Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I wake up and immediately wish I were asleep again. My head
feels like it's in a vice, and my mouth tastes like vomit. Did I manage to make
it to the toilet? I can't even remember.

The only image in my mind from last night is of Nikki and I
dancing on top of a table at some club by the waterfront. I think a few of
Jack's teammates were there, but he wasn't. Where has my brother been recently?
It's like he doesn't know how to party anymore.

I push my hair out of my face and try to focus on the clock
on my bedside table. After a couple blinks, the time finally comes into view.
12:33PM. Not that late. I've certainly slept later after a night out. Just a
little after noon...
noon
. Why is that time sticking out to me? Someone
reminded me about something at noon... I order my brain to retrieve the
information, but it's moving sluggishly. Something about Carter. At noon.

Oh, shit.
His final physical therapy appointment, the
culmination of all his work, and I'm not there. It was at noon today.

I leap out of bed and the floor rolls beneath me. I lean on
the bedpost for a moment to steady myself and then hurry over to my bureau and
yank on a shirt and jeans and stuff my feet into a pair of boots. I grab my
clutch from last night and check my phone on the way down the stairs. Two
missed calls from Carter and a text from 11:45:
I'm leaving.
He was
guarding me last night until who knows what hour, so I'm sure he knows that I
have no excuse for missing the appointment except that I was hungover and
sleeping it off.

I run across the lawn and then through the kitchen door and
down the hallway toward the security center. The only thing that would make
Carter angrier than me missing his appointment is if I left the house without a
security detail. I knock on the door and after a moment it opens.

"Roger! Can you drive me somewhere?"

"Where's Carter?"

"He's at physical therapy, and I'm supposed to be
there, but I'm not. Can you drive me?" Roger pauses, then nods, and
follows me to the garage. I hop in the back of the Escalade and tell him to
head to the hospital. He drops me off at the front, and I fly inside. Carter
would be right next to me, but Roger seems a bit less vigilant, content to
follow me from a distance as he slowly exits the car.

I rush down the hall to the physical therapy suite,
belatedly realizing how terrible I must look right now. With a wave to the
receptionist, who knows me but looks a little taken aback, I hurry down the
hall to the workout area. I look at my watch. One o'clock exactly. They should
just be finishing up. I take a deep breath and run my thumbs under my eyes.
When I look down, they're smudged with my mascara, now fallen underneath my
lashes.

I poke my head nervously around the corner, and I'm shocked
by what I see. Carter and Petra are sitting on a workout bench together,
laughing. I shrink back, watching them. He's sweaty from the session, but he
looks so relaxed. And from the way she's looking at him, it's clear how she
feels. She takes a card from her pocket, and a pen, and she writes something on
the back of it. I'd bet a million dollars it's her private number. He takes it
and gives her a hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

I step back, and start in the other direction almost as quickly
as I came. Halfway down the hallway, I run into Roger.

"Never mind," I tell him. "They didn't need
me."

Back in the car, I examine myself in the reflection of the
tinted windows. God, I look like shit. All the late nights and drinking are
beginning to show on my skin. Petra would be better for Carter anyway. She's
sweet, chipper, and not a complete fuck-up, like me. Carter needs someone who
will be there for him, and clearly I don't fit the bill.

When we get back to the house, I thank Roger, and head for
the first bathroom in the hallway. I scrub my face clean and then head into the
kitchen for a tall glass of water. I take it into the den and slip under the
throw blanket and turn on the TV.

Some sports channel. I bet Bree's been watching it again.
She always says she doesn't like sports, but I've seen her in here more than
once, watching the game coverage. I'm about to flip the channel when I see a
familiar face pop up: hers. What the fuck is Bree doing on FOX Sports?

I turn up the volume and lean forward. "Up next, a look
into the life of Sonny Bosko, disgraced player for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
We've caught up with him, and his family, and you'll be shocked at what our
reporting has uncovered."

Oh, boy. That can't be good. I take my cellphone out of my
clutch and find Bree's number. "Hey, where are you?" I ask as she
picks up.

"In my room, why?" she answers.

"Could you come down to the den? I need to show you
something."

