“Melissa, I know this is hard. I know this is weird,” I plead. “But I need you to be okay with this. I love you 'Lissa, and you know I'll never, ever leave you or abandon you. You've been my rock for twenty-three years. We're a team. But... is there room in your heart for me to be part of another team too?”
Before Melissa can answer, Nathan stirs on the bed, opening his eyes. “If I were you, I'd say yes. Andrea is a great person.”
Melissa smiles, looking down on Nathan, and reaches out, taking his hand. “Glad to have you back with us.”
“Thanks,” Nathan rasps, clearing his throat. “Think I can get some water?”
Melissa jumps up, rushing to get him a cup of water, while I help him to a sitting position. The clinic doesn't have powered beds. “Hey big man, how're you feeling?”
“Like I have been sleeping for three or four days,” Nathan says, groaning as I help him up. “How long was I out?”
“Four actually. Good guess,” I inform him, giving him a small smile. “So how much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you and Andrea are finally being honest with each other. Thanks,” Nathan says, taking the cup from Melissa and sipping gratefully. He clears his throat, grateful when he finishes his sip. “That's better. So Melissa, how long were you sitting here?”
Melissa goes red and doesn't answer, and I take her hand. In a welcome sign, she accepts it, and lets me pull her in for a hug. “She's been here the whole time.”
“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “So fill me in.”
“Well, everyone's alive, Vadim Orloff's dead, Peter DeLaCoeur's in the hospital waiting on skin grafts and has been re-arrested, and Katrina's father might turn state's evidence on him,” I tell him, keeping it short and sweet. “The house has been repainted, and I took care of Maverick. When you get out of here, I'll show you where he is, and we can talk about a permanent headstone or something.”
Nathan nods, and holds his hand out. We shake, and he swallows thickly. “Thank you, Carson. I would appreciate whatever you want to do for Maverick.”
“Well, we'll have time to think about it,” I tell him, smiling. “You want to tell him, 'Lissa?”
“Tell him what?” Nathan asks, and Melissa smiles hopefully.
“Nathan, Carson and I talked about it while you were out, and we were thinking... well, you need a place to convalesce, and Carson needs to spend a lot of time at the gallery now, after all this craziness. And having you around helps me, and then there's the matter of security and...”
“And what my sister is trying to say is that we'd be honored if you'd stay with us, at least until you're totally recovered,” I tell him, cutting her off before she babbles herself into an anxiety attack. “We've got the spare bedrooms, so you don't have to sleep on the couch anymore either.”
Nathan nods, then looks at Melissa warmly. “I would be happy to. Now, there is something I need to know though.”
“What?” Melissa asks, trying to contain her happiness and failing pretty badly.
“Are you okay with Carson and Andrea? I always had a soft spot for Andi, even though I didn't always show it to her. I can’t think of anyone finer for you to fall in love with, Carson.”
I look at Melissa, who sighs and nods. “Okay, okay. Carson, I'm not saying I don't feel a little weird about this. You're my brother, and you're dating my sister. That in and of itself just makes me want to look around for someone to start playing Dueling Banjos. But I know that it's just words, and I know the reality of the relationships. Just promise me that I'm not going to find myself thrown out on the street and forgotten because of this?”
“Thrown out on the street?” I ask, chuckling. “'Lissa, I figure that the next time you get nightmares, if Andrea's around, you're going to find yourself the middle of a family sandwich, keeping you safe the whole time. How's that sound?”
Melissa smiles, nodding. “Okay, I think I can get used to that. Glad I have a king-size bed then. I think we'll need to buy some more pillows though.”
“I'm pretty sure we can do that.”
Chapter 25
Andrea
Dinner tonight is relaxed, and in that way it's also strange, adding to the surreal nature of the past few days. We decide to barbecue, since Jackson's feeling a little bit better, stumping around the dooryard with BA on his shoulders, while Carson and I get the fire going.
