Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

As his sisters arrived, Luc pulled out a toy box, dumped it on the floor and let the kids go crazy. I’d been handed a baby within minutes as his sister, Sophia, rolled her eyes and took me under her wing, explaining, “Mother will want to know only two things. One, if you love my brother, and two, if you want kids. If it’s yes to at least one, you’re fine.”

Lucky for me, it was.

I rocked the sleepy baby, her sweet smell making my ovaries weep as the older kids were sent off to watch a movie Luc’s dad had turned on. We’d made it through the predinner drinks, transitioned to the soup, and were now waiting for Luc to serve the main.

Luc’s five sisters were hilarious. Adele was the oldest and married to John; they had three girls aged between ten and four. Bridget was next oldest. She was married to Daniel; they had two girls, six and four. Dominque was the middle child and married to Steve, who’d handed me six-month-old Pepper with a yawn. Sophia and her husband Phil, and Eloise who was single, rounded out the family. And Luc, of course. Or as they called him, Lucy.

I hid a smile as Dominique broke into fluent French, agitated by something her mother, Cecile, had said. Her hands flicked about in protest as her mother retorted in French. Roger, Luc’s dad, gave me a wink across the table.

“Ignore them. They do this.”

I offered a smile, still rocking the baby gently.

“You know, you’re handling this better than me. And I only had the core family to deal with,” John said from his seat next to me. He reached across the table, snatching a water jug to top me up.

“Thanks.” I picked up the glass, careful not to jostle Pepper. I tilted my cup to encompass the table. “I like it.”

He chuckled. “They’re all as crazy as each other.” He looked over at his wife, his face a picture of contentment. “It’s why we love them.”

Cecile bounced about, a bundle of energy, running after the children, drawing plans for Luc’s remodel, pestering Sophia about grandbabies and Eloise about finding a partner. I enjoyed watching the dynamic between Luc, as the only boy and youngest, and his family.

He was obviously the apple of their collective eyes. They ruffled his hair, showered him with hugs, drew him in to every conversation. Love. So much damn love.

“All the grandkids are girls,” I said, later that night as we washed whatever hadn’t fit in the dishwasher. We’d waved off his family with hugs and promises that I would attend the next dinner.

“Yeah. We’re male-poor on Mum’s side. It’s why dad took her last name.”

I leaned my good hip against his counter, absently drying a glass. “I didn’t know that.”

“His side has thirteen boys. He felt it was his duty to carry on the Falco name. Mum is one of three girls. No males on any branch of that tree.”

“So, you’re the miracle?”

He laughed. “The averages were with me. Mum was determined to keep trying until there was at least one.”

“How did they take your service?” I asked, reaching up to put away the glass. I turned back, taking the plate he held out for me. His forearms were covered in suds.

He dropped his head, looking at the dish as he scrubbed it, taking his time to answer. “Not great. I didn’t tell them until the day before I was due for training. Mum broke things. Dad took a long walk. My sisters were in hysterics. You’d think I was dying the way they carried on.”

I put the plate to the side. “Then why did you?”

“I’m not a diplomat like dad. Or an architect like mum. And all the good jobs were taken by my sisters. I wanted to work out who I was without them hovering. It seemed like a good solution.”

“Was it?”

He finished washing the plate, handed it to me and started on the next. In silence, we tidied our way through two more plates before he answered. “You know, I think it was. All things considered.”

He pulled the plug, draining the sink. I finished drying the last of the cutlery, then handed him the towel. He dried his hands as I put away the remaining items, waiting for him to continue.

“It was shit, you know? War zones are fucked up. We lost friends, men I considered brothers. People talk about how hard it is to adjust when you get home, or when you leave the service. But it’s only when you experience it yourself that you understand. I got friends who I counted on to save my life. They came home so broken they struggle to leave the house.”

He turned, walking into the lounge, pulling me along with him. We sat, me beside him, his legs propped on the coffee table, one arm stretched across the back of the couch.

“I’m glad I did it. I served my country, I looked after my brothers, and I did a good job. I came home a different person and that’s what I wanted. I wanted to test myself, and I found I like who I am.” He shrugged, his mouth pulling up into a wry smile. “I guess we all have our reasons for doing crazy shit.”

My lips curved. “Crazy or brave?”

“They’re exclusive?” His deliciously warm body inched closer to mine.

“Bed?” I asked, my lips now inches from his.

“No.” He curled an arm around my back, pulling me into him. “I’m going to fuck you right here.”

Yes. Please.

Chapter Forty-Two

Emmie

Monday afternoon saw me struggling not to punch my computer screen. Yet again I was testing the code we’d pulled from the West Investment accounts. I should have finished my report days ago. By now, I knew the way it interacted, could predict how it would move and targeted accounts. The program wasn’t sophisticated, but that damn niggle in my gut wouldn’t budge.

“Okay, explain it to me again,” Sawyer requested. We were both huddled over