Shattered: Round Four (Broken Book 4) Read online

  SHATTERED: Round Four

  * * * *

  Copyright © 2015 by Skyla Madi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the International copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products that may be referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Halfway, ladies and gentlemen.

  Let’s do this!

  One

  ****

  Suffering

  Jai

  She shivers under the gentle brush of my lips as I glide them along her ribcage. The very tip of my cock slides in and out of her tight, wet pussy and a groan releases itself from my throat. It’s only the tip and I already want to fill her up. Being in her is my favorite part of the day. Together we are absolute perfection.

  Yin and Yang.

  Water and fire.

  She pushes her fingers through my hair, gripping slightly every time her hips flex against mine. From the harsh, fast pace of her breathing to the slick sweat on her skin, I live for it now. I have my brother. I got him back from Skull just like I said I would and on the way, I found her.

  Emily.

  Kitten.

  Mine.

  I’m at peace with it now—our predicament with Skull. The thirst for his blood no longer rages in my veins and my pride is sated enough to leave the country where we have a better chance at surviving. We could be gone. We could be living in a distant country with no worries in the world…except Joel is hell bent on rescuing his woman—a woman he took from Skull in the first place. I’ve tried talking him out of it. I’ve reasoned with him until I turned blue in the face, but there’s no changing his mind. Stubbornness is a Stone family trait.

  He claims he’s in love with Monique. He claims he’ll marry her and they’ll have children. The thought of it is enough to make me want to roll my eyes. It all seems a little “whirlwind” to me, but what can I do? If I say anything to him he flips it back on me, comparing my relationship with Emily to his relationship with Monique. They’re not even remotely the same. Emily didn’t belong to a powerful crime lord when we met—though I’m certain Skull begs to differ.

  If I’m being honest, I don’t recognize my brother anymore. He’s covered in tattoos. They blacken every limb and paint every inch, leaving his face untouched. He admitted to murdering a lot of people—bad people—but people none-the-less. He drinks a fuck load, despite always being against alcohol, and he apparently has grown accustom to snorting cocaine. In retrospect, he’s a stranger with the same name as my brother.

  “Hey...”

  Her soft whisper and the touch of her warm hands as they glide over my jaw and onto my cheeks pulls me out of my head. It’s a place I haven’t been able to escape since the night we saved Joel…and I’m suffering because of it, drowning in an abyss of irrationality.

  “What are you thinking about?” She asks, her pretty eyes shining with concern in the early morning light.

  I watched her sleep last night since my brain refused to allow me a few minutes of peace of my own. It was the first time I regretted the mission I set myself on. Why? Because I’ve selfishly fucked a lot of lives and for what? Joel didn’t want to be saved. He hasn’t said it, but I see it in his face. All he cares about is Skull’s whore. A whore who is probably as fucked up as Skull is. I don’t want to save her. Is that selfish?

  “Nothing.” I say.

  I shake my head and lean closer, planting three soft kisses up her neck and onto her jaw.

  With a defeated sigh, she pushes the palms of her hands against my chest, but I don’t budge.

  Instead, I trail my hungry lips to her mouth and catch her bottom lip between my teeth. She pulls away with a wince, pushing hard against my chest.

  “Jai.”

  Sighing, I slip from her body and roll onto my back as Emily climbs off the bed and drags herself to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I follow a crack in the paint on the ceiling.

  This is the fourth time in three days I’ve zoned out during sex and I do believe that was the last straw. Fuck, I can’t help it. I can’t get out of my own head. I’ve tried, but it’s like pushing a bicycle through wet, sticky tar.

  What pisses me off the most is the fact Joel hasn’t asked about Jessica yet. He has no idea she’s in Italy. He has no idea she’s even alive and do you think I’ve received a thank you for saving his pathetic ass? No. I only ruined my career and risked my life in the process. Is that not worthy of a thank you?

  I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m drowning in my own thoughts.

  Exhaling, I kick my sweatpants down the remainder of my legs and off the side of the bed before rolling on to my side. As I stare at the blaring, red numbers on the alarm clock sitting on my bedside table. Its eight a.m. already? Then the smells hit me and swirl around my nostrils, making my empty stomach clench. It’s yet another thing new Joel is addicted to that old Joel hated—greasy, fried breakfast foods. If you told me two years ago I’d be eating breakfast with a cocaine snorting, breakfast loving, tattoo enthusiast of a brother, I’d have laughed in your face. Oh, but how quickly the impossible becomes possible.

  The sound of shower jets blasting water against tiles forces me to push my naked ass off the bed and onto my feet. As I walk, I feel my body pull itself into a negative posture—shoulders slumped, chin dropped, feet dragging. I can’t kick it. I’ve punched, fucked, and ran for my life, but it’s still inside me—the bitterness, the anger—it lurks like cancer, growing as rapid and as aggressive as a tumor.