"OK, weirdo," she replies jovially before hanging
up. I wait nervously for her to arrive, wracking my brain for what Carter told
me about his father. Bree bounces in from the hall, and I pat the seat next to
me.

"So, I'm not really sure how to put this, but I think
there is some kind of TV report coming out about you and your father."

Bree goes pale. "What? What do you mean? How do you
know?"

"Well, they just showed a preview of it. I thought
Carter said that he didn't know where your father was, but the anchor said just
now that they found him."

"Oh my god...where is he? Do I want to know? Shit, I
knew I never should have gone to that game. Will you get Jack?"

"Um, sure...I don't know where—"

"He's working out around the side of the house,"
she says, staring at the commercials streaming across the TV screen. I nod, and
hurry back down the hallway and then out and across the patio.

"Catch!" Jack yells as I approach, and tosses me a
perfect spiral. I catch it and then drop the ball next to me.

"Bree asked me to come get you," I tell him.

"Why?" he frowns.

"I saw something on TV...some kind of exposè on her
father is about to air."

"Oh, fuck," he swears, and charges around me back
to the house.

I follow him slowly, curious about what's in this report,
but more curious about what's happening right in front of me. Why did Bree want
to see Jack, rather than, say, her mom or older brother? I guess Jack might
know more about the sports world, and have some good advice? But then Bree is
always watching sports news, so she's definitely not clueless, even though she's
pretending to be. It's like she's hiding something.

I freeze in the middle of the hallway. No. Freaking. Way.
Bree...and Jack? My playboy older brother and this petite, no-nonsense girl?
Maybe that's why he hasn't been partying so much... he has a girlfriend. And
it's Bree.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I mean, they painted it like I'm the bad guy!"
Anne says as she paces back and forth in the living room, the rest of the
family gathered around her. "All that stuff about ignoring his pleas to
take him back... he's never once reached out to me! No, that's a lie. Seven
years ago he had the nerve to ask me for money, but that's it!"

I feel terrible for her, but I have to admit I'm barely
paying attention. I can't stop staring at my brother and Bree. Have they really
been sneaking around this whole time? And when Bree told Carter and me in front
of Jack that her relationship with "Miles" was serious, was she
talking about Jack? Does this Miles person even exist?

What?
Jack mouths at me, as he catches me staring at him.
I shake my head and focus back on Anne.

"I just don't get it. I really don't. He left me. Now
they show a picture of me at a charity event, a picture of our neighborhood,
and suddenly I'm a gold digger who turned my back on him? What about the fact
that he nearly cleaned out our joint bank account? Or how hard I had to work to
build up a business from nothing! Some reporting! I had no idea he was even in
the country! I thought he was in Mexico or something!"

"He's been in Reno for about three and a half
months," my father says from an armchair.

"What?" Anne says, her head snapping over to him.
"Why...how...how did you know that?"

"I've had one of my investigators keep tabs on
him."

Anne goes still for a moment as she stares at him, her brain
working to process this information. I'm not at all surprised to learn my
father looked into her ex, but maybe this is the first time she's seen his
controlling ways for herself, or at least focused on her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she finally asks
quietly.

"I didn't think you needed to be aware of it. The
investigator has been fired, obviously. He wasn't doing his job, or I would
have been given a heads-up on this situation."

"I think I need a minute by myself," Anne murmurs,
and hurries out the door.

"Anne," my father sighs, and follows her. Bree
slips out into the hallway, too, and Jack pauses for a moment before he goes. I
stare after them, lost in thought.

"Alexa," Carter says, and I startle.

"Shit, I forgot you were here," I swear as he
emerges from leaning on the wall in the corner. "Sorry I missed your
appointment," I add, feeling a blush come to my cheeks.

"Going back to the boat house?" he asks, not
addressing my apology.

"No, actually. I need to go talk to my brother.
Privately." I stand up and head for the hallway. He follows. "You
alright?"

"I already knew what kind of man my father is. Nothing
he does surprised me anymore," he replies flatly.

