Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  And you want to be someone’s hero, you whiny, pussy bitch.

  Yeah, he fucking did. But not just anyone’s. He wanted to be hers. And if that made him a whiny, pussy bitch, then hell, he was a whiny, pussy bitch.

  He wanted her to want him, to need him. He wanted to be important to her. And when she’d placed her hand over his heart and looked up at him, told him all that stuff, told him what he meant to her, he knew that he was.

  Whistling, he grinned at a carton of eggs. Then, realizing he was grinning and fucking whistling, he stopped.

  Christ, it was like he was high or something.

  You are high, dickhead. You’re high on her.

  Well, there were worse things to be high on.

  Reaching into the fridge, he took out the eggs and a package of bacon and put them on the counter. Then he started pulling open drawers to find the frying pan.

  Ten minutes later he had breakfast cooking, some coffee brewing, and thoughts of just how the fuck they were going to take Troy down turning over and over in his head.

  They had to take him down, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that. And it wasn’t because that asshole had made him feel like a tool last night. Oh sure, he’d get a lot of satisfaction out of smashing Troy’s stupid fucking face in, no question. But really, it was all Ava. She needed justice and he was going to make sure she had it.

  The only issue was how. The guy was one of the biggest crime bosses in the state, and yet he’d managed to evade formal charges for years. Then again, he had his fingers in a lot of pies, and those sticky fingers of his must have left marks somewhere, sometime. All Rush had to do was find them.

  Rush shunted the bacon around in the pan, his brain working furiously.

  No, there was a better way than that. Seriously, why bother searching for traces of those sticky fingers when he could just ask someone?

  He began to smile, because he knew just who to ask. All he had to do was figure out the right leverage and the prick would sing like a canary. But that was no problem. He was good at figuring out leverage.

  “Wow, that smells good.”

  He turned, finding Ava at his elbow, peering over his shoulder at the bacon and eggs he was cooking. She smelled so good, of lavender soap, damp feminine skin, and something else, something fresh and delicate that was all her. Her wet hair had been combed over her shoulders, already curling in the warm air of the kitchen, and she wore jeans and a white T-shirt, simple clothes and yet somehow even sexier to him than the stripper ensemble she’d had on the night before.

  She smiled at him, and he felt his heart curl weirdly around the edges. Christ, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Eggs and bacon,” he said, grinning back at her like an idiot. “Breakfast of champions.”

  “Only if there’s coffee too.”

  “There’s coffee too.”

  Her smiled deepened. “Who knew you were so domesticated? You’d make someone a lovely wife.”

  “You betcha, honey. I’m quite the fucking catch.” He gestured with the spatula, only just resisting the urge to show off by flipping it. “Now sit yourself down and let me bring you a Rush special.”

  She lifted a brow. “What’s a Rush special?”

  “Eggs, bacon, and coffee.” He let his grin become wicked. “With me for dessert.”

  A strange look flickered over her face, so fast that if he hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have noticed. But he was paying attention and he noticed, and though he didn’t know quite what it was, he could have sworn it was fear. Which was strange because he hadn’t said anything that scary, had he? Unless she objected to him for dessert? Then again, she hadn’t objected to anything they’d done last night and they’d done quite a bit, so what was with the cold feet now?

  Briefly he debated pushing her about it, then dismissed it.

  Right now they needed food, then they needed to figure out what to do about Troy. Then they could think about whatever else needed thinking about.

  Grabbing plates and cups, he went about dishing out the bacon and eggs before making some toast and pouring coffee. Then he brought it all over to the kitchen table, setting a plate in front of a hungry-looking Ava and handing her a knife and fork.

  She fell on it with relish, and he watched her for a second, amused. “It’s like you’ve never had eggs and bacon before.”

  “I’m a lousy cook,” she said, forking up a mound of eggs. “And Dad never cooks at all. And this is just…delicious.”

  Man, he couldn’t deny the kick he got out of her obvious pleasure at the food. At him doing something for her. But then, hadn’t he always liked looking after her?

  He leaned his elbows on the table, watching her eat, his own food forgotten, letting the deep satisfaction that wound through him gain another layer, another thread.

  “So,” he said, “I think I may know how we can take down Troy.”

  She went still, her fork spearing through some bacon, her eyes going wide. “What? How?”

  “Collins.”

  She blinked. “Collins?”

  “Yeah.” He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. Fuck, that was good. “Collins wants out, right? So I’m thinking we can use that.”

  “You mean offer him some incentive to testify against Troy?”

  Rush grinned. “Smart girl.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I’m thinking we could work out a deal with the DA. If Collins gives them information that leads to an arrest, then Collins gets witness protection or something.”

  Ava’s eyes glowed. “That’s…not a stupid idea. In fact, it could be brilliant.”

  He couldn’t help it—he basked in her approval like a fucking shark in a warm tidal pool. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to say I’m a goddamn genius. I can take it.”

  “All right. You’re a goddamn genius.” She tapped her fork against her lower lip. “How are we going to get hold of Collins? He said Troy was suspicious, so I’m betting he’ll be watched.”

  Rush shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some contacts—”

  “What about your brothers?” she interrupted before he could finish. “Could they help?”

