Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4) (11 page)

Under normal circumstances, sipping bergamot tea on a rooftop lounge overlooking the Mediterranean ocean would be wonderful.

Except, being there with your secret ex-boyfriend while trying to espionage your way into a fortress defended by mercenaries who've kidnapped your brother is hardly a normal circumstance.

Bryce says nothing sitting next to me at the table; basically the same not-talking crap we've been sticking to ever since I got into the hotel last night. There's a tension between us, but it's not just from the Anderson thing.

It's the lingering memory of that one searing kiss.

It's the same reason why I could barely walk back in there and say goodnight to Anderson and keep him hooked for another meet. Because after hurricane Bryce outside, I wanted nothing more than to let myself get caught up and swept away.

I'm furious at him for kissing me like that though, and furious at myself for letting him. I let my guard down and I let my defenses drop, and it was just enough to let him in like that; him and all the conflicted feelings that come with him.

But we're not doing that; not ever again, and certainly not here with all that's at stake right now.

"Ahh, there they are."

I bristle at the sound of Sasha's voice, but it's nothing compared to the feeling of rage that spikes through me when Bryce
gets out of his seat
and pulls out her chair.

Are you fucking kidding me?

This man
does not
pull out chairs, and the fact that he's smirking at me over her shoulder while he does it has me balling my fists up under the table and ready to launch across the table to push the both of them over the terrace balcony.

Speaking of jealousy.

I need to focus, but it's kind of hard when she's laughing at something he says; her hand touching his arm. Forget focusing; it's enough to get my temper rising inside like a roaring blaze.

I know I've got no right to feel this way, especially after how I acted and
reacted
to what happened last night. And the past is the past; me of all people should know that. But
his
past is sitting right there in front of me, flirting with him and making my blood boil in ways I didn't know it could.

But what makes this even worse is him flirting right back at her. Or at least, it feels like he is; like he's rubbing my face in it. I quickly find myself starting to appreciate the feelings that must have been going through
his
mind last night, watching me with Anderson.
 

I think this is what they call "getting a taste of your own medicine."

He's more charming than he was the day before; I know I'm not making this up. I mean this is Bryce Connors,
smiling
and being conversational. And it's making me furious.
 

"Hey, remember that one night in Angola?" He says, grinning at her. She barks out a laugh, and they just chuckle together as if the story is so fresh they don't even need to say it out loud.

Yeah, don't mind me, guys. I'll just sit here and fucking nod like an idiot while you rehash your drug addict pasts.

Goddamnit, I
am
jealous.

Sasha turns and smiles that viper smile at me; "So, Peyton." My attention snaps to her bitchy face; "How'd things go last night?"

Confusing, conflicting, and it's messing with my head in ways I can't even begin to describe.

"They went fine."

She nods; "Good. He asked about you today, you know."

Great.

"So when can you meet him again maybe for something more...
intimate
this time?"

Bryce's face goes red and he bares his teeth, like some sort of animal; "She has a boyfriend."

Sasha shoots him a look; "Oh really?" She says, eyeing Bryce's suddenly stoic look with a predatory grin.

"I can meet him whenever, that's no problem," I say evenly, leveling my eyes at Bryce.

"Wonderful, let's say tonight then. We need to move things along so that he gets you access to the monastary and your brother."

Bryce's tea-cup comes crashing down on the table, cracking the saucer beneath it; "Fuck this, this is a terrible plan."

"Do you have a better one?" Sasha says sweetly, ignoring the broken dish.

"I'm working on it. We're not sending her in to- to do
that
."

I swallow heavily; "Tonight it is." I shoot him a look, as if to remind him that he doesn't own me.

Sasha grins that wicked smile at the two of us knowingly and chuckles; "Well, this
has
been fun." She turns to Bryce; "And your friend in the State Department is still willing to go through with our arrangement?"

"Yes," He growls through clenched teeth.

"Well then, I'll be seeing you two later." Neither of us say a word as Sasha slinks out of her seat and slips away.

"You're not fucking doing this."

"It's not your decision," I spit out, standing to leave.

"The fuck it isn't."
 

I gasp as I feel his hand shoot out and grab my wrist; "Get your hands off me, don’t touch me“

"Not if it means
his
hands get to."

"You don't get to make those decisions anymore," I say quickly, shaking his hand off and running for the door.

I can do this.

That's not to say I'm not utterly terrified and trying hard not think about what "doing this" may actually mean later. But I know deep down that I can take anything. After the childhood
I
had? Yeah, I can take it.

I hope.

I've got the hotel room to myself, which is fine because I need to clear my head and get my thoughts in line for what I have to do.
 

I've told Bryce not to be there at the restaurant where I'll be meeting Anderson, which of course triggered him storming out of the room, but again, that's fine. I just need to get through this, because damn it, I am
going
to get my brother back.

