Page 39 of Fractured Fear

I think he says more, but I don’t hear him. I’m drifting off and can’t fight the pull of unconsciousness anymore.

CHAPTER 15

ASHER

Ihate planes. I hate flying. Men my size were not meant to be packed like a sardine in a metal machine that flies through the sky and occasionally shakes.

Mother Nature does not want me here and she’s making it clear.

Message received.

I’m six foot five and weigh three hundred pounds. I take up more space than the engineers planned for one passenger, but driving from Los Angeles to New York wasn’t an option.

I haven’t been back here in months. Not that I’m home much anyways. I travel a lot for work.

My job has made seeing my brothers and being there for important things—like Rio’s birthday—difficult.

When the plane lands, the wheels skip a few times on the runway.

Not cool, pilot.

Thankfully, I was able to get a seat towards the front of the plane and get off this death trap as fast as possible.

As I make my way to the exit, the flight attendant doesn’t hide her perusal of my body.

“Welcome to La Guardia Airport! Enjoy your trip. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it more enjoyable.” She bats her thick fake lashes and slides a folded up piece of paper in my pocket. She may be discreet about slipping me her number, but she’s not discreet about how she reaches for my dick.

Before she knows what’s happening, I grab her wrist and shove it away from me.

Leaning in close, I narrow my eyes and growl, “Keep your hands to yourself.” Then I turn and smile at the other flight attendant who watched the whole thing from the open door and continue off the plane.

I don’t care that handsy flight attendant is a woman or that she’s smaller than me. Women can still inflict pain, I see it every day.

Besides, she didn’t ask before trying to touch the family jewels. I’m thirty-five, not twenty-five.

My mother showed me the antithesis of how a woman should be treated. I always tell whoever I’m going home with, that it’s just for the night. I don’t give them my number, and I don’t make any promises other than a good time. So, no. The flight attendant will not be getting a call from me. All I want is to see my friends and sleep in a real bed. Not another notch in a cheap motel bed.

After grabbing my suitcase at baggage claim, I make my way to passenger pickup and spot Rio smiling proudly with a neon pink poster that reads “The Wolf.”

That motherfucker. He knows I hate that nickname. If I didn’t love my mother so much, I would blame her for naming me Asher Wolfgang Dawson.

“The Wolf is back!” he shouts across the crowds of people and proceeds to howl which turns some heads.

I scowl at him as I make my way over to where he’s standing. I know he’s just doing it to get a rise out of me. That’s Rio. Goodto know that the only thing that has changed about him is the addition of a few tattoos. I’m surprised he still has skin to cover.

“Shut the fuck up, dickhead. You’re scaring the little grandmas.”

“Nah. The cougars love me.” He winks at the white haired woman leaning on her cane standing next to us.

“You’re an idiot,” I say and punch his arm before I pull him into a hug.

“Where’s Z?”

“He’s at the hospital with Spencer.”

Ah, yes. The victim.

Zane and Rio swear it’s the same group we’ve been trying to dismantle for over a year now. If she hadn’t been scrappy, she would have been sold to some sick fuck who would have taken her against her will over and over, or she would’ve ended up in a hell hole where it would have been more than one sick fuck.

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