Drawing On Love: Mercenary Hearts, #1

Chapter 1

JESSICA, I HAVE TO run to the store because Aunt Mona ate all the baby carrots and fed the peppers to her dog. Sylvia paused in the doorway separating the rest of the house from my portion of it. She half-turned, in that way she does when she’s asking something without asking it. Though I’d only known my mother for a little over a year, living with her meant I’d come to know her tells pretty well.

Not that she tried to hide them—that was my deal.

In this house, I had a bedroom, bathroom, and living room to myself, as well as a separate entrance. In all respects, I had privacy and as much autonomy as I could handle. The only thing I needed to give me true independence was a kitchen of my own. And a car. Of course, that would mean I could live on my own, and we all knew I couldn’t. A car accident had left me with a few physical problems.

But enough of that.

In the midst of contemplating the emptiness of my life, I finished drinking the milk from my bowl of cereal and nodded. Want me to go with you? I knew she did. Sylvia hated to go anywhere alone.

Could you? Aunt Mona was going to go, but she’s running late.

A whole bunch of relatives were coming to town for my sister’s wedding even though Brea hadn’t invited them and didn’t care if they were there. They were coming to support our parents, not my sister who barely acknowledged their existence because she was still pissed at our parents for letting us get kidnapped when we were little. She didn’t even remember it, not like I did, and she couldn’t move past it.

I grabbed a cane and got to my feet. Though I’d rested it for most of Saturday, my hip still ached today thanks to my hike through the hilly streets of Kansas City a couple of days ago. Sounds like fun. I need a few things anyway.

She eyeballed my cane. What happened to the snake one? I thought you liked it best?

The snake was a cobra whose head and hood formed a curve that fit my hand perfectly. The body, a carved shaft with scales detailed along the length, was the perfect height. I’d lost it somewhere, probably at Jesse’s place, but I wasn’t ready to face him in order to get it back.

Of course, he’d be at the wedding, so I’d better gird my loins. I hadn’t talked to him in over a week, not since we’d returned from San Tesoro where Brea and I had rescued her husband, David, along with his partners Jesse and Frankie.

This one is fine for a run to the store. I took my bowl to the kitchen and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. I’m ready.

Great. Let’s go.

At the store, I watched Sylvia load six bags of baby carrots into the cart. Aunt Mona ate six bags of carrots in one night?

Sylvia was a few inches taller than me. She’d passed on her height to Brea. The two of them looked very much alike. It was funny how I resembled both of them in different ways. Brea and I had green eyes, but mine were round like Warren’s, and hers were almond-shaped like Sylvia’s. We both had Sylvia’s high cheekbones, and I had her smooth, clear skin. Brea had freckles across her nose and under her eyes. She took after Warren in that way, though his freckles were more widespread.

Mostly I envied Sylvia and Brea their full, bow-shaped lips. Mine were thin, like someone had been painting my face and had their pencil had run out before they could finish.

Right now, with that long-suffering look on her face as she stared into the cart at the carrots, a memory flashed in my mind. The accident that had mangled my left side and put me into a coma for three years had also stolen some of my memories. Sometimes they came back, triggered by an image or smell. This one had us in a grocery store, with Sylvia loading food into the cart. I held the cart handle, which was above my head, with one hand, and with the other, I held Brea’s hand so that she wouldn’t run off. Brea got loose, and Sylvia snagged her before she could go far. The look she had given Brea then was the same one she pointed at the carrots now.

Mom? The moniker burst from me, a function of the memory.

She glanced over, a pleased smile lighting her face. She’s trying to quit smoking.

I could relate to the struggle. I hadn’t smoked in over four years, and cravings were something I battled daily. Better get a couple more bags. Maybe I’d take up eating one every time I was tempted to light up. Carrots were good for me.

She tossed two more into the cart, happiness radiating from her pores. I told her to stop feeding red peppers to the dog. I was going to make something with them, but now there’s not time.