“Okay, side effect of becoming a fitness fanatic along with Katrina,” he complains good-naturedly while Carson squirts the briquettes with starter fluid. After they're going, we'll add the chunks of wood that really makes barbecue special. “I'm hurt, I know I should be sitting on my butt and just chilling out for another few days, but I can't. I'm barely able to control my energy as it is.”
“That's not being a fitness fanatic, that's you being an overgrown toddler,” I call over, and Carson laughs quietly. “Well, he is.”
“I can own up to that,” Jackson says without any hurt feelings. “How's the fire looking?”
“I'm about ready to burn off my eyebrows,” Carson says, finishing his squirting. “You ready, Andrea?”
“Actually, I kinda like your eyebrows,” I joke, pushing him back. “Let me.”
I use a stick from the wood pile to start the fire, which does start with a massive floomp and even a bit of a mushroom cloud of flame. “Whoa. Someone call the EPA.”
“Hey, be glad I didn't use gasoline, but the gel stuff,” Carson jokes, watching as the flames subside a bit and the fire starts to calm down some. “Nice idea with the stick.”
“I'd prefer to keep us from getting any more injuries,” I reply, tracing my thumb along the cut on my jawline. I know it's healing, since it itches nonstop, which is irritating, but I can't stop myself even though I shouldn't be touching it. I see the mark every time I look in the mirror, and all I can can do is imagine how it's going to scar.
Carson notices, and takes my wrist in his hand, pulling it away gently. His injuries have faded as well, and while his cheekbone is still cracked, the swelling and bruising have faded for the most part, the purpling gone down to just a light sickly yellow under his left eye. “It doesn't matter.”
“The hell it doesn't,” I grumble, wishing I could look at it in a mirror. “Four inch long cuts to the face matter. A lot.”
Carson pulls me in closer, wrapping his arms around me and talking softly in my ear. “No, it doesn't, my love. The cut could have taken out one of your perfect, amazing eyes, and it wouldn't change what I feel.”
“Feels good to say that in public, doesn't it?” I ask, smiling. He nods, and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. “That feels even better.”
“Hey, there's immature children here!” Jackson protests with a laughing jeer, starting another lap of the dooryard.
“Yeah, that's why we have BA watching you,” Carson replies, chuckling. “Hey Jackson?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being cool with this.”
Jackson stops his laps and comes over, looking Carson in the eyes. With a slightly pained grunt he lifts BA off his shoulders and hands her to me before putting his hands on Carson's shoulders. “You are a good man, from everything I've seen. I like you, Carson. And some day, maybe I can honestly call you my brother, I've never had one and I'd like that. But, and I'm saying this knowing that Andrea's right here... she's my sister. You hurt her, at least intentionally, and you'll find that I’ve become protective of my sister.”
Most men I know would be intimidated by Jackson's words. Even with a broken leg and broken ribs, Jackson's an intimidating figure, with his hundred and ninety five or so pounds spread out powerfully on his frame, and hardly an extra ounce of fat on him even after four days of mostly sitting around despite his extra energy. Carson though doesn't flinch, and instead puts his hands on Jackson's shoulders, the two most important men in my life staring eye to eye. “I promise you Jackson, it will never, ever happen.”
Jackson nods, and pats Carson on t
he shoulders. “I figured as much. But I had to be clear, know what I mean?”
“I know. Now, let's get some food ready.”
After cooking up a mountain of pork chops, hamburgers, and a salad for everyone, we all sit around outside, enjoying the cool evening air. “So Melissa said that Nathan can probably come home tomorrow,” Carson says conversationally while munching on a piece of carrot from his salad. Katrina made sure we ate at least something nutritious, that's just the way she is. I don't mind the junk food, since two days of nothing but meal replacement shakes caused me to drop five pounds. “Think you guys can help me fix up one of the bedrooms for him?”
“Sure,” Jackson jokes, pushing away half of his plate. His eyes are much bigger than his stomach right now, and he's automatically adjusting how much he eats to keep himself in shape.“We can put in a canvas cot, a footlocker, and two tons of tea.”
“Actually,” I counter, chewing my burger with pleasure, “I was thinking we can find out about helping him recreate his tea collection here. I don't know if he's got it stashed away somewhere else, but he's got to be feenin' for a good Earl Grey or something. Jackson, you remember his tea corner from the old house?”