  And I can’t talk to him about it because talking to him about this whole situation is like standing too close to a lit firecracker and knowing it can go off at any second.

  I slide the base of my feet against the plush carpet and approach the bathroom door. As I slip the curved, stainless steel handle into my hand, I pause. What will I say? She’s never walked out on me before so I’m guessing “sorry about that” won’t fix anything this time.

  I don’t want to tell her I’m embarrassed. I worked up the reunion with Joel in my head for so long...it was supposed to be different. It wasn’t supposed to leave me wondering why I even bothered saving him in the first place.

  I push on the handle and open the door. Steam rushes out to meet my naked body and it clings to my skin, sending a rush of goosebumps across my torso. She turns her back to me, smoothing her hands over her dark, wet hair as I slip inside the room and close the door.

  I hate fighting with Emily. I mean, she’s not exactly the easiest woman to deal with and the girl can hold a grudge for days. If I don’t fix this now, she’ll ig
nore me until the end of time.

  As I pull open the shower door, puffs of thick steam billow out and Emily turns her back to me. Shivering, I slip inside and close the door behind me. Inside, heat engulfs me, eradicating my goosebumps one by one, until I’m as warm as asphalt under the morning sun.

  “You’re ignoring me?” I ask as I reach for the pink exfoliating sponge she requested I have Ted pick up from the store two days ago. Apparently, she could still feel the grime from the tunnels on her skin and needed to clean it from her pores.

  Emily slips out from underneath the jet of water and runs her soapy hands along her stomach.

  No response.

  I reach for the berry body wash, pour it on to the rough sponge, and soap it up in my hands as she pulls her long, dark hair to the side, exposing the soft curve of her shoulder.

  I hold the sponge in my hand, refusing to press it against her skin. “Emily?”

  She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes thinning into that sexy glare I liked so much when I met her.

  “Yes. I’m ignoring you.”

  Unexpectedly, she whips around on her heel, making me paint soap over her bare breasts. Her eyes are wide and the tip of her pointy, slender nose is as red as her rosy cheeks.

  “Is it me?”

  I pull the sponge from her chest and clench it in my hand. From the pressure, bubbles spill over and drop onto my foot.

  I almost laugh. “What?”

  She avoids my eyes, her worried expression now directed at the tiles. “Is it me?”

  “I thought you were ignoring me?”

  Emily exhales, annoyed. “Jai...”

  I drop the sponge and reach out to her with my soapy hands. I glide my palms up her slim forearms and grip her small biceps in my hand.

  “Is what you?”

  She slips away from me, pulling her biceps from my grasp. If someone became homeless every time this girl confused the shit out of me, just about every house in the world would be empty.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She gestures to me. “You! You’re a ten, pushing eleven and I’m what? A four at best?”

  I frown, confused. If she answered my question directly we’d be on the same page right now and since when did people rate the appearance of others on a scale of one to ten? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, considering everyone has different tastes. I might be a ten to Emily, but a three to someone else. The same goes for her. She might be a four to one guy, but she’s a million to me. Easy.

  “A four? What—”

  She purses her lips and chews the inside of her lip. “Is it something I’m doing? Is it me?”

  “No. No. It’s not you.”

  Fuck, she’s cute—even when her hair is slicked back against her head like that. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth and I can’t stop it. I like the balloon of happiness that inflates in my chest at the thought of her giving a shit.

  “Kitten—baby—relax.” I step closer to her as she swipes at a drop of water that runs down the slope of her nose.

  “Am I too aggressive? Too plain?” She glances down at her body. “Maybe I’m too skinny?”

  She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Or maybe I’m too fat—assuming you’ve dated tiny models in the past. Or may—why are you smiling at me?”

  “Because you’re being crazy.”

  “Crazy?”

  I nod. “Yes. Crazy.”

  As if she has anything to worry about. She is everything I want in a woman. She is intelligent, strong, humorous, beautiful, and loyal. The shape and density of her body doesn’t matter to me. I smooth my hands over the subtle curve of her hips and onto her round ass, pulling her hard against me. She gasps as my naked body slides effortlessly against hers and I dance my fingers up her spine, unrelenting, until she shivers against me.

  “Jai…” She sighs, relaxing into my fingers as I slip them into her hair and tug her head back.

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” I say, lowering my mouth to her jaw. “You drive me wild. I could come just looking at you.”

  Pulling back, she cocks a brow. “There has to be something wrong with me if I can’t keep you interested during sex.”

  I release my fingers from her hair. “It’s not you. I’m just...”

  How do I tell her? How do I tell her that I’m a fucking idiot? That this was all for nothing and we’ll probably all die trying to save Joel’s woman? We’ve had too many close calls with Skull. We’ve pushed our luck too many times. He’s been in this game longer than we have. It’s only a matter of time before he outsmarts us and after snatching Joel out from underneath him, I can’t imagine him forgetting about us.

