Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Hitting the hall, I mention to Sali, their nurse, that both of them are resting. Making my way to the elevators I press the button, and I’m reminded of the sexy woman in heels that held me hostage here not too long ago.

  I lied to Wyatt when I said I had things to do. I never do. For months I’ve escaped China, Wyatt, and everything else, hiding out at the hotel in my air-conditioned room. Bloody staff turn it down all the time, which quickly upon entering, I crank it way down. Buying and running Powder Kings has given me a slight distraction while I’ve been here, but even that hasn’t been enough.

  With the carriage arriving, I hop inside and click the button. The sound itself is a reminder of Carli’s sass. Counting down the floors, I arrive on the main level where the sun beams in, announcing how far away I want to be from here. I’m saddened by the weather. Others think the sunshine is a balm to their souls, but it makes me itchy. My skin crawls. Under my clothing, there’s a relief of it hiding in the shade, and gradually making my way to the doors, my breathing tightens. God, I hate it here.

  And my parents thought that after all these years away I’d accept the responsibility of running a race team in the sun? What the fuck were they thinking? This is the least happy place on earth for me. And as the sun touches me, I feel threatened.

  Nope, not at all where I want to be.

  Someone make this fucking nightmare end.

  CARLI

  Wawawa, mahwa, wawah...

  The woman with the jungle print one piece jumpsuit holding the microphone, sounds like a Peanut’s teacher. My ears are fucking bleeding. Chris has tried to look entertained by her droning conversation about the Capuchin monkeys, but I personally can’t feign interest. My resting bitch face is not so resting. This whole damn display is for her conservatory because they need funding dollars from the state. Give me a fucking break. The woman spent a fucking fortune on her clothing and it’s awful. Spend it on the monkeys instead, lady.

  I know the designer. I saw it at the spring show, and her wardrobe consultant needs to be fucking fired for dressing her like that. For her skin and hair color, it looks like something the monkey shit out.

  Two more hours of this and you’ll find me curled up in a corner, peeling peanuts for the fucking monkeys. This is the downside of my job—stupid moments, and appearances that I have zero bloody interest in. I’m actually hoping the monkey shits in her rat’s nest of a hairdo.

  Looking down at my cell, trying not to be caught doing it, I flick through Plenty of Fish, Twitter feeds, Instagram and Facebook. Not mine, though. I’m looking for pictures of Chris with his varied indiscretions. Kurt, Kyle, or rubber ducky—whatever the fuck his name was—ran out pretty pissed this morning. That screams nasty posts. So far, nothing has shown up. Color me surprised.

  Stopping on a Twitter post, there’s a Crown notation.

  Doll under house arrest. #IdHandCuffHer

  Is Casper and Marca Crown alive? #CrumblingKingdom

  Why so long without seeing any of the family? #FurtherDeath

  Over and over, feed after feed, likes, retweets and reposts of concerns for the family stack up. Then one in particular catches my attention. It’s associated with the Crowns’, but not a name I know.

  Outcast Son tweeted, #NoSnow #ToFuckingHot

  Well, not hard to figure out who that is. Checking out his previous posts, there are boards, girls, trees covered with snow, and two short posts from a few days ago. I catch myself before I laugh out loud.

  #IAteVegan

  #BirdFood

  Our impromptu lunch was nothing exciting, but I enjoyed it more than I’ll admit. I think I might have even fallen in like with Jamieson. At the least, I don’t have such a scathing disregard for him. I might actually tolerate his presence if he happens to be around when I—if I—visit Circe again. Remembering how pissed she was that I ‘attacked’ China, I feel just a little bit interested in how she’s doing. I’d never wish anyone jail time or house arrest, but it must be awful when you’re unable to even visit your brother in the hospital without a chaperone. Hopefully, he’s at least sexy.

  Jamieson is.

  Fuck, I’m thinking about him again.

  Shit!

