Anything For Them

by Lola StVil

  Copyright © 2018 by Lola StVil

  All rights reserved.

  Formatting by Dallas Hodge, Everything But The Book

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Jackson Hunter has never met a situation he couldn't handle until he met her...

  Jackson Hunter is an FBI agent who has better things to do than to attend a mandatory therapy session with the new shrink in the department. In fact, he blows her off. But when the two of them finally meet up, Jackson finds himself drawn to her. Her name is Mia. She’s kind, witty, and sexy. She’s also raising a seven-year-old son.

  Soon Jackson falls in love with Mia and her little boy. And when he learns that a psychopath is hunting them, he will do whatever it takes to protect his new family.

  This steamy romance is a roller coaster ride that will make you laugh, make you hot, and even make you shed a few tears. It's a full-length standalone novel. You do not have to read the book that came before this one. NO cheating, NO cliffhangers, and a guaranteed Happily-ever-after! This book has adult content for ages 18 and over.

  Books in the "Hunter Brothers" series (All stand alone novels and can be read in any order)

  Anything For Love (The Hunter Brothers, book 1)

  Anything For Her (The Hunter Brothers, book 2)

  Anything For Us (The Hunter Brothers, book 3)

  Anything For Them (Hunter Brothers, book 4)

  This book is dedicated to:

  Shannon Ariss

  Congrats on your wedding!

  Lola

  It’s taken months to get enough information on the terrorist cell we are about to raid. This is the best part of my job as a special agent in the FBI. We get to help stop violent crimes and save innocent lives. So imagine my fucking surprise when my boss pulls me out of the field and tells me to come see him. I watch as the FBI motorcade takes off without me.

  What the fuck?!

  I march into the assistant director’s office and try to hold my temper as I find out what just happened.

  “Serkin, why was I pulled out of the field?” I ask. He looks at me from behind his desk. He’s a stout man with beady eyes and keen intelligence.

  “What’s going on?” I ask again.

  “Take a seat,” he says.

  “No, I’m good,” I snap.

  “I said sit,” he demands.

  It takes everything in me, but I make myself cool off enough to sit down. There has to be a reasonable explanation. I’m one of the best they have out in the field, and if I was made to stay behind there has to be a good reason for it.

  “Sorry about this, Jackson, but you are not cleared for active duty.”

  “Why not?”

  “You haven’t gone to see the staff therapist following the raid last month. You can’t go on active duty until you do.”

  “Doctor Miller is really making a big deal about this? He usually just signs off on whatever we put in front of him and lets us go back to doing our jobs. What’s the problem this time?”

  “The problem is Doctor Miller is no longer on staff. He was replaced, and this new chick—I mean woman—is kind of a hard-ass.”

  “She won’t sign off on my paperwork?”

  “No, not until you actually sit down and have a session with her.”

  “Can’t you talk her out of it? C’mon, I have better things to do than sit down on some sofa and cry about how much my mom did or didn’t love me. This is bullshit!”

  “Look, it’s out of my hands. The other guys involved in the raid had to see this new doctor too. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it goes. If you want to get back out there, you better find your ass on her sofa this afternoon.”

  I growl, “You can’t be serious.”

  “Do I sound like I’m joking? Hey, this sucks for me too. I have good men I have to pull out of the field all so that Dr. Samuels can ask them about their boo-boos. But there ain’t shit I can do about it. Your appointment with the doc is at 4 PM today. So, let’s be grown-up here and get it done.”

  I can tell by the tone of his voice he’s giving me an order. I also know the conversation is over as he’s signaling towards the door. There is no way of getting around it. I’m going to have to talk to this Dr. Samuels. I have never met her, but I’m pretty sure this woman is going to irritate the shit out of me. I’m also pretty sure that she’s one of those “play by the rules” people who has a large stick up her ass. Fuck me.

  The raid last month is the last thing I want to talk about even with my family, let alone a stranger. In fact, I go out of my way to keep the events of that night buried, and now I have to dig it all up just so some hard-ass, pain-in-my-ass woman can sit there and judge me. I can’t believe this shit.

  I ask about Dr. Samuels around the office. When I say her name, most of the guys’ eyes light up. I’m guessing by their reaction that this doctor is easy on the eyes. But I don’t care if she’s hot or not. I just need her to sign off on me going back to active duty. And from what the guys are telling me, there is just no way to avoid this woman.

  Why can’t she just sign off like the doctor before her? I can’t stand people like her. Every single thing has to be done by the rules. They care more about the rules than what’s right and what’s wrong in this world. I have yet to meet Dr. Samuels, but I already hate her guts. So, when the time comes to see the doctor, I don’t. That should let her know just how I feel about her profession.

  The boss informs me that she placed yet another appointment for me. I ditch that one too. It takes a full week of me ditching my appointments for her to finally get the message. Or so I thought.

  “What the hell do you mean, I have to hand in my badge?” I ask Serkin a week later.

  “The doctor reported you to the higher-ups, and they are going to suspend you until you go see her.”

