Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  I squeeze my hands against the wall. Hmm, heated walls. Nice touch, but kind of pointless in a night club, if you ask me. I take a small step back and focus the best I can. I look up and up and up a little more. Finally my eyes land on two laughing brown eyes. Since when do walls have eyes?

  “Whoa there, sugar,” the wall says.

  “Huh?” I’m confused as hell.

  “Beck, what’s going on, brother?” Greg says from behind me. Grabbing my hips and bringing me to his side, he throws that familiar arm over my shoulder. “I see you met my girl, Iz. Izzy, this is Beck, one of the boys I was telling you about.”

  I can feel the smile in his words. Greg has talked about his “boys” often; I know he thinks of this group as more than friends. After all, when you fight alongside each other for so many years, trusting them with your lives, they become so much more than just people to you. A brotherhood with a bond so tight it is untouchable. I know he is over the moon to finally introduce these men to Dee and me.

  I come out of my wall fog long enough to glance up at Beck. He really is one handsome giant. He is at least a few inches over six feet, close to Greg’s height and build. He has such strong features—a nose that looks like he has broken it a time or ten and chocolate brown eyes that are twinkling with humor and have deep laugh lines crinkling the corners. He is obviously a man who smiles often. His brown hair is way overdue for a cut, but he makes it work. Really makes it work.

  “John Beckett. Heard a lot about you, little lady. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He is holding out his big paw for me to shake. It feels strange shaking his hand after basically being plastered over his body. Awkward.

  “Iz…um, Izzy West,” I fumble out.

  Dee must have just noticed our new arrival, because right in my ear, I hear, “Who in the hot hunk of sex are you?”

  Leave it to Dee. She knows what she likes, and it looks like she likes Beck. Smiling, I turn to look at my friend, and oh yes, Dee is in lust heaven right now. I’m shocked she hasn’t started panting and humping his leg.

  Turning back to Greg, I notice that two new hunks have joined the party. Since Dee is now busy with Beck, I sit back down and enjoy my drunken happiness. Greg turns, noticing my sitting down, and grabs ahold of my hand.

  “Baby girl, this is Zeke Cooper and Maddox Locke. Boys, this is Izzy.” He introduces me with a huge smile.

  I haven’t seen Greg this happy in a long time. I know he has been waiting for this moment, introducing two sets of his ‘family’ to each other. I don’t know much about these men outside the fact that they served with Greg in the Marines. It’s my understanding that they work for the same security company in California, something they started up when they left the Marines. Greg couldn’t wait to merge his company with theirs, turning Cage Investigation and Security into a large-scale operation.

  “Hey, boys. Nice to look at cha,” I tell them. Oh my God, did that just come out of my mouth? If their twin smirks are anything to go by, it most certainly did. Shit, does Greg only know hot guys? Both of these two easily top Greg’s six foot three. They’re giants to someone as vertically challenged as I am and holy hell, they are nice to look at. Talk about easy on the eyes. Both men have bodies meant to be worshipped, long and hard.

  Zeke has blond hair, clipped close to his scalp, eyes so blue that even in the club’s dim lighting they look clear, and a blinding, full smile with twin dimples on each side. He reminds me of a model straight from Abercrombie. He is the perfect vision of the boy next door.

  Maddox is his polar opposite. He has just as many muscles, but on him they look huge and imposing. His brown hair is longer than Zeke’s, sporting that messy look like he was running his hands through it all day—sex hair. His face is hard but friendly in a weird combination that just seems to work. But it is his eyes that hold me captive; they are so dark they look black and bottomless.

  I realize I have been sitting here eating them up with my eyes when I hear Greg clear his throat. Looking over at him, I see the biggest grin on his face. Thinking he is smiling at me, I give him one of my brightest smiles and start to turn around to properly introduce myself to his two friends. I am not exactly making the best first impression with these men. I open my mouth to speak when I hear Greg booming—yes, booming.

