The Stone Brothers: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  “Ethan Stone,” Mrs. Buttermaker’s raspy voice reprimands him. “What on earth did you do to that sweet little girl?”

  “Nothing more than what she’s done to me, Mrs. B. Nothing more than what she’s done to me.”

  I hear a splash in the pool, putting an end to their conversation.

  What I’ve done to him? I’ve done nothing to him.

  I pick myself up off the floor and head to the shower, hoping to make a quick exit before Mrs. Buttermaker can corner me and be all motherly and shit. I don’t need to talk about him. I need to forget about him.

  On my way through the gym, I run into Devon getting on a treadmill, and just to spite Ethan—even though he can’t see me do it—I say hello. “Hey, Devon.”

  He looks at me and then looks quickly around the gym. “Hi,” he says, putting his earbuds in before turning away from me.

  Okay then. Geez, I know I was kind of a bitch to him the last time we talked, but wow—that was cold.

  Heading out the front door, I remember last night’s plans involving something about swimming and tequila. Plans that were thwarted by he who will not be mentioned.

  I stop at the corner store and pick up a bottle on my way home. When I get to the apartment, my door is unlocked. I cautiously open the door, relieved to see Piper standing in my kitchen. She walks out carrying two drinks. Margaritas.

  I pull the bottle I just purchased out of the bag, show it to her and say, “Sometimes I swear we share the same brain.” I laugh, taking the drink from her and downing half of it quickly. “How did you know I’d even be here?”

  “Well, you know about two people here, me being one of them. All of my sisters are accounted for. And I called the gym to ask if they’d let me know when you left. They also happened to tell me that you didn’t leave with the hot P.I., so I thought it was a good opportunity to come over and catch up. It’s been days since we’ve spoken and I’m dying to find out what happened yesterday. Skylar told me about your dad showing up and then Ethan and the limo. So, come on, sister. Spill.”

  I take another drink of my margarita, wondering where to even begin. It’s been a while since Piper and I have had a real heart-to-heart. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed her. But I’m not sure I’m ready to spill all my secrets about Ethan. About what he does to me. How I feel about him. How it hurts so badly.

  She tugs on my arm, pulling me over to the couch. She points to an overnight bag on the floor. “I’ve got all night. I'm here as long as it takes. We can have a sleepover. It’ll be just like old times.”

  I close my eyes and remember all the nights we spent talking until dawn. You would think even best friends would eventually run out of things to say after six or seven hours of talking. We never did. Not one time. I smile and motion to her bag. “Did you bring them?”

  She rolls her eyes. “What do you think? Of course I brought them.”

  “Good,” I say, bouncing up off the couch to go to my bedroom.

  I rip off my clothes and dig through my dresser until I find what I’m looking for. Then I quickly put them on and join Piper in my living room.

  We squeal in delight when we see each other wearing our matching long-john pajamas we bought from a street vender in Dubai about four years ago. That very same night, we put them on and stayed up all night talking. It was one of the best nights I’d ever had. We drank. We laughed. We dreamed. We may have even healed a little.

  The next day, we surmised that the pajamas had magical powers, so from that day forward, anytime one of us needed to have a good talk, we’d pull them out and put them on.

  My soul sister—the person who knows me better than anyone on this earth—she knew I’d need to talk after hearing about the visit from my dad. And she’s the only one who really knows what happened to me, so she’s the only one I can ever talk to.

  Secrets are lonely.

  I make us another round of drinks and then I tell her mine.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It’s Monday and once again, I’ve got too much time on my hands. Yesterday, I went to brunch at the Mitchell’s restaurant on Long Island. They have brunch together as a family every Sunday. I’ve begged off the past few, but as Piper did spend the night Saturday, I had no choice but to be dragged by her to this latest one. I was just glad it wasn’t at the Maple Creek location. The original Mitchell’s restaurant. The one where I grew up waitressing—in the town to which I vowed I’d never return.