  His first thought was Fuck no. His second was Absolutely fucking no way. “I’m sure they’ve got other shit to do.”

  Sadly, though, because he’d opened his big fucking mouth upstairs and told her about all his issues, when she cocked her head and looked at him in that assessing, sharp way, he knew she’d seen right through him.

  “Do they know?” she asked quietly. “About your father? About Troy?”

  Jesus. When she went for the jugular, she really went for it.

  Rush put his mug down with a thump. “Nope. I didn’t tell them a thing. They’ve got their own shit to deal with.”

  She remained silent for a second, then turned her attention back to her plate and began mounding eggs up on her fork again. “If that’s the case, then I think they need you, Rush.”

  “No, they don’t—”

  “I needed you and you were there for me.” She flicked him a glance, a flash of bright copper. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to be there for your own brothers.”

  She’s right. She’s always fucking right.

  He didn’t want her to be, goddammit.

  “They won’t want to help,” he repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

  Ava said nothing, just stared at him as she ate a forkful of eggs.

  “They won’t.”

  She took a bite of bacon, then sipped her coffee.

  “Fuck,” he said grumpily. “But you’re going to have to figure it out with the DA.”

  She grinned, and suddenly talking to his stupid brothers didn’t matter so much anymore, not when she smiled at him like that. “You are amazing, you know.”

  Just for a second, he forgot where he was. Forgot to say something dumb like I know or Of course or Haven’t you figured that out yet?

  All he could do was look at h
er as something woke up in his heart.

  And bloomed.

  —

  By the time Rush banged open the front doors of Lone Star later that night, his earlier good mood had evaporated. He felt grumpy and not at all like talking to either one of his brothers. He didn’t really want to talk, period. What he wanted was to stay in bed with Ava for as long as he possibly could and not have to deal with anything.

  Sadly, though, after breakfast earlier that day, she’d made some bullshit excuse about having to tidy the house in preparation for her dad getting home from his sheriffs’ conference, so she didn’t have time to “waste” in bed with him.

  It pissed him off, but he didn’t argue. Maybe what she actually needed was some time to herself. He could give her that—after all, they’d had a pretty intense evening the night before. Be nice if she’d actually been honest with him about it, though.

  Still, he did have shit to get organized if they wanted to get hold of Collins, and the sooner they started, the better.

  He’d spent the better half of the journey back to the Lone Star offices telling himself all the reasons why not involving his brothers was the best idea. That he should get together a posse of his own instead and use them to grab the bastard.

  But every time he went through it, all the plans hinged on being able to trust the people he took with him. And it was an undeniable fact that he trusted his contacts about as far as he could throw them, which admittedly was pretty far since they were all pussies, but still. The point was, he didn’t trust them an inch.

  His brothers, on the other hand? They were bastards—well, Quinn certainly was—but when it came down to it, he did trust them.

  Whether they trusted him, though, was another story.

  He found the pair of them sitting at a table covered with what looked like accounts in the bar and arguing about something. Quinn had his habitual resting bitch face on, while Zane was looking revoltingly perky. Then again, Zane looked revoltingly perky a lot these days, and Rush blamed it entirely on the pretty little thing his younger brother was currently shacked up with. Apparently being with a woman could do that to a guy.

  Weirdly, the idea didn’t freak him out the way it used to.

  “What’s up, bitches?” Rush said, coming over to the table where his brothers were sitting and pulling out a chair. “Did I miss anything cool?”

  Quinn’s scowl deepened as Rush sat down, making Rush grin at him. “Careful, the wind could change and your face’ll stay that way.”

  Quinn’s expression remained exactly the same, while Zane gave Rush a quick, surprised glance. Which was weird.

  “Why ask? You’re not interested,” Quinn said flatly.

  “Dude, relax.” Rush ignored his brother’s bad temper and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “I’ve got something important I need to ask you. Concerning a friend.”

  “Oh? You have a friend?” Zane raised an eyebrow. “When did that happen?”

  Rush extended one hand and give Zane the finger. “I have plenty of friends, asshole. This one is special, though.”

  “Ah. A special friend.” His younger brother leaned forward, his arms on the table. “How much did you pay her?”

  “Why?” Rush grinned. “Iris not keeping up with you?”

  “Jesus,” Quinn broke in disgustedly. “What do you want, Rush? I need to go over these accounts with Zane and you’re not fucking helping.”

  Rush surveyed the other man dispassionately. He remembered the young guy Quinn had once been, responsible and caring, always looking out for his younger brothers. Sure, he’d always been an autocratic prick, but it had all come from a good place. Quinn had changed after their mother had died, becoming a lot more angry, a lot more withdrawn. And now, as Rush looked at him, he could see further changes he hadn’t noticed in Quinn before. There were lines around the other man’s eyes and mouth, lines that were from weariness rather than age.

  No wonder. Christ, being angry all the time took it out of a guy.

  You should know.

  Yeah, he did. Though for some reason it was different now. As if the angry part of him had taken a nap and woken up refreshed. Whether that had something to do with what had gone down with Troy or something to do with Ava, he didn’t know. Maybe it was both, or maybe it was just her. But whatever it was, he felt lighter than he had in ages, as if for the first time in years he could breathe.

