Page 72

Brenton

THE RATTLE OF THE PHONEagainst the wooden side table drew my attention away from the Rangers game I watched while Beks napped. I’d glanced over at least half a dozen times in the past hour, smiling at the naked beauty beside me. Warmth bloomed in my gut each time.

How in the hell could I leave her?

If everyday life was like this, coming home to a woman like her, who accepted me no matter what internal battle I fought, maybe leaving the army wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

She'd already forgiven me for so much; maybe I'd be pressing my luck thinking she'd accept all sides of me. The soldier side of Brenton Graves, the recovering addict side. Beks only saw the stable side of the man she remembered. The rich civilian. Not the man who woke up at night drenched in sweat from near-death experiences, or woke up angry at the world when the ghosts of the men we lost as I flew them toward medical care haunted my dreams. Or the man who would stare at the bottle of bourbon for hours, fighting the persistent urge to take a sip.

Would she still want me if she saw all sides of Brenton Graves? The good and the terrible?

No, she didn't need to know those ugly sides of me.

Because then she'd see how broken I was. Not the strong, cocky, arrogant-as-hell man she believed.

What if telling her everything was the final straw? Could I handle the one woman I wanted more than life itself walking away?

Looking away, I snagged my phone and swiped the screen open.

Kyle:Bradley doesn't want you involved. Said he wouldn't give me the names of his suppliers.

Lips pressed into a thin line, I glanced to the still-sleeping Beks. I told her I'd handle it before I left. No way would that dumbass brother of hers stand in the way of protecting her.

Me:Give me his number.

Seconds later, Bradley's contact information flicked across the screen.

Me:Give me their names and information. Now. I won't allow those fuckers to be anywhere near my property.

Me:Don't give me that shit of you handling it. I saw you yesterday. You can barely fucking walk.

Me:Take the out I'm giving you.

Me:You won't like the alternative. From them. Or me.

Bradley:These fuckers are no joke, rich boy.

Bradley:I’ll set up the meet, but I'm not giving you their information.

Me:Fine. Set it up.

An inning later, the Rangers still down by five runs, my phone buzzed on the bed.

Bradley:Tonight. 1 a.m. I'll drop you a pin of the meeting location.

Bradley:Sure as hell hope you know what you're doing.

Me:You're welcome.

Bradley:They want cash.

Me:They'll get cash that I wire them. I'm not a fucking moron.

Me:And your sister stays out of this. I'll do the meet. You keep her busy.

Bradley:If you haven't fucking noticed, asshole, she has a mind of her own and is pretty damn smart. She'll figure out what you're doing behind her back and rip your balls off.

Bradley:I'm not kidding either. I've seen her castrate enough animals. She knows how to do it.