Chapter Six

The warm embrace of her father helped settle Emily’s battered nerves. The hug was hollow, like going to eat somewhere she’d loved as a child, only to realize it wasn’t what she remembered. She’d thought for a moment that she’d had more in her life, and the hug reminded her she didn’t.

The plane had landed quickly after the altercation, which had meant the new team was able to help with Garret until police arrived. Emily had taken her seat and stared out of the window, just as she’d done before it had happened.

Maybe nothing had really changed, there. She’d been betrayed by someone she’d trusted, again. With Garret in custody, Levi had taken his phone to find the information they needed. An unhappy business associate had set up the little scheme, and her father’s personal driver had supplied the inside information about her schedule. Everything had wrapped up so neatly, yet it didn’t help her feel any better.

The alphas had coordinated with the police and the other security team, and the ease with which they’d worked would have thrilled her earlier. It was clear they functioned well as a group—though she knew that, didn’t she?—and they had no problem telling people what to do. In fact, everyone seemed to listen, falling into step with their plan. It drew her back to how easily they’d taken control of her, and how wonderful it had felt.

She shook her head and scolded herself for the thought.

Her father had taken an hour to get to the airport, and he’d gathered her up into a hug so tight it reminded her she wasn’t entirely numb.

Everyone stared at her as though they expected her to crack, as if they thought she’d break down in tears and have some sort of fit. Then again, she was the spoiled brat of Mr. Pitch. They didn’t expect much else from her, did they?

Greg, one of her father’s security detail who she’d known all her life, slid a strong arm around her. He was like an uncle to her, someone she’d grown up with, someone who had been there at every big moment of her life. “Come along, Emily. Your father has a few more questions to answer and things to handle, so he asked I escort you home.”

“What about him?”

“The rest of his security detail will remain here, but he wants me to personally get you out of here. Let’s get you home.”

The ride went in silence. Greg sat in the back seat of the limo with her, though he didn’t try to get her to talk. They arrived back at her father’s home, and she trudged up the long staircase, unsure what to do with herself.

A shower seemed the obvious answer, and she did it more because she didn’t have any better choices than because she cared. It wasn’t as if she had anyone to impress, and the idea of washing the alpha’s scents away felt like losing something she now knew she couldn’t get back.

Still, cleaning the grime off her and detangling the mess her hair had turned into was worth it. Afterward, she came down the stairs, Greg having already stuck his head into the room to tell her her father had arrived home safely.

Put on a smile. Play the part. Happy, stubborn, spoiled Emily. No matter how she told herself to suck it up, she couldn’t stop the ache so deep and strong she feared it had hollowed her out.

She walked into her father’s office to find him seated at his desk, as usual. Nothing much kept him from his work. She recalled having fallen asleep in the large chairs as a child, when she’d played in his office as he’d worked. Still, his eyes softened when they lifted to hers, and she tried to shake off the melancholy. She was back, and if nothing else, it would ease the stress on her father’s shoulders if she didn’t look like she was pouting.

“We need to talk about your new security detail.”

Right, that.

He kept going, oblivious to her inner turmoil, to the way the words dug out new chunks from her soul. “Since we’ve found the threat to you, you have don’t need to go overseas. I applaud Levi, Grant and Maddox for their exemplary work, but my understanding is that they don’t want to continue full time.”

Of course not. Emily sank into the large chair and drew her knees up toward her chest. A nap sounded amazing right then, to sleep until the pain lessened. It would, right? She barely knew the alphas, so whatever this was, it had to end.

Of course, she knew it wasn’t about them, at least not exactly. It wasn’t about three alphas she’d just met not wanting her. It was realizing she wanted more out of her life, about having tasted it for a split second, and having to recognize she might never get it.

“Sure. Whatever you think.”

Her father frowned. “Whatever I think? You haven’t said that since you were three, and it was said with sarcasm even then.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I realized there really are threats out there and that fighting with security isn’t worth it.” Not to mention, she obviously couldn’t handle her own life, given that she’d not seen Garret for what he was. She’d even thought the alphas might care for her, might have wanted her, and look how wrong she’d been there. “So, who are we going with?” She swallowed, then added softly, “Just, please, no more alphas.”

His gaze softened, and he pushed the papers on his desk aside. That had always been his way of showing her he was giving her his full attention. “No more alphas, I promise. Perhaps that was a mistake on my part. I’d thought an alpha wouldn’t bend so easily to your manipulations.”

Oh, they hadn’t bent. Instead, they’d twisted her until she was afraid she’d broken beneath the force.

“It’s fine, really. I promise, I won’t run off on my detail anymore. I’ll behave. I just can’t do this with alphas again.”

