by J. B. Havens
“I honestly don’t know what to fucking say to you right now.” Jordon slapped his hand away, refusing to meet him halfway.
“Chris…”
He cut me off with a slash of his hand. “You never told me about this asshole. Never. Save it, Bea; I don’t want to hear it right now.” He slammed his perceived rival’s shoulder with his own on his way to the door, knocking Carter back a step. My lover, boyfriend, partner, whatever the fucking term was, jerked his coat off its hook. “I’ll be back when I’m back. Don’t fucking wait up.” He slammed the door shut behind him, the roar of his Land Rover overly loud in the silence he’d left behind.
“Well, who wants a drink? Personally, I need one to wash down all the angst around here.” Flynn walked to the bar and poured a glass of scotch, one of the benefits of living in Scotland—easy access to excellent liquor.
“Make mine a double.” Following, Carter unbuttoned his coat and flung it onto a chair carelessly, revealing a soft grey t-shirt. “I feel a grilling coming on.” He sauntered over to the bar like the king of the universe and accepted a glass from Flynn. I stared at his left arm, waiting for the short sleeve to pull up as he moved. There was no tattoo. Back on our first and last mission together, Carter had been sporting a special kind of semi-permanent tattoo inked on his arm. He’d needed it to solidify his cover in the neo-Nazi group he’d infiltrated.
“You know you didn’t have to do that, Carter. You could have just given me a hug or some shit. The kiss was a little much.”
“Sounds like a case of the lady protesting too much. You liked it; but you don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I have other fish to fry.” His hair was long, tied back at the base of his neck, the dirty-blonde locks shining in the firelight. His blue eyes flashed as he caught me staring. It was like we were on an island; the rest of the men in the room didn’t exist for either of us right then. Rook was holding up the wall, stoic as ever. Flynn was handing out drinks and not bothering to disguise his curiosity. The others were a combination of shocked and fascinated.
“Why are you here? I mean, really?”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to everyone?” He quickly changed the subject.
“Didn’t you read their fucking files?” I grinned, knowing I had him.
“Sure, but I want to put faces with names. The big quiet one over there is Rook. Him, I’ve actually heard of. There were some boys in Russia who whispered of the dark man named Rook.”
Rook shrugged and pushed off the wall. “Yeah, want a prize?” Walking closer, he stopped in front of us. “Look, Mic, I know he’s your buddy or whatever, but I don’t like the look of him. Roza is sleeping; I’m going to join her.”
“Well, I just love it when people talk about me like I’m not here.” Carter tipped back his glass and drained it. “Any other lovely people for me to meet?”
“Nickoli and Roza. Jones, our tech guy who made a brief appearance earlier. He’s back in his command module as we’ve started calling it.”
Carter was looking at the vaulted ceiling with the intricate molding and the cheerful fire as he turned in circles to take it all in. “I didn’t figure you for a castle dweller, Mic. I should call you princess instead of sweetheart. Sweetheart has so much history though…” His voice trailed off, talking to himself more than me it seemed.
“History that I need to discuss with Jordon before you cause any more damage.” I glared at him, upset with both of us. Carter made me stumble; he always had. There was something about him that caused my bitch to take a back seat to his alpha. I fucking hated it and he knew it.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Where do I sleep? The couch looks like it’s from the Nixon administration.”
“If I had a dungeon, you’d sleep there. But the previous owners turned it into a home theater. You can have the tower room; follow me.”
He grabbed the duffel bag that I hadn’t noticed him drop by the door earlier and followed me up the grand staircase. “Such a shame. I do love a good dungeon; they’re usually such a good time.”
“Stop it, ya perv.” I smacked his arm, earning myself a spine-tingling glare. I had almost forgotten that look of his Dom coming out. “Carter, you’re wasting your time. That glare isn’t going to work on me anymore; I’m not the same person you knew way back when.” Breaking his stare, I continued up the steps. “Your room doesn’t have an attached bath and it’s in the least renovated part of the castle. Be damn careful on the steps.” We walked down the long hallway in silence. I spared a glance at the room that I shared with Chris. It was dark and empty, something I would need to rectify.
