ROME
Jay Crownover

Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper 2014

Copyright © Jennifer M Voorhees 2014

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014

Cover photograph © Noll Images/Plainpicture

Jennifer M Voorhees asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007536337

Ebook Edition © January 2014 ISBN: 9780007536320

Version: 2014-06-30

Dedicated to all the men and women who are serving or have served our country in any branch of the armed forces. Thank you for your service. Also to the families, friends, and loved ones who love and support their service members while they are near, far, and everywhere in between.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter 1: Cora, the Fourth of July

Chapter 2: Rome

Chapter 3: Cora

Chapter 4: Rome

Chapter 5: Cora

Chapter 6: Rome

Chapter 7: Cora

Chapter 8: Rome

Chapter 9: Cora

Chapter 10: Rome

Chapter 11: Cora

Chapter 12: Rome

Chapter 13: Cora

Chapter 14: Rome

Chapter 15: Cora

Chapter 16: Rome

Chapter 17: Cora

Chapter 18: Rome

Chapter 19: Cora

Epilogue: Thanksgiving

Rome’s Playlist

Cora’s Playlist

Acknowledgments

Keep reading for more from Jay Crownover

About the Author

Also by Author

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION

First of all, I want to say that I have nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women of our armed forces. I think it is admirable to choose to serve for the good of others. It’s selfless, heroic, and all-around commendable.

I live near Fort Carson, in a town that is full of men and women on active duty. My grandfather was in the army, which led to my mom being taken all over the world when she was young. My cousin served overseas in the army and he is a delightful, truly wonderful young man who did not come back entirely unaffected by his experience. My most recent job was at a bar located near a university here in town that served as the unofficial hangout of a group of ex-soldiers who were all back in school on the GI Bill, building their postservice life. I’ve heard the stories, good and bad. Seen the highs and lows that getting out of the service can bring. That being said, Rome is in no way meant to be a portrait, in a generalized or documentary way, of the kinds of lives these military people lead.

Rome is a man on a journey, just like we all are, and he’s only trying to do the best he can. Any liberties I have taken with the truth are my own doing and only designed to develop his character and tell his tale.

Thank you all and happy reading!!!

Jay

CHAPTER 1 Cora, the Fourth of July

It’s my favorite thing ever to have all the people I love in one place at the same time. Pair that with a day off from work, cold beer, barbecue, and fireworks, and I couldn’t be a happier camper.

And I would have been ecstatic, if only a dark, looming, man-shaped cloud wasn’t bound and determined to rain all over my parade.

It was a long holiday weekend and everyone from the tattoo shop I worked at, plus the other boys, Jet and Asa, as well as the girls, was gathered in the backyard of Rule and Shaw’s brand-new house for a barbecue and a housewarming. Everyone had a beer in hand; Rule and Jet were manning the grill, looking slightly ridiculous while doing it. It was supposed to be fun and relaxing, only someone had missed the memo.

I was rolling my sweating beer can between my hands and trying really hard to keep my mouth shut because in a few short minutes I’d determined that Rome Archer had to be the least fun person I’d ever met. Sure, the guy had just gotten home from a war zone and was dealing with some pretty serious family drama, but that didn’t excuse the fact that he seemed bound and determined to infect the rest of the festivities with his vile mood.

Ever since he had walked in the back gate, he had been alternately scowling and sniping at anyone who got within spewing distance of that unchecked fury. He had on mirrored aviators, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could practically feel the disdain and dissatisfaction pouring off of his massive body. I had never met anyone who I could actually describe as “hulking” before Rome started hanging around, and like the green monster, his temper seemed to be something everyone else feared. I was getting sick and tired of watching my friends tiptoe around him and try to placate him.

Hell, he should be jumping for joy that his horn dog of a sibling had settled down and was making a real commitment to someone, that Rule had found his perfect match and was a better man for it. But no, all Captain No-Fun could do was sneer and grunt at anyone trying to make conversation.

No, I was pretty sure I was not a particular fan of Rome Archer in any way, shape, or form, be he a war hero and beloved older sibling, supposed nice guy, or not. I personally thought the man was going out of his way to be an ass hat and make everyone else as miserable as he seemed to be.

The boys who grew up with him and even my girlfriend Shaw kept repeating the litany that the ex-soldier really was a great guy and that he was just struggling since coming home. I wasn’t sure I believed it because nothing I had seen thus far indicated he was anything but a grumpy, slightly unhinged bully. Which was a shame because the guy was gorgeous, like it-hurt-to-look-at-him gorgeous. All the Archers had some kick-ass genetics, but where Rule, my coworker and best friend, was gifted with all kinds of troubled, bad-boy swagger, Rome was straight-up masculine perfection.

He was tall, way taller than the other guys, which was saying something since none of the crew was exactly petite, and he was big. He was broad and strong and strapped with muscles that looked like they had been used for survival not just show. He had short, dark hair cropped close to his head, and over the reflective lenses of the sunglasses there was no missing a jagged white scar that hooked through his eyebrow and down next to his eye. His face had a vivid intensity about it that just made him stupidly hot, even without the body that was bound to make the opposite sex dumb. I bet if he ever bothered to smile, panties across the nation would melt.

I looked up as one of my other coworkers, Nash Donovan, popped up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. Nash was Rule’s best friend and currently living with the mountain of doom and gloom I was sitting next to on the lawn. The camp chair he was sprawled in looked like it was going to snap under his considerable bulk at any minute. I couldn’t imagine a guy as mellow and laid-back as Nash living with someone so dour and grumpy, but considering he and Rule pretty much hero-worshiped the guy, I figured it would behoove me to just stay out of it for as long as I could.

“How goes it, Tink?”

It was a simple question, but there was a lot behind it. I recently found out my first love, the guy who was responsible for shattering my young heart into a million irreparable pieces, was getting married at the end of the summer. I was having a hard time with it and all the guys from the shop were worried about me, because I was typically unflappable.

“Oh, you know, still looking for Mr. Perfect.”

That was my default answer. In order to prevent the same mistake, to prevent myself from giving my heart away so carelessly, I was bound and determined to wait for a guy who was all in with me. I wasn’t settling for anything less than perfection, even if I had to wait forever to find it. The idea of compromising and ending up as lost and broken as I was when things with Jimmy didn’t work out was too terrifying to consider.

“Tink?” Rome’s voice was gruff and as rough as the look on his handsome face.

Nash snickered and moved to take a seat on the other side of the older Archer.

“Tinker Bell. She looks like a punk-rock version of Tinker Bell.”

A dark eyebrow lifted behind the sunglasses, and I smiled sweetly at him. I do look kind of like a cartoon fairy. I’m short, have spiky blond hair that kind of ends up all over the place, and my eyes are two different colors. I also have a riotous sleeve of flowers and filigree tattooed from the top of my shoulder to my wrist on my left arm. It’s brilliant and bright. I love the vibrant ink and often changed the stud in my eyebrow ring to match the different colors. The nickname suited me, and I didn’t hate it when the boys used it because it showed me they loved me as much as I loved them.

Rome whipped his sunglasses off and rubbed his hands over his eyes. When he was done I could see that not only were his eyes the most beautiful, clear blue that I had ever seen, but they were also rimmed in dark circles and bloodshot with lightning bolts of red. He was most definitely a babe, but he looked like shit.

“I shouldn’t have come. This is all so wrong. Everyone pretending like Rule and Shaw playing house is something to be excited about. It’s all just going to blow up, they are going to end up destroying each other, and I’m going to have to be the one to clean up the mess.”

At first I thought I heard him wrong, but I saw Nash wince and Rowdy, one of my other boys from the shop, tense up. So far he seemed to be the only other person at this ramshackle gathering who hadn’t been initiated into the Rome Archer fan club. That was a good thing because Rowdy was probably the only guy in the group who could give the soldier a run for his money physically, should he decide to be a handful.

“Dude, chill out. Be happy for Rule and Shaw. That’s your family.” Nash was always the most practical of the bunch, but I could hear the underlying tension in his voice.

I flicked the tab on the top of my beer and narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t about to let this guy rain on my friends’ day, even if he seemed determined to. Those eyes that really were too pretty to be in such a sour-looking face narrowed at Nash, and I could literally feel the heat of uncoiling anger rolling off those wide shoulders. So far I had been quiet, I had watched and judged. I had sipped my beer quietly and let everyone else try and get this guy to loosen up. I was here for fun, to enjoy having all my friends in one place, to celebrate the cohabitation of two people I adored and the recent wedded bliss of two more people I loved and considered my own. My group of friends was quickly pairing off and to me that was worth throwing a party for. I knew how hard it was to find a perfect match, and I loved that people I cared so much about were doing exactly that. Captain No-Fun better get with the program real fast or it was going to get ugly.

“None of this is good for anybody. I don’t know what I’m doing here. This is all such a joke. None of you know what you’re doing or what the real world is like.”

I saw Nash blink in surprise. I saw Rowdy climb to his feet and I knew instinctively it wasn’t Rome he was going to go after.

I narrowed my eyes just as those baby blues swung my way. Maybe he thought I was safe because I probably only came up to his breastbone. Maybe he thought I was sweet because I had on a bright pink halter top and short, white shorts and looked like I was unassuming and nonthreatening. Maybe he thought I was meek because I hadn’t bothered to say anything to him since he’d thundered in and proceeded to ruin my lovely holiday. I lifted the eyebrow that had the pink crystal in it and met him glare for glare.

Whatever he thought or was thinking, I’m sure I proved him wrong as I calmly got to my feet, leaned over in his direction, and upended the last of the beer that was in the can I had practically crushed in my fist over his head. The beer slid down his shocked face in slow motion as I got so close our noses were practically touching.

“You are such an asshole!” I knew the volume of my voice carried all the way across the yard, and I could hear feet running in our direction. Those electric eyes blinked at me and I could have sworn I saw something break through the thundercloud lurking in there. I was about to launch into a lecture on manners and respect and being a jerk for no apparent reason, but a heavy arm locked around my waist and hauled me back against a hard chest.

The big guy climbed to his feet, but before he could make any move in my direction, Rowdy stepped between him and where Nash was hauling me bodily toward the deck and away from the soggy, frowning giant.

I pointed a finger in his direction and watched as he flicked boozy moisture out of his eyes. “We don’t need all that negative, Captain No-Fun. Why don’t you go spread your gloom and doom somewhere else? Hell, you can take that crap back to the desert, for all I care; we were all getting along just fine without you. Just because you can’t find anything to be happy about doesn’t mean you need to crap all over what everyone else is trying to do here today.”

I let out a huff when Nash gave me a none too gentle squeeze that was a warning to pipe down, so I returned the favor by jabbing an elbow into his ribs. He grunted and deposited me on the deck in the spot Shaw had just vacated. We all watched silently as Rule got up in his brother’s face. I wanted to holler at Shaw to stay out of it, but if Rule went loco, she was the only one who was going to be able to put that fire out. I felt kind of bad for stirring the pot when I didn’t even really know the guy that well.

Loud male voices exchanged ugly words, and we all held a collective breath when Rule reached up and shoved Rome back a step, knocking over the lawn chair. Rowdy scooped up Shaw and moved her out of the way and I felt a twinge of guilt for starting such a scene when we were supposed to be at a celebration.

The brothers were fairly evenly matched in height, even if I knew Rule had his older brother dead to rights in the bad attitude department, but Rome was undeniably taller and built like a beast. If he really wanted to put a hurting on Rule, it was going to get unpleasant and the other guys were going to have to get involved. I bit my lip and tried to wiggle free from Nash’s iron grip but he just squeezed me tighter.

“You poked the bear, Tink, so you better hope someone can put him in a cage.”

I gasped and fought the urge to cover my eyes when Rome simply reached out and shoved Rule to the ground with a palm on the center of his chest. He lowered his voice and said something that none of us on the deck could hear, but I saw Shaw burst into tears and turn into Rowdy’s chest. I could have sworn those blue eyes sought out mine before he turned on the heel of his heavy black boot and stormed out of the backyard. The gate he exited through rattled on its hinges, and the roar of the motorcycle engine drowned out any other noise as Rule got to his feet and collected his crying girlfriend.

Nash gave me one last squeeze and finally let me go.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you, Cora?”

I crossed my arms defiantly over my chest and took a seat next to the only member of our little group who seemed unfazed by the drama. It probably didn’t hurt matters that he was in a full walking cast and still had a whole slew of broken ribs and bumps and bruises from his epic beat-down. Asa Cross was an enigma and had enough of his own drama that ours probably seemed silly and uninteresting to him.

“He’s an ass.”

Nash shook his head at me and his periwinkle eyes looked reproachful.

“No, he’s not. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but ever since he got back and got out of the army, he’s been acting weird. He’s a good guy. You know I wouldn’t defend someone that I didn’t truly believe that about.”

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s being terrible to Rule and Shaw, and I’m not going to just watch.”

“That’s a family matter. Rule can fight his own battles, and he isn’t going to let anything happen to Shaw. Just calm down, okay. We got this. Rome isn’t … whatever this is, all right?”

I sighed and took the slice of watermelon the golden-eyed heartthrob that I had inherited as a roommate within the last month handed me. I winked at Asa and waved Nash off.

“I love you guys. He needs to pick on someone his own size.”

My hair got ruffled as Nash made his way off of the deck to go check on his friend.

“Like you?”