  Time is really not your friend when you have a lot on your mind. The idle brain has a way of taking small problems and turning them into big ones. Big ones such as what am I going to do tonight at the gym? It didn’t go very well on Saturday. It hurts to see him. Physically hurts, like in the pit of my stomach and in the wall of my chest.

  My phone pings with a text and when I look at it, the pain shoots through me like an arrow.

  Stone: Can you come by the office? I have some more information for you. Or if you’d rather, I’ll bring it to the gym.

  Come by the office? Hardly. And I haven’t decided if I’ll be at the gym yet. I do know I need space. Space from him. Maybe he can just leave the stuff at the front desk and I can pick it up from Gretchen.

  Ugh. The thought of seeing her makes me wince. Especially if she has any idea her boss bailed on me Saturday night. I’d never see the end to her gloating. No, that won’t work.

  He could leave it at the gym. I’m sure one of the guys or the front desk staff would hold onto it for me.

  I stare at his text wondering what to say when it dawns on me.

  Why can’t he just email me the information? We are living in an age where meetings have all but become obsolete. In fact, why hasn’t he just emailed me everything all along?

  Me: Is there some kind of rule that says you can’t email me this information?

  Stone: Rule?

  Me: Yes. Rule. And if there isn’t one, why haven’t you been emailing me this stuff all along?

  Probably because he gets more billable hours if he takes meetings in person.

  Stone: I prefer to meet with clients face to face for the most part. No, there’s no rule.

  Me: Then email it to me please.

  There is a long pause before my phone pings again. I can only imagine what is going through his mind. Maybe that he won’t be able to charge me as much. Maybe that I’m sick of him playing with me whenever it suits him. Maybe that he’s an arrogant asshole who doesn’t deserve a freaking girlfriend.

  Stone: I’ll have Gretchen send it right over.

  Me: Thanks.

  An hour later, I wonder what could possibly be taking so long. I pick up my phone to text Ethan when an email from Gretchen arrives, and suddenly I’m staring at the contact information for Morgan Tenney. Acid burns my throat when I think of what he did to me.

  I know there is a journal entry about him. A detailed one that was so vile, I couldn’t even read it in its entirety. My mother obviously wrote it when she was jacked up on something. Didn’t she ever re-read her entries when she was sober and realize what a monster she was?

  I don’t dare read it now. I might be tempted to get the gun that is hidden under my extra bed sheets in the linen closet.

  The gun that is part of the one secret I didn’t tell Piper. No one knows about the list. No one except Ethan. And he doesn’t really know about it.

  I enter Tenney’s address into my phone and I conclude it’s not in such a bad part of town. I throw on my requisite hoodie and grab a baseball cap from my closet. Then I head to the subway. I’m so nervous, I get on two wrong trains before I get back on track and end up at the correct station.

  For some reason, my skin prickles. It’s been doing it the whole time. Like someone is watching me. I look around, half expecting to see Morgan Tenney, who’s somehow figured out I was out to get him. Suddenly, I’m uneasy about what I’m doing. Maybe I’m not as safe as I think I am. Riding the subway, I take notice of everyone in the car with me. I once read that if you make eye co
ntact with people, you are less likely to be accosted.

  One man in the corner has on a baseball hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses—despite the fact that we are mostly underground. A few of the afternoon riders look like students skipping school. There are several young mothers with children in strollers who look like they are heading out to Central Park for the day. Businessmen and women intermingle, and there are a couple of homeless people in baggy clothing and stocking caps.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out a few dollars to hand to each of them as I get off at my stop. I remember what it was like to be homeless. No, I never had to sleep on a train to get warm, but there were a few nights I wasn’t sure Piper and I would have a roof over our heads. It came down to strangers lending a hand every time. So even if I can’t afford it—even if I’m down to my last dollar—I’ll always try to help those who are less fortunate. It’s sad to even think about it. What I went through; what Piper endured—there will always be someone else who had it worse.