“You would be a bratty sub—not that you’d ever submit. Does he make you happy?” His sudden subject change threw me and I gave myself a minute to catch up.
“Yes. Completely. He’s my equal in every way. Actually, he reminds me a lot of you.” I opened a narrow door at the end of the hallway and showed him the spiral stairs leading up to the tower room. “There’s a gas fireplace in there if you need it. Make yourself at home. And there’s an intercom near the door—press one for the staff and they’ll get you anything you need.” I was anxious to find Chris and explain everything.
“Wait.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop. “I hope I didn’t upset him too much. But I had to come… I needed to know you were okay.” His hand rubbed his chest over his heart. “You’re one of the good ones, one of the few that I really care about. What that fucker did to you…” He shook his head, sending a few loose strands to fall over his cheeks. “I wish I could kill him again for you.”
“No need. He died a horrible death on a cold and dirty concrete floor. Then I went to Russia and destroyed the men who sold those girls. I’m a big girl, Carter. I’ve got this. Chris… helped me get through it in a way that no one else could. There are still dreams, still… flashbacks and triggers, but it’s getting better. I’m glad you’re here. It’s great to see you, but I could do without the trip down memory lane.” I stepped back, well out of reach. His fingers were twitching near his leg and I knew that he wanted to hold me again. His innate need to soothe and protect kept rising to the surface. “See you at breakfast.”
****
Jordon tried to push his foot through the gas pedal and down to the floorboard. The Land Rover redlined as he pushed it harder, bouncing over small hills. He hadn’t bothered to go down the road since they had more acres of land than they would ever use. Unless he hit a deer or tree, he wouldn’t hurt anyone out here.
Music blared from the speakers, drowning out the curses pouring from his mouth every few moments. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this furious. Images flashed in his brain of Bea wrapped in that fucker’s arms, a look unlike anything he’d ever seen on her face. He saw her with himself, under him, over him, making love to him. He could feel her skin under his hands as if he was holding her and not slamming his palms into the wheel.
Did they fuck? Was the bastard better in bed than him? What hold did Carter have over her that as soon as his blue eyes flashed, she forgot all about him? Jealousy was a sour taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his belly. Was he going to lose her? The thought filled him with dread.
The engine screamed as he pushed it harder, higher—driving through the brush like he was breaking through a line of fire. No stopping; advance until you win. He wasn’t about to let that bastard steal his woman. Bea was his. He loved her; she wasn’t going anywhere if he had anything to say about it. Snow began to fall heavily, adding to the already slippery conditions. He needed to turn back. Being pissed was one thing, but stupid he was not.
****
I paced our room and with each pass by the window, I watched for headlights. For Chris’s return. It was snowing; the fat flakes quickly piled together, adding inches to the already covered grounds. Our room was dark other than the flickering of the gas fireplace. We’d added them to the few rooms that didn’t have original wood-burning ones. This damn castle was cold as fuck.
There was a sof
t grey rug in front of the hearth; the spot was fast becoming my favorite. Lying with Chris, I loved watching the flames dance across our bare bodies. His eyes reflecting firelight was one of the most captivating and beautiful things I’d ever seen. I paused, catching a flash of light from the corner of my eye. Headlights were bouncing their way over the grounds, coming ever closer. Should I go down? Wait here? Indecision gripped me. We’d never had a fight, not like this. It was still so new. I was terrified that there was irrevocable damage.
I heard his footfalls in the hallway outside, recognizing the distinctive pattern of his steps. He paused in front of our door; I could see the shadow of his feet under the edge. The knob twisted slowly, like in a horror movie. I stood frozen, captivated and terrified at the same time. My emotions were rioting inside me, boiling to the surface. I was desperate for Chris to listen—to hear me and understand. The door swung open on silent hinges. My stomach was twisted into a knot, vicious guilt and fear making me break out in a sweat. I gripped my hands together, popping my knuckles, as I waited for him to speak. To condemn.