“Is that a short joke?” I didn’t get an answer as he disappeared down the deck steps, but his deep laughter followed him. I made a face as Jet and Ayden, the two newlyweds I shared a house with along with Ayden’s wayward brother, caught my eye. They were snuggling and too cute to ignore.

“See … like I always said, you two are just perfect. That’s what I want.”

I knew I sounded wistful, but I couldn’t keep the longing for that kind of love, that type of connection, out of my voice. I thought I had had it once, and when I realized I didn’t, it nearly broke me.

“I keep telling you that your expectations are too high.” Jet tried to sound lighthearted about it, but he didn’t know about my broken engagement or the fact that my ex-fiancé was planning on getting married at the end of the summer.

“Love isn’t perfect. It’s hard work and sometimes it’s more effort to be in love than it is to just run away. If you keep looking for perfect, the real thing is going to pass right by you.”

I waved a hand at him because I knew he was speaking from a place of experience. His road to Ayden hadn’t been without a pit stop or two in Stupidville, but they made it and I could only hope for such a beautiful outcome. I took my seat back by Asa and I could swear he was mentally taking notes on all of us. Those gears behind his gold eyes always seemed to be turning.

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

I said it to Jet, but really I was reaffirming to myself that I would know it this time when it came along. I wouldn’t be fooled by a pretty face and promises of devotion. I wouldn’t end up anyone’s joke or castoff ever again. The fact that so many of my friends were stumbling headfirst into their happily-ever-after gave my tired heart hope that I couldn’t be far behind.

When the wedding invitation Jimmy had cruelly sent in the mail landed in my hands, it was a wake-up call. I had loved a guy who had cheated on me, lied to me, made me a laughingstock, with everything that I was. I wanted to spend my life with him, build a business with him, and have children with him. All of it. He, on the other hand, had wanted to have sex with his tattoo clients and lead me on for as long as possible. If I hadn’t had to go back to the shop one night because I forgot something and walked in on him with a girl who was barely out of her teens, there was a good chance I would be married to the rat bastard right now.

Still, to this day what hurt the most was that everyone knew. The people I thought were my friends, the coworkers I thought of as my family, they all knew and no one had said a word. They let me play the fool, let Jimmy put me at risk, use me and humiliate me without so much as a peep. It was awful. If my dad’s old buddy Phil hadn’t come to town to visit him when all of it was falling to pieces, I don’t know where I would be now. The guys at the shop had saved me.

“Ayd and Jet just snuck out through the side gate. Looks like you’re gonna have to get the gimp home.”

I looked at Asa and then at the gate, which was indeed swinging shut. I made an offhand comment about being newlyweds but didn’t get much further because Shaw plopped down next to me on the patio furniture and wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. The rest of the guys followed, carrying the now-burned remains of the barbecue Rule had been working on.

I reached out to pat my friend on the leg. Shaw was a beautiful girl. She had this ethereal, otherworldly beauty that took a minute to get used to. It made my heart twinge in sympathy to see her big green eyes look so sad. No one wanted to make Shaw cry, it was like kicking a fairy-tale princess when she was down.

The guys all gathered around the food and popped the tops for another round of beers. It looked like they were going with the time-honored, male way of dealing with things by ignoring the entire thing. Not that I could blame them. None of them seemed to want to call Rome out on his ridiculous behavior and I knew all of them well enough to know that stubborn didn’t even begin to cover how they acted when they made up their minds about something.

“You okay?”

Shaw blinked at me and gave me a lopsided grin. It was just her way to always want things to be okay for everyone.

“I’ll live. Part of me thinks they should just beat the crap out of each other to get whatever is going on between them out in the open. But I don’t think Rule would know when to back down and I think Rome could kill him if he lost control. I don’t know what happened to him this last tour, but that guy is not the guy I grew up with.”

I lifted my eyebrow and took the plate Rowdy handed me as he sat down across from me and put his feet up on the arm of my chair. I made a face at him, but he was forgiven when he tossed me a beer.

“You know, everyone keeps saying that, but I met big brother a few times before and he never struck me as a barrel of laughs. The guy has always been wound up pretty tight.”

Shaw took the plate Rule handed her and scooted over on the bench seat to make room for him next to her. They were an odd pair at first glance but the love they shared was a tangible thing and I tried really hard not to be jealous about it.

“It has to do with more than Remy.” Rule’s deep voice was gruff and I could tell he was stewing over the latest run-in with his brother.

I cracked open the beer and offered my own two cents. “Who cares what it has to do with? He’s a jerk face for no reason. Screw him.”

Rowdy shook his head at me and Shaw and Rule both rolled their eyes. As usual, it was up to Nash to be the voice of reason.

“We don’t just write off people that we care about, Cora. You know this.”

I did. This group was fiercely loyal and honest to a fault, which is why I loved them like I did. I just hated to see one person causing so much strife with so many different, wonderful people.

“I gotta say I’m glad he doesn’t have your temper, Rule. I think one solid hit with those mitts of his and I would’ve ended up like Asa over there.” Rowdy indicated the southern playboy with a tilt of his beer.

Asa had taken a beating so bad that he had been in a coma for several weeks. It was a miracle he had come out of it as unscathed as he had.

Rule grunted and put his free arm around Shaw as she leaned into his side. They really were too cute for words. I had to bite back an envious sigh. Rule glanced at the gate Rome had just stormed out of and stated, “He’s never been much of a brawler. I mean, when we were younger he would wade in when Nash and I started shit, but he was never the type to start anything himself. That’s why I don’t get what is going on with him lately. I’m about sick of it, though.”

Nash snorted a laugh and pointed at me with the end of his fork. “To be fair, Tink kind of started it today. Was dousing him in beer really necessary?”

I tried to look innocent. It wasn’t really a look I could pull off very well, so I gave a helpless grin.

“I could’ve punched him in the nose, but there wasn’t a stepladder anywhere handy.”

That got a round of laughs from everyone, because I really was tiny compared to the older Archer and laughter worked wonders at lifting the black mood he had brought. We finished eating and had a few more drinks; at least they did. I had to drive Asa back to the house and there was no way I was going to risk a DUI on such a checkpoint-happy holiday. The guys waited until it was dark and wandered off into the yard to light fireworks, because really they were all just big kids covered in ink.

I found myself alone with Shaw on the deck once again and noticed that despite the lingering sadness on her pretty face, her happiness practically emanated from her. I put an arm around her shoulders and rested my head against hers. I was older than Shaw. The poor girl had been through the wringer in the last few years, so I knew she deserved every single bit of happiness she was feeling at this moment.

“You did good, kiddo. You got the guy, the house is amazing, and all of this is good stuff. Don’t worry about anything else. You and Rule live in this moment and forget about the rest.”

I felt her laugh and she reached up to squeeze the hand I had thrown over her shoulder. The sky lit up with a bunch of different colors and male laughter floated up from the yard.

“Sometimes I feel selfish. I got everything I ever wanted and it isn’t always perfect but the good days always outnumber the bad. I feel like I’m not allowed to ask for more.” She sighed so heavy I could feel it. “Now Rome thinks it’s all a joke and that hurts, I don’t know why he’s so mad. I’ve loved Rome like a brother as long as I can remember, so it hurts in more ways than one.”

“It’ll work itself out, you’ll see.” And I would be happy to help it along if I had to.

She was quiet for a really long time and we just watched the mini-explosions and smiled at the boys, who were clearly having a blast. Maybe one of us should have mentioned that drinking and fireworks weren’t a great idea, but Captain No-Fun was gone and I wasn’t going to be the good-time police.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re the smartest person I know, Cora?” Shaw’s voice was quiet but I took it as a compliment considering the girl was well on her way to becoming a doctor.

“I just call it like I see it.”

I did. I was from the East Coast, downtown Brooklyn to be exact, and I was the only child of a career sailor who had no clue what to do with his rebellious daughter. I loved my dad, he was my only blood relative, and I knew that he loved me in return. But we didn’t connect, and as a result, I learned from a young age to speak plainly and not pull any punches. It was the only way the two of us could communicate. So if someone needed to get to Rome Archer and tell him to get his fool head out of his ass, I was more than willing to be the person to do it. I didn’t idolize him, I wasn’t scared of him, and whether he was a giant or not, I wasn’t going to stand by and let him continue to cause so much grief for the people I cared so much about.

CHAPTER 2 Rome

I couldn’t believe that crazy little sprite had the nerve to dump beer on my head. First of all, she barely came up to my shoulder, and second of all, she looked like a walking, talking piece of candy. Everything about her was so colorful it almost hurt to look at her.

I should be furious at her, but she was right, I was an asshole. There was no reason to talk shit to Nash, no reason to get into it with Rule. I was just looking for a target to vent my frustrations at and those were the people closest to me. Maybe it was easier to unleash my aggravation at them, because I knew instinctively they would forgive me. I needed to find a place to have a drink and try and get my head together. A place that was dark and quiet and where no one expected me to be anything, or act a certain way. I was tired of not meeting expectations. I was not an idle man by nature. I was used to action, used to being in charge and taking the lead, and the only things I had managed to be on top of since coming back to Denver was pissing off everyone I encountered and drinking my considerable body weight in vodka. I was on a downhill slide that was bound to have an ugly-as-hell impact at the bottom and I knew it, but I felt powerless to stop it. Today was the proof of that.

I pulled into the first bar that looked like it could handle the mood I was in. Independence Day, my left nut. I had had about enough of the revelry and good cheer to last me a lifetime. I just wanted to bury my head in the sand and go back to a point in time that felt comfortable and familiar. I hated feeling like a visitor in my own life, and no matter what I told myself when I woke up in the morning each day, I couldn’t shake feeling like everything I had come back to after my contract with the army was up was a life that belonged to someone else. My family didn’t feel right. The new dynamic in my relationship with Rule didn’t feel right. Trying to get used to Shaw being taken care of by my wayward and reckless little brother didn’t feel right. Crashing with Nash while I tried to get my shit straight didn’t feel right. Not having a job lined up or any clear direction of how to support myself doing something other than fighting a war quite possibly felt the most wrong out of it all.

The bar was dark and not a place for those out for a fun Fourth-of-July cocktail. In the back, around several well-used pool tables, was a bunch of guys in biker gear sporting colors and looking like they meant business. Toward the front were several older men who looked like they never even got off the bar stool to go home and shower. Neil Young was blasting on the house speakers even though no one seemed like the type to sing along. This was not a place for the hip and trendy urbanites that flocked to Capitol Hill when the weather finally warmed up. I took a spot on an empty seat at the bar top and waited for the guy manning the bar to wander down to me.

He was almost my size, which was rare, only he had a solid thirty years on me. He had a beard that looked like it could be the home to a whole family of squirrels, eyes the color of charcoal, and the grim countenance that could only be found in men who had seen the worst the world had to offer and come out the other side. I wasn’t surprised at all to see a marine tattoo inked on his bulky forearm when he propped himself up across from me and put down a battered coaster in front of me. I saw him size me up, but I was used to it. I was a big guy and other big guys liked to figure out if I was going to be the kind of trouble they could handle or not.

“Boy, you already smell like a brewery. You sure you need to have another one?”

I frowned until I remembered the little blonde pouring her beer over my head. She could have found a better way to make her point, I thought as I remembered the soggy state of my T-shirt. I didn’t know what to make of Cora Lewis. She was around a lot. We never really talked much. She was too loud and tended toward the dramatic, hence the Coors Light shower I had just received. Being around her made my head hurt and I didn’t like the way her mismatched eyes seemed to try and pick me apart.

I took my sunglasses off the top of my head and hooked them in the collar of my T-shirt.

“I picked a fight with the wrong pixie and she poured her drink on my head. I’m straight.”

The guy gave me a once-over and must have deemed me okay because without my asking a tankard of beer was set in front of me along with a shot of something amber and strong. Typically I was a vodka drinker, but when the burly brute poured himself one and wandered back over to where I was seated, I didn’t dare complain.

He lifted a bushy eyebrow at me and touched the rim of his shot glass to my own.

“You army?”

I nodded and shot back the liquor. It burned hot all the way down. If I wasn’t mistaken it was Wild Turkey.

“I was. Just got out.”

“How long did you serve for?”

I rubbed a hand over my still-short hair. After wearing it cropped close to my head for so long, I really didn’t know what else to do with it.

“Went in at eighteen and I turn twenty-eight at the end of this year. I was in for almost a decade.”

“What did you do?”

It wasn’t a question I normally answered because frankly the answer was long and anyone that hadn’t served just wouldn’t get it.

“I was a field operations leader.”

The bear of a man across from me let out a low whistle. “Spec ops?”

I grunted a response and picked up the beer.

“I bet they were sad to see you go.”

The thing was, I think I was sadder to see them go. I wasn’t cleared for active duty anymore. My shoulder had taken a beating when we rolled over an IED on my last deployment and there were all kinds of shit rattling around in my head, constantly taking me out of the game. Sure, I could have taken a desk job, stepped down, and trained the generation coming up after me. But I wasn’t the best teacher and being tied to a desk was the same thing as retirement to me anyway. So I got out and now I had no fucking clue what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

“What about you?” I motioned to the tattoo on his arm. “How long did you put in?”

“Too long, son. Way too long. What brings you in here today? You aren’t one of my regulars.”

I cast a look around the bar and shrugged. For now this place was a perfect fit for my mood.

“Just out having a drink to celebrate America like a good patriot.”

“Just like the rest of us.”

