Anything For Family Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Lola StVil

  All rights reserved.

  Formatting by Dallas Hodge, Everything But The Book

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Find out how Gage and Shelby fell in love. And how much that love cost them…

  Gage Hunter does not date and he certainly doesn't fall in love. But that was before he crashed into the most beautiful woman he ever met; Shelby Rush. He tries to fight it. He's a CIA agent and he's all about discipline. However the more he gets to know her, the less control he has over his heart. And when he learns that she's just as beautiful on the inside, sparks fly. However Shelby is on the run from a dark past and she scared to death. Thankfully, she's in good hands with agent Hunter…

  This steamy romance is a roller coaster ride that will make you laugh, make you hot, and even make you shed a few tears. It's a full-length standalone novel. You do not have to read the book that came before this one. NO cheating, NO cliffhangers, and a guaranteed Happily-ever-after! This book has adult content for ages 18 and over.

  Books in the "Hunter Brothers" series (All stand alone novels and can be read in any order)

  Anything For Love (The Hunter Brothers, book 1)

  Anything For Her (The Hunter Brothers, book 2)

  Anything For Us (The Hunter Brothers, book 3)

  Anything For Them (Hunter Brothers, book 4)

  This book is dedicated to:

  You.

  Thank you for staying with us on this ride.

  Best,

  Lola

  Shelby, you got this. You are a strong woman, and you can do this.

  The pep talk I give myself doesn’t stop my heart from pounding or my mouth from going dry. Everything in me wants to run from what I’m about to do, but at the same time, I’m excited. I feel alive with anticipation. I am about to do something I have never done before, something no one in my circle would be caught dead doing—I’m going into a dive bar!

  Holy shit! This is going to be wild!

  I’m going to walk through the door of a place that doesn’t require a reservation. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a total badass!

  I look myself over one more time. I think I made the right decision in clothing attire. I wanted to keep it simple and unassuming. I didn’t want to be flashy or stand out in any way. So, I’m wearing fitted jeans—Roberto Cavalli, but still, blue jeans.

  I have on an azure colored, off the shoulder, long sleeve Armani top—off the rack, thank you very much. And I paired this simple look with strappy heels—last year’s Christian Louboutin. Finally, New York City’s fall requires me to put something warm over my outfit, so I decided on a mid-length cashmere trench from Burberry.

  I look at my reflection in the glass door of the bar, and I smile. This may seem like a small step for someone else, but walking in here is a big step for me. I’m venturing out of my circle and who knows where that could lead? I inhale deeply, place my hand on the glass door, and enter.

  The music is loud, and the crowd is rowdy. The place has the scent of hard work and cheap beer. I love it already. It’s true that I enjoy expensive wine and elegant décor in my day-to-day life, but as far as company goes, I’ll take regular people over rich assholes any day.

  Okay, I walked into a dive bar. Now what?

  Be cool, Shelby. Go up to the bar and order a drink.

  I try to get the bartender’s attention, but there are way too many people shouting and calling out their orders. The crowd drowns my voice out. My heart sinks. I know it’s stupid to make a big deal out of getting a drink at the bar, but if I can’t even do that, how can I do the big thing I really need to do?

  Maybe I’m not as strong as I would like to think I am. Maybe tonight won’t be the epic start to a brand-new Shelby that I hoped it would be.

  No! Shelby, you can’t think like that. You can do this. You got this. You’re going to order a drink because it’s the boost you need to start a new life. Let your voice be heard: order the damn drink.

  I try to order—three times and nothing.

  Screw this.

  “I’M HAVING AN ORGASM, RIGHT NOW!” I bark. Everyone stops and looks over at me, including the bartender. I smile warmly. “Good, now that I have your attention, Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”

  The bartender smirks as he pours my drink. People are still looking at me, but slowly they go back to their conversations. I can’t believe I just did that, but okay. It’s done. And who got herself a drink?

  Me!

  I find a small empty table and make my way over. I place my drink down and smile to myself.

  I’m here, alone, doing my own thing.

  I’m halfway through my first sip of wine when a husky man with a beard walks over to my table and licks his lips as he scans me. And right away I feel the need to take a shower. But then I remind myself that this is also part of the experience of going out alone.

  “You look like you need company,” he says, dripping with lust.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine—alone,” I reply in a kind yet firm voice.

  “You’re damn right you’re fine…” he says as he takes a seat in the chair next to me. I fly out of my chair as my heart pounds inside my chest. He stands up too.

  “Look, I just came to get a drink, I’m not looking for company,” I reply, determined to stay calm.

  “I know exactly what you came for, honey,” he says as he licks his lips yet again. “And I got it right here,” he says, coming in closer.

  “Yes, well I’m sure you got it. And I’m also sure it will take at least six months of penicillin for you to get rid of it. Now, can you please leave me alone?”

  He grabs my arm and glares at me. “You rich bitches think you can talk down to me? You think you’re better than me?” he demands. This is the point where I’m supposed to crumble and beg him to let go of me. But I don’t. Maybe it’s because I’m in public or maybe it’s because I really have had enough. But for whatever reason, instead of cowering to him, I knee him hard in the groin. My attack catches him off guard, and he groans and bends over.

  “Learn to take a hint: when she says go away, she means go away,” I shout over the sound of his groan.

  “Oh, and really, those boots with that shirt?” I add as I shake my head. He looks up and glares at me.

  “You bitch!” he rages as he charges towards me.

  Oh shit! Oh shit!

  I quickly run through the crowd and towards the exit. I bolt out of the bar and onto the street. I slam right into a brick wall.

  What the hell?

  I look up and it’s not a wall, it’s a man that’s built like one—a strong, sturdy, muscle-bound wall. And I slammed right into his very well defined, chiseled, and massive chest