Can I help?

No. She hugged me, a quick one with her arm slung across my shoulders. Thank you. We have enough to do. What did you need to get?

Tampons.

She pointed toward the pharmacy aisles. Why don’t you go grab those, and I’ll get what we need here, and we’ll meet in the middle?

We were short on time. Brea was scheduled to be over to prepare for her wedding in our backyard, and since David was driving, there was a good chance she wouldn’t be late like she usually was.

I hurried to the other side of the store, ignoring questioning stares from people wondering why an otherwise healthy person had to use a cane. I’d been raised—by my kidnapper—not to draw attention to myself, so having to use a cane went against every instinct I had. Plus I hated the constant reminder that I wasn’t as able-bodied as I used to be.

In the aisle dedicated to everything related to a vagina, I grabbed a box of tampons. As I turned away, the row of pregnancy tests caught my eye. Eight days ago, Jesse had confessed that he was in love with me, and then we’d had unprotected sex. I wasn’t worried about diseases because he was the only man I’d been with in the last four years—or maybe I should be because who knew where Jesse’s dick had been?—but I wasn’t sure about the timing.

The accident had damaged one of my ovaries, but the other one functioned just fine. What were the chances I’d get pregnant my first time? Given my luck, probably higher than normal. I snagged an early pregnancy test and paid for it before meeting Sylvia at the checkout.

When we got back home, the house was full of people. Warren met us at the door, relieving Sylvia of her bags. He tried to go for mine, but I tucked it behind me. You don’t want this one.

It took him a moment, but he figured out a reason not to argue. He kissed my cheek. Brea has taken over our bedroom with her stuff, and she sent the guys to your apartment.

The pregnancy test was burning a hole in my purse. I desperately wanted to set my mind at ease before I spent the rest of the day celebrating my sister’s wedding. I trailed Warren and Sylvia to the kitchen, where they unpacked the groceries and other items Sylvia had bought. The guys?

Warren eyeballed the eight bags of carrots, but he didn’t comment. David and Dean. She said David can’t see her in her dress, so she told them to go in there and not come out until it was safe.

I looked at the bag in my hand. Is anyone in the main bathroom?

This house came with three bathrooms and four bedrooms, if the bathroom and bedroom in my apartment were considered. If Brea was in Sylvia and Warren’s bedroom, then she wasn’t going to leave me alone in the bathroom. In some respects, little sisters never stopped being annoying.

Warren motioned to the hall. It’s all yours.

Peeing on a stick wasn’t difficult, but the two minutes it took to develop seemed like forever. I washed my hands slowly. My skin prickled, and I broke out in a sweat. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this nervous about anything. I’d faced down a kidnapper—a different one than the one who’d raised Brea and me—and laughed in the face of a terrorist in Central America. Neither of those situations had made me need more deodorant. I took my shirt off and washed my face and armpits. The time to look at the stick had come and gone, but my eyes refused to even glance in that direction.

My first abortion had been performed when I was fourteen years old. I remembered the sterile room in the clinic, my legs up in the stirrups. BS—Brian Sullivan, the man who’d been my father for the past eight years—had kissed my forehead before exiting the room. His voice drifted to me now. I’ll be right outside, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.

I’d been comforted then, but the memory brought bile with it now. Bitter and strong, it rose up in my throat and splattered into the sink. Given how the math worked, I’d been fifteen then, not fourteen. We hadn’t known our real birthdays, so BS had estimated. Since I’d been small for my age, he’d underestimated me by a year, and since Brea had been tall, he’d overestimated her by a year. We were three years apart, not one.

Still, no matter my age, I’d been too young. Though I’d been brainwashed to forget my real parents and accept BS, part of me had known that wasn’t the life I was supposed to live. It had never felt right, not unless I was with Brea or painting, and I’d gone in search of something to fill that void. I’d found it in the form of a boy not much older than me. Neither of us had known what we were doing.

