Monster (King Brothers #1)

by K. D. Elizabeth

  “And what was that?” says Rory, tapping her foot on the ground.

  “He said if I helped him make sure that his end of the deal came out better, then he’d ensure I’d have my job waiting for me after the sale.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” Rory asks.

  “It means,” I say, “they told him to fuck up the numbers in the financial packet your agent sent, so that there’d be official justification for offering a lower price.”

  Rory’s head whips from mine to the asshole. “Is that true?”

  He shrugs a little. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Well, and the tractor.”

  I still. “You deliberately wrecked the tractor.”

  “It devalued the farm, didn’t it?”

  “You could have fucking killed her, you maggot,” I snarl, advancing on him.

  Rory’s outburst momentarily halts me. “Are you kidding me? I can’t believe you’d do this to me, to my family. You knew we needed this money.”

  He says nothing, his face completely expressionless; he must believe that while the Larsons might need the money, he does, too. Well, he needn’t worry about that any longer, because after causing the accident that led to Rory’s injury, I’m going to murder him. The fucker won’t have any money troubles, then, will he?

  Rory paces back and forth, shaking her head slightly as she mutters something under her breath. “So that’s it, then? You sold us out for just the promise of a job? Did it ever occur to you that a person willing to resort to dishonest tactics for the sale might also renege on his promise to you?”

  Lipton flinches slightly, as if the thought has indeed occurred to him, before he wipes the expression from his face and stares at her steadily. “The simple fact of the matter is that, once you announced you were selling, your days as my boss became numbered. I had to think about my future.”

  “I can’t even believe you would be that selfish!”

  Lipton shrugs, apparently not too torn up by Rory’s attack on his character.

  Rory opens her mouth to say God only knows what when I cut in, “Who was it?”

  He glances at me nervously. “What?”

  “Who was it? Who was the person who asked you to do this?” I say through my teeth, glaring at him.

  Lipton acts as if he might ignore my question, before Rory fixes him with a lethal glare and practically growls, “Answer him.”

  He heaves a sigh. “It was Howard.”

  Rory gasps, but I actually laugh, it’s so ridiculous.

  “You’re lying,” I say, shaking my head.

  A sly smile spreads on his face as he observes my obvious distress. “It sure was.”

  “I don’t believe you. Howard would never do such a thing. He’s been with my family for decades, since my father was a child. He’s known the Larsons for years; Rory herself since she was a little kid. He’s never been anything but an honest person. He simply wouldn’t ask you to do something like this.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want to believe, go right ahead. Still doesn’t change the fact that he’s the one who called me, and has been calling during this entire deal. Think about it. Who else would have an interest in the Larson farm? It’s not large enough to make a large profit on its own, and it’s too isolated to be merged into a larger commercial property. Only the King farm stands to gain anything by buying it. And we all know the harvest has been bad the last couple years.

  “Obviously, Axel would never resort to such measures. He’s got too large of a stick shoved up his ass to do anything remotely unscrupulous. Howard must have thought that it fell to him to get this deal done for his boss. I don’t really care, to be honest. My motivation was much simpler.”

  “Yeah, a stupid job you would have been offered anyway,” says Rory bitterly.

  Something about his expression tells me there’s more. “That wasn’t the only reason he did it, though, was it, Lipton?”

  He looks from me to Rory in defiance. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.”

  Rory stares at him for a long moment, and it’s almost like she knows. “Spill it. Get it all out.”

  “Do I really need spell it out? You were the one who dumped me. You were the one—how did you put it—who said I was a child categorically incapable of growing up.”

  Rory winces, then growls, “So you fucked me over, essentially, because I wouldn’t fuck you anymore. Lovely.”

  “That’s what you get for being a complete bitch,” Lipton suddenly shouts, like he can no longer hold back the rage he’s bottled up for years.

  “Are you serious? You’ve got to be kidding me. What are you, five? A girl doesn’t want to play with you anymore so you take away her fucking home?”

