Chapter 4

It was a fair assessment to say I never agreed with my brother Syre about anything. He was a wild card on a good day. He was the type of person who did whatever he wanted and let other people worry about the consequences. My auntie used to say he had a death wish. Now that she was dead and our oldest brother was fighting for his life, anyone who knew Syre expected him to come unraveled any minute now.

Surprisingly, he had done the exact opposite. Since my cousins and I agreed that he was the right person to oversee the family business in my brother’s absence, he had really stepped up to the plate in a major way. I couldn’t lie. I was worried about putting him in position to bring our family down. Syre was smart as fuck, but with that hairpin trigger, he was likely to self-destruct.

We didn’t take the decision to put him in control lightly. I actually proposed that Deacon take over since he was the most organized and headstrong. People would listen to him. His position as a homicide detective caused a conflict of interest when it came to running our family’s crime syndicate.

No one wanted to put him in a position to have to defend his position against the department. We needed him to be our eyes and ears on the inside. Syre didn’t take his position lightly. He was doing a damn good job at keeping a level head. Dare I even say I was proud of him.

Don’t get me wrong. There had been other times that I was proud of my baby brother, like when he graduated from college and when he started his security company. Success was different though. Success wasn’t something to be celebrated in our family. It was expected. All the pressure to succeed was the reason I smoked half an ounce of weed every day. Everybody felt like they had something to prove.

Being raised in a house where I was damn near smack dab in the middle of six children was a headache. Being the middle child was a blessing and a curse. While I went ignored, they all were constantly under my aunt’s watchful eyes. I pretty much did what I wanted to, which was usually smoking a boat load of weed and building games and websites. I had been doing both practically my entire life.

After losing both our parents, my brothers and I were sent to live with my aunt and uncle who already had three kids of their own. From the day we arrived, we were in constant competition. For the most part, it was friendly competition. Either way, I didn’t care to partake. I stayed in my own lane where there was no competition.

My cousins wanted to prove to their mom, the former senator and overachieving workaholic, that they could be just as successful as she was. My brothers wanted to prove that they were good enough to be considered her own children and that they could persevere in spite of their circumstances.

While my youngest brother was plagued with survivor’s remorse, my oldest brother battled the loneliness of losing both of his parents at such a young age. While they were dealing with their own ‘I don’t have parents’ issues, I was left feeling empty and numb because I couldn’t even remember our parents enough to miss them.

I felt the absence but wasn’t really sure why. I was almost ashamed to admit that I didn’t remember them. I actually never spoke on it. It wasn’t my fault that I was too young to remember them when they died. I was barely four years old when my mom went to the hospital and never came back. I was even younger than that when we lost our dad. Bishop was seven, so he had the right to remember them.

As a matter of fact, I barely remembered my childhood at all, outside of always being at some kind of practice or on the computer learning how to build programs. The computer was my only constant. Everything around me changed, but my computer stuff was under my control. I liked dealing with things that I could control.

Bishop loved facts and figures. He always talked about the bottom line. Knowing case law down to an exact science made him one of the best lawyers I had ever seen in action, and that included Perry Mason and Matlock. Nevertheless, there were always variables that were out of our control.

Syre was one of those uncontrollable things. We had learned to accept that we couldn’t do a damn thing with our baby brother. That was much easier to wrap my head around than Bishop getting shot. It didn’t make sense.

We were at a family function. Only people we knew and vetted were supposed to be around. Yet the upcoming leader of our family business was shot at his own engagement party. I had watched the video footage a thousand times over. Still, I had yet to come up with any answers.

The only thing I knew for sure was that he saw his shooter. He had to. He was shot in the chest at close range. There was no way he couldn’t identify the person who shot him.

Since the moment Bishop was shot, I had barely left his side. I had our security team bringing me clothes and food to the hospital. I showered in his room. The only time I left that stiff ass couch in his room was to stretch my legs. They needed to consider making accommodations for people over six feet tall.

Discomfort wasn’t the only reason I wholeheartedly agreed with Syre having Bishop moved home. Seeing the peaceful expression on his face as he rested quietly in his own bed confirmed that we had made the right decision. That and no one really knew where Bishop lived. It would be a little harder to get several miles out in the woods to his ranch than it would to a hospital room.

