Protecting His Best Friend's Sister (The Protectors Book 1)

  Protecting his Best Friend’s Sister

  The Protectors: Book One

  Samantha Chase

  Noelle Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Samantha Chase and Noelle Adams. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Protecting the Enemy

  About Samantha Chase

  About Noelle Adams

  Prologue

  Levi

  The first time Harper Murphy turned me on, she was sixteen and crouching down beside a flat tire on the side of the road.

  I was only eighteen. She was my best friend’s sister and totally off-limits, but I wasn’t some creepy thirty-year-old leching on a kid.

  Still. She was forbidden. I definitely didn’t want to get hard at the sight of her.

  Her brother, Gavin, and I were both seniors in high school that year, and we’d been best friends all our lives. He was getting ready for soccer practice when he got a call from his little sister. She was on a winding country road outside of town, and her tire had blown out. She had a spare in her trunk, and she was trying to put it on herself, but if he happened to be in the area, she’d be happy to see him.

  That was actually what she said. If he happened to be in the area. Not that she needed his help. She’d always been little and blond and pretty, and it was hard not to look at her and see delicacy, helplessness. She hated that.

  When I was eight and she was six, she chewed me out for helping her move a heavy rock across her backyard so she could set up tea party for her stuffed animals. There she was in her Cinderella dress and a tiara on her head, dragging a rock almost as big as she was, and she yelled at me for trying to give her a hand.

  Some things never changed.

  So when Gavin got the call five minutes before practice started and asked me to drive out to make sure Harper was okay, I knew what to expect.

  Or I thought I did.

  She was Gavin’s little sister. Tiny. Loud-mouthed. Braver than anyone I’d ever known—not that I’d ever tell her that. She’d always been on the periphery of my life but never very important.

  Then I drove outside of town, saw her little blue car on the side of the road, and pulled my old truck onto the shoulder behind it. I got out and walked over to the blown tire on the passenger side.

  And there she was.

  Little Harper.

  Wearing a white tank-top and very short cut-offs, crouching down on the gravel shoulder. She was small but curvy, and for the first time I took note of those curves. The way her little round ass was hugged by the worn denim, the way the cotton of her top clung to her breasts, the way the soft, smooth skin of her thighs was exposed nearly up to her hips because of her position. Her blond hair was in a loose ponytail, but a lot of it had slipped out and was sticking to her damp neck and shoulders. And her shirt was riding up as she leaned forward, exposing a large expanse of bare skin and the top of her pink panties.

  I stood like an idiot on the side of that road, dumb-struck as a wave of heat and arousal slammed into me without warning.

  Sure, I was eighteen, and I was so flooded by hormones that I could get turned on by shopping cart back then. But this was different.

  This was earth-shattering. Like every breath in my body and every pulse of my blood was all centered only on her.

  Harper.

  My best friend’s little sister.

  Gavin would kill me if he knew what I was thinking at that moment, and I would deserve it. I didn’t have a sister myself, but if I had, Gavin had sure as hell better keep his hands off her.

  I couldn’t control the bone-deep desire coursing through me as I stared at her, though. I was rock hard and afraid she’d be able to tell if she looked down at my jeans.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded, looking hot, tired, and frustrated. She’d managed to get the flat tire off and was trying to roll the spare closer to the car.

  Had I been in a more reasonable condition, I would have been impressed by the fact that she’d been able to jack up the car and loosen the lug nuts on her own. I had far more pressing things to think about, though—like not striding over to her, hauling her up into my arms, and taking her hard and fast on the hood of her car.

  “Since you’re here,” Harper continued, looking up at me over her shoulder, “you could try to make yourself useful.”

  That was as close to a request for help as I’d ever heard from her.

  It took a minute, but I finally managed to make myself move. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, since I was embarrassingly aroused the whole time, but I lifted the spare tire for her and then tightened the lug nuts with a wrench.

  I didn’t say anything. I was afraid she’d be able to hear what I was feeling in my voice.

  When the spare was on and I’d lowered the jack, she stood in front of me, wiping some of the sweat from her face with her hands.

  I’d never seen anything hotter, anything I wanted more than I wanted Harper at that moment.

  She dropped her eyes briefly and then slanted a look up at me. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  Now my head and my heart were pounding as fiercely as my groin. “You’re welcome.” The words came out as almost a growl.

  “I could have done it myself, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “But it was nice of you to drive out.” She’d been looking at the ground again, but her eyes darted up so unexpectedly that I was afraid she’d caught a hungry look on my face.

  She’d evidently seen something but didn’t know how to interpret it. “Why are you acting weird?” she asked.

  She’d always said exactly what she thought.

