by D. C. Stone
His eyes snapped and narrowed. “Bunnies? A fuck? What kind of man do you think I am?” he thundered. His face etched with livid, lovely lines of hurt and anger.
“Why so many women?” she asked, her voice softer this time but no less angry. It really did hurt that he did what he did with all those women.
“Why not?” he snapped.
Again, she tossed her hands. She was beginning to feel like a damn bird. But the pain was so much, and it caused so much energy to boil inside that she needed to just let it out. She knew last night would come back to haunt her. But right now, this morning, this moment, she only wanted to find her daughter, dammit!
“Do you even love any of them?” she asked, although she really didn’t know why.
The anger on his face cooled. Night and day came over his features. He clenched his jaw, set it as stubborn as a mule.
“You can’t answer that question, can you?” she pushed.
He glanced down and away from her.
“This is what I’m talking about,” she continued.
His phone started to ring. They both ignored it.
“I may speak Spanish, but I’m fluent in English, preciosa. And I know you are, too, so how about you put together an actual statement and clear it up? What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything. I was asking. But apparently, you’re going to pick and choose what you want to answer. Fine. I’ll answer this, and then, can we please move on? I may be a stereotypical female when it comes to sex, but I’m attached to my emotions, my feelings. You refuse to comprehend any of it. I see you. I know you. I’ve been around you so damn long.” Her voice started to shake. Oh, no, she would not break down. Not now. “You use physical attentions as a substitute for emotions. Tell me I’m wrong.”
His lips thinned. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to have this conversation.” He glanced at his phone as it continued to ring.
“Of course,” she snapped.
His gaze whipped back to hers. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She sighed, feeling defeated. “Just proving a point.”
He let out a heavy breath and scrubbed at his face. His phone cut off, and the room fell silent again. “If both parties are willing to…indulge, then what’s the problem with it? I’m safe, I use protection, get tested. What’s the damn deal with sex?”
His phone started ringing again. She squeezed her eyes shut, calling for patience. “Get your phone, Dwayne.”
“Fuck the phone. Talk to me.”
A lump, thick in her throat, lodged in her windpipe. “Sex isn’t a substitute for love,” she choked. Interesting that she should say that after all Hailey’s father put her through. Visions of her ex-husband between his secretary’s thighs made her flinch.
“Don’t you dare put me in the same circle as him.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but he cut her off.
“Don’t you dare lie to me. I see it on your face. You think just because I’ve been with a few females that it makes me like him. Let me make this clear.” He took a step forward. “I am nothing like your ex-husband. I never cheat. Every woman I’m with knows that I don’t commit and that there are others.”
She knew it, but his words still stabbed her chest. Of course he didn’t commit. He never had. This was her point entirely.
“That’s exactly what I meant,” she whispered, then said louder, “and it’s exactly why last night can’t happen again. I need more. Unless you can sit here and tell me that it would eventually come, that maybe, just maybe you could grow to love me, I would rather us just break this off now. Clean cut for everyone. More of a chance that we can be friends down the road.”
His expression softened, but his next words were still hard to hear. “I don’t believe in love, Brooke.”
His face was so resolute she bit her lip. “Then this is for the best. You really should get that.” She gestured to the phone.
“But, wait—” he started.
“No, please! I can’t handle this right now. If you have ever listened to me, then please understand and respect this request. Just get your phone.” Despite already having taken a shower, despite coming from the bathroom, she turned and went back to it. She needed the escape and yeah, call her a coward, but the pain in her chest was too damn much. She refused to break down in front of this man and let him see how deep his words cut.
She was lying to them both when she said they needed the clean break. He had wrapped around her heart, something she’d known would happen, something that terrified her. Their friendship was important to her, and a normal part of Hailey’s life. And one night of sex had pretty much shattered it all.
* * * *
Dwayne stomped over to his phone, yanked it out of his pants, and snapped it open. “What!”
“Well.” Luke’s deep voice vibrated through the line. “Someone seems to have pissed in your Wheaties this morning.”
Dwayne sighed and walked over to the bathroom door. The vision of Brooke’s red face, eyes filled with tears, haunted his mind. His brother didn’t deserve the treatment his frustration drew, but neither did she. He still didn’t speak but listened to the soft sobs coming through the wood. Damn it. He wanted to go inside and comfort her, take her in his arms and talk to her.
Now wasn’t the time, though. Luke reminded him they needed to move today and do so soon. With his brothers coming in town, they were more than prepared to act. It humbled him that they were putting their lives on hold in order to help him. Then again, that was what brothers were for. That, and the ability to have a never-ending supply of embarrassing stories.
“Dude, seriously.” Luke’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Did someone piss or shit in your cereal?”
Dwayne moved from the door. “No. Nothing like that. Although I really hate myself this morning.”
He heard the frown through the phone as his younger brother sighed. “All right, when mister high and mighty starts cutting himself down, something’s wrong. At the risk of sounding like a chick, what the hell happened?”
Dwayne shook his head. “Nothing. Just female drama.”
And as if that summed it up. “Ah, gotcha.”
“Right,” he answered. And in brotherly communication, the topic closed. “What’s the plan today?”
