The Relentless Enforcer

Chapter 1

Briar

“You’re going to regret this.”

“I’m already shaking,” he sniped angrily. Noah Matthews was a big guy, and my bravado hadn’t affected him at all.

“Good,” Mason growled in response.

I hadn’t even seen my brother coming up behind them. Mason was as tall as Noah and just as intimidating to look at.

“Because you’re the first one I’m knocking out. Get your fucking hands off my sister.” Mason’s eyes flicked to mine as they all turned to look at him. I gave him a slight nod to let him know I was okay.

“You’re Mason Sterling,” Dante said brightly, and looked happy about it. “We’ve been looking for you!”

“Why?” My brother and I asked at the same time.

The dean’s daughter turned to look at me, her expression assessing. “Do they know who you are on campus?”

How did they find me?

“No more questions,” I told them. “Unless we’re asking them.” I walked around them and stood beside my brother. “Why are you here?”

For a second, I had the bizarre thought of imagining looking at this group across the field.

The glacial stare from the quarterback, the eager look of a challenge from the wide receiver, and the dark stare of menace from the imposing linebacker.

I almost stepped back. I knew which one I would avoid.

Mason shifted his arm slightly, too subtle for most to notice. His arm brushed mine, letting me know he was here, but the quarterback saw it, so did the linebacker, both too tuned in to reading their opponents to miss anything.

“Is there somewhere we can take this conversation that isn’t on the street?” Dante asked calmly.

Mason sniffed, his eyes flicking between Noah and Dante. “Nah.” He grinned, but it wasn’t friendly. “Less to break out here unless it’s bones.”

Jesus, Mase.

“Fighting? Really?” The reporter’s curious gaze swept over my brother, her hungry look making me more nervous than either of her friends. “Is that why you were kicked out of Wrighton?”

“You’re here about that?” I asked them all, inching closer to my brother. “Why?”

“I’m also here for you,” Dustin told me, his look as cold as his friends’. He had a reputation as a flirt and a playboy, but in the few interactions I’d had with him, he’d been easy to get along with and pleasant.

He was definitely not being nice now.

“Me?” Why me?

“Yeah, you. I want to talk about—”

“We definitely need to be inside for this conversation,” the dean’s daughter said firmly.

Mason looked over all of them. “I said no.”

Noah Matthews stepped forward. “We can do this out here, but if you want to talk about sexual assault — charges that were never pushed forward but could be — and how your sister likes to invade privacy, then I have absolutely no fucking problem talking about this right here, and loudly.” He folded his arms across his chest, legs slightly spread.

He looked like a bouncer. “So . . . how did you get off for sexual assault, Mason?”

His voice was loud and clear, and he was right; he had zero fucks to give.

“We’ll talk in the garage,” I mumbled, more to my brother than to them.

Mason resisted for a moment, then, with a grunt, stepped aside to let the others pass.

Noah grinned at him. “Don’t trust us behind you, Sterling?”

Mason’s brow lowered into a frown, resentment shining in his eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Noah smirked. “Same. We’ll walk together.”

They both looked like they’d be happier punching this out in a ring. I caught the expression on the reporter’s face, and I just knew she was thinking the same thing. I looked away when she caught my eye.

I’d assumed Noah was provoking Mason. Looking at his face now, I wasn’t entirely sure that was all it was.

Inside the garage, Mason had a home gym set up, and a desk in the corner with a laptop and stuff.

I watched Dante Spence, the golden-blond quarterback, look from the garage entrance to the street and saw how quickly he realized that Mason had seen them in the first place.

Mason stayed near the door, with Noah opposite him, turned more toward his friends, but still watching my brother.

Noah’s dark eyes fell on me. I remembered the only time I’d spoken to him — the easy way he’d held himself, the specific intensity of his attention when it was directed at you, like you were the only variable in the room worth calculating.

And he was hot as fuck. Not helpful. The linebacker for the Alabama Lions was not my focus.

But I couldn’t stop looking at him.

Every inch of Noah said fighter — not the flashy kind that made a show of it, but the savage, relentless kind that took hit after hit and kept getting back up.

I’d thought it before, and my opinion hadn’t changed today. This guy knew trouble, and from the way he was looking at me, he had somehow decided that I was it.

“Someone start talking,” Mason grumbled. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

“We’re actually here—”

Mason shook his head, cutting off the dean’s daughter. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care,” he told her bluntly. He jerked his head toward Spence. “You. You do the talking.”

