Worn Me Down (Playing With Fire, #3) (2 page)

It would take a pretty strong woman to put up with a guy like me and the kind of job I have, which is why it’s always easy to sneak out the morning after and never call them again – I haven’t met any woman who could fit that bill. I’m a Navy SEAL for life. I can get a call in the middle of the night and be in another country with a gun in my hand and an insurgent in my crosshairs before the little missus even had her first cup of coffee. I live and breathe the job. It’s what I was made to do and even though some of the missions have left me with scars, physically and mentally that I’ll never be able to remove, I still love every second of it. I love the thrill, I love the unknown and I love the danger. I go into each mission knowing full well I might not come home, like so many of my SEAL brothers. There isn’t a woman alive who would understand that dedication and the need I have to take such dangerous chances with my life.

I’ve never had a family so it’s not like I know what I’m missing. To put it nicely, my mother was a whore. She tried to raise me on her own, since she had no idea which one of the many loser men in her life were my father, but after five years she realized that having a child interfered with her partying. She handed me over to the state and I never saw her again. I was passed around from foster home to foster home, each one slightly worse than the last, until I was eighteen years old. Knowing I had no other choice, I immediately enlisted in the Navy and I’ve never looked back. I never had parents with a wonderful marriage to look up to and I never had siblings to connect with. I have my SEAL brothers and that’s all that matters. Even if I were the type of guy to settle down, I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with a wife and kids anyway.

As I drive through downtown Nashville, I wonder if the Ice Queen has melted a little bit since the last time I saw her. When I said I knew Brady had a sister, that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge of her until I met her a month ago. Brady was never the type of guy who opened up about himself or his family life. I knew she existed and I knew she was younger than him. I knew he came from a really well off family and that like me, as soon as he turned eighteen, he got the hell out of there. Since Gwen was younger, she stayed behind and up until recently, he hadn’t spoken to her much. Brady never talked about his reasons for leaving all that wealth behind and I never asked. Every man has a few skeletons in his closet and sometimes, those little bastards need to stay right where they are.

Then, I talked to Gwen on the phone and got to meet her in person while I helped to track down the mad man who took Layla. I’m not used to a chick practically hating me on sight, but that’s how it went down. We spent a few days together before and after Layla was taken and I’m surprised you can’t still see the stab wounds her damn attitude left on my ego. So why the hell am I more excited about this assignment than the one we did two years ago when we shut down a drug smuggling ring in Cuba? Good question. Call me a glutton for punishment.

At the mention of Gwen having some “personal things” going on her life, I immediately wondered what the fuck she could possibly have going on. The only thing I know about her is that she suddenly showed up in Brady’s life again a few months ago, has been living with him at his apartment and working for him at his PI agency. The little time I spent with her tracking down Layla proved she was determined and hard working. It also proved that everything I said or did bugged the shit out of her.

Pulling the rental car up in front of Brady’s office, I smile to myself as I get out and make my way up to the glass door. Gwen is not going to be happy to see me at all, especially knowing her brother called me and thinks she needs a keeper. I can already imagine the smoke coming out of her ears and the curses flying from her mouth.

With a cocky smile firmly in place, I pull open the door and saunter in.

Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.

Gwen

H
anging up the phone,
I make some notes about a new case on the legal pad in front of me. It’s weird being here in the office alone, but it feels good. It’s nice to know my brother trusts me to handle his business while he’s touring the country with Layla. He was hesitant to leave me alone, especially when I told him I had finally bitten the bullet and filed for divorce. After a few weeks with nothing but positive news from my lawyer that William isn’t contesting anything and that he’s being very cooperative, I shoved Brady out the door and assured him I would call if there were any problems.

The bell dings above the front door and I don’t look up from my notes, but I do glance at the clock on the desk phone. One of our regular clients, Allison Kinter, was supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago for a follow-up meeting. I can’t stand the woman. Every other week she’s in here complaining that her husband is cheating on her. And every other week, we find absolutely nothing to support that claim, much to her annoyance. She’s pushy, condescending and reminds me too much of my mother.

“You’re late,” I state in annoyance, scribbling one last thing on the page.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. If I would have known you were sitting here anxiously awaiting my arrival I would have got here earlier.”

My head whips up at the sound of the gravely, masculine voice with a tiny hint of southern drawl that under normal circumstances would make my insides melt. Unfortunately, that voice belongs to a man whose ego far outweighs his good looks. Southern gentleman he is not.

“Get out,” I demand, standing up from my chair and crossing my arms in front of me.

Austin perches his hip on the edge of my desk and smiles at me. “Now, don’t be like that. I know you’ve missed me.”

I roll my eyes at his audacity. It’s really sad that a man this good looking is such a pompous ass. He’s easily six-foot-three and two hundred pounds of athletic muscle. His sandy brown hair is cut military short and his bright blue eyes sparkle as he smiles at me.

“I’ve missed you just about as much as I’ve missed chlamydia,” I state dryly.

He laughs and looks away from me, flipping through some of the files on top of my desk. I don’t know what it is about this man that turns me into such a bitch. Oh, wait, yes I do. I only spent three days with him a month ago, but I learned enough about him in those few days to make me want to stay far away from him. His blatant attempts at flirting and the charm he turns up so high it gives me a headache reeks of arrogance and a man used to always getting what he wants. I spent ten miserable years with a man like that and I’ll never make that same mistake again. William was charming and flirtatious too – until something set him off and my body became a punching bag.

Getting my head out of my ass, I pull my gaze away from the muscles flexing in the bicep of his arm he’s using to hold himself up on my desk. Reaching over, I smack his hand and gather up all of the files. I quickly shove them in my top drawer, slam it shut with a
bang
and glare at him.

