Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (2 page)

“No, I fucking hate this, Aly. You got out so we didn’t have to do this anymore. Visit you in the hospital that is. You were…”

Now I stand abruptly too. She is not going to do this now, not considering the audience we have.

“Don’t!” I say just as sharply. “Don’t say another word.”

The tone of my voice has her snapping her mouth shut with an audible clack. Her eyes widen and her gaze turns to surveil the room. Eyes co
1
ming to rest on the other party not usually privy to our in-house or inter-family discussions, Harper’s eyes bug out, Hollywood cartoon style.

“Sorry,” she adds quietly when she picks up on the reason for my outburst.

Both of us settle back into our respective chairs, and Brookes putting a comforting hand on Harper’s forearm. A hand which I’ll have you know; she shakes off like it’s electrocuted her. Hmm, I take it something went on while I was gone because Harper sure as hell hasn’t reacted like that to him before. And when I say something went on, I mean it must have been huge. It’s the only thing that would explain the current look of revulsion on her face when he touched her.

Which is just another thing to add to the list of questions I have for her when I get her alone later. Why do I know this? Because simply put; Harper has been in love with Brookes since the time she could spell the word. That being from the day she turned three.

Harper was a gifted child. She did everything faster than anyone else her age. That’s something that’s never changed, because if you can believe it, she’s even more brilliant now.

The problem between them is that Brookes has never seen Harper as anything other than another annoying little sister since the time she came into our lives. Her devotion to him was evident even as a young girl, and his constant dismissal of her lead Harper to have more than a few hangs ups about herself when it came to him.

For years, Harper and I schemed and conspired ways to catapult her into his orbit, and for years, Brookes turned his blinders on at any and all attempts at garnering his attention.

Initially, we thought if we only tried harder it would make some dent in the armor Brookes seemed to erect when it came to getting close to anyone. However, not one thing, and when I say one I mean one of the eight thousand seven hundred and sixty-three things we tried worked. To most people, this would have been a sign to back off and let it go but we weren’t quitters, and his non-interest only made us more determined.

From the time we were eight when we stuck needles in our thumbs, smooshed them together, and pledged allegiance to each other as sisters from other mothers until a few months ago, Harper and I were relentless at finding an in for her with my oldest brother. But by the looks of it, something significant happened while I was recuperating that has changed her mind about pursuing him, and I’ll be damned if I don’t find out what that is. I didn’t waste more than twenty years trying to make her my actual sister to let her give up now dammit.

Until today, there hasn’t been one time, not once, that Harper has or would shy away from physical contact with Brookes. Even though she’s had plenty of reasons to avoid him in the past, Harper still secretly craves what little attention, Brookes gives her.

While Brookes might be completely blind to all Harper is as a woman, and let me tell you Harper is all woman, he is demonstrative with his affection. He hugs my mom and me often; kisses our foreheads, stands with his arm around our shoulders, stuff like that, and that kind of affection isn’t only reserved for his female family members, of which there are only two. It’s also given freely and regularly to the girl he views as merely a sister.

Shaking myself from those depressing thoughts that require way too much brain power at this time in the morning without the sufficient amount of caffeine, I look briefly at the angry set of faces glaring at me across the table.

Now, I’m not usually one to be dramatic but I’m feeling a girly temper tantrum coming on because they are starting to piss me off. I know why we’re here and I know what they are going to say, and quite frankly I don’t want to hear it. If any of my brothers
1
; Brookes, Brandt, Finn, Landen, Jett, or Adrian, were to have been shot in the line of duty this wouldn’t be the scene they would meet when they returned to work. Nope, not even close.

Any of those assholes would be back at the office within days of it happening, not on brother imposed house arrest for two weeks, they would be back in the field within a week if not less, and they wouldn’t be looking down the barrel of a Jerry Springer style intervention.

But no, not me. I don’t get the same considerations as they would. I was quarantined to my house for two weeks, four days, and fifteen hours after being released from the hospital,
and
they called our Mom. Mom for God’s sake.

I mean, I love my Mom, I really do, and that’s not sarcasm you’re sensing there either. I admire and respect the hell out of any woman who can single-handedly raise seven boys and one little hellion of a daughter that acts more like a tomboy than any girl ever born. But my respect is doubled when I take into account the calm and gentle way she raised us.

In my book, my Mom is my hero. But, seriously? My brothers calling Mom when I’m hurt and have no way to escape her is just so uncool. What are they, five? Because if there’s one person that can inject the fear of God into me, it’s her and they know it. Bastards.

As I said, I love my mom but she is far worse than the drill sergeant nurse I had in the hospital. Not to mention, Mom comes wielding a bottle of disinfectant and cloth, which she’s not afraid to use in excessive quantities.

On top of that, Mom practically forced food I didn’t want down my throat
1
between sponge baths, something I’ve vowed to make every last one of my brother’s pay for. How I do that is yet to be determined, but mark my words it’s going to happen.

Being a single Mom was not easy even though she made it look that way. Our dad died when I was ten, which made my youngest brother, Liam, only barely a year old. Mom was left alone and devastated with eight children thirteen and under to raise, but she did it with an innate grace that I’ve only ever been able to attribute to her. She pulled herself together for the sake of her children and kept moving forward, but that’s not to say she forgot our Dad because she didn’t, and she didn’t let us forget him either.