I nod, and head for the hallway. Carter sits at the bottom
of the stairs as I head up, knowing I have to pass him if I intend on going
anywhere else, but giving me the privacy I desire. As I walk upstairs, I begin
to second-guess myself. What if I'm wrong about Bree and Jack? Maybe I misread
the signals. But something in my gut tells me I'm right.

Fuck, I'm out of shape and these are a lot of stairs, I
think as I reach the third floor. I take a deep breath as I knock on Jack's
door. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to say. I hear footsteps from within
and then the door opens. He looks surprised to see me.

"Expecting someone else?" I ask as his look of
compassion changes to a frown.

"No," he says with a shrug.

"Can I come in?" I ask, as he leans on the
doorjamb.

"Of course," he says. I close the door behind me
as I follow him in. I immediately begin looking around for evidence of a
relationship, but it looks spic-and-span in here.

"You alright?" I ask, studying his face closely.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Because you seem—"

"Lex. What the fuck?"

I guffaw, appreciating my brother's directness.
"Well...shit. Maybe it's none of my business anyway. And you know that I
can keep a secret. If that's what it is, I mean. I wouldn't tell—" I take
a breath. "Are you having a...
relationship
with Bree?" He
freezes, like the gears that run his brain just stopped working for a moment.
"I'm not judging you, and I won't say anything, I just—"

"Fuck," he groans.
Holy shit, I was right.

"OK," is all I can say. "OK."

"You have to understand, we're not just,
you know
..."
he says, waving his hand. "We really care about each other. Maybe that's
worse, though."

"How...how did it start?" He grins slyly, and I
backtrack. "Oh, god, don't tell me. Alright, so Miles is made up,
right?"

"No, he's real. They dated for a bit a while ago."

"Wow. How have you managed to keep it hidden for this
long? Especially with all the security..."

"That's been the toughest. Check this out,
though," he says, delighted. "I rented an apartment in the same
building as Miles under my agent's name, so when security drops Bree off at the
building, she just goes to my apartment instead. And I hired my own security
guard, so he's not going to say anything."

"What if she runs into Miles in the elevator?"

"She did once," he chuckles. "She said it was
awkward and she's pretty sure he thinks she's stalking him now."

"Shit, Jack," I laugh. "I guess, um,
congratulations? I mean, I think she's great. What are you going to do
long-term though?"

"I don't know," he sighs. "I'm tired of not
being able to be seen in public. But now with this stuff about her father, I
don't want to add any fuel to the fire with reports about his daughter sleeping
with her stepbrother. Could you imagine a reporter getting their hands on
that?"

"So maybe—"

"No, don't even suggest that. I really think she's it,
Lex. She challenges me, you know? I'm always wanting to be better for her.
Which is weird, in a way, because she also makes me feel so good about just
being who I am."

"You think it's good, feeling challenged?" I ask
quietly. "I'm not questioning you guys, I'm asking for me," I hasten
to add.

"I like it," he says with a smile. "She knows
what I'm capable of, and I know what she's capable of. And when one of us
forgets, we remind each other. How long have you been seeing this William?

"About a month now."

"Well, that's great."

"Oh, no, I wasn't asking about him." Jack raises
his eyebrows. "It's complicated." Though maybe if there's anyone who
would understand, it would be him. Not that it matters anyway. I feel my heart
constrict as I remember how Carter looked sitting there with Petra. So easy, so
relaxed.

"So you won't say anything?" I punch his arm, and
then wince as my fist hits solid muscle.

"Of course not, silly. Is Bree going to be alright?
With her dad and everything?"

"I think so. She took it a lot harder when he was disgraced
than Carter did. Apparently he saw through their father, but she always
idolized him, right up until the scandal and his leaving. Plus she thinks she's
the reason the reporter started to dig up dirt on them."

"Why?"

Jack spreads his arms with a grin. "I'm a very
desirable man, Lex."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, god. I hope Bree keeps you in
line."

"She does. What about you?

"What about me?"

"You look sort of...shitty."

"Gee, thanks, big brother. I just had a late night,
that's all."

"Seems like you've been having a lot of those
lately."

"Didn't your coaches make you move home because you
were partying so much?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Defensiveness. Always a good sign," he says with
a joking tone, but his eyes are serious. "Just be careful."