This Crimson Vow (Elite Security #2)

Chapter 1

SERA

I’m about thirty freaking seconds away from completely losing my shit.

My heart slams like a jackhammer against my ribs, and I grit my teeth to keep from screaming.

You’re fine. It’s just the exertion.

I know it’s not, but I don’t want Finn or Brady to notice. Because then it will become a whole thing.

I concentrate on keeping my breathing even and my eyes on my opponent instead of the group of men standing ringside watching.

“Keep your guard higher, Sera. Rotate from the hip when you throw.” Brady’s irritation cuts through the buzzing in my ears.

I bounce on my toes, counting in my head. Two bounces, one bounce, two more.

It’s not as effective as the finger tapping my therapist taught me, but it’s something. I repeat the movements as Brady squirts water into Finn’s mouth past his guard.

My brother corrects Finn’s stance, and my gaze flicks toward the group again. A tall man in a gray tank smirks at me, and I jerk my eyes away. My pulse jumps, and the urge to rip my gloves off and pull the elastic out of my ponytail is almost unbearable.

The skin on my collarbone burns from the exertion, reminding me of what I know has drawn the unwanted attention—what they are all staring at.

Why did I let Brady convince me to take off my oversized T-shirt to spar in this yoga top?

Brady leans his elbows on the ropes. “One more round and then we have to go to work.” His eyes are on me. “Focus.”

Familiar sibling annoyance breaks through my rising panic, but I don’t snap back the way I normally would.

Nodding at Finn, we circle each other again, but my attention is still split. I jab with my right, but I’m too slow, too conscious of the men watching me. Finn’s counter punch connects solidly against my ribs before I can move away, and air whooshes out of me.

“Shit—sorry,” my friend says, pulling back instantly. “You good?”

“Fine,” I wheeze. “Just thought I should throw you a bone… since I’ve been kicking your ass all morning. Didn’t want you to pout over your computer all day.”

“So generous,” he mocks.

“I thought so.”

My lungs expand, and as I try to reset, my eyes betray me, going again to the group hovering a few feet away, watching us spar. Finn’s gaze follows mine, and his expression shifts before he looks back at me with sympathetic eyes.

Which just makes me mad.

I’m so fucking sick of sympathy.

“Sera, what the hell?” Brady scowls. “You aren’t paying attention. Turn your shoulder into the—” He stops mid-sentence, the words dying off as he hears what he said, too late.

Extra heat flushes up my body into my face. “You know I can’t do that.”

He exhales hard, jaw tight. “Right, well—”

The words cut off abruptly when the group watching us erupts in laughter, and I flinch.

Logically, I know it’s not because they heard what Brady said. My brother’s boxing gym isn’t as loud as some, but between the music from the speakers and the sounds of fists hitting bags throughout the space, there’s no way they could have heard his words clearly.

Their laughter has nothing to do with me.

Probably.

As if he just realized we had an audience, Brady whirls around and jumps down from the ring, his shoulders squared. “Can I help you with something?”

The man in front who had apparently told the joke, startles. “No… I was just…”

Brady’s expression is thunderous, and for a minute I feel bad for the guy. “Just what?” He growls, taking a step closer. “Staring at my baby sister like a creep.”

For fuck’s sake.

The guy blanches, but his friend in the gray tank smirks at Brady. “It’s a boxing gym. We watch bouts all the time.”

Brady’s eyes narrow, and I’ll give it to the guy; he’s not backing down as he flashes a smile my way. “Your sister’s great… for a girl. But I mean, I guess it’s expected considering who your dad is.”

Brady stiffens further, and I interrupt before this guy wades even further into dangerous territory. Our father is not a subject I want to discuss… ever.

“I’m done. Unlike you Neanderthals, I need more than just a swipe of bar soap to get ready for work.”

Finn side-eyes me over the obvious distraction but begins pulling off his own gear as I yank the Velcro on my glove with my teeth.

“Show’s over.” Brady glares at the group as they slowly disperse, Tank-Top giving me another cheeky smile before sauntering off with his friends. “I should kick him out,” Brady grumbles.

Grabbing my T-shirt from the corner post where I’d left it, he tosses it at me. “Maybe you should leave this on next time.”

