Corps Security: The Series (63 page)

Debi Barnes . . . Shauna misses Gina. I love you my minion lover!

Amber Vaughn . . . I love you. Seriously. Lady boner in full salute to your awesomeness.

Elle Wilson . . . girl, you know exactly what I need to say and how to say it. From now on if I doubt myself I know who to call!

Angela Lane . . . best brainstorming partner ever! You find the holes and help me fix them! <3

Becky Schmidt . . . I love you, your megaphone and your love for me. LOL! Cheers to having me rolling in laughter with all the comments we had rocking!

Katie, Kelly, and Angela. The girls that keep me going, keep me entertained, and make sure I haven’t locked myself in a dark room. You girls have been by my side since Corps Security was just a thought. I would, without a doubt, be lost without y’all!

Brenda, I have been so lucky to have you in my life during this journey. Your messages and texts never fail to bring a smile to my face. For taking the formatting nightmare off my hands, and being the best damn pimp I ever did meet!

Chelcie! I love you. You know this, but just in case you forgot . . . you are one sexy bitch!

JB, thank you for making two of the most beautiful covers, and for putting up with my crazy!

Melissa Gill-I love you! Like really. My Swag Slinger. My graphic queen. I am so glad that we have become great friends!

To my street team AND my babes! Believing in me, my boys and pimping me hard! BEST LADIES EVER!

Each and every reader, reviewer, blogger, fan. This wouldn’t be anything without you. I wouldn’t be living my dreams without the support that you have given me. Your messages, comments and reviews make this worth it. I love you all.

To the dentist and hygienist and ladies over at Vassey Dental. (A big shout out to Dr. Harrah and Dr. Naik. Michele and Phyllis.) Without your torture **kidding** I doubt I would have these books done right now. No one likes going to the dentist, but I love going to mine!

BECK PLAYLIST

Sam Grow- Shot of Crown

Sam Grow- Fall to Me

Miguel- Adorn

Creed- With Arms Wide Open

The Lumineers- Stubborn Love

Bonnie Raitt- I Can’t Make You Love Me

Justin Timberlake- Drink You Away

The CO- Keep it Together

John Newman- Love Me Again

Avicii- Addicted to You

Halestorm- Beautiful With You

Jason Mraz- I Won’t Give Up

Papa Roach- Last Resort

Johnny Cash- Hurt

Seether- Broken

A Great Big World- Say Something

Ciara- Love Sex Magic

System of a Down- Toxicity

Saving Abel- Addicted

Little Mix- Cannonball

Bruno Mars- Gorilla

To Danielle Calcote.

For keeping me sane and laughing at my insane! Even if your taste in sweaters is questionable . . . I still consider myself blessed to have you as a friend, beta, and right-hand!

PROLOGUE

“Denise, you need to stop this nonsense. A girl your age needs to show some maturity and stop being so needy. You are perfectly capable of keeping yourself occupied. This is a big night for your father; you could try and be a little supportive.” She turns her perfectly painted face back to the mirror, applying more of her make-up. I have always wondered how she is able to get all that make-up on when her face never really moves. Her weekly appointments at the spa take care of the wrinkles that I’ve never been able to find.

“But Mother, tonight’s my chorus recital at school,” I whisper meekly. Even at thirteen, I know I should stand up for myself, but I just can’t seem to do that with my mother, the ice queen. “How am I supposed to get there?”

Before I can react, her hand cracks against my cheek. “Don’t be such an ungrateful brat, Denise. Some children can only dream of living the life we have given you. I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight. Go on up to your room.”

Blinking back the wetness that rushes to my eyes, I back up slowly, keeping my eyes trained on my mother. I don’t realize I have been holding my breath until I bump into the hard, unforgiving body standing behind me.

“What have you done now, Denise?” My father’s deep baritone rumbles through the room. A cold ribbon of fear snakes down my back. I brace myself for his anger as I turn to face him.

“I’m sorry, Father. I just wanted to ask Mother about my chorus recital. I’m supposed to be at the school in an hour.” I don’t dare break eye contact with my father. No one would dare. He demands your full attention and respect. I will give him my attention, but before I started middle school, I learned he didn’t deserve my respect.

“You stupid little girl. I’ve told you, extracurricular activities should be things that can further your career. Things like
chorus
aren’t going to take you on the path to greatness. First thing Monday, I want you to speak with your teachers about dropping that.”

My insides seize, because I knew better than to even mention the recital, and I still did it. I should just fake a sickness Monday at school. For the last year, I’ve been successful in keeping my ‘fun time’ hidden from my parents. They don’t care what I am doing. They don’t want me, so they’ve never even noticed.

“Am I understood, Denise?” His tone has a sharper edge to it, and I know this is not a point to drag my feet on.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply. “May I be excused?” I just want to get away. Away from their room, them, and this life that they say I should be grateful to have. Who would be grateful for this? Two parents that don’t want you. All the money in the world, but no happiness? I would rather be living in the slums.

Walking as quickly as possible, I make fast work of the maze of hallways and enter my room. Only when the door closes do I let out my breath and allow my body to relax. Ever since I’ve been old enough to know the difference, I’ve known that my parents don’t like me. No, they don’t just ‘not like’ me . . . They hate me. I am the accident that should have been terminated, or so they remind me often enough. I don’t even think my mother cares either way. She just wants the life my father has given her, regardless of the fact that even her own daughter knows he is sleeping with the hired help.