  “Reid! Damn, is it good to see you again. Twice in one day. Must be my lucky day, you fucking bastard.”

  Jesus, there’s another one of these men? Maybe this one will be short, fat, and balding. Ha, not looking like that’s possible with this cast of man candy. Even their names are hot. Beck, Zeke, Maddox, and Reid.

  I turn to my side, giving Dee a smile that I hope expresses how lucky we just became. She is still standing next to Beck, but her flirty smile is long gone. The look of shock and something else I can’t name has taken over her face. What the fuck? She looks like she swallowed a damn fly and is looking right over my shoulder with her jaw on the floor.

  Damn, this one must be even hotter than the others.

  I make a mental note to discuss this with her later. I might be out of the game, but even I think that is a weird flirting technique.

  I finish my rotation and end up looking at the biggest chest I have ever seen in my life. If the boys before this one made me feel small, this man makes me feel like a damn midget. Well, I can understand her astonishment now. It isn’t normal to be this large. How is his shirt even staying stitched at the seams? His arms are so big and powerful that they are currently testing the strength of his black button-down shirt, which is stretched across his massive shoulders and tucked neatly into the tight black dress slacks, slacks that are doing nothing to disguise the healthy-sized bulge.

  I shake myself off, mentally berating myself for going there. I just eye fucked this complete stranger without even saying hello. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last drink.

  I look back up and meet the most stunning green eyes I have ever seen. Eyes I have seen before. Eyes I have spent hours gazing into. Loving and planning. Eyes I have been mourning for the last twelve years.

  Feeling dizzy, I reach out to steady myself, catching the first thing I find, which I think might be Greg.

  “What the fuck?” he mumbles under his breath.

  This isn’t happening.

  This can’t be happening.

  He’s gone. I know he is. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have just spent the last twelve years missing him so ferociously with every fiber of my being.

  The last thing I think before I feel my world spinning and crashing down on me is that Axel isn’t gone. He isn’t dead. I didn’t lose the last part of him when his baby bled out of my body on my eighteenth birthday.

  And before I lose all touch with reality, I swear I hear, “Are you fucking kidding me? Isabelle is your goddamn Iz?”

  I must be dreaming because MY Axel would never sneer my name with so much anger and hate.

  Chapter Five

  “Baby,” I hear his deep voice seductively rumble as he trails his fingertips up my spine.

  God, I love how he wakes me up, always touching my skin like just the contact alone makes him feel whole. His hard body is pressed tightly to my own, keeping me snug and warm against his side.

  “Baby girl,” he croons in my ear, kissing the spot right behind it—the spot that never fails to make my body go from warm to boiling. Goose bumps instantly start to sprinkle against my skin.

  No one has ever set me on fire like he has.

  No one has ever loved me like he has.

  Axel, my love, my heart, my everything.

  I’m finally back in his strong arms.

  How did I get here? My heart skips a beat and my breath stalls in my lungs.

  It’s all been a dream, it must have been. Just a terrible nightmare I never thought I would wake from.

  My parents are still alive.

  Ax isn’t leaving me.

  Our baby is still safe within my womb.

  Everything is perfect.

  The
enormity of this moment hits me like a Mack truck. Big, body-heaving sobs rack my body.

  He’s here; my Axel is here. I am finally back in his arms.

  “Baby girl,” his voice says again, getting fainter like he is down a long hallway.

  “Izzy? Baby girl, please wake up.”

  Why is Greg holding me? He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right. Where is Axel? He was just right here. I don’t want Greg, I want Ax!

  My crying intensifies, and I can feel his body tensing, trying to figure out how to calm me down. I can hear myself; I must sound ridiculous with my hysterical babble. I’m begging Greg, begging and pleading for him to take me back to Axel. I know I don’t make any sense but I just can’t seem to figure out where reality is and where I left Axel in my fog.

  I want that dream back. I can’t lose him again…I won’t survive it a second time around.

  I eventually settle down to just a few shudders, my breath escaping my body. I try desperately to make sense of this situation. How did this happen?

