Guilty pleasures

Kat~

A funeral has an eerie way of uniting families, and ours seemed to be drawing closer with every passing day.

"Does it seem like we've done a few too many of these lately?" I muttered, my voice barely audible over the din of the room. We had been paying our respects far too frequently.

I leaned against the long wooden bar at Midnight Mass, surrounded by my brothers and family, and felt a sense of dread wash over me. We were all gathered together to celebrate Lance Decker's life. And his widow just walked in.

"Fuck, yeah. Too many," Virgil growled and took a fortifying sip of whiskey before he smacked the bar and walked off toward Maisie, who'd barely escaped this fate a few months back.

"It's the nature of the business," Jasper said in his usual gruff, rational tone. "He was a good man, though. A damn good man."

I nodded as a pretty brunette with big sparkling blue eyes walked around, looking completely overwhelmed. I pushed off the bar, turning to Jasper with a grin.

"Good try at being a human. Add a bit more emotion and say that to his widow, Vanessa." The poor woman looked devastated and out of place, how I imagined most women would look if they lost the man they loved. "Come on."

"Do I have to? This is more your thing, or Ma's."

I rolled my eyes and shoved away from him. "You're the big brother, act like it."

"Jesus, Kat. Do you ever stop?"

"No." I laughed and shoulder bumped Jasper. "You can kill a man without blinking an eye but an emotional female sends you running? Pathetic."

I made my way through the crowd, greeting people and accepting condolences as I went. It was a somber affair, but that was to be expected. When I finally reached Vanessa, she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Vanessa? I'm Kat Ashby. Lance was an incredible man. I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Really." I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze that made her breath hitch.

"Thank you for this," she said softly.

"Of course. Lance was a good man. He will be missed."

She nodded and took a deep breath.

I reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "It's the least we can do. If there's anything else we can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Ms. Ashby."

"This is my brother, Jasper. Drink?"

She flashed a hesitant smile at my scowling brother before her blue gaze met mine once again. "I would love a drink. Strong and on the rocks."

I glared at Jasper until he took a step forward and wrapped his big hands around Vanessa's delicate, slender hands. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Decker. Lance was our loss as well."

His words sounded sincere and she nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Ashby."

I listened as my brother talked with Vanessa, offering his words of condolence and comfort. We would take care of her, just as Lance would have wanted us to. She was family now.

Family was everything to us. It was the only thing that mattered. And we would do whatever it took to protect our own.

Then with a grunt of sympathy, Jasper took off in the direction of Ma, who looked like she was having a serious work-related discussion with her butler.

"Don't mind Jasper. He's a bit of a robot at times. Not good in moments like this, but otherwise, it's an excellent quality."

In a leader, sure, but it was also the reason Jasper was single. Perpetually single, in fact. Not that I could talk when it came to matters of the heart, but at least I knew my flaws. "Let's go get that drink."

Vanessa nodded, her thick chocolate waves falling around her shoulders in a way that had some of the guys eyeing the beautiful widow in ways they shouldn't. At least not quite so soon.

"Let's," she said in a voice that showed the strain of the last few days.

"Clontarf, on the rocks for my friend Vanessa and another for me. Neat." Midnight Mass had been closed for the memorial celebration so there would be no interruptions. No unwanted guests. "Seriously, your husband was a good man."

"You knew him well?" she asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Not well, no. But he gave me a few pointers on handling a new Springfield Hellcat, said I reminded him of a woman he served with, only she was scrawnier."

She laughed and shook her head, taking the drink with a smile that made the new bartender blush and lick his lips. Fucking men. No class at all. "That sounds like Lance. Charming as hell when he wanted to be, the rest of the time that size fourteen foot was stuck in his mouth."

I laughed to keep her company. "I didn't mind. Growing up with brothers, I got used to the clumsy compliments of tough guys." It was nice to have someone to shoot the shit with, who only wanted to shoot, not talk until they'd uttered every word in the English language. "Let's sit."