His sigh was long and low. “Do you care for them?”

The question shouldn’t have shocked her. She didn’t have many secrets from her father. In fact, she suspected he knew she’d fooled around with the betas he’d hired, because often they’d be transferred soon after. Still, it lanced a pain through her chest. She nodded, folding her arms over her knees and resting her chin on them. “Yeah, which is stupid, right? I barely know them.”

Them. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, but she couldn’t help it. It would have been dishonest to claim she’d cared for just one. If her father wanted to look at her differently because of it, that was fine.

“No, sweetheart, it isn’t stupid. That’s how nature goes for a lot of people. When I met your mother, I knew right away. We both did. I don’t think those feelings often steer us wrong.”

“And the fact I said them?”

His lips curled into that smile he gave her when he knew more than she’d thought. He’d done it when she’d snuck back in and tried to pretend she’d never left, when all the while he’d had her tailed. “I’m not a fool, Emily. I know how things are, even if I am old.”

“You don’t think that’s wrong?”

He shook his head and reached into his desk. He pulled an old, faded photo out and pushed it across the table. In it, her mother—who she knew only by picture, since she didn’t remember her—stood between four men. Her father was to the left, but the other three? She didn’t recognize them. “Who are they?”

“They were alphas who were also with your mother.”

Emily’s gaze shot up, waiting for her father to say it was a joke.

Instead, he sat back at the desk. “My name and expectations didn’t give me the chance to live that way. When she wound up pregnant, we did a test to check paternity. You were mine, and so your mother had to make a choice. Or, at least, we thought she did. I haven’t spoken to the other alphas since her funeral.” He sighed, then shrugged. “My point is, this doesn’t surprise me. I was afraid, and I let tradition and standing steal away the future and family I believe I was supposed to have. Don’t let fear steal anything from you.”

The shock wore off as she traced the smiling faces from the picture, the clearly happy family. She tried to think about what it would have felt like to have all four men as father figures. It had just been her father and her for most of her life, but the idea of a house filled with laughter, with love, that seemed…worth fighting for.

“It doesn’t matter.” She set the picture on the desk. “They walked away because they didn’t want me, Dad. So none of this really matters.”

“You sure about that, brat?”

Emily stood, twisting to find Grant just inside the doorway, with Levi and Maddox behind him. Just seeing their faces again made her stomach flip, made her want to rush forward before the harsh reality hit her. They don’t want me.

Her father stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving them alone in his office. The door shutting was loud, like a gunshot to get them moving.

“If you’re here to check on me, I’m fine.” Emily tried for her trademark annoyance in her tone. “And you can just send any recommendations to my father for my next security detail.”

Levi cocked up that dark eyebrow in a move so familiar it almost made her smile. “Well, isn’t someone in a bad mood?”

“Happens when people try to abduct you for ransom.” Emily crossed her arms, trying to stay strong. The best defense was a good offense, so she intended to be as off-putting as possible. Get the alphas out of there, because seeing them hurt, and she was trying her hardest to not let it show. “My dad already said you don’t want to stay on as my security.”

“That’s true.” Levi strode into the room, his gaze locked on her.

The fact that he said it made her even angrier. Why come back at all? Were they rubbing it in? Did they want to taunt her? “So, again, why are you here?”

Maddox caught her chin in a gentle grasp, a rare lift of his lip into something that could almost be a smile. “If you would stop growling long enough for us to explain, we’d tell you.”

A rumble in her chest said that, yep, she was growling.

So much for playing it cool.

Emily pulled away from Maddox’s grasp and tucked a stray damp strand of hair behind her ear. “So explain already, so you can leave.”

Grant moved in, and it drove Emily back until her ass hit the desk. Instead of doing anything else, he twisted and rested against the same desk. “I told you sleeping with a client complicates a job. We can’t be sleeping with someone we’re supposed to protect.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you put your dick in me.”

That time Levi did huff a real laugh, as though her vulgar language were both unexpected and charming. “That meant, to pursue anything with you, someone else would need to take over your security. I wouldn’t trust it to just anyone, so we met with your father to pick the correct betas to do so. I won’t allow anything but the best when it comes to your safety. Besides, I’m traditional, and we had to make our intentions clear to your father.”

“Intentions?” The word fell from her lips as she stared at Levi, who had taken the spot to her right, caging her in between the three large and distracting bodies.

What did he mean? Her mind couldn’t seem to keep up, not when they smelled so good, when they were so close, when she had a flicker of painful hope.