“Yep.” I had to fight the urge to chug the beer down and order him to keep them coming.

“I’m Brite and this is my bar. I ended up with it when I got out and started spending more time in the bar than I did at home. I’ve been through three wives and one triple bypass, but the bar stays true.”

I lifted the eyebrow that had the scar above it and felt the corner of my mouth kick up in a grin.

“Brite?” The guy looked like Paul Bunyan or a Hells Angel; the name didn’t really fit.

A smile found its way through that massive beard and pearly-white teeth that were the only bright spot in the dim bar.

“Brighton Walker, Brite for short.” He extended a hand that I shook on reflex.

“Rome Archer.”

He dropped his head in a little nod and moved down the bar to help another customer.

“That’s a good name for a warrior.”

I closed my eyes briefly and tried to remember what it was like to feel like a warrior. It seemed like it was a million miles away from this bar stool. The music switched to AC/DC and I decided this was my new favorite place to hang out.

I was on my Harley, so I should probably cool it with the booze. A DUI would just be the icing on the crap cake I was currently being served on a daily basis, but as the beer mixed with the potent bourbon from earlier, none of that seemed to really matter anymore.

At some point I did another shot with Brite and the bar stool next to me was abandoned by the grizzled old man that had been complaining about his wife and his girlfriend for the last hour and quickly occupied by a redhead with too much makeup on and too little clothes. Had I been three less beers in, I would’ve seen her for the trouble she was. As it was, Brite told her to scram, advice she promptly ignored. She was cute, in that I’m a good time take me home kind of way, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had randomly picked anyone up from a bar. When I was overseas there had been a female intelligence officer who’d been down to be friends with benefits whenever we were in the same place at the same time, but it had been months since I had seen her. Maybe a quick, sleazy hookup was just what I needed to break through the black cloud that had been hovering over me since my return.

“What’s your name, sugar?”

Her voice was squeaky and hurt my head but I was loaded enough to ignore it.

“Rome.”

I saw her heavily made-up eyes dart back to someplace over my shoulder and that should have been my first clue that this wasn’t going to end up all fun and games.

“That’s a different name. I’m Abbie. Now that we’re friends, why don’t we get out of here and get better acquainted?” She ran a painted fingernail over the curve of my bicep and for some reason the bloodred color of it made other images of things that same color start to flash behind my already hazy vision.

I started to pull away, to get those hands that were making bad things happen in my foggy brain to let me go, when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder from behind. I was a trained soldier, but more than that, I was a man who had a brother born and bred into trouble. I knew what trouble looked like from a million miles away. I knew what trouble felt like, what it moved like, how it sounded, and yet I had kept right on drinking and ignored all the signs as it built up around me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Brite frown at whoever was standing behind me, and even in my stupor of bourbon and beer I knew this wasn’t going to be good.

Sighing under my breath, I shook off the talons that had me seeing blood spilling out of a young soldier’s throat onto the desert sand and turned around so that I was leaning back on the bar with my elbows. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see that almost the entire back poolroom of bikers was now gathered around me and the bar area. The guy with his paw on my shoulder was a scrawny little fella and I felt my boozy brain register that he wasn’t wearing the club’s colors, which meant he was either a hang-around or a prospect, and I was the lucky bastard he had picked to try and prove his worth with. Sometimes it sucked being a big-ass dude.

“Can I help you?”

The redhead was long gone and Brite was making his way around the end of the long bar. The old guys stayed posted up and ignored the brewing hurricane like only lifelong drunks were capable of doing.

“You trying to start something with my girl, GI Joe?”

It was boring and so predictable that I had to roll my eyes. I had been in enough shithole places in the world to know that a bar brawl was a bar brawl, but throw in a wannabe biker and it could get really foul.

“No. I was trying to get drunk, and she interrupted me.”

I don’t think they were expecting that because a couple of titters ran through the group. Scrawny puffed up his chest and reached out a finger to poke me in mine. Normally I could just walk away from this kind of thing. I was typically a levelheaded kind of guy. I didn’t fight unless it was in defense of something I really and truly believed in, or in defense of someone I loved, but today was the wrong day to goad a reaction out of me.

I swatted the guy’s hand away and did a quick survey of the room. I didn’t see any visible hardware, but bikers were known for stashing knives in hard-to-see places, and Brite seemed like a cool enough guy. I didn’t want to trash his place if I could help it.

“Look, dude, you don’t want to do this, and I really don’t want to do this. We both know you sent the chick over here to try and start shit, so just leave it at that. I’ll bounce, and you and your buddies can go back to smoking up and shooting pool. Nobody has to bleed or look stupid. Okay?”

In hindsight, trying to drunkenly reason with a bunch of bikers probably was bound to have a low success rate. Between one blink and the next I had a bottle broken over my head and found myself in a serious choke hold. Scrawny Guy looked like he wanted to kill me and the rest of his crew was just hanging back waiting to see what he could do. I didn’t really want to hurt the guy, but the bottle over the head had taken a nice chunk of skin off with it and a river of red was steadily flowing into my eyes. Just like with the red nail polish on the tramp’s fingers, the sight of my own blood took me to another place and time, and it wasn’t me struggling with a stupid, show-off biker, it was me battling for life, for freedom, for the security of my family and friends at home. Just like that, the poor kid had no idea what hit him.

I already had a distinct size advantage on the guy; throw in the fact that I was a soldier who’d been battle-hardened and trained by the country’s best, and it got nasty and bloody fast. It didn’t matter that the numbers were so obviously skewed in the biker’s favor, I was getting out of the bar in one piece no matter what I had to do to make that happen.

Bar stools were broken. Glasses went flying. Heads banged against the floor. I think at one point I heard someone crying, and somehow when it was all over I was hunched over with my hands on my knees, blood now dripping not only from my lacerated head but also my hands, and a nasty knife slice across my ribs. The bikers had scattered, for the most part, and I wasn’t surprised to see Brite holding a baseball bat and glaring at me.

“What the hell was that?”

I would have laughed, but I think the knife cut in my side was worse than I’d originally thought.

“A really shitty ‘thanks for your service’?” My humor was not appreciated, as the older man swore at me and pulled me painfully into a standing position.

“Doesn’t look like that little punk is gonna get patched in anytime soon.”

I got a critical once-over and was met with a sigh.

“You need a doctor.”

It wasn’t a question.

I tried to wipe the blood off my face with the back of my hand but just ended up smearing it all across my face while my side steadily leaked onto the floor.

“I rode in. Don’t think I can handle the bike right now.”

He shook his head at me and put two fingers in his mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle.

“Everybody drink up and get out. Consider this last call.”

A few diehards grumbled, but it only took five minutes before Brite was locking the front door, hauling me out the back door, and shoving me into the battered cab of an old Chevy pickup truck.

I rested my head back against the seat and gave the older man a rueful grin.

“I’ll pay for any damage to the bar. I’m sorry about that.”

He snorted in response and gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Try not to bleed out before we get to the emergency room, son.”

Like I had a choice.

“The Sons of Sorrow hang out in the bar all the time. The old-timers are a good group of guys. A bunch of them are ex-military and get what my bar is all about, so I don’t usually gripe about them coming in. It’s all the younger kids trying to make a name who stir shit up. It wasn’t the first time blood has been spilled on that floor and I doubt it’ll be the last. You come see me when you sober up and get all sewed back together and we’ll talk about what you can do to repay me for the damages. Gotta tell you, you’re one hell of a fighter, son.”

I would have shrugged but the slice on my ribs was starting to burn and I was having a hard time ignoring the sticky, warm blood oozing between my fingers, so I just grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’m really not. I hate fighting, I did it for a living for too many years, but the only way to come out alive is to be better at it than the other guy.”

I closed my eyes and silently prayed we didn’t hit any more red lights. My vision was starting to blur around the edges.

Brite’s voice was gruff as we pulled into the parking lot of the emergency room. “That’s a damn shame, son.”

I didn’t have a response because he was right. It was a shame.

I didn’t get admitted right away. I guess a knife wound and a split-open scalp took a backseat to fingers blown off by fireworks on the Fourth. I didn’t want to keep Brite waiting, so I called Nash and left a garbled message that I was going to need a ride at some point in the night. I knew I should have called Rule or Shaw, but I just wasn’t up to dealing with that headache right now. And I knew Nash would come with no questions asked even if I had been a royal ass earlier in the day.

“I gotta leave my bike at your bar tonight. I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on it for me in case Scrawny is a sore loser.”

Brite nodded and again I saw that flash of white buried in that massive beard. “Well, I would say it was nice to meet you, Rome Archer, but of all the things I’ve been in this life, a liar has never been one of them.”

We shook hands and I promised that I would touch base with him when I was in more functioning order.

I had to wait longer than I was comfortable with to see someone, and by the time they took me to the sterile little room and pulled the curtain around the bed, I was pretty sure I was staying conscious by the sheer force of my will alone. I was peeling my ruined T-shirt off over my head when the curtain moved back and a really pretty nurse holding a chart came in. She had her head bent over whatever she was reading and it gave me the opportunity to check her out. She had long copper hair twisted in a braid away from a truly lovely face. She looked a couple of years younger than me, and I couldn’t help but appreciate that she was rocking some kick-ass curves under those boring scrubs all medical professionals seemed to wear.

“Hey.”

She looked up at the sound of my voice and blinked wide, dove-gray eyes at me. I don’t know if it was the sight of my naked chest or the fact that I was now covered head to waist in blood that had her looking apprehensive.

“Hello, Mr. Archer. It looks like you had a rough night.”

“I’ve had better, that’s for sure.”

She snapped on some latex gloves and came over to stand beside me.

“Let’s have a look at what kind of trouble you got yourself into, shall we?”

She poked and prodded at my head and I tried not to stare at her boobs. She really was a pretty girl and it made the sting of her jabbing at my newest battle wounds hurt just a little less.

“What’s your name?” I didn’t really need to know it, I probably would never see her again after I got stitched up, but her eyes were just so soft and pretty I couldn’t help but ask.

She gave me a friendly smile and looked like she was about to oblige me when the flimsy curtain was yanked back and Nash came barreling through. His cornflower-blue eyes were on fire with a mixture of anger and concern. The flames tattooed on the side of his head were standing out as the vein under them throbbed in irritation.

“Do you have any idea the kind of hell I’m going to get from Rule when he finds out about this? Goddamn it, Rome, what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

I was going to respond when his attention switched from me to the lovely nurse who was staring at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. I was used to Nash’s dramatic look and larger-than-life presence. He and Rule had always drawn a lot of attention, so it never fazed me, but the pretty little nurse suddenly looked like she was seeing a ghost and it looked like Nash was trying to place where he might have seen her before as well.

“I just need to get stitched up and then you can yell at me on the way home.”

The nurse cleared her throat and tossed her now-bloodstained gloves in the trash. “You’re probably looking at staples for the laceration in your head. It’s pretty nasty and deeper than it looks. The slice on the side is pretty clean, so you might get away with just a topical, liquid suture on it. The doc will be in shortly.”

Her entire demeanor changed with Nash in the room. I could tell he noticed something was off with her as well. He scrunched up his nose and stared at her until she was uncomfortable enough to look up at him.

“Do we know each other?”

She shook her head so hard that she dislodged the pen she had tucked behind her ear.

“No. No I don’t think we do.”

He scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you sure? You look really familiar to me.”

She shrugged and fiddled with the stethoscope that dangled around her neck. She was hot, and if I was so inclined, I could see working up some really nice nurse fantasies where she was the main attraction.

“I get that a lot. I must just have one of those faces. I have to run. No rest for the wicked.” She gave me a little grin and disappeared around the corner, leaving both of us staring after her, me in pure male appreciation, Nash in puzzlement.

“I swear I know that chick from somewhere.”

“She one of your one-hit wonders?”

“No. Maybe Rule’s pre-Shaw?”

I snorted and contemplated the ceiling while my head and side continued to burn. “She seems too smart to fall into that category.”

“Maybe. It’s going to drive me nuts until I figure it out. What the hell happened to you tonight? Picking a fight with Rule wasn’t enough, you had to take on a whole biker bar?”

“’Merica!” I gave a bitter laugh at my lame joke.

He scowled at me and took a seat on the doctor’s wheelie chair, dwarfing the thing.

“Seriously, Rome. You need to knock this shit off.”

I didn’t have to answer because the doctor chose that moment to come in. He was a guy in his fifties who clearly was at the end of a long shift because he was no-nonsense as all get-out and wasted no time in fixing me right up. When he was done he gave me a serious look and told me I might want to lay off the booze considering my blood test came back potent enough to start fires, and all I could do was silently agree.

He scribbled a prescription for painkillers that I hoped I wouldn’t need to fill since I was already struggling with my reliance on another dangerous substance, and told me the nurse would be back in a few minutes to discharge me. I was stoked about having one more chance to get my flirt going, but as soon as she stuck her head back in, it was clear she was all business and wanted nothing more than to see us go.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Archer, and thank you for your service to our country.”

She spun around to leave when Nash suddenly hopped to his feet and snapped his fingers. It made the nurse wince and made me frown.

“I knew I knew you! We went to high school together, didn’t we? Aren’t you Saint Ford?”

We could have heard a pin drop she went so still and got so quiet. She stared at him like he had just crawled out of the sewer.

“I am. I’m surprised you recognized me, most people don’t.”

He tilted his head to the side and gave her a considering look. “Why did you say we didn’t know each other, then?”

