Cocky F@#ker (Tangled Desires #3) (11 page)

The scent of something burning permeates the air.
Maybe I don’t know that for certain. Perhaps there’s a slim chance I’m wrong. I sure as hell want to be.
“Really? Did he even tell you he’s leaving tomorrow? He’s heading off into the sunset, Little Bit, the same way he always does. Do you really think he won’t go back to ignoring you again? Just because he got some pussy?”

Tom slaps me across the back of the head. “Don’t talk to her like that, asshole.”

“She has to understand.” I turn on him. “He’s never stuck with a woman for more than a couple weeks.” And that was in high school. Since then he’s been only interested in a night or two at most with the same woman. “I know him. I know him like he’s my damn brother. But this.” I wave my hand in their direction.

“It’s not such a bad thing, is it?” Tom asks quietly. “The two of them, together.”

“Are you kidding me?” I twist around to stare at them.
Is it really so bad?
“I bet you’re thinking he’ll stick around now he’s knocked you up. That he’ll marry you.”

“No. I don’t expect…” She winces, dropping her head so that her hair hides her eyes.

Tom clears his throat. “Mace, I don’t think she’s pregnant.”

He says it quietly, but it’s the way he says it, sort of shaky, with far too much seriousness for the youngest of my brothers, that has me staring at him.

“I’m not,” I hear Claire say.

“Then whose fucking pee stick did I find?” I whip my gaze between Tom and Claire, and they both answer at the same time, “I don’t know.”

But Tom is sheet white like a fucking ghost.

“Tommy?” Claire beats me to the punch. “What did you do?”

“Shit,” he says, and scuffs a patch of grass with his boot. “I think I knocked someone up, but I don’t know who.”

“Fuck.” I stumble over my own feet as I take a step back, my gaze darting to Raze still lying on the ground. I’ve gone way too fucking far. Caused far more damage than I should have, but I will always go too far for her, for any of my family. “I still don’t like that he’s sleeping with you.”

“I know, Mace. But I’ve loved him since I was sixteen.” She stares me dead on, her words written all over her face, in the way she carefully cradles Razer’s head in her lap, and her hand in his. “You’re going to need to get used to it.”

“I took things too far. You’re my baby sister, for fuck’s sake.” I crouch next to her. “The idea of any man knocking up my sister and not putting a ring on your finger first makes me want to kill a fucker.”

“I get it,” she says. But I’m not sure she does. Not really. I don’t want her having to do things alone. She deserves better than that.

“I’m sorry.” I squeeze her arm lightly. “We’ll sort this shit out.” Then I focus on Tom. “Well, my slut of a little brother, how are you going to work out which lucky lady is carrying your dickhead spawn?”

Tom throws his hands up on his head and shrugs. “It would have been nice if she’d left her name when she mailed the stick to me.”

“Fucking weird,” I say.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Tom chuckles, this nervous sound in the back of his throat.

“Alcohol. We all need a beer right?” I sure as fuck do. Hell, I need a lot more to deal with what’s gone down. Like a shrink. A couple sessions on the couch might be in order after this.

“And a slab of meat for your boyfriend’s face.” I kind of gag on that word. “That feels fucking weird to say.”

“Those two always were weird.” Tom glances back at them, smirking as we head across the lawn, and I swear he’s known what’s been going on all along. It makes me wonder if he knows about me and Chelsea at all. Then he stomps up the stairs ahead of me. “I’ll check and see if we can save dinner.”

I take a seat on the deck with Razer while Tom goes to get more meat, and Claire’s inside searching for a washcloth and antiseptic. She’s got her heart set on babying him, not that he needs it or deserves it.

She’s still shaken from watching me beat the shit out of her boyfriend, and so am I. And I don’t want to say or do anything that’s going to upset her any more than she is.

The worst part is I know Razer could have stopped me. He could have taken me down so easily while I was locked in my own head. But he didn’t. Guilt, I guess, for not owning up to this thing with Claire.

