by Sara Fawkes
Something about her concerned look gave me my answer, that she was free of that burden. She still squeezed my hand, moving around so that she was in front of me. “Would you like me to call your men?” she asked, her tone serious.
I barked a laugh at her phrasing. “No,” I said, the sudden humor too much right then. “No, I’m fine. This isn’t because of them.” A bold-faced lie, but it seemed to do the trick.
“You didn’t kill somebody, did you?”
I turned startled eyes to Amyrah. “No,” I said in a rush, and felt her relax.
“Then whatever is wrong can be fixed, right?”
But I was wrong, I realized. I might as well have killed love, at least when it came to Jeremiah Hamilton. Everything I knew about his history, the way he had looked at me the last few days, told me my news could shatter that inside him forever.
Closing my eyes, I covered my mouth and focused on breathing normally. It took several deep breaths to calm my quaking lungs. Such a drama queen you are, Lucy Delacourt, I admonished myself, mortification settling over me like a blanket. I certainly had a high opinion of myself, thinking I had that much control over another man’s emotional well-being. Smoothing the hair from my face, I wiped my eyes hastily with the back of my hand and stood. “I’m sorry,” I said, balancing precariously. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Lucy,” Amyrah called as I turned to go. Biting my lip, I turned to look at the other girl. Concern and anxiety was written all over her face, and her hands were clenched tightly in front of her body. “If you need any help,” she said, “please let me know.”
I gave a jerky nod, dashing away new tears that leaked from my eyes with one hand. “You do look gorgeous though,” I murmured, attempting a smile. Apparently I didn’t do a good job with the expression because the worry in her face deepened, but I couldn’t stay there any more. “I’ll call you soon,” I mumbled, then turned and left the room, heading straight for the front door.
I stood outside Jeremiah’s front door for several minutes before I finally got the nerve to give it a light rap. Really, it was barely more than a whisper, and I forced myself to knock harder a minute later. I didn’t want to be there and had no idea what I would say when the door opened, but was never given the chance to find out. The door remained closed, even after a third attempt, and the pressure around my heart decreased slightly as I turned toward my own room.
Light streamed through the open windows, as bright as the desert sands we’d gone through the previous afternoon. Somewhere in the room came the faint hum of a fan, and the gossamer curtains across the window swayed in the small breeze produced. I leaned back against my door for a moment, allowing the nervous shaking in my legs to ease a bit, before moving further into the room.
Reaching up, I pulled out the clip from my hair and let it fall in a tangle to my shoulders. A shower and nap sounded divine; my nerves could use the relief. I had already started unbuttoning my shirt, moving through the living room to the bathroom at the back of the suite, when I saw something nearby me move.
I gave a startled squeaked, stumbling back against a nearby chair as Jeremiah rose to his feet from the couch beside me. He’d been sitting there the entire time, and I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t seen him. My heart racing, I leaned against the chair and placed my hand over my chest as he crossed the room, pausing to look outside. “Jeremiah,” I said breathlessly. “I was just...”
“When,” he asked, his voice as cold as I’d ever heard, “were you going to tell me you fucked my brother?”
BONUS STORY
“Lucas, please.”
The plea rang inside Lucas’ head as he descended the stairs into the bowels of the ship. With the night came turbulent waters; the walkway beneath him swayed and rolled, but Lucas barely noticed.
Down below, his men were milling about, taking stock of the situation and searching every inch of the ship to be sure the threat was gone. Lucas appreciated their thoroughness. The muscle he hired weren’t just thugs; some were as well trained as Jeremiah, if not better. These men were smart; they had to be to survive this cutthroat business.
Two men stood outside a small room near the back of the ship. On a table beside them lay a variety of weapons and electronic equipment. Lucas picked up the small radio, checking the settings. “You checked him thoroughly?”
“We stopped at the cavity search after he gave Rawlins here the shiner.”
Indeed, the quiet man did seem to have a bruise forming above one eye. When the bald man saw Lucas’ scrutiny, he added, “We decided to hold off on anything more until we got your word.”
“Why?”
“He’s your brother.”
Ah, and that was the crux of everything. Lucas nodded, then jerked his chin toward the door. “Bring him out so we can talk.”
Lucas looked through the rest of the items on the table, including the gun. He was quite familiar with the MP5-N gun, an old favorite for military types. This one looked like it had weathered more than a few battles. He checked the clip to be sure it was loaded, then cocked the gun and turned around. “Ah, little brother. It’s always so good to see your face.”
Jeremiah glared back, his lip curled slightly in obvious distaste. In the face of such disdain, it was easy for Lucas to smile. He’d grown quite adept at the practice. “So tell me: how did you find my ship? I’ve searched it thoroughly for tracking so it can’t be that. Satellites perhaps?”
“Why did you take her?”
Lucy’s stricken expression rose up in his mind. Lucas turned quickly to hide his reaction from his brother. “Is the answer here?” he said, poking again at the equipment on the table. “Surely you didn’t just pick our location out of thin air. It’s a big ocean, something must have led you here.”
“Goddammit, Loki, answer my question.”
Lucas’ fingers dug into the smooth edges of the table. “I’d really prefer to focus on how you found me.”
“If you hurt her...”
