Taking What's His (Entangled Brazen) (7 page)

Sam nodded frantically. “I’ll stay away.”

“Good.” Holt shoved him one last time, then stepped back. “Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

Sam ran. Legit ran.

She didn’t blame him one little bit.

As soon as he was gone, Holt slammed the door shut behind him and locked it. He ran his hand through his hair, his back still to Lydia, and let out a long breath. When he turned, the murderous glow was gone. But he still looked ready to pounce.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m f-fine.”

“I saw him come in as I left, but it took me a second to recognize him. Once I did, I came back up to make sure you were okay.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”

She licked her lips. “But… Thank you.”

“Why did you—?” He broke off, squaring his jaw. Lydia gave him time to think. “Why did you let him in?”

“He said he needed to pick up some stuff here. I hadn’t seen anything of his, but I figured maybe I’d missed it.” She shrugged, swallowing hard. “So I let him in.”

“Lydia, don’t let guys like him in.” He caught her chin, his touch feather light. “As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t let guys like me in, either. I’m starting to think this whole nun idea of Steven’s is a good one.”

She tried to laugh at his joke—at least, she
thought
it was a joke—but she choked on it, and all that came out was a weird sobbing sound. She covered her mouth and wanted to run for her room, crawl into bed, and never come out again. It wasn’t that she was scared or anything. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have stopped Sam before she’d let him actually hurt her. She just felt…

Icky. Dirty.

As if she needed a shower.

Holt paled, took a step toward her, but stopped. “Lydia.”

“I’m fine.” She held her hand up, the other still covering her mouth. “Really.”

He took another step, cursed under his breath, then closed the distance between them. Within seconds, he had her in his arms and was walking toward the couch. As he sat down with her and kissed her temple, he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

“I-I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I should have fucking killed him,” he growled. “Next time, let me.”

“No. And like I said, I’m not scared.” She lifted her hand to touch his face. At the last second, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be intimate with him, so she let her hand fall to her lap…empty. “I’m pissed off.”

His lips twitched. “I am, too.”

“He’s such a douchebag. To do that. To kiss me like that…” She shuddered and fought the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth again. “What a…a…”

“Fucking prick,” Holt supplied. “Loser. Asshole. Scum of the fucking earth.”

“Yes, all of those,” she said, nodding. “And more that I can’t think of right now because I’m all worked up.”

He cupped her cheek, his touch tender. Apparently the rules didn’t stop
him
from touching her all he wanted. “We can write them all down so you remember for next time.”

“There better not
be
a next time. I never want to see him again.”

“You won’t.” His jaw flexed. “Not if I have anything to say about that.”

Her stomach twisted hard to the left, and it was then that she realized she was cradled in his lap, and he was holding her close. Close enough that she could feel his erection pressing against her butt, and smell the manly scent of his cologne. Close enough that they both froze, breaths held, as they became aware of one another.

It made her want to forget all about his words. Forget all about being
friends
. She had enough friends, damn it. She desired
him
. But he didn’t want her. And she had to respect that. Had to respect
him
. So, she cleared her throat and wiggled free. As she slipped off his lap, he let out a small groan. She hadn’t meant to rub her butt up against his erection…but she totally had.

“Jesus, Lydia.”

Her cheeks heated. “Sorry. So sorry. Uh, thanks for the rescue, by the way. You’re a good friend to have around.”

“Any time, Lydia.” He stood up awkwardly, tugging on his khakis. “Any fucking time.”

Leaning down, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her temple. When he pulled back, his lips hovered over hers. So close, and yet so freaking far. “I have to go to work now, but don’t open the door for any strange men. Especially me.”

She swallowed hard. “I’ll always open the door for you. If you don’t want me to let you in, then don’t knock.”

His fingers tightened on her hair. “I wish it was that easy. I really fucking do.”

With that, he let go of her and left without another word. The second the door closed behind him, she collapsed against the couch, her fingers pressed to her lips.

What did that even
mean
?