Luke changed gears and downshifted, relaying the information. Apparently, last night his brothers had pulled into town, Charlie and Trent arriving an hour ago. The plan was to head over to the club this afternoon, which, from the clock was two hours away, and start to scout the place out. Once they all had a solid feel, they would head inside after dusk and try to blend in. Luke and Matt, being the more “colorful” of the group, read: able to blend in more to the “bad” side of the crowd with their longer hair and tattoos, would try to work their way into the back. Mike, the ever politically correct Secret Service agent of the group, had already coordinated with local LEO and everyone was in on the plan. If they found—no—once they found Hailey, they would wait for her to exchange business. Then she, along with the rest of the transacting club, would be taken down and arrested. It was for Hailey’s safety they were doing it this way. She needed to be arrested at the same time as everyone else so as to protect her future. This would make retribution less likely.
The guys that ran this type of operation were more likely to hold grudges. They didn’t need her life to be threatened for years to come. They needed to shut this down and get her home.
“When you explain it like that, it sounds easy,” Dwayne said.
Luke clucked. “Don’t jinx us, bro. You know as well as I do, nothing ever goes off smooth. Not even a traffic stop.”
“Marshals conduct traffic stops now?”
“Bite me,” Luke snapped. “Not at all, but maybe you should ask Matt about his latest seizure. Seems the DEA agent is getting into more than drugs nowadays.”
Cursing and laughter filled the line and Dwayne smiled, picturing the two youngest go
ing at it on the other end.
“All right, girls,” he teased. “Settle down. I’ll get dressed, get Brooke ready, and then meet you at the Tick-Tock Diner down the street in about an hour. Have everyone ready to go then and we’ll head over.”
“Sounds good, princess.”
“I’ll give you princess, fucker.”
Laughter cut off as the line went dead. Assholes.
But he smiled.
* * * *
Less than an hour later, Brooke leaned against the red vinyl covering of the chair and took in her surroundings. Booths lined the outer wall of the fifties-style diner, colored intermediately with red-and-white leather. Scattered inside the outline were freestanding tables, like the one she sat at, where they held the ability to push them closer to fit additional parties. Inside that was a classic car she couldn’t recognize.
Dwayne slid into a seat next to her and drew the attention of almost every female in the room. Goddammit, how in the hell could he be so cool and calm? Her nerves felt frayed as if anything that touched her would send her crumpling to the floor with shock.
Dwayne sprawled back in the red pleather chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. His eyes lit with laughter, twin beacons of emeralds cresting over the horizon, as his attention turned behind her.
Brooke peeked over her shoulder, prepping herself for this reunion. She froze, dumbfounded. As with the few times she’d interacted with the brothers, each time in their presence was a whole new visual treat.
Four huge men walked their way, each moving with a deadly grace, the type of walk that didn’t waste any energy. A loose swagger that spoke and defined confidence. The scrape of a chair told her Dwayne stood and yet still, she couldn’t take her gaze away from these men.
Dwayne was adopted, but if the physical appearances hadn’t said they weren’t related by blood, one wouldn’t know. Their bond was almost unbreakable, something both the brothers and their adoptive parents had worked to develop. Although they weren’t related by blood, these men were definitely brothers.
Brooke turned back to Dwayne and stood as if on autopilot. He greeted each of his brothers with that whole man hug, slap-on-the-back kind of way she never understood. God forbid two men who loved each other show some sort of physical affection. Just like, God forbid, the New Jersey governor should learn to stop talking as soon as his point was across.
But both hopes were pointless.
Only after each embraced, while she stood there making her best impression of a goldfish looking out of a bowl—damn the universe!—did Dwayne turn to her.
“Brooke, let me reintroduce you to these hoodlums I sometimes choose to claim.”
For a moment, the goldfish impression stuck, and now she outright gaped. Dwayne’s smile lit up his entire face as if that was all it took to make the world spin on its axis. Ridiculously handsome even when his face was stoic, the wide curve of his full, plump lips and the crinkles of lines around his eyes turned him from panty-dropping good looking to clothes-disappearing-just-take-me-here-and-now.
In addition, the audacity that he could be smiling at her, affecting her body this way, really burrowed under her skin like a chigger. But in a way she was grateful for the distraction from the reason they had to meet with his brothers. Anything to get her mind off all the ways Hailey could be suffering right at that minute.
With a teeny-tiny portion of her brain, she turned and greeted a man about a foot taller than her. She craned her neck—way back—in order to meet deep brown eyes sprinkled with gold dust. Like his brother, creased lines formed around his wide-set eyes, and full lips curved with reception. Short brown hair, slightly longer on the top, fell across his forehead with an easygoing grace, sort of like the vibe pulsing off him.
“You should remember Mike. He’s an agent with the United States Secret Service, and, despite his mammoth size, still my little brother.”
“Pfft,” Mike replied. “By six months, bro. But we’ll discuss that and the last whooping I gave you later.” He turned that amber gaze her way and as if his stare was not captivating enough, his voice rolled over her, a deep bass like a sensual caress.
“Brooke, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Mike took her hand between both of his baseball glove sized ones and gave a small squeeze.