  I walk a few blocks until I find the building I’m looking for. It’s a secure building. One you have to get buzzed into by a resident. I know the drill. I start punching in apartment numbers until someone buzzes me in. Making my way up to the third floor, I hear someone else come through the front door followed by the yelling of several residents out their doors for people to quit fucking punching in numbers. Someone must have done it behind me. I used to live in a building like this for a time. It really does get annoying.

  I arrive at apartment 318. I tuck my hair up into the ball cap and roll up the sleeves of my hoodie. I take a few deep breaths before banging on the door, and then I move out of the way of the peephole.

  No answer. I bang again.

  I think I see movement at the end of the hallway, scaring me half to death, but when I turn my head and stare, I see nothing. Now I’m just imagining things. I knock on the door one last time, this time not bothering to hide my face.

  Frustration sets in. All I want to do is get this over with.

  I hear a woman’s voice as footsteps climb the stairs. “You shouldn’t be here. Who let you in?”

  I freeze. She’s not talking to me, but to someone in the stairwell. My heart pounds. Is it Morgan? Does he know I’m here? Was he waiting for me to leave?

  I race to the opposite end of the hall, find another stairway, and almost break my neck descending the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. I race across the street and duck into a coffee shop. I slip into a booth by the window and train my eyes on the two possible exits of the building I just vacated.

  Not twenty seconds go by when a man exits. It’s one of the homeless men I gave money to on the train. What?

  He looks up and down the street and then pulls a cell phone from his pocket. A cell phone?

  He makes a quick call and then removes his cap and fake beard.

  Son of a bitch!

  I storm out of the coffee shop and run across the street, narrowly escaping the bumper of a yellow cab in my haste to get there.

  “What the fuck, Levi? Why are you following me?”

  His head falls back in defeat and he looks at the sky, cursing silently.

  “Did Ethan tell you to follow me?”

  He gives me that look. That I-plead-the-fifth look.

  “Shit,” I say, storming off down the street. I hail a cab and am just about inside it when he calls after me.

  “Charlie, wait!”

  I give him a one-finger message to relay to his boss as my cab passes him by.

  I angrily spew out the address to the cabbie and then apologize to him for my crassness before I ask him to please drive faster.

  Arriving at my destination, I throw a twenty at him, leaving him way too big a tip, but not wanting to hang around for change. I run through the building and get a few nasty looks when I skirt by some people waiting to get on the elevator. “Emergency,” I say, out of breath.

  The elevator can’t get to the ninth floor fast enough. I swear it stops at every goddamn floor. When it finally opens, I dart through the main door into the reception area. “I need to see him,” I tell Gretchen. “Now.”

  She tilts her head at me and gives me an amused smile. “I’m sorry, do you have an appointment?”

  “You know I don’t, Gretchen. Just let me in, please. It’s important.”

  “All of our clients are important,” she says.

  I walk over to the door and tug on the handle. It doesn’t budge. I pound on the door.

  Gretchen picks up the handset to the phone and waves it at me. “Do I need to call security?”

  I close my eyes and breathe. “No.”

  Just as she puts the handset back in the cradle, the door to the back opens and a lady walks through. I don’t even hesitate. I edge through the door before it slams shut and turn right to go to Ethan’s office.

  “You are so arrested,” Gretchen barks at me before I hear her call security.

  “Stone!” I yell before I even reach his office.

  Several office doors open and unfamiliar faces peek into the hallway. Ethan appears in his doorway at the same time as Gretchen buzzes through a security guard. “That’s her,” she says, pointing to me with a sneer.

  I look to Ethan. He shakes his head in disgust. At me for barging in? At Gretchen for calling security on me? At himself for having me followed? The possibilities are endless.

  He holds up a hand, stopping the progress of the security guard. “It’s fine, Harold,” he says to the aging man who looks like he’s held this job since New York became a city. “This is just a misunderstanding. There isn’t a problem here.” He turns to me. “Is there, Charlie?”