We grabbed a booth and sat in silence for a long moment, both of us simply savoring the taste of the alcohol, reconciling the jovial atmosphere with the cloud of sadness hanging over us all.

"I miss him so much already," she said. Sniffling started and tears welled in her eyes. "We were high school sweethearts. I haven't been with anyone other than Lance. What am I gonna do without him?"

Her tears began in earnest and unlike the men in the Ashby family, I knew how to comfort someone in grief.

I'd had enough practice at it and this woman's grief lay at my family's feet. Sure, Lance knew the deal, but that didn't change the truth. I slid from my side of the booth and around to Vanessa, wrapping my arms around her while she sobbed against my shoulder.

Her pain was real, so visceral it sent a shockwave of grief through me until I felt my own eyes sting with the threat of tears. I did what I always did when it came to tears, shoved them back down deep where they belonged and focused on the matter at hand.

Vanessa.

I held her close while she cried for the only man she'd ever loved. Now she had to learn to live without that love. What does that kind of love feel like? Thoughts of love, of course, sent my gaze in search of the familiar crop of blond hair that belonged to a man I'd loved since I was a teenager. Terry Manning.

He chatted with everyone and wore a big wide smile that made the object of his attention at the moment feel like they were the most important person in the room, the most interesting and engaging individual he'd ever met. Unless you were me. Around me, you'd think I had the plague.

He was the perfect lieutenant for Jasper, friendly and outgoing, better at working the room than my brother. It was probably what made them best friends, closer than brothers. And that closeness meant he could never, ever, be mine. Ever.

Terry's gaze caught mine and held me in its grip for several seconds, mocking and sparkling with mischief, before he looked away.

I sighed heavily and hugged Vanessa a little bit tighter, feeling greater sympathy for losing Lance. "I can't say I've ever had the kind of love you and Lance had, Vanessa, but I've experienced loss. Too much fucking loss. I know you might think it's too soon, but the road to healing starts with booze and when that's finished, more booze."

I flagged the bartender for another round, determined to do what I could to make this day just a little easier for her.

She laughed over the sob choking her throat and sat back, reaching for a handful of napkins to dry her tears. "Is that cute blond your man?"

Dammit, I'd been caught. "No. That's my brother's best friend, Terry."

She guessed correctly. "But you want him to be," she said, suddenly less teary-eyed and more interested.

I nodded, figuring any distraction was better than having her thinking about her dead husband, even if it was my own humiliation. "I used to. Fancied myself in love with him as a teenager, but there are plenty of reasons it could never work, mostly because he's my brother's best friend, and he doesn't like me."

Vanessa laughed and the sound was pretty and musical. I could see why Lance was so smitten with her. "Those are stupid reasons; you know that right?"

I shook my head. "I used to think so too but look at them." I pointed to where they were deep in conversation in a dim corner. "They're closer than brothers."

"But he's not your brother. Lance was best friends with my older sister, and I always had a crush on him, but a three-year age difference is a lifetime when you're teenagers. Then Sarah, my sister, got leukemia, and Lance and I grew closer. He resisted me, especially after her death. I was barely in High School. It was hard, Kat, but it was worth it. He was worth it," she said and burst into tears once more. "Life is too short to not be happy."

Her words struck me hard, and I tossed back another whiskey with a brittle smile on my face. "Maybe you're right, Vanessa, but that's an issue for another day."

"Vanessa, dear." Sadie stopped at the table, looking every bit the Irish American matriarch in her black Chanel and matching black pearls. "Lance will be missed by us all. And if you need anything, consider the Ashby family, your family."

Vanessa blinked her pretty blue eyes up at Sadie in confusion. "Are you serious?" she shook her head. "I had no idea this was his security job and you people; you've all been so nice. So kind." More tears came and Sadie looked about as ready to bolt as Virgil had at the sight of tears, vulnerability. "Your son, Calvin, sent a housekeeper and meal delivery last week."

