Big Bad Marine

by Jackie Ashenden

  Oh, man, he was enjoying this, the asshole.

  Rose gritted her teeth. She didn’t like giving in and especially not to him, but she had to do it. This was too important an opportunity to waste on being stubborn.

  “You’re in charge,” she said in a rush, not even stuttering this time.

  Something metallic and sharp glinted in his gaze. “And the rest.”

  “What do you mean the rest?”

  “I had more than one rule, remember? I want your agreement on all of them.”

  Shit.

  Rose started to move then realized what she was doing and stilled, gripping the arms of her chair instead. Damn, she hated how he could make her squirm. Fluttering her eyelashes at him instead, she murmured, “You’ll have to remind me. I’ve forgotten them already.”

  “Uh huh, little girl.” The metallic glint in his eyes became even sharper. “What did I say about those eyelashes again?”

  Anger pulsed through her, at him and his dumb rules, and at herself for slipping up. But there was also a thrill there, too, the same thrill she always got when she and West had a battle of wills. He was the most aggravating, irritating, exciting man she’d ever met, and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing him. Like playing chicken with an avalanche; she knew she couldn’t possibly win and yet she couldn’t stop playing, because there was something exhilarating about facing a force of nature like West O’Connor. That he’d roll right on over the top her, annihilate her completely, she had no doubt. But it would be such a sweet way to go…

  You’re insane.

  Yeah. She was.

  “Um….” Her finger tapped against the arm on her seat, the only fidget she’d allow herself. “No more flirting or panty updates, I guess.”

  He didn’t reply, only inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  “Number two…ah…” She raised her finger again, nibbling on the end of it, pretending to think. “Something about…you being charge?”

  He stared levelly at her, expressionless.

  “Well, I already said that, do I really need to say it again?”

  He didn’t even blink and she only just stopped herself from squirming. “Okay, okay. You’re in charge. Fine. And yes, I’ll obey your orders.”

  “And if you put a toe out of line…?”

  “You’ll put me back on the plane,” she finished, suddenly tired of arguing. “I get it, believe me.”

  He stared at her for a moment more, then he lowered his arms and sat forward, his elbows on the desk once more. And just for a second he flashed her the smile she’d always loved, the gorgeous, slightly crooked one that made her feel warm inside. As if she’d pleased him. Then it was gone.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, seven A.M. sharp.” His voice was flat and expressionless once more. “I expect you to be ready.”

  Rose swallowed, trying to ignore the effect his smile had on her. “Seven A.M. sounds perfect. You know how much I love early mornings.”

  A lie. They both knew how much she hated early mornings.

  “Good.” A hint of what could only be satisfaction gleamed in West’s eyes. “Don’t be late.”

  “Fine,” Rose couldn’t help snapping. “Anything else?”

  “No.” And he looked away as if she’d already left the room. “You’re dismissed.”

  3

  West pulled his black Chevy Impala up outside the apartment Duchess and Rose shared at seven sharp the next day, and frowned at the empty sidewalk.

  Rose appeared to be late. How disappointing.

  She’d seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation yesterday when he’d explained it to her, and even though it had been obvious that she’d found it difficult to give him the words he’d wanted, she had actually said them.

  So why was she not out here waiting for him like she said she would? Hadn’t she listened? Or was it all lip service?

  Yeah, he was disappointed, couldn’t deny it. No matter how irritating she was to him, he did want her to succeed and she wasn’t going to if she kept sabotaging herself like this.

  Which was why he’d decided on a three strikes rule for minor misdemeanors AKA anything that wasn’t outright insubordination and got on his nerves. If Duchess wanted him to teach her a few lessons then, by God, he was going to teach her. Because her sister didn’t need Rose being a pain in the ass and, shit, he didn’t either. If she was going to be part of the team then she needed to learn how to be a team player, and that included learning that actions had consequences.

  West scowled at the door of the apartment building. That was Rose’s problem wasn’t it? She hadn’t had enough consequences in her life. She hadn’t had anyone pay attention to what she was doing and point out what she was doing well, and what she could improve on. Someone to take a fucking interest.

  Her father had passed away in jail years ago, her mom was long gone, and her older sister was too caught up in her own business to be able to spare much attention to Rose. Not Duchess’s fault, but it was what it was. Rose didn’t have any interested parties willing to spare the time to teach her about shit.

  There are a few other things you could teach her about.

  Yeah, but like he’d already decided. He wasn’t going there. Not in any way. No, these lessons would be some simple life stuff that would hopefully get her back on track and behaving like a responsible adult instead of a little brat.

  The door of the apartment building suddenly opened and at last, there was Rose, Duchess following behind her.

  All right. Time for strike one.

  Opening his door, he got out of the car and leanes against it, watching as Rose came toward him. “You’re late,” he said flatly.

  Rose scowled. “I am not.”

  “By a minute. I told you seven sharp.” She had to know that he meant what he said when it came to the rules. And that he was going to enforce them.

  Duchess was right behind her sister, frowning at both Rose and himself. “Sorry, that was my fault,” she said. “I was just making sure she had everything.” Worry gleamed in her eyes. She was nervous about her baby sister going out on her first job, that was clear. “You sure you’re okay with this, West?”