  I’ve even stopped flipping through posts about my boss and I’m solely flicking through Jamieson’s feed. Looking at each, the current feel of the posts are so different than the previous. The trees, snowcapped mountains, pictures of boards, girls lacking in clothing are gone. After Jax’s death, the feed changes to darker, stronger images of sadness, notations of heat, a crassness that seems heartfelt, and one that has me staring at it a few moments longer than I should.

  Sass and fire. Dark sarcasm. Give and take. I want more. #WhyADragonTattoo?

  Nudging my shoulder, Chris tries to gain my attention. “Anything I need to worry about from Mondo?”

  “Mondo?” I ask.

  “From last night?” I can’t believe he can even get a date.

  “It started with a K, Chris.”

  He rolls his eyes, giving me his ‘I’m bored’ look. I know what he’s expecting me to do. He wants me to break us out of here.

  “You’ll owe me,” I mutter.

  Under his breath, he asks, “What will it cost?”

  “You don’t wanna know.”

  Fuck. Why do I do this for him?

  Opening the timer in my phone, I select a minute, then start the countdown. Closing the phone, I turn on the ringer and pocket it. Acting fully interested in the woman’s diatribe, I swear it feels like I’m watching a tennis match.

  Waiting for the blessed thing to go off is like watching a kettle boil.

  Hurry up and ring, dammit.

  Shocking me out of the near coma I fell into, I jump slightly, looking fully apologetic as the timer chimes. Pulling it out, I try to act like there’s someone on the other line. I talk into the edge of my shoulder like I’m trying to be quiet. “No. No. That can’t be happening. No, we’re at a very important meeting…” Pausing for dramatics, I raise my voice slightly. “No? Okay, I’ll tell the governor. Thank you.”

  Putting my phone in my purse, Chris turns toward me, trying to look worried. I reach over and whisper in his ear. “Two shopping sprees on your black card and a full week’s vacation in Cabo.”

  Giving me a sideways glance, he tries to look shocked.

  Not working, buddy. Agree, or this won’t be the important call you were hoping for.

  “Well, I guess we’d better get there as soon as possible. That’s a very high cost, but we’ll make it work.” Rising from his chair, he turns to the imitation of a palm tree on stage. “I’m sorry, but we have to leave. If you could make an appointment with my assistant, Miss Katana, later in the week, she’ll get the remainder of the details from you.”

  That sneaky shit. Oh, no way is he cornering me into another meeting with this lady. Meet the Carli evil bus, Mister.

  Smiling sweetly, I chime in. “I’ve got you on this, Governor. I’m sure the disaster crisis team and I can work this out without you if you want to stay here and finish the presentation. I can go over the details of the town crisis costs when you’re freed up.”

  He narrows his eyes. I know he’s figured out that his escape costs just increased. “No, you’re right. I can work it out with the committee later. Mrs. Maa, I’m sure you have a written notation of the needs for your conservatory. Please forward it to my office and I’ll go over it, personally.”

  Nodding my head, I make my way out of the room. “We really should get going, sir,” I say, giving Chris his final exit opportunity.

  “Thank you. Yes, we really should go.” He squeezes out around the table past the other poor saps still stuck here and gives his apologies. I know what he’s apologizing for, that they’re still there and he’s running like hell for the door.

  As we exit, we hit the hall of the conference room. Chris lightly smacks me on the arm. “Two times on my card?”

  Blowing out
a breath, I laugh as we quickly walk away. “You got off easy, Mister. That last little bus run almost cost you two weeks in Cabo for a party barge full of my friends.”

  “You don’t have a barge full of friends. And Carli, you almost slung me into a new black card bracket last time.”

  “Please, I have friends. You don’t warrant introductions yet.”

  “Yet? And why would that be?”

  I shake my head. There are so many examples of why Chris is not a person you introduce to your friends and family. But I think on a mellow moment with him which is extremely rare. “The boa I found in my car.”

  Looking sideways, head quirked, and an expression that says, ‘I don’t remember that day,’ it takes him a moment to remember what Chris moment that represents. “Oh yeah! The blue boa I received from the Cher impersonator.”

  “And why was it in my car?” I ask, fully knowing the reason.

