Chapter Two

ELLIS

I focus on my computer, conscious of Hicks blasting his music in the background as he works on some deal on his phone. While I can sit in front of a computer for hours and lose track of time, Hicks is always in motion—a nervous tic that helps him concentrate. He's only still when he's sleeping, and that's only for a few hours before he's up and doing it all over again.

While he might bitch that he hates his parents for focusing more on money than family, he has the same Midas touch. Not content to live off his parents, he works hard to build his own fortune. Given all the stipulations his family placed on his trust fund, I can't say I blame him.

I'm currently digging into one of the businesses he's thinking about investing in, hacking their firewall to see what skeletons they might have buried in their basement. Their security is surprisingly good, which only makes me more suspicious. This company has been on the rise for the last ten years, eating up the competition.

No one is that lucky.

A piercing beep of a truck backing up shreds my concentration, and I glare out the window at the offending vehicle, pausing when it looks like a large delivery truck is backing up to the house next door.

We just returned from summering in Europe, and it's taking me an annoyingly long time to adjust to the time shift. It's only eight in the morning, but I've been up for hours.

Just as I turn away to go back to work, the neighbor's door opens, and the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen practically skips down the steps in her rush. Her hair is a dark cotton candy pink, the sides pulled back to display her stunning face. Curls bounce with every movement, and they look so alive that my fingers itch to touch the strands.

Her face is like something you only see on the front of those fancy girl magazines. Her lips are full and painted a bright red that should clash with her pink hair, but it does the opposite, drawing my attention to her luscious mouth. She has lips that beg to be kissed, and a mouth that has my cock hardening with the need to fuck.

I'm not a man whore like the others, but I do enjoy my share of attention from the opposite sex. Seeing her makes me realize I've been looking for women in all the wrong places. She's like a jewel catching the light and sparkling amongst dull stones. Although she's slim, she has curves in all the right places, and my mouth waters with the need to taste every inch of her.

I don't realize my face is pressed against the glass for a better look until Hicks stops beside me.

"What are you doing?" He elbows me aside, a scowl on his face as he peers out the window. "What did the crazy old coot do now?" His voice is full of both exasperation and affection.

I know the instant he spots the girl—he stills completely, like a predator ready to pounce. I'm not even sure he's breathing, but I can't turn away from the girl to check, enchanted by her elegant movements as she guides the truck up the driveway. "Did you get a new neighbor while we were away?"

"You have new neighbors?" Jaceson queries, sauntering in from the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his hips and another towel in his hands as he scrubs his hair. He spent the last week up in mud country. The instant he got home, he jumped in the shower, working to chisel off the two inches of dirt he accumulated on his trip.

Although we aren't brothers in blood, we're closer than any family, and we spend nearly every minute in each other's company. We've been best friends since kindergarten, when we realized we all have a crappy home life. Most of the time, we either stay at Hicks' place or the twins'. None of their parents are around much, so it works.

Hicks only grunts in response to our question, and I shake my head. "No, look, Mrs. Killaghan just walked out on the porch."

Hicks doesn't even spare the old woman a glance, too busy tracking the new girl's every move. Jaceson drops his towel and yanks on a pair of jeans before joining us at the window. Since he's taller than us, he easily looks over our heads.

"That's prime pussy. Jameson is going to be all over that if he catches a whiff of her," Jaceson mutters to himself. The hand toweling his hair stills, and I sigh when he falls under her spell as well.

Hicks scowls but doesn't turn away from the window. "Not if I get to her first and win her over. It would be convenient to have pussy next door."

"Since when?" My eyebrows shoot up at his uncharacteristic reply, but I don't bother to tear my gaze away from the girl to call him on his bullshit. "Wouldn't that mess with your fuck them and leave them motto? You hate when the girls you fuck get possessive and clingy. Fucking the girl next door is just begging to be stalked."

Instead of putting him off, he just shrugs, a look of curiosity on his face. "Being stalked by her wouldn't be so bad."

There goes any hope of my winning her affection. Between Hicks and Jameson, I'll be left in the dust. Not that I don't have my own way with women, but we each have our individual sexual preferences. While the other guys are much more aggressive in their pursuit of a woman, I like to wine and dine them and do the whole romance thing before taking them to bed.

