The thunder of gunfire woke him from his fitful sleep. Instantly, he reached under his pillow for his Smith and Wesson, rolling onto his back, aiming the weapon over his head.

It took him several second to realize that he was in his apartment in Bloomfield Hills, alone and drenched in sweat. The machine guns were only the contractors, rebuilding the condos across the road for what felt like the fourth year in a row.

Grunting, Luke cast the firearm aside and pulled his muscular chest upright, cringing at the crack of his back as he moved. Suddenly, who and where he was came flooding back to him in a torrent.

Not at war anymore, he thought grimly. Not overseas anyway.

His bare feet touched the sleek wooden floor as he padded across the huge master suite toward the hallway. The smell of fresh coffee wafted into his nostrils and for a moment, he froze.

Shit. Did I bring someone home last night after the fight?

He wracked his half-asleep mind, hoping that whomever it was would not be impossible to get rid of. It was uncharacteristic of him to let them stay the night but he’d had a lot to drink.

To his relief, it was only Soledad in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cleaned up the beer bottles on the counter, her earbuds firmly in place. She hadn’t heard him come in and he watched her for a minute with bleary, hungover eyes.

“Oh! Shit, Luke,” the maid gasped when she spun around. “You scared me!”

She yanked the headphones out of her ears and shook her head, laughing.

“Coffee?”

“God, yes,” he muttered, falling onto a stool at the island. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I learned long ago not to wake you after a night of fighting. How does the other guy look?” she teased, eyeing him warmly. He could read the concern in her eyes and for some reason it made him bristle.

“I can take care of myself, Sol,” he reminded her. “Did it in Iraq and I’m doing it here.”

She didn’t respond, knowing that no matter what she said, it would likely lead to an argument.

“Hungry?”

He snorted at the thought of food. He wasn’t sure he’d ever eat again, not after the visit he’d had from that lawyer the previous day.

“No, thanks.”

“Your sister called.” Soledad slid a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him before turning back to the sink. “She tried to call your cell but it was off. I told her you had a fight last night.”

He gritted his teeth, closing a wide palm around the too-hot surface of the cup and feeling the burn against his hand. But even as the pain started to sear through his skin, he didn’t move it.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, a voice taunted him.

Had it been someone in the army? A coach? Likely, it had been dear old Dad.

Whoever it was deserved a punch to the throat.

Whatever doesn’t kill you, gives you unhealthy coping mechanisms. That’s not strength. That’s sadism.

Finally, he pulled his hand away from the mug and stared at the red on his fingers, the throb of the burn pulsating through his arm.

But at least I can still feel, he thought. And that’s something, right?

“What did Rachel say?”

Soledad turned, her brown eyes blinking and Luke realized they had been quiet for several minutes.

“Oh…uh, nothing really. She just asked to speak with you.”

“Did she sound upset?”

Soledad turned fully, her brow furrowed slightly.

“No…I don’t think so. Why?”

He scowled and took a sip of his scalding coffee before answering.

“Our sperm donor died yesterday. I thought she might have heard.”

The maid’s mouth parted and she gaped at him, confusion coloring her face.

“Y-your sperm donor?”

“The asshole who impregnated our mother?”

“Oh! Dios! I’m so sorry, Luke! Why didn’t you say anything?”

He scoffed lightly.

“There’s nothing to say. I haven’t seen him in a decade and a half.”

“Oh…”

Soledad looked about uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to say and Luke suddenly felt pissed at himself.

Why did I tell her that? Why would I put something so heavy on her? Misery really does love fucking company.

He knew why he’d blurted it out—the fact had weighed on his mind since the uptight suit had blindsided him at the gym the previous morning. The memory of David Maddox’s too-smug face was etched in Luke’s mind like he had been branded.

That son of a bitch thought he was coming to offer me some opportunity of a lifetime. Telling him to fuck off was almost as good as telling Carter to fuck off all those years ago.

Learning that his estranged father was dead had been bittersweet. Luke wished he had been there to spit on the bastard one last time, but of course, Carter would never die with notice. That would make things too easy, closure too simple.

No, instead, Luke was filled with the deep fury which he had buried years ago, the lost words he’d wanted to throw into his father’s face forever locked in his mind.

All because the piece of shit couldn’t die a long, torturous cancer-ridden death. An aneurism. Quick and painless. He deserved so much worse than that.

For the first time in his life, Luke felt himself hoping for a Hell, one where his father would be endlessly roasted.