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” Lucas turned back to his brother, pursing his lips. “Do you know how easy it was for me to gain access to your compound? You might as well have given her to me on a platter.”
Jeremiah fought unsuccessfully against the hands holding him back. Lucas held his ground, waiting until his brother’s struggles subsided. “Somebody paid a hitman to get rid of you, but the minute he’s gone you’re stupid enough to relax and let your guard down. And no, I’m not going to tell you how I got in there any more than you’re going to tell me how you found me, but it was child’s play.”
Lucas struggled to get himself back under control. “Do you know what she said to me in the car?” he said after a minute. “That you’d broken her heart. I believe she also said you called her emotions “platitudes”, which didn’t seem to go over well.”
The conversation was obviously not what Jeremiah wanted to talk about. “She signed a contract,” he said before biting off his words.
“You made her sign a contract?” This was news to Lucas, and touched off a fire inside him. “What did it say, that you got to do whatever you wanted?”
Jeremiah said nothing, but Lucas had spent years reading his baby brother. The truth was written all over his silence. “My god, you turned that poor girl into your whore.”
“Don’t you call her that,” Jeremiah roared, and managed to wrench one arm free. He lunged at Lucas, only to be brought up short by the second man’s grip. Then Kolya appeared between the two brothers, wrestling Jeremiah back into submission and on his knees.
Lucas stood there, shaking in rage. His hands curled into fists as he stared down at his little brother. “You make me sick,” he spat. “Did you have a similar contract with Anya? Goddammit Jeremiah, answer me!”
“No,” Jeremiah answered evenly, although he continued to glare up at his brother. “She never had to sign anything.”
The urge to beat the man before him was overwhelming. Remembering everything she’d told him,
her reaction when Jeremiah had appeared, his kiss. Lucas had seen the love in the girl’s eyes, the fear of him when she thought he would shoot Jeremiah. Struggling to control himself, Lucas took a step back. “You don’t deserve her.”
“Why do you fucking care anyway?”
Why indeed. “Because we’ve ruined enough lives in our time.” Anya’s face flashed through his mind. “I’ll be damned if I let anyone else suffer because of us.”
Jeremiah said nothing, and his silence finally gave Lucas enough time to recover himself. “Someone is targeting us both,” he said, not caring whether Jeremiah was listening. “I had a saboteur almost try to blow up this ship. Someone had fed him the wrong information deliberately, then given him a bomb the boy didn’t know how to work.”
He stared down at his brother, meeting the hard green eyes. “I think somebody is targeting our family, not just you.” Lucas bent down. “So get this through your thick skull: I’ll do whatever I need to survive. But this involves you too.”
The words were a bitter gall; he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Not now, not with what he’d just learned. Jeremiah looked away first, and Lucas straightened. “Throw him back inside the room,” he said, then turned his back on his brother.
The ship was big enough that even with everyone searching, it was nearly an hour before they were given the all clear. They’d have to do a more thorough search to see if Jeremiah’s group had left any tracking devices, but for now the ship was clear. After speaking briefly with Frank and Matthews, Lucas borrowed a duffle and went back downstairs.
Lucy still sat on the bed, and when he opened the door she stood to her feet. The confusion and sorrow he saw etched onto her features made his throat tight. Without a word, he walked over to the dresser and began stuffing clothes into the bag.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be bunking up top with Matthews and Frank. You can have this room to yourself.”
“Why?”
Lucas stayed silent for a moment, unsure what to tell her. Because my brother may not deserve you, but I deserve you even less. “My selfishness ruined the life of one innocent girl already.” He kept his face carefully blank. “I won’t repeat that mistake again.”
She looked away, and Lucas read the guilt on her face. Her obvious regret tore at him; he’d taken advantage of the situation, but clearly she blamed herself. It wasn’t hard to anticipate her next question. “Does Jeremiah know about...”
“He thinks you are my prisoner, and you are. Anything else that’s happened is up to you to tell.” Lucas’ kept his voice even, giving nothing away about how he felt. He couldn’t bare to see her expression, so busied himself grabbing essentials. “You’re free to leave the room, my men have strict orders not to touch you.”
Lucas was at the door, ready to leave, when he heard a whispered plea. “Don’t go.”
His eyes felt closed for a heartbeat and he let out the breath in a quiet sigh. Looking back at the girl on the bed, something he’d thought long dead inside him twisted at the sight of her damp eyes. He set down the bag and walked over to her, kneeling down to his heels. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, and when he idly tucked it behind her ear she leaned into his touch.
“Lucy,” he said, not speaking until she raised her eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t leave.”
“Because...” Her mouth worked silently as she struggled for an answer, but no reply came out. In that silence, whatever spark of hope remaining alive in Lucas’ mind died a small death, and he nodded.
“I thought so.” Standing back to his feet, Lucas resisted the urge to touch her again. Backing away, he turned and let himself out, clicking the door shut carefully behind him.
About the Author
Sara Fawkes is the international bestselling author of the "Anything He Wants" series. She currently resides in California with a codependent dog and two needy conures, but loves seeing the world atop her motorcycle. Writing is her full time dream job, and she couldn't be happier with her new lifetime career. You can find her on Twitter @sarafawkes or her website http://www.sarafawkes.net.
Read more at Sara Fawkes’s site.