Chapter Nine

On Monday morning, Holt glanced at the clock for what had to be the millionth fucking time. All day long, Lydia had been on his mind. Her smell. Her laugh. The way she’d clung to him, all fiery and pissed off at her douchebag of an ex. But mostly, he’d been thinking about how close he’d been to fucking her the other night, and how he never should have stopped.

Sure, she deserved better. But in his opinion, most women deserved better than the men they were with. It was always that way, because men were dicks by nature. Maybe it went against his DNA to admit that, but what the fuck ever. It was true. So, yeah, he was a dick.

But so was every other guy out there.

If she had to be with one of them—if she refused to be sensible and join a convent—why couldn’t it be him?

A knock sounded on the door, and he glanced up gratefully. Today had to be the longest day in the history of all mankind, so he’d welcome the distraction. Any distraction. “Come in,” he called out.

Cooper Shillings popped his head in, scanned the room, and walked inside. “Hey, man.”

“Hello.” Holt sat up straight and tugged on his shirt. He’d been slouching, damn it. His boss rarely came into his office, so he hadn’t expected him to do so today. “How can I help you?”

“Have you talked to Gordon lately?”

Holt blinked. “Yeah, Friday. Why?”

“I want to do something for him, because of that whole princess thing.” Cooper waved a hand, his green eyes brighter than normal, and sat in front of Holt’s desk. “Apparently, when I fell in love with Kayla, I became a fucking softie and want everyone else to be happy, too.”

Holt choked on a laugh. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“He’s listed as private and is unsearchable in the databases, so I want to send his address to the queen. Just in case.” Cooper paused, then pulled a file out of his lap. “This is her information. Just see that she finds it in her phone, or on her laptop somehow. But he can’t know we did it. Neither can she.”

Holt blinked. “Let me get this straight. You want me to hack a queen’s phone, give her Gordon’s number, and then back out of it and act like I never did it?”

Cooper nodded once. “Yep. Exactly.”

Exactly the distraction he needed. “Perfect.” Holt grinned. “I’m on it.”

“Thanks, man.” Cooper stood and tugged on his suit jacket. “It means a lot to me, and him, even if you’ll never get the credit.”

“I—” He shrugged, taking a second to gather his thoughts because an intense pain in his head cut off his train of thought. “I don’t need any credit.”

“Good.” Cooper hesitated, running his hand through his light brown hair. “How have you been since starting here? Adjusting okay to civilian life?”

Holt glanced up.
Hell no
. “Uh…”

“I know your story. It’s the story we all have.” Cooper shrugged. “But yours is a little worse. I know it’s been tough for you to adjust to the changes you’ve been forced to accept.”

What all did he know? Holt certainly hadn’t told him shit. “My struggles are no different than anyone else’s.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.” Cooper eyed Holt. “I saw on your physical report that you were having a few symptoms from the IED attack. Do you still suffer from headaches? Or episodes where you can’t think properly?”

Like being unable to form a quick-witted reply? Like being able to sleep, or feel normal? Like never forgetting what it was like to shoot his squad leader in the head, after he’d begged him to put him out of his misery? Of course he still had issues with all of that shit, but if he admitted it…Cooper would sack him. He would have to.

More than ever, he missed that life he’d once had before that horrible night in the fucking desert. Missed the guy he used to be. Missed being normal.
But you felt normal with Lydia, and you slept, too
, an inner voice whispered.
You could have it, with her
.

“Holt?” Cooper asked, his brows lowered. “You in there?”

How long had he been lost in thought?

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s been a tough road, but I’m fine. I don’t have any episodes any more. The headaches are gone, too. Thanks for giving me the job. I know there had to have been more qualified applicants.”

Ones who could still function fully. One who didn’t have a fucked up brain that couldn’t form coherent thoughts half the time. Who didn’t deserve to be fired for lying through his teeth to his boss. But Holt didn’t have a choice.

What boss in their right mind would keep a guy who suffered from migraines so severe he couldn’t function at a hundred percent for a whole week?

“I only hire the best,” Cooper said, not dropping his stare. “I hired you because you were the man for the job. End of story.”