  “This is ridiculous! I don’t need any therapy! You know that.”

  “What’s so damn bad about it? Jackson, you lost two members of your team in an explosion. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to talk to someone.”

  “I know what I lost!” I snap so loudly that the entire office turns to look my way.

  “What? Mind your damn business!” I bark at them.

  “Look, I don’t care how much you hate it. You have one more chance. I called her and pleaded with her to give you one more chance. You better have your ass in her office by 10 AM, or I will take your badge. Don’t fuck with me on this.”

  It’s clear now that I have no choice but to see this insufferable woman. Well, if she thinks she’s gonna get me to open up, she’s in for a rude awakening. She has no idea what’s in store for her. She wants to meet me, fine. Let’s meet.

  ***

  It’s 8:30 AM and my apartment is quiet. That’s the first sign that something is wrong. My seven-year-old son, Aaron, has never been a fan of silence. So like any mother, I’m already suspicious.

  “Aaron, what are you doing in your room?” I ask as I quickly gather the ingredients for breakfast.

  “Nothing,” he says.

  Yeah, right.

  I’m pretty sure that I need to go into his room and see what he’s been up to, but since I don’t see flames or hear sirens, I’m guessing whatever he’s up to can’t be that bad. Or so I hope. The fact is, if I don’t get this food going we are going to be late. I quickly scramble some eggs for myself and make Aaron his favorite—banana pancakes with blueberries for eyes.

  “Aaron, breakfast is ready,” I call out.

  “Um…okay.”

  “Come get it now, sweetie, or we will be late
,” I reply as I scramble to find where I left my briefcase.

  “Coming!” he shouts back.

  “Aaron, I won’t tell you again, we can’t be late. You have school, and Mommy has work.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “So, come on, mister!” I reply as I circle the living room yet again, looking for my briefcase.

  “Here I am!” he says as he enters the room. It doesn’t matter how many times I lay eyes on him; it still makes me smile. I can’t believe he’s really mine or that I made him. His wayward, curly red hair never stays in place no matter how hard I try to tame it. His bright green eyes take in the pancakes at the table and light up. His small frame and toothy grin make it hard for me not to pick him up and swing him around. He hates that. But I can’t help it.

  “Mom!” he groans as I scoop him up and swing him in the air. He swears he hates it, but he always giggles as I spin him. Then when I finally place him down on the floor, he composes himself and says, “Mom! Don’t do that. I’m too big for that now,” to remind me.

  “Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. Wait, does that mean you’re too big for ‘happy face’ pancakes?”

  “No!”

  “Are you sure?” I tease.

  He nods enthusiastically; I ruffle his bright red hair, and he scurries off towards the plate of pancakes. I spot my briefcase in Aaron’s room on the floor. I walk over and pick it up.

  “Aaron, were you playing with my briefcase?”

  He shakes his head “no.” I walk over to the table, where my son is drowning his pancakes in syrup.

  “You know better than to play with Mommy’s work stuff,” I remind him.

  “I wasn’t playing around.”

  “Okay, but next time leave my briefcase where I left it, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom,” he says as he takes his first bite. Something tells me to check my briefcase. The second I open it, a large, bright turquoise iguana leaps out. Thrown, I jump back, and the reptile flees into Aaron’s room.

  “Aaron, what is Mr. Henry doing in my briefcase?”

  “I put him in there so you can take him to work with you. So you won’t be lonely.”

  I laugh as my heart finally stops racing. I walk over to my son and squeeze his little face in my hands.

  “Mommy’s not lonely. How could I be? I’ve got the best kid in the world to keep me company.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want Mr. Henry to go to work with you?”

  “I think he’d be better here. That way he can protect the house. What do you think?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he says, shrugging.

  “Good.”

  “Mom?” he calls out as he ditches the fork and eats the pancake by hand.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Kevin said he’s gonna bring a snake for show-and-tell, and Nancy said she’s gonna bring a robot that talks. Can I bring something cool too?”

  “You want to bring Mr. Henry?”

  “No. Can I bring Dad?”

  I didn’t see that coming. It feels like someone stabbed me right in the heart. There’s so much hope on his face, the thought of taking that away makes me want to cry right then and there.

  “We’ll see, okay? But if we can’t make that happen, we have lots of fun stuff we can take to show-and-tell,” I reply, trying to keep the worry and sadness out of my voice.

  It’s been a while since Aaron asked that his dad be present. I thought maybe he’d kind of let it go. But I was wrong. And now he wants the one thing I can’t give him. He’s such a good kid; he deserves a father that loves him and will show up for him. And that just isn’t Tom. Every couple of weeks, he’ll decide that he wants to play “father” and then he’ll make plans with Aaron and won’t show up.

  I can’t count the number of times I’ve watched my baby get ready for a day with his dad, only to learn that he has been stood up yet again. I finally had enough. So now, I don’t share Tom’s plans to come over with Aaron. I figure it’s better that he be surprised that his dad is there than feel the sharp disappointment that comes from a failed outing.