"Family," Sadie said and grabbed her hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze, before she stepped into the middle of the room to get everyone's attention. "Lance was a good man. A great man with an incredible work ethic and a deep-rooted protective nature that served him well in the Navy as a SEAL, but also within the Ashby organization."

Terry and Jasper pounded on the bar, whistling loudly and more people joined in. "To Lance. May he watch over us all and rest peacefully while we find the bastards who did this."

The smile Sadie wore was sweet and innocent, strong enough to fool the untrained eye, but the seething anger she felt was practically a living, breathing thing.

And I knew there'd be hell to pay. More violence and more death, to make up for what we all had lost. And because, as a family, we had to make a point. No one fucked with the Ashbys and lived to tell the tale.

"This is all so strange," Vanessa said and looked around. "I don't know any of these people, but they all knew my husband." She looked overwhelmed, so filled with grief that it made my own heart break, for Ma never grieving like that over our worthless father, for me for never loving someone that deeply.

"You should talk to them. Find out about the Lance they knew. Share in their memories of your man."

Her smile was hesitant but as Vanessa looked around the room, her smile grew. "You know what, I think I will." She stopped at the bar for another drink and inserted herself into the first circle she found.

Vanessa will be all right. I didn't know much about her beyond what Lance had said, but I knew that much.

There was a whole lot more that I had no fucking clue about, starting with the fact that Lance died protecting that Rhymer bitch, which meant she was as responsible as the fuckers who took her. Not to mention the big fight featuring Ravager. The fight was huge and there was a ton of money at stake on both sides. And now there was a distinct possibility that Brendan Rhymer was still alive.

It was so much shit and it was all happening at once, and worse; it was all pretty much out of my control. It was like being the lone little girl in a family dominated by alphas, of both genders.

"Such a shame." Terry smacked his lips as his lean body cast a shadow over the table. "There's this nice party going on and still, you can't relax."

His voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I took a deep, cleansing breath before I turned a bored look up at him.

"This is me relaxing. Not all of us need to be the center of attention to relax."

It was one of his most engaging qualities, always grabbing the limelight, but I'd always hated it because he pulled everyone near him in. Everyone but me.

"I can't help it if people like to be around me." He shrugged and dropped down on the booth seat right beside me. "I'm just that kind of guy, I guess."

He was. Terry was the definition of the life of the party with a ready smile for just about everyone, maybe a compliment too. "And I guess I'm just a girl who can't relax." Not that Terry knew what it was like to have the weight of the world on his shoulders and nor would he care about the weight I had to carry.

"Did you come over here to bust my balls or did you want something?"

His blue eyes looked at me, and I swore he could see down to my soul, but that was just wishful thinking. Remnants from a childhood crush that had never fully died.

How could it when he was always around, that nearly white blond hair in such stark contrast to his sun-kissed skin and those blue, blue eyes that made him look so much softer than he was. And, good God, that plump bottom lip that pulled beautifully when he smiled. And he was always smiling.

"I just came to see why you're scowling at a mighty fine whiskey."

"Thinking," I told him honestly. "There's a lot going on right now."

"Yeah, there is. But this is the Ashby family. Something is always going on. Figured you'd be used to it by now."

I laughed bitterly. "Are you used to your family situation yet?"

He froze and flashed a sarcastic grin. "Nope."

"Then you understand."

"A bit too much," he said before taking a long pull from his beer bottle. "Let your hair down, Kat. Enjoy life a little." His tone had changed along with his proximity.

Our thighs were side by side, touching ever so slightly as he leaned in and grabbed a lock of my hair, wrapping it slowly, teasingly, around two fingers. He gave it a gentle tug and stared into my eyes for so long that my heart started to race and my mind began to wonder. To hope.