She cleared her throat and fiddled with the end of her braid. She was clearly very uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Because high school was a million years ago and I was a very different person then. It’s not a time that comes with the fondest memories; in fact I prefer to pretend it never even happened. I’m sure that’s not something a guy like you can understand. Have a nice night; try to avoid any more knife-wielding bikers if you can, Mr. Archer.”

She swept out in a haughty cloud, leaving both of us dumbfounded and gaping at each other.

“Whoa. Were you a dick to her in school or something? That was a whole lot of hostility for something that happened so long ago.”

He shrugged and helped me get up onto my feet. I wobbled a bit from the mixture of alcohol and blood loss, so he didn’t let go until I was steady.

“Probably. Rule, Jet, and I were a bunch of punks. Remy was the nice one.”

“What do you mean, ‘were’? You probably teased her for being fat or something.”

He had the good grace to look ashamed. “That is entirely possible. I wasn’t exactly in a great place when I was in high school either. There was too much stuff going on with my mom and that idiot she married for me to really give a crap about anything or anyone else. Man, that blows. She’s a total babe now.”

I didn’t even consider putting my blood-soaked shirt back on as I hobbled out of the emergency room.

“She sure is.”

We got to Nash’s fully restored ’73 Dodge Charger and I slumped down in the seat. It wasn’t the worst Independence Day I could remember having, but it sure wasn’t one of the best either. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about everything, not that that seemed to be working out for me so great as of late.

“Listen, dude, I’m sorry about today. I’ll touch base with Rule and make things right. I’m just a little off balance right now.”

The massive motor rattled so loud it made my teeth hurt.

“We all get that. You just aren’t giving anyone a chance to try and help set you straight.”

“I’ll chill out.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to go about that exactly but I knew I needed to get on it. “You can tell the rabid pixie to back off.”

He laughed. “No can do, my friend. Cora is like a pit bull; when she sinks her teeth into something or someone she doesn’t let go. You might want to try and apologize. She just wants to look out for all of us and she does a good job of it.”

I closed my eyes and let my head drop back on the seat.

“I remember when that was my job.”

Heavy silence filled the car and I didn’t think he was going to say anything else about it, but after a minute he muttered, “You went off to save the entire world, Rome, we just did the best we could while you were gone.”

Just like being a big guy often had its disadvantages, wanting to be a hero to everyone and anyone often had the same dangerous pitfalls. I got used to everyone needing me, to them relying on me, and now that I wasn’t needed anymore I simply didn’t know what to do with myself. That honestly terrified me more than any war zone or bar brawl with armed bikers ever could.

CHAPTER 3 Cora

Summertime was always busier at the shop. It was the Tuesday after the ill-fated barbecue, and the ink bunnies were out in full force. The warm weather and lack of clothes led to people wanting to get all kinds of adornment in all kinds of interesting and visible places, and I swore to God that ever since Rule had officially gone off the market, the girls who came in to get work done specifically by him had doubled in number. I would never understand the allure of wanting something you clearly couldn’t have, but I had to admit it was a riot to watch them try to get it.

The Terrible Trio were booked solid for the next six weeks, as were the other three artists who rounded out the crew at the Marked. I wasn’t as busy since I had to schedule appointments around my other obligations at the shop. Today a young guy had wandered in talking a big game about getting a full Jacob’s ladder, but hadn’t even made it past the point where he actually had to take his pants and underwear off to let me get at the goods. That happened a lot, so I found myself with an hour of downtime that I was using to stalk Jimmy on Facebook.

For the last five years Jimmy only popped up in my mind when something or someone reminded me of him, but ever since that wedding invitation showed up in the mail, I was obsessed. It was like all the old hurt, the old embarrassment, was fresh in my mind and all the wounds he had left me with were opened back up and bleeding. I really owed that jackass a punch in the nuts if I ever saw him again. I hated to admit that the girl my ex was going to marry really was lovely and that they looked happy together, but then I remembered that he and I had looked that way as well at one point in time and it hadn’t kept him faithful to me.

The guys were listening to some really loud punk rock and I wasn’t really paying attention because I was lost in my own memories when I realized someone was leaning on the counter across from me. The waiting area had people milling around waiting for their friends or family members to finish up with their appointments, but I hadn’t heard the chime of the bell over the door ring to indicate a new arrival. At first I thought it was a walk-in wanting to set up a consult, but it was only when I had to lift my gaze up, and then even farther up, that I realized it was not someone I was particularly happy to see. My feelings must have been reflected on my face because the hard mouth I was used to seeing in a harsh downturn actually kicked up on one side in a grin that transformed Rome’s entire face.

There was no denying the Archer brothers had won the genetic lottery. Whereas Rule’s good looks were camouflaged under self-adorned artwork and flair, Rome’s were totally in your face and impossible for all the girly parts of me not to notice. If the army wanted to guarantee the recruitment of every ninety-pound weakling from here to Brooklyn, all they needed to do was slap Rome Archer on their recruitment posters. He just emanated a sense of “take care of business” that was heady, and I shouldn’t have found it attractive, but I totally did. He was as gorgeous as he was annoying.

I cleared my throat and clicked off the browser.

“You look terrible.” And he did. He had a black ball cap on with a white Broncos logo on the front, but even under the shadow of the brim I could see that he had the shadow of a bruise under one eye and that the knuckles of the hands he had placed on the counter where he was leaning were torn up and covered in scabs. All that aside, his eyes were still the bluest blue I had ever seen and that tiny little grin did more to make him look like an actual, breathing human than I think a full-on smile ever could.

The eyebrow under the scar twitched a little and he rapped his fingers on the marble that separated us.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

I blinked those eyes in surprise because I wasn’t expecting that. So far all this guy had shown he was capable of emoting was vitriol and angst. The compliment seemed out of left field.

“Ahh … thanks?” My eyes were two different colors. The left was a bright, iridescent turquoise that was indeed really pretty, the right was a hazel brown that fluctuated between hot-cocoa brown to the color of espresso at any given moment. People commented on them a lot, but I never would have figured Rome to be one of them. In fact I think it was the first thing he had ever spoken directly to me. I was good with words, so I didn’t love that him being nice made me tongue-tied.

“Do you think you can grab my brother for me? I need to talk to him really quick. I have an entire post–Independence Day parade of repentance I need to get through today.”

I stared up at him in surprise. In my experience big, gruff ex-soldiers weren’t the type of guys who readily admitted accountability when they messed up. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, or really of him. I did know his looming presence and those too-blue eyes were making me kind of uncomfortable, but not in the he’s a big jerk kind of way, more in the I really want to see him without a shirt on kind of way.

I cleared my throat again and looked back into the shop. Rule was wiping the clear goo on the fresh ink he used to protect the tattoo for the client until they got home. He was watching Rome and me interact with a frown on his face and I noticed that Nash and Rowdy all wore similar expressions. I didn’t know if the sour looks were directed at me or at Rome, but I didn’t like it either way and gave them all a glare back. I swiveled around in my chair and looked back up at Rome. He was watching me with a look of curiosity on his face and I almost wished I knew him better so I knew what it meant.

“He’ll be done in like fifteen minutes if you want to hang out. He has another appointment right behind it, though, so try and keep the murder and mayhem to a minimum.”

He snorted and pushed off the counter. I hated to admit it, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the muscles that were rippling along his huge biceps, visible under the sleeves of his black T-shirt. I wasn’t the kind of girl who was attracted to bulging muscles and a rock-hard physique, at least I never thought I was until I couldn’t pull my eyes off of all the sinew and flex that was Rome Archer. He was just too big, too much, and way too all-American to be sending all those kinds of tingly things running under my skin.

“I’m not exactly sure why, but I feel like I should apologize to you as well. Even though I’m the one that ended up covered head to toe in beer.”

I winced a little and tried not to squirm under the scrutiny of those piercing eyes. I tugged on my ear and looked away. The smooth surface of the plug in the lobe rubbed back and forth between my fingers.

“I have a tendency to overreact at times, and you were being unbearable. Every one of those people loves you and has worried about you for years and years while you were gone. The least you can do is return that affection.”

He had the good grace to look properly chastised, and when he took his hat off to rub a hand over his short cap of hair, I noticed a nasty-looking gash that now decorated the side of his head.

“What on earth happened to you?”

He looked confused until his fingers grazed the shaved spot and the tiny metal sutures holding his scalp together.

He slammed his hat back on his head and the grin that had been dancing around his mouth fell totally away.

“Wrong place at the wrong time, I have a knack for finding myself there.”

I didn’t understand how a guy who clearly had so much going for him—good looks, a loving family, hordes of people that cared about him, a successful career, and obviously a rigid sense of duty and honor—could be so unconcerned about his circumstances and his impact on those around him.

I cocked my head to the side and regarded him closely. I didn’t know Rome from any other stranger on the street, but there was something about him, something strong and magnetic that I was having a hard time denying made me want to figure out what made him tick. Maybe it was the idea of having a distraction from how bummed out I was becoming the closer the date to Jimmy’s wedding got. Maybe it was because he was so ingrained in the lives of everyone I cared about. Maybe it was because he was just so much larger than life and impossible to ignore, but the longer we stared at each other the more my curiosity was piqued.

I was going to tell him he should be more careful, when a heavy hand fell on the back of my neck and gave it a slight squeeze. I knew Rule well enough to take it as the warning it was: Don’t meddle. Rome didn’t need me trying to dismantle him and reassemble him in proper working order. He was a grown man and was going to have to find his way on his own.

Rule’s client looked back and forth between the brothers with huge eyes and then at me, like I could explain why the room suddenly seemed full of tension and hostility, making it almost impossible to breathe. I forced a smile at her and climbed out of the chair.

“Let me just check you out and get you paid up. Why don’t you two take the brotherly love outside before you scare the rest of the customers into leaving?”

Rule gave the back of my neck another squeeze and let me go as he made his way around the counter toward Rome. The two brothers regarded each other stonily and Rule pushed out the glass front door without saying a word to his big brother. The antagonism passing between the two of them felt hot and heavy, which was a shame. They had already suffered the loss of one brother, they should be reveling in the fact they still had each other to lean on and give shit to. I had a hard time understanding how Remy’s secrets had done more to drive the Archer brothers apart than his actual death had.

Rome gave me one last look that I couldn’t decipher. “They’re all lucky to have you.”

I thought the same thing all the time, but it was weird hearing him say it in such an empty and hollow tone, like he was missing something crucial.

“Well, I’m lucky to have all of them, too, and so are you, Captain No-Fun.”

Those blue eyes got big and then blinked at me and once again that little half grin that turned him from a good-looking dude into someone that made my heart bump against my chest in an erratic rhythm lit up his face.

“What did you call me?”

“Captain No-Fun.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded rusty from lack of use and he shook his head at me.

“Staff Sergeant No-Fun is more accurate.”

I gaped a little in surprise that a sense of humor actually lurked somewhere under all the muscle and broodiness.

“I call my dad ‘Admiral Ass Hat,’ he doesn’t really think it’s funny.”

The scar on his forehead twitched again. “Your dad was in the navy?”

“Oh yeah. He was totally Popeye.”

“Was he really an admiral?” There was a shade of respect in his tone.

“Yep, so you can imagine how thrilled he was trying to rein me in when I was younger.”

He chuckled again and this time it didn’t sound so much like it hurt him. His eyes glinted at me as he pulled the door open to follow Rule out into the Colorado sunshine.

“I don’t know, Half-Pint, something tells me reining you in is probably a pretty good time.”

I felt my next words die in my throat, and it occurred to me that I was openly flirting with a guy I had poured beer all over only a couple of days ago. Not to mention he totally wasn’t my type and so far from what my idea of what the perfect match for me was that it was laughable.

I jerked my attention back to Rule’s client, who was still waiting to pay for the peacock design he had inked along her rib cage. She was watching me with what I could only describe as envy, so I coughed a little and tried to get back down to business. It bugged me that while I ran her credit card and went over the after-care instructions with her, my gaze kept wandering to the big panes of glass that faced Colfax and the Capitol Hill area of downtown Denver. Rome had his back to the glass and I could see Rule gesturing with his hands, and he had a look on his face that was intense and serious. It looked like this was a confrontation the boys needed to have a long time ago.

“Here ya go.” I handed her the slip to sign and wasn’t surprised when she not only tipped 35 percent but also jotted her phone number down on the back of the slip. I would have given her a reproachful look or made some kind of snarky comment about it but she beat me to the punch.

With a shrug she tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave me a rueful grin.

“You have the best view in all of Denver in this shop, and every time I come back it gets better. I saw his girl’s name tattooed across his knuckles on his hand. If he won’t take my number, give it to the big guy, I’m not picky and he looks like he could use a good time.”

She swept out of the shop leaving me feeling a mixture of irritation and something else I wasn’t sure of. It felt slimy and slippery and I didn’t like whatever it was at all. I was possessive over my guys, that much was true, but Rome wasn’t one of them, so I couldn’t justify why the girl wanting him to have her number made me want to pull out her hair strand by strand.

Rome and Rule were still going at it when his next client showed up, so I set the guy up and had him fill out all his paperwork and stuff so that all Rule had to do was put the transfer on and do the tattoo. When I got back to the desk, Nash was sending his client on his way and had taken over my seat. He was watching me steadily out of those eyes that were way more lilac than blue. I crossed my arms over my chest, propped a hip on the desk, and met him look for look.