QB10 smiled. It was as warm as an iceberg.

“No need to be disrespectful. Talk to her with more respect, or don’t talk at all.” He smiled again, even more arctic. “Are we clear?”

“Fuck you.”

My brother, the diplomat.

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere,” I said, stepping in front of Mason. “Dante Spence,” I pointed at the quarterback. “You know that, obviously. This is Dustin Slater, wide receiver, and Noah Matthews, linebacker.”

“I know the team, Briar,” he mumbled, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just trying to lower the testosterone before one of you blows a gasket. The blonde is Savannah Cole, the dean’s daughter.” I pointed at the brunette. “And this is . . . I don’t know her name, but she’s a journalism major and possibly dating the wide receiver.”

“Definitely dating the wide receiver,” Dustin corrected, looking us over.

Mason ignored him. “This isn’t telling me why they’re here.”

“I know. I was making introductions.” I glared at him over my shoulder and saw the familiar look of wariness in my brother’s eyes, the one that was too familiar since Wrighton U had fucked up his life.

“I’m Hadley Peterson.” The brunette stepped forward, her hand extended.

Neither of us took it. “I am a journalism major, and last year I uncovered a story that led me to believe the football program at Wrighton U was rotten to its core.” She looked at us both and seemed encouraged by the surprise on my face.

I had no doubt my brother would have hidden his reaction better.

“And?” Mason pushed. See? He definitely had the better poker face.

“And I almost got kicked out after I published it on my blog. Coach Sutherland threw a tantrum, the dean put me on unofficial probation, my blog was taken down, and I lay low.” Hadley didn’t give a shit that the dean’s daughter was standing right beside her.

“I was told to let it go, and I tried to let it go, and then—”

“And then I overheard something about payouts,” Dante cut in smoothly.

“Noah and I had an altercation with five fourth years. They mentioned you.” He didn’t take his eyes off my brother.

“I won’t lie. I didn’t remember your name, but they reminded me how quickly you disappeared.

As I said, Noah and I had . . . words with them.

The speed with which those five were removed from school only made it clearer there was something very fucking wrong with the program. ”

Mason grunted in agreement.

“I’m in the student liaison program,” Savannah picked up where her boyfriend left off. Had they rehearsed this? “I think I might be the only person on campus who didn’t know about the grade altering in the athletics department.” She flushed when Mason snorted.

“You expect us to believe the dean’s daughter doesn’t know that Wrighton’s bent like a corkscrew?”

Savannah licked her lips, her shoulders squared, defiance and something that looked a lot like pride in her gaze. “My father is trying to clean it up. We are trying to clean it up.”

“They went digging when they couldn’t find a trace of you anywhere,” Hadley spoke up before Mason could argue. “They found me. I found you,” she said to Mason. “And together, we found Tiffany Preacher.”

There was a moment of silence before Mason barked out a laugh. “Tiffany Preacher? Are you fucking kidding?” He looked them over, his eyes hard and his body tense. “You’re here for Tiff?”

“Tiff?” Dante questioned, his voice low but not soft. No, nothing about this was soft. “Sounds familiar for someone who accused you of sexual assault.”

“No charges were pressed,” Hadley said quickly.

“I have a . . . friend who said that Tiffany’s statement was written three times, and each version was different.

I just want to know the right story,” she said, and I could hear her earnestness.

“I came here looking for Tiffany. The guys wanted to find you—”

“Why?” Mason cut in. His gaze returned to the quarterback. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t you want to defend your case?” Dante asked smoothly.

“Nothing to defend.”

“No charges were ever brought against Mason,” I told them all. “He was never accused by anyone in a position of authority.”

“Why?” Noah asked, leaning back with his shoulder resting lightly against the garage door. “Because you knew Tiff personally, or because you didn’t do it?”

Mason turned his head slightly to look at him. “You and I are going to have a problem, aren’t we?”

Noah grinned in challenge, and I stepped between them, not even caring that I made it obvious.

“No charges were brought because Mason is innocent, and because Tiffany never accused him.”

“Then why go quietly?” Dustin asked. “When they kicked you out, why not make a fuss?”

Mason glanced at him. “Who said I didn’t?”

Hadley spoke again. “Where is she?”

I refused to look at Mason. I wasn’t giving them shit about Tiffany. I knew he’d never say a word.

“She lives on this street,” Savannah told us. “That’s where we were headed, but Noah saw you.” Her gaze settled on me. “Have you always lived here?”