  “I didn’t take away anything from you. You were already selling. I just arranged things in my favor.”

  And Rory is finally done acting like a mature adult. Her face twists in rage. She jabs a finger at him as if she’d stab through his skull if she could. “I should kill you. If my arm wasn’t injured, I’d haul off and punch you.”

  That’s all I need. “Allow me,” I snarl, and launch my fist into his face with enough force to knock him to the ground. When he tries to get up, I bend down and punch him a second time, so he realizes it’s better not to move. “And that’s for almost getting her killed, asshole.”

  “I’ll have you jailed, bastard!”

  “And while they haul me down to the station for assault, they can bring you right along for fraud and reckless endangerment. It’ll be worth it.”

  That shuts him up real quick. The dumbfuck groans and wipes the blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. I know I shouldn’t feel such a surge of satisfaction in seeing the dick on the ground, whimpering, but I do. And I don’t care. I’ll defend Rory until she can do it herself. And if she ever can’t, I’ll do it for her.

  Lipton’s eyes slide toward Rory with unbridled hatred, and I realize that he’s been waiting, just waiting, for years for an opportunity to screw her over. All because she just wouldn’t sleep with him anymore. So fucking pathetic. My lips curl in disgust; I should have hit him harder, and more.

  Rory notices as well. She straightens as tall as her frame will allow, and fixes him with a deadly glare. “Well, glad to know that I finally figured out what happened.” She turns on her heel and begins walking away. Just when I think she’s entirely dismissed him, she turns back and adds, “Oh, and by the way, you’re fucking fired. And you better believe that I’ll make sure Axel never hires you for the rest of your life. You are never going to work here or at that other farm ever again. That’s a promise.”

  Then she leaves. Without another word, Rory heads back to her house. Lipton stares at her retreating back, anger and surprise mixing on his face.

  I glare at him. “Did you really think this wouldn’t be the outcome, you stupid shit? Fuck, how stupid are you to even admit any of that? You must really care about your sexual reputation. That’s just pathetic, man.”

  He makes as if he’ll actually respond, but I shake my head viciously. “That didn’t require an answer. You better be gone from this place by dawn, or so help me, I’ll do it for you—and you better believe it won’t end well.”

  And then I leave the bastard, too, heading for the person actually hurt, literally and figuratively, by his behavior.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I find Rory in the kitchen, hands on the island counter, staring at nothing. She looks so damn sad. Rory’s never sad. Angry, sure, sarcastic, yep, but never sad. A few years after her father died, her senior year of college were rough. She refused to see me no matter how hard I tried to talk to her, which fucking sucked. Apart from that, though, she’s never really been someone to dwell long on unfortunate things.

  Seeing her like this now breaks my fucking heart.

  “Rory, it’ll be okay.”

  She nods once, decisively, but for some reason I can only think of how she’s merely trying to convince herself she agrees with my assessment.
<
br />   “I can’t believe that asshole really did that. I can’t believe he admitted it.”

  “He wanted you to know.”

  “What?”

  I shrug. “He’s clearly been waiting to get back at you for dumping him. I bet if you hadn’t confronted him, he eventually would have told you himself. Maybe even after the sale was final.”

  “Well, at least he didn’t get away with it. We caught the error before the sale was final.”

  “Technically, it doesn’t matter what he did, because my brother increased the offer, anyway. He kind of ruined everyone’s plan, didn’t he?”

  Rory smirks at me. “He didn’t ruin my plans. I’m getting the asking price I originally wanted. That’s got to burn a little, doesn’t it?”

  “He didn’t listen to a word his agent told him.”

  “You were his agent.”

  “I’m aware of that. My brother doesn’t do anything that he’s told to do. You have to convince him it’s his idea.”

  Fuck, I’m going to have to tell Axel about Howard. He’s going to shit a brick. I don’t need that kind of rage directed at me.

  Rory’s face softens at my misery. “I’m really sorry about Howard, Jack. I know he’s been there forever.”

