Not. I will so not be fine. It’s Saturday night, which means that most everyone in the building will be out or watching TV at ear-deafening volume. I’m a little scared still, though admittedly it’s lessened over the last few minutes as I spoke to Kimber. And now that I’ve reminded myself about the precautions I’ve taken and listened to her rave about my fighting skills, I’m at least breathing in more than a pant as I sit quietly and try to remind myself that this was a random attack.
Yeah, that’s it, Evie, random, as in just happened and the odds are low that it will happen again.
Once I have that settled, I feel calm enough to pour a glass of red with the pills they gave me for the headache that’s been abating slowly all day. By the time that is done, I’m tired and relaxed enough that settling onto the bed and closing my eyes isn’t a nightmare, and I actually do fall asleep relatively easily.
I dream of nothing really, just weird images of shadows and for some reason, Jericho is always there, his big-ass body standing between me and everything that comes at me. That makes me feel like a ton of cow shit, seeing as how I railed on him like a fishwife when he called me at the hospital and started yelling, demanding that I get my ass to Mayberry, where I know I’ll be one orange jumpsuit away from a chain gang, consisting of me and any poor fool that so much as smiles at me.
That’s my big brother though. The guy is grumpy, surly, and any word you can think of that has a negative meaning that leans toward hardheaded and unpleasant, and yet with women, he’s a sweetheart. He’s never rude unless they ask for it, and he’d slap a man into the grave for hurting one.
He’s protective too, something I actually like and resent at the same time because it shows he cares, the way he can’t ever really bring himself to say, while also driving me bat shit crazy.
I’m a glass half full kind of girl; I said that already, but with Jericho, that glass is either sporting a hole that’s pissing fluid, or it’s overflowing to the point that it aggravates my neat-freak tendencies.
***
Loud pounding at the door wakes me what feels like minutes later but must be hours, as I crack my lids and see that it’s fully light out but still hazy enough to tell me that it’s not that late yet.
“Open the door! Jericho sent me.”
My head feels like hell, I have bad breath, and my hair probably resembles a dark brown, almost black nest of cotton balls as I shove up and strain my ears again.
“Hey! You leave my Evie alone now, you hear? She ain’t well after she got hurt, and I don’t care what you say or how you glare at me.”
Manny sounds ready to crap himself even as he yells this, and I feel my lips twitch when another loud pounding echoes around the apartment.
“Evaline! Open the door, goddammit. Jericho sent me, and I need to talk to you.”
My groan is loud enough to make my head swim as it starts thumping again, and I push myself out of bed with a motherfucker of vehement denial.
I swear on the silk I’ve been hoarding and hiding in my desk at the studio that I will murder Jericho Evans in his sleep if he ignored my words and sent one of his Army pals my way.
No offense, but I don’t like those Jarheads much. One tried to come onto me so hard I probably know what his dick looks like without having seen it, and the other kept telling me he’s willing to try a bit more cushion when he’s pushin’.
Offensive much?
The other one was so toasted—along with Mr. I-want-to-show-you-my-balls—I don’t think I even registered on his radar at all. Just about the only one I like is Nick Storm, and that’s considering Jericho is my blood.
Let’s just say I don’t like his attitude too much, which if the continued pounding on my door is anything to go by, he still has not changed.
“Shut that racket up you imbecile! Can’t a girl recover in peace?” I screech, as I yank the door open, my temper riled enough that my head may as well be on fire for all the attention I pay it.
Okay. Tongue, please roll back into mouth. Nipples, you are a traitorous embarrassment.
That’s all I can allow myself to think, as everything inside me freezes the minute I meet the steely blue-gray eyes of the hunk, hunk, hunk at my door.
Holy sweet Jesus. My clam just may have swooned, or crawled back into my body to conspire with my womb. I’m so spellbound and taken aback at him that I don’t notice his glare or the snarl he gives off when he leans in closer and shakes his head.
