Corps Security: The Series (109 page)

“Right, Pammy. I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I really have no idea who you are.” I try to smile, but when I see the look of crazy-bitch come across her face, I know that things are about to get ugly. “
Stop,
” I say harshly under my breath, “whatever is about to fly out of that pretty little mouth of yours, babe. In case you missed this, there are kids in your presence. I’m sure their parents are already going to lay into me since you decided to relearn your basic male anatomy while standing right in front of them, so the last thing I need is for you to start running that mouth of yours.”

Her eyes turn glacial, and I know—I just know—that she didn’t hear a word I just said.
Fuck. Me.

“You knew my name just fine A WEEK ago when you were driving that thick cock inside me.” She reaches up and attempts to slap me, but I quickly catch her around her slim wrist.

Braving a look around the table behind me wouldn’t be the best move. I can feel the energy getting electric as the group takes in what just flew out of her mouth. A few shocked gasps, deep mumbles of outrage, and one high-pitched laugh that I know belongs to Sway.

I close my eyes and drop my head when I hear Cohen speak.

“Daddy! Roosters can’t drive!”

Looking up, I narrow my eyes at
Pammy
before pulling her away from the table with her wrist still in my hand. She practically has to run to keep up with me in those damn shoes she has on, but I’m so pissed that I don’t even care if she trips and falls.

CHAPTER 7

Chelcie

“Roosters can’t drive, little dude. She was talking about a movie that Uncle Asher took her to,” Greg utters as calmly as he can to a very curious Cohen.

The rest of the table is in a mix of anger and hilarity over the scene we just witnessed between Asher and one of his many whores. And I say whores because that’s exactly what they are. No woman I’ve ever had the displeasure of watching him hook up with has ever looked like she has an ounce of self respect. They’re always so . . . fake. Huge breasts, big butts, and tiny waists. One thing he doesn’t ever discriminate against is their hair color, so hey, at least he keeps an open mind. Disgusting.

There was a time when I felt like he could be
the one.
A time when he wasn’t drunk and sleeping with every easy lay that spread her legs for him. It didn’t happen often, but those rare moments when I would catch him sober were some of the greatest.

“Someone needs to talk to him. This is getting out of control, Ax. I’m shocked that he even remembered what day it is to show up tonight,” Izzy says to her husband.

“Clearly he ran out of liquor,” Dee speaks from across the table.

Beck shakes his head and reaches over her shoulder to pull her closer to his body.

“How do you forget the name of someone that you sleep with?” Sway questions.

“Hell if I know. I remember all of the ladies I’ve had the pleasure of,” Greg chimes in after making sure Cohen is distracted with Nate, Axel and Izzy’s two-year-old son.

“Pig,” Melissa, his wife, smiles at him.

I allow myself a second to feel the wave of jealousy wash over my body before quickly putting it back where it belongs—locked in a box deep inside me.

“When was the last time anyone even saw him without the stench of alcohol oozing out of his skin?” Davey asks.

He, like me, is pretty new to the group. He started as the front office assistant to the guys at Corps Security when Emmy left. Out of everyone who had a hard time after Coop’s death, Emmy might have taken it the hardest. Coop took the bullet that had been meant for her, and I can’t even begin to put myself in her shoes. I hate that she left abruptly, but I understand why she did.

“He’s been drinking nothing stronger than Coke for the last three days,” Maddox says, speaking over the group and gaining every single one of our eyes. But he isn’t looking at anyone else except me.

His expressionless face is just boring into mine, his eyes clearly trying to communicate some kind of hidden message for me alone. I frown at him, not picking up on his underlying meaning.

“You don’t say?” Beck responds dryly.

“Completely drink free?” I don’t know who said it; I’m too busy meeting Maddox’s eyes without breaking, trying desperately to understand what he’s telling me.

“Completely.” His eyes never waver from mine when he confirms.

“That’s good, man. I’ve been worried about him,” Axel, I think, says to Maddox.

