Scandalous Heroes Box Set

by Latrivia Nelson

  Now, however, everything had changed. The women, while beautiful and flawless, did absolutely nothing for him. Everyone he saw automatically got compared to the woman he’d been unable to get out of his mind.

  Sassy. Take-no-prisoner attitude. Creamy skin he craved to touch, to linger over for hours on end. And don’t forget those killer brown and gold eyes framed by thick and curvy black lashes. Lord, he wanted to spend days exploring her body. To top it all off, she had her accent, which made him want to hear crying his name in the throes of pleasure. For starters.

  Affrica O’Shea.

  It had been two months since he’d seen her. Each night, she visited him in his dreams only to leave him, come morning, hard and ready to explode with the slightest of touches.

  “Reeve! What’s up, man? You’ve hardly drunk a thing.”

  He stared at the glass in his hand, recognizing his lack of enthusiasm for the night thus far. With a sigh, he glanced from the clear liquid into the green eyes of his friend, Thomas Weldt.

  “Fine, man. Just not feeling—”

  “You need a woman,” Thomas broke in, waving over a stacked redhead in a tight green sheath dress.

  The smile she gave was practiced, and Reeve stifled a sigh of disappointment. Beyond her, he spotted someone he’d not expected to see here.

  “Evening, handsome,” the redhead said, trailing a perfectly manicured hand along his arm.

  He stood as she sat. “I’ll catch y’all later.”

  “Where are you going?” Francis Naplan asked only to be echoed by the woman who’d just joined them.

  “I see someone I need to talk to.”

  Red put a hand on his arm. “No need to find another woman. I can be all you need.”

  Reeve sincerely doubted that. “Not interested.”

  Thomas frowned before following Reeve’s line of sight. “Oh, I see now. See you, man.”

  “He’s hot; do you know him well?” Red asked, her hand fluttered at the base of her neck.

  “Almost as well as his wife does,” Reeve said snarkily, walking off without a look back.

  He wove his way through the crowd of men in suits and women in very little to pause before a man in worn medium blue jeans and a Baltimore Ravens t-shirt. He also noticed how many women stared at the man and shook his head slightly, well aware only one woman in this world had a chance. The love of his life. His wife.

  “What are you doing here?” Reeve questioned.

  Cornflower blue eyes stared at him. “Came to talk to you.”

  Without a word, he fell into step, and they headed for the exit. Outside, a trio of women blocked their way.

  “Hey, Reeve baby. Where are you going? The night is still young, and we just got here. Why are you leaving?” the middle of the trio said with a practiced pout. Her gaze travelled to the man with him, and she smiled. “Ohh, aren’t you cute. Don’t you handsome boys have time for us?”

  “He’s busy.”

  The two words were forced, and Reeve chuckled as he followed him past the women.

  “Still so talkative, aren’t you, bro?”

  Scott, stopped beside a gold Expedition. “Get in.”

  He complied and waited for Scott to start the engine. “What’s up?”

  Scott stayed silent as he drove, and Reeve just leaned back and waited. He’d learned no one could get his brother to rush if he didn’t want to. Unless it was Lex. He had seen the way Scott looked at her—and she him—and knew each would move mountains for the other.

  His brother took them to an all-night diner, and soon, they each had a slice of pie before them. Fork in hand, Reeve stared at his sibling.

  “As lovely as this is, us bonding, why don’t you tell me what’s up.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m listening.” He ate a bit of his warm apple pie.

  “I don’t know what’s between you and Affrica O’Shea but I’m here to tell you she’s not a woman you treat like your other typical fare.”

  “Affrica?” he asked as innocently as he could. His heart sped up at the mere thought of her. “What brought this up?”

  Scott cocked a brow and leveled a stare at him. “We’re trained to observe, Reeve. Not that it matters. We’ve noticed how you perk up when her name is mentioned.” He paused. “All of us have.”

  Crap.