“Christ! He was so fucking right! What the hell are you doing just yanking your door open that way, Evaline, and for fuck’s sake, clothes.”
“Clothes? What about clothes? Should I take them off? Because I am so on board with—”
“Goddammit! You’re teasing now? When you just opened your door to a man who could have been anybody? A killer? The guy who attacked you?” he rages, shoving Manny out of the way to stomp past me. “Close the door already.”
“But you could be a killer,” I squeak, stepping out into the hallway and closer to Manny.
The man, God, what was his name again? Well, he turns back to me with narrowed eyes and does not seem at all amused by me, or the nervously giggling, pink-cheeked Manny as we both back away slowly and glance left to where his open apartment door is.
“Evaline, get in here right now before I call Jericho and tell him exactly how inept you are at caring for yourself.”
Full system reboot! My brain just stops macking, like instantly, and I feel my left eye narrow to a slit when he stops in the doorway, folds his arms over his chest, and peers down at me with a superior attitude that rubs me rawer than raw.
“Inept?”
“Inept! You just got attacked a day ago; you look like a truck played peek-a-boo with your face; your damn boobs are all over the place; and you open the door without once asking for identification? I got more friction from fat Cherub than I thought possible, and yet the victim just waltzes on out as if life’s a breeze.”
That snarl is way too hot for the situation, and I know to have a talk with myself later, as I draw myself up, ignoring all embarrassment over the fact that my boobs are peeking through my white silk top, or the fact that my shorts are not appropriate for hallway wear.
This chump, this, this…gorilla just called me inept. If not for the fact that I start feeling exactly that, I think we’d have been fine. But I do. I feel a blush hit my pale skin and register the goose bumps I can’t avoid anytime I get embarrassed and that does it for me.
“Listen, you primate! I was just fine seconds ago until your mean ass started pounding on my door, waking me from a perfectly good nightmare! I never asked for you to come here, and by God, I am just fine all by myself. Manny has my back.”
As arguments go, that one is pretty flimsy, and I do admit that, since the man in question starts giggling and blushing as if I just gave him a glimpse at the good stuff.
“Him?” The guy snorts, giving us both a very insulting head-to-toe glare. “Cherub here couldn’t rescue a fly from his soda glass without breaking the damn glass. Why? Why me, God?” he mumbles, grabbing my arm in a tight grip and yanking me into the apartment. “I got this, chubs.”
“You…you…a-amoeba!”
Okay, so that’s not original sounding, but it’s all I have as he pushes me toward the couch and shoves me down with a snarl.
“Gee, my feelings. Crushed.”
“Sarcasm? Honestly? Should I laugh before you kill me, asshole?”
“My name is Blaze Peters.”
“God, even a classic serial killer name,” I say, as I moan dramatically, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead in a mock faint. “Oh, Jericho, I should have listened to you and run on home.”
“Cut it out! Take this shit seriously, Evaline.”
He’s not pacing or doing anything men usually do when they get annoyed, nuh-uh, I had to go and get the silent glarer of the bunch. Yay me for that, I think gloomily as he whips out his phone and starts stabbing at the screen.
�
��She is insane.”
Huh? Now wait just a hot minute, I think, curling my lip. I’m not crazy, inept, or freaking defenseless. Has no one remembered that I kicked the guy’s ass but good? So well, in fact, I should be a freaking cage fighter with what I got going on.
“Yeah! And she opened the door as if my yelling your name should mean automatic entry. No, how the hell do I keep her safe when she’s a moron?”
“Moron?! I’ll show you a moron, you freaking ape. Give me that,” I say with a snarl, kicking my heel into his kneecap and grabbing the phone as he falls while I jump up and scamper away.
“Really! You sent the world’s biggest anus to pester me?”
Jericho’s chuckle is not the least bit appreciated, especially when Blaze rises with a snarl and comes after me. I’m no dummy. The man is easily as big if not bigger than my attacker, made of pure muscle and freaking pissed to boot.
