Big Bad Marine

by Jackie Ashenden

  Naturally, Rose picked up on in. “Something tells me Jenkins isn’t just a skip to you, is he?”

  West curled his fingers around the steering wheel, holding on tight. He’d meant to tell her the night before but he'd forgotten after she’d told him about Mason. So really, it didn’t matter if she knew. Not that he’d been deliberately withholding the information. He just hadn’t wanted to reveal the personal connection, not when there was some violence that needed to be done.

  He shouldn’t tell her now, either.

  “Don’t bother lying, West,” Rose said. “Something’s up with him.”

  Fuck. Might as well tell her, in that case.

  “Jenkins is an old buddy of mine,” he said at last. “Or rather, ex-buddy. He’s the guy who hurt my sister.”

  Rose’s shock was palpable. “Holy shit. Seriously? What’s he doing here?”

  “Getting into trouble with the law, apparently.”

  “No one ever laid charges against him?”

  “No. Carly didn’t want to.”

  “Oh, West…” Rose’s voice was soft and thick with sympathy, making that feeling in his chest worse. “No wonder you want to get hold of him. What are you going to do to him?”

  Finally, he glanced at her. “I’m going to drag his sorry ass back to Texas, just like Duchess wanted. But first I want to give him a little taste of what it feels like to be powerless.” His fingers gripped hard on the wheel. “What it feels like to be helpless.”

  She’d dropped the shades back down over her eyes and light glinted over the lenses, hiding her expression. All he could see was his own reflection. He didn’t know why he was looking at her when he didn’t care what she thought of what he was going to do. It wasn’t anything to do with her. And he was going to do it whether she liked it or not. For Carly’s sake.

  Or is it for yours?

  No. He was doing it for his sister. Because it was the only justice she’d ever get.

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  Then Rose said, “Good.”

  It was not what he’d been expecting and for a second, he could only stare at her, the traffic be damned. “Good?” he echoed.

  “Well, sure.” She paused. “What? You think I wouldn’t be okay with that?”

  He didn’t quite know. All he did know was that her easy acceptance made him uncomfortable. “It’s a massive conflict of interest.” He turned his attention back to the traffic in front of him. “Duchess would be pissed.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  “No. She probably wouldn’t have let me go otherwise.”

  There was a short silence.

  “Does she know about any of…that?” Rose asked, a note in her voice that he couldn’t place. “About your sister, I mean?”

  West shook his head. “The subject never came up.” Or rather, he’d never brought it up. And not because he didn’t trust Duchess, he just hadn’t seen the need to involve her in his issues. Also, she’d never asked.

  “Oh,” Rose said. “So who else knows?”

  He shouldn’t tell her. He shouldn’t let her know how special she was. But he couldn’t lie. “Only you,” he said, staring out into the hot street, the sun glancing off the back windows of the car in front of him.

  “Oh,” she said again, softer this time. “Well, no one else knows about Mason but you, either.”

  There was a warmth inside him that shouldn’t be there, a kind of satisfaction. The same feeling he’d had when she’d told him that she’d been with only one other guy. It was akin to possessiveness and he shouldn’t be feeling it, not about her. Yet he did.

  “So how long have you been planning on going after him?” Rose asked after another small silence. “Because obviously you have.”

  He nearly smiled at how well she knew him. “I’ve been watching him a while. And let’s just say I’ve been waiting for him to slip up.” He paused. “You’re not worried about what I might do to him?”

  She gave a small laugh. “No. Should I be?”

  Another thing he didn’t know why he was asking her. “I might end up killing him,” he forced himself to say. “I certainly wanted to after Carly told me what happened.”

  “You won’t kill him, West.” Rose voice was nothing but certain. “You’re only going to hurt him a little. And I’m more than okay with that. Like I said, good. If you ask me, the bastard deserves some pain.”

  Yet West couldn’t seem to shut himself up. “You don’t know. You haven’t seen me when I’m angry.”

  “Are you afraid you might kill him?” There was absolutely no judgement in her voice, the words entirely neutral. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  No, what he wanted was to prepare her for the truth. Because she was going to see it, wasn’t she? She was going to see it as soon as West got anywhere near Ian. Because he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t punch the guy’s face in and keep on punching until he couldn’t see the bitterness and pain in Carly’s eyes. Couldn’t hear it in her voice as she told him all of this was his fault.

  Until all memory of what had happened to her had been erased. For good.

  Given that, he should forbid Rose to come with him when he went to get the Ian. But he wasn’t going to. He was going to take her with him. Because she needed to see the man he truly was inside.

  So she would never put him on that fucking pedestal again.

  Something warm rested on his thigh and when he looked down, he saw Rose’s small hand sitting there, as if he needed comfort.

  “You’re not the bad guy, West.” Her voice was quiet and yet full of conviction. “You’ve never been the bad guy.”

  He said nothing to that, because even though he might not be the bad guy, it didn’t make him a good one either. But there was no point telling her that.

  Instead he put his hand over hers where it rested on his thigh and kept it there, her warmth like an ember in a banked fire, keeping him warm on a long, cold, winter’s day.

