Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

After dinner, I roam around the hallways of the main house,
feeling antsy but having nothing to do. I hear the sound of a TV from the den
and walk toward it. When I stick my head in, I see the TV tuned to
Sportscenter, and have to poke my head over the back of the couch to see Bree
sprawled out across it.

"Sports fan?" I ask. She starts so violently that
she almost rolls onto the floor.

"No." She glances up at the TV. "I mean,
yeah, sort of. You know." She reaches for the remote and flicks off the
TV, then sits up straight on the couch.

"...Right," I reply. I stand awkwardly at the
entrance to the room for a moment before I decide to go in. I drop into the
armchair and kick my feet up on the coffee table. "So Jack says you're a
writer."

"Yeah," she says, blushing slightly. "I'm
trying to own it a little more, being a writer. My boyfriend says that I
should."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend?"

"Miles. I'm working on a novel right now, but I haven't
let anyone read it yet."

"Not even him?"

"No...in a way, it would be even scarier for him to
read it, because I care so much about what he thinks."

"I see what you mean."

"Hey, can I ask you...how's Carter's leg doing? I know
you went to physical therapy with him today."

"Let me guess, he won't talk to you about it."

"So there is something wrong?"

"No, no. I just mean he seems like he doesn't really
like opening up."

She laughs. "Yup, that's him. Usually he'll talk to me
about stuff, but not this time. I don't want to make you feel weird if you
don't feel comfortable sharing."

"No, I mean, I don't want you to worry. It seems like
his leg is healing well. The doctors seem happy. We just went through some
exercises that he's supposed to do at home."

"Oh, good. He's being even more tight-lipped than
usual, so I thought maybe it was still hurt or something. He won't even tell us
how it happened."

"Really?"
That's strange. He told me on the
plane.

"No, and his medical records are sealed,
obviously." She glances at me. "I don't suppose he—"

"No," I cut her off. "Hasn't mentioned
it." I feel fine about sharing his progress, but he definitely told me
about the bomber in confidence, even if he didn't know who I was at the time.

"Where did you go in Europe?" she asks, her eyes
lighting up.

"Well, Paris, the south of France, Barcelona,
Brussels..."

"Are you going to go back to college now?" she
asks. I pause. She's definitely blunt.

"I don't know, to be honest. It's harder than I thought
it would be. Are you in school?"

"No, but the good thing about writing is I don't need
anyone else's help to do it. I mean, I'd love to get a degree, but it's really
expensive, and I think your dad's already done enough."

"How do you—" I begin to ask, unsure of exactly
what my father's done.

"What are you two talking about?" Carter asks as
he walks in. Damn. He offered to help with dishes and I thought I might have
ditched him for a little while longer. He's been on me like glue all day.

"You," Bree replies with a smile. Carter glances
between us, unsure if his sister is joking or not, but neither one of us clue
him in.

"Do you know if Jack's in town?" Carter asks.

"Dunno," Bree replies with a shrug.

"He's back on the road," I answer.

"I can't believe you tackled him," Bree says. I
glance down at my phone as she takes her brother to task. It just lit up with a
new text message from an unknown number.

Please tell me you're back in town for the holidays.

Maybe
, I type back.
Depends on who this is.

Nikki, you ass!

Holy shit. Nikki? She was one of my best friends in high
school. We both grew up in Tampa but didn't meet until we were in boarding
school together. Any time I got into trouble, she was right by my side. Usually
because she was the one who caused the trouble in the first place.

Back in town for the holidays and after
, I reply.

WHATTTTT??? You have to come out tonight!! New club just
opened. Can't believe you didn't text me you were back!

I do feel guilty I didn't let her know. It's just that if
I'm trying to get serious about my life, Nikki's probably the last person I
should be hanging out with. She married an heir she met on someone's yacht and
has never worked a day in her life. Still, she's fun as hell and being in this
house is driving me crazy.

K but just for a bit. Have to get up early tomorrow
, I
lie, trying to build in an excuse for not staying long. I stand, looking as
nonchalant as possible, and head for the hallway. I'm hoping Carter is
distracted by his sister's teasing, but I hear his footsteps behind me.

I keep my gaze forward as I head back for the boat house,
refusing to acknowledge his presence. I pick out a strapless leather mini and
pumps, then throw on some smoky eyeliner and a couple layers of black mascara.
I grab a clutch and head back down the steps, knowing full well that Carter is
waiting at the bottom of them.

