I had to take a few extra minutes to get my feet back under me so I sucked back the rest of the coffee and shoved open the door. I wasn’t surprised to see a tall figure coming around the SUV as I labored out of the sports car. My brother was an inch or so taller than me and built more along the lines of a warrior. His dark-brown hair was buzzed in a typical military cut and his pale-blue eyes, the same icy shade as mine, looked tired as he forced a smile at me. I let out a whistle because his left arm was in a cast and sling, he had a walking boot on one foot, and there was a nasty line of black stitches running through one of his eyebrows and across his forehead. The Weedwacker that had attacked my hair had clearly gotten a good shot at my big bro, too.
“Looking good, soldier.”
He pulled me to him in a one-armed hug and I winced for him when I felt the taped-up side of his body clearly indicating some injury beyond the busted ribs. “I look about as good as I feel. You look like a clown getting out of that car.”
“I look like a clown no matter what when I’m around that girl.” He barked out a laugh and rubbed a rough hand through my spiky hair.
“You and Shaw are still acting like mortal enemies?”
“More like uneasy acquaintances. She’s just as prissy and judgmental as always. Why didn’t you call or email me that you were hurt? I had to hear it from Shaw on the way over.”
He swore as we started to slowly make our way toward the house. It upset me to see how deliberate he was moving and I wondered if the damage was more serious than what was visible.
“I was unconscious after the Hummer flipped. We drove over an IED and it was bad. I was in the hospital for a week with a scrambled noggin, and when I woke up they had to do surgery on my shoulder so I was all drugged up. I called Mom and figured she would let you know what the deal was, but I heard that, as usual, you were unavailable when she called.”
I shrugged a shoulder and reached out a hand to steady him as he faltered a little on the stairs to the front door. “I was busy.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“Not too stubborn. I’m here aren’t I? I didn’t even know you were home until this morning.”
“The only reason you’re here is because that little girl in there is bound and determined to keep this family together regardless if we’re her own or not. You go in there and play nice; otherwise, I’ll kick your ass, broken arm and all.”
I muttered a few choice words and followed my battered sibling into the house. Sundays really were my least favorite day.
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About the Author
Jay Crownover lives in Colorado. She loves tattoos and body modification and loves to incorporate what she sees into her writing. She loves to read, particularly any kind of great story that engages; and of course a pretty, tatted-up bad boy always makes it better.
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Copyright
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by Harper 2014
Copyright © Jennifer M Voorhees 2014
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014
Cover photograph © Wolf/Corbis
Jennifer M Voorhees asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007579051
Ebook Edition © April 2014 ISBN: 9780007579068
Version: 2014-04-09
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Jay Crownover, Nash
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