  When they finally got to Caesar’s Palace, Jenkins was in the pool, sitting at one of the swim-up blackjack tables, a drink beside him, his skin gleaming pallidly in the late afternoon sun. A blonde in a bikini was dealing out a hand with professional ease, taking no notice of the fact that Jenkins’s gaze was firmly on her breasts and not on the cards he was being dealt.

  Rose – sitting on a sun lounger not far away pretending to sun herself – curled her lip, anger simmering inside her.

  So, that was the guy who’d raped West’s sister. No wonder West wanted to hurt him. Hell, she wouldn’t mind hurting him herself. And not just because of what the asshole had done to Carly, but what that had done to West himself. Because not only did he blame himself for what had happened, for some reason he also thought that something about the situation made him a bad guy.

  She didn’t understand that, because there was nothing about West O’Connor that was bad. Nothing at all. Sure, he might have been wild when he’d been younger. He might have fallen in with a bad crowd and brought one of that crowd home. And that had had terrible consequences for his entire family.

  But that didn’t make him a bad person. It was just a mistake and everyone made mistakes. Hell, she’d made her fair share, too. Still, he seemed to be pretty committed to the role of villain, and she wondered why that was. What he got out of it, because he must get something out of it, right?

  Looking away from Jenkins, she glanced around trying to spot West, who was doing a circuit of the pool to check whether Jenkins had any friends hanging around who might get in the way.

  His tall, muscular figure was easily recognizable as he strode through the crowds of people gathered poolside, moving with that fluid, athletic grace that was so damn mesmerizing. And judging from the double takes and head turns from various other women, Rose wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  Not that it was difficult to see why, because it wasn’t just in the way he moved. In jeans and a T-shirt, with his aviator shades hiding his sharp gray eyes
and the last rays of the sinking sun tipping the ends of his shorn hair gold, he was hot as hell too.

  Rose let her gaze linger on him, conscious of that small, subtle ache that rested somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. An ache that had always been there and probably always would be, the pressure of a feeling that wouldn’t ever go away.

  That feeling had been strong, sitting in the car earlier that day, as he’d told her about Jenkins, his anger so obvious it was like a physical force.

  But it made sense. His sister hadn’t got justice for what had happened to her and a man like West would want to take it for her. It probably wasn’t the right thing to do and hell, maybe it was selfish considering it was Carly who’d been assaulted, not him. Then again, he’d never been the kind of man to sit back passively when someone got hurt. He always had to do something, help in some way, and since Carly had refused that help, he was clearly bent on finding some other outlet.

  Rose couldn’t blame him. She’d kind of wished Mason had tried something after Lily had taken West on, purely so she could see West punch him in the face. But sadly, not long after that, Mason had been killed.

  Now, she’d have to satisfy herself with watching West punch this asshole instead.

  Switching her gaze from West to the much less appealing prospect of Jenkins, Rose scowled at him while he scowled down at his cards, obviously less than thrilled with them.

  West had told her to wait until he gave the signal, then she was to come over and act as backup. The plan was to take Jenkins back to the hotel room they’d paid for, even though they weren’t planning on spending the night, and then for West to extract a little bit of vengeance. After that, they’d take him down to the car and get him out of the city ASAP.

  She didn’t much like the part of the plan that consisted of her being put on a plane back to Austin, but West had been firm about that. He wanted her back home and not anywhere near their asshole skip.

  It was annoying, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t really want to spend another two days in the car anyway, especially since it wasn’t going to be just her and West, and besides, she had a feeling it would be a very tense trip.

  Over in the pool, Jenkins threw down a card and pushed some chips toward the dealer, a disgruntled look on his face. Then his head suddenly jerked around to look at someone at the side of the pool.

  Rose tensed.

  Looked like he’d spotted West.

  Abruptly, Jenkins got up from his seat at the blackjack table and started wading toward the steps that led out of the pool.

  Rose stood up, watching as West loped over to the steps, moving without any particular hurry to intercept him.

  Crap, was he going to get there in time?

  But apparently, West had been moving faster than it looked because he was at the steps by the time Jenkins came out of the pool, waiting with his arms folded, looking every inch the pissed off, dangerous bounty hunter he was.

  Jenkins froze for a second. Then he turned around and dove back into the water, swimming hard for the opposite side of the pool.

  Time for plan B.

  West turned his head in Rose’s direction, but she'd already collected her stuff and was moving around the side of the pool to the other set of steps, aiming to head Jenkins off there.

  She was in place just as he came out of the water, positioning herself so she was standing in his way and giving him one of her best flirtatious smiles. “Hey there,” she said huskily. “I noticed you across the pool. You look like you could use some sunscreen. Want me to help?”

  Jenkins frowned then glanced back over his shoulder, clearly trying to see where West had gone. But Rose knew Jenkins wouldn’t spot him. West would have vanished, just like they’d planned.

  Plan B had been a strategy West had not liked at all, but when Rose had put it to him, he’d been forced to admit that it made sense. Because the difficulty was always going to be getting Jenkins away without causing a fuss or attracting attention. It wasn’t as if the guy would come quietly, especially if he recognized West, and there was a high likelihood of that happening.