  Looking around, I notice for the first time that we are in an office of sorts and I am sitting on a large leather couch pushed off to one end. Maddox is standing next to the door like a guard. His face has lost the small touch of friendliness he had before and has now taken on a fierce look of pure rage. I look up at Greg with what I’m guessing is a face of pure confusion. He returns my look with a small, forced smile.

  I can hear Dee now that I have finally stopped my grief-filled sobbing; she sounds like she is a million miles away. She is muffled enough that I can’t understand her words, but the venomous tone to her voice is clearly reaching my ears. Greg is still holding me tightly in his arms, whispering reassuring words in my ear. At least I think they are reassuring. His tone is soft and slow, delicate. My mind can’t catch them though; I am still searching for Axel.

  “Move the fuck out of my way, woman. I will not tell you a-fuckin-gain.” I hear the steel-like tone attached to the voice I haven’t heard in so long. He sounds almost feral. That is not a tone I have ever heard his voice take. “I will get back there. Do you fucking hear me, Isabelle? I will be talking to you!” he continues to boom through the office door that Maddox is guarding.

  At the sound of my full name, my body goes rigid. I can feel every muscle individually seize up. Each bone seems to have turned to stone, and tremors are starting to work their way through my body. My heart picks up speed and my breathing becomes shallow.

  No one has called me that in two years; and no one would dare. That was the name, the only name, Brandon used with me, and it was almost always followed by his fist or foot. No one who knows me would use that name. The first time Dee called me that after I left Brandon, I had to be admitted to the hospital because I couldn’t calm down.

  God, I can’t breathe. I look up into Greg’s worried eyes. I know what he sees when he looks down into mine—absolute raw terror and fear. A fear that I am back in that place and terror that Brandon has finally found me.

  Gasping to catch a small slice of oxygen down into my lungs, I start clawing at his arms, trying my hardest to get away. I have to run. I have to hide. If Brandon is here, he won’t stop until he kills me this time.

  “Fuck,” Greg spits out. “Mother FUCKING fuck!” He is pulling me closer to his body, trying with great desperation to calm me down. I try to soak up his warmth the best I can, attempthing to almost crawl inside his body, but none of it is touching me. I feel like my body is being filled with ice, filling me completely to my soul with ice-cold fear. I can almost drown in the memory-induced terror; it is completely taking over my body and mind.

  “Fuck,” Greg rumbles again. He sounds so worried. I wish I had the words to reassure him that I’m okay, but what a laughable reassurance that would be.

  We both know I am not okay; I was so far from okay I might as well be in another country. I haven’t had an episode like this in a long time; not since the early months after leaving Brandon. I have been doing so well at beating back the panic and finally seeing the light of peace. In fact, yesterday’s breakdown after the ‘present from hell’ was the first time I have felt the claws of fear take hold in months.

  “Locke, come here, man. Hold her for a second so I can go bash that motherfucker in the goddamn head.” Greg softly throws his request over to Maddox. I guess he has had enough of watching me come unglued. It can’t be easy for him to watch the aftereffects of a beaten and broken woman. After he first witnessed one of my panic attacks, I remember he wouldn’t leave for days. He kept his hawklike eyes trained on my every move, just waiting for me to crumble.

  I feel my body being lifted and then set down within a new set of steel bands. Maddox hooks one arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest, taking my legs and pulling them up close to my body before wrapping his other arm in tight. I feel almost infantile in his arms as he starts to hum a slow tune. I never expected him and his hard exterior to be so understanding and nurturing.

  Finally feeling some of the panic recede, I take what feels like my first gulp of air in hours, willing my heart to settle. Maybe it’s his warmth or the way this big hard man curled me in tight and started to softly sing under his breath. Maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t want this new person to see how completely fucked up I am. But he finally calms me down enough to feel the stress and exhaustion of the situation start taking over. Looking up, I meet the concerned dark depths of Maddox’s eyes.