  He looks thoughtful for a moment, thinking up a lie. Stepping ahead of me and down the stairs, he says, “It’s not important.”

  “And why did I need my car steam cleaned, Chris?”

  “Not important, Miss Katana,” he chirps off quickly, making his way to the exit lightning quick, as if his favorite butt plug is on sale.

  “You never did tell me.” I continue with my inquisition as we step into the parking garage. “Why did you offer to steam clean my Jag?”

  “No comment. Pleading the fifth.” Popping the lock on his car, he jumps in.

  “Chicks and dicks. Fuck me.” Hopping into the passenger’s seat, I groan. “I need to sell that car now, don’t I?”

  Laughing, he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. Fine. I’ll get the answer out of him some day, but today isn’t that day.

  Shaking my head, I resign myself to the idea that I won’t get relief for that particular erroneous moment in my employment.

  My phone buzzes in my bag, breaking me from my thoughts. Pulling it out, I stare at the screen, my heart falling to my stomach.

  Miori’s text is three words I’ve dreaded seeing. “Kaori. Kare wa shinimashita.”

  Our father is dead.

  CARLI

  Two flights. Three thousand miles. Five liters of espresso at least, and I’m hiding in the only place I feel safe. I’m back in California.

  I need my friend, even though I know it’s not smart. She’s never known the truth, but she’s the only person I have to talk to about this.

  Walking into the UCLA hospital, the weight of what’s happened feels colossal. My body is jacked and my mind is wired. Avoiding Miori, Kano, and anyone else who texted me, I had Chris drop me at the apartment. When he asked what was going on, I answered as vaguely as I could. The more people that know the truth, the more their lives are at risk.

  My family is dangerous, but I need Circe. Yeah, she’s mad at me, and I’m still a little pissed myself, but the best part of our friendship is that we don’t stay mad at each other for long.

  Flying through the lobby to the elevators, I press that button for all it’s worth. If I press it anymore, the fucking thing will be an innie, not an outie. Hearing the ding, I watch as the doors peel apart. I’m so close to exploding with the knowledge of what I’ll unload on my friend that I don’t wait for the slow inhabitants inside to exit.

  It’s like a clown car emptying out. As the last few saunter out, I can’t help but wonder how many fucking people can actually fit in there? Starting toward the side, squeezing past a stout little man in a bright plaid shirt, my arm is gripped gently.

  “Whoa. What’s the rush, Katana?”

  Jamieson.

  I blow out a long breath. “I don’t have time to banter in an elevator,” I say, stepping inside.

  Pushing up beside me, his size causes the stragglers to exit quickly. “Why are you back already?” Sounding concerned, he reaches over my shoulder and smacks the button for the floor. “Did you miss me?” I think he’s kidding, as his grin creeps dangerously toward his ears.

  “You’re hardly the center of my world, Crown.” Stepping closer to him, I look him in the eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, not everything revolves around you.”

  “And here I thought I was wearing you down, Katana.” His smile is almost charming—almost.

  “It takes more than a wink and a nudge to get a response from me.” Pushing against his chest, I attempt to move him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Jamieson,” I say in a warning tone.

  “Carli,” he grinds out, smirking.

  “Back up, please.”

  He rests his arms on the wall behind me, his broad chest surrounding me as he hits the emergency button. The sound of it squealing is awful, but his closeness is hard to ignore. My womanly bits have ideas of their own, screaming ‘yes, yes, yes,’ which is decidedly different than my head answering, ‘fuck this, remember what you’re here for.’

  Against my better judgement, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I touch the thick scruff on his jaw. Jamieson’s eyes close as if relishing the feel from a dream. For a brief moment in time, I forget that I’m mixed up in family drama. I forget that I’ve placed Crown on the NTC—not that cock list—and that I’m here to tell my one and only friend what’s going on. She needs to know why I have to go home and leave for good.

  I’m breathy, and my mind is clouded. “Jamieson, we can’t do this.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “And why is that, Carli?”

  “Five reasons.”

  Kissing me again, he grasps my ponytail and winds it around his hand. My body is loving the feeling. Betraying my mind’s decision that he’s trouble, I’m enjoying the feeling of him being in control.