“What?”

He rubbed his thumb along the corner of his mouth and blew out a breath. “I need a smoke.”

“I thought you were trying to quit.”

“‘Trying’ is the operative word in that sentence.”

“Try chewing gum or something.”

He grunted and arched back in the chair, lacing his fingers together behind his tattooed head. Nash was a really handsome guy, it just took a minute to notice it under that shockingly tattooed scalp and the tiny ring hooked through the center of his nose.

“Don’t even try and go there with Rome, Cora.”

I tried to keep my eye from twitching and my mouth from frowning. I had known Nash for a long time and there was no way I could pretend not to know what he was talking about.

“You all say he’s a wonderful guy. Why wouldn’t you want me to try and help get him back for you?”

“Because not everyone in the world needs your kind of help. Rome will find his way, we all believe that, and I was talking about the goo-goo eyes you two were just making at each other. That isn’t something I think either of you needs to try and mess with.”

I didn’t like anyone trying to tell me what to do, even if I knew Nash was just looking out for my ultimate best interests.

“It’s not like I’m Captain America’s type anyway. Don’t worry.” I pushed the edge of the chair with my foot, making him twist away from me. “Besides, you know I’m holding out for Mr. Perfect and that guy is so far from it there isn’t a bridge on this planet that could get him from here to there.”

He planted his Vans-clad feet on the ground and pushed up so that he was standing in front of me. He bent down so that we were nose to nose and I couldn’t look away from those intense, pretty-colored eyes.

“There is no Mr. Perfect, Tink. You made him laugh, whatever that means. I haven’t heard him laugh one single time since he got back into town. Just watch yourself because no one county can have two rulers and neither one of you likes to give up control.”

I wanted to laugh it off, to brush off his warning as unwarranted and silly, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Rome Archer was enigmatic and that I found him more interesting than anyone I had encountered in a long time. Not to mention I really did want to see what he looked like without his shirt on, which was something because my libido had been missing in action for longer than I cared to admit … Ack, it all had the makings of something that was indeed bound to get complicated and messy if I didn’t put a lid on it quick.

I sat back down just as Rule came back in the door. He didn’t look overly upset, but he didn’t exactly look very happy either. I was going to ask him if he was okay, but he waved me off and muttered that he didn’t want to keep his client waiting any longer than he already had. Since that was a valid brush-off, I let it slide and went back about the business of keeping the shop running.

I know it was often hard to believe, given my big mouth and unusual appearance, but I had a killer mind for business and was really only a few college courses away from finishing out a full-fledged MBA. My dad and I had a difficult and convoluted relationship, but I always wanted him to be proud of me, and he had given me every tool and every opportunity to be the best me I could be. It had just been him and me for as long as I could remember. My mom had decided having a baby and being married to a guy who was deployed all the time was no fun, so I bounced from naval base to naval base and spent ungodly amounts of time with a series of nannies, distant relatives, and eventually Dad’s girlfriends or live-in lady friends until I met Jimmy when I was seventeen and promptly decided he was my whole world.

Dad had eventually, after too many knock-down, drag-out fights, agreed to let me go live with Jimmy as long as I graduated high school and enrolled in college. I had no problem doing either of those things, and by the time I was a freshman in college, Jimmy had the shop open in Brooklyn and I was doing the same thing I did now for far less money. I had always had an interest in body modification, but I couldn’t even draw a stick figure, so it was just a natural progression that I learned how to pierce and do dermal implants from the guy at Jimmy’s shop. He was an awesome mentor and I liked having an actual skill that I could use in the world I lived in. Plus, it was fun to stick needles in people. What can I say, I’m a weird chick.

When things had gone south with Jimmy, my drive and ambition had taken a nosedive right along with my relationship. I barely finished my senior year and the damage done had a lasting effect on my GPA. I could go back and finish fairly easily but at this point in my career I made a good living at the Marked, I had a full life and generally was happy, aside from missing that magical connection with someone to make me a we instead of simply a me. I had been alone for too long.

Unbidden my thoughts went back to Rome and to that eerie and tight feeling I had in my chest when that girl had asked me to hand her number off to him. We were strangers, I was pretty sure I didn’t even like him very much, but there was no doubt about it: today, while we were in each other’s orbit, he got me to react. I wasn’t sure what to make of that yet. The last guy who had gotten me to react had also destroyed my world when he decided I wasn’t what he wanted. I didn’t do well as a leaf no longer attached to tree. I needed roots, a foundation to grab on to, and when my perfect guy came along he was going to be so solidly planted it would take a hurricane to move him.

The rest of the day was busy and I had two more appointments of my own to get through. I lost track of time and was busy cleaning up my piercing studio and hollering at the guys to make sure they turned off the lights on their way out when I heard the bell over the door ring. Since I had locked it after my last client, I knew it could only be Phil. I poked my head out of the door to tell him I would be out in a second and tried to remember if I had done the “cash out” in order to hand it off to him for the nightly cash drop.

Phil was as opposite to my very clean-cut, straitlaced dad as a man could get. He looked more like a biker than a successful businessman, but the two men had served together in their much younger days, Phil only staying in for a short four years, while my dad made a lifelong career out of the navy. I never really understood how they managed to maintain such a close friendship, considering they disagreed on everything under the sun. Phil was like a second father to me, and I treated him just like I did my own, so when I came out of the room snapping off my latex gloves, I frowned when I saw him sitting in my chair with his head in his hands.

Phil looked an awful lot like an older version of Nash; they had the same swarthy complexion, the same periwinkle-colored eyes, and the same stocky build. Phil had a riot of black hair that he wore pretty long for a guy his age, but with his sleeves of tattoos and neatly trimmed goatee, he pulled it off and still managed to be a babe even if he was in his late forties.

“What’s going on, boss?”

He was typically an energetic and vivacious guy. He lived life at a hundred miles an hour and was constantly taking in strays. I personally thought it was his mission in life to save every wayward soul from themselves.

He looked up at me and I was surprised to see how tired and worn he looked. He had bags under his eyes and his normally full cheeks looked slightly sunken in and hollow, like he hadn’t had a good meal in a few weeks. He rubbed his fists in his eyes and blinked at me.

“Just tired. I’ve been busy. I was thinking about opening a second shop in LoDo and that’s taken more time and effort than I thought.” He even sounded exhausted.

“I didn’t know you were thinking about opening another shop.”

“You guys are the best, but there is a lot of talent out there. I see way too many bad tattoos, too much messed-up work coming out of other shops in this town. I have the resources for it, and frankly I think Denver needs it.”

I went to the safe and pulled the cash dropout. There was definitely a profit to be made in having a second location. I was just surprised I had never heard a word about it before now.

“Have you told the guys about it?”

Phil took the bank bag from me and I frowned when I noticed that his fingers were shaking. Something was off here and I didn’t have a good feeling about it at all. He gave his head a little shake and pushed up from the chair. It looked like it took far more effort than such a simple act should have taken.

“No. Rule was busy getting a house and settling down with his girl. Nash would ask too many questions, want to be too involved, and I haven’t made enough firm decisions about anything yet. Jet ran off and got married, so we know where his head is at, and Rowdy …” A little grin tugged at his goatee. “Rowdy will just go with the flow. The others won’t be affected by it one way or the other, so I don’t think anyone needs in on it until I know for sure what I’m dealing with.”

I had the very distinct impression we were talking about something other than a second tattoo shop, but I had no clue what that might be, so I just stared at him hoping he would clue me in. When he didn’t I sighed and ran my hands through my short hair. I decided to change the subject.

“How well do you know Rome?”

He gave me a strange look. “That’s an odd question, Cora. Why do you ask?”

I tried to shrug nonchalantly but I wasn’t sure I pulled it off.

“Now that he’s back from Afghanistan, he’s around a lot. We don’t exactly click. I poured a beer over his head at the barbecue on the Fourth. I thought he would be pissed about it forever but then he showed up here today all contrite and conciliatory. I’m just trying to figure him out.”

He started to answer me but broke into a cough so loud and hacking that I thought maybe I was going to have to catch his lung if it flew out of his mouth. I settled for patting him on the back until he waved me away.

“Stop it. I’m fine.”

“You sound the opposite of fine.”

“I think I’m just coming down with a cold or something.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the center of his chest like it hurt. “I don’t know Rome as well as the rest of the boys. He had it okay at home, his relationship with his folks was nowhere near as contentious as Rule’s was. I know he loved those brothers of his and took care of them like it was his God-given mission from birth. They were a solid unit and I was glad when he took Nash into that fold. It didn’t surprise me when he enlisted, or that things got rough when the folks let the truth out about Remy. Rome was always going out of his way to play hero for his little brothers, I’m sure it stung something fierce to find out one of them was protecting him all along.”

“I don’t get it. Why would anyone have cared if Remy was gay if they all loved him so damn much?”

“It wasn’t that. Rome would have tried to stand between Remy and the rest of the world, he wouldn’t have tolerated anyone trying to say anything bad about his baby brother, regardless if Remy needed the help or not. I think he was saving Rome from himself by not telling him the truth, but knowing someone you loved so fiercely kept such a huge secret from you is rough. You know that, Tink.”

I did know that, but I was so used to fighting my battles alone that the idea of having someone love me as unconditionally as that was pretty foreign. I mean my dad loved me, but he didn’t necessarily protect me. I knew my friends here would die for me, would stand between me and anything that wanted to hurt me, but I was always the one that charged headfirst into most situations, regardless of the blowback that tended to end up on me. There were times when I wondered if I was going to be too much for them to take.

“He comes across very intense.”

“He’s a guy that has been at war for too long. I’m sure that’s left its mark.”

I thought about that scar that cut across his forehead, marring an otherwise beautiful example of masculine perfection. The marks that had been left on him from that life weren’t just the ones on the inside, I guessed.

Another round of coughing broke through my thoughts and I scowled at Phil as fiercely as I could to let him know that I meant business.

“You need to get that checked out. It sounds terrible.”

“Yeah, yeah, as soon as I find the time. It’s just a little tickle.”

“No, it’s not. It sounds like you have the Black Plague.”

He shook his head at me and bent over to give me a little kiss on the cheek.

“You worry too much. You take care of those boys, I can take care of myself.” He lifted a dark eyebrow at me. “While you’re at it, why don’t you find someone to take care of you? That would make your old man so damn happy.”

I snorted and went to grab my purse and cell phone from the drawer I kept them in while I worked. I was trying, but everyone came up short. It was hard to trust someone enough to let them all the way in when I didn’t think they deserved to be there.

“Nobody fits the bill. Everyone keeps telling me my expectations are too high.”

“Are they?”

We walked out the front door and I hit the last of the lights. I folded against Phil as he tugged me into a tight one-armed hug. I tried to fight down a swell of panic when I realized I could feel his ribs through his shirt. He was typically a solid guy, this wasn’t good.

“My expectations are what they are. I’m never going to end up in a situation like I did with Jimmy again.”

“Ah, honey, you gotta get over that burn. It was a long time ago. It should all be scar tissue by now and there are plenty of good, if not great men out there, and not a single one of them is going to come wrapped up in a bow of perfection.”

“I expect a lot because I deserve a lot.”

“That you do, Tink, but you also gotta keep your eyes open or the right one is going to pass you by because you were too busy looking for the white whale.”

Again, against my will, my thoughts flipped to Rome Archer. I had told Nash that the older Archer was as far from perfect as I could imagine and I wasn’t lying. He was moody, unpredictable, and I had a feeling that he was dealing with some baggage that even I couldn’t help tackle. However, by all accounts he was also loyal to a fault, steadfastly honorable, and I had firsthand knowledge that he appeared to be honest and up-front about what he was feeling. There would be no guessing where you stood with the big guy, and something about that was alarmingly appealing.

Jimmy had been tall, not nearly as tall as Rome, but a lot taller than me. He had also had ink from his neck to his toes and had been pierced in all the most fun places. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous like Rowdy, unforgettable like Rule, even just handsome like Nash, or rock-and-roll sexy like Jet. He was just a guy, and I had loved him beyond measure. But now, looking back on things, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I had been selling myself short because Rome was most definitely the most attractive guy I had ever seen up close and personal and he thought I had pretty eyes. Jimmy had never told me I had pretty anything. Rome felt dangerous and exciting at the same time even if perfect was nowhere in the picture. It made me all kinds of tingly and that was more than anyone else had done since Jimmy broke my heart.

CHAPTER 4 Rome

Rule looked pissed when I finally pulled myself away from Cora and made my way outside. I wasn’t looking forward to this little chat and flirting with the blonde was a great distraction. While she had been occupied with something on the computer I slipped in the front door and watched her unnoticed for a few minutes. She wasn’t my type. I didn’t normally go for girls that were so tiny. I liked them built sturdy and able to handle everything I had to give them. I wasn’t a huge fan of all the ink and metal. I was used to it because my brother was covered in it and I had to admit that I liked the snowflakes that Shaw had across her neck and shoulders, but it wasn’t my thing. I had enough permanent marks forever etched in my skin that I had never asked for and I couldn’t imagine voluntarily adding any more. In fact I wasn’t thrilled about the new addition on my head, considering that since I wore my hair so short, the bald spot from the scar was bound to show.