  “You okay, girl?

  “No,” I whisper back to him.

  What an absurd question. If I could, I would belt out one hell of a laugh.

  I don’t think I will ever be okay again.

  I tuck my head back down onto Maddox’s chest and hope for a miracle.

  *~*~*

  Axel

  You have got to be fucking kidding me. What are the odds, after this long? Isabelle fucking West. I am still at a loss over this new intel. My goddamn Izzy is Greg’s friend who needs help? No, that’s not right. She isn’t mine anymore. She stopped being mine when she couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t hold on for just a few months. She stopped being mine the day I finally found her—married to another fucking man.

  Fuck! How is it possible that the Isabelle I knew all those years ago is the same woman Greg gave me the rundown on yesterday. He described a scared, innocent, and very broken woman. The Izzy I knew would never let a person break her spirit. Hell, in the three years she was my girl, even I had a hard time keeping that spirit from overtaking me. She was so full of life and happiness. No fucking way this is the same girl.

  When Greg called me yesterday to have a chat, he explained that his girl was in trouble. And not the kind of trouble a girl needs to be in. I didn’t have the time yesterday to sit down and get the details, being in the middle of moving across the country and setting up shop with Greg; things are insane. I had finally handed over the West Coast operations of Corps Security just a few days ago, quickly jumping in my truck and heading east. I had bought my house quickly and we had just signed the lease on the new office space. Now all that is left is getting set up with Greg and becoming familiar with his case load. There is an endless backlog of people requesting consultations for investigative work. Luckily it hasn’t taken much to convince Locke, Beck, and Coop to pick up and start over in Georgia with me.

  During our quick meeting yesterday, he filled me in on the very hazy issue. He had a good friend escaping a bad marriage. How bad, I don’t yet know. She has been living here for about two years and during the last six months has been having a back and forth battle for divorce. The bastard doesn’t want to let go. Greg said that it hasn’t been a big issue until yesterday when she got a fucked-up picture in the mail. He explained it to me. The ex sounds like one sick fuck and enough of a threat for me to tell him to set something up.

  He didn’t tell me her whole name; he called her Iz. I remember snorting humorlessly at the name yesterday. But yesterday, the last thing I thought was that Iz could possibly be one and
the same, Isabelle West.

  I’ve known Greg for close to a decade now. I still remember a few years ago when he called up, telling us he had to run to North Carolina and be some white fucking knight. I don’t remember the details, even though I wish to fuck I did. I just remember him going radio silent for almost a month after.

  He has always talked about his two girls here in Georgia. The guys and I have been giving him a hard time for a while now about handing over his nuts since he liked hanging with pussy so much. He has always spoken about these two chicks like they are fucking queens, goddamn Mother fucking Teresas. I honestly don’t think I have ever heard him say a negative thing about either one of them.

  Such bullshit. This little scrap of female is blocking the club owner’s office door like she would take out any threat that tried to get through her to try and reach Isabelle. Where the hell is the small sprite Greg said radiated glee like a fucking fairy?

  “FUCK!” I roared. “Get out of my goddamn way, woman.” How does this tiny, one-woman circus think she is going to fucking keep me from breaking that door into splinters? I look over at Coop and Beck; they seem just as confused as I am about this whole standoff. Jesus, I am getting in that damn office, even if I have to physically remove this woman from my path. I’m tired of playing nice. I might not have a mother, but even I know to respect women; this one though would try the patience of a fucking saint.

  Just when I am about to pick her up and remove her from my way, the door opens and out steps a red-faced, spitting-mad, Greg Cage.

  “You”—he points at my chest, getting right up in my fucking space—“get the fuck out of here. You might be bigger than I am, but when it comes to her, I will fucking kill you.”

  What. The. Fuck. The hell with that.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, brother, telling me that I can’t speak to her?” I can feel the vibration of unshed violence rushing through my veins. Even with the small thought in the back of my head that I would do the same thing in his shoes, I still can’t calm myself.