Levi reached out to catch the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss, for one of his that was so soft it still surprised her. It ended too fast, as though he’d needed a taste before he could say another word, as if he couldn’t wait even a minute longer. “My intention is to have you, Miss Pitch, in my bed every single night.”

Maddox stole her next, pressing his huge frame against her and stealing a kiss, deeper than Levi’s but just as full of things the quiet alpha never said. Still, when their lips broke apart, he whispered to her, “Say yes, Em. We can make you happy.”

Grant was last, and his kiss was nothing like the others. He didn’t go for sweet, instead tilting her head so he could take her mouth in a deep and consuming kiss, the sort that tempted her to strip naked and mount him there, despite the fact they were in her father’s office. She tried to follow his lips when he broke off and pulled back. “Give it a chance, huh? I mean, you’ve sulked ever since you thought we were letting you go, so clearly you’re interested in this too.” The smirk as he spoke made her want to smack him or kiss it off—either was good with her.

Still, the three stood there, looking at her, faces expectant.

What did she want?

She wanted…to be wanted. Not for what people could get from her, but for her. She wanted someone who needed her, who found joy in her feisty imperfections, in her. These men would get little out of a mating with her, and if anything, it would complicate their lives and their jobs. They weren’t businessmen. They didn’t care about lines or money. They stared at her not as if she was a meal ticket, but as if she were a female they needed as much as oxygen.

They wanted her, and that was something she’d never felt before.

Even still, after thinking they’d left her, after the aching inside her, she pushed. “Well, I don’t know. You were a pretty lousy security detail. I’m not sure you’d perform any better as mates.”

A snap of silence almost made her regret the snarky words, the jab that was as much her personality as her rebellion.

Levi was the first to chuckle, but it was Grant who responded. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to show you.”

The world flipped as Maddox lifted her and tossed her over his hard shoulder.

Emily squeaked and tried to kick at the undignified position. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Grant landed a hard, loud slap on her ass, one that stung and yet settled her. “We’re going to take you somewhere more private, because I don’t think you’ll be happy if we deal with your bratty streak here at your father’s house.”

The fact that the alphas had manhandled her, yet again, should have frightened her. That she wanted them so badly and so quickly should have sent her running. Instead, Emily felt as though, for the first time, she had people who really her. Not what she could give them, not out of convenience or force, but males who needed her with as much strength as she felt.

It was what she’d always searched for.

Levi caught her chin, bending down so he could see her face, his gaze hard and honest. “Because, believe me, we will deal with your bratty behavior.”

“For how long?”

His lips curled up, a promising heat in his dark green eyes. “As long as it takes, Miss Pitch. You’re ours to protect, now.”

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Fake It Till You Make It Jayce Carter

Excerpt

Tara drank her beer as if the alcohol could dull the hurt. I wish I was pissed off. Anger was better. It was tough and assertive. Pissed-off people burned down their ex’s house and got things done.

But, no, Tara was hurt, and the source of all that hurt sat in the center of the table.

“Forget about it,” Gena said before taking a drink of her own beer. “Why don’t we go on a girls’ trip? We can raise hell, have fun somewhere, pick up hot guys and forget all about this.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick sat and tossed his arm around Gena. “I think I’ll have something to say about my wife picking up guys.”

Tara had never seen a couple more in love or in tune than her brother and his wife, Gena. If she didn’t love them both so damned much, she’d hate them for being perfect. They reminded her of those couples on first dates who sat on the same side of a booth before they realized they hated one another.

And maybe cynicism wasn’t all that attractive, but Tara figured that ship had sailed a while before.

Gena caught Patrick’s chin and stole a quick kiss, mischief coloring her eyes. “You know I’ll come back. This is about your sister.”

“You don’t get to go find guys because my sister is terrible at dating.”

“I am not terrible,” Tara muttered.

Patrick turned back toward her, his smirk calling her a liar. “When was your last date?”

“What about that accountant?” Gena asked, her tone bright as though she were being helpful.

“The one who walked out before drinks even arrived?”

“It’s not her fault he was an asshole.” Ah, sweet Gena, who defended her even when Tara knew she was terrible with men.

That accountant had squinted at her, then made a snide comment about how her picture must have been old. He’d gone to the bathroom after putting in his order and never come back. It had left Tara sitting there, both meals spread across the table with only enough room for all the looks of pity from the waitresses.

The photo hadn’t been old, at least no more so than most people used. Sure, it was one of her best, the sort that happened when by luck, good lighting and a sacrifice to the god of social media she looked about twenty pounds lighter than she was, but it was still her.

Of course, the accountant hadn’t mentioned that he’d taken a few liberties himself with his own profile, since he sure as hell hadn’t been six foot when he’d walked in, and she’d seen the fancy math he must have done with his age when she’d caught sight of his license after he pulled out his wallet.