  “Hmmpf,” I rage at him. Then I turn to Harold. “No, no problem here.”

  “Thanks, Harold. You can go now,” Ethan says.

  “If you’re sure, Mr. Stone.”

  “I’m sure. Thank you.”

  He turns back to me and steps into the doorway of his office, waving me by with a cautious arm. “Well?”

  “Thanks, Gretch,” I spit out at Barbie before stepping across the threshold.

  Ethan shuts the door behind me. “Before you say anything,” he starts. “I can—”

  “Say anything?” I shout. “Oh, I’m not going to say anything, but I’m sure as hell going to yell shit, so sit the fuck down, Ethan Stone.”

  “Charlie, calm down. Please. People will hear and Gretchen might sic Harold on you again.” He gives me a crooked smile.

  “Ha ha,” I say snidely. “I’m so glad you can joke at a time like this.”

  “So, Levi called me. He said you made him.”

  “Made him?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you know, caught him following you.” He sits on the edge of his desk. The same edge we had sex on a month ago. I wonder if he picked that exact spot on purpose. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” I yell. “Why the hell would you think I need protection? I’m not one of your cases, Ethan. And I’m not your girlfriend. You made that perfectly clear when you couldn’t get away from me fast enough Friday night. Hell, we’re not even in a fucking relationship according to you and what you seem to tell everyone who asks.” I pace back and forth aggressively from wall to wall, trying, but failing to keep my voice at a respectable volume. “But what I can’t figure out is what the hell you want from me. You have me followed? You warn men away” —he goes to speak but I raise my hand to shut him up— “don’t give me any shit, I tried to talk to Devon at the gym the other night and he avoided me like the goddamn plague. And your own cousin seems to think you’ve been in a foul mood since you met me. If you don’t want me, fine—but don’t you dare presume to try and tell me whom I can and can’t date. And call your damn lackeys off. I can take care of my own fucking self.”

  He watches my whole angry tirade without raising an eyebrow. He’s casually leaning on his desk, arms crossed in front of him. The man is as cool as a cucumber and it pisses me off even more. I kick
the leg of his couch in frustration.

  “Tell me why you’re having me track down all these men, Charlie.”

  “It’s none of your goddamn business, Ethan.”

  He shakes his head, disagreeing with me. “I think you have some kind of score to settle with these men. The first time I gave you information, you turned up with a shiner. Then last week, the same day I gave you more intel, you limped out of the pool like a lame dog. And then today, you go dressed like a thug to Morgan Tenney’s place. What would you think if you were me? Tell me, Charlie, did these men do something to hurt your mother? Are you seeking revenge against them?”

  “No, Ethan. They didn’t hurt my mother. Turn off your P.I. radar and quit messing with my life. I’m a big girl and I don’t need you looking out for me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t give me that,” I interrupt. “What about Devon? What about the guy with the concert tickets? Hell, what about your own cousin—you even warned me away from him. And let’s not forget about your brother, Kyle. And then there’s Chad’s friend, Adam. Why did you step in when he propositioned me?”

  “Why do you fucking think, Tate?” His eyes burn into mine and they are windows into his soul.

  “And why do you call me Tate when you want to fuck me?” I yell, not caring who in his office can hear my outbursts. “If you wanted to just be my fuck buddy, you would have come up to my apartment on Friday. I thought you simply decided you wanted nothing to do with me. But now—the way you are looking at me. All doey-eyed and come-hither. It’s obvious you want me. It’s obvious to everyone in the fucking world except you, Ethan.” I stop pacing and stand in front of him. “Why? Why are you so scared of relationships?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says.

  “The hell you don’t,” I say. “Why, Ethan?”

  He sighs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Rule number ten, that’s why.”

  “Oh my God. You and your damn rules. Just tell me!”