“Corner?” Jackson asks with a smile. “He spoiled me with it, and that was more than a corner. I mean seriously, did you even know there was a hundred and eight different kinds of tea before meeting Nathan?”
I shake my head, thinking back to the first time I was allowed into Nathan's workshop, when I was eight years old. It was another seven years after that before he offered me a cup of tea, five years before he offered any to Jackson, a little fact that I hold secretly precious. While right up until the end I kept my actions against Peter a secret from Nathan, I still recognized the man for what he was. “Not before, but I was thinking we could put together a rack for him. Say, start at something that can hold fifty teas or so? That electronic water heater he had, that can't be too expensive, right?”
“Who knows? Honestly though, who cares?” Carson asks seriously. “I guess we haven't talked about it in dollars and cents before, but let's put it on the table. Katrina, Jackson, you guys have?”
Katrina thinks, then shrugs. “Maybe a hundred and fifty thousand from what we took from Peter. Opening the dojo was expensive, but that hundred and fifty, it's secure. Jackson's learned a lot about investing thanks to Andrea, and we're relatively secure. It's a well-invested nest egg that's turning a profit for us.”
Carson nods, then looks at me. “And you... I know most of what you had was that bag of gems that Peter took back when he got your apartment.”
I nod, not ashamed. “I can make it though, Carson. You know that.”
Carson chuckles and nods. “I know. And I'm sure Nathan's got money socked away in a bunch of different places too, so I'm not worried about him. Okay, well, on to me and 'Lissa. We have joint accounts, by the way. What's mine is hers, despite what some will says. To hell with them, she was a good daughter who didn't deserve the pain she's been put through her whole life. The farm's free and clear, but I have no idea what it's worth outside the check I cut the MCS accountant for the property taxes. I do know how much we've got in our personal accounts, and what MCS is worth.”
“How much?” Jackson asks, and Carson taps the porch, thinking. “What?”
“Roughly fifty-two million dollars.”
I drop the remains of my hamburger, stunned. “Fifty-two million?”
Carson nods. “I inherited a lot more than that, and it grew in a blind trust until I turned eighteen. Most of it is still sitting in that trust. I took out what I needed to fund Melissa's art. I knew she had a voice, a vision that needed to be shared with the world. It's been lucrative since, and we live simply enough.”
“I'll say,” Katrina says in admiration. “I don't know any other man with fifty million in his bank accounts who's driving a three-year-old pickup.”
Carson shrugs, looking over at me. “I find there are things a lot more important than money, guys. I guess what I'm saying is, whatever we need to take care of protecting our family from Peter's BS, and whatever we need to make sure our family is set up for the future, we've got it.”
“Think you can buy an Iron Man suit?” Jackson asks after a minute. “I'd love one of those for the next idiot that Peter could send against us. By the way, you said that Orloff was wearing a vest?”
“Not quite a vest,” I explain, thinking back. “He'd taken the hard plates from normal vests, and attached them to the inside of the coat he was wearing. It stopped penetration of the rounds, but didn't dull the energy, which is why it hurt like hell at first.”
“I bet it did,” Katrina says, shaking her head. “I can see why he did it, too. Buying a vest in a lot of areas requires a background check.”
I look over at Katrina, arching an eyebrow. “You look like you wish you had another crack at this guy.”
Katrina shakes her head, then looks out at the barn. “Actually, I was thinking I've gotten a bit lazy with my training. When we get back to Baton Rouge, I'm going to get serious again.”
Jackson groans melodramatically, shaking his head. “I won't even have a chance to get out of the cast I'm in now before something else gets hurt.”
We all laugh, but I feel sad. “So you guys are going to go back to Baton Rouge?”
Katrina nods. “Not like we were before, hiding our location from you though. Just, making our way, and I was thinking, we can set up a fallback location in case things go bad here. Besides, with that sexy new van we've got, we've got a good way to get down here all the time. It's only an hour or so. Weekend visits are looking very good right now.”