My last abortion had been about a year before the accident. Brea and I had been on the run from BS, and I wasn’t in a position to carry a child to term. Even if I had been, someone like me had no business bringing another human being into this world.

The reflection in the mirror lacked color. I stared at myself for several long seconds before whisper-yelling. Snap out of it. Look at the fucking stick. You could be freaking out over nothing.

I forced myself to pick it up and hold it in front of my face. Plus sign. I was pregnant with the child of a man who professed to love me, a man whose touch I craved more than cigarettes even though I didn’t have the capacity to love him back—a man I couldn’t bring myself to face even though I’d done nothing wrong.

All feeling left my body. I gargled mouthwash and put my shirt back on. The sweat and nerves had evaporated, and I functioned on autopilot. Today was my sister’s big day. She was marrying the man of her dreams, someone she loved deeply and who loved her back even more. David was a great guy, and Brea deserved every ounce of happiness coming her way. I shoved my problems aside and concentrated on making sure her wedding day went off without a hitch.

Things were fine until Sylvia and I were fixing Brea’s hair in the bathroom. Sylvia’s mood was elevated by excitement and wine. She loved hanging out with us, bonding with the daughters who had been stolen from her so long ago.

Sylvia wielded the curling iron with expert precision, arranging a cascade of curls to cover Brea’s shoulder. I wish you’d wear your hair up. I can do a coif that would complement the elegance of your dress.

Brea had chosen a deep green dress that brought out the stunning green of her eyes. I don’t want the scars on my neck to show. The dress has a square neckline, so my hair has to cover my neck and shoulder.

David doesn’t notice them. Sylvia scoffed. Brea’s scars had come from the same accident that had left me using a cane. He likes when you wear your hair away from your face.

Lightheaded and half out of my mind, I giggled at my sister’s insecurity. For some reason, he thinks you’re pretty. Even after seeing what you look like first thing in the morning, he still wants to marry you.

She laughed, and her nerves seemed steadier. I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry. It’s not like I knocked him up or anything.

Am I going to be a grandmother? Sylvia sounded entirely too pleased and not at all surprised. I found a test in the trash.

My heart stopped. Brea said something to deny that the pregnancy test was hers. I scrambled to try to throw them off or change the topic, but for once, no words came to mind. Sylvia was tenacious, a trait she shared with Brea. When her questioning yielded no result, they both looked to me.

I couldn’t meet either gaze. Though my hand shook, I picked up a makeup brush and went to work contouring Brea’s cheekbones. At least, I hoped I was contouring them. I seemed to have lost the memory of how to put on makeup. Maybe I was just tickling her cheeks with a soft brush. Who knew?

The silence grated on my nerves, and I knew I had to say something. Please don’t say a word to anyone. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.

Sure. Whatever you want. I’m here for you. Brea had been with me through everything, and I had no doubt she’d be by my side for this no matter what.

Sylvia squeezed my shoulder. Though I knew she wanted to take me in her arms, I didn’t open myself to a hug. She settled for the small show of support. I’m here for you too, sweetheart.

I was not going to cry today, not for any reason other than witnessing the beauty of my sister saying her vows. Thank you, but please don’t tell anyone, not Dad and especially not David, okay? Brea was in the habit of telling David pretty much everything. Though she trusted him with her secrets, I didn’t trust him with mine. He was protective of me, and that meant he would go to Jesse and force Jesse to do right by me.

She nodded. Brea always understood me, sometimes in ways I didn’t understand myself.

A couple tears leaked out, but I dried them and banished the rest. This is your day. You only get one first wedding.

As time passed, I was able to push it out of my mind. Relatives and friends descended on the house, and before I knew it, I was standing in a black evening dress on the back lawn watching my sister pledge her heart and fidelity to the man who’d saved us both a few times and who’d been instrumental in reuniting us with Sylvia and Warren.