And my father? My father is the reason that I know you can never trust a boy. Never allow one into your heart. They only care about one thing and one thing only. Themselves. Every man in my life has let me down. My grandfather died before he was successful in taking me away from my parents. My father is as evil as they come. And just today, my boyfriend, Toby, said he wanted to go out with Malinda ‘I have bigger boobs than my eighteen-year-old sister’ Monroe.

There will never be a boy in the world that can make me forget that the only person I can count on is me. I can’t wait to get away from this place. The day I turn eighteen, I am running as fast as I can. I’ve made sure that I get good grades, and will have my pick of schools to choose from. Because the first day I leave this hell, I am going to be a new person. I am going to be happy. I am going to be loved. And, I am going to find people to share my life with that want to be around me.

But I will never, ever, trust a boy.

PART ONE

Meetings

&

Beginnings

CHAPTER 1

Dee

There has never been a moment in my life when I’ve felt well and truly loved. Accepted and wanted. My parents hadn’t wanted me. I’m the accident that should have been ‘taken care of,’ the disgraceful child whose silence they bought. After all, when you have as much money as my father, why should you actually show emotion or feelings?

My father, Davison Bennett Roberts, III, is a third generation banker. His father’s father opened up the local branch, and the rest was, as they say, history. I don’t remember my father ever really ‘liking’ me. Hell, I don’t even really remember him liking my mother, either. He worked and worked, and when he finished he worked some more. When he wasn’t at the bank, he was in his office at home. And when he wasn’t consumed with whatever it was that he did, he was off screwing the hot little secretary, or teller, or college co-ed slut.

Always absent from my life.

Always reminding me, sometimes without his words, how un-important I was.

He was the first strike against mankind, in my eyes.

All the resentment that I held towards men, and my reluctance to start a relationship now, could all be traced back to the man who called himself my father.

The worst part, though . . . with all his busyness, and lack of care, he still made time to bring the wrath of Davison Roberts, III down on me at every opportunity. My 4.0 grade point average was never going to be good enough to please him. The extracurricular educational clubs that I was allowed to join were never going to help me amount to anything. Plain and simple,
I
was just never going to be enough.

He didn’t want me, but he still wanted to sling his holier than thou attitude and self-righteousness my way. I’m not sure, even to this day, what he was attempting to teach me. He made it clear from early on that he would never allow a woman to run his company, so I was convinced he just liked to beat me down.

Literally.

He didn’t take his hands to me often, but when he did, it wasn’t pretty. And that was strike two against mankind.

Growing up, I didn’t have many people that I would consider real friends. I had plenty of playmates who were the children of my father’s associates. Those were the sort of children that my parents had allowed me to befriend. Those friends didn’t want me because of me, but because of who my father was and how much money he had. You know, the kind of kids that walked around in their designer clothing, their backs so straight you knew that they had to have a rod shoved so far up their assholes that there was no way that they would be anything but fake.

As I got older, I was once again reminded that people only saw what they could gain by being around me to get closer to my father. Boys never wanted to date ‘me’; they wanted to date my family’s money and connections. The closer I got to graduating high school, the more painfully obvious it became that the boys I dated would never really like me. They were only there to hopefully gain something towards their future careers by being with me.

The only people that mattered to them were . . . themselves.

And there you have strike three.

I could only trust myself. I made a promise to myself that when I was old enough, I was going to get out of here and finally, be me. No one was going to tell me whom I could have as friends. Men wouldn’t know who my father was so they would love me as me, and not as the daughter of Davison Bennett Roberts III. I would find people who loved me . . . for me.

And I was never going to need a man.

I am Denise Ann Roberts. Strong, proud, and independent. A loyal friend, godmother, and I radiate fucking happiness so that people will never see how lonely I really am.

Funny thing about these masks that people put on. I look like the happiest woman in the world. I look like I have everything that I want out of life. That everything is perfect. And that is exactly what I want people to see. But, inside? Inside, I’m dying. I’m not happy. I have amazing friends, and I know that they love me, but I am completely alone. Just like I have been my whole life, and the best part, the big kicker in my ass . . . I only have myself to blame.

Why? Because I have pushed the one man that I love away from me, and I keep pushing, even when he keeps coming back for more. I’ve found the one man out of millions that might be able to prove me wrong. That might be able to love me back unconditionally and never change.

And every single day that I have to pretend to be okay, to be happy, it’s slowly killing me.

Three Years Earlier

Two long years and finally, finally, Izzy is living. Her beautiful smile is plastered all over her face, and that twinkle is back in her eyes. Nothing but worry has consumed me since that day she called me to come get her from Brandon. To come save her.

I had slowly watched her leave me. No, not in the sense that she wasn’t my friend, but she was stolen from me. I watched her become the me that I used to be. A shell of my former self, afraid to move because of the people that tugged the strings to my life.

The last couple of days haven’t been pretty. Between that bastard ex-husband sending Izzy a twisted package, and her almost shutting down, I’ve been so worried that she would revert back into the depression that she has been slowly waking up from.

When she opened that package and I saw the panic and fear take over, I didn’t know what to do or how to help. The first thing I did was call Greg, the best ‘big brother’ that a girl could ever dream for. He’s been right there with me, every step of the way, making sure that Izzy’s okay and that we’re both safe. Whatever Greg did earlier seems to be the wakeup call that she needed. Or maybe it’s just the reminder he gave her that she wasn’t allowed to check out.

Whatever the reason, here we are at Club Carnal, celebrating my best friend’s thirtieth birthday and the anniversary of what is arguably the worst date in her life.