Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

“Harvey,” I call out.

  Scampering out of the closet, proud as a peacock that he was able to hide out as long as he did, he dances around for attention. “You big bastard. Been sleeping in my dirty hamper again, have we?” I ruffle the curly mop of hair on his head. What I wouldn’t give to shave that bastard. Mind you, my father would have my hide, but it would be worth it just once to see what he’d look like. My dad’s retired now and that dog is his pride and joy.

  “Out you go, you mindless idiot.” Harvey saunters over to the bed, hops up, spins in circles, then flops down, tossing more bedding to the floor.

  The breeder told my parents that poodles are smart animals; very obedient, and easy to train. Not Harvey. He’s the dumbest smart guy in the room. He can’t fetch, doesn’t sit, can’t deal with basic commands, and even though he’s had more training than a Navy Seal, he still pees on the mat at the front door. Finally ignoring him, I keep on about my task of pulling out all the things I’ll need for a month.

  Sleeping here last night—if that’s what it can be called—I twisted in the sheets, flipping and sweating as I thought about the upcoming event. Not to mention, I’ve been hooked to China’s wagon for the foreseeable future. It had me a bit on edge. I woke before the sun was even up, hitting the heavy bag, the weights, and a run for over three hours just so I could clear the cloud of her scent from my brain. Even now, the whole ordeal makes me tent my sweatpants.

  “Catheters, enemas, vasectomy, ball crushing vise, dirty hookers,” I say, trying to calm my heated erection.

  It’s not really working.

  Walking around the room, gathering things, it slowly recedes, and I feel blessed I know how to control my urges. If I couldn’t, it would be a horrendous month and a half in solitude.

  Taking in the stank of my gym-drenched self, and knowing that it’ll gain me no brownie points if I show up smelling and looking like a homeless person, I decide another shower is in order.

  RISEN

  Arriving just after three at the Crown house, I pull up at the gates. Hitting the button, I announce myself. As the front gates open, I make my way to the front. Showing up with my project car would be a bit tacky, so instead, I opted to bring my nicer car. I highly doubt she would go out in public in my project, as it would be beneath her to be seen in a wrecker.

  Pulling up to the garage, I leave my car in front of the third door. I doubt any of the Crown’s park outside. Hopefully, I’m not blocking anyone, and on the off chance that I am, I’m sure someone will let me know.

  Grabbing my bags out of the trunk, I lock up and walk my ass toward the front door. Standing just outside, waiting, is an elderly man of South American descent with thinning hair, bright eyes, and a friendly smile. He reminds me of Carter, the gardener at my parents’.

  “Hello, sir.” Holding out his hand to take my bags, I give him the smallest one before shaking his outstretched one. “I’m Ciccero. I’m the housekeeper and grounds master. I will be taking you to your apartments. If you require anything at all while you’re here, just let us know. I hope that we can make your stay here enjoyable.”

  “I’m Risen. Nice to meet you, Ciccero. I’ll keep this bag. It’s awfully heavy.”

  Nodding, Ciccero grins, leading me inside.

  Just inside the doors, I look around. The grand front is spacious, inviting, and airy. There are windows banking in almost every direction. Even the top of the staircase where light shines in from above. It’s beautiful. I must have been standing with my jaw gaping open because Ciccero laughs. Pointing up the stairs, he leads me further into the house. Passing closed door after closed door, we finally stop. Ciccero opens the door and motions for me to enter first. He follows, setting my bag down on the bed.

  “The kitchen is in the left wing, as well as the entrance to the gym facilities, the saunas, and the garage. You’re welcome to venture anywhere. Cassidy, the cook and caretaker for Miss Crown, is also here for anything you may need. If you require any specific dietary needs, please feel free to leave me a list and I will have her pick them up promptly.” Walking away to leave, Ciccero turns back toward me with apprehension. “I must thank you for everything you’ve done thus far for Miss Crown. I know she can be a bit daunting, trying, and overall stubborn soul, but she is a lovely woman. Have patience.” With that, Ciccero leaves me to explore and wander the chambers alone.