“Back ’atcha, Mike. Thank you for coming.” Her voice did not shake—thank God. Inside, though, her stomach did its version of J-E-LL-O on a roller coaster. And although Mike had always reminded her of Josh Holloway from Lost, her reactions had nothing to do with the bedroom/surf-boy man. She wanted to lean on the strength of someone, anyone, who would hold her up and tell her everything would be okay.
Dwayne’s gaze, his knowing scrutiny to every movement she did, wasn’t lost on her. It was like a brand, and Lord help her if she didn’t acknowledge it with a quick shift of her eyes.
Green emerald stones sparked with humor. While he smiled, his body relaxed and the words flowing from his mouth carefree, there was some sort of censure in his eyes. He moved closer and placed a warm palm on her back. The contact had her chest constricting.
“Easy, preciosa.” His voice brushed close to her temple, low enough it didn’t carry. “Breathe. They are here to help.”
Brooke drew in a deep breath, determined to push down the rising panic threatening to burst free. While she felt the urgency to get to Hailey, one that had her wanting to spring to the club ASAP, this other building emotion bullying its way up her throat was foreign and confusing. She wanted to lean on Dwayne for that comfort and him alone. Like her mind and body gravitated to him and knew without a doubt he’d never let her fall.
Her cheeks burned as, once again, she realized she gaped. The low clearing of a throat brought her attention back around. Mark Wahlberg’s doppelganger stood before her wearing a loose navy blue shirt with a gray sports coat. Jake. Jeans covered legs seemed able to crush her neck with one flinch.
“Brooke, you remember my other baby brother.”
“Hey!” Jake laughed.
Dwayne matched the chuckle and with it being right next to her, her entire body focused on the sound and craved more. Her mind sluggishly struggled to place who he was.
“Yeah, yeah. Now he goes by NYPD Detective Jake Gonzalez.”
Jake gently shook her hand and smiled with the warmth of an immediate friend. “It’s been a long time, Brooke. We’re going to get her back. Have no worries.”
Now that she could breathe, she gulped in air like someone who had almost drowned. Yes, this was exactly what she needed to hear. But…
Damn it, Dwayne, your touch! Stop touching me, please!
She wanted to shout at him, but each time she shifted away, he followed her movement as if they were two pieces of a magnet fitting together. She tried her best to focus on greeting each of his brothers, but it seemed with every movement, each breath, she became more and more aware of Dwayne. The side of her face itched. He still watched her. Taking a chance, she glanced over.
You stupid, stupid girl.
Did she wear her feelings so open on her face? Could he see the turbulent wash of emotions? Because, make no doubt about it, the sweet desire and affection he must have been experiencing was like the front page of the NY Times, reading in fifty font print across his face.
What is this? Her heart seized in her chest.
“You’re going to have to pardon my language, Brooke,” a low voice said, pulling her attention from Dwayne’s face, “but you two are going to have to stop looking at each other like that. My boy parts are starting to twitch.”
All the men at the table started laughing and Dwayne’s voice rose over the warm-sounding humor, and again Brooke was grateful for the distraction. Her mind kept conjuring images of what Hailey was forced to endure, and none of it, from those thoughts to her realization of her dependence on Dwayne, could she control.
“Luke,” Dwayne barked out in a rush of laughter. “You asshole.”
A hand tightened on her hip and sh
e turned around to greet Luke, the baby of the bunch.
“Brooke say hello to US Deputy Marshal Luke Gonzalez.”
She coughed and eyed the tall, dark, and handsome man. “It’s good to see you again, Luke.” Of all the brothers, Luke had been the most reclusive of the bunch. His hair was short and as dark as the center of a black hole, which was saying something. But then her attention shifted to his eyes.
A hematite stone was the first thing to come to mind. He had a steady gaze, but the metallic gray seemed to swirl as if the irises were in constant motion. And no, not moving around with an intense, protective scan like the rest of them. More like the color was a liquid, hot and molten. She peered closer, taking note of the baby blue and soft purple dancing within. Since she hadn’t had a whole lot of interaction with him, this was the first time she noticed.
“Amazing,” she breathed.
Dwayne let out a strangled cough next to her and she jerked back, pulling away from Luke’s captivating gaze. Her cheeks burned hot as the desert, but an overwhelming sense of relief sagged her shoulders at his pink cheeks, too.
Oh my, God. He is too adorable.
She must have said it aloud because Dwayne made an animalistic sound next to her and Luke pulled his gaze away fast, like lightning struck. His lips curved and he rubbed the back of his neck. Colors danced along his arm, tattoos on display. Now that she noticed, dotted along his neck were tiny blackbirds curving up as if flying around his nape. Beneath those were a bunch of black lines. She couldn’t make out what completed the design, as his black shirt concealed it, but boy was she curious.
Still feeling the pull, with a sigh, she resigned to a key point and refused to deny it any longer. Able to catalog all of these details using about 0.1 percent of her brain, her attention was still glued to Dwayne. She was ridiculously clued into his presence and his handsome smile, his addicting gaze. The other 99.9 percent of her brain was occupied with two thoughts…