“Here.” I shove a beer in his hand. I’m still not done with him, though the anger that fried my brain has dissipated. It’s probably hypocritical. In fact, I know it is, my need for him to prove himself by fighting for her when I’ve never been one to fight for the girl I want. But I’m still going to make him do it.

“Thanks.” Raze knocks the top off the brew and sucks back a mouthful.

“You didn’t block,” I say. “You could have at least made an effort to protect your face.”

“Why?” He raises one brow. “Want to feel better about beating the shit out of me?”

Yeah. Yes, I do
. And I also want to know why. I want him to give me something that’ll allow me to start dealing with this idea of him and her. I scrape at the label on my bottle with my thumb. How far would I have gone if Claire hadn’t jumped me? She fought harder for him than anyone has because her feelings for him go deep. I can see that now. “You deserved it, you prick.”

Except I’m not sure I believe that. I think he probably deserves an apology. One that will come when he proves he isn’t using my sister as a distraction.

“You should see someone about your issues, Mace.” He rests his arm on the table, turning his beer in his hand as he stares me down. “Sure, I deserved a few rounds with your fist. I should have told you. But there’s something else going on with you.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” I say. “Better than your face anyway.” But he’s right. I have to deal with this before I hurt someone else. Chelsea pops into my head, the night she told me she was scared of me. Apparently, she has every reason to be after all, and I hate that. I hate that I couldn’t control myself. And I can’t help but think that I should be fighting harder if I want her in my life. Fighting my demons, and fighting for her.

“Yeah.” With a wry grin, he rubs two fingers along his swollen jaw. “It stings like a bitch.”

“I told her you’re leaving tomorrow,” I say. “Told her your track record with women.” One I wish he would prove me wrong about this time ‘round. “Told her not to have expectations where you’re concerned.”

“Shit.” He grimaces.

“I wasn’t going to let you cloud her judgement with whatever lies you’ve been telling her to get her to sleep with you,” I tell him, needing him to know what I’m throwing in his way when it comes to my sister. The fucker is going to have to learn to fight for his woman, instead of scurrying around like a mouse. “She needed to know you’re not going to stick around. That you’re not the type she wants to settle for.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he mutters.

“Well, you’re not staying here.” I wack my palm against the surface of the table. “I want you out first thing tomorrow.”

“That’s fucking nice of you. Giving me a night to get my shit together.”

“You’re lucky I’m giving you that long. If it wasn’t Tom’s house I’d have kicked you out on your ass already.” Because right now I can’t handle the two of them together. Not when he said he was leaving anyway. Although the way he’s talking sounds like he might be in the process of changing his mind.
Or maybe he never stopped feeling like that about her?

“So that’s it?” he asks. “Twenty-five years as brothers and you’re done?”

“Something like that.”
It’s your move, buddy.

“I’m not leaving,” he says. “Not going anywhere. As long as Claire wants me around I’m going to be here. So you might want to consider getting the fuck over it.”

Good.

“We’ll see.” I toss my empty bottle at the trashcan. It clangs against the side and rolls into the corner. “Once you’re out of this house.”

“Fine.” He growls as he nails the trash can with his own stubbie. “I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“You did a good job on his face, Mace. Was it worth it?” Claire joins us, a basin of water and antiseptic in her hands that she places on the table before sitting in front of Razer. She can barely look at me, and I don’t blame her. I lost it out there and she has every right to be angry with me. Hell, I’m angry with myself, and yet I can’t let Raze off the hook that easily.

She dips the cloth in the basin and rings it out before dabbing gently at his face and speaking only to him, “I’m so sorry
he’s
an ass.”

“It’s okay.” He grasps her wrist, staring at her in a way I’ve never noticed before. “You’re worth it.”

She stills, the cloth pressed to his jaw, then leans in to kiss him.

“For fuck’s sake.” I jump up from the table and stalk to the door. It’s going to take a hell of a lot for me to get used to the idea of them together, let alone see them kiss. “I can’t watch this. You two are fucking sick.”