Cora was different. She didn’t come across as delicate even though she probably only reached my chest when we stood toe-to-toe. Her eyes were outstanding. I had never seen anything like them; the dual colors were unique in themselves, but the fact that whatever she was feeling literally ran from one color to the next was fascinating. I had never met a woman that transparent or that open with her emotions before. It was like she had zero artifice in her. She was also damn cute. Not beautiful or stunningly pretty, but she was cuter than any girl with that much attitude had a right to be, and somehow the bouquet of flowers that colored her skin in every shape and variety seemed like it belonged there. Even the pink eyebrow ring and the little gauges in her ears didn’t distract from the fact that she was pretty much a hot little number all around.

I had to drag my attention to my brother when I could feel the heat of his anger blazing off the distance separating us. His icy eyes were hard and I knew simply throwing out a generic apology wasn’t going to cut it.

“Rule, I’m sorry.” I took my hat off and rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m sort of spiraling out of control right now and I don’t want you to get caught up in it.”

“Well, I am, and more importantly Shaw is, and I’m not down with that at all.”

I cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For ruining my barbecue? For making Shaw cry for no reason? For calling my relationship a mistake? For getting wasted and acting stupid all the time? For ignoring Mom and Dad? For getting your ass kicked by a bunch of bikers and calling Nash and not me? Narrow it the fuck down, Rome. What exactly are you sorry for?”

Damn, this wasn’t my carefree and I don’t give a shit about anyone brother. This was a serious-as-all-get-out young man who was rightfully pissed, and it was all directed at me. I sighed and I hung my head. Ever since the twins could walk, I had felt like they were mine to protect, mine to guide in the right direction, and mine to help groom into the men they were supposed to become. I didn’t know if it was because Rule was such a troublemaker and always flitting from one catastrophe to the next, or because Remy was so coddled, so babied and in real danger of becoming a pansy, that I was so invested in their care, but whatever the reason, their well-being had always been my top priority and I felt now like I had let both of them down.

“All of it. I’m sorry for all of it. It’s been rough trying to settle back into civilian life and I’m sucking at it. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you guys. I know it, but I can’t seem to stop it.”

“We love you, dude, but I swear to God, if you put me in a position where I have to pick between you and Shaw, she is going to win every single time, hands down. Know it.”

That took me aback for a second. After Remy died, it had just been me and Rule against the world. He wasn’t only my little brother, he was also my best friend, and I had never been able to picture a scenario where someone would mean more to him than me. I sort of loved and hated that Shaw was that person. It also galled me to admit that I was damn proud of Rule for standing that particular ground with me.

“It won’t come to that. I can’t lose another brother. I’ll make it right with Shaw. Mom and Dad might take some more time, but I’ll get it together, swear it.” I wasn’t even ready to admit to myself the underlying reasons—beyond their dishonesty—that made dealing with my parents impossible for me at this juncture.

He looked skeptical, so I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to explain.

“I love Shaw like a sister. I always took care of both you and Remy. It sucked that Shaw didn’t tell us about Remy, but it sucks more that he used her and she let him get away with it. I’m mad at him and I was mad at her and I just didn’t know what to do with any of it, so she suffered the brunt of it because I was leaving again anyway. We’re family, all of us, there shouldn’t have ever been secrets like that. It makes me feel like I was fighting for the wrong things all along, for people I didn’t even really know.”

“Remy made his choices. It sucks he didn’t want us to know, didn’t trust us to let him live his life the way he wanted, but he’s gone and Shaw is here and she’s mine. I’ll protect her from anyone that wants to hurt her in any way, and that includes you, dickhead. I’m pissed at Remy, too, but I would rather keep the good memories alive, so every single day that’s what I try and do.”

Rule had a valid point, but he didn’t understand that what I was battling against was so much bigger and harder to process than coming to terms with the fact that Remy and our parents had lied. I had so much death, so much blood in my dreams, that Rule would never be able to relate to it. No one would.

I blew out a heavy breath and slammed my hat back down on my head, wincing a little as the interior scraped across my newly acquired wound.

“I wish it was that easy for me.” I reached out and punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously I’ll talk to Shaw and try and lay off the doom and gloom. Being Captain No-Fun really is no fun.”

Rule rolled his winter-colored eyes and went to reach for the handle on the glass door we had been standing in front of. “Ignore Cora. We do all the time. She’s a handful.”

She did indeed look like the perfect handful, but I don’t think Rule would appreciate me saying that. I wasn’t even sure why I was thinking it.

“I really am sorry about the emergency room. I was pretty drunk and had lost a ton of blood; plus it’s embarrassing. There’s no way some scrawny biker prospect should’ve been able to get that good of a lick in the first place. Speaking of which, I have to roll to the bar and make amends. The owner took care of my bike, and when I went to collect it he wouldn’t take a dime for the repairs to his place. He told me to swing by today and we could work something else out. He’s a really legit guy, so I need to make it right by him as well.”

“Cool, but next time you get cut open, call me. Put the shop number in your phone so that you can get in touch with me during the day. I don’t answer my cell when I’m with clients. Cora can get me if you need me.”

I tapped the number in my phone and regarded my brother seriously.

“We good?”

His eyes were so much cooler than mine, so much more guarded, and I could tell he wasn’t a hundred percent on board with forgiving me just yet.

“For now we are.”

It didn’t sound like he had much hope for me being able to act right in the foreseeable future. I didn’t like that at all. He told me he needed to get to his client, so we said good-bye and I found myself looking back through the glass to get another glimpse of the intriguing blonde. Too bad she had her back to me and appeared to be deep in conversation with Nash about something. I turned and went back to where I left my bike on the street to head down to Brite’s bar.

I asked him the name of the place when I went to pick up my bike on the day after the Fourth, and he said it was called whatever I wanted to call it. The place had no official name, no signage, nothing. He told me most of the regulars just called it the Bar. That worked for me and it fit the simple, no-frills ambience of the place. So did the primarily classic rock that rattled off the old sound system Brite kept behind the bar. Plus he said that when most of the regulars grumbled to their pissed-off spouses that they were headed to the Bar, the vagueness of the name offered them a little breathing room while the angry wives called around town looking for which bar exactly.

When I got there, I was surprised that there was already a line of older guys seated at the bar top. I was having to work really hard at not disappearing into a bottle every night, and seeing them was a stark reminder that I could very well be them if I didn’t get it together sooner rather than later. I didn’t want to be the lonely guy at the bar before noon, no one wondering where I was, no one concerned about my well-being, no place better to be or nothing better to do, with the bottom of a glass offering my only absolution. It didn’t escape my notice that a lot of Brite’s regular clientele, the guys that had been in here steadily since I wandered in a few days ago, were ex-military. The last thing I wanted was to become just one more … of anything.

The big man caught my eye from behind the bar and waved me over. I tried not to cringe when I had to walk over the lovely rust-colored stain that spread across the old wooden floor, courtesy of yours truly. I whipped my hat off, because even though we were from two different branches, and I probably outranked him in the reality of things, there was just something about Brite that demanded you show respect. I don’t know if it was the eyes, so dark and serious, or that epic beard, but I had enough years in the service to know when to show proper regard for a fellow serviceman.

I leaned up against the end of the bar. I figured that kept me from looking like the sorry sacks that were posted up at it, already three or four rounds in.

“Thanks again for watching the bike, and the run to the ER. I really do appreciate it. I wish you would let me pay you for the damages.”

I had more money in savings than I knew what to do with. I wasn’t married, there wasn’t a girlfriend, I didn’t have kids, or a house and a dog, so while I was deployed, all I had to cover was the Harley and my truck. I wasn’t a millionaire by any stretch of the imagination, but until I figured out what in the hell I was going to do with myself for the foreseeable future, I most definitely had enough stockpiled to live on comfortably. I could clean up the mess I made in the Bar and not even notice it was gone. Only Brite just shook his shaggy head, and that rueful grin split his beard.

“I don’t need your money, son.”

I lifted the eyebrow that was under the scar, it was the only one I could arch independently, so I did it a lot.

“No? Well, what did you mean when you said we could work something out?”

I had to wait as he was called to the other end of the bar by one of the patrons. It startled me to realize the new customer was probably only five years older than me. I also recognized the Army Ranger insignia tattooed on his bicep and felt a shiver of apprehension slide down my spine. I didn’t want to see myself in these guys, in this place, but it was getting harder and harder not to.

By the time Brite made his way back to me, I had given up the fight and propped myself up on an empty stool. My thoughts had drifted down a rather dark path, and I was having to struggle really hard to stay in the present. I wondered briefly if it showed on my face. I used to think I was pretty good at hiding all the turmoil that was crawling, saturating, filling me up from the inside out. After the blowup with Rule, and the way Brite was looking at me as he lumbered in my direction, I wasn’t so sure that was the case. I cleared my throat and forced myself to meet that charcoal gaze as he leaned on heavy forearms across from me.

“How handy are you?”

I tilted my head to the side and considered him in puzzlement. “What exactly do you mean by ‘handy’?” I mean I could break down pretty much any weapon you put in my hand and have it back together and firing in seconds, I could field-dress any number of injuries, I could tinker with the motor on the Harley and probably troubleshoot the basics of anything thrown at me. I was a problem solver by nature, but I wasn’t going to go out and build a house from the ground up or anything crazy like that.

He gave me that grin that I was starting to think meant the guy had something up his sleeve.

“You’re a guy with plenty of time on his hands and I’m a guy with a bar in serious need of some TLC. I already spend too much time here and I have no desire to be stripping floors and refinishing this bar top at my age. You bled all over it, you can fix it.”

We stared at each other in a tense silence for a long time. I was trying to figure out if he was serious and I think he was waiting to see if I was going to waffle or not. Finally I had to blink, so I leaned back in the stool with a sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to come regulate, like watch the door for you for a few weeks or something? Then no one would have to worry about bleeding on the floor in the first place.”

He barked out a laugh that made me cringe.

“No offense, son, but last time you were in a scuffle in here, you were the one that had to get dragged to the doc.”

I made a face and tried not to let the truth of it sting my already wounded pride. “I was drunk, and outnumbered.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a bouncer. I need a helping hand, someone I can trust, and someone that can be in here and not judge, because maybe, just maybe, he sees a little bit of himself in some of the regulars.”

It took every single fiber of self-control I had not to react to his dead-on assessment of how I was feeling. I had to fight not to fidget but to just sit still and try and think of any good excuse not to do what he was asking me to do. When nothing came to mind, it made that dark place I was hovering on get just a little bit wider.

Not even six months ago I was in charge of over a hundred men. I planned clandestine missions, I was the go-to guy for all the answers and solutions, and none of that translated to any kind of goddamn real-world job experience. I indeed had way too much free time on my hands and no end in sight for it. It made my head hurt and my heart speed up a little in my chest, so I cleared my throat and told Brite thanks when he set a glass of water down in front of me.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather me write you a check?”

He shook his head and that grin I was really starting to mistrust broke through once again.

“Nope. I don’t need your cash, I need you.”

Seeing that there really was no way around it if I wanted to be a man of my word, I nodded solemnly. I wanted to show this burly man who I respected without question, because I felt like we were kindred spirits, that I might not know where I was going or what I was doing but I still had more honor than one man needed in this lifetime.

“All right. I can do what you need me to do. How long do you think it’ll all take?”

He laughed long and hard, so hard that some of the other regulars looked our way in curiosity. I didn’t see why it was funny but I kept my mouth shut.

“As long as it takes, son.”

That seemed vague and open-ended, but before I could make him hammer down a more definitive time frame, he slapped his meaty hands down on the bar in front of me and leaned across the wooden expanse so that we were eye to eye. It was unnerving to have those dark eyes peer so intently into my own, but I immediately understood that whatever he was going to follow up with was to be taken seriously. This was without a doubt Brite’s I’m serious as hell face.

“No drinking while you’re working. I mean it.”

I frowned a little. “Okay.”

“I’m serious, Rome. I know firsthand how easy it can be to lose track of what it’s like trying to live outside the bottle. What you do in your free time is of no concern to me, you want to pickle your liver that’s your choice to make, but while you’re here, I won’t watch another good man go down.”

“Weren’t you the one pouring me endless shots of Wild Turkey the other night?” I would rather have all my teeth removed from my head by rusty pliers than admit how often a bottle of Belvedere was putting me to bed these days.

“It was the Fourth; every soldier should be allowed to celebrate what they have given up to support freedom, no matter how long ago that victory was.”

I considered him carefully, but couldn’t fault him his reasoning, so I just shrugged.

“All right, I don’t think that should be a problem.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

Jeez, this guy sounded like the very first drill sergeant I had when I enlisted.

“Okay, Brite, it won’t be a problem.”

His teeth appeared through the tangle of facial hair again and he smacked his palms flat on the bar.

“Excellent. You’ll meet the rest of the gang eventually as we go along. The Sons of Sorrow haven’t been back in, but if they come, I’ll have a talk with the chapter president and let him know he better rein his prospects in. I don’t mind a fistfight here or there, it gives the place character and keeps things interesting, but I have a hard-and-fast rule and no one, and I mean no one, touches servicemen or women when they’re in here. Everyone knows that.”

I laughed a little and climbed to my feet.

“It’s the American Legion.”

Brite laughed with me and picked up a bar towel. “Civilian life can be a real bitch to settle back into, sometimes it helps to have a place that feels more familiar. That’s what the Bar is all about, son.”