  “I’m not.” What could I do but deny it?

  “Yes, you are.” She was scowling now, and she pulled her tank-top out away from her chest and turned it into a kind of fan, evidently trying to cool herself down. “Of course I’d get a flat on the hottest day of the year. Story of my life.”

  The fanning of her top gave me a clear sight of what was beneath it. Lacy white bra barely hiding perfect breasts.

  I gulped and turned away in an awkward move. There was no way I could keep looking at her and hold myself back.

  “Well, it would be nice if you were in a better mood about it,” she said, again misreading my expression. “But thanks anyway.”

  With that, she took her hot, little self back to the driver’s side of her car and gave me a wave before she drove away.

  She left me standing there, still so turned on I could barely move.

  I had wet dreams of Harper for weeks afterwards, and even years later, they would still occasionally hit me unexpectedly.

  After everything that happened, after Gavin died, you would have thought the attraction would fade into a fuzzy memory, but it never did.

  ***

  Twelve years after that day on the side of the road, I was standing across from Harper again.

  There was a grave
between us now.

  Gavin’s grave.

  His body was being buried today.

  The sun shone down on the cemetery, and a cool breeze blew across my face, but all I saw was blackness. Having been in the military in a time of war, you’d think I’d be used to this scene by now. But I wasn’t. I hadn’t just lost a brother-in-arms. I’d lost one of my closest friends.

  I’d met Gavin in kindergarten. We’d walked through life together.

  Only his life ended way too soon.

  I could feel the tension radiating off Declan on my right, just as I felt it off Cole to my left. No doubt Sebastian was feeling the same way. I glanced down the line at him and could see the expression we’d been schooled in—emotionless.

  We were Marines, damn it. Only now we were home—and not by our own choosing. We’d served. We’d fought on the front lines and now had returned. Injured. Broken. Defeated.

  Not all wounds are physical.

  We’d been friends for a long time, the five of us. Gavin and I had met Sebastian, Declan, and Cole in boot camp. We’d always been a good team. Despite all the differences between us, we shared a bond that most wouldn’t understand.

  Sebastian’s family was old money. No one had expected him to enlist and become a Marine. They’d expected him to live in the lap of luxury. Looking over at his stoic face, I had to wonder if he might have been better off remaining in the silver-spoon life that was now awaiting his return.

  Declan was staring down at his hands. His silence was the most unnerving to me. Although I knew it wasn’t appropriate for a graveside, I still needed him to make a joke. To talk about how he’d hooked up with triplets in a bar in Maui.

  I needed something—anything—to take the edge off this nightmare hour.

  Beside me, Cole shifted in his seat. His scars were the most obvious—as they’d always been. He had never had an easy life, and being a Marine was more like a reprieve to him than a challenge like it was for the rest of us. He was home, but I knew that he’d rather be waiting for word on where he would be stationed next. I thought he’d rather be anywhere than standing here.

  Even in the ground.

  The pastor recited all Gavin’s outstanding qualities. Good son. Good brother. Good friend. Good Marine. I wanted to shake the man because good didn’t even begin to cover it. Gavin was the kind of guy who always had your back and made serving in such hellish conditions a little more tolerable. He could make you laugh when the world was crumbling around you and tell a story that transported you to a different place and time.

  I told myself not to go there. Not now. In a perfect world, there’d be far fewer military conflicts and a lot less need for military funerals. But it wasn’t a perfect world. Everyone knew that.

  I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want Gavin to be there. In a box, lowered into the ground. I would have given everything that was, all that I had, to change it—to go back in time and make it right. To make Gavin not be in that casket.

  The five of us were supposed to be friends forever. A couple more years in the service and we were going to get out and do something different. Something just for us. Now there wasn’t going to be any of that. Sure, the four of us left could still move forward, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

  I could only beat my head against the wall so many times. It didn’t bring me any closer to having peace, and it certainly didn’t make it any easier to get up every morning and be hit with the brutal reality that I was alive and Gavin was dead. How the hell was I supposed to live with that burden?

  The Lord’s Prayer was being said now. My jaw hurt from clenching throughout the service. I knew I was supposed to say the words, but I wasn’t feeling overly spiritual. I’d called out a prayer when the world exploded around me. Maybe I should have been thankful that I was still alive, that the four of us were still alive when so many weren’t.

  It didn’t make me feel any better though, and I doubted I’d ever feel like me again.

  Everyone was standing. Looking around, I noticed that people were making their way over to Gavin’s family. I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with them since getting back. Maybe I’d been avoiding them because I was ashamed to face them.

