Alex (Striking Back #4) Read online

  Alex

  Striking Back: Book Four

  By

  S.M. Shade

  Copyright © 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Chapter One

  Alex

  Ninety- two days. Thirteen weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I lost my love, my best friend. This exact moment is the worst of my day. For a few fleeting seconds when I wake, all I feel are the soft sheets around me and the chill of the late December air.

  Sometimes, I even smile at the aroma of bacon frying before I open my eyes and get slammed with the truth. This isn’t our apartment and the man banging around in the kitchen isn’t Cooper. The realization is compounded by the empty space in my bed. It’s at this point, I want to cry or beat the hell out of the mattress with my fists and feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Occasionally, I do.

  Today, I’m distracted by Ian’s knuckles rapping on my door. “Get the fuck up. We’ve got shit to do.”

  “I’m sure you can handle it,” I call.

  The door pops open like I knew it would, and Ian flips on the overhead light. “Get up and eat. We’re hosting tonight, remember?”

  Right. It’s New Year’s Eve. My brothers and their women will all be here. With a frustrated sigh, I yank the covers off and get out of bed. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Ian Turner is one persistent son of a bitch.

  Sometimes I want to rip his head off, but I’m also grateful for him. He had just bought this huge fixer-upper of a house a week before I lost my boyfriend, Cooper. One glance at the pity on my brother’s faces and I accepted his offer to move in and help with the repairs. I couldn’t go back to the apartment Coop and I shared, and staying where my brothers and their women could fawn over me wasn’t a torture I was willing to accept or inflict on them.

  I can be a dick when I’m angry, and I’m angry pretty much all the time. It’s easier than being sad. Nothing I say or do seems to trouble Ian. Inscrutable and difficult to ruffle or unnerve, he’s kind of a weird guy. Women love him, even though he throws them away liked used tissue. Cooper was fond of him though, and I think he’d be glad I’m here. Ian hung with us a lot in the three months Cooper and I were together.

  His dark eyes size me up as I grab some clothes and a towel, trying to judge how I’m going to react this morning. I can’t blame him. Plenty of mornings have been witness to me shoving him out of my room while threatening his favorite appendage.

  Most days, I just need that nudge out of bed and I’m able to get on with my day, or at least be somewhat productive. My brothers and I run a domestic violence shelter called Striking Back, in addition to Reed’s Gym, and they need me to get back to work. “Quit staring at my ass and let me shower,” I grumble, walking past him to shut myself in the bathroom. Hot water invigorates me and I start to pull myself out of the dark mood morning always brings. Preparing for a party is as good a way to spend the day as any.

  A platter of bacon sits on the kitchen counter as usual. Ian is a complete bacon addict. I swear his arteries must be clogged with grease. “Just bacon?” I ask, as he steps in from the back deck.

  “Bacon sandwich,” he replies with a shrug.

  I knock the loaf of bread out of his hand and push him toward the table. “I’ll make something.”

  “Waffles?” I’m sure his little grin gets him what he wants from ladies, but I’m unaffected. Mostly.

  “Eggs and fruit. I swear you eat like a teenager.”

  “Says the guy who’d sleep all day like a teenager if he could.”

  “And you’d be free to gorge on bacon until grease seeps from your pores.”

  Pretending to think it over, he shakes his head. “Still wouldn’t be as fun as annoying you.”

  Pouring the scrambled eggs into a skillet, I reply, “You realize how easy it’d be to spit in your eggs?”

  “Thanks, but I’m not into that. Coffee?” he offers, producing two mugs.

  “Sure, I need some caffeine. It’s hard to sleep with a steam whistle blowing in the middle of the night.”

  I can’t help but smile when Ian’s laughter fills the kitchen. “You should’ve heard it in my room. Woman almost shattered my eardrums. There was no way I was going to get her off a second time with that ear piercing bullshit. Never again.”

  With a snort, I set our loaded plates on the table. “Like you ever do them again.”