Since I was feeling so adrift myself, I had to admit what he was talking about sounded not only nice but also particularly necessary. I slapped my ball cap back on my head and shook Brite’s hand. I agreed that I would be back tomorrow when he opened the doors at ten in the morning. I wasn’t exactly excited about it, but it was the first time since I got back to the States that I actually had someplace to be. And that felt more right than anything had in a long time.

I would’ve gotten up early the next morning, but considering I was sleeping fitfully at best, I was wide-awake already when my alarm went off at eight. Since Nash normally didn’t have to go into work until noon, we usually tried to hit up the gym before he went in—that is, if he made it home from wherever he spent the night before. I think he felt bad for me, because while he and Rule had a pretty lax gym ritual they usually adhered to, I went every morning, and since I’d moved in he had managed to trudge along or at least made the effort to try. I needed the gym to work out the things chasing me in my subconscious, and even if I didn’t feel like a warrior anymore, at least I could still look like one. Besides, I was just too big; if I didn’t go to the gym, I would turn into a blob of a man in no time flat, especially since I was no longer out running PT and ops with kids ten years younger than me on the regular.

I was rubbing my eyes and making coffee when Nash’s bedroom door opened. I never knew if it was going to be him coming out or some dewy-eyed young thing that looked like she had been through the sex spin cycle. Nash and my brother both had a way about them that drew attention from the opposite sex in a way I just never really understood. Not that I lived like a choirboy in my youth, but I had never been the kind of guy who wanted quantity over quality. That made my momentary lapse with the trashy redhead even more stupid. Man, maybe I really did deserve having my ass kicked the other night.

Nash was flying solo this morning, which was unusual. He was pulling a T-shirt on over his head and muttering a few swearwords under his breath. I handed him a cup of coffee and asked him what was wrong.

He just shook his head and cracked his neck.

“I’m trying to get my uncle to go to the doctor and he’s being stubborn. Cora called after work last night saying he sounds like he’s hacking up a lung and looks pale. He’s insisting that it’s just a cold, but even over the phone I can tell he sounds terrible.”

I knew they were really close. Uncle Phil had raised Nash and been more of a parent to Rule than my own folks. I didn’t know much about the man, but by all accounts he was a real stand-up guy and I knew the guys held him in really high regard.

“Maybe it really is just a bad cold.”

Nash nodded and pointed at the half-smoked pack of cigarettes he had abandoned on the counter.

“I picked up the habit from him when I was younger. It makes me nervous.”

“Then quit.”

“I’m trying.”

I snatched the pack of the counter and tossed it in the sink. Nash hollered my name and swore at me as I turned on the garbage disposal.

“Try harder.”

He glared at me. “You’re a douche bag.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” I rolled my heavy shoulders and popped my knuckles.

“You ready to do this?”

He was still scowling at me. “No. I’m gonna swing by his place and see if I can harass him into getting a checkup, at the very least. Plus I have an early appointment.”

“All right.”

We said good-bye and I headed to the gym. I worked out harder than I had in a while, I think I was trying to burn out the memories, sweat out the coil of dread and unease that always felt like it sat in my stomach. I was sore and worn out by the time I showered and changed into an old pair of jeans and a faded tee with the word ARMY stenciled on the front. I opted to take my pickup in today since I was already dragging and didn’t feel up to muscling the Harley through downtown traffic.

When I got into the bar Brite was already waiting with a list and a huge-ass BLT. It was too early for lunch, but considering the beating I had just put my body through, it was welcome. We chitchatted for a few minutes, he introduced me to his cook, a lady who was about the same age as him named Darcy, who apparently was also wife number two, and he ran down the list of the regulars that my too tired brain tried to process sluggishly.

The list of tasks he handed over was impressive. He wanted the bar stripped, stained, and varnished. He wanted all the tables and chairs tightened and cleaned up. He wanted the battered wood floors stripped, sanded, and refinished. He wanted all the heavy kitchen equipment moved and the whole joint power-washed. He wanted all the lights changed out. He wanted the entire place primed and painted. He wanted me to build a stage. He wanted me to reorganize the liquor stock room, including adding new shelving and storage. It was all stuff that was fairly easy and mindless, nothing I didn’t think I could handle. In fact I was arrogant enough to think I could knock it all out in a couple of weeks.

It took two days for me to realize I was going to be at the Bar forever. Every time I would get started on a particular project, one of the grizzled veterans would wander over and I would find myself stuck in a conversation about the best way to do it, or how they would do it, or what I was doing, who I was, where I was from, my rank and designation, which inevitably led to talk about the military and endless amounts of war stories. Before I knew it, the day had come and gone and I hadn’t accomplished much of anything. I mentioned it to Brite and he just shrugged it off and told me once again that it would be done when it was done, like I had all the time in the world. Like I didn’t need to figure out what in the world I was going to be now that I was a grown-up and no longer in the army. I tried not to let it rub me the wrong way.

It was late Friday night, or rather super early Saturday morning and I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. I was making a conscious effort not to use vodka as a sleep aid, but tonight I was regretting it. Luckily Nash hadn’t been home, because this nightmare, when it woke me up, was violent enough that my own screaming had jolted me awake. I was sweating and shaking and getting a drink sounded awesome. I didn’t do it, though, I just lay there and let the images that had been too harsh to sleep through roll endlessly through my head. I knew logically that if they didn’t go away, I was going to have to get help, that I probably had bits and pieces of PTSD courtesy of the desert and too many years at war. I wanted to think I was tough enough to handle it on my own, that it would just fade away with enough time, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I swung my legs out of the bed, thinking a nice predawn run would get my shit back on straight, when my cell phone suddenly rang from the desk where I had it on the charger. Icy fingers of dread raked down my back. Early-morning calls like this never led to anything good. It rang four times and was going to get sent to voice mail before I talked myself out of being scared enough to answer it. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was long and the connection was barely audible and broken, so I knew immediately that it was coming from overseas.

“Hello?”

“Master Sergeant?” I barked out a bitter laugh and propped myself on the edge of the bed. I noticed absently that my hands were shaking.

“Not anymore. What’s up, Church?”

Dash Churchill was my sergeant first class, and I recognized his slow Mississippi drawl even across the bad connection and with my mind being sleep-deprived. We had moved up the ranks together and served in the same unit for the last six years. We were soldiers first and friends second, but I trusted him implicitly and knew that if he was calling with no consideration to the time change and the fact I was no longer his commanding officer, then shit had to be bad.

All I could make out was a garbled bunch of words, stuff like “bad intel,” stuff like “FUBAR mission,” things like “outgunned” and “hidden explosives.” I heard “insurgents” and “loss of life” and my brain went haywire. I went immediately into commando mode, trying to get him to give me just the pertinent details, only to get shut down by things like it being classified and on a need-to-know basis.

I swore at him and had to refrain from throwing my phone at the wall. With gritted teeth I asked why he called if he wasn’t going to tell me anything. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I could feel each thump, each beat in every tip of my fingers.

“Three KIA, four in serious condition getting airlifted to Germany. They were ours, just thought you would want to know.”

The line went dead and I let the phone fall from numb fingers. I put my head in my hands and tried to stop myself from freaking out. I wasn’t in anymore, they weren’t my men anymore, it wasn’t my mission anymore, but none of it seemed to matter. If they were in my unit then I knew two things: they were too young to be dead, and if I hadn’t been such a mess, both physically and mentally, maybe I could have stuck around and prevented it.

I couldn’t stay in this house. I couldn’t be alone with just my wayward thoughts for company, so I changed into track pants, put in my earbuds, and went running. It was either that or cash the bottle of vodka and be useless the rest of the day. I ran until I couldn’t see the blood and bodies anymore. I ran until my muscles burned and my lungs felt like they were turned inside out. I ran until there was so much sweat on my face no one could notice the moisture building in my eyes was anything but exertion. I ran until my heart thudded and hurt for another, more tangible reason.

When I got back to the Victorian, I took my time in the shower and contemplated calling Brite to tell him I had zero motivation to be at the Bar today, but then the idea of just sitting alone in the apartment with silence and too much time freaked me out, so I forced myself to go. When I walked in I didn’t say anything to anyone or touch the sandwich Darcy had left for me. I was pretty sure my nasty mood was transmitting to anyone that crossed my path, because for the first time since I started spending time at the Bar, everyone gave me a wide berth. There was no chatting, no stories, just everyone looking at me suspiciously out of the corner of their eyes. Even Brite didn’t impart his sage wisdom on me today, he just left me to my own devices, which was nice, or possibly dangerous.

I was pulling the wood trim off one of the walls in the back. I was working on autopilot, my mind in a place so far away from this dank bar in Denver that I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. I put my hand on the wall and it landed on a missed finishing nail that was sticking out. It jabbed into the flesh of my palm, which was startling and hurt, but in no way deserved the reaction it got. I swore and threw the hammer I was using across the room. Unfortunately my anger added force to it and my aim sucked, so it smacked into one of the neon beer signs that decorated the wall and shattered the thing into a million pieces. I swore again and let my head fall forward like I just couldn’t hold it up anymore.

When a weighty hand fell on my shoulder, I didn’t have to look up to know it was Brite.

“You need the day off, son.” It wasn’t a question.

“Fucked-up mission. Too many KIA in my old unit. They were just kids, Brite. I shoulda been there.”

He sighed and hauled me toward the bar.

“No, you shouldn’t have been. That was your life then. Had you been there, you very well might have been one of the casualties. Now sit here, get drunk and feel shitty for a minute, but shake it off and live in the now. You got someone I can call for a ride?”

I shook my head but didn’t push away the double vodka and soda he put in front of me.

“You said no drinking while I was here.” I was still reeling and trying to get it together.

“Grief is a hard mistress to have, Rome. She eventually wants all you have to give her. Take a breather someplace you know is safe. All of us have been in your shoes, kid. I just want to make sure you have someone to take care of you later.”

I stared at the drink and blinked stupidly. I shoved my cell phone in his direction. “My brother. Call him when it’s time to go, he might be pissed but he’ll come and get me.”

Brite nodded and put the phone on the bar rail. I rubbed my tired eyes and looked at him to see if he maybe had some of the answers I so desperately needed.

“Does it ever get easier?” Life and death, before and after, then and now, I was just having such a hard time finding my footing. I felt like I was going to fall off a ledge and there would be no going back and the inevitable landing would be the end of me.

He sighed and reached across the bar to clap me on the shoulder.

“No, son, it doesn’t. You just eventually learn how to process it so that it doesn’t end up killing you.”

Well, that sucked. The vodka was cold and oh so welcome going down.

CHAPTER 5 Cora

I was cashing out the last client of the day and waving to Rowdy as he left when the shop phone rang. We always had late clients on Friday and Saturday night, so I wasn’t surprised by it, only I was alone in the shop because everyone else had taken off already. Nash swore up one side and down the other that Phil was actively avoiding him, so when his last client bailed on the appointment, he left early in order to ambush him at his house. Rule had jetted out early after getting a panicked call from Shaw. Something about the water heater leaking and the basement flooding. I never would have guessed Mr. Live By His Own Rules (pun intended) to be so concerned about home repair. Rowdy had stayed until his last client was done and all the other artists had left on time.

I didn’t recognize the number on the display, so I answered it a tad more professionally than I normally did.

“Thanks for calling the Marked, this is Cora. What can I do for you?”

A long pause followed and I heard noise and commotion in the background. I was going to say hello again and then hang up if there was no answer when a gruff voice came across the line.

“I’m looking for Rome Archer’s brother.”

A shiver of apprehension slid up my spine. “Why?”

Again I was met with silence that dragged on.

“Do I have the wrong number?” This guy sounded frustrated and like he meant business.

“Rule is Rome’s brother but he isn’t here right now. Can I take a message?”

There was a sigh. “I hate these new cell phones, I can’t ever figure out how they work. Is there another number where I can reach him?”

I wasn’t in the habit of handing the guys’ numbers out to anyone. If I did that I would have a line of desperate girls stretching from here to Coors Field.

“Can you tell me what it’s regarding? I’m friends with both of them.” It was stretching the truth a little but I didn’t feel too bad about it.

“The big guy is having a pretty bad day. He needs a ride home and I thought his brother would be the best candidate for that particular job today.”

I frowned and tapped my fingernails on the counter. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

The guy laughed. “Darlin’, I don’t think you can really understand just how bad a day it was. I can put him in a cab, but I can’t take him myself because it’s tournament night and the Bar is packed. But I need to see that he gets home safe and sound.”

I puffed out a breath that sent wispy strands of short hair floating over my forehead. Rule would go get him if I called him, so would Nash, but there was already enough tension between those guys that I figured I would just take care of it myself and save everyone a headache.

“I’ll come get him and see that he gets home in one piece.”

“Ahh … no offense, darlin’, but that is whole lot of unwieldy soldier in a piss-poor mood and three sheets to the wind. You might wanna let the brother handle this one.”

I wasn’t a girl who backed down from a challenge, and Rome Archer drunk and grumpy seemed to be his default anyway. I wasn’t scared of him. Plus it always galled me being told I couldn’t do something just because I was a girl.

“I have to do a bank drop and I’ll come get him. Where is he at?”

The gruff voice gave me directions to a bar located off the beaten path down on Broadway. He once again mentioned I might need physical help trying to maneuver all the intoxicated bulk that was Rome out of the bar. I shook my head in disgust and told him I was just going to have to figure out how to fit the giant into my Mini Cooper. The guy laughed so hard that I thought he was going to hurt himself. When he finally stopped he told me that he had long since hijacked Rome’s keys and he would just help me pour him into his own truck. After I got him home I could come back for the Cooper. It sounded like the best plan, even though I would have loved to have a picture of all that brawn crammed in my little car. It would have been hilarious.