  I’d let them down. I hadn’t protected Gavin, despite the years of friendship between us. And here I was, still standing, while Gavin’s body was being lowered into the cold ground.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, watching the whole scene unfold before me. Cole nudged me and nodded in the direction of the receiving line. The crowd had thinned out some, and I had a clear line to the family.

  Holy shit, how was I supposed to do this? What was I even supposed to say?

  Next to Gavin’s parents, I saw Harper again.

  It had been years since I’d seen her, although I still thought about her a lot more than I should. She hadn’t talked to me since I’d stood her up for her senior prom. There was a whole story there, and one I’d thought she might understand, but she’d been mad about it. I guess I couldn’t blame her. I’d left town shortly after that, so I hadn’t said a word to her since.

  Stepping closer, I could see that it wasn’t a girl standing there—or even the hot teenager I’d lusted after so long ago—but a grown woman.

  She’d always been a handful and hadn’t taken crap from anyone. From the look of things, that was still the case. The back-off vibe was coming off loud and clear, even as her face was politely smiling as she thanked people for coming.

  For a moment I forgot where we were as my eyes lingered on the beauty of her face, the lush curves of her small body. This so wasn’t the time to notice how gorgeous she was, but there it was, appropriate timing or not. I felt a stir of desire I hadn’t felt in a long time. Too long.

  Of all the moments for that to kick back in.

  If it were another time—and another woman—I might have acted on it. But she was still Gavin’s little sister.

  She’d always been off-limits. His death didn’t change that fact.

  Her eyes connected with mine over the crowd, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. A dozen emotions crossed her face, even though her expression never visibly changed. Had anyone else seen that?

  It was my turn. Shit. I mumbled something. I think it was my condolences. I shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, Gavin’s parents. Now that I was standing in front of Harper, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Hug her? Shake her hand? Kiss her?

  When she was in elementary school, one of the boys in her class had tried to kiss her as we were all walking home from school. She’d slugged that kid, even before Gavin or I could step up to help.

  The memory of her walloping that boy made my lips twitch up in a smile, although the slight amusement was incredibly inappropriate.

  Nothing seemed appropriate, after everything between us.

  Those years as kids together. That afternoon on the roadside. Gavin’s body, in a casket now.

  I managed to form a few words, “Hey, Harper. I’m so sorry for your loss. Gavin was a great guy.”

  That polite smile she’d been giving everyone else disappeared as her eyes homed in on me and sharpened to a hostile glare. I almost tripped over my own feet as she stepped toward me and whispered so that only I could hear. “Why couldn’t it have been you?”

  Welcome home, Levi.

  One

  Harper

  I was getting really tired of people patting me on the head.

  Metaphorical pats on the head, of course. I did have an ex-boyfriend in college who gave me a little pat on the head once as he laughed at how much time I was spending in organizing a rally on campus. He acted like the head pat was a joke, but it was all I could do not to slug the condescending bastard. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last beyond that night.

  I’m really short and really blond, and there’s nothing I can do about either of those things. But because I bear an unfortunate resemblance to Tinker Bell, I’ve always had
to put up with being patronized, underestimated, or not taken seriously.

  Jack, my editor, usually wasn’t guilty of acting that way. I’d worked with him for four years, and I always thought we respected each other. But he was talking over me now, interrupting every time I tried to explain myself, and I hated when people did that.

  “I really think there’s more of a story here,” I said, keeping my voice as low and patient as I could. Jack was standing right next to my chair, but the desk beside mine was just a few feet away, so it wasn’t like the conversation could be private. “If you’ll just let me—”

  “I’ve given you as much leeway as I can.” Jack interrupted. He was middle-aged, balding, and always looked tired. The staff could always tell his stress level by how high his sleeves were rolled up on his arm. This afternoon they were already up past his elbows. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Harper. All of us are really sorry. I offered to give you personal days last month if you needed—”

  “I don’t need personal days. I just need to be able to do my job. And I’m telling you that I can find out more about that accident. There’s more going on—”

  “This is a local paper, and I’ve already given you more inches than we can spare on military issues. I’m really sorry about your brother’s accident, but you can’t devote all your time to whatever conspiracy you’re trying to dig up about it.”

  His tone at the end definitely sounded patronizing. Like he thought I was deranged with grief or something. I straightened my shoulders since I’d learned that gave me a little more height. So did the very high heels I always wore. I still had to look up at Jack though. I had to look up at everyone.

  “It’s not about Gavin’s death. Something strange is going on here, and no one is talking about it. I’ve already brought the paper national exposure with my column last month, so I’d think you’d want me to—”

  “Harper, this isn’t a debate. I’m telling you this flat out. Take days if you need them, but otherwise you need to stop obsessing and do your job.”