  But Rose had a solution. Which was to have him see West and watch him bolt. Then she would approach him, looking all cute and flirty, and like she was into him. She would let him think he could take her up to his hotel room. Once she’d gotten his room number, West would arrive and that would be that.

  West had loathed the plan and hadn’t hidden his fury about it, especially when she’d pulled out her red bikini. He hadn’t wanted her anywhere near that motherfucker, or so he’d said, and the razor’s edge she saw in his eyes was dangerous enough that she’d second guessed herself.

  But they didn’t have a better plan. And anyway, she wouldn’t be in any danger, not given all the people that would be around. Plus, she had her own bodyguard prowling around, AKA West himself.

  None of that had made him any happier and part of her was a little thrilled at his possessiveness, but in the end, he’d agreed.

  Now, Jenkins looked back at her, his expression clearing, some of the tension going out of him. “Sunscreen huh? At this time of night?”

  She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes and playing up the dumb blonde act. “Oh, yeah. It’s kind of night isn’t it? Well, how about you buy me a drink instead?”

  Jenkins blinked then gave her a slow and very appreciative look, his gaze lingering on her barely covered breasts, then he smiled. “Sure, why not?”

  Rose grinned. “Hey, maybe we could have drinks up in your room? I kind of forgot my towel. And my room key.”

  If her sudden come-on was surprising, Jenkins gave no sign. Instead he grinned wider. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Oh good.” Rose gave another giggle then threaded her arm through his. “Come on then, show me where your room is.”

  Jenkins gave one last glance behind him, then tucked her in close as they moved to the pool exit. She tried not to shudder in distaste at the press of his wet body against hers, or give any sign she wasn’t less than super thrilled and into him than she was. She didn’t look around for West either, though she knew he’d be watching them like a hawk.

  “So, pretty,” Jenkins said as he stopped by his sun lounger, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, “want to tell me what your name is?”

  Rose told him the first name that popped into her head, then carried on some inane conversation as they made their way inside and found the elevators.

  Jenkins had relaxed entirely now, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close once again. He wasn’t unattractive, his features clean cut and regular, his hair dark and spiky. But he smelled of chlorine and beer, and there was something about the way he looked at her that made her skin crawl.

  No, she wasn’t going to be sorry about taking him down, that was for sure. Even if she hadn’t known what he’d done to West’s sister.

  The elevator chimed and the door opened, disgorging a whole bunch of people, and once they’d gone, Jenkins pulled her into the empty elevator car, obviously very pleased about the fact that they were alone in it together.

  For the first time a cold thread of unease wound through her. Hell, maybe this plan hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She didn’t know what she might do if he tried anything.

  Then, just as the doors began to shut, strong hands gripped the sides, stopping them from closing. “Excuse me,” a deep masculine voice said. “Going up?”

  West stepped into the elevator and she felt everything inside her relax.

  But Jenkins didn’t. His eyes widened and he vainly reached for the doors in an effort to keep them open, but it was too late. They shut, the elevator beginning to rise.

  West reached out and casually pressed the stop button, his gaze fixed on the other man. “Ian, you prick. Fancy meeting you here.”

  11

  West had never been so angry. He could feel the rage like a volcano on the edge of erupting, lava seething and bubbling, earthquakes shaking the ground, rocks fal
ling.

  The man who’d hurt Carly so badly, who’d basically screwed the whole O’Connor family when he’d raped her, and who’d gotten off scot free, was now right here in front of him, and he had his filthy fucking hands all over Rose.

  Rose. Who was his.

  West knew there was murder in his eyes and it was a good thing that Rose had now edged away from Ian, putting herself out of his reach, otherwise West might have put his hands around Ian’s throat and choked the life out of him.

  Instead, West changed his position almost instinctively, so that he was in front of her, guarding her in case the bastard decided he really didn’t like having his balls hanging where they were, and made a grab for her.

  But Ian didn’t even look at her. A flash of fear crossed his face, then it was gone, replaced by that cocky confidence that West remembered from years ago. That he’d once used to admire, thinking it made the guy more like him.

  “Hey buddy!” Ian exclaimed, grinning like West was still the old friend he’d once been, clearly pretending he hadn’t seen him by the pool. “Long time no see. What are you doing here?”

  “Give you one guess.” West tugged his T-shirt up a little way to display the badge clipped to the waistband of his jeans. “You skipped bail, asshole. Which means I’m here to drag you back to Texas.”

  For the first time a spark of fear glittered in the other man’s eyes. He glanced down at the badge, his jaw tightening. “But you can’t—”

  “Well, that’s the neat thing about being a fugitive recovery agent.” West allowed himself a smile. “Cops can’t go across state lines to make an arrest, but I can.”

  Ian’s smile became a touch forced. “Seriously? You really going to rat me out? Come on, let’s go to the bar. I’ll buy you a drink and we can talk about the old days instead.”

  Calmly, West reached around and grabbed his piece from where he’d stuck it at the small of his back, holding it negligently in his hand where Ian could see it. “No, let’s not. Let’s talk about Carly instead.”