I hop over the couch—just as he reaches out for me—and continue to yell into the phone, as I dodge his hands and ignore my swaying boobs.
“He’s good at his job, Evie. He’ll protect you.”
“From what? He’s a beast! He came to my door, pounding like a gorilla and damn near had a heart attack about the fact that I had to answer it in my sleepwear because he was so heavy fisted I was worried the door would collapse. I don’t want a babysitter, Jericho.”
I’m screaming by now, panting as I duck and roll beneath the little table in the middle of the room to avoid his grasping hands. I may be small, but that also means I can move fast to avoid big idiots like him.
“He stays. Don’t argue! It’s that, or I drive down there and drag your ass home with me.”
“Why? I am fine. This was a one-time thing, some freaking asshole probably looking to score for his next hit.”
Blaze lunges for me again, but this time I miscalculate and the tricky beast corrects when I dodge left, his hand landing right on my boob and squeezing before he pulls away and gasps—I kid you not—as if he just touched another guy’s nuts.
“Evie. He stays. Now give Blaze the phone.”
I do, but only because I need that arm to punch him after I throw the phone at his head and lash out.
“That’s for calling me inept.” Gut shot. “That’s for calling me a moron.” Solar plexus. “And that’s for touching my boob.” Nuts.
I don’t reach them though. In fact, I end up on my back on the couch with the idiot pinning me with his hips as he yells at Jericho and then ends the call on some very nasty cursing that makes me cringe.
“You listening, little girl? Good. I am here. That’s not my choice, fucking trust me, since I have better things to do than protect a maniac who probably pissed off a client with her ugly clothes. Shut up, do as I tell you to, and for God’s sake, put on some fucking clothes.” He snarls before jumping away with a hiss.
Feeeeelings, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, feeelings. I can’t remember how the song goes, but I feel a Barbara moment coming on, as he sneers at my boobs in disgust and points to my room. Side bar! I don’t think the mumbled words I just sang to myself are a real Barbara Streisand song, that’s just the way I sing that shit.
“I really do not like you, fart face—truest words! You stay? You sleep on the couch and stay out of my way,” I say with a huff, covering my offended shrinking boobs before my nipples can invert and crawl in beside my lungs.
Blaze snorts and rolls his eyes.
“As if I’d want to share, lady. You ain’t got a damn thing I want. Get dressed and come out here. We need to talk, and before you run your nasty little mouth off again, I am warning you, you don’t cooperate and I’ll tie you up, shove you in the trunk, and drive you to your brother. I have better things to do than listen to a five-year-old girl insult me.”
Hmph.
Feeeeeeeeelings.
Chapter Four
Blaze
The only thing worse than getting stuck with a shit assignment is getting stuck with a shit assignment where the package is a smoking-hot, big-boobed, blue-eyed goddess with an ass I could sink my teeth into and a wax job that makes my underserviced dick do handsprings in delight.
Evaline Evans is more than hot. She’s sex on legs with a husky voice and a scent that makes me want to drool and beg her just to exist beside me if that’s all I can get.
Holy shit, where is the plump little thing I saw at Jericho’s wedding, and for that matter, just how the hell was I wasted enough to not see all this? I feel cheated and unaccountably furious as the ramifications of this hit me.
I’m stuck with this woman for however long it takes me to find the guy who broke into her place, and I haven’t had sex in long enough that the sight of her has me groaning in physical agony.
I want her. I wanted her the moment she opened the door and her boobs greeted me first. I damn near almost broke something locking my muscles when she stood staring at me the way a woman on her monthlies stares at chocolate and ice cream.
I swear, I just about whimpered when she looked me over and licked her lips, and that’s before her nipples responded so quickly. My go-to in difficult situations is growling, and that’s exactly what I found myself doing when I realized how easy it would be for anyone to come at her.
