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If the military would take me back, I’d be there in a heartbeat. They knew how to work men until their brains were too tired to dream. If I was lucky, I’d end up like my dead soldier brothers, because living was getting to be too hard.
Sara and her baby weren’t my only failures of late as the head of all Raven security. That creep of a professor of Sara’s gained entry into a private family party at my brother Kade’s restaurant. How the fuck did that happened? Then there was a break-in at one of Ash’s clubs in which the thief walked off with thousands of dollars and several cases of expensive vodka. It had to be an inside job, but even so, it was my responsibility.
I felt like my life was unraveling and the harder I tried to keep it together, the faster it all came apart. It had been hard enough to adjust back to civilian life after my discharge. Before I began my professional decline, I lived my life always looking over my shoulder, certain danger was lurking. Even in my sleep, I didn’t find peace no matter how many hookups I brought to my bed to distract me. I knew it was called PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. I called it fucking frustrating that a brain rewired for war couldn’t unwire itself when we came home.
The door of the gym in the lower level of the Rookery, the building my family owned and that housed the home-base of the Raven Industries empire, opened and my brother Ash walked in.
“Hey Hunter,” he said more out of politeness than genuine feeling.
“Ash.” I turned my attention back to the bag as he climbed on a treadmill. I tried to ignore him as I heard the whir of the treadmill speed up.
“Anything on the asshole that stole my vodka?”
“Still working on it,” I bit out, focusing on killing the punching bag.
“Kade thinks there was an attempt on his place, and some materials were taken down at the new site.”
I reminded myself that it was my job even though he was busting my balls. I worked the gym bag harder imagining killing Sara’s kidnapper, the man that killed her baby. Next up was wiping the smarmy smile of her professor’s face. Then I was kicking the ass of whoever was breaking into Raven properties. Ultimately, the bag was me. I was beating the shit out of myself. Boy, a shrink would have a field day with that. I let out all my aggression, pounding and punching until I was lost in a haze of anger and murderous rage. A loud snap cracked and the bag dropped to the floor.
“Jesus,” I heard Ash say.
I glanced at him. He was working to keep his balance on the treadmill as he eyed the broken bag on the floor. Not wanting to talk or hear whatever quip he might have, I headed to the shower.
I turned the water on cold and stepped in dousing my head. Cold showers weren’t just for quashing a hardon. They could also help tamp down on anger. At least that’s what I told myself as I let the cold spray sluice over my body.
How had my life turned to such shit? I’d been raised by a mostly absent father until I was old enough to understand business. It was the same for all four of us Raven boys. When we entered high school, we were indoctrinated into the Raven business. According to my father, the business was the center of the Raven world. Nothing was more important. Not our grades. Not our athletic achievements. Not any interests we might have had elsewhere.
Well fuck that, I’d thought and the day after graduation, I’d joined the military. I’d still be there too if I hadn’t been forced to leave after being one of a few to survive a surprise attack in Iraq. I’d suffered injuries that the military thought made me unworthy to protect my country. These injuries weren’t visible, although I did have a few scars from battle. No, these injuries were in my head, rattling around in my brain.
I didn’t have a college education, and no useful skill beyond killing assholes in another country, so I was forced to take work from my father. He made me the head of security, which, as it turned out, wasn’t too bad. I worked with a lot of former military and a few former intelligence agents. But protecting Raven owned hotels, resorts, clubs, and restaurants around the world was a challenge. Still, I’d have thought I could protect the ones in my own fucking city.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when six months ago, my father declared that he’d been wrong about his business-first attitude. My entire life was a clusterfuck, so what was one more thing to ruin my life? He’d decided that he’d done my mother wrong in not spending more time with her while she was alive and that there was more to life than business. Then, he told me and my brothers that we needed to learn that lesson by getting married and popping out babies.