  “When does it end?” I ask, planting a gentle kiss on her damp cheek.

  Emily frowns. “Sex?”

  “No. Not sex. Joel. Skull. When does it end?”

  “It doesn’t end...” She says, brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek. “Until Skull is dead we’ll never be free.”

  Emily speaks the truth and, if I’m being honest, the truth has never sounded so terrifying. I inhale, filling my lungs with heavy steam. I’m not scared of much…but being the reason someone else suffers is something I can’t handle. Exhaling, I slip my arms around her waist.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  Emily chews the inside of her lip, apparently contemplating my question. I want her to forbid me from helping Joel and to beg me not to go back for Monique. I want her to ask me to run away with her, like she did before we saved Joel. I refused then, but now…now I just might go for it.

  “Well…” She clears her throat. “Would you go back for me?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  She bites a smile that tries to spread across her lips. “He loves her and, from what I can tell, he’d die for her. Whether or not that influences your decision, I don’t know.”

  I tilt my head. “So, you’re saying I should to it for love?”

  She shrugs her slender shoulders. “I’m saying your brother won’t feel complete unless he has her. Imagine how he feels right now? Knowing the love of his life is being held captive by another man—a man like Skull, no less. It makes me sick.”

  I pull her in, pressing her cheek against my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head. I reflect back on Joel’s behavior the past few days. He doesn’t sleep, he spaces out, and has extreme bouts of anger. Twice I’ve walked in on him, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. He loves her. He loves her harder than I’ve seen him love anything and with or without me, he’s going back for the girl.

  Two

  ****

  Brothers

  Emily

  I finish running the towel over my hair and drop it to the floor. A spattering of droplets coat the bathroom mirror and I lean in close to check the skull tattoo on my collarbone. It has healed completely, its black ink marking my skin for the rest of my life. I scratch at it.

  Yep. It’s real.

  I don’t know why I keep expecting it to rub off. I suck air into my cheeks and blow it out. I fucking hate it. I hate that it’s a skull and what it represents.

  Fear and possession.

  It’s the symbol of a psychopath who suffered through a horrific, unspeakable tragedy and decided to do unto others as he had done unto him. It’s sick. To make others feel the pain he felt in the moment his wife and his unborn baby were ripped from his life is...is…not something I want to think about before breakfast. Anything Skull related usually has the power to turn my stomach and, since the smell of bacon hangs so deliciously in the air, I don’t want that to happen this morning.

  Sighing, I pluck the purple hair brush from the basin and run it through my long hair. It catches on tangles and knots, but, with a little girl power, I manage to brush them free. I don’t usually put a lot of effort into my morning rituals, but since Jai’s brother ‘moved’ in I feel the need to try a little harder. It’s kind of stupid, but I want to be up to par with the standard
s he undoubtedly has for his baby brother.

  Placing the brush on the basin, I stick my fingers in my hair and give it a little shake, adding just the right amount of ‘mess’. I don’t want to look like I spent too much time on my appearance intentionally. I lean in close to the mirror, checking the light touch of make-up I applied. I never thought I’d ever admit it, but the right mascara can do wonders for a plain face.

  I straighten my spine, flick my long, dark hair over my shoulders, and smooth my palms down the front of my worn, black Lynyrd Skynyrd tee. It’s my favorite. I stole it from a guy I slept with once when I was a slightly younger, slightly stupider, woman. To be honest, it was the highlight of my year—the shirt, not the sex. Everything about the sex was “mediocre”. If you know what I mean.

  Leaving the bathroom, I follow the smell of breakfast foods all the way to the kitchen. I feel the tension in the air as soon as I enter the room. It’s thick. Suffocating. I didn’t expect to see so much hostility between the brothers. The way Jai described his relationship with his brother was a bond unlike any other. I assumed Joel was his best friend.

  Not anymore, apparently.

  Disappointment exudes from Jai in waves as he rest on his elbow, lightly stabbing his fork into a slice of banana. The mood in the room is depressing and awkward, dampening my joy of the breakfast foods laid out on the bench in front of me. Like Jai, Joel also has a knack for cooking. Since being here at the lake house I’ve put on weight. It’s not much, but my hip bones aren’t as sharp as they were weeks ago and my face is fuller. I kind of like the look. It’s the body of a woman who is well looked after and, dare I say it without jinxing myself, happy.

  At the stove, Joel has his back to me as he fries up what smells a little something like salmon. Like Jai, Joel keeps himself in fantastic condition. His body is an orgy of muscle. He’s taller than Jai, but not by much and while Jai’s muscles are built wide, making him thick, Joel is lean.

  I glance at the ink on Joel’s back. It’s a picture—a mixture of black ink and shadows with light smatterings of color.