“Bea.” He stepped further into the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“Chris… I—I’m sorry. Let me explain.” I was on the defensive. It was a strange position, one I’d rarely experienced. This was the first serious relationship that I had ever been in. The few lovers I’d had since joining the military had never mattered; it was just sex with little to no feelings beyond friendship. I was lost, not knowing what to say or do.
Chris sat on the bed—our bed—and braced his arms on his knees. “I left to clear my head, to try and figure out what to say to you and how I felt about that fucker. I have some questions and I want honest answers. No bullshit, no avoidance. Just talk to me.”
“O-okay.” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans and waited.
“Did you fuck him?” His voice was low and unlike anything I’d ever heard from him before. Hurt.
“No! I had to… pretend to.” I took a deep breath into my belly and tentatively sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “It was my first mission with Steel. Phillips, Carter, and I were in deep cover with a neo-Nazi group. We were on their compound in North Dakota. Carter and I were ‘together’ and Phillips was my step-brother. We had to share a room and fake having sex.”
I paused in my story and his snort interrupted me. “Fake sex? How does that work?”
“Well, lots of moaning and screaming and shit. It sounded like we were fucking like animals when in reality we were mostly just bouncing on the bed. We had to kiss and fool around when we could be seen. It was all for the job. It wasn’t real.” I felt the hitch in my words. I wasn’t lying exactly, but there was more to it. Over the course of that mission Carter and I had bonded in a way that was impossible to explain. “We took them down and prevented the biggest terrorist attack on U.S. soil since 9/11.”
“You care for him.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. The same way I cared for Phillips and still care for Pierce, Flynn, or any of the guys. Carter is… different. He and I could never have been together. It never would have worked. We’d have destroyed each other. I won’t lie to you; I care about you too much to do that. There was definitely an attraction between us, but it never went beyond a couple of kisses.”
“I believe you. Why did he kiss you earlier?”
I laughed then and it felt good, even if it was inappropriate. “Because that’s his way. He would hate me telling you, but Carter participates in BDSM. He’s a Dom.”
Chris’s eyebrows shot up in comical surprise. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. It’s how he operates. He can’t help himself. He had to make sure that I was really okay and he knew about us and wanted to fuck with you. Doms have to ensure the happiness of women they care about. Even though we were never involved. If you’d reacted any other way, he’d be having words with you.”
“So, to show you that he cares about you, he kisses you in front of the man you love?” His eye roll rivaled mine.
“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but yes, essentially.”
He reached over and took my hands, bringing them up to his mouth. “Bea, I love you. And I trust you. I’ve never… never felt anything like this before; seeing you in his arms killed me a little.”
“I’m sorry. But it’s not like I knew he was going to do it.” Freeing my hands from his grip, I cupped his cheeks in my palms, his full beard tickling me. “Carter is special to me in a way that I can’t explain to myself, let alone to you. I’ve known him for a very long time, since before Steel was even a dream. He is the one who recommended me for interrogation training; he is the one who gave my file to Jackson. Without that bastard, we never would have met. But I don’t love him. I don’t want him in my bed or in my body. I love you. I want you.”
He crushed me to his chest, his mouth taking mine and devouring my sigh of relief. Pulling back enough to catch a breath, I spoke against his lips. “Is this the make-up sex portion of the evening? Because I could really use some.”