But, no, Tara was the wrong one.

“Men suck,” Tara griped. “I’m getting along just fine without one.”

“You really aren’t. It’s been months, Tara. You have to have cobwebs at this point.”

Let’s not think about that visual. She shuddered at the spider that would risk venturing toward her unused and nearly forgotten nether regions.

“Really? Right in front of me?” Patrick made a gagging noise Gena ignored.

Tara broke into the conversation before Patrick could step up his dramatics. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“He invited you to his wedding. What do you mean it isn’t a big deal? That is a dick move.”

Yeah, it really was. Her ex-husband, Harry, had known exactly what he was doing when he’d sent her that invitation. It had arrived in her mailbox like a flaming bag of dog poop, and each time she thought about it, she stepped right back on it again, smearing it around. He wasn’t stupid, even if she wished he were. He’d known that by inviting her, he got to play the good guy. He was the nice guy who wanted to mend fences and be friends and every other stupid cliché she could think of about getting over things.

If she said no? She was the bitch who couldn’t get over the fact that he’d left her.

Even so, the idea of sending back an anonymous bag of gummy dicks was tempting, and there was a ninety-eight percent chance she had his address already saved into a site that would mail them overnight. Except he didn’t deserve candy, dick-shaped or not.

“I have to go to it,” Tara said.

“He’s marrying the woman he cheated on you with. No one would blame you for bailing.”

“No one would blame me, but they’d sure have something to say about it. They’d all look at me like I was the freak who can’t get over him.”

“So what? Let them talk,” Patrick said.

Tara sat back, then tossed her empty can into the recycling bin set in the corner. It hit the edge and bounced to the ground.

Another miss. Guess that fits well, doesn’t it?

“I wouldn’t even mind going if I’d done anything. It’s been six months, and I haven’t changed at all. Same job. Same wardrobe. Same weight. Remember when he first walked out and I swore I’d go on a diet and lose fifty pounds and show him up?” She huffed, then dropped her face onto her crossed arms. Instead of being someone new, she’d show up looking exactly like herself.

“You still could.” Gena’s voice had taken on the tone that said she was planning something everyone else would hate.

Tara twisted, setting her cheek on her arm to stare at the other woman. “It’s two weeks away. Even a crash diet won’t help me much now.”

Gena waved her off. “No, not the weight. You look beautiful anyway. But you wanted to show him, right? Well, what’s the best way to do that?”

“Stab him and bury the body in the desert?”

Patrick chuckled, sitting back in his chair as his wife schemed.

“Show up with some hot stud on your arm.”

“Hot stud?” Tara spoke the words slowly to make sure Gena heard how stupid the idea was.

“Yes. No one’s going to care about anything else if you go to the wedding and your date makes him look like a broke-down two on a good day.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, since I have hot men lining up wanting to date me. Oh wait, I don’t.”

Gena dismissed the point as if it were unimportant. “You said you don’t want to date, so all you need is someone to play the part.”

“I’m supposed to hire a man to pretend to date me? God, that’s more pathetic than actually hiring a prostitute. At least if I did that, I’d get a good orgasm out of it.”

Patrick choked on his drink at that, but all his sputtering meant he couldn’t object as they continued to plot.

“Just think about it. He’ll show up for what you need, make Harry jealous, show everyone you’ve moved on and don’t need that dead weight, then he’ll leave. No fuss, no muss, no drama and you’ll have some nice eye-candy for a few days.”

Tara opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, she considered it.

Gena had a point.

She’d avoid all the pity looks, all the nonsense. She wouldn’t need to worry about fostering some relationship, wouldn’t care what the man thought about her. It would be a job to him, nothing more.

Simple.

Tara sighed. “Even if I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Wanted ads?” Patrick asked, a mocking grin on his face. The asshole was such a brother, making sure to get a good kick in there when she was at a low point.

“I want a man, not to be murdered.”

Gena slammed her palm on the table, and even with the frantic movement, no one jumped. Everyone was used to Gena’s bordering-on-unstable behavior. “I’ve got it! Chris.”

Patrick cocked up an eyebrow. “Chris? Seriously?”

Gena sat back and rapped her knuckles on the table. “It’s perfect. He’s coming into town, and he’d do anything for you.”

Tara tried to keep Gena from getting too excited over the idea. “Wait, he’s from out of town? Yeah, telling people I met someone online is the exact way to convince them I’m not a loser.”

“It’s exactly what you need. He grew up a town over, and his mom is still there. It’s how you say you met. Plus, since he doesn’t live here, you don’t have to worry about running into him again. Plus, trust me, he’s hot. Right, Patrick?”

