by Sandra Owens
“I will. Promise.”
Damn, he didn’t want to leave. He had a bad feeling about her brother and his reason for showing up without telling her he was coming. Not his circus, though. Unable to help it, he shot her brother a warning look before getting in his car. One word from Nichole and he’d do what he was hardwired to do. Protect.
As he drove away, he fought the urge to turn around and go back, to go all caveman on Nichole, and after snarling mine and beating on his chest, he’d take her back to his barbarian cave and let her tie him up.
He chuckled. He’d known exactly what she’d been thinking when she had muttered something about ropes. There wasn’t a rope he couldn’t get out of, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
Acting out the scene from Ghost the other night had been the hottest thing he’d ever done. Walking away from her that same night had been the hardest thing. But he had because he wanted more with her. A big surprise, that. She didn’t know it, but Nichole Masters had him second-guessing himself. That was not something he knew how to deal with.
Back home, he realized he’d forgotten Dakota was at Nichole’s. Since he wasn’t about to leave his dog anywhere near Mark Masters, he got back into his car. As he drove to Nichole’s, he wondered if he’d subconsciously left Dakota there, giving him the excuse to return. Make sure she was okay.
* * *
“Lane said you were screwing around on him. Guess it’s true.”
Nichole glared at her brother. “My private life is none of Lane’s business. Or yours. You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow.”
When he was six, Mark had been diagnosed with leukemia. Both she and her parents had catered to him from that time on, even after he’d been declared cancer free a few years later. That had been a mistake. Not during the time he was sick, but their continuing to baby him once he was well hadn’t done Mark any favors. The brother she’d once adored had grown up to be a selfish, weak man. He couldn’t keep a job and blamed everyone but himself for that.
What he couldn’t see, wouldn’t believe, was that Lane played him like a fiddle. He also refused to believe that Lane had gotten violent with her because Lane swore he never had. It made her angry that her brother would take Lane’s word over hers.
“He loves you, Nic.”
“No, he doesn’t. Lane doesn’t know how to love. He only wants what he can’t have. And if you think he’s been celibate since we broke up, then you’re stupider than I thought.”
Mark shrugged. “He’s a man. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” She stared at him as sadness filled her heart. Her parents refused to admit it, but they really had lost him. The little boy who used to idolize his big sister was gone, replaced by a brother she could barely tolerate. She couldn’t blame Lane for that. Mark had been well on his way to being a poor excuse for a man before Lane entered the picture.
Lane, a master manipulator, recognized a puppet when he saw one, and hadn’t wasted any time getting his hooks in Mark. When Lane pulled Mark’s strings now, Mark danced.
“I’m going to bed. When I get up in the morning, I don’t want to see you here.”
“And where am I supposed to go?”
“I assume you left a good job because Lane beckoned. Go stay with him.” She walked past him, heading for her bedroom.
He grabbed her arm. “Stop being a bitch. You—”
A low growl had both of them swinging their heads toward the sound. Dakota sat in front of Rambo’s kennel, her attention on Mark. Nichole hadn’t even realized that Jack had left without his dog. She wouldn’t attack, would she? Jack had said she only attacked on command, but with the way she was looking at Mark with cold, alert eyes and her ears pinned back, Nichole wasn’t so sure about that. Mark was being an ass, but she didn’t want him mauled by a dog.
“You should let go of my arm,” she quietly told her brother.
As soon as he dropped his hand, Dakota relaxed, but kept her intense focus on Mark. Rambo stuck his nose between the slats and whined, apparently picking up on the tension in the air.
“I’ll take the dogs to my room with me.” She was leery of Dakota for the first time, so she approached slowly. “It’s okay, girl. He’s not going to hurt me.” She opened the kennel door and let Rambo out. “Come on, guys.”
Both dogs followed her down the hallway and into her room. Nichole closed the door, locking it behind her. Rambo licked her legs, ran in a few circles, and then headed for Dakota, who’d parked herself at the door, putting in mind a sentry on guard.
The evening sure hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected or wanted, and what a disappointment that was. She needed to call Jack and see what he wanted to do about Dakota. Both dogs probably had to go out, but first she needed to change into something more comfortable.
She groaned in pleasure after taking off her heels. They were definitely not shoes to spend the night dancing in, but the pain had been worth it with the way Jack’s eyes had devoured her from head to shoes. She slipped on leggings and a T-shirt, then slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. When she reached the door, she heard voices. She put her ear against the wood.
The hell! Furious at hearing Lane talking to Mark, she jerked open the door, forgetting about Dakota. The dog raced out in front of her. “Dakota, stop. Sit.” Surprising her, the dog dropped her butt to the floor at the end of the hallway. Rambo barreled past, but came to a stop next to Dakota, mimicking her. Nichole stood behind them.
“You’re not welcome here, Lane.” She glanced at her brother. “You had no right to let him in.”
“He just wants to talk to you, Nic.”
“There’s not a thing he can say that I want to hear.” When Lane took a step toward her, Dakota growled. “You’d be smart to leave.” She put her hand on Dakota’s head. “This is my guard dog, specifically trained to keep you away from me.”