Was this the moment Terry would finally realize the chemistry between us, the fire that arced whenever we were close? Would he continue to deny it? Or was the truth a little more brutal? That maybe, just maybe, Terry wasn't interested.

Maybe it was all in my head. And I needed to get it on straight.

He leaned forward a little more and I thought-no I hoped-his lips would brush against mine. Instead, he looked into my eyes, smiled and released my hair. So he could walk away.

So fucking stupid. I left the booth soon after and ordered another drink, trying to figure out why he had such a strong hold on me. It wasn't love. It was a crush that I'd let get out of control, intensified by a distinct lack of man-generated orgasms. I longed to wrap my arms and legs around a hard-bodied male and stay there until I couldn't walk.

The memorial was in full swing, and I was on the wrong side of tipsy with an early day tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

I pressed speed dial number three and made my way toward the door. "Oliver, it's Kat. Can you give me a lift home?"

"I'll be at the front door in sixty seconds."

"Thanks." It was the perfect amount of time to make hasty goodbyes so I could go home.

Far, far away from Terry Manning and his effect on me.

Terry

The walls of The House of Ashby reverberated with the sounds of gloves striking flesh, sneakers pounding concrete and grunts of effort echoing off the brick interior. Everywhere I looked, I saw a sea of determined fighters attempting to hone their skill and reach new heights in the sport they loved.

It was at this place of sweat and struggle, where dreams were born and sacrificed, that I found my younger brother standing next to the ring where Rob "Ravager" Regan was training for his first shot at a belt.

Ravager was a heavyweight star on the rise, and I was in awe at what my brother had helped him achieve.

I couldn't have been prouder.

But Emmett didn't need to know that.

"Rob has good reflexes, but he drops his guard too fucking often. It's a KO waiting to happen." It wasn't my place to give advice to Emmett. I wasn't a fighter or a trainer, at least not at the caliber of Em, but I knew how to brawl.

"I know," he growled at me, unhappy that his prize fighter's weakness was so easy to spot. "He's better than he was a year ago, by a lot, plus he's younger and faster than his opponent. The win is practically guaranteed." Emmett's eyes never left the big man in the ring, working on his combos and defense moves.

I nodded at his words, listening even though I knew something Emmett didn't. The outcome of the fight had already been decided. The only thing necessary was for Ravager to do what the fuck he was told.

"And none of that will fucking matter if he can't protect his noggin. You should probably tell him that," I growled, much harsher than I needed to be.

Emmett, for his part, nodded, accepting the advice even though it was clear that he didn't want it. It was always like that with us, him not wanting my advice.

Even though we were brothers, we hadn't really grown up together until high school, when both of our moms had decided it was time to stop being a parent and start partying. Hard.

"You hear from Dad lately?"

I shook my head, gaze fixed on Ravager's wide-open face, just waiting for a night-night punch. "No. I've been too busy working and dealing with my own shit to worry about our old man. What about you? Are things all right?"

Barely two years had passed since Emmett had been honorably discharged from the Army where he'd caught a severe case of PTSD.

"Things are fine, Terry." He spit out the words, clearly annoyed, which I could deal with as long as I knew he was all right.

"You sure? There's no harm in needing more time."

He wouldn't talk about what happened over there, not to me and not to any type of mental health professional. He put all his energy into fighting inside the ring and then turned to coaching because he refused to deal with his shit and Sadie wouldn't stand for an unstable player. At least not that type of unstable.

"I said I'm fine, man. Damn."

"Yeah, I heard you. But your anger says otherwise." He glared at me, and I raised my arms defensively. "Excuse me for giving a shit."

Finally, his blue gaze, identical to my own, left Ravager and landed on me. It was the only trait we shared. Both of us inherited it from our old man, but I got my mom's blonde hair and Emmett's was the same deep brown as his mother's.

We couldn't be more different in demeanor and temperament, but with matching shitty childhoods, we were more alike in the ways that counted.