  “You should follow my example. Find a willing ass for a night and relieve some tension.” A second of silence passes before he looks at me and adds in a sympathetic voice, “It might help.”

  “I’m not the fuck and chuck type. I like to know who I’m sticking it to, and I’m not ready to get to know someone new.”

  “Are you ready to get to know the vacuum cleaner?” That’s one thing I appreciate about Ian. He knows when to stop pushing and change the subject.

  After loading the dishwasher, Ian grabs his tool box. “Arthur’s sink is clogged. After I take care of that, I’ll hit the liquor store. Any requests?”

  “Rolling papers.”

  “Stoner.”

  “Manwhore.”

  “Back in a few,” he calls, the door squeaking shut behind him.

  I really should oil that. I was never the handyman type, but since Ian and I have started learning DIY, I’ve learned to enjoy working with my hands. He bought this house on a whim, hoping to flip it for some cash and invest the profit, but the more we work on it, the more I’ve watched him fall in love with the place. Plus, there’s Art. The house is a duplex, divided down the middle, and Arthur lives in the other side. He’s over sixty and has lived there for years. Ian would never have the heart to put him out.

  Cranking up the new Imagine Dragons album, I turn to cleaning the house. At least we don’t have to cook. Ms. Den, the housemother at Striking Back, will probably bring enough food for an apocalypse. Plus, I’ve arranged for pizza delivery and Everly, my brother’s wife, is sure to bring a bunch of junk food. As if she heard her name in my thoughts, Everly rings my phone and as usual, I have to search the house before locating it between the couch cushions.

  “Hey, Alex,” she chirps when I finally hit accept. “Lose your phone again?”

  “I was cleaning. What’s up, girly?”

  “I’m not girly,” she answers automatically before continuing. “Look, I have a friend I’d like to invite tonight, but I wanted to make sure it’s okay.”

  Not again. I put her on speaker and go on sweeping the kitchen. “Would this friend happen to be a single gay man looking for a happily ever after?”

  “Well, he’s gay, but that’s a total coincidence.”

  “Uh-huh.” I can hear my brother Mason’s voice rumble in the background. “Put me on speaker, Ev.” When she complies, I tell on her. “Hey, brother, want to rein in your woman? She’s at it again.”

  “What?” Ev huffs. “I’m just inviting a friend.”

  “A single gay friend,” I add, and Mason laughs.

  “What have I told you about your matchmaking obsession?” he says, and the sound of
him popping her on the ass is followed by Everly’s squeal. “No worries, little brother. It’ll just be family tonight.”

  “Tattletale,” Ev says with a giggle.

  Peeking out the window, I notice Ian struggling with two boxes. “Sounds good. I have to go. Ian’s bought out the liquor store.”

  “Love ya,” Ev calls.

  “Love ya. See you tonight.”

  Curses follow Ian through the door, and he sighs when I relieve him of one box full of liquor bottles. “Are we alcoholics tonight?” I ask, eyeing the additional box sitting in the bed of my pickup.

  “That one is full of soft drinks. Ev can’t drink, remember?”

  “I’m aware. I just got off the phone with her. She wanted to bring a friend.”

  Laughing, Ian starts putting away the liquor. “Not real subtle is she?” Everly has been Ian’s best friend since they were kids and ended up in the same group home. She is the sweetest, most compassionate person I know, and I was thrilled when she and Mason were married. I love her like a sister, but she can drive me crazy. Which is also like a sister, I guess. Her pregnancy hormones seem to have put her urge to find me a man into overdrive.

  “We should invite Art,” Ian says. “He’ll be right next door and probably alone.”

  “Fine by me.” I like Arthur. He’s nice, but you never know what might come out of his mouth.

  “Plus, I’m bringing a date.”

  Ian grins when I snort at the word “date”. “Any members of the nerd herd coming?”