In the time it took me to do the deposit for the shop, find the bar, find a place to park, and find the front door since there wasn’t any kind of sign, or door guy, or any indication of where I was going, Rome’s condition had apparently gone from bad to worse. He was actually slumped on the bar, his head hung low like his neck couldn’t hold it up anymore, and the dim light was casting dark shadows on his face. He looked terrible and tired, and most definitely wasted. His pretty eyes were open only half-mast, watery and bloodshot. His mouth was twisted in an ugly frown and even though the air-conditioning was on, I could see a thin film of sweat covering his skin. His big, battle-scarred hands were shaking where he was holding an empty tumbler between them, and it looked like he was having an argument with the huge bearded man behind the bar.

I carefully walked up behind him and caught the eye of the guy who looked like he had given birth to every Hells Angel ever to walk the earth.

“Hi, I’m Cora.”

The guy gave me a quick once-over and lifted an unruly eyebrow. “Tiny little thing, aren’t ya?”

I was actually two inches taller than Shaw, but since I didn’t have half of her curves, I think I looked a lot smaller and more delicate than I actually was. I lifted a shoulder and let it fall.

Rome turned on the stool and I saw his eyes widen and then try and focus on me. I wasn’t sure he recognized me at first, but then the blue lit up like the base of a flame and a drunken and sloppy grin spilled across his face. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the scar on his forehead, because he was lethal when he smiled like that and I knew he wasn’t in his right mind at the moment. That slight imperfection made me remember exactly who I was dealing with, Captain No-Fun, not flirty-fun-drunk Rome.

“Rule had an emergency at the house, so I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

“Where’s Rule?”

At least I think that’s what he asked, but it sounded like his tongue was too big for his mouth. I put a hand on his arm as he leaned toward me and almost toppled off the stool.

“He had something to take care of. So you’re stuck with me.”

He lumbered to his feet and I thought I was going to get dragged down with him. Luckily he seemed to have pretty good balance even when he was hammered because he caught himself on the bar and blinked those killer baby blues at me.

“I’m so tired.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what he was talking about and peered around him at the burly bartender who was watching us with serious, dark eyes.

“I know. I’m gonna get you home and put you to bed.” Man, that shouldn’t sound nearly as appealing as it did. I needed to stay away from this guy. He made my head go wonky.

“You need a hand getting him to the truck?”

I shook my head and hooked a hand around his lean waist and tried not to wince as he leaned all that considerable weight onto my side.

“If I can’t get him in on my own, there is no way I’m getting him out on my own.” I took the keys he brought me and gave Rome a little nudge with my hip. “Let’s go, Goliath.”

“If he’s functional tomorrow, let him know he has the day off.”

“What happened to get him in this state?”

The guy shook his head and stroked a hand over what was seriously the most awesome beard I had ever seen.

“Life happened, darlin’. Sometimes it just gets the better of us is all. Take care of that boy, he needs someone, too, especially right now.”

I was going to answer that I took care of all my boys, but I never got the chance because Rome chose that moment to lurch toward the door. He put a thick arm around my shoulders, pulled me so that I was pressed flat against his chest, and buried his nose in the short hair on the top of my head. He awkwardly marched me backward while he struggled to stay upright and headed for the parking lot.

“You smell good.”

Typically when I got off work I smelled like antiseptic and all the cleaners used to keep the shop sterile and safe. I had to wiggle free enough to breathe, but since Rome was going in the right direction and seemed steady enough on his feet, I didn’t make him let me go. I tried to subtly steer him toward the shiny red Dodge that the bartender had indicated was his, but he suddenly stopped and stared intently down at me.

“You really do have the prettiest eyes.”

I cleared my throat and tried not to blush since I had never really been the blushing type.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

His words were still hard to understand, but the way the blue in his eyes was glowing wasn’t. I was hardheaded to a fault, but I wasn’t going to deny I thought he was hot, I mean I was only human and there was something about all that plain, old-fashioned beefcake that was hard to ignore. But I was surprised that he seemed to return the sentiment. I didn’t for one second think I was any more his type than he was mine.

We stumbled, half stepped, and shuffled to the truck. It took some maneuvering and some wiggling on my part to get him to let me go and get him to climb up into the monstrous vehicle. I closed the door on him as he was humming an awful rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” and closed my eyes for a second. I had plenty of experience dealing with moody, drunken boys—Rule was a pro at being a handful after too many cocktails—but there was something about the abject sadness, the visible sorrow hanging around in those azure eyes that made Rome just a little trickier to handle. I had an inkling that he could go from malleable and sloppy to really difficult in a heartbeat.

The truck was big and I had to slide the seat up as close to the steering wheel as it would go. I was lucky it was a newer model, because there was no way I would have been able to reach the pedals if had been one of the old-style bench seats. It was also an automatic, which was nice since I hadn’t had to drive a stick in forever.

I glanced over at my passenger and found him slumped over so that his head was resting on the window. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I was going to take him to the Victorian and have Nash help me wrestle him inside, when his voice cracked out from someplace so deep and dark it gave me goose bumps when it whispered across my skin.

“Do you ever wonder ‘why you’?”

I frowned at him and shot Nash a text to see if he was home.

“Why me what?” I didn’t understand what he was rambling about and his eyes were still closed, so I wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t talking in his sleep.

“Why am I the one still here? Why was I the only one to walk away? Why did I dodge one bullet only to end up useless and unnecessary anymore? Whose plan was that? Why was I someone Remy couldn’t tell? Why didn’t he trust me? Why? Shouldn’t there be a point to it all?”

It was incoherent for the most part but the sentiment behind it was heartbreaking and shouldn’t be coming from someone so vital and thrumming with life. I didn’t really have a working understanding of how survivor’s guilt affected a man that had seen so much, but in Rome’s case it seemed to be eating him alive.

“That is probably a conversation you should have with a professional and maybe not when you tried to drink your liver into submission.”

“People die every day that shouldn’t die. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. There should be some kind of rhyme or reason to it.” But there wasn’t, and when he was sober he had to know that, didn’t he?

My phone dinged at me and I had to wait until I stopped at a stop sign to check the message. I swore softly because Nash wasn’t home and had no plans on returning. I didn’t want to bug Rule, not to mention he wasn’t the most sensitive of guys and there was no way Rome was in any state to be left to his own devices. I was just gonna have to take him to my house and put him on the couch until he sobered up. Jet was on the road and Ayden was working late, so that meant I was only going to have to deal with a million questions and speculative looks from Asa.

“A lot of bad things happen every day that shouldn’t happen. Unfortunately it’s part of life.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

I looked back over at him and noticed those bright eyes were wide open and focused on my face. It was unnerving to be the target of such intense scrutiny.

“Maybe not. Hey, I’m just gonna take you to my place for a minute. I’ll let you catch a quick nap and put some food in you and you can run me back to my car when you’re back at full operating power. Okay?”

His eyes slid back shut and his broad shoulders rose and fell like he couldn’t care less. I hated to admit that I was worried about him, but whatever blanket of despair he had wrapped himself up in, it was thick and it was fibrous and I could almost feel the weight of it suffocating him.

We made it to Washington Park, where the cute little house I shared with the gang was located. I thought Rome might have finally settled in to sleep for real, but as soon as the motor of the big ol’ truck shut off, his eyes popped open and he was once again staring at me fixedly in the dim interior of the cab.

“Why did you come get me?”

I fiddled with the key and pushed open the door. “Because I love your brother and he loves you and I want to keep it that way. I’m much better at dealing with something like this than he is.”

“Something like what?”

He managed to get his own door open, but I heard him mutter a string of swearwords and a loud thud as he lost his balance and fell against the fender of the truck. I sighed and walked around to collect him.

“Something like a guy who is clearly hurting and lashing out at those that are closest to him because he knows they’ll take it. We can go as many rounds as you want, Captain No-Fun, you don’t scare me.”

The uneasy way he made me feel did scare me but no one needed to know that. On the outside I was always rock solid, no one knew that on the inside I struggled every day with the holes left in me from not getting my perfectly planned future and happy-ever-after after Jimmy left. Growing up primarily on my own had sucked. I thought with Jimmy I would never have to be untethered again. Once that security had gone away, I knew there was no way I could risk my heart and dreams on someone who wasn’t ready to offer me forever, stability, and family ever again.

He blinked his eyes at me and we had a stare-down; for a second I wasn’t sure if he was going to scoop me up or push me down. Instead he just shook his head and whispered so quietly that I thought it could have been my imagination had I not seen his lips move, “That’s good, because most of the time I’m fucking scared shitless of myself.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I took his rock-hard arm and half tugged, half guided him into the house. Asa was propped up on the sofa doing something on the computer and I could have sworn a look of guilt flashed quickly over his face. He gave me and my unwanted guest a questioning look and went to lumber to his feet. I waved him back down and kept tugging Rome across the living room, past the kitchen, to where the master bedroom was located.

“Don’t get up. I’ll put him in my room in case all that booze tries to come back up and he needs the bathroom close by. He just needs a little nap.”

Both blond eyebrows went up. “He couldn’t have taken one at his house?”

“Not now, Asa.”

Rome stumbled and knocked a picture of me and the guys at the shop off the wall. I was fast enough to catch it before it hit the floor, but not strong enough to keep him upright as he toppled into the open doorway of my room. Luckily it was an older house and the room wasn’t giant, so he half hit the king-sized bed. It took a little bit of work, some tugging and pulling, some swearing and grumbling, to get that big body spread across hot-pink comforter. He was breathing hard, his eyes slid closed, and I didn’t bother to try and make him any more comfortable or tell him where the facilities were. I just left him alone, figuring sleep was the best thing for him.

Asa was right where I left him, only now the computer was closed and he looked like he was waiting for me to come back into the room.

“What’s that all about?”

I groaned and sank down on the couch next to him.

“He was at a bar and the bartender called the shop looking for Rule. I decided to intervene since they just started working toward a cease-fire, only I had no idea what kind of drunk he was gonna be.”

“What kind of drunk is that?”

“Complicated. I’m just gonna let him get straight and then send him on his way. He looks like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days; hopefully the booze will knock him out for a few and then he can go home.”

“You’re a really good girl, Cora.”

“I have my moments. What were you doing on the computer when we came in?”

Those eyes the color of aged bourbon glinted at me. Asa was lucky he was such an easy guy to like, because I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, or even as far as Rome could throw him.

“Nothing. Just checking up on some things.”

“Things that ended you up in the hospital? Ayden will murder you.”

He laughed. “No. I’m not the sharpest tool out in the shed, but I do eventually learn the hard lessons.”

“Why do I think that might not really be the case?”

“Because you are surprisingly smart for someone that looks like a living, breathing cartoon character.”

I got the feeling he wasn’t going to give me anything else, so I got up and made us some grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and brought us over a couple of beers. I liked hanging out with Asa, but he seemed a little sketchy tonight, and by the time midnight rolled around with no sound or motion from Rome, I was getting tired and bored of dealing with difficult men. Asa mentioned he was going to go watch TV in his room, because if he was up when Ayden got home, she was going to harass him about whatever it was she was on his case about this week. She tended to be a bit of a terror when Jet was out of town for more than a few days at a time, and her older sibling bore the brunt of it. I knew she didn’t want to live alone since Jet spent so much time on the road, but dealing with the intense dynamic between the siblings was often like watching a reality TV show without the relief of commercial interruption.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to let Rome keep my bed for the night while I crashed on the couch. I was small and the couch was huge, so it wasn’t like it would be a major inconvenience. I did, however, need to sneak into my bathroom and grab a quick shower to wash the workday off.

Asa and I said good night and I tiptoed into the darkened room. At some point in his fitful stage of blacking out, Rome had managed to not only move to the center of the bed, but also kick off his boots and strip off his T-shirt. Even though I knew it was wrong, I had to just stand there and stare at all that skin on display, spread out over my pink bed set. It was so odd. He was all hard muscle and male perfection amid a totally girly and ultrafeminine backdrop. It would take a guy like Rome Archer to make all my girly stuff look tough.

He had one long arm flung out to the side and the other curled up behind his head. The lines delineating muscles and tendons used to hard and strenuous work made my mouth water. I felt like a voyeur. I shouldn’t be blatantly checking him out while he was passed out and unaware, but I also couldn’t muster the strength to look away. I had never seen a real-life, living breathing male that had that vee that cut between their hips and pointed downward, where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. The only men that really had that in life were underwear models, dudes on romance novel covers, and maybe professional athletes. But oh no, Rome Archer had it, as well as abs that put a six-pack to shame and endless amounts of lightly tanned skin that stretched over a canvas that looked like it was carved from stone. He was a massive example of all that was beautiful and male. He was built like a god, and I didn’t want to acknowledge it but I had never, ever seen anything look better in my bed.

He also had way more pale white scar tissue dotting that landscape of total hotness than I wanted to know about. Even with the only light filtering in from the hallway, I could see the huge scar on his shoulder where his arm was bent up under his head. It was puckered and was wider than my hand; it looked like it still hurt. He had an ugly red welt all along the opposite side on his ribs that was about ten inches long and looked like it was healing. There was a nasty white line that zigged and zagged under his belly button and disappeared into the top of his jeans and that was only what I could see on his very impressive front side.

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