One of the nurses from the hospital had been monitoring him closely since he’d come home. I didn’t really trust her, but at least we had someone familiar with his care by his side. If I hadn’t seen her working in the hospital with my own eyes, I would have questioned if she was actually a nurse or there to try to get me to let my guard down so she could get the drop on Bishop.

Either way, I was watching her like a hawk. Reluctantly, of course, because she didn’t have to be so damn beautiful. It was taking me off my game a little bit. Everybody knew that I had a crazy affinity for beautiful dark-skinned women. Ever since Kecia Smith broke my heart in college, I had been cool on relationships. When I fucked around, though, it was always with something fine and chocolate.

Bishop’s nurse was so fucking sexy walking around his room in those scrubs that it was unnerving. The first day she showed up looking edible in red scrubs, I was thinking, damn, that’s really her color . Now I knew that purple, pink, and blue were also her colors. The girl looked good in everything.

I had never seen a muthafucka that was fine in scrubs. Not only did her ass sit perfectly in those pants, but she was pretty as hell. I loved a pretty, dark-skinned woman down to the bone. Anya was the epitome of a beautiful dark-skinned goddess. I knew it was my best bet to stay the hell away from her.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I watched with disdain as she swept her hair over her shoulder, exposing more of her neck as she leaned into the refrigerator to grab a drink. I wanted to ask her what kinds of drinks and snacks she liked so that she had what she needed during her shifts. Syre told her to make herself at home, but I didn’t think he meant make herself at home in my damn head.

Instead of acting like a normal person and asking her what she liked, I observed and figured it out on my own. I saw her drinking a vanilla Coke one day, so I ordered some to stock the fridge with. Then a couple of days in a row, she had Smartfood popcorn. I made sure to pick up a big box of it. I wanted her time here to be as comfortable as possible, no matter how uncomfortable it made me.

“All that perfume ain’t bad for my brother since he’s on oxygen and shit?” I asked, scrunching my nose in disgust.

For days, I racked my brain trying to analyze the sweet smell that always trailed behind her when she left the room. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was some kind of melon, possibly honey dew. Whatever it was, I wanted to bathe in it just as much as I wanted to tell her to never wear it again. There had to be boundaries.

“I’m not wearing perfume,” she said, rolling her eyes at me and looking me up and down like the asshole I was.

I shook my head as she grabbed a bag of popcorn and the sandwich she brought for lunch. Anya had to be exhausted from the way she ran a marathon in my mind. I didn’t want to freak her out by constantly gawking at her, so I fought to keep my distance. Distance was an understatement. I didn’t say anything to her unless it was absolutely necessary. It was necessary for me to mention her perfume because it was driving me up the wall.

Unless I was checking in on my brother, I didn’t stay in the same room with her for more than a few minutes. I didn’t want the girl to think I was going to try anything with her. She was here to do a job, and I planned to let her do it without interference. She didn’t need me stripping her bare with my eyes every time her perfect ass switched past me.

As she lifted the can to those pretty, pink lips, I turned my attention back to the game I was tweaking. I was disgusted that I had become so engulfed in her in just a short period of time. I knew I needed to get out more, but I felt responsible for keeping an eye on Bishop.

It didn’t matter that his house was surrounded with security. I was his brother. None of them were as invested as I was in making sure no one got to him while he was so vulnerable. No one cared as much as I did about him getting better. Bishop didn’t even know Delilah was dead. I had to be here when he woke up. I couldn’t let the first person he saw be a stranger.

Syre loved our brother as much as I did, but I knew he couldn’t stand seeing him with all the tubes and not being able to wake up and argue with him. He was used to Bishop being in control at all times. Seeing him laid up in a hospital bed, not being able to do anything, nearly broke Syre. I understood why he stayed away. I didn’t fault him for it.

As hard as my brother was, he was soft when it came to our family. It was the reason we had security details following us. It was the reason he had shot one of the men on his security team for not being on post when Bishop got shot. Syre’s love for us was the reason we knew he would make the best decisions when it came to running the business.

Syre had hired the same neurologist that tried to kill Bishop to come in and check him out. That, I didn’t agree with. I made sure Joe or Tommy held him at gunpoint the whole time he worked. I didn’t care how bad his hands shook. One false move and they were going to send his ass to glory.