"I need to talk to Ravager," he said and walked away calmly, broad shoulders leaving no doubt that he could and would kick ass if he needed to, despite his soft-spoken words and almost shy personality.

I watched Emmett go, hoping he was all right, because as shitty as it sounded, I didn't have the time to worry about him, too. Savannah Rhymer was in the wind, and Lance's death was on her fucking head as far as I was concerned.

The front door opened to the testosterone-fueled training center for up and coming fighters, and in walked Kat Ashby. She acted as though she was completely unaware of the effect she had on people as she strode across the floor, finishing up a phone call.

Her gaze was focused on some spot in front of her, but she was oblivious to the stares her fitted black dress caused or the dicks rising at the sight of those fire-engine red, fuck-me heels.

I was convinced she knew precisely the effect she had on men. Still, as I watched Kat walk toward the practice ring where Emmett and Rob spoke in hushed tones, I could admit there was no extra swing in her hips, no pouty lips to tease the boys. Or the girls.

Nope, that was Kat's style. Instead, she managed to sidestep or skip over every fighter and trainer she encountered as if oblivious to them at the same time. It was quite a talent, one only someone like the Ashby Princess could master so easily. With her phone call finished, she began to swipe across the screen. Always working.

I watched, amused as her steps slowed about five feet from me, her eyes still focused on her phone screen until she practically ran me over.

"Whoa sweetheart, if you want a piece all you have to do is ask."

I regretted the move instantly because putting my hands on her shoulders, her bare shoulders, sent a thunderbolt of want right through me, which was something I couldn't afford. Not now.

Not ever.

My words or maybe it was my proximity, brought those sexy red heels to a screeching halt. She looked up slowly until her gaze met mine. "Terry. Fancy running into you here."

"Stopped by to have coffee with Emmett. Good morning."

"Busy morning is more like it," she said with a sigh that seemed a mix of annoyed and enthused. I could never tell if she was irritated by me or if that was simply her default setting.

"How are you, Terry?" she asked in a tone that sent a chill up my spine and a flash of heat to my dick.

I blinked, surprised at her words though I shouldn't be. Kat was nothing if not nice to everyone. Sure, she gave me shit but it was all good natured. "Good, I suppose. Still fucking pissed off about Lance."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'll sleep a lot easier when that Rhymer cunt is no longer breathing."

Kat's words shouldn't have shocked me, but they did. She wasn't the foul-mouthed little girl she'd pretended to be when we were younger, and she didn't seem to have the same bloodlust that drove Jasper and Virgil.

"No shit," was all I could manage in reply before Emmett joined us, wariness swimming in his eyes.

"Hey Kat, how's it going?" he said with a smile finally breaking out.

I envied the effortless way Emmett and Kat could talk to each other, without the snark and sarcasm-or the bickering. Or maybe I didn't? Getting Kat riled up was one of my guilty pleasures, and she always made it worth it. Always.

"It's nonstop busy until after this fight, which brings me to why I'm here," she said with a sheepish smile. "I mean, I'm good, Emmett. How are you?"

His lips twitched, and I outright laughed, earning me a sapphire-colored glare that widened my smile. "I'm good, Kat. What brings you by?"

Kat smiled and shook her head. "I need you to do some press leading into fight night. I know you don't like to do it, but the people of Glitz and Vegas love you and your story," she said with a smile. "A vet and a fighter turned coach, you're practically a unicorn. Besides all that, you show up and talk technical fight shit and you'll solidify your role as a top trainer in the league."

Emmett rubbed a hand over his thick brown hair and grinned. "Shouldn't you let me give you a few objections first?" His lips twitched in amusement, and I was glad Kat's gaze was on him because my big ass grin would have pissed her off but good.

Kat's smile dimmed, replaced by what I liked to call her uptight corporate chick personality. Like a Stepford, only hotter. Way fucking hotter. She smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her black dress and put one hand on her hip while the other held the tablet in a white-knuckle grip.