  I shrug, then run a hand through my hair as this news doesn’t bother me. “I just wonder what else he’s done, you know? He could have been doing this for years.”

  “Axel will go postal,” Rory says, shuddering. “I wouldn’t want to be there when he learns the news.”

  Neither do I—and I’m the one who has to deliver said news.

  “Come here. Let me look at your hand.”

  I stare at Rory in confusion. “What?”

  She nods to my right hand. My knuckles are bloodied and swollen from getting to know Lipton’s face.

  “Jackson, let me look at it.”

  I’m not going to argue. If Rory is finally going to show concern for my welfare, I sure as shit won’t discourage her. She carefully takes my fingers in her hands, rotating my knuckles from side to side so that she can assess the damage. I couldn’t give two shits about my hand; I’ve had far worse from fights with people far less deserving than what Lipton received.

  Instead, I stare at Rory, searching her every feature, cataloging every expression that streaks across her lovely face. Christ, I’m a goner. I would punch a million jackasses a million times if at the end of each, she would hold me like she is right now.

  “Your poor hand,” she murmurs, placing it gently on the counter as she turns to pull the first-aid kit from one of the cupboards.

  I laugh. “I can’t believe you still keep it there. Remember that time we climbed a peach tree and then skinned our knees falling out of it?”

  Rory rolls her eyes. “No, if I recall correctly—and my mind is a steel trap—it was me who climbed that tree at your encouragement, me who got in way over her head and fell to the ground, me who had to explain to her mother how her daughter had injured herself so stupidly. You, on the other hand, emerged from the drama entirely unscathed.”

  She chuckles a little, shakes her head, swipes an antiseptic pad across my knuckles. But I don’t laugh or acknowledge the stinging pain. “You’re wrong,” I say.

  She glances up at me, doing a double take at my serious expression. “About what?”

  “I didn’t survive it unscathed. I felt every one of those scratches, because they were my fault. I was the one who goaded you into it. You were always hanging around, younger but braver than I ever was. You never wanted to be left out, even if you attempted something beyond your ability.”

  I trail off. My hand reaches up to her cheek, my thumb caressing her soft skin. “You always terrified me, whether it was falling out of that damn tree, waiting anxiously for you in my dorm room, or even now, staring down at you when you’re so beautiful I can hardly breathe.”

  Rory goes entirely still, staring at me with unbridled shock, pain, and maybe even hope. “Jackson …” she starts, then trails off, swallowing hard.

  “I know that you hated me for years. I know that I’ve done stupid things, out of fear and frustration. I know that I hurt you, unknowingly, and even sometimes on purpose. I have felt all the hurts that I’ve inflicted, just as I felt the pain of those five scratches you got falling out of the tree. And I’m so very, very sorry that any of it, all of it, ever happened.

  “But there will never be anyone else for me. You’re it. No matter how hard I try, everything will always come back to you. I finally accept that. Even if you never feel the same way, even if I never get to have you. Four days ago, you walked back into my life, demanding I see you, obey you. I can never go back to the way things were even a week ago.”

  Tears stream down her face; I simultaneously hate that I made her cry and know that I could no longer go without confessing these things. They are an indelible part of me, written in the hope of youth and the disillusionment of adulthood. I can no more deny them than I can breathe.

  Rory gasps, trying to rein in her tears. I remove my injured fingers from her hands that have now gone cold. “Say something,” I beg, unable to take her silence.

  Rory’s eyes search mine for one long, significant moment. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. Oh, I tried, but I could never stop thinking of you, wondering about you, your life, and the people in it. I was no longer one of those people.

  “I needed to see you again, but could never dare do it outright. I’d never just walk up to you, not after what I still believed you did to me. I think selling the farm was my secret way of forcing me see you again. To finally learn for certain what happened all those years ago. Sometimes, I hated myself, hated that I couldn’t stop thinking of you, missing you. I tried so hard to pretend I had moved on, when all I could ever do was compare each man I ever met to you. It only made me angrier. I can’t—”

  I kiss her, because I can’t refrain any longer. Because I know she needs this as much as I ache for it, too. Rory sighs as my lips touch hers; it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. She tastes like peaches and sunshine; like everything about this farm. Kissing her is like tasting the flavors of my childhood. Kissing her is like coming home.