Holt swallowed hard. He didn’t feel like the best man for anything. Not even for himself, and certainly not for Lydia. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Cooper inclined his head toward the file. “Let me know when it’s done, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

The door closed behind Cooper, and Holt leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked in front of his stomach. He liked his boss. In fact, he liked all the people he worked with. They were all fighters, like him, with various amounts of damage. Both inside and out. Of course, when he was with them, he felt like even more of a fuck up.

At least they didn’t stumble over words, or stay up all night staring at the unmoving ceiling fan because when it was on, they had episodes. Flashbacks of helicopters, and bombs, and blood. So much fucking blood. It felt like no matter how many times he showered, he’d never wash it all away.

Hell, Cooper was engaged and happy as hell. Jake was in love with a woman who hated him, but at least he’d been strong enough to fall in love in the first place. And Gordon was together enough to get a fucking
princess
to fall in love with him. They just needed a little push to get them back together, and it was Holt’s job to give it to them.

Again, Lydia’s laugh crossed his mind, taunting him with its clarity. With its perfection. After he’d left her high and dry the other night, he’d had nothing but his hand and his memories of her to keep him company. And that’s all he’d had since, too. After easing the need a little bit, he’d felt as if he had a good hold on what to do next.

His best friend was her brother, so he obviously couldn’t avoid her forever—even though he’d done a pretty good job of it up until now. On top of that, he liked her. He didn’t want to avoid her. So at two in the morning he’d come up with the brilliant idea to be her friend. Her fucking
friend
.

Shit, he’d have better luck flying with bird wings than remaining her friend.

He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t touch her again, and he’d lasted, what, ten minutes? They hadn’t even made it inside the building before he’d been on her, his hand between her legs and his tongue in her mouth.

But he was going to be her
friend
now? Dumbass.

Shaking his head, he opened the file and set to work at giving Gordon a shot at his happily ever after. A happily ever after he’d never have for himself.

By the time he was finished, it was ten after five, and he was free to go home. Still, he sat there at his desk, staring ahead. It was Monday night. Would Lydia be going out with friends? Hitting up a bar? Hitting on some guy? He’d introduced her to how much fun sex could be, so who was to say she wouldn’t want more now?

From some other guy, who might not treat her right?

He rose and grabbed his jacket. He needed a stiff drink or ten. He also needed to find some nameless girl, with an unmemorable face, bring her home, and fuck her until he forgot all about Lydia, and her beautiful laugh. Until he forgot how much he wanted her.

And how much he couldn’t have her.

…

Lydia leaned closer to her friend, struggling to hear her over the loud music. After her craptastic day, she’d agreed to go out dancing and drinking in a local bar. But now that she was here, she wished she hadn’t. Who the heck went to bars on a Monday night? She’d prefer to be at home in her
Doctor Who
robe, reading a good book, or binge watching some of her favorite episodes with David Tennant in them.

But instead, she was in a bar, in a too short skirt, in a too tight top, wearing a pair of heels that would more likely than not have her flat on her butt by the end of the night.

On top of that, she had no idea what to do about the phone call she’d gotten earlier. She’d been offered a job in Delaware. One that was amazing, and perfect, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But it was in Delaware.

She didn’t
want
to move to Delaware.

“Hey,” Gianna pointed over her shoulder, “that hot guy over there wants you to dance with him.”

Lydia looked. Sure enough, a brown haired man watched her. As soon as they made eye contact, he smiled and held up his drink. “Want one?” he mouthed.

He was attractive enough, if you were into that totally-hot-in-a-movie-star way type of guy. Which every woman in America was. But for some reason…she didn’t want to go over there. Didn’t want a drink from him. “He’s cute,” she said noncommittally.

“Cute?” Gianna rolled her eyes. “He’s beyond cute. He’s perfect. Go over there.”

“But—”

“We’re not here to ignore cute boys. We’re supposed to be having fun. Forgetting all about responsibilities and job offers. So stop thinking.” She pushed Lydia forward. “And
go
.”

Lydia stumbled forward, glaring over her shoulder at her friend as she went. When she reached the guy’s side, she smiled at him. He was even cuter up close, but his eyes weren’t right. And his hair was too light. And he didn’t have glasses on.