"No," he states simply as I breeze past him,
headed for the garage.

"Yep."

"You are not going out right now. A bar is the last
place you should be."

"It's a club, actually."

"Even worse. There are too many people. I won't be able
to keep you secure."

"Feel free to stay home then," I reply, opening
the side door of the garage and heading down the steps to my Audi. I open the
passenger door and sit down, shutting it behind me. I wait, my hands crossed
calmly in my lap. After a moment, the driver's side door opens and Carter gets
behind the wheel.

"There are Afghani generals that are easier to protect
than you," he growls. I hand him the car keys.

Chapter Fifteen

I smile as we step out of the car and Carter begrudgingly
hands the keys to the valet. There's a line wrapped all the way around the side
of the building, but I walk straight up to the bouncer as Carter hurries after
me.

"Alexa Stratton...and bodyguard," I tell him.

"That is some dress, Ms. Stratton," he replies
with a smile. "I'd let you in even if you weren't on the list. You let me
know if you need anything at all."

I feel rather than see Carter glare at him as he opens the
etched metal door for us. My heartbeat rises with the rhythm of the music and I
feel perfectly in my element as I walk through the throngs of people. Any
insecurity and anxiety I've been feeling melts away, driven by the music's
heavy bass.

My head turns at a woman's high-pitched shriek, and I feel
Carter tense next to me. "LEX! Oh my god oh my god!" I laugh as I
spot Nikki standing on a couch in the VIP area and frantically waving at me.
The VIP hostess raises the red velvet rope as I walk over to meet her. "I
can't believe you're really here!" she cries, jumping onto the floor and
wrapping me in a hug.

"You look exactly the same, but with bangs!" I
laugh, running my hand over her long, golden blonde hair.

"To old friends!" she says, grabbing a shot from a
tray as a cocktail waitress drops them at the table.

"Old friends!" I echo her, automatically reaching
out and downing a shot with her. The vodka burns as it runs down my throat and
I gladly accept a gulp from Nikki's Cosmo to wash it down.

"Thought you weren't drinking," Carter murmurs in
my ear. I feel my hackles rise, even though I know he's right.

"And who's
this
?" Nikki purrs, laying her
hand on Carter's shoulder.

"Future step-brother and current pain in the ass,"
I explain.

"You want a drink?" Nikki offers.

"No thanks," he replies.

"I'll take one!"

"Alexa..." Carter protests, but whatever he wants
me to do, I only want to do the opposite.

Nikki steps between us and links her arms with ours, guiding
us to the couches. A few people from my old gang are here, along with a bunch
of new faces that I don't recognize. After the pleasantries, I turn back to
Nikki.

"Where's the husband?"

"Oh, he's so old, he goes to bed at like eleven every
night," she says, rolling her eyes. "But he doesn't care if I go out
after that, so whatever!" she adds brightly and hands me a cranberry vodka
that she just made from the bottles on the table. "What about you? Any men
in your life?"

"No, definitely not!" I reply. "Definitely,
definitely not."

"Got it!" Nikki says with a laugh. "You have
to come shopping with me tomorrow."

"I don't know if I can..."

"Please! I have nothing to wear!"

"You have more clothes than anyone I know! And this is
from the Gucci fall collection if I'm not mistaken," I say, fingering the
hem of her beaded silk mini-dress.

"Yeah, and now everyone's seen me in it! So, shopping tomorrow?"

"It's just, I'm trying to save up some money," I
explain.

Nikki laughs so suddenly that she spits Cosmo across the
table. "For god's sake, why? You're, like, one of the richest people I
know, and I know actual royalty!"

"No, my
father
is rich, I'm not! And I don't
want him to bankroll everything. I'll just wind up having to ask him for
permission for every little thing. I need to save money if I want to go back to
school on my own terms."

"Go back to school? You don't need to do that! You want
me to introduce you to one of Jonathan's friends?"

"No, no, forget it," I sigh, downing the rest of
my drink. "I get too stressed out thinking about it all," I say as I
pour myself another. My calm has been broken, and one more drink will settle me
down again. "You know this DJ?" I ask her, nodding to the guy on the
raised platform.

Nikki always has her finger on the pulse of the music scene,
so I can sit back as she launches into an explanation of this DJ's influences,
and the better ones she's seen in the big clubs in Europe. Her older husband,
Jonathan, is the heir to a pharmaceuticals fortune that's based out of Tampa,
but she escapes to more exotic locales whenever she can, with or without him.
Though I think she prefers to go without.