In some way, Luke felt like he had shat on Carter’s memory by refusing the inheritance but long after David Maddox had left the gym, Luke had to wonder exactly how he had been left as Carter’s beneficiary.

Not even Rachel. Me. There’s only one reason he would do that—he’s still trying to control me from the grave. Fuck him.

“A-are there arrangements to be made, Luke?” Soledad asked, bringing him back to the present. “Should I call anyone for you?”

Disgusted with himself for bringing it up to his housekeeper, he shook his head, averting his cobalt colored eyes from her compassionate stare. He didn’t want or deserve her pity. He was glad Carter was dead…wasn’t he?

Without saying another word, Luke rose and ambled toward the bathroom. He’d need a shower and some Aspirin before calling Rachel. Whether she knew about Carter or not, she was bound to find out sooner or later.

He wondered what Rachel’s reaction would be.

The spray of the half dozen shower heads erupted as Luke turned on the shower and he pushed the thought of his sister out of his mind for a few minutes.

His body was aching in every inch and suddenly, he was back in the octagon, administering the blows to Jerry Jarvis’ face, one after the other. In his mind, Luke wasn’t fighting an opponent, as a crowd cheered him on. Jerry became Carter and Luke was a young boy again on the floor of the study.

It wasn’t until the ref yanked him down, his trainer atop him did Luke realize he had probably gone too far.

I need to check up on him, Luke thought regretfully, stepping into the steam shower. Last he remembered, his trainer, Jonesy had told Luke that Jarvis was fine.

“Couple broken ribs and a shattered cheekbone. Nothing he hasn’t had before,” Jonesy muttered. “You, on the other hand, need to watch yourself. Men have been disqualified for less than that.”

It was an isolated incident. If anyone knows discipline, it’s me, FFS. I’m glad I didn’t kill him.

Yet as he soaped himself, the power that coursed through him at the memory of being in the octagon, in the midst of a battle to win at all costs, made his cock stir. His hand slid down to grasp his aching shaft.

In hindsight, it was shocking that he hadn’t brought home a woman. The news of Carter’s death, the fight, the anger—it was all a perfect storm of tension that needed to be released.

His fist closed around his shaft and Luke fell against the wall as his grip slid over the head. He closed his eyes and tried to conjure the picture of a fine set of cheeks in front of him, curvy, spread and ready to take his thick cock as he teased a swollen clit with his fingertips.

With a grunt, his stroked himself harder, his even white teeth clenched on his lower lip but no matter how much he tried to envision himself plunging into a screaming blonde, her hands splayed against the glass of the shower, he couldn’t bring himself near enough to a climax.

“Fuck!” he muttered, opening his eyes after a few minutes. His rod was growing raw with all the friction but his balls refused to release his pent-up frustration.

There was just too much going on in his mind to finish what he’d started.

With another groan, he whipped off the faucets and reached for a thick terry-cloth towel to wrap around his waist.

Slowly, his cock was lowering its salute but the yearning to release was still as strong as ever.

Looks like Remy and I are going out tonight, whether he wants to or not.

Dripping over the pristine floors, he moved back into his bedroom, his black hair falling over his forehead in damp tendrils while he dug through his dresser for socks and underwear.

No sooner had he slipped into a pair of boxers, running the towel through his outgrown crew cut did the landline ring.

Luke didn’t need to read the call display to know it was his sister. There were only a handful of people who knew the number and while the phone was the bane of Luke’s existence, he knew that when he withdrew from the world, Remy and Rachel both used it to ensure he was alive.

I keep this damned number for someone else’s peace of mind, he thought, snatching up the phone at the same time as Soledad.

“…in the shower,” the maid was saying.

“I got it, Sol,” Luke interrupted.

“Oh, sorry. Bye Rachel.”

“Bye, Sol.”

His sister’s voice sounded shadowed and Luke had a bad feeling that she had already heard the news.

“Hey Rach.”

“Did you hear?” she sighed.

“Yeah,” Luke replied. There was no use lying to her, even if he hadn’t sworn to always be honest with her years ago.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Rachel demanded, but there was no anger in her voice. She knew exactly why he hadn’t.

“Rach…”

“Are you going to the funeral?”

He snorted.

“No.”

There was a long silence and Luke just barely stopped himself from going off on a diatribe.

Their relationship was different. She still saw him as a father, no matter how much animosity she felt toward him. That ship sailed with me a long time ago.