The stone-lined streets of the city are lit up like a candle-lit dreamscape after dark. Lanterns and candelabras fill the air with an almost mystical glow as I make my way to the restaurant. The thought occurs to me that this would be beautiful if I could even think of that right now.

There's a moment where I wonder if he'll even be here. For a flash of second, right before I walk into the restaurant, there's this glimmer of hope in the back of my head that he bailed, or lost interest, or hell, even maybe got wise to our plan.

No luck, of course.

He's there, grinning at me when I walk in, and it's not thirty seconds later when I realize who
else
is here as well.

Goddamnit, Bryce.

He's sitting at the bar, eyeing me with a dark look as he nurses a coffee. This is
exactly
why I didn't want him here. Because I don't know if I can do this anyways, but with him here, all bets are off.

"Heya babe! Lookin
hot
tonight!" Anderson is drunk of course, or at least well on his way to being there when he wraps me in a gross, sweaty bear hug.

"Um, thanks," I say, smiling thinly as I pull away from his embrace and sit at our table. He's ordered me a drink already, again.

"So, couldn't get enough of the Bull, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

He grins this smug, piggy smile at me; "Oh, yeah, that's just my nickname some of the guys call me;
The Bull
." I cringe as he snorts loudly, his fingers on his forehead like horns and drawing virtually every eye in the place to our table.
 

This is exactly the type of man I hate, because he reminds me of Bill. Mulish, loud, drunk, and obnoxious, all with that mean streak in his eyes. This is exactly the type of man who'd terrorize anyone around him just because he could and they couldn't fight back. This is the type of man who'd hit a high school girl; who'd laugh while he burned her with a cigarette.

Get through this. Just get through this for Logan.

"So what brings you to Istanbul, babe?"

"Oh, business." I've already planned these answers; “My company is making some land deals here."

Anderson snorts on his drink; "Well, well! A workin lady! I always wanted to land me a rich gal!"

Against every warning bell inside my head, I chance a look over his shoulder at Bryce, who's quite openly just
staring
at the back of Anderson's back like he wants him to spontaneously explode under his gaze.

Anderson suddenly reaches across the table and grabs my hands, rubbing them hard and aggressively but in a way I'm sure he thinks, or maybe read in some guy magazine, demonstrates his affections or turns me on or something.

Spoiler: it doesn't.

I chance another glance towards the bar and see Bryce's eyes burning holes in the back of Anderson's head, murder in his look.

Just get through this
.

I go through the rest of my fake story while Anderson finishes his drink, then a second, and then mine, since I obviously haven't touched it. I tell him about the colleges I never went to, the house in Malibu I don't have, and the ski-trip to Switzerland I'm not taking next month while he eye-rollingly orders the both of us the closest thing to a hamburger you could hope to get at a small restaurant in Turkey.
 

It's a constant struggle to keep the smile on my face as he gets drunker and drunker. Because the more he drinks, and the louder he gets, the closer to Bill he gets in my eye. And that nagging, horrible little burning thought in the back of my head about what
probably
needs to come later tonight has me almost gagging on my food.

But I have to do this, because family is family, and it took me most of my life to find one who loved me and I'm sure as hell not going to give up on him.

"Well, Anderson,
thank you
for such a lovely evening!" I smile as I put my napkin down. He's wasted; looking at me cockeyed as he sips his whiskey and slumps in his chair.

This might just be the miracle I need; a date that's far too drunk to do anything but go home and sleep. I'm not saying I
can't
do this, but I'll certainly put it off as long as I fucking can.

His hand moves across the table faster than I'd ever give him credit for and tightly grabs my wrist; "Hey now, hell no. The night's not even begun, babe."

I knew this is where this was headed when I signed up for this, but the reality has my whole body freezing up; my heart pounding in my throat.

I
have
to do this, for my family

"Oh, I-

OK, I lied, I can't do this. The revelation hits me the second I look down into Anderson’s horribly learing face and see the terrible man I killed there in his eyes. And suddenly, the whole plan is crumbling around me, because I know right there that there's no fucking
way
I can do this.

"Oh c’mon now, honey." He's leaning close across the already small table, touching my hands, making my blood freeze as he gets closer and closer with those piggish eyes gleaming at me; "Let's go find ourselves a quiet place and keep the party going."

"I-"

And then it's not Anderson in front of me anymore, it's fully Bill. It's Bill bullying me around, Bill ordering me to do something, Bill opening the bathroom door while I'm showering and grinning at me while I shriek. He may have never touched me in
that
way, aside from the hits and the slaps and the burns, but they were the same lingering looks and leers that this man is giving me right now. And I'm slowly feeling myself freeze up, losing my ability to say no, or really anything else as he invades my personal space, slowly wearing and breaking me down.