Carson shakes his head. “On one condition.”
“What's that?” Katrina asks, and Carson smiles.
“Simple. We alternate weekends.”
Jackson and Katrina look at each other, then grin. “Deal.”
“That was nice of you to get them to agree to weekend visits,” I tell Carson later as we lie in bed. It's exciting, but also we're both nervous. Last time, it was a lucky accident that we ended up in bed together, and for the past four nights since coming back from the clinic I've intentionally slept in my own room, because we knew we couldn't trust ourselves to not end up ripping open my cut. “I appreciate it.”
“It was for me, too,” Carson says, smiling as he gets something from his bathroom and comes in. He's changed clothes, and is wearing just a pair of pajama pants, his lean, lithe body nearly glowing in the soft bedroom lights. “This I've had a while, but tonight, it's especially for you.”
Carson shows me what he has in his hands, a mostly full bottle of massage oil that says its from the South Pacific. Uncapping it, he wafts it under my nose, and I get the essence of warmth and spicy fruits, if that makes sense. “Ah, my Lothario is equipped.”
Carson chuckles and caps the oil. “Actually, it was a gift from Melissa. Last Christmas, I'd tried to see someone, and she thought it'd be a fun little way to say she didn't have a problem with it. Unfortunately for the oil, I did, so we never got even close enough to show her that I had it.”
I chuckle and look at the oil level in the bottle. “So what is the missing oil from? Self-indulgence?”
“Not that sort,” Carson says with a smile, looking down when my gaze travels between his legs. “Actually, I pulled a muscle in my calf back in the spring.”
I hum and turn over onto my stomach, facing him. His hands start to rub at my back, thumbs finding every little knot, and I purr gratefully. “You're very good to me.”
“You don't always have to be, you know,” Carson replies, his fingers not stopping. “In fact, most of the time we're going to look a lot like other people in our relationship. I trust and value your judgment, intelligence and opinion.”
“Even art?” I ask playfully, looking out of the corner of my eye as Carson nods. “Great. Then next, can we ask Melissa to do a version of Dogs Playing Poker, or maybe Wolf Howling At The Moon?”
Carson
grins, and smacks me on the butt, not too hard, but just right. “Mmm... you promised me a spanking last time, too.”
“So which would you like first, the massage or the spanking?” Carson asks, his eyes glowing when I pull my knees up and slide my pajama bottoms down. “I see.”
“Please, sir... it feels so good,” I plead softly. We made sure tonight that Katrina and Jackson are still downstairs, camped out on the sofa by their own choice, so we can have some privacy and be able to express ourselves without limits, but I still want to keep my voice down. “Please... spank me.”
“And then what? A massage?”
I shake my head, looking back at him. “After that... I'll be so wet I know what I'll need. I'll need you inside me. Not to make love, we can do that another time. But after the spanking, I need you to fuck me.”
Carson nods, and turns, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Then get over here. Show me what you like.”
I grin, getting up and pushing my pajama bottoms the rest of the way off, leaving me in just my t-shirt as I stretch out across Carson's lap. I can feel his cock pressing into my belly, already half-hard and quickly firming even more as he caresses my ass. I feel alive, thrilled, and loved. It's more intoxicating than any drug or drink in the world.
“Mmm, it's such a lovely light olive tone,” he muses before suddenly smacking my ass. Electricity jolts through me and I gasp, the warmth spreading as he rubs, each circle of his hand sending ripples through my body to concentrate on my pussy. “Although a little more pink would be nice temporarily.”
“Thank you, sir,” I moan, my breath catching in my chest when he lifts his hand, only to bring it down on the other side, rubbing gently again afterward. “Mmm, Carson... I love it.”
Carson's cock is rock hard underneath my belly as he spanks again, each stinging swat rubbed away to pure hot pleasure by gentle caresses after, until my entire body is trembling with desire. I can feel the moisture gathering inside of my thighs, and I only stop myself from rubbing my aching, fiery clit along his leg by sheer willpower and the desire to feel him inside me.
Retaliation: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 21