  “Okay, I’ll cut the crap,” he said, letting his grin fade, looking first at Quinn, then at Zane. “I came here for a reason, and for a change it wasn’t just to wind you both up. I actually need your help.”

  There was a silence as both his brothers stared at him in surprise.

  Not entirely unexpected, since he’d never asked either of them for help before.

  “Seriously?” Zane asked, his blue eyes suddenly wary. “Is this a joke?”

  “No,” Rush replied, meeting his gaze, a strange tension crawling over his shoulders. “It’s not for me, though, okay? It’s for my friend.”

  There was another silence, the tension gathering tighter in his gut.

  Then Quinn asked, his voice almost a growl, “What do you need?”

  Rush blinked. “You don’t want to know why? Or who for? Or any details?”

  “You’re a Redmond,” Quinn said flatly, as if that answered the question. “Everything else is just details.”

  They were always there for you, asshole. You were just too caught up in your own shit to notice.

  Something heavy shifted on his chest, as though the stone resting on it had slid right the hell off. And he realized that it wasn’t only his father he’d been angry at, it had been his brothers too. Not so much Zane, because Zane had been a few years younger, but he’d been angry at Quinn for sure. The older brother he’d once worshipped and looked up to, who’d changed, who’d become so angry and silent. Who’d disappeared for weeks at a time, leaving Rush by himself with a father who hated him.

  Yeah, he’d been pissed at Quinn for that. Had been pissed at him for years.

  “Dad promised to get me out of prison,” Rush said, not realizing he was going to say the words until they had come out. “He promised. But he never did. And he never visited. And he never called. But you did.” Rush paused, staring at his brother. “Was that only because I was a Redmond?”

  An expression Rush couldn’t read flickered in Quinn’s eyes. “Is there any other reason? You’re my little brother. We’re supposed to stick together.”

  “Is that why you kept taking off after Mom died?” He hadn’t known that question was going to come out either. But he didn’t take it back. Not that there would have been any point now that he’d said it. “Because we’re supposed to stick together?”

  That expression flickered again, along with a lick of anger. “Not sure you get to ask me that question.” Quinn’s tone that brooked no argument. “Not given the amount of time you spent getting shit-faced at Jack’s.”

  He could have gotten pissed at that. Could have said something to dig at the wounds that all of them carried, to peel back the scabs and watch his brother bleed. But he didn’t. Because there was a note in Quinn’s voice that suddenly made it all clear. A note he hadn’t heard before.

  Because you weren’t fucking listening.

  No, he hadn’t. He’d been too caught up in his own hurt, his own anger. But he heard it now and he knew what it was. Pain. If Quinn hadn’t been there for him, he certainly hadn’t been there for Quinn either.

  Rush let out a long breath and dropped his hands from behind his head, leaning forward instead. “You’re right,” he said simply. “I don’t. And I’m sorry.”

  A second astonished silence fell.

  “You’re sorry?” Quinn’s eyes had narrowed, his arms folded over his massive chest. “What the fuck about?”

  A lesser man might have quailed at the look in Quinn’s hostile gaze, but Rush wasn’t a lesser man. He was a goddamn fucking Redmond and he looked straight back. “F
or not being there.”

  Quinn’s mouth tightened, and for the first time since Rush could remember, it was Quinn who looked away first. “The past is over and done with,” he said without expression. “Talk to me about what kind of help you need.”

  But he wasn’t done. Rush turned to glance at Zane. “That goes for you too, baby bro. I wasn’t there for you either, and I know it.”

  Zane was silent for a moment. Then a faint smile curved his mouth. “You going to get all mushy on me, Rush? ’Cause there’s only one person I can handle it from, and unless you get six inches shorter, grow your hair, and develop a pair of breasts, that person is not you.”

  Rush cocked his head and gave his brother an assessing look. “Good comeback, man. Ten out of ten. You’re learning.”

  “I was serious about the mushy.”

  “Nah, you love it, come on. I bet if I was to give you a hug, you’d be all ‘no, Rush, no’ but secretly you’d be ‘oh yeah, I love you, man.’ ”

  Zane laughed, the tension in the atmosphere easing. “Fuck you, asshole. And don’t ever change.”

  Quinn merely stared balefully at his brothers. “Are we going to discuss this help for your friend or what?”

  Your brothers need you…

  Bullshit, he’d thought when Ava had said that. But it wasn’t bullshit. She was right, as she so often seemed to be. They did need him. He’d helped Zane out when all that shit had gone down with Iris, and when Quinn was ready to deal with whatever crap he was dealing with, Rush was going to be there for him too.

  “Okay,” he said, sobering. “It’s about Ava. Long story short, she’s been trying to take down the man who killed her mom.”

  Zane frowned. “But I thought they got someone for that.”

  “They did, but it was a setup. She got a tip a while ago and discovered her mom was doing some digging on Jimmy Troy and he didn’t like it so he got rid of her. Had one of his men shoot her and pin it on some dickbag dealer.”

  “Troy?” Quinn’s gaze narrowed. “The arms dealer? How did you find this out?”