  “Count them down. And each one better be good, Carli.”

  “Fine. One, you’re a whore. The harder it is to get the more you want it. I’m not making it easy, so you’re only pushing until you get me. Then it’s bye-bye, thanks for the orgasm and the grinding screams.”

  Pulling tightly on my hair, he tilts my head back. “I’m more than a one orgasm kind of guy. Bad reason one.”

  Jeesh! Hold it together, Carli.

  “Two. Your brother is dating my best friend, the closest I have to a sister here, so it’s technically incest in my book when you boink a sister’s fiance's brother.”

  Slipping his leg between my thighs, he parts my knees, brushing against my center as he kisses the lobe of my ear. “Horrible. That wasn’t even an excuse worth mentioning.”

  Shit, I’m losing this battle. Melting into his touch, I clear my throat. “Three, four and five, you’re not my type. I like a guy…” I pause, feeling his cock rub my hip, “with a big cock, a strong opinion, and that has a heavy tendency to let me win.”

  Pulling the sleeve of my shirt low, he kisses the tattoo that runs across my shoulder, then he chuckles. “Carli Katana, you’re too much.”

  And that there sealed the deal. I quickly gather my composure. “Jamieson,” I say, pushing him back. Moving easily away, I pull the edge of my shirt back into place as he relents and steps away, giving me space. With a serious tone, I say, “I can’t give you the real me. It’s not fair to you that you don’t know the difference between the woman you see and the woman I am.”

  Confusion rages in his features. Trust me, buddy, I can’t clear up the situation without putting you in danger. Pressing the button on the console, I release the emergency signal. “We all have family obligations we don’t want to hold to. You, your brother, and your sister, you’re all dealing with taking the reins of Crown Industries in a shocking way.” I shrug. “I have to resign myself to my fate now, too.”

  He still looks confused, and shocked, and before I give him the chance to speak, I place a finger to his soft lips to halt him. “Trust me. You don’t want to know this family. It could get you killed knowing too much about me.”

  Faster than I expected, the door dings open. Passing through without looking back, I move as fast as I can away from the poisonous danger to my libido.

 
; Jamieson fucking Crown will be the death of me.

  CARLI

  Knowing we’re both going to the same room doesn’t bode well for the dramatics I just unleashed. Stomping as fast as I can past the security guards that still protect the family, acknowledging the nurses station and knocking on the door, I wait for a response.

  Hearing him stop abruptly behind me, I don’t turn toward him. “Jamieson, let’s not and say we did.”

  “Carli,” he says softly, standing close.

  “Please,” I beg. “I need to see Circe for a bit. Alone. Can you stay with your brother while we go for a walk?”

  “Of course, but why are you pushing me off? Maybe I could help?”

  I wish he could. Nothing I’m up against is going to go well. If I submit to it, losing the life I’ve built, I’ll save my sisters, but I’ll lose me. Not much of a choice, really.

  “Thanks, but I’m a one-man band. My cymbals can’t be rung by anyone other than me.” Hearing someone say to come in, I stalk inside without a further thought to the man behind me.

  The room that Circe and Wyatt now share is a lot different than her last. Not located far from where she was, but it’s considerably larger. Their two beds are pulled together, locked in place. The machines that kept Wyatt alive are gone, but I don’t think he’s anywhere close to leaving the hospital yet. His cheeks are still sallow, his frame is weak looking, and a motorcycle ride is nowhere in his near future. Looking at the two of them in their matching arm casts makes them a set.

  Walking in, Wyatt is snacking on Jell-O. Yep, not a food group, buddy. He smiles around a mouthful of the goo. “Carli, nice to see you again.”

  “You, too. How’s my girl?” I ask, knowing Circe won’t answer with her mouth full of the same concoction.

  “She’s eating my supply, but she promised me something in return.”

  With a nudge to his chest, Circe smiles, sets down her now empty bowl on the table and laughs. “Stop whining. You smile, and Sali brings you extra. Even you can’t eat it all, Wyatt.”