  Could he really punish Rose if it had been Duchess making her late?

  Yeah, he could. Being soft wouldn’t get them anywhere. But maybe he wouldn’t make an issue out of it until they were in the car.

  “It’s fine,” he said, meeting Duchess’s gaze. “And she’ll be okay. I’ll take care of her.”

  Rose gave the both of them an impatient look. “Hey, I’m not ten. I’m pretty good at looking after myself.”

  Her sister glanced at her and there was something complicated in Duchess’s expression that West couldn’t read. “I know you are.” She stepped up and pulled Rose into a hug. “Be safe.”

  The look on Rose’s face changed, fierce tenderness gleaming in her eyes that West was pretty sure no one was supposed to see. It made the moment oddly vulnerable and he looked away to give them some privacy.

  That little girl loved her sister, no two ways about it. She was as protective of Duchess as Duchess was of her, and that loyalty was only one of her many good qualities.

  Did anyone ever tell her that she had ‘em? Or did she only cop flak? A point to file away for further thinking on, that was for sure.

  “Good luck, West,” Duchess said and when he looked back, she was standing in front of him. She didn’t say anything more, but he could see the ‘keep her safe or you’re a dead man’ in her eyes all the same.

  “I will,” he replied, addressing that look aloud. “I promise.” And he was a man who kept his promises, Duchess knew that.

  She nodded once then, after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward and gave him a brief hug. “Go on then. You’d better get going.” Stepping back again, she turned to her sister. “Stick close to West, okay? And don’t do anything stupid.”

  Rose gave Duchess a smile. “Sure. Don’t worry about me. I’ll
be fine.” Even though she didn’t actually roll her eyes, West could tell she was rolling them internally.

  And for a second, a small flicker of doubt went through him. She was barely more than a teenager, so what the hell was he thinking taking her along with him? Especially on this trip. Especially given who he was chasing.

  But it was too late for second thoughts now as Duchess turned and went back into the apartment building, while Rose pushed her hands into the pockets of her skin tight jeans and stuck out her hip. Her golden curls were tied up into a bouncy ponytail on the top of her head and her mouth was painted the color of crushed raspberries.

  She looked delicious and she damn well knew it.

  “Well, big man,” she purred. “It’s just you and me now.”

  West stared at her, unsmiling. “That’s one strike, little girl. You don’t want another one.”

  Instantly, she frowned. “What do you mean one strike?”

  “You weren’t waiting like I told you.”

  “But that wasn’t my—”

  “And you’re giving me those flirty eyes again. Not to mention interrupting me and arguing.”

  Rose opened her mouth. Then shut it again.

  Good decision.

  “Now,” he went on in the same flat tone, “I know this is going to take you some time to get used to, so I’m instituting a three strikes and you’re out policy. Any more back chat, sass, flirtatiousness, or other behavioral shit that I expressly forbade you yesterday, and you get another strike. Get three strikes and I’ll send you back here. Understood?”

  Her pretty face was rigid, her mouth a hard line, fury glowing in her blue eyes. One hand half-rose, as if she was going to salute him, but then, clearly thinking better of it, she let it fall. Good girl.

  “The words, Rosie,” he prompted. “I need to hear them.”

  “I understand,” she said sulkily and with very bad grace.

  Should he take her to task for that? But no, perhaps not. She needed time to ease into this new dynamic and he didn’t want to crush her excitement about the trip completely.

  Instead, he glanced around. “Got a bag?”

  She hitched one shoulder, revealing a tightly packed duffel. “Got everything I need right here.”

  He eyed the bag, surprised. “That's it? I thought women needed suitcases full of female shit.”

  The sulkiness slid off her face, a pleased look crossing it instead and abruptly he wanted to smile. She might be aggravating as all get out, but she didn’t hold on to a bad mood that was for sure. And it was obvious that she was very happy to have surprised him. Another endearing quality to add to the rest.

  “Not me,” she said, grinning.” Just the basics. A spare T-shirt. A dress. And a couple of clean pairs of panties…” Her eyes widened theatrically. “Oops. Sorry. Wasn’t supposed to mention the panties was I?”

  Holy fuck. The woman was irrepressible.

  West raised a brow. “You really want me to add another strike?”

  She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so.” He pushed himself away from the car. “Now, if you’re a good girl for the next half an hour, I’ll stop for coffee.”

  But if he’d thought that would quell her into submission he was very much mistaken.

  He’d barely pulled away from the curb before she had the window down, the air blowing all around inside the car, and was fiddling with buttons on the brand new car stereo he’d had installed a couple of months earlier.

  “Leave it,” he ordered, irritated. It was expensive and he didn’t want her screwing around with it.

  “But I want some music.”

  “The driver picks the music.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  He could feel her wide blue gaze resting on him, but he didn’t bother glancing at her, keeping his attention on the traffic ahead. “My car. My stereo.”

  There was an annoyed silence. Then she said, “So is this another rule by any chance?”