  Ian works as an accountant, though you’d never think it by looking at him. Straight ink black hair falls to his neck and over his ears. Though he wears a suit to work, he spends his free time in carpenter jeans and a fitted T-shirt. He has that rugged bad boy look that women love.

  His work buddies I’ve dubbed the nerd herd look like accountants. Cameron wears thick glasses and I’ve never seen him not in slacks. Teddy is partial to sweater vests. I shit you not. Sweater vests. Wardrobe choices aside, they’re nice guys, though I haven’t spent a lot of time with them. I haven’t spent much time with anyone lately.

  “They may stop by later. Want to go grab some tacos for lunch?”

  “Hell, yeah.” If bacon is Ian’s weakness, tacos are mine.

  * * * *

  My twin brother, Parker, and his girlfriend, Macy, are the first to show up for the New Year’s celebration. Macy carries a chocolate cake, and Ian scoops it out of her hands. “I know you said not to bring anything, but I couldn’t show up empty handed,” she explains.

  “Your hand doesn’t look empty to me.” My words are rewarded by a bright smile, and she holds up her hand, displaying a sparkling engagement ring. I’d heard Parker popped the question a few days ago. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you,” I tell her, giving her a big hug and slapping Parker on the back, nearly knocking a cardboard box out of his hands.

  “Place is starting to look habitable,” Parker remarks, taking in our recent improvements.

  “It’s getting there,” Ian agrees. “Art’s side was a real mess. The last owner never fixed anything, and he’s not able, so most of our work has been focused there.”

  “What’s in the box?” I ask Parker, as he looks for a place to set it down.

  “Party favors. Macy’s idea.”

  “Well, let’s move to the living room where it’s warm and check it out.”

  Before we can dig into the box, Everly bounces through the door with Mason hot on her heels. Jake Jensen, one of Striking Back’s security officers, and his new girlfriend, Janet, come in behind them. Janet is Macy’s friend. Macy hooked her up with Jensen a few months ago. I swear, everywhere I look, there’s a happy couple. For once, I’m glad Ian is a slut. Misery truly loves company.

  A small dark car parks at the curb. “Ian, I think your buddies are here,” I call, as he returns from hanging everyone’s coats in the hall closet. Cameron and Teddy come in, both carrying a six pack of beer.

  Introductions are made and drinks poured as everyone gathers in the kitchen. “Who else is coming?” Ev asks.

  Handing her a soft drink, I reply, “Ian has a date who should be here soon, and Ms. Den insisted on bringing us her special hot chili dip. I imagine she’ll stay awhile. Oh!” I turn to Ian. “Did you invite Arthur?”

  “Yep. Said he’d stop by.”

  “He’s a hoot,” Ev says with a giggle. “Isn’t he about Ms. Den’s age?”

  “Everly.” Mason’s voice holds equal amusement and warning.

  Grabbing Janet and Macy’s hands, Ev says, “Come on, girl talk in the living room.”

  I sit around the table with the rest of the guys, and Ian pours everyone a shot. “So, who’s this chick you have coming?” his friend Teddy asks.

  “I met her at the office supply store. Tall, blonde, and fond of constrictive clothing.” Ian grins. “She texted me a few minutes ago to ask if she could bring a couple of friends.”

  “I’d better not find anyone fucking in my bed,” I groan.

  Cameron grins. “I’d never do that. The floor or wall would work fine.”

  “Now I see why you and Ian are friends,” I say, pouring everyone another shot.

  “Goodness! What have I walked in on?” Ms. Den bursts into the room, carrying two large aluminum pans stacked one on the other. Ms. Den is like a mother to me and my brothers, not to mention all the women at Striking Back, the domestic violence shelter we own. She’s sixty-three and looks like a sweet old grandmother, but her tongue is sharp as a razor.

  “Well, young man,” she says to Teddy, who suddenly looks uncomfortable holding a bottle of tequila. “Are you going to pour a lady a drink or what?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a chuckle.