The hurt that slices through me is so unexpected, my tone is too harsh when I snap, “You’re the one who told me to take it off so you could see my form.” Shoving my head through the neck hole, I try to swallow past the tightening in my throat. “It’s not my fault if people stare.”

Brady freezes. “Sera, I didn’t—”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t your scars those guys were staring at.” Finn snorts as he climbs from the ring.

“What?” I scowl at him. It’s always easier to default to anger rather than to identify the other emotions churning in my stomach.

“You bounce on your feet. A lot.” He stares meaningfully at my chest before chuckling.

My eyes drop to my breasts. “Oh.”

Brady audibly growls at his operative, but Finn just laughs again and slaps his hand on my brother’s shoulder as he walks past.

Hands on hips, I turn on my older brother. “Cool it with the alpha, overprotective bullshit, Brady.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Is there something going on between you and Finn? I know you work together a lot, but if he makes you uncomfortable, I can put him in the field more.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, and with it, the last of the residual panic leaves my body.

Brady’s shoulders relax as he extends a hand to help me over the ropes, before begrudgingly adding. “Finn’s a nice guy. If you’re interested, I won’t—”

“Tell me I can’t date someone I work with?” I give him an arch look. “Good to know since you’re living with a former client.” Tucking my gloves under my arm, I take the water bottle he offers. “Finn is like a brother to me. All the guys are. You know that.”

He grunts and walks with me toward the locker rooms. I know he can’t help himself.

With our age difference and our father not really in our lives, Brady has always been more than just a brother to me.

He’s overprotective, and after what happened two years ago, he’s taken it to another level.

In his way, he’s trying to help, but sometimes I feel like I’m being smothered.

Brady’s face scrunches, a sure sign he’s uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “Are you still being hassled? About Ray?”

My body tenses at the mention of our absent father.

After Brady’s fiancée was kidnapped last summer, people discovered that our glorified sperm donor was Ray ‘The Hammer,’ world-famous heavyweight champion.

It had led to interest from the paparazzi.

The truth came out not only about Ray’s secret family—our situation being a loose interpretation of the word—but it also brought an increased interest in my life and Brady’s.

When one particularly motivated “journalist,” looking for a new angle, dug up the police reports from my attack, the focus had switched primarily to me.

Fortunately, since my ex-boyfriend disappeared not long after being questioned by police, and his family had no interest in talking to the press, the story had died out quickly.

Unfortunately, it had also stirred up my ex-boyfriend’s family’s interest in blaming me for their son’s absence from their life.

Last I heard, they were threatening a wrongful death lawsuit against me. Even though I’d been assured by everyone that nothing would come of it as Aaron hadn’t been declared legally dead yet, it still hung over me every day.

“Sera?” Brady’s voice rips me from my thoughts. “You promised you wouldn’t hold back again. That if you were having a problem, you’d tell—”

“I’m not.” I snap.

I don’t need a reminder that I didn’t ask for help or let anyone know when my ex-boyfriend became abusive and stalked me. I had wanted to handle it on my own—not be yet another woman who expected my brother to save them.

Look how well that turned out.

My eyes find the spot where the wall meets the ceiling and focus on it as I take a deep breath.

Brady is concerned because he loves me, I remind myself. Intellectually I know that, but I’m tired of him treating me like I’m mentally fragile.

And he doesn’t even know about…

I take another breath trying to stem my growing irritation. I need to get away before I say something I’ll regret.

“See you in a bit,” I say, before rushing away. Shutting the locker room door, I lean my head back and let out a heavy breath.

See? Progress. I didn’t take his head off.

Won’t Dr. Swan be proud.

Making a face, I push off the door. Therapy was the last thing I wanted to do, but Brady gave me an ultimatum a few months ago. Either I start therapy or find somewhere else to work. My mood was affecting the team.

Shame washes over me. I know Brady would gnaw his arm off before willingly hurting me. His saying something so drastic finally pulled the blinders from my eyes about how much I was hurting him.

It showed how much I still needed to deal with what happened with Aaron.

It's not that I love working for Elite Security. I’d fallen into the job at my brother’s company because he’d needed help early on, and later, I was part of the apparatus that morphed from Worthington Investigations into Elite Security.

I was competent at what I did. But it wasn’t the threat of losing my job that had my stomach cramping in regret.

It was knowing just how far I must have pushed my brother to bring him to that point.