  It was probably petty of him to make another rule up, but hey, life wasn’t fair and people were random, and the quicker she learned that the better.

  She already knows that. No need to be an asshole.

  The thought sat uncomfortably in his head, because of course Rose knew all about the unfairness of life. She’d had a shit time of it. She and Duchess both had. Still, it wouldn’t hurt her to mess with her a little.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think it is.”

  The annoyed silence turned into an outraged one. “But you didn’t say anything about it yesterday.”

  “Nope,” he said calmly. “I made it up just now.”

  Rose snorted. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

  “If you’re good, I may be open to requests.”

  She made another annoyed sound, shifting around in her seat. And there was a few minutes of blessed silence. Then she let out an audible breath and leaned back, extending her legs, putting her platform sandaled feet on the dash and crossing them at the ankle. Her toes were small and perfect, her toenails painted in what looked like glittering gold dust. “In that case,” she said casually. “I’ll just chill out. Feel free to put on whatever old people music you like to listen to.”

  Old people music…

  He grinned and reached forward, hitting one of the buttons on the stereo. Instantly the sound of opera filled the car.

  Rose’s shock was almost palpable. She stared at the stereo then at him. “What the ever-loving fuck is that?”

  West settled back in his seat as they turned onto the freeway, enjoying her surprise probably far more than was good for him. “Old people music.”

  “When I said old people music, I didn’t mean it literally.”

  “It’s Verdi, not old people music.” Amusing himself even more, West turned the volume up. “La Traviata. This is the drinking song. Stratas’ line in this one is perfect.”

  Rose was silent, which had to be a goddamn miracle. Then she said, “You seriously listen to opera?”

  It had been his father who’d been the opera lover. The old man’s favorite kind of evening was sitting in his study, nursing a glass of brandy and listening to the classics. West had grown up listening to them, too, playing with his soldiers on the floor as he'd sat at his dad's feet. Verdi and Mozart and Puccini. He’d absorbed them by osmosis and though he didn’t listen to them much these days, there was nothing like a bit of Verdi to give him a feeling of contentment. Though, to be honest, considering the shit his father had put him through after what had happened to Carly, anything that reminded him of the old bastard was something to be avoided.

  “Yeah, sometimes,” he said. “My dad used to listen to it a lot. I grew up with it.”

  “No wonder you’re such an asshole in that case,” Rose muttered. “With all that screaming going on.”

  “It’s art, you little heathen.”

  Her feet on the dash were moving in time with the music, as if they were entirely separate from the rest of her. Which was another thing about her that for some reason he’d always found endearing. She was like a wriggly puppy, constantly restless, never able to sit still.

  You could teach her how to be still.

  Oh yeah. He could. But as he’d already told himself numerous times, it wasn’t happening. No matter how many arguments his dick put forward.

  “It’s hideous,” Rose was saying. “Can’t we at least listen to something like…I dunno. Something from this century at least?”

  “Technically this constitutes arguing with me,” West pointed out, purely to be a tool. “But I’ll allow it this one time.”

  Rose’s little feet stopped moving on the dash and he could almost feel her silent outrage climbing. But it remained silent, which was the key.

  “We could have something from your childhood,” he said, relenting. “Dorothy the Dinosaur, perhaps? Dora the Explorer?”

  Rose made yet another offended sound and then reached forward, obviously going for the off
button. But then she hesitated. And went for the volume control, turning it down instead.

  Another good decision. So, she could learn.

  He made no comment, letting her have the turned down volume and keeping his gaze on the freeway ahead of him.

  Rose gave a loud sigh, her feet twitching, the gold nail polish glittering in the sun. There was a faint, sweet scent in the car, something floral, like honeysuckle. Rose’s scent. And he’d never thought about it in any depth before, but it was really quite delicious.

  What would she smell like if she was aroused?

  Fuck, these cock thoughts really needed to stop. Because they were not helping and definitely not at the beginning of a long road trip.

  “So.” She sounded impatient. “When are we stopping for coffee?”

  It had only been all of ten minutes since they’d left. Jesus. If this was how the rest of the trip was going to be, it was going to be one hell of a long one.

  “Not yet. I said half an hour.”

  “What if I need to go to the bathroom?”

  “Didn't you just tell your sister you weren't ten? I didn’t think I’d be dragging a kid along with me.”

  She scowled. “I…don’t sit still well for long periods of time, you know this.”

  “Talk to me then,” he suggested, since those life lessons might as well start now. “You know, have an actual conversation with me that doesn’t involve your panties.”

  “Okay fine. Why are you being such a dick?”

  “If by ‘being a dick’ you mean ‘acting like a responsible adult’ then why do you think?”

  She made an impatient sound, shifting restlessly in her seat. “You’re such a fucking hard-ass.”

  “And you’re such a fucking brat.” He gave her a brief glance. “If I’d been a woman and you’d been a man, all those texts and the other flirty bullshit you keep sending me would be creepy and inappropriate.”

  She flushed, biting her lip and turning her head to look out the window.

  “Stop trying so hard,” he went on, because she needed to learn this and the sooner the better. “If you want my attention, ask for it.”