  “So what?” he said with nonchalance and a laconic lift of one shoulder. “I’m not allowed to look at her?” Scott didn’t even crack a smile, and Reeve blinked. “Seriously? Oh, come on, Scott.”

  “Your rep precedes you, Reeve. If a man like you was after Corliss, would you feel good about it?”

  No. A player with his baby sister? Not happy. “Hell no.” Scott held his gaze until it set in. “Duly noted.”

  His eldest brother shook his head. “I don’t think so, Reeve. You need to understand she has not one and not two older brother figures to keep an eye on her. She has eight. Eight highly trained and overprotective ones.”

  Seriously? “All of you? You’re my brother; shouldn’t you be on my side?”

  “I will be, the second you become the man you can be. But right now, hell no. Hondo’s noticed, and trust me, you don’t want him after you.”

  Somehow, Reeve managed to hide his shiver. Hondo scared the crap out of him. The large man rarely cracked a smile. and his best friend, Maverick, made Hondo come across as warm and cuddly.

  “Can’t you just order him to leave me alone?”

  A snort. “Not anymore than I can force you away from Affrica. Would you listen to anyone who told you not to do your best to keep you sister safe?”

  Hell no. “Isn’t that what you’re doing, though? Forcing me away from her?”

  “Nope. I’m merely warning you if you treat her like one of your many conquests, be prepared for the hell which will follow. Because, as sure as I’m sitting here with you, they will come for you, and nothing I could—if I wanted to—say would stop them.”

  Reeve waited for the punch line. One which never came. His brother was deadly serious.

  “Why are you so protective of her?” He had to know.

  “Affrica is Hondo’s sister, she’s an amazing woman, and she also helped Dimitri find his way back to us. She has grit to do what she does, go the places she goes. Oh, and she’s just a genuinely nice person.”

  Okay, it was obvious his brother was impressed with her.

  “I just want her to talk to me,” he admitted.

  “I got that. Godric told me his take on the situation. I can tell you this, though. Asking the wives and girlfriends isn’t going to help you.”

  Damn! They really did share everything.

  “I can’t get her out of my mind.” He finished the last bite of his pie.

  “Yeah, we kind of figured that out. Just…don’t be stupid with her, Reeve. Mark my words, Hondo would kill you. Hell, as it is now, he wants to.”

  Reeve sighed and drank his coffee. After Scott dropped him off at his car, he went home, trying to forget how different his brother’s life had become. Scott drove a vehicle with child seats in it. Yes, he still drove his sports car but it was obvious Scott had settled in to being a husband and father with relish.

  Reeve mulled over that while he drove to his apartment. A disappointed groan left him as he closed the door behind him. It bothered him to feel this envy over what his brother had acquired for himself. Not that he begrudged Scott his happiness, but he recognized his own jealousy.

  For so long, his world had revolved around himself. His needs. His own pleasures. Lately, however, the fast lifestyle had left him empty. The wish for something more had been nagging at him for a while now. Pretty much the night he’d told Scott about Marisol claiming pregnancy.

  Reeve smiled as he grabbed a bottle of chilled water. That was also the night he’d first met Lex. Scott almost took my life, too.

  Not anything he would ever forget. Sure, growing up with Scott and Godric there had been fights. They were brothers, after
all. This had been different on all levels. All because he’d said something stupid about the woman his brother intended to make his wife. The man who had tossed him against the wall and wrapped a hand around his neck had been furious. That night had been his wake-up call. About a lot of things.

  “Then, I run into Affrica O’Shea,” he muttered, taking a drink.

  There was something about her. And it wasn’t just her looks, which were amazing. Such life sparkled in her eyes, and normally, a grin lingered upon her full, definitely kissable lips as if she knew a joke’s punch line and waited for everyone else to hear it.

  She loved life; that much was blatantly obvious. Then there existed this…vibe around her which drew people to her.

  “They say nice things, most do. Except me. I tend to say stupid things around her.”

  He sighed. Being in Affrica’s presence tended to revert him back to elementary school where if you liked a girl, you were mean to her.