“Whatcha drinking, baby?” the guy asked.

She flinched. That’s what Holt had called her that night she’d gone home with him. At the time, it had seemed hot. But from this guy, it felt lazy. “Cranberry vodka, please.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered the drinks. As he did so, she scanned the crowd for Gianna. She was off chatting to some guy Lydia didn’t recognize. Just as she started to sweep her gaze back toward her drink partner…she saw
him
. Holt sat four seats down, next to some blonde chick who easily could have been Barbie.

And from what Lydia could see, Barbie was way too ready to go home with him. Every time he said something, she tossed her head back and laughed hysterically.

No one was
that
funny. Not even Holt.

He watched the other woman, his lids lowered and his expression bored. He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Or maybe that was what she was feeling, or wishful thinking. Because seeing him flirt with some bimbo was definitely high on her list of things she didn’t want to do. Or see.

“Here you go,” the guy next to her said.

She forced herself to look away from Holt, whose attention had dipped even lower on Barbie’s body, and smiled at the guy. Suddenly, it seemed highly important that she give this guy a fair shot at being cool. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Paul,” he said, his focus securely locked on her boobs. “Yours?”

“Lydia. What do you do, Paul?”

He pressed his lips together. “I’m in between jobs right now, but I’m in marketing.”

“Oh, cool.” She took a sip of her drink, and without permission, her eyes peeked at Holt. He’d spotted her, and was glaring at her over Barbie’s head. She looked away quickly, her heart racing. “Uh…”

She couldn’t think of a darn thing to say to this guy.

He didn’t seem to mind. After tossing back his whiskey, he swiped a hand over his mouth and smiled. “Want to dance?”

She squinted at Holt again. He leaned into Barbie, and spoke slowly into her ear. Barbie shivered and rested a hand on Holt’s thigh. Lydia was two seconds from storming over there and forcibly removing it, but then she remembered that he didn’t want her to be his. She hadn’t even seen him since he’d told her he wanted to be her friend, saved her from Sam, and then left. So he was free to do what he pleased.

And so was she.

“Absolutely.” She downed her drink way too fast, then stood on her feet. The room spun, but she didn’t care. She needed to do something to take her mind off of Holt and all the things that came with him. He’d obviously done the same to her. “Let’s go.”

Paul grabbed her hand and brought her out on the floor. The second he found an empty spot he was on her. He danced, but his hands roamed places they didn’t need to. Nothing crazy or improper, but close enough to make her tenser than she should have been. Maybe it was because of the earlier encounter with Sam, or maybe it was because somewhere behind her, Holt was hitting on Barbie…but for some reason, she wasn’t feeling it.

Determined to stick it out through the dance, she matched the guy’s moves. He was actually a pretty good dancer. And by the time they’d finished the first song, she’d changed her mind about leaving. She was actually having fun, and she hadn’t had fun in way too long. But she wouldn’t be going home with the guy. He was a distraction from real life, and nothing more.

The next song cued, and she grinned at Paul. “This is fun,” she shouted.

“Yeah, it is!” he shouted back, slipping his hands behind her back. “You’re a good dancer.”

His fingers rested right over her butt, but didn’t touch. He kept it PG-13. And, really, once she was over the disappointment of him not being Holt, he seemed like a pretty cool guy. Too bad his touch didn’t light her on fire like Holt’s. Leaning in, she replied, “Thank you. I—”

“Excuse me,” said a voice she knew better than her own. “May I cut in?”

Paul looked at her, his face full of disappointment. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. To send Holt away. But that wasn’t going to happen. “Can you give us a minute, please?” she asked Paul.

He nodded once, his eyes on Holt. “Sure thing.”

After he left, she crossed her arms. “What’s up?”

“We’re on the dance floor, so we should probably dance,” he said, dipping his head down so he could speak in her ear without shouting. “Dance with me, Lyd?”

Her heart twisted at the soft question. The way he used her nickname never failed to make her quiver, which was silly, really. It was just a name. “Sure.”