  Mason takes the pans from her and places them on the counter. Just as Ms. Den throws back her shot, Ev enters arm in arm with Arthur. “I found this gentleman at the door and thought he might like to join us.” She introduces him to Ms. Den, then the rest of the group.

  “Would you like a drink?” Ms. Den asks him.

  “I’d love one, dear.”

  “Betty,” she replies with a coy grin.

  “Thank you, Betty.”

  Mason and Parker are both staring, jaws agape. I’ve never heard her offer her first name. We’ve known her as Ms. Den for years.

  “A toast,” Arthur says, holding up his bottle of beer. Everyone raises their drinks and he continues, “Here’s to you and me, may we never disagree. But if we do, to hell with you. Here’s to me.”

  Yeah, that’s pretty much what I expected.

  The party is a success if you consider a bunch of mid-twenties adults getting smashed, playing drinking games, and dancing to classic rock successful. About the time Mason starts giving Ian shit about his date not showing up, three scantily dressed women stumble in. It’s below freezing outside, as advertised by three sets of pointy nipples.

  Ian introduces his date as Ivy while the others flirt and giggle. He shares their names as well, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m too distracted by the color of Ivy’s skin. It’s orange. Seriously, Oompa Loompa orange. It seems no one has told her tanning beds have a timer for a reason. Macy and Everly exchange a conspicuous grin when she throws her arms around Ian and cries, “Bun buns!”

  One high heeled shoe tramples the other and she nearly hits the floor before Ian catches her. “Whoa, babe. How much have you had to drink?”

  “Couple mara-gritas, magritas, mar-ga-ri-tas,” she enunciates slowly, before passing out in Ian’s arms.

  Shaking his head, Ian turns to his friends. “Cam, Teddy, will you get her friends a drink while I tend to her?”

  His buddies are on their feet in half a second, leading the women into the kitchen.

  “Hurry back, bun buns!” Parker calls, and Ian manages to flip him off before disappearing down the hall.

  With her and her friends safely out of earshot, Ev asks, “Where the hell does Ian find these girls?”

&nbs
p; “A chocolate factory?” Mason suggests, and Ev giggles.

  “I want to shake some sense into him. He could do so much better.”

  “Than someone who looks like they’ve been raped by a Cheeto?” Parker quips, and laughter fills the room.

  Ian reappears to a chorus of “bun buns!” He’ll never live that down. “Is she okay?” Ev asks.

  “Fantastic. Passed out cold in the guest room.” He flops onto the loveseat, his shoulders drooping.

  “You put her in the guest room?” Macy asks, as she’s pulled into Parker’s lap.

  “She’s not puking in my bed.”

  “Always a gentlemen,” Jensen laughs, pulling Janet to her feet. “Dance with me, baby.” They get it started, and before long everyone is dancing and acting silly.

  A slow song comes on and everyone pairs up. Ev smiles and winks at me when Arthur offers a hand to Ms. Den. A knot forms in my throat. It’s times like this Cooper’s absence really hurts. I picture his arms around my neck, his sky blue eyes on mine as we move to the music.

  The countdown will begin soon and I don’t even have anyone to kiss. Oh, Coop. I’d do anything to go back. To do that day again and never let you near the car. I’m surrounded by couples dancing and making out. Even sweater vest has found someone. Ivy’s friends are dancing with Ian’s while he stands around looking almost as disappointed as I feel.

  A sudden mischievous grin brightens his face as he approaches me, offering his hand, and everyone laughs when I allow him to lead me between the dancing couples. Ev cracks up and takes a picture when I lay my head on his shoulder and sigh, “Oh, bun buns.”

  I know what he’s doing and I’m sure the others do too. Acting goofy and making me laugh distracts me from my long thoughts. The song ends and Macy announces, “Five minutes until midnight.”

  We all refill our drinks and Ian flips on the T.V. so we can watch the ball drop in Times Square. Macy distributes whistles and horns from the party favor box. We count down the remaining seconds, and when the clock strikes midnight the room is a deafening cacophony of cheers and whistles.