Julianne Terry, a woman who had considered herself my best friend in the months I’d known her before my accident, stood next to me as part of the bridal party. She was a gorgeous woman, with long strawberry hair and a huge heart that she wore on her sleeve.

On her other side, Frankie witnessed the ceremony. Where Julianne had a wholesome beauty, Frankie exuded exotic sex appeal. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Though the three of us wore simple black gowns, Frankie managed to upstage everyone except the bride.

Lining up behind David were Dean, Jesse, and Leon. Dean and Jesse were part of SAFE Security, and Leon was my younger brother. Sylvia had been pregnant with him when Brea and I had been kidnapped, and he’d grown up to become part of an FBI unit that specialized in recovering kidnapped children. He was a good man, and I enjoyed his company.

As Brea spoke, tears coursed down my cheeks. I hadn’t thought to bring tissue, so I wiped them away with the backs of my hands until my skin was too wet to be of use.

After the ceremony, I partnered with Dean for the return trip down the aisle. He tucked my hand around his arm and handed me a handkerchief. Dean was the only man I knew who would have one of those on hand for every occasion. Always fashionably dressed in designer suits that accentuated his assets, Dean prided himself on his appearance.

Thanks, I sniffled. I didn’t think I’d cry.

You’re quite welcome. His smooth voice washed over me and helped me get the waterworks under control.

We made it to the receiving line at the other end of the yard near the canopy that protected the tables filled with food. I hugged Brea, and she squeezed me tightly. Our messages of love and support didn’t need to be voiced.

When David hugged me, he did voice his concern. Are you okay?

Using Dean’s handkerchief, I wiped away more tears. I’m fine. That was a beautiful ceremony. Welcome to the family.

Thanks. He kissed my cheek and passed me along so I could take my place in the line.

Dean kept an arm around me until Jesse finished congratulating the newlyweds and took his place by my side. Dean’s physical support disappeared, but Jesse didn’t fill the void. After I’d pointedly ignored him all the way back from San Tesoro, he wasn’t going to make a move. He had his pride, and I understood pride.

His magnetism drew me, and I swayed in his direction. Thankfully I caught myself before he noticed. I pasted a smile on my face, shook hands, and hugged everyone there—except Jesse.

Being that this was a hastily planned wedding, there wasn’t a DJ or anyone to insist that there be ritualized dancing. Someone played tunes on a speaker. I didn’t dance until Brea pulled me onto the improvised dance area. She put a hand on my hip and held my other hand in hers, and we danced a reasonably good waltz. In one of the places we’d lived, we used to sneak out to watch ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center down the street. We’d practice in the dark breezeway where we could hear the music and see the people dancing, but they couldn’t see us.

Are you okay? A few inches taller than me, even though I was wearing heels too, she peered down at me.

I’m fine.

Have you talked to Jesse?

Brea, this is your night. Just forget about that, okay?

Her mouth creased in a pout. I’m not going to forget about it, but I’ll put it on a shelf. When I get back from my honeymoon, we’re going to figure this out together.

My sister was the one person I loved and trusted more than anyone on this planet. I hugged her closer. It’s not your problem.

Don’t be an idiot, she hissed. You’re my sister and my best friend. I might be married now, but that doesn’t change anything between us.

It had already changed a whole lot, but Brea was as blissfully ignorant of that as always. In a lot of ways, David had replaced me. I used to be the one who watched out for Brea. It had been my job to get her out of the trouble she always seemed to find. For as long as I could remember, we’d been a team. Then, when I’d awoken from the coma, I’d found my sister had built a new life without me.

She did her best to include me. I was happy for her, and I didn’t begrudge her the happiness she’d found. She couldn’t help that I felt lost and adrift, unanchored to a life that didn’t seem like my own.

Can I cut in? David’s voice intruded on my dark thoughts.

I stepped back, releasing Brea. Sure.