Chuckling against my mouth, he jerked off my shirt and pants in record time. The answer was unspoken, but evident in the pressure of his mouth, the glide of his hands, and the deep green of his eyes. The firelight made his golden skin glow bronze, the flickering light highlighting the fine hairs on his arms and back. His shaggy head worked its way down my body and I watched in fascination as the shadows dipped and twisted along his muscular back. Moments later my eyes closed, my back arched, and I saw no more.
chapter 4
Trying to stretch and move was a wasted effort. Mic was draped over Jordon’s chest like a quilt. She didn’t know she did it and he had no intention of telling her. Almost every night, as soon as she was deeply asleep, she practically laid on top of him. Granted, he wasn’t complaining since they’d agreed on the rule of no clothes in bed and it was a nice way to wake up every morning. But today he had an urgent need of the bathroom. Catching a whiff of his armpit, a shower was also in order. He carefully shifted her to the side and scooted out of bed, not wanting to wake her. The bedside clock glowed four forty-five. Reaching over, he shut off the alarm she’d set. It was Christmas Eve; if that wasn’t an excuse to sleep in, he didn’t know what was. Jordon shut the bathroom door, made use of the toilet, and turned on the shower. Ducking under the spray, he put his palms flat on the pale grey marble wall. The stone was cold in contrast to the hot water hitting his back. His thoughts invariably returned to last night, the memory of Bea in that bastard’s arms making him smack his hands against the wall. There was something there, a tangible thread connecting the two that he had no hope of cutting—even if he was willing to do that to her, which he wasn’t. Who was he to dictate to her? That wasn’t his way, never had been. He understood the bond between brothers from war and loss. He knew what she’d been through in Iraq as well as long before at the hands of her father. His jealousy and rage were making sense now. It wasn’t the kiss he was so fucking pissed about. This gut-wrenching envy stemmed from that twat-cracker knowing a piece of Bea that he never could. He would never understand the feeling of someone who was supposed to love you beating and degrading you. Carter got it; he understood her in ways that Jordon never could or would.
“Fuck!” Squirting gel on his hands, he washed quickly and stepped out of the shower. Dressing in a thermal lightweight long-sleeved shirt and warm running pants, he crept downstairs. Clutching his boots in his hands, he shivered from the frigid floor under his stocking feet. “No one told us this monstrosity was so fucking cold…,” he muttered under his breath as he sat on the edge of a chair in the great room putting on his boots.
“You know, talking to yourself is not a good sign for your mental health.”
Jordon dropped the boot he was slipping on and jumped to his feet in surprise. Carter stood in the hallway, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. “Maybe not, but neither is seeing a bastard like you kiss my woman,” he growled.
“Fair point, k
id. You’ve got me there. I’ve known Mic a long damn time though and that kiss didn’t mean anything.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Carter walked closer to him, like a cat stalking his prey. “If I could have had her in my life and my bed—I would have.”
Jordon didn’t give him a chance to say anymore. He charged the asshole, using his size as an advantage to knock Carter on his ass with a flying tackle. Carter’s breath escaped in a whoosh and coffee flew through the air. The shattering of the ceramic mug on the hardwood floor was as loud as a gunshot. With a twist and a lunge of his hips, Carter flipped Jordon over, smashing him hard onto the floor. Pain exploded through Jordon’s back, shards from the broken mug cutting into him. Their grunts and gasps of pain echoed in the great room as they traded punches. There was no finesse, just testosterone fueled rage. Jordon’s head twisted sideways, blood flying from his mouth as he took another fist to the jaw. Grunting in pain, he slammed his own fist into Carter’s ribs, taking perverse pleasure in the man’s pain.
“This is… stupid.” Carter blocked another one of Jordon’s hits with his forearm. Blood was leaking from both their noses, spattering on their shirts.
“I don’t care. I’m gonna kick your fucking ass.” Using the other man’s shoulders as a hand-hold, Jordon sat up, shoved Carter back, and followed him down. Instead of taking advantage, Jordon turned to the side and jumped to his feet. Standing at the ready, he swiped the blood off his face and held up his fists. “Come on, you bastard!”
Spitting blood from a cut on his lip, Carter shook his head and slowly stood, favoring his ribs. “No. I’m done. I’m not going to kill you, so this is over.”
“You bet your fucking ass you’re done!” Mic stood at the top of the steps, dressed only in shorts and a tank top; she was furious. “Just what the hell do you two fucking animals think you’re doing? Why don’t you just piss on each other and get it over with!” She stomped down the stairs toward them, fury in every heavily placed step.