Rage flashed in Lane’s eyes before he hid it. “Baby, put the damn dogs away.”
“No. Get out of my house. Both of you.”
* * *
When Jack reached Nichole’s house, he scowled at seeing the motorcycle parked behind her car. Stealth was the best plan when one didn’t have intel. He parked on the street in front of the neighbor’s, then eased up to Nichole’s door. Whoever had come in last hadn’t closed it completely, leaving about three inches of space to look through.
The only thing he could see was Nichole’s brother, but the voice speaking was that of her ex. At hearing him call her baby, Jack forgot his stealth plan. He stormed inside, all warrior as he locked eyes on the enemy.
“The lady wants you out of her house.”
Dakota, recognizing they were working a mission, rose from her sitting position, her teeth bared.
Jack let his voice go hard and cold. “My dog wants to sink her teeth into you real bad. You have exactly three seconds to disappear before I give her the command to attack.”
Hatred filled the man’s eyes as he stared back at Jack for a moment, but at least he wasn’t entirely stupid. He backed out of the room. “This ain’t over, Nichole,” he snarled before slamming the door behind him.
Jack doubted that the man was going to go quietly away. He glanced at her brother. “You want him gone, too, Nichole?” He’d like to give Mark benefit of the doubt since he was Nichole’s family, but Jack didn’t trust him.
She studied her brother, her expression showing her disappointment in him. “No, he can stay tonight. But one more trick like that, Mark, and you’ll never be welcome in my house again.”
Jack took that to mean that Mark had let her ex into the house. He was relieved that it hadn’t been Nichole who’d let him in.
“Seriously, Nic, you’re gonna let this asshole—”
“Careful,” Jack said. “My bad side isn’t a good place to be.”
He hated the hurt he saw in Nichole’s eyes. A brother should have his sister’s back, should be the one protecting her. She was not getting that from him, and knowing that only fed Jack’s protective instincts. It also made him want to knock some sense into the boy-man’s head. “I don’t get it, dude. She’s your sister, and the man who just left is bad news. Why would you want him anywhere near her?”
“You don’t know nothing. He’s never mistreated her. He loves her, and you’re messing things up.”
Nichole marched up to her brother. “I’ve told you repeatedly that he has mistreated me.” She bent over and pulled up the leggings on her right leg. “See that scar? That’s a burn mark from when Lane got mad and pushed me against the hot tailpipe of his motorcycle.” She pointed to a small scar on her upper arm. “That one happened when he hit me, and his skull ring cut me.”
Jack saw red. It was a good thing he hadn’t known about those while her ex had still been here.
“He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mark said, but his voice lacked its earlier conviction.
“So he claims.” She sighed. “Go to bed, Mark. I’m tired of talking to you.”
The boy-man—that was how Jack saw him, a boy in a man’s body, not sure of his place in the world—dropped his head, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry. He said he’d never hurt you, and I believed him.”
Rambo was turning in circles, sniffing the floor. “Why don’t you take the dogs out before Rambo gifts you with a puddle to clean up,” Jack said to Nichole. “Give me a minute with your brother.”
Her gaze darted between the two of them. “Just don’t kill him, okay?”
He grinned at her. “I’ll do my best not to.”
She glanced at the door. “What if Lane comes back?”
“Dakota won’t let him near you, but it would still be best to stick close to the house.”
“I will.”
After she was gone, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked straight into Mark’s eyes. “This can go one of two ways. One, I’ll beat some sense into that stupid head of yours, or two, you can swear here and now that you’ll start treating your sister the way a brother should. Your choice. I’m good with either.”
At least the man-child had the grace to blush. “I just thought she was being dramatic...you know, like women tend to be.”
“I don’t know what women you’re used to being around, but Nichole doesn’t have a dramatic bone in her body.” Well, except for playacting out sexy movie scenes, but he wasn’t about to go there with her brother. “I can see that after only knowing her for a few weeks. You’ve known her all her life. You should be the one telling me that.”
“You really like her?”
A bit of avoidance there in admitting he’d been wrong, but Jack let it go. Mark Masters needed a role model, and much to Jack’s chagrin, he was apparently taking on that responsibility. “Yeah, I really like her. And unlike Lane... What’s his last name, anyway?”
“Gregory.”
Jack filed that intel away. Later tonight, he’d start compiling a dossier on the man. “Unlike Lane Gregory, I’ll never leave a scar on her body. Any man who does that to a woman isn’t fit to live.”
Based on how Mark’s eyes widened, Jack figured he probably shouldn’t have said that last part. He had no intention of killing anyone, but there were people in this world who needed to be taught a lesson, and he was the man to do it. In the meantime, it seemed he had made some kind of deal without any prior agreement with himself that he was going to take Nichole’s brother in hand. He was an idiot.
“I’m busy tomorrow, and Wednesday morning I have time booked at the firing range. After that, I’ll stop by if you want to hang out for a couple of hours. Maybe grab some lunch before I have to go to my physical therapy appointment.”