This is the first time we've run across someone who captures all our attention.

We watch as the truck finally parks, and two older men jump out of the cab wearing overalls. Instead of going to work, they head toward the girl with jeering expressions that have the hair on the back of my neck rising, and I scowl at the fuckers.

Before I can charge downstairs, feeling oddly protective of the girl, Jameson and Gunner pull up in the driveway with a roar of an engine. Their newly acquired, renovated car almost sounds ready for the racetrack. Just a little more cosmetic work and new tires, and they'll be ready for their first race at the unsanctioned drag track near the gravel pit.

Gunner must have just gotten off work and picked up Jameson from his lady du jour .

As they step out of the car, Jameson chuckles at some joke, while Gunner just smirks. They stride toward the house, and I mentally count in my head how long it will take Jameson to notice the female. It's like he has a sixth sense about them. He's a total hound dog, unable to keep his dick out of a pussy for longer than twenty-four hours.

I swear he switches girls more than he switches his underwear at this point.

As predicted, he casually looks over at the neighbor's house, then stops dead like he slammed into a brick wall. Jameson being Jameson, his tongue practically hangs out of his mouth as he pants after the chick. Gunner only takes a few more steps before he also pauses. While Gunner is more reserved, he stares like he's just as mesmerized, and I'm instantly jealous that he has a better view.

It's only when Mrs. Killaghan waves at the boys that their paralysis fades. Jameson goes without hesitation, his love of women, no matter the age, knowing no bounds. He enjoys popping over to chat with the old woman whenever he has time. I almost expect Gunner to ignore her, but he's too respectful of his elders, especially since the kooky woman is like a nosy grandmother to all of us.

They lope toward the old woman, shooting frequent looks at the mysterious girl, no doubt hoping to draw her attention, but she's busy reading the tablet the guy from the truck thrust in her face.

Something about the way the two truck drivers are checking her out has a sick knot tightening in my stomach, and I push away from the window. "I'm heading down there."

I'll beat fucking manners into the two delivery idiots, completely ignoring the fact that the others and I were staring at her like dogs over a bloody piece of meat. Although we might go through women like tissues, we were taught to treat them with respect. The only exception is when a bitch crosses us. It's one reason most women don't get mad at us for our hound dog ways—we're too fucking charming.

"I'll join you," Hicks replies, cracking his neck, obviously noticing the same thing as me. Something about the men, who are twice as old as her, checking her out while she's not looking is creepy as fuck.

Jaceson just grunts and grabs a shirt before shoving his feet into his shoes and following. We're out the door in under a minute. By the time we're crossing the front yard, Gunner and Jameson are heading toward the trailer.

Jameson wears a scowl as he notices the two creepy fuckers have practically cornered her against the truck, and while Gunner might look unaffected, his knuckles are white.

Someone is going to bleed.

"Why don't I help you into the trailer so you can take inventory?" The one with the beer belly hanging over his gut and a good forty pounds overweight leans over her, breathing down her neck as he does his best to peer down her shirt. The slimmer one is younger but no less unsavory. His greasy hair and body odor say he's the type to pay for female attention…or take it when denied. I quicken my pace, not wanting them to even breathe in her scent.

"No need," Jameson replies smoothly, slipping between them with a toothy smile that doesn't fool anyone. "Mrs. Killaghan asked us to help. We're young and strong and can get everything moved in a fraction of the time. Why don't you wait in the cab of the truck?"

The truck driver's eyes narrow, looking ready to argue, but something about the manic gleam in Gunner's dark eyes must convince them to do as ordered.

He's one scary motherfucker.

"Sure, no problem." The man yanks the tablet away from the girl. "I don't mind you doing my work for me."

He saunters away like he won the match, his slimy partner following after him, but everyone knows he just saved himself from a major beatdown. No one moves until they disappear back into the truck.

"Ugh, it's like they tainted the air just by breathing," the girl complains, waving her hand in front of her face as if to dissipate the stench.