There’s more continued conversation about the state of Asher and his grief over Coop’s death. Out of instinct, when I hear them bring up Coop’s name, my hand goes straight to my stomach. I realize my mistake a second too late when Maddox breaks contact and his eyes travel down to where my hand is splayed across my slightly rounded stomach.

Maddox isn’t a stupid man. He’s probably one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. His eyes stay on my stomach—even after I move my hand away as if I’ve burned myself. He just takes it all in. The only tell he gives me is when he looks back up and lets his guard down long enough to show the shock within the black depths of his normally blank eyes.

Shit.

“You,” he speaks through clenched teeth and points at me. “Come with me.” He doesn’t even look to see if I’m moving to follow him before he roughly pushes from the table and walks away.

“What the hell?” Izzy questions.

I spare Dee a quick slightly panicked look before making my way to where Maddox is waiting for me.

He pulls me around the wall that separates the room and the bathrooms, allowing us a bit of privacy for what I know is going to be a hard conversation.

“What’s going on, Mad?” I hedge.

“Don’t play games with me, Chelcie. I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. You don’t
know
me. Just let me get this out and then we can get back to dinner. Anything you need, anything you want, or anything you feel needs to be done, you let me know. I’m not going to pretend to be a chick and understand what you’re feeling, but you’re not alone. Yeah?”

For the first time since I met Maddox, every single trace of the hard man I’ve come to know is gone. Standing in front of me is a version of him that I’m not sure how to deal with. His face holds so much compassion and pain that I don’t know if he’s upset that I have kept this secret to myself or what. He almost looks vulnerable.

“Yeah, Maddox . . . Uh, thanks,” I whisper.

“Does he know?”

“No,” I can hear the shame painting that one heavy word. I’m not proud of myself for keeping this from Asher, and knowing that another person knows my secret and he still doesn’t drives home that pain.

“Are you okay?”

This side of Maddox, this caring, emotional side, is such a shock that I don’t speak at first. I’ve never, not once, seen this side. It’s no secret to anyone, even me though I’m new to this group, that Maddox holds his cards close and his pain even closer. There’s always been a cloud over him. Like his own personal hell just simmers too close to the surface for him to be anything but closed off. And knowing that he can see right through me is slightly terrifying and reassuring at the same time.

I’m not alone.

“Chelcie, how are you doing with this?” His eyes look . . . scared. Whether it’s for me, Asher, or whatever personal hell is chasing him, I’m not sure.

“I’m getting there, Mad. I’m worried, but not for me. I’m ready for this, excited even. It isn’t the way I imagined it happening, but I really am happy. I just . . . Well, you know, I don’t know how
he
will handle this. I’m not a slut.”

I’m not sure why I felt the need to throw that in there, but to me, it’s important that he doesn’t think I’m easy. I don’t just sleep around, and even though what happened between Coop and me could arguably make me a slut in a lot of people’s eyes, I don’t regret a second of it.

“I didn’t think you were, girl,” he says, his eyes losing that lost look, and he reaches out to pull me into a hug.

I let my arms curl around his back and hold on tight to his shoulders, soaking up every ounce of strength he’s offering.

The muscles in his back ripple and roll under my fingertips when he brings his head down and rests his lips against my temple. We stand like that for a few minutes before he dips his head lower and whispers against my ear.

“You’re never alone. Don’t for one second think that. You shouldn’t be worried, scared, or afraid right now. This is a time in your life that you should be smiling that beautiful smile every second of every day. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not alone. This baby will be loved, I promise you that. Asher needs to know, Chelcie. He
needs
that. And if
you
need someone there when that happens, you just say the words.” He pulls up, places another kiss on the top of my head, and with a small squeeze, walks away.

I stand there with tears in my eyes just begging to spill over, and I smile—a genuine smile—for the first time in weeks. I think I’ve always known that I wasn’t exactly alone, but to have someone I hardly know strip me bare emotionally and address every worry I’ve had since my baby’s father was murdered brings a kind of peace that I didn’t know I needed. A safety that I didn’t know I was lacking until this moment.

Deciding that I need a moment to collect myself before returning to the group, I quickly make my way into the bathroom to clean my face up—completely oblivious to the furious eyes that just watched that whole scene unravel.