“Can I go with you to the range?”
“Ah...” Hell, why had he mentioned that?
Chapter Ten
Nichole fumed as she walked the dogs. Lane was an ass. Her brother was an ass. And the man who thought he could step in and solve all her problems? He was an ass, too. From the time her brother had gotten sick, she’d been pretty much on her own. Her parents’ attention had been focused on Mark, and rightly so. She’d learned to take care of herself at an early age, and she didn’t need anyone to do it for her.
“Hey,” said the voice that sent shivers down to her toes. Damn him. “Nichole?” Jack said when she kept walking, keeping her back to him. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so bitchy toward him. He’d done nothing but show her respect and had dispatched Lane with little more than a spoken threat.
She stopped, and then turned to face him. “I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.” She really was a bitch. But Lane showing up tended to do that to her.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.” He lowered his gaze to the ground. “My mom taught me that women are to be respected. My dad taught me that you protect your woman. The navy taught me how to do that. I’m sorry if I stepped out of line, but when it comes to you, I guess I don’t think straight.”
Her irritation fizzled at his admission, and she sighed. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m not mad at you. At Lane, yes, and I’m tired of Mark disappointing me. I could really use a hug.”
“Then I’m your man.”
He held out his arms and she walked into his embrace. If only she could just live here, next to his body. And truthfully, if Jack hadn’t shown up, she wasn’t sure what would have happened with Lane. He’d pretty much left her alone until Jack was in the picture, and now he was acting like a peeing dog marking his territory.
Rambo tried to jump up her legs, and she peered down at him. “He wants in on the hug.”
“I’d rather just keep hugging you.” He leaned away and smiled down at her. “You smell better.”
“I sure hope so. Really, though, thanks for coming back. Tonight didn’t go at all like I wanted.”
“Same, but we’ll have other nights. I’m going to head home, but I’m leaving Dakota with you in case your ex comes back. She won’t let him mess with you.”
“I doubt he’ll be back tonight, but thanks.”
“If he does, you call me.”
“Okay.”
She walked him to his car, got another kiss, and then watched him drive away again while wishing the evening had gone a lot differently.
* * *
“Are you still mad at me?” Mark said the next morning.
“I’m less mad than I was last night, but if you ever bring Lane here again, I’m going to have to hurt you.” After putting bowls of food down for Dakota and Rambo, she stirred cream into her coffee, then buttered two slices of wheat toast. Taking her plate and cup to the small kitchen table, she sat across from her brother.
“I won’t, but he said he just wanted to talk to you, and that you’d been blowing him off.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see the harm in it.”
“The harm in it is that it’s not up to you to decide who I talk to.”
“Got it.” He finished his bowl of oatmeal with sliced strawberries.
When he’d been sick, he’d learned to eat healthy, and he still did. He exercised daily and had routine checkups. Even though it had been over ten years since he’d been declared cancer free, she knew the fear of it happening again was a black cloud hanging over his head.
Her problem with him was his immaturity, and for that, she blamed both herself and their parents for babying him. It was as if he believed he was living on borrowed time, so he should get what he wanted when he wanted it. A steady job wasn’t one of those things he wanted.
“Do you think Jack was serious about taking me shooting with him?”
“Shooting?”
“Yeah, he said I could go to the firing range with him.”
“I don’t thin
k that’s a good idea.” What was Jack thinking? Her brother had no business shooting guns.
The stubborn expression on his face was one she’d seen many times when he was determined to get something he wanted. “I’m past the age of having to ask permission, Nic. I just wanted to know if you thought he meant it.”
“I think Jack doesn’t say something he doesn’t mean, so yes. When are you going back to Florida?” She wouldn’t mind at all if he transferred his idolization from Lane to Jack, and if bonding at a firing range achieved that, so be it. Even better if he learned to be his own man, but she wasn’t sure he knew how.
Golden brown eyes—the same color as hers—shifted away. Crap, he wasn’t going back, which meant he would be her responsibility.
“Mark, Dad found you a good job. You need—”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard it all already from Mom and Dad. I need to grow up, keep a job, take care of myself, and not mooch off you and them.” He picked up his spoon and clanged it around in the empty oatmeal bowl. “I can do that here.”
“You didn’t when you lived here before.” He’d bounced from one job to the next because he was bored, or they didn’t treat him right, or just pick a reason. He’d used them all. Her brother was a good-looking man, almost pretty. His hair was darker than hers, and he was a head taller. Girls loved him, and he flirted shamelessly, but he didn’t have the attention span for a serious relationship.
It was time to stop catering to him. “I’ll give you two weeks to find a job and a place of your own.” He’d lived with her off and on, and he was far from the ideal roommate. He was a slob, he figured if she was already going to make her own dinner, she might as well make enough for him, and she’d sat up too many nights waiting for him to come home so she’d know he made it back safely. She wasn’t going to do it again. Besides, with Mark here, she and Jack would have no privacy, and that wasn’t going to work for her. “Since the clock is ticking, you should start on that job search.”