  I groan, shattered by the intensity with which I want her, how desperately I need to thrust inside her, show her how much I need her, how much I’ve needed her my entire life.

  I pull her toward me, drawing our bodies flush against each other. It’s the most exquisite sensation, how perfectly our bodies slide together. I run my hands under her shirt, trailing them up her back, unable to resist the temptation of touching her. Rory moans, writhing under my touch, straining against the already-hard length of my cock.

  “I need you,” I groan. “God, I need you so much, Rory.”

  “You have me,” she says, and I swear no one has ever uttered something so sexy in my entire life. I grab her waist, lifting her up as she wraps those long legs around me. Rory tears her lips away from mine long enough to gasp, “The guest room downstairs.”

  I carry her down the hall, arms wrapped around her as she buries her hands in my hair and kisses me like she’s wanted to, needed to, for a decade.

  My tongue thrusts inside her, sliding against her own. I kick the door open, letting it slam against the wall as I carry her inside, then slowly lower her to the floor. She slides down every inch of my body, making my cock twitch in appreciation.

  For a moment, we stare at each other, then Rory’s mouth twitches in a huge smile. She trails her gaze suggestively down my body. “Let’s see if you finally filled out in the years since I last saw you naked.”

  I glare at her in mock annoyance. “Are you implying that I was scrawny in college?”

  “I’m saying that in college you were a boy, but now you’re a man, and I would very much like to precisely catalogue how things have changed.”

  My dick needs no further encouragement; it’s instantly, achingly hard. I open my mouth; when I speak, my voice is remarkably hoarse. “Fe
el free to do a very thorough inspection, if you want.”

  “I think I just might.” Rory trails her fingers up my chest before sliding inside my collar. “I must say, you never dressed quite so … professionally when you were younger.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mm-hm.” She slowly undoes the top two buttons on my shirt and then pulls the collar wide, running her hands across my shoulders. “My, such broad shoulders. Definitely larger.” She unbuttons more of my shirt, her hands returning to my skin, this time sliding over my chest. “And yes, definitely more muscles here.”

  “What is this, some sort of X-rated Little Miss Riding Hood?” I gasp, panting.

  Rory unbuttons my shirt the rest of the way and then slides it off my body. She quirks a brow at me, smirking. “I don’t know. Does that mean I get to play the wolf and eat you all up?”

  Jesus fucking Christ. “You can eat any parts of me you like, peach. Preferably all of them.” I lean closer, fingers playing with her shirt hem. “But be warned, I might eat you back.”

  She trails another suggestive look down my body. “I think that could be arranged.” She continues her inspection, running her hands down my stomach, which clenches tightly under her touch. Her fingers slide down every ridge of my abs, before toying with the waistband of my dress pants.

  “Like the improvements?” I rasp.

  “Very much,” she says, staring me dead in the eye as she slowly begins unhooking my belt. My fists clench at my side, simultaneously wanting to take her, to take control, but also wanting this little inspection to continue.

  Rory holds my gaze as she undoes my pants and pushes them to the floor. My briefs follow a moment later, finally freeing my dick from the uncomfortable tightness of my clothing. Only then does she lower her gaze, her lips smiling wickedly when she finally sees me bare before her.

  “Well, hello there. How very nice. But I just can’t quite seem to remember if this part of you has grown as well. Perhaps a closer inspection is in order,” she says, sinking to her knees.

  “Rory,” I growl in warning, but she’s already taken me in her mouth. Fucking hell. I groan, weaving my fingers into her hair, holding tightly as she slides all of me into her mouth and then withdraws so painfully slowly. Her tongue swirls expertly around my head; I simultaneously want to come my fucking brains out and interrogate her until I know exactly how she got good at this.