Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(38)

Not long enough. “I was busy.”

“Right. Great American hero here, huh?”

“No, Lance. I’m not a hero just because I joined the military. Maybe you should sign on for a hitch. You don’t seem to be doing anything else.”

“Alexis doesn’t seem very happy to see you.”

I stop, mid-step.

“The f*ck did you just say?”

He straightens up. “You heard me. Must be a bitch, coming back after all this time just to get some * and she won’t put out for you.”

His milk glass shatters on the floor as I take the collar of his shirt in both hands. His heels skid across the floor as I drag him around and pin him to the refrigerator. He feebly tries to hit me, but the blows to my sides just make me angrier. My lips pull back in a sneer, and fiery rage twists in my chest, burning through my heart. Every muscle tenses at once. I could pop the little f*cker’s head like a grape.

“The f*ck did you just say?” I ask him again.

“Sorry-”

I push my knuckles into his throat.

“If you were sorry you wouldn’t have said it, Lance.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out.

“You stay away from her, here me? May, too. I hear you so much as touch either of them, I’ll rip your spine out and f*ck you with it. Understand me?”

“Yes.”

I let go. Flushed and red-faced, he collapses to the floor and clutches at his neck, breathing in ragged, irregular gasps.

I glance over at the broken glass.

“Clean that shit up.”

Then I walk upstairs. I can hear the soft sound of glass scraping on the tiles, then a minute later, the vacuum cleaner running. He’s cleaning it up. Alexis’ bedroom door is open; she’s not inside. Sighing, I head back upstairs to the sewing room. I find the door ajar, and swing it open.

May is sitting on my bed. She has a box in her hand.

“Are these your medals?”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Are they?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Cool. What do they mean?”

“Nothing important. I got this one for three years of meritorious service. That means I didn’t get in trouble.” I pick up my marksmanship badges. “This one’s for rifle, and for pistol.”

“Like, you’re good at shooting?”

“Very good. I’m qualified as a sharpshooter.”

“There’s not very many.”

“I was only in for four years.”

“Oh.”

She sets the box aside. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

I lower myself to the bed next to her. It sinks a lot more under my weight. She still kicks her feet in the air.

“Hawk?”

“Yeah.”

She scratches her arm and looks away from me. “Do you like Alexis?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, do you-”

“I know what you mean. Yes.”

Her voice softens, grows almost childlike. “Why did you have to leave?”

“I didn’t want to. I’m not sure we should be talking about this, May.”

“I won’t tell anybody we talked. I just wanted to know.”

I sigh. “Things are complicated right now.”

She lowers her voice to a breathy whisper. “When we leave, will you come with us?”

“If she wants me to.”

May nods.

“She went somewhere with your dad. I didn’t hear where they were going but he made her dress up in business clothes.”

“She works for him?”

May nods. “All the time. She’s like his assistant.”

“She didn’t tell me that.”

Rising to her feet, May rubs her arms, as though cold. “I’m scared, Hawk. I’m afraid she’s going to try to sneak something out of his office or something, and he’ll hurt her.”

“I won’t let him do that.”

She sighs. “Can you watch her every minute of every day?”

“If I have to.”

“You’re not watching her now.”

I scowl at her.

“I’ll talk to her later. I won’t let her do anything to put herself in danger, I promise.”

She nods slightly. “I should go.”

After she leaves, I realize she went through my things. It doesn’t matter all that much. I’m not even that annoyed. There’s nothing interesting in my stuff anyway. Clothes, some cash, my passport, credit card receipts. I’m set for a while-the contractor job paid me very, very well. All my things fit into a single bag.

I stare at that bag now as I slip the box I carry my citations back into the bottom where it belongs. Looking at them makes me feel odd. Proud, yes, but at the same time all that sweat and blood and dirt and grit seems like a bit much to reduce down to a handful of ribbons and medallions. I look at them and think: I traded Alexis for this?

No, I didn’t. Not by choice.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I retreat back to the sewing room but find it too small, like my shoulders are bumping the walls. Alexis is still gone. I should have moved faster, followed her.

My father will know something is up even if he doesn’t know what. I wouldn’t just come back for no reason after what happened, he must realize that. I still don’t know who sent that picture. My father and brother are out-why would they warn me against themselves? Somebody knows about Alexis meeting with those teachers.