The doorbell echoed through the condo and Luke glanced at the alarm clock by his bed in surprise.

He moved to dress, realizing he still stood in his underwear, pacing the floor.

“I need to go,” Rachel told him quietly. “I-I hope you understand.”

He paused, his brow furrowing.

“Rach, you do what you’ve gotta do, but if you want me to come, the answer is a hard no.”

There was a knock at his bedroom door.

“Hang on a second,” he told his sister, shimmying into a pair of worn Levi’s. Soledad stood in the hallway, her eyes raking over his naked chest quickly before she could catch herself.

“There’s a woman here for you,” the maid intoned. “Should I send her away?”

“Who is it?” Luke asked.

“She says her name is Meredith.”

Luke stared blankly at the housekeeper, but Soledad gave no indication that she recognized the woman.

“Who is she?” Luke snapped, his patience expiring.

“No idea, but she looks like someone you’d know,” Sol offered. “Blonde, big…breasts…”

Soledad held her hands out over her chest and Luke felt his face flush. On the phone, he heard his sister laugh shortly.

“I’ll call you back,” Rachel told him.

“No,” Luke said, striding into the hall, the cordless pressed to his ear. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“Still, I can—”

“Just give me a minute, Rach.”

He stalked toward the entranceway and as he rounded the corner to the foyer, he froze in place.

Her honey-blonde hair was cut stylishly with streaks of white chunked through the waves and as she stood in a tailored suit-dress of deep burgundy, the color flattering her peaches and cream complexion, Luke came to a stop.

The erection that he had lost in the shower suddenly returned with a vengeance when she pivoted, her blazing green eyes boring into him unflinchingly.

“Mr. Vaughan?” she asked. Her voice was even, measured and husky, like she had years of fine grooming on her resume.

“Rach, I have to call you back,” Luke intoned.

“Right,” Rachel sighed, the phone clicking in his ear before he could respond, but the heady feeling of awareness rising through him stomped the feeling of regret he had for cutting his sister short.

“I’m Luke Vaughan. You are?” he asked, dropping the phone onto the sofa table, which sat beneath an ornate metal mirror.

She looked behind him at Soledad who lingered conspicuously.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I told your friend. I’m Meredith Ruiz-Maddox.”

The name slapped him fully in the face and Luke scowled at her, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

“I already told your husband, Ms. Maddox, I have no interest in anything you have to say.”

He spun and glowered at Soledad.

“See her out of here,” he growled, moving out of the foyer.

“Wait! Please!” she called out, a plaintive note to her tone and the plea sent another rush of blood through his gut and into his crotch.

He couldn’t shake the idea of seeing this well-coifed woman on all fours uttering those same two words to him just before he took her.

Slowly, he turned back around and eyed her, gritting his teeth. He felt oddly exposed standing there, like she could read his desire clearly on his face. He locked down any emotion that might give him away. He would not let this woman sway him.

“Just give me five minutes of your time,” she said simply, stepping toward him, a finely-shaped calf stepping evenly across the wooden floor of the foyer. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can send me on my way and I promise that I won’t bother you again.”

“You’ll just send someone else from your firm to bother me?” Luke retorted, but his words weren’t nearly as scathing as he wanted them to be.

“No one will bother you,” she swore. “Not me, not my father or mother. I swear.”

His eyes narrowed.

“That blowhard who came to see me yesterday was your father? David Maddox?”

She laughed before nodding, flashing a dazzling row of even, white teeth.

“He is.”

Inexplicably, relief flooded through Luke as he realized that Meredith wasn’t married to the cocky SOB.

His eyes trailed toward her manicured hands and noted that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

What the hell is wrong with you? You’re not going to bang this broad.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes back toward her delicately lined face and nodded curtly.

“Five minutes,” he conceded before spinning back toward the apartment. Soledad cast him a wary look.

“See you tomorrow, Sol,” he told her and she nodded quickly.

“Okay.”

He sauntered into the living room and waited for the sound of Meredith’s clicking heels to catch up. As he sat on the couch, he dug his hands deep into his pockets to readjust his boner, wondering if the sexy attorney had seen his raging hard-on as they stood in the entranceway.

As she joined him in the room, pausing to look around impartially, Luke saw her eyes casually fall over his crotch and he realized that she had.

Maybe this will take a little longer than five minutes, he thought, licking his lips.