CHAPTER 8

Asher

I can’t even explain the fury that is racing through my veins right now. After dealing with Pammy, my mood was already deteriorating. But after seeing Maddox with his arms wrapped tightly around Chelcie’s luscious body and his lips against her creamy skin, what little control I had left snapped.

She’s mine.

She doesn’t know that yet, but I’m not going to sit back and let Maddox have her.

The small, rational part of my mind that isn’t clouded in a red-hot rage right now is trying to remind me that I have no claim over Chelcie. Not only that, but everyone knows that Maddox only has eyes for Emmy. I should recognize that there is not one thread of a reason for me to be this jealous, but I’m already too far gone to listen to that nonsense.

The only thing that matters is what I just witnessed.
MY
woman in the arms of Maddox Locke.
MY
woman holding him back just as tight. And
MY
woman with a smile on her beautiful face that could light up even the darkest caves in Hell.

Hell. No.

With a single-minded determination, I set off towards the women’s bathroom I just saw her duck into. It’s time to let her know exactly where my head is at, and I’m sick of this avoiding game she’s been playing lately.

“You.” I point to the waitress who just came out of the bathroom that holds my woman inside. “Is there anyone else other than the blonde woman wearing jeans and a white shirt in there?”

She shakes her head slowly, her jaw slack and her eyes wide.

“Does that door lock?”

She again just nods her head.

“Good girl. You didn’t see me, got it?” I pull a fifty from my wallet and hand it to her.

She hesitantly wraps her fingers around the bill before hurrying down the hall. Who knows if she will keep her mouth shut. All that I heard and care about is that Chelcie is in there. Alone. And I’m about to make it perfectly clear that she is fucking mine.

The overwhelming stench of cheap perfume and fried foods is the first thing I smell when I walk through the bathroom door. It’s like being slapped in the face with it. Why don’t chicks understand that they don’t need to bathe in that crap? We don’t want them because they smell like the makeup part of the malls. You know, the part of the store you avoid because you feel like if you
don’t
stop and smell that stupid white card they might start running after you. Less is more. One of the things I crave the most about Chelcie is the subtle, sexy smell she has. I can’t even explain it. I can even smell it in here—just barely, but enough that my cock is straining to find her like some damn beacon.

Like fresh berries and the mouthwatering undertones of crème brûlée.

Goddamn. I can feel myself growing even harder. Visions of her underneath me as I slowly drive her body over the edge, smelling
her
on top of that lotion she is always rubbing into her skin . . .
Fuck.
I have to physically stop myself from storming up to her and taking her against the wall.

There she is.

She hasn’t seen me yet. She’s standing at the sinks, dabbing a wet paper towel against her face. I can tell that she’s been crying. Her eyes are slightly swollen and red. Her nose and cheeks have a blush to them that, if she wasn’t cleaning up the evidence of being upset, would cause the desire racing through my veins to hit a raging boil.

I watch in fascination as she lowers the paper towel, looks at herself for a few beats in the mirror, and smiles. This isn’t like the smile she had in the hallway. No, this is a smile I’ve been on the receiving end of before. The kind that makes me feel like the sun is shining on every inch of the darkness I’ve been trapped within. It is impossible not to feel touched when she turns that smile on you.

I find my own lips tipping up slightly. What can I say? It’s infectious.

She takes a deep breath, holds her hands to her stomach, and closes her eyes. I watch as her lips move slightly as if she is speaking before she smiles again.

Reaching down, I adjust myself quickly before she has a chance to notice that I’m here. Once I’ve curled my arm behind my back, I silently turn the latch and lock us both inside.

“Chelcie.”

Her eyes snap open and a look a horror and panic flashes over her features before she quickly hides it. A feeling of frustration washes over me that she is once again closing herself off to me. I have not one damn clue as to why she’s been acting like this lately. At first, she would walk on eggshells around me, but then again, everyone else did as well. Then, as we got to know each other better during the weeks she spent helping me research Dominic, I felt like she had finally let those damn walls down.