  His eyes closed as he leaned back in his recliner. “Affrica,” he whispered, calling to mind his recollection of her.

  Where was she? Did she think about him at all? Most importantly, when would he see her next?

  He’d not been with a woman intimately since he met her. No one else stirred his interest. But a single thought of one Affrica O’Shea had him harder than concrete, full of craving to sink between her thighs and feel her heat around him, holding him. Cradling him.

  Shit! He opened his eyes and shoved to his feet. Time for another cold shower. Leaving his water behind, he made his way to his large shower and soon hissed in discomfort as icy pellets stung his skin. After he finished, he tugged on a pair of sweats and sat to watch Sportscenter. He had it made, truly he did. If he could just manage to get over his teensy obsession with Affrica O’Shea.

  * * * *

  This sucked. Unrelenting wind blew sand so hard it stung her even through the clothing she wore. Affrica shifted slightly and fought the grimace her protesting muscles gave her. They were close. So close to freedom she could almost taste it. Unfortunately, all she could taste was dirt and grit which coated her lips, tongue, and teeth.

  She squinted through the remaining light and spied Miles. At least he’s not comfortable either. In fact, he appeared more miserable than she felt. And that was a feat in itself.

  They’d found the burial site. Sites, actually. She’d snapped so many photos while Miles made his report. They’d also captured some men disposing of more bodies. As well as the vehicles they’d used. All the makings of a “Breaking News” headline…if they could only get out alive. People were hunting them now. She figured the man who’d led them here had given them up. They had a day advantage for when their guide wasn’t where he should have been but armed men were, they’d hauled ass away from their camp. They’d returned early so they knew it would have been later on when they were discovered missing.

  So they had the items with them and nothing more. Luckily, for her, all she had left behind was extra clothing and blankets. She ran her hand over her face and sighed at the gritty feel. They had to move. She made her way to Miles and touched his leg. He’d gone in wearing shorts, and she knew he now regretted it.

  “We need to go, Miles.”

  He stirred. “Already?”

  “Aye. We need to put more distance between us and them. Come on, man, dinna be givin’ up on me.”

  Miles got up, and together, they pressed on. Their progress wasn’t fast but they kept it consistent. She used a long stick to sweep in front of her, checking for creatures, holes, and anything else.

  They reached some caves as the winds ceased. At least their tracks would be hidden. Using her light, she checked for snakes, etc. Once they were in, they sat beside one another to conserve heat.

  “Sleep, Miles. I’ll take first watch.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled before his head rested against her shoulder.

  She was grateful not to be alone, even if her companion was Miles.

  As time clicked past, she ran over everything her brother had taught her about survival. It had become second nature to her whenever she went out. Adrian had seen to it. And so she’d always made sure to be aware of her surroundings. Hopefully, the knowledge would serve her—them—well.

  She woke Miles after four hours. Not sure she could totally trust him to stay awake, she told him to wake her in two hours. Then, and only then, did she succumb to the exhaustion hounding her body.

  “Wake up.” A harsh whisper accompanied the shoulder shake.

  She struggled to open her eyes, the grit lining them felt more like an adhesive now.

  “What?” she asked back, keeping her voice low and hushed.

  “It’s been two and a half hours.” He shifted closer. “I would have let you sleep longer but there are voices threading through the rocks. I can’t see anyone but they’re coming.”

  Shit. “Let’s get moving.”

  “We’re low on water, too.”

  “We just have to conserve what’s left until we locate another source.” She made sure to keep her fear out of her voice. Shouldering her pack, she got up. Unease slithered up her spine. Food wasn’t an issue; she had plenty of MREs—Meals Ready-to-Eat—in her pack, but water…they needed that to survive.

  They crept from their hiding place and inched their way along until it widened out a bit then they began to run. They stopped when they reached a copse of trees, the trunks held her up. Morning’s light broke through and chased away the night.

  She scanned for anyone else’s presence before slipping quietly through, deeper in. A loud snap from behind her had her spinning.

  “Sorry,” Miles said.