Anya was on duty again. Even though she said it wasn’t perfume, whatever magnetic scent lingered around her had my head in the clouds. To get some air, I sat out on the porch smoking the blunt I had left in the ashtray. I gave a single head nod as I watched one of Bishop’s security members approaching from his truck.

“Where is that fine ass nurse? I feel like I’m getting sick.” Tommy joked as he walked up on the porch to join me.

I didn’t know why his comment pissed me off, but it did. I refused to show my hand though.

“She’s in the house where she belongs.”

“I need to go in there and see if she needs something.”

“She’s good.”

“But I’m not. I need my blood pressure checked.”

“Stop eating so much pork. She’s here to focus on my brother, not your hog headed ass,” I quipped, inhaling the smoke from my blunt.

“Stop hating. I’m going in here to check on her.”

“She’s good,” I repeated. My face was on fire as I put the blunt out in the ashtray.

“All right then,” Tommy muttered, taking a seat.

I didn’t feel like entertaining him right now after what he said. The only reason I came outside was to smoke. Even though he wasn’t awake to curse me out, I still honored Bishop’s “no smoking in the house” rule. I didn’t like being places I couldn’t smoke. It was half the reason I didn’t come out here unless I wanted to ride the horses.

After securing the door behind me and double-checking the lock, I headed to Bishop’s room. Hardly anybody knew where Bishop lived, and there was security around the perimeter, but you could never be too careful. I found Anya stretched out on the couch, pecking fast on her phone like she was sending one hell of a message. It was official. This light orange shade she wore today was my favorite.

“How is he?” I asked, taking her attention away from her phone.

I almost said something about her lying on the couch, but I guess that was her idea of making herself at home. I actually didn’t have a problem with her getting comfortable. I just wanted her to know I was in charge and not here just to be around her fine ass.

“Pretty much the same. We reduced the pain medicine, and there are no signs that he’s in any distress. Everything looks good. We’re just waiting for him to wake up.”

“Um, I don’t know how far away you live. My spot is like forty-five minutes away, so I know we’re deep down in the woods. You can stay here if you don’t want to keep driving way out here to work every morning. There are a few extra bedrooms. I know Bishop wouldn’t mind,” I told her as I walked over and occupied the chair on the opposite side of the bed.

I immediately regretted making that offer. Not that I didn’t want her to stay, but I didn’t want her thinking I was trying to get her to spend the night so I could make my move. Was that what I wanted? I didn’t even know anymore. What the hell was wrong with me?

Picking up my computer, I slid on my headphones and continued my mission of watching the security footage from the party. The engagement party only lasted a couple of hours, but it was taking me forever to analyze every face and movement on the six cameras that were in the building. Plus, I had accessed the cameras outside the building from both directions. If there was something to see, I would see it.

I was waiting to hear back from the staffing company about the list of servers that were in attendance. The company that staffed the party was one that my aunt had used in the past. Checking the list was really just a formality. A close-range shooting had to be personal. Well, not exactly, but it was definitely planned. The hit had been posted on our family’s brokering website. That confirmed that Bishop being shot was premeditated.

Anya’s movement near the bed tore my attention away from my screen. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying since I had music playing. I pressed pause, in time to hear her whisper amen. She had been praying. Damn. This woman didn’t know my brother from a can of paint, yet she was praying over him.

As much as I loved my brother and wanted the best for him, it had never even occurred to me to pray. I was too busy thinking of how I could fix everything on my own. It took a stranger to open my eyes to something my aunt would have told me from the start. Yes, I needed to find out who did this, but more than anything, I needed to pray for my brother.

Anya was unlike any other woman I had ever encountered. She was kind and thoughtful. She was being paid to be here, yet she cared enough about my brother’s well-being to pray over him. Every day, I was more in awe of her. I knew I had to keep her at arm’s length.

If not because I was enthralled by her mere presence, at least because of the way my eyes and dick responded to her in those scrubs. As if she heard my thoughts, she bent over to check the water on the oxygen tank. My mind immediately went to a dark place, imagining getting behind all that ass and fucking her until she couldn’t walk straight.

“Is that how you dress for work?” I barked.