Our house wasn’t a shrine to Dad. It wasn’t filled with things that would do nothing if not remind us of his lack of presence in our lives or anything like that. Our childhood home, the same one Mom still lives in today, is filled with family photos that have never been, and never will be removed from their place on the walls.

Dad’s badge and uniform shirt is framed and hanging on the wall above the mantelpiece, and his pride and joy, his signed Terrell Davis, Denver Broncos football is still sitting where it has since the day we bought it for him for Christmas more than twenty years ago.

And yes, I know we’re supposed to root for our home team the Dallas Cowboys, but Dad was a native Denverite, and old habits die hard. Hence, all of us have always been hardcore Broncos fans. It doesn’t hurt the current season's team is made up of some seriously sexy man meat either. Just saying.

Dad was a Detective with the Dallas PD until the day he died in the line of duty where he was shot and killed instantly in a routine callout to a convenience store robbery. His partner, Lucas Cox, Harper’s dad, was as rocked by his loss as we were, if not more so.

They were best friends and had been since they were in diapers. Lucas wasn’t merely Dad’s partner he was his brother in more ways than one. They did everything together, along with getting married in a joint ceremony. Lucas’ marriage to Harper’s Mom didn’t last, but that’s a whole other story.

Lucas did his best to help Mom every step of the way through her grief, mourning and subsequently helping to raise us when Mom considered throwing in the towel, which didn’t happen often but it was regularly. The way Lucas supported, Mom was respectful and fair. He behaved the way a surrogate father figure should; with stoicism and solidarity.

Harper’s Mom took off to parts unknown when she was six months old leaving her with no one but her dad. Seeing as her grandparents on both sides had passed away years earlier, Harper didn’t have a family to call her own, but that was rectified quickly when my Mom brought her into our fold.

My brothers and I were more than happy to share our Mom with her, and for a while I thought something would happen between our Mom and her Dad, but as the years went on nothing came of it and he just remained Uncle Luke to us.

But enough about that and back to what I was saying about not being overly dramatic. I’m not generally one to show my hormonal feminine side, but this is one of those rare times that calls for, what do you call it? Oh, that’s right, theatrical melodrama. Throwing my arms up in the air, not as a sign of defeat but frustration, I hiss,

“I get it, okay. I get you were all scared when you got the call, but I think the punishment has already been handed down and it more than fit the crime, don’t you think?” I snap at the same time as I direct my glare at, Finn, the betraying bastard he is. “You called Mom you asshole. And just like you knew she would, she did her thing most assuredly scarred me for life with her sponge baths, crappy cooking, and burned my nostrils with her copious overuse of disinfectant, but it’s enough now.”

“Not even fucking close,” Brandt, my closest brother in age aside from Brookes, and self-appointed 2IC barks. Slumping back into my seat, pouting like a five-year-old I might add, Brandt goes miraculously quiet when Giselle, our receptionist and the object of his unrequited desire walks into the room. If there’s anyone who has the ability to tongue tie the big man, it’s Giselle.

It takes everything in me not to do the nanny-nanny-foo-foo dance at his sudden silence. The only thing holding me back from breaking into my childish happy dance is Giselle’s timely arrival. Because if she hadn’t shown up when she did, I’d have no chance of making it out of here unscathed. Not to mention, she comes bearing heated caffeinated beverages, thank the dear lord, baby Jesus for that.

Turning to her, I breathe,

“I think I love you. No, I know I love you right now.”

Placing my thermal mug in front of me, a mug which is so unlike me and one of the only girly indulgences I have since it’s hot pink with black filigree around the upper and lower rim, Giselle pats my shoulder gently,

“Glad you’re back in one piece, Aly.” Facing Brookes, doing her best to ignore Brandt altogether she tilts her head, “Your eight o’clock is early, Brookes. I’ve put him in your outer office and made sure he’s comfortable while you finish up here. Is there anything else you guys need?”

Like I said, I think I love Giselle. Mostly because she lovable and is one of the few people I consider part of my inner circle. That inner circle being our posse of four that make up the Badass Babe Brigade. Self-titled of course.

My undying adoration could also be partly because she’s the only other person I know who has some semblance of control
when it comes to
these moody assholes. Myself and Harper not included. Giselle manages to make it look effortlessly too. Yep, total Badass Babe.

“That’ll be all for now. Thanks, G,” Brookes replies, winking at her. He’s not interested in her that way, but he does get a kick out of pissing Brandt off. Something he’s perfected and, this time, is no different. Brandt’s growl is audible and has Giselle narrowing her eyes at him before she flips her long golden hair over her shoulder, turns on her pencil thin stiletto heel, and stalks out of the room.

Landen’s eyes light with mischief and his grin is broad when he points out,

“You know you should just give up right big bro? I mean, it’s been what? Nine months since all that goodness started working here, and she still won’t give you the time of day. I think it’s time to move on to greener pastures if you get my drift.”

I fight my giggle as does Harper, and Finn the betraying bastard is shaking his head in humor with a grin on his face that matches Landen’s. Jett, Adrian, and Brookes are all smirking at him, and the other man sitting to Brookes’ left, the one I’m currently zoning out by choice is smiling to himself like he has a secret he doesn’t want anyone to know.

I know that look all too well and I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that seeing him smile like that makes my heart clutch a little. It’s a reminder of brighter, happier times. Times I can remember as vividly as if they had been just yesterday. It’s also a reminder that those times and that boy are long gone.