  Affrica didn’t speak, just listened. Animals and birds continued to make noise, so she pressed on. There was no reason to try and hide her tracks for she wasn’t that good. Eventually, they came to a small body of water. Her relief was short lived. She was well aware of crocs living around the water.

  “Miles.”

  “God, I want to jump in.” He spoke near her ear.

  So did she. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ever see the movie Crocodile Dundee?”

  He gave a half laugh. “Of course. Why?”

  “Remember when she went to fill her canteen at the edge?”

  “Yes, she had it around her neck and…” he trailed off.

  “And?” she prompted, glancing at him.

  Miles paled beneath his dirt-smudged face. “The croc.”

  “Exactly. Since I’m no Dundee, you’d be on your own.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Hell if she knew. “Fill our canteens and maybe dampen our shirts just to see if we can’t get a bit cleaner. Just…be careful.”

  “Right. I’ll fill them for us.” He beckoned for hers and made his way to the edge.

  Christ! Her mind roared at mach ten with images of him being dragged under. Crocs, sharks, piranhas. Damn mah overactive imagination.

  Nothing happened, and soon, he returned to her side. “I’m going back down to clean off some dirt.”

  She kept watch while he did then they switched positions. The water did wonders in giving her a second wind. Refreshed, she rejoined Miles and pulled out her map. She opened and stared at it while making some calculations. Her heart pounded, and she rubbed her eyes. They were being driven—like the early hunters had done to the mammoth, what evil men had done to Aborigines.

  “We have to circle back.”

  “What? Are you insane, Affrica? You want to head toward them?”

  Apparently, she was. She tapped the map’s plastic cover which shielded it from the elements. “They want us to head this direction.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “No, I’m not, Miles,” she said. “If we keep going this way, we’ll be trapped. Once we’re unable to go anywhere, they will kill us.”

  He seemed to think it over for a bit, and he nodded. “Okay. What do you propose?”

  A quick
glance back to the map before she peered up at him, she frowned when she noticed him fiddling with a pin on his vest.

  “What?” he asked.

  Thinking fast, she shrugged. “Just realizing I don’t know. I’m not an expert at running from killers.” She wasn’t her brother.

  He messed with the pin again. “Do you think we can rest a bit more here? Surely they’re still looking in the rocks.”

  More unease hit her, and she gave a sharp nod, unwilling to trust her tongue. She took another look at the map before folding it and setting it beside her. Miles moved to sit by her pack and leaned against a tree trunk.

  “I’ll take first watch,” she said.

  He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. She moved closer, noting his eyes opening to watch her briefly before they closed again. Once she was sure he slept, she stuffed the map in a pant leg pocket and sighed. She had to go. Or sure as her name was Affrica O’Shea, she would be dead. And the man sleeping there would be part of the reason.

  Although she wished to leave right this second, she waited a bit longer for him to be even more deeply asleep. While she waited, she mulled over her very disturbing realization that Miles had sold her out. Why? What was his gain? And did it really matter? All she needed to do was get the fuck out. She grabbed two of the canteens—leaving the third since it was around him—her pack, and slipped away, moving as fast and as silently as she could.

  She ran on, checking her watch’s compass to ensure the right destination. Great! Hell of a time to realize just how right your brother is about Miles, she reprimanded herself. So where does this leave me? Oh, right. Alone in the Australian Outback with murderers on mah trail.

  She ran harder, until her lungs burned and the already present blisters on her heels screamed in agony. Once again, among the rocks, she did her best to hop from flat surface to flat surface, avoiding the chance of leaving any footprints.

  Collapsing in some shade, she drank a fair amount of water then dug through her pack for her cell. She flipped it open and saw one bar. And roaming. She didn’t care. In her estimation, she had one chance to get this off. Moving to type her text, she swore when the signal died. She typed it anyway and pressed send. No signal flashed at her. Ignoring the pain leeching through her, Affrica scrambled upwards. Four rocks later, she got the break needed and, with a prayer, sent the message.