“I refuse to answer that.”

Gena kept going like he hadn’t spoken. “Not only is he hot, but he’s pretty damn successful, too. Trust me, you walk in anywhere with him and people will take notice.”

Tara tried to imagine how that would feel. She’d never been the center of attention, never someone who could make an entrance. If anything, she was the type who slunk in and sank into the background. While she still doubted Chris could be nearly as good-looking as Gena implied—especially since Gena liked to exaggerate—she still figured it couldn’t be worse than showing up alone.

“This is stupid,” she said to try to shake free the idea.

“This isn’t stupid. It’s brilliant, Tara, and it’s necessary. Trust me, at the end of this, you’ll feel better. You’ll have a handsome guy to look at, everyone will see that you don’t need Harry’s useless ass and you’ll have fun. Just say yes.”

Tara sighed, wanting to say no, but the idea of showing up alone, of being the loser yet again, ate at her.

She deserved to, just for once, be the one others envied. She deserved to stroll into a place and have people turn their heads. She’d spent her life being respectable and down-to-earth and doing what was right.

Damn it, she wanted to be over-the-top.

She wanted to see Harry eaten up with envy when he realized that what he didn’t want, someone else did. Even if it was all fake, that one second would be worth it.

“Call him,” Tara said.

* * * *

Chris smiled at the name that flashed across the screen of his phone, but when he answered, he used the appropriate amount of suspicion. “What now, Gena?”

His best friend’s wife was a disaster, always. He loved her like a sister, the woman who never failed to keep his best friend on his toes, but when her name showed up, he knew things wouldn’t be boring, at least. He’d never gotten so close to being arrested as when he’d been with her. The last time, they’d ended up in some back alley in LA at three a.m. with Gena trying to track down someone who had sold her a fake, knock-off purse.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Will I be arrested for saying yes?”

“Probably not.” She breezed forward so fast he had no idea if she was being serious or not. He could never tell with her. “What are your plans while you’re in town?”

“A few planning meetings with Pat. Dinner with my mom. That’s it.”

“Is she still pushing you to find a nice girl to settle down with?”

Chris grumbled an answer while he kicked his feet up on the table on his balcony, trying not to think about how his mother would harass him for the millionth time about needing to get married to a girl who would start popping out babies like a gumball machine.

If he thought he could get away with it, he’d refuse to go see her. He might try to head into town and keep on the downlow, try to avoid her the entire time. Unfortunately, karma would bite him in the ass if he tried it, and he’d end up running into her at a store.

No one held grudges like mothers. He was thirty-three and if he dared to try to leave her house early, his mother still liked to casually bring up how far she’d torn in delivering him. Twenty-two stiches never failed to buy her another two hours of his company.

Gena’s voice brought him back to their odd conversation. “That’s what I thought. I’ve got an idea that’s going to help you out. What if I said I know a smart, hilarious, beautiful woman who needs a date to a couple of events while you’re out? Same sort of deal, she needs people off her back. You two help one another, show up and play the happy couple and you guys can shelve the whole dating thing for at least a year.”

Chris pressed his lips together as he considered the offer. Gena was known for piss-poor ideas, and he’d been on the ass end of a few of them, but that one wasn’t half-bad.

If he brought a girl home to his mother’s, he could ride that for at least a year. He’d make up some story in a few months about how the girl had broken his heart, then claim to be healing for a while longer. Hell, maybe he could squeeze out a few tears and his mom would make him cookies.

And the price? Just to repay the favor for her?

All of this while having a girl who knew better than to get involved? To have a girl who knew it was just a game?

That sounded like a pretty good plan to him.

“Who is it?”

“Pat’s sister.”

And there was the kicker. Little Tara Sampson? Chris hadn’t met her, but he’d seen and heard plenty about her. Patrick had talked about his sister like the annoying little brat all sisters were. On top of that, old pictures always sat on his walls, so Chris had gotten a look at the short girl who’d worn platform shoes and colorful scrunchies in her hair as a teenager.

Then again, someone down-home like that would work well for his mother. She lived a town over, so it wasn’t like they’d run into each other again, plus the connection would help sell the story. She hadn’t been a fan of the leggy blondes he’d brought around, so something a bit more low-key might just do better.

“And Pat won’t kick my ass for moving in on his sister?”

“I’ll protect you from him,” Gena promised. “So, what do you think?”

Chris nodded, his shoulders lifting in a well, fuck it, why not? motion.

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

What’s the worst that can happen?

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About the Author Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing.

Jayce loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at