How the hell she beat the shit out of someone she described to the cops as being at least five ten and over a hundred and eighty pounds is beyond me. She looks small and fragile enough to fall over in a strong wind.
Never mind what would happen if I—
“You want coffee or what!” she yells, stomping out of her room in a flowing skirt, wraparound tangerine bodice, and a head band to tame the messy show of curls she just shoved up and pinned. She looks like a dorky version of a hippie with accessories and the glasses perched on her nose, and for some reason, the mixture of free spirited and staid has me drooling, as she slams into the kitchen and starts the coffee, her mutterings colorful and adorable.
“Yes, please.”
I take a seat at the high counter separating the living room from the kitchen and watch as she grabs a packet of muffins and butter and slams them down in front of me.
“Eat.”
The coffee takes another few minutes, and I use the tense silence to evaluate the situation. I spent last night reading up on her as Lex drove us all the way here, my mind free to gather everything I have on Evaline Evans.
She was fostered out at the age of four, just as Jericho once said. Only instead of what he once believed when he was younger, Evaline wasn’t taken away; she was given up by her parents.
She stayed relatively well there until she graduated at seventeen and the foster parents let her go so they could foster another, younger child. After that, Jericho discovered her, and from what little he told us about Evaline, she was a nose-to-the-grindstone student, who flew through her studies and even did some stuff on the side.
She worked for a popular designer her first year out of college and then took a risk, opening her own business with her best friend. The line they created was something about Geeks, which confuses me since everything I saw on the website was flowing and yet so staid it shouldn’t have been sexy.
It wasn’t, till Evaline walked out wearing one of her own creations and I almost gaped. She looks like a cross between a flower child, all wild and free, a tribal princess, and a dork.
That’s the only way I can describe it, and yet it just…works. She’s sexy as fuck in all that shit, and she has got to know it.
“Okay, so…you’re here and I either have to accept that or risk my mean big brother coming down and kidnapping my ass. I can’t have that since I have a big meeting this next week with some very exclusive boutiques. That said, I don’t want you here. I don’t know you but from what I’ve seen so far, I don’t like you much. About the only thing you have going for you is that brooding hotness, and I estimate that will last about as long as the coffee,” she says, plonking a cup down in front of me, as she sits, grabs a muffin, and slathers it in butter.
“Look, Evaline—”
“Evie. Only my foster dad ever called me Evaline, and he only did it to irritate me. My name is Evie.”
“Fine. Evie. Jericho is convinced that what happened on Friday is worse than we both think, and he won’t let up until I find out what’s going on, or find the suspected druggie burglar who attacked you. On top of that, I have to stay glued to your side, or that crazy ass will be down here so fast your head will spin. I can’t leave without doing that since he called in a debt I can’t refuse to honor. So do me a favor, sweetheart, don’t make this harder than it has to be. I need to know everything that happened.”
I read the police report that Lex got when he hacked their database, but I’ve interrogated people before and I know they always leave out the most pertinent details when in shock. Looking at the bruises she’s tried to cover beneath cosmetics, she must have suffered a bit of that besides being concussed and confused.
Her face sets, and I fight a deep respect when she takes a deep breath and stiffens her spine.
“I went out with my partner for drinks after work on Friday and, well, I had a little too much, so I stayed longer to clear my head before attempting to drive. By the time I got in, it was just going on ten and…”—her shoulders shrug—“I came home, and he was in here without my knowing.”
“No. Everything. I want to know what you noticed when you walked in, if you thought of something in the elevator. Give me the smallest details you can remember, even if you think they’re redundant.”
“Um, I got home. I think it was nine fifty-eight? I think that’s what the dash clock said. Anyway, I was just walking in when Merle called down to me from her window and asked me if I remembered my rent. I told her I did and then offered her daughter a job. She agreed to tell her, and I came in and got in the elevator. I was thinking about Jericho, actually, for some weird reason.”
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 32