Before I know it, I've finished my second drink and Nikki is
pressing another one into my hands as she begins telling me about Jonathan's
eligible friends. I giggle as she lists their best attributes, one being that
his divorce has now completely gone through. She grabs my hand and drapes it
across her shoulder. At her insistence, I chug whatever rum-based concoction
she just made me so that I don't bring it onto the dance floor and spill it
everywhere.

She guides me out of the VIP area and through the crowd. I
marvel at the multi-colored lights that swing every now and then across the
otherwise dark space. Moist, glistening bodies press in around me and I throw
my head back and laugh with Nikki. Our limbs move with the music and I have no
worries in the world. The lights above me change and look almost like they're
spinning, or maybe it's all in my head.

A handsome man with a dark beard sidles up to me and takes
my hand. His hips press against mine and his arms wrap around the small of my
back. He's a good dancer, and quickly takes the lead. My body follows his as he
swirls me around and then dips me back. Nikki joins in, pressing against his
back as I turn around and spin with the music. I giggle as a short, balding man
makes eye contact with me and wiggles his eyebrows. He looks almost absurdly
out of place, and I look around for an escape route as he begins to dance
toward me.

Suddenly, Carter steps around a woman in front of me and
grabs my arm. "We need to go. There are too many people here. It's not
safe."

"Carter, stop being such a killjoy!" I reply, and
wrap my arms around his neck. "Just have some fun!" I press my hips
against his and try to get him to move them back and forth. "Consider it
physical therapy!"

"Thought you were pissed at me," he growls.

"You caught me in a good mood," I sigh, tilting my
head back and letting my hair swing from side to side.

"You mean a
drunk
mood. You said you weren't
going to drink anymore."

"I just wanted to relax a little!" I yank my hands
away from him. "Just let it go OK? I feel like I have to walk on eggshells
in that house and I just want to forget it for a while!" I throw my hands
up in the air and move away from him, swaying with the music.

"Alexa!"

I look back at him. Shit, he looks stressed. His jaw is
clenching and his neck muscles are bunching out. He needs to learn to take
things less seriously. The cute guy with the beard grabs me around the waist
and pulls me toward him and Nikki. She's so fun and pretty. We need to hang out
more.

"You're the best!" I yell at her.

"No, you're the best!" she yells back.

"We're leaving," Carter says, taking my arm and
pulling me away.

"I don't want to!" I retort, planting my feet.

"Hey, chill out," the bearded man says, placing a
calming hand on Carter's shoulder. "We were just dancing. I didn't know
she was here with—"

"Get the fuck off me!" Carter spits back, his eyes
flaring. The music changes to a faster song and the crowd surges behind him,
sending a couple dancers stumbling against him. His head flies wildly around
and his knees bend into a slight crouch. "Alexa, we have to go
now
!"
he yells, his eyes darting around as though we're under attack.

"Carter..." I say, stepping toward him, hands
outstretched. Around the edge of the dance floor, a cocktail waitress trips and
sends glass flying and a stool toppling over.

Carter drops to the floor, his hands over his ears and his
head bowed. I rush over to him, my concern cutting through my drunken state.

"I'm here. Hey, I'm here," I murmur, spreading my
fingers over his hands and ducking my head beneath his so that he'll see me.
"Everything's OK."

"Can't breathe," he gasps.

"I think it's a panic attack," I tell him.
"You're hyperventilating. There's nothing actually bad happening, alright?
You have to try to understand that." A couple dancing next to us jostles
against us and I'm worried we're going to get stepped on. "Let's get out
of here. We're going to stand up, and you just keep your arms around me and
just look at the back of my head, alright? Just focus on me."

He nods, and we stand up together. I turn around and wrap
his arms around my waist. I step forward with my right foot and he follows me,
syncing up our walking motions as I make my way through the crowd with him
behind me. I push the front door open and thankfully there are a couple taxis
sitting at the curb, waiting for club-goers to come out.

I open the back door and tap on Carter's hand, signaling for
him to come around me. I shuttle him into the back seat and then shut the door
behind us and give the cabbie directions back to the house.

"Your car..." Carter groans, his head in his hands
as he rests his elbows on his legs.

"Fuck my car," I tell him, rubbing his back.
"I'll get it tomorrow."