d found my woman.

  “What up, Ranger?” Always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, Talerco took a seat at the island next to Kendall. “How’s domestic life treatin’ you? Ready to go work for Patrol and shoot some shit up yet?” He reached around Kendall and slapped Luna on the shoulder. “Fifty bucks says Patrol’s already asked you.” Talerco chuckled.

  “I did,” Luna confirmed.

  “He told me I owe him,” I corrected.

  Talerco laughed. “Don’t we all?”

  Talerco’s woman, Nicole, walked into the kitchen with a reserved smile. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothin’, Siren.” Talerco reached for his woman. “Just hazin’ the boys.”

  Kendall snorted. “What else is new?”

  My woman came into the kitchen with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child in her arms. The small girl had her head resting on Shaila’s shoulder as she tightly held a stuffed animal, and for a beat, my breath fucking caught.

  “Oh sweet mercy,” my woman rasped, rubbing the back of the shy child. “I’m in love.”

  A hushed silence fell over the room as we all looked at them together.

  My woman stilled. Then her gaze cut from Nicole to Talerco to Kendall to me. “Why y’all lookin’ at me like that?”

  “Mama,” the child whispered, reaching for Nicole.

  Talerco looked pointedly at me.