  I’d be joking if I thought it was any different than where I live. It’s an expansive space with its California King in the center, two side tables, an oversized flat screen that’s visible from anywhere, and a walk out patio that leads to the back of the house. It’s carefree in design and décor, which is a total contrast to home. Opening the patio doors, I’m surprised. It takes quite a bit to surprise me with opulence, but there’s an Olympic size pool with two smaller pools. I assume one’s the Jacuzzi, and the other a cooling pool. There’s a raised deck that overlooks the sea, which I’m sure boasts an amazing view during sunsets, and an oversized gazebo housing outdoor couches and chairs. All of it looks very relaxing. Well, except for that. Rounding out the back of the property is something only the Crown’s would have; a full speed track, complete with a time board. What a lovely place to play, I’m sure.

  So the real question is, why would China go off street racing? Why? What would entreat her to leave this, taking her chances on the uneven blacktops of Crenshaw Blvd. when she has all this?

  It’s just another anomaly in the giant jigsaw of China Crown.

  Closing the doors and checking out the rest of the apartment, I see nothing else of note. Of course, the bathroom has a massive shower that could hold three people comfortably, a tub that would house a family of six kids in one shot, and a walk-in closet that’s larger than the first house I grew up in.

  I decide to venture through the rest of the house. It’s like getting to the hotel and wondering where the best restaurants are. Shutting the door behind me, I take off toward where Ciccero mentioned the kitchen is.

  The halls are quiet. Museum quiet, and I would know. I’ve grown through my formative years in the same sterile environment. I may have my parents and an ugly dog to keep me company at all times, whether I like it or not, but with her brother in the hospital, her father dying a few months ago, and her mother dead from the car accident that placed Wyatt in the hospital in the first place, I understand her rebellion.

  Her police file stated that she’d never had infractions up until her father’s death, that this was out of character. With the track out back, I can see why she’d never before needed a life-altering, legally opposed outlet. After death and destruction, it’s easy to see a need to rebel. Judge Prada was a slicker man than I thought when he appointed me guardian of China during this interim.

  What I wonder, though, is who’s actually being incarcerated? Who will win this war of wills? Can I handle this? Can I survive being around China Crown, day in and day out? My libido will definitely be put to the cold shower test for sure. I’ll just have to be professional, keeping her at arm’s length.

  Good luck with that, Risen.

  Good fucking luck.

  CHINA

  “Doll.”

  Knowing the growly voice, I don’t even turn in greeting. “Hey, Tre.”

  “Why didn’t you call me to join you at the arraignment?” Placing a hand on my shoulder and plops down on the step beside me. Trellis tucks in close, slinging his arm over my shoulders.

  “The girls were with me, and I didn’t think—”

  “Why didn’t you call me, though? I would’ve helped you out of this.”

  “I don’t want out of it this time, Tre. It’s about time I dealt with my shit myself. No Crown bullshit. No backroom deals, and no one covering my ass. I had to do this alone.”

  Trellis resigns to my stubborn streak. Leaning into his strong chest, I tuck in.

  “So, why aren’t you on the bike on a day like today? Get geared up and go, D.”

  Holding my coffee aloft, sipping at the sweetness, I
relax. “Not now. It feels funny hitting the track. It’s like—”

  “Like the ghosts are running it? Yeah, I get it, Doll.” His voice is soft, sad, and understanding. Trellis is as versed in death as I am.

  “Nice jewelry. What’s the deal?”

  Shaking my leg, I rattle the monitor and muster up a grin. “Under the circumstances, I guess it’s not that bad. It could’ve been worse.”

  “And I hear you’re under surveillance too? Who’s the guy that’s stuck with you?” Trellis is trying to get me to smile.

  “I’m stuck with him, but I think he’s really stuck with me. The girls fell in love with my arresting officer and new jailor.”

  “Risen Mason is the guy that’s watching you?” He grinds his teeth so hard, I’d swear he chipped a few. Standing up, he wipes down his shorts. “No. Ain’t happening, China. You’re not staying in this house with him alone. No way, Doll.”

  Standing up, I face Tre. I can see his anger seeping to the surface. “What’s so wrong? He’s a police officer, Tre.”

  “Doll, there’s no way you’re staying here alone...with him.”

  “Tell me why, Trellis, and maybe I’ll listen to you.”

  Growling, he turns toward the house with deadly intent. “Doll, he’s not the guy you think he is.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me why you’re so against a cop staying here?”