Instead of going for Brea, he snagged me, whirling me across the patio. Jessica, I’ve never had a sister before.

David had paid for all my rehabilitation care because he loved my sister, and he waved away any mention of his generosity. Most people would have found some way to lord it over me, but not David. I was important to him because I was important to Brea. This fact did not give me a puffed-up sense of importance or make me feel closer to him.

How much have you had to drink?

Not much. I’m planning to scene with Brea tonight, so I need to keep my wits about me. He smiled, but it was the sad kind. I want you to know that I love you like a sister. I’m not going to claim to love you as much as Brea does because I’m not sure that’s humanly possible. But I know you think I’m only nice to you because of her, and I want you to know that no matter what, I’m here for you.

I gasped and tried to pull from his grasp, but he didn’t let go. She told you already?

He tilted his head. A breeze ruffled his blond locks, and a frown marred his strong chin. Told me what?

There was no way I was saying it out loud to him when I hadn’t even fully admitted it to myself. I shook my head. What the hell are you talking about?

I’m trying to say—badly, I think—that you’re important to me. I consider you a friend as well as family, just like Dean, Frankie, and Jesse. He eased his grip because I stopped trying to get away.

Dean, Frankie, and Jesse were his closest friends. He trusted them with his life and all he held dear. David wasn’t given to hyperbole, so this was a big deal. Thank you.

And if you ever change your mind and want to join the team, we’ll welcome you with arms wide open.

After Brea and I had saved their asses from certain death in San Tesoro, they’d offered us permanent jobs at SAFE Security. Brea had accepted, but I’d turned down the offer. I was reasonably sure that Jesse wouldn’t welcome me to the team, but I kept my lip zipped. David didn’t need me to rain on his parade. The song ended, and a slow one started.

Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but on my wedding day, I want to dance all the slow ones with my wife. He softened his rejection with a chuckle.

I didn’t mind at all. I understand.

Great. He whirled me into the arms of Brea’s dance partner, who happened to be Jesse.

Jesse caught me, laying two hands on my waist before he realized he was touching me. He made no effort to move his hands. Next to us, David and Brea were a million miles away in a world populated by two.

Sorry, I said, though I had no idea why I was apologizing. You don’t have to dance with me.

Utterly still, we stared at each other, and I wasn’t sure if he was in shock or this was a staring contest, but I was determined not to lose. The song played, and people danced around us, occasionally bumping into him or me.

After most of the song had passed, a sly grin broke out over his features. He leaned closer, speaking so that only I could hear. Ask for it, Brat. Ask me to dance with you.

Lifting both hands, I slammed them into his chest, pushing him away. Okay, it made me stagger back because he was too big for me to move. Disgusted, I muttered, Jackass.

He snatched me closer, sealing my body to his, and he caged my arms between us. I could barely breathe, but he didn’t seem to care. I smelled wine on his breath, but he didn’t seem drunk. His eyes reflected the overcast sky with a few coals of hellfire thrown in. They glittered hard and shot sparks at me.

Memories of the way he’d touched me before—soft caresses interspersed with poignant declarations—whirled through my head. I shivered in his arms though the evening was unseasonably warm.

Smart woman. You should be afraid. His low tone pummeled against me, the leading edge melting the barriers I’d long ago erected around my heart. Don’t call me a jackass.

I could not let myself succumb to the happy chemicals he set free in my veins. Fuck off, Jesse. I’ll call you whatever fits.

I’m going to spank you, Brat. I’m going to tie you up and introduce your backside to my leather belt.

I rolled my eyes. It was epic, a real statement about the hollowness of his threat. Whatever.

When I’m finished, even though you’re going to be crying, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.

I jerked, trying to get out of his arms, but like David, his hold was too solid for me to go anywhere.

"And I will, Brat. I’ll fuck you fast and hard, but I won’t let you come. I’ll keep you on the edge, so close to orgasm you can taste it, but I won’t let you get there. I’ll tie your legs