We all turn toward her, part of me relaxing now that the threat is gone…until I get a look at her face. "What the fuck happened to you?"

I mentally groan after I blurt out my thoughts, but I don't take it back.

Someone beat the fuck out of her.

Though the bruises around her face are healing, they are a nasty green color that indicates the fucker who beat her didn't hold back his punches. The bruises nearly cover the whole left side of her face, her split lip is only just healing. The way she stiffens at my uncouth comment, favoring her left side, tells me that there are even more injuries I can't see.

I clench my fists as I struggle to contain my barely controlled rage, wondering who the fuck would beat on such an angel, because although it shouldn't be possible, she's even more beautiful up close.

There's no way she is a mere mortal.

Her milky skin is so pale, it's like she's never seen the sun. It's so dazzling that it's hard not to reach out and touch her just to make sure she's real.

Hicks steps right up into her space, his expression dark. When he reaches for her face, she flinches but doesn't look away or back down. His hand pauses, and he waits for her to protest. When she doesn't, he gently touches her jaw with his fingertips and tilts her face to the light.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, and I know he's seconds away from losing his shit. His pet peeve is violence against women, those who can't protect themselves. His father has never laid a hand on his mother, but the domineering bastard doesn't allow anyone else to have an opinion. The suffocating atmosphere is triggering for him, one guaranteed to stir up memories better left forgotten.

"Are you safe?" Barely contained rage gives his voice a rough timbre. When she doesn't immediately answer, he slowly lifts his gaze from her injuries and stares directly into her eyes. "Are you safe?"

It's a demand and a plea. A tremble goes through his hand, and I know he's itching to retrieve his knives hidden in his weapons closet and go hunting for the bastard.

The woman shrugs, not the least bit intimidated at him being all up in her space. At six foot two, Hicks isn't a small man. He might only be eighteen, but he works his body like a professional athlete. Over the years, he's honed his abilities until he became a killing machine.

When he faces off against an opponent, he's ruthless and takes them out as efficiently as possible. It's not that he enjoys fighting, he just learned at a young age that he needs to be stronger and faster than others to protect those he claimed for his own.

Next to him, she looks delicate and very fragile.

She barely reaches his shoulders and couldn't be more than five-four or five-five.

"For now," the woman murmurs, the huskiness of her voice going right to my cock, and the damn thing practically springs to attention. The others have the same reaction, if the way Jaceson sucks in a harsh breath and the hungry gleam that enters Jameson's eyes is any indication. Even Gunner is affected, staring at the girl like she's some strange creature he's never seen before.

Gunner is an odd one. He likes women, but he doesn't actively pursue them. He's completely focused on getting his future settled. Females are just a distraction that he refuses to indulge. I suspected he might be asexual, but the way he can't look away from the girl tells its own tale.

The girl lifts her chin, pulling away from Hicks' touch. A furrow instantly appears between his eyebrows, clearly not liking the distance she placed between them. He places a hand against the truck near her head and leans forward. "I live next door. I'll send you the code to access the house. If you ever feel unsafe, you are free to come over and make yourself at home. We'll make sure no one lays a hand on you ever again."

The others grunt in agreement, and I find myself nodding as well. Though I'm not as intimidating as the rest, my slim stature is deceiving. The others have brute strength, but I'm all lethal grace. No one sees me coming. I'm quick and efficient. We all train together, each of us possessing our own special abilities.

As a group, we're a deadly combination.

She glances at the mansion behind us, and a shutter drops over her eyes. She nods, and her smile brightens. "That's amazing! Thank you."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she has no intention of stepping foot in the mansion. From the way Hicks is scowling, I know he picked up on it as well. Frustration darkens his green eyes, then he straightens and pastes on a matching fake smile. "Great. Why don't you show us what you want moved?"

Tension leaves her shoulders, something so slight that if I hadn't been looking for it, I would have missed it. Her smile turns more genuine when she nods, then she slips between us and heads toward the back of the truck.

The guys don't follow her immediately, each of us sharing a look—a promise.

Whoever touched her is dead.

Whether she knows it or not, she just gained five protectors.

She's one of us, one of the lost ones, and we take care of our own.