What the hell is he doing here anyway? The last I heard from Brady, he jetted off in the middle of the night for some emergency mission and had no clue when he’d be back stateside. I kind of hoped after our few encounters that he would fall victim to a rabid camel attack in Siberia, or wherever the hell he went.

“Brady’s not here. You can go now.”

Turning away from him, I walk over to the small kitchen counter on the far side of the office and pour myself a much needed, strong cup of coffee.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not here to see Brady. I’m here for you.”

Just the way he says those words makes my gut clench. I’m not sure if it’s in annoyance or lust. Either idea pisses me off. My track record with men, well one man, is rife with misery and pain. Just the idea that I would want someone at all, especially someone like Austin Conrad, is enough to make me stack up a million more bricks into the solid wall I’ve already surrounded myself with. It’s absolutely absurd that I would find anything about him even remotely attractive.

Cradling the warm mug in my hand, I turn around and lean against the counter. “There’s no reason for you to be here for me. So, like I said, you can go now.”

Austin slides off of my desk, sticks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and casually walks up to me. He doesn’t stop until our toes are touching and I can smell just a hint of his spicy aftershave. The creases at the corners of his eyes stand out as he smiles down at me. If I could move away from him, I would. But as it is, the edge of the counter is already pressing harshly into my back. He’s too close, too large and he smells too good.

“Sorry, no can do. Your brother told me to look out for you while he’s gone, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

The anger rolls through me and I clench so tightly to the coffee mug that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand, dousing both of us in scalding hot liquid. So much for Brady trusting me to run the business and take care of myself.

“I don’t need you, or anyone to babysit me. I’m a grown ass woman and can handle things just fine on my own,” I tell him with barely concealed fury.

Austin leans in as close as he can with my hands holding the coffee cup between us. I can feel the heat from his body and I have to tamp down the need to drop the cup and touch him.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? This man is off limits, and not just because he’s a jerk.

“Oh believe me, it’s quite obvious just how grown you are,” he tells me quietly, his eyes traveling down the front of my body.

It’s disgusting and dirty. And it makes me weak in the knees.

God dammit, get a grip, Gwen!

Sliding along the edge of the counter, I move away from him and back to my desk. I need distance from this infuriating man. It’s impossible for him to be serious for one second.

“Brady is blindly in love and obviously wasn’t thinking straight when he called you. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him you stopped by. Now leave. I have work to do.”

I hear Austin sigh from behind me and hope that he’s finally gotten the hint that I don’t want him here. I mean really, do I need to spell it out for him? He needs to go away before I do something stupid. Signing those divorce papers lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders. Not having William track me down and threaten me like he would have done in the past has given me a false sense of security. It’s made me feel like I might finally be able to move forward and be happy again. Of course the first man I’ve had any real contact with since I left William in the middle of the night all those months ago, aside from my brother or a client, had to be this infuriating man who gets under my skin.

“Now Gwen, you know how much it turns me on when you’re so demanding,” Austin chuckles. “Let’s just call a truce here, okay? My best friend asked me for a favor and I never tell one of my brothers ‘no’. I’m in between missions and there’s nothing more I’d like than to keep an eye on you.”

Austin mirrors my earlier pose and leans his back against the edge of the counter, staring me down.

“Look, I get that you Navy SEALS are a determined bunch and that’s lovely, very helpful for people who actually need it. But you’re not needed or wanted here. End of story,” I tell him.

The teasing look in his eyes is immediately gone, replaced by a hint of annoyance.

“Listen, princess, I don’t know what kind of trivial shit you have going on in your life and frankly, I don’t care. But your brother seems to be worried about you. The work he does here can be dangerous. You should know that by now. Even though your attitude could cut a man off at the knees, a single, vulnerable woman like yourself doesn’t need to be within ten feet of danger.”

The fact that he called me
princess
is enough to raise my hackles, but then to add in the part about my ‘trivial shit’ pushes me over the edge. Single, vulnerable woman… are you kidding me? He has no fucking idea what my life has been like
or
the danger I’ve been around and survived. Without warning, a particularly chilling memory surfaces and my hands begin to shake.

I put on the finishing touches of my make-up and surveyed myself in the mirror. The little black dress William bought me the previous week fits me like a glove and shows off my curves. I’ve pulled my long, blonde hair up into a sleek twist, just the way he likes it. Glancing at the clock on our nightstand, I see that I’m ready in record time and hurry out of our bedroom and down the staircase. William and I haven’t had an evening out alone together in quite some time. Even though this is a work function for him, it’s still nice to get dressed up and go out on the town with my husband. He’d been so stressed at work and on edge since the baby was born, I think this will be good for us.

As I walk down off of the bottom step, William looked up from the table in the foyer where he sorted through the day’s mail. The smile on my face died when I saw the look in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked angrily.

I glanced nervously down at myself, checking to make sure I didn’t get any make-up powder on the front of the dress and that I wore matching shoes. Since I gave birth to Emma three months ago, I had been a little scatterbrained.

“It-it’s the dress you got me. Don’t you like it?” I questioned.

He tossed the mail down on top of the table and stalked over to me. “Your tits are hanging out. Do you want all of my colleagues to think you’re a whore? Jesus, it’s like you don’t even have a fucking brain sometimes.”

With a shaking hand, I reached up and pressed my palm over the miniscule bit of cleavage that can be seen peeking out from the top of the dress.

It’s always best not to say anything when William’s in one of his moods. I should know this by now, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know why he was so angry.

“I’m not showing that much. This dress is very conservative compared to what the other wives will be wearing.”

The punch to my stomach is quick and takes my breath away. Bending over, I clutched my hands around my middle and struggled to get air into my lungs while trying not to cry. William hated it when I cried.