Chelsea

“I did something stupid.”

I open up the door after having run downstairs to find Mace standing on the stoop, leaning heavily against the doorframe. I must have fallen asleep after Claire left because he was pounding the wood loud enough to wake the dead.

His hair is dripping with sweat, his face shining under the porch light. “Really stupid.”

His chest heaves as he draws in long breaths, the soggy cotton of his T-shirt sticking to his muscles. He’s clearly been running.

“I heard.” I step out of the way, allowing him to come in, but not getting too close to him, because he’s got this lost look in his gaze that makes me want to wrap my arms around him and comfort him. “Claire said something about you protecting her virtue.”

“Her and Raze. They’ve been sneaking around all summer.” He grasps my wrist, and my pulse speeds up, but he makes no move to pull me closer. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What did you do?” Claire hadn’t gone into specifics, but Mace is so tentative, so careful as he holds onto my arm. The same way he was the night I told him I was scared of him. It must have been more than the usual He-man bullshit the boys dish out to each other for him to react like this.

“I…” He exhales deeply and winces. “I should go. I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“Come on,” I say, pushing my hand into his and leading him through the house to the kitchen. It doesn’t matter how much we fight or how hard I try to shut him out, I can’t deal with him hurting like this.

He wanders about the kitchen while I make camomile tea. I don’t think he’s looking at anything, too lost in his own head to see what’s around him. I push a cup into his hand, and he stares at it. “What’s this shit?”

“Camomile. It’s supposed to be calming.” I touch his shoulder. “You look like you could use it.”

“If it works.” He gives me a tight smile, then gulps the hot liquid. “Tastes kind of flowery.”

“Yeah.” I make my way into the living room, knowing he’ll follow. He’s so un-Mace like, struggling with his thoughts. I pat the spot on the sofa beside me. “So tell me what happened.”

“I hit him.” He rubs at his hair as he collapses beside me. It’s grown out a little since he’s been back, a little wavy at the ends now. Without thinking, I run my fingers through a few of the wayward hairs at his nape.

“He’s diddling my sister, so I hit him.”

“I’m not surprised,” I tell him. Though I am surprised at his use of the word diddling, but I guess it must be weird for him to think of his little sister and his best friend together.

“I didn’t just hit him.” He rests his head back on the sofa and closes his eyes. “I forgot where I was. Who I was punishing. I could have seriously hurt him, because I lost it.”

“He wouldn’t have let you.”

“That’s the thing. That’s what makes it worse.” He slumps deeper into the soft leather. “He didn’t try to defend himself. I beat the shit out of my friend and he didn’t even hit back. All because I couldn’t control myself.”

He’s back in that place, where it all went to hell, and I ache for him. I would do anything to not see him carrying this weight around that almost seems too much to bear. “What happened over there? What brought you home, Mace?”

“An accident.” The lines of his face deepen, and I itch to smooth them out with my hand, but his jaw is rigid. “I had a shot lined up. It should have been impossible to fuck up, but I did. I missed my target. Hit someone else instead. She was young. Far too young to be the enemy.”

“It was an accident and she was a soldier.” His voice breaks, and I don’t think he believes what he’s saying though I’m sure it’s probably true. That it’s the official line he would have been given in whatever investigation they did. “And it’s war, you know. We do things, see things that the average person can’t deal with.”

“But you blame yourself.”

“It was my fault,” he croaks. “I pulled the trigger. That’s on me. I can’t change it.” Opening his eyes, he lifts his hand in front of his face. His whole hand is shaking violently. “I haven’t been able to pull a trigger since.”

“I’m a fucking sniper with a hot head, and I can’t shoot. I had to come home. And I still can’t get my shit together. I’m still fucking up left, right, and center.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I don’t know if Little Bit will forgive me for today. I don’t know if I’ve lost my best friend. I’m not sure I have anything left to lose.”