  I used to have daydreams about finding the right guy for both my son and me. But the fact is most men are looking for a one-night stand, or worse, they string you along until something better heads their way.

  In the beginning, Tom liked playing with Aaron and doing silly things with him. But the adult part of the job was too much for Tom. He didn’t like having to give up his party days and having to find a real job. He loved floating through life, getting by on his smile. And soon, it was all I could do to get him to come by and see Aaron.

  My son wasn’t planned, but he’s still the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I won’t allow anyone to hurt him, not Tom, not anyone. So, when it became clear that he would rather pretend to be a kid than raise one, I put him out of the house for good. I know I did the right thing, but in moments like this, when he aches for a father, I wonder what I could have done differently.

  I push my regret and sadness aside and focus on making sure my son doesn’t start his day worried about whether his father will let him down or not. I need to make him smile. I take a can of whipped cream out of the fridge and give the pancake a beard. He starts to giggle and begs for me to let him try. Soon, we are knee-deep in whipped cream, sticky syrup, and laughter.

  After a quick cleanup, Aaron and I rush out of the building, just in time to get him on the bus and headed to school. I check the time on my cell, and provided everything goes well with the train, I should be at work on time. I head down to the train station and arrive just as the train is about to pull in. I think today might be a good day. But then I remember that my first patient of the day is this guy named Jackson Hunter. He’s been blowing me off for over a week now, and I’m sure today will be no different. I haven’t met him yet, but I already know what kind of guy he is—a grade “A” alpha jerk.

  Crap, I should have stayed home with Mr. Henry.

  I’d rather be doused in chum and thrown into a tank full of sharks than go inside the doctor’s office. But I want to keep my badge, so I find myself in the waiting room of Dr. Samuels’ office. I intend to make this as quick and painless as possible. When the guy behind the receptionist desk tells me I can enter, I nod my head and go inside.

  What a fucking waste of time.

  I enter the well-decorated office, where a woman stands with her back to me as she looks out the window. I don’t know what the front looks like but from behind—shit! This woman has an incredible ass. I clear my throat, and she pulls herself away from the New York City skyline and turns towards me. The very second our eyes meet, the air is sucked from my lungs. I can’t breathe—her beauty is literally taking my breath away.

  She has a figure most men would die to get their hands on. Her dark pencil skirt is long enough to be respectable but just short enough to make a man wonder what treasures she could be hiding. There’s a small split on the side that gives me a peek of her thigh. It’s a cruel thing to do. A peek is not enough. My heart starts racing at the thought of my hand on her smooth, radiant thigh.

  She’s wearing an expensive, dark purple silk blouse that’s buttoned up to the top and won’t allow for a peek at her cleavage. But that doesn’t stop me from noting how full and perky her breasts are. I’ve had my share of both real and fake breasts—so much so that I can tell what’s real and what’s fake even from across the room. I’d bet my life that Dr. Samuels’ are one hundred percent natural. In fact, aside from a subtle shade of lipstick, everything about her is natural.

  I find myself wondering about her nipples. Are they firm and plump or are they small and need to be coaxed out of their hiding place? I can make out the imprint of her lace bra just beneath the surface of her blouse. Her graceful neck and feminine jawline are just ripe for kissing. When I think about teasing her succulent, ruby colored lips, I am forced to swallow a groan. I picture what those lips could do to me, and my cock hardens.

  What I find the most
alluring about her isn’t her spectacular figure, fiery hair, or even her delectable breasts. What has my head spinning with longing are her vivid blue-green eyes. It’s as if someone stole all the colors from the beaches of Turks and Caicos and placed them in her eyes. She wears her stunning fiery copper hair in a neat bun, and has on small dark-rimmed glasses. She looks like the hottest fucking librarian I’ve ever seen.

  In a perfect world, she’d be nibbling on the end of her glasses playfully and making suggestive remarks. However, there is nothing playful or kittenish about her demeanor. In fact, judging by her rigid posture and professional tone, she’s serious as fuck. There is nothing fun or playful about her. And that just makes me want her even more.

  “Agent Hunter, you decided to come see me after all,” she says.

  “Well, Doc, I didn’t really have a choice, now did I?” I ask.

  She smiles. My stomach flips. Who the fuck is this woman?

  “Please, have a seat,” she says as she comes towards me. She sits in the chair across from the high-end sofa. She crosses her legs, and I’m drawn to the sharpness of her heel as it dangles in the air.

  “Agent Hunter, please sit down,” she says.

  You hate this woman, Jackson. Don’t let your cock take that hate away.

  “I’m glad you came by. I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you,” she says.

  “Oh yeah, why is that?”

  “I’ve talked to everyone on your team except for you.”

  “Well, I’m here. What do you want to know?”

  “Whatever it is you wish to tell me.”

  “Well, let’s see. I like long walks along the beach, starry nights, and moonlit dinners by the shore. Oh, and Elizabethan poetry,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Agent Hunter, I know that you are forced to be here, but I truly believe this session might be beneficial to you.”