  Spinning back around, he stomps toward me. I’m kind of freaked out. Trellis is a hulking large man, as big as a bodybuilder, but naturally that size. He’s daunting, even to me. “China, I know Risen. He’s not the good guy. We have a history, and that’s all I’ll say on it.” Running a hand down the side of my face, he rests it along my jawbone. I lay into it. I’ve always had a crush on Tre, but being my brother’s friend, he’s been off-limits.

  Tre’s phone pings, breaking the silence. Looking down at his phone, his fighting attitude escapes. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “I need to go. Tarrant needs me tonight for some shit out at the club. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

  I force a grin. I’m pleased with his care, but worried about why he’s so upset about Officer Mason. “I’m flattered you’re worried, Trellis, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Just be careful, Doll.” Nodding, I agree, and watch as he leaves.

  With the sun sitting high, the porch was starting to be a bit much. I return to the house and sit with Cassidy in the kitchen for a bit to talk about what’s going to go on. Cassidy is crazy excited about meeting Risen after everything the girls had told her. Their recollections of his manliness made quite an impression on each of them in very different ways.

  Cathryne said he reminded her of Opie from the Sons of Anarchy. She’d said he was soft, silent, a great defender, crass, sarcastic type that changed the word swoon into an adjective.

  Hallette felt he was more like Dwayne Johnson from the Rundown. Again, the soft, silent, broody defender, but for some reason, she was convinced he was a serial killer that hid behind a police persona.

  Creepy.

  Harlow wanted to know if he had a brother. She kept comparing him to her favorite men by personality in real life, not by acting roles. It came down to a few, but only with the caveat that their wives would agree. She’d taken a sneaky pic of him on her cell and forwarded it to the respective women for their approval. Then, for some odd reason, she tossed in Conor McGregor, the MMA fighter, for good measure, she said. I think there’s more to it than she’s letting on. Hallette and Cathryne both gave sidelong glances to Harlot as she giggled into her tea.

  If I’m being totally honest with myself, I’ve thought about him off and on when I was so rudely arrested. He is sexy, but he doesn’t look like anyone to me in particular. His mussed brown hair that comes to his shoulders neither detracts nor hides anything. His strong square jaw and garnet eyes finish off the whole package. I think he’ll be a danger to me.

  I’ve seen him up close and personal a few times, and I’ve noticed a few blemishes that accent his beauty further. There’s a tiny freckle like mole right by his mouth, and a scar, that is obviously old, right by his chin. And the hole in his ear that’s lazily closing up, apparently housed a spacer at some point in time. Officer Risen Mason isn’t someone that I thought would be the rebel, but I’m hoping to be pleasantly surprised. He just might be under all that seriousness and professionalism, a person I can enjoy this incarceration with. I just hope that whatever it is that has Trellis worried for me isn’t going to cause me further arrests.

  On the day he cuffed me, I’d heard him muttering to himself. He was pissed about doing his job. He seemed torn. If I were a betting woman, I’d say he was made to do it by someone else in charge, that it wasn’t by his own volition. I find myself wanting to know more about his character and his motivations.

  After what Tre said, I can’t deny I want him. I do. I shouldn’t want to know more about him, though. Other than thanking him, and making it through the incarceration with the least amount of trouble or distractions from the sexy man, I should avoid him. Yep. I should. I can make it through a month and a bit unscathed with a sexy as hell officer that has a job to do. If I keep him in his hall and me in mine, we should do just fine. Or, at least, I can keep telling myself that.

  Yeah, go for it, China.

  “Fuck. How am I going to make it through this and avoid him?”

  CHINA

  I thank all things holy that the girls weren’t here to watch the prettier than pretty Ryan-Reynolds knockoff arrive. To say I was surprised is the understatement of the century. Pulling up, I heard the distinct rattling sound of a beautiful car. Looking out the window of my room, I’d expected to see of him driving a worn out, rusty, worm eaten, panelled lumber wagon. Instead, he drove through the gates and pulled up in front of the garage in a brand new, sparkling clean, Porsche Cayenne Turbo S in purpurit metallic. I knew this because I know cars as well as I know bikes. Well, that, and I’d actually built and priced one before I bought my Tesla.

