Page 14 of My Brother's Forbidden Friend

“CAN I PLEASE GET A SHIRT?”

Cam

That asshole is a dead man. Worthless piece of shit. What kind of man hits a woman?

I climb into my car, my foot slamming on the brake as I hit the start button and put it in drive. My tires kick up gravel as I speed out of the parking lot of the inn. The entire drive to the marina, all I envision is my fist slamming into his jaw and the satisfying crunch I'll hear. I’ll make sure he never touches her again.

I have no choice but to slow down as I roll through town, but once I’m out of the downtown area and closer to the marina, I kick it into high gear, racing into the parking lot before slamming on my brakes and stalking out of my car. I shed my suit jacket and toss it on the park bench that sits close to the marina. Porter’s just came in from gold crab season by the Aleutian Islands and said he was going to do a cod run before he goes back out for more gold crab.

The guys are stacking the equipment for cod fishing when I approach Porter’s boat. Derek’s nowhere to be seen though.

“Hey, Porter.”

The old man looks down off the deck of his boat.

“Permission to come aboard?”

He waves me up. “Little dressed up for a boat, no?”

“You have a deckhand. Derek something?”

He glances over his shoulder and blows out a breath. “What’d he do?”

I guess I’m that transparent.

The other deckhands slow their movements and look at us, eager to figure out why I’m looking for their new guy. They’re good at sensing the ones who don’t fit, so their radar is probably up on Derek anyway.

“I just need a word. He here?”

“In the barracks. Changing. This is his second time being late. One more strike and he’s gone.”

Porter has three daughters of his own. Once the news travels that Derek hit Chevelle, he’ll be lucky if he’s not chopped up and used as bait.

“You might want to call for a new deckhand then.”

Porter’s chin drops to his chest, and he shakes his head.

As luck would have it, Derek comes out of the door from the barracks and comes to an abrupt halt when he sees me. The cockiness he’s worn as a badge isn’t there anymore. He knows why I’m here.

“Listen. It was an accident. She’s clumsy.” He holds up his hands. “I don’t know what she told you.”

“Fucking hell,” Porter mumbles.

“What kind of accident?” I approach him, hands fisted at my sides, pulse thrumming in my ears.

“Who is she?” a deckhand asks.

Neither of us answers, but they know me well and know who I’d protect within an inch of my life. Not that I wouldn’t protect any woman, but I’d go above and beyond for Chevelle.

“The car door. She was saying goodbye and I was shutting the door. It was an accident.”

I stalk toward him, and he steps back again. “That’s not what she said.”

In truth, she didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. I saw the embarrassment and shame all over her face—both of which she shouldn’t be feeling. Just like at her mother’s wake, she wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. She blamed herself for her mother’s death and she probably blames herself for dating this douche.

“You know chicks like her. Always the victim even though they dress like that.”

Adrenaline surges through my veins and it’s all I can do to keep my voice even. “Dress like what?” I continue my approach.

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