The scowl on my face hid my true feelings. I couldn’t let some pretty broad in tight pants distract me from the task at hand. Why the hell couldn’t Syre find ugly, rude nurses like I always ran into at the doctor’s office?

“What do you think? Don’t I have on scrubs?” she asked, snaking her neck as if she dared me to say another word.

Suppressing the smirk looming beneath my frown, I stood from my seat and retreated to the living room. I had to put some distance between us before I said something irrational. Even from the living room, I could feel Anya’s energy beckoning me to pick her up and fuck her out of those peach-colored scrubs. I had to tell Syre to fire her ass. I didn’t need that kind of pressure.

To keep my mind occupied, I spent hours combing through the security footage, to no avail. Syre had the very same videos, and both of us were coming up with a bunch of nothing. After a couple of hours of watching videos, I stood and stretched my arms over my head.

Since Bishop’s nurse was napping on the couch in his room, I went to the living room to work on the game I was in the developing stages for. There were a few kinks I was still working on before I wanted to send it to the final stages.

It was hard to keep my head in the game when I was at a loss as to which one of our many enemies had tried to kill my brother. To the public, it was accepted that my aunt Delilah had died from a heart attack the same night he was shot.

We let outsiders think that Delilah’s death was from natural causes, but my brother Syre and I were aware that her death had been foul play as well. Everything was crazy right now.

I was smoking like a pot of pig feet, trying to keep my mind from going into overdrive. There were a couple of testers and two teenagers who were playing a live trial of the game I was working on. It was standard that I used real gamers to test the game. So far, they seemed to love it. It was important to me to get real life gamers to assess my software and give me their feedback before I put it out into the world. As I ran through the test scenarios on the game, I damn near jumped out of my skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t fucking do that!” I warned Anya, lowering my headset to turn and look at her.

I was so caught up in the game that the sweet smell that usually caught my attention didn’t hit me until she was too close for comfort. I paused the game as I waited for an explanation. The contrast of the radiant pink against her umber skin drove me crazy.

I didn’t understand why she didn’t get the hint to stay away from me. I needed my brother to get better as soon as possible. Wanting to have her around was contradictory to everything necessary to restore order in my family. I stretched my eyes as I waited for her to give me a reason for her intrusion.

“My bad! You were in here yelling to the top of your lungs. I thought you were talking to me.”

“Why would I be talking to you with a headset on? Clearly, I’m playing a game.”

“Why would you have on a headset to play a game? Plus, that doesn’t explain talking to yourself either.”

“Did you want something?” I snapped, annoyed by the interruption.

“I wanted to ask if it were all right for me to cook while I’m here. I’ll clean up after myself and everything. I’m trying to cut back on take-out, and since we are so far out in the woods, I thought it would be best if I just cooked.”

“I don’t care. Just leave a list of what you need,” I said, putting my headphones back on.

No she did not interrupt me to ask if she could cook. I had made it clear that I wanted there to be boundaries between us. If Syre told her to make herself at home, it was understood that she could cook.

“I didn’t need you to get anything. I just wanted permission to use the kitchen.”

“Ny, just leave the list of whatever you need on the kitchen table. It’s not up for debate. Now if you don’t mind, I’m working.”

How dare she think she was about to buy anything! I might have been a jerk, but I wasn’t stingy.

“My name is Anya.”

“OK.” I shrugged as I started the game back up.

I cursed myself for calling her the nickname I had given her in my head. Although she got on my nerves just by simply existing in the same space as me, I was hopelessly smitten with Anya. Hell, the reason that she agitated me so much was because I couldn’t get her out of my head.

As irritated as I was about the interruption, I had been wanting to buy what she liked but never got up the nerve to ask. Now that she had solved that problem for me, the case was closed.

My feisty but absolutely beautiful baby stormed off as if I had just told her to starve. I told her that I was buying the food, and that was final. What did she want, a prize for trying to be independent and self-reliant? Those words didn’t exist when it came to my woman.

What the hell was I talking about? Anya wasn’t my woman. She was my brother’s nurse. The sooner he woke up, the better. I didn’t want to get used to her company. I wanted my brother to wake up.

All I needed was the grocery list so I could let her feed herself and stay the hell out of my face like she had been doing. I didn’t need the distraction that came along with her. I needed my brother better.