  Watching him, I waited for his exit. I was almost thinking that everything I’ve noticed about him was imagined, faked by my desperately convoluted mind. But nope! Definitely not. Everything about him was fantastic and droolworthy.

  Grabbing his bag out of the back, my jaw hits the floor as he slings it across his expansive shoulders and walks toward the house with a saunter to rival Vin Diesel. Oh, bloody Mary, that walk is scrumptious. It’s solid and controlled, with purpose and conviction. He’s a man that knows how he looks, how he feels about himself, and he has confidence in his own persona.

  Now that I’ve seen him out of uniform twice, he’s absolutely nothing like I’d expected. My mind thought of a guy with no class, no style, and no money. I figured that he’d be chomping at the bit for an opportunity to live the life of luxury with me, that he would be a guy who’d need constant surveillance. My stereotypical thoughts were that Risen would be a guy wouldn’t sell or post pictures of me. I’ve been sadly mistaken, and genuinely surprised by my expectant, obnoxiously cliché mind.

  Why is he a cop when he obviously has money? Is he a dirty cop on the take? How is it that Trellis knows him? Did they run in the same circles? Was it school or a girl? How the hell is he driving an almost two hundred-thousand-dollar car?

  Does it matter? Not really. Looking down at my ankle, I’m reminded of why he’s here, and why I need to avoid everything he stands for. And like a mantra, I repeat, stay to my side of the building, stay to my side of the building, as if it will help me. I know I can do this. I know I can handle the temptation of a pretty, wrapped up toy, but only if I avoided him like the plague. Then maybe, I’ll pass through this unscathed.

  Turning from him as he progresses past my view, I walk away from the window where I was watching like a stalker. As my phone rings, I check it and laugh.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Didn’t want to give me the good news?” Good news? Who said this was good? Sure, Wyatt, it’s good news. I’m on lockdown in
my own home with a police officer that one of your good friends doesn’t want to share why he hates him.

  “Oh. Hmm, how do I start? This isn’t good news.”

  “Doll, you have more luck than anyone I know.” He laughs joyously into the phone. He’s enjoying this way too much. “You were given house arrest in the best place on the planet for someone like you, or me. You have a track in your backyard. You can train, you can work out in the pool, run, or rest your mind, Doll.”

  “You’re a bit too cheery about this, don’t ya think?”

  “What other course of action would you rather have, Doll? This is great. There’s no orange jumpsuit, and no girlfriends that want to show you what a wooden whittled dildo is like.”

  “Yep, that’s it. Put Circe on the phone. They need to back off your meds.” Rolling my eyes, I walk into the hallway and giggle. Starting off toward the back of the house, to one of my favorite hangouts, I walk out into the California sun. The feel of the Pacific moisture on my skin is a relief, and I hate to admit it, but I agree with Wyatt. I could have been in an orange jumpsuit, only feeling the sun on my skin once a week for an hour. So, yeah, it’s good.

  “Will you at least listen to your big brother? Look at this as a way to learn.”

  “Learn what? Better manners? How not to get caught? Or is it how not to find and keep trouble coming your way after family members die?” The line is silent for a second as I walk down the trail, away from the house. I’ve just shocked Wyatt into becoming the first Crown mute. Not normal, I tell ya.

  When he does speak again, it’s muted, saddened, and crushed. “China, don’t be like—”

  I cut him off, because I don’t want to get into it today. “I gotta go. Tell Circe to make sure the male nurses give you a sponge bath.”

  “Be good at least, please?” Wyatt says quietly.

  “Love you, Cas,” I say sweetly, trying to end the awkward conversation.

  “Love you too, Doll.” As he hangs up, I place the phone in my pocket, leaving the despair I was about to wallow in back at the house. Venturing down the trail, soaking up the rays and the blistering heat, I’m reflective on the past. Living in Cali, you get used to the drier seasons where the rains are nonexistent, and the wildfires are so common that people buy fire suppressants more often than sprinklers. The scrub is an adornment in your yard, even the cacti hardly flower, and if you’re lucky, like us, you have astrograss that doesn’t need watering, looking fantastic all year round. Passing the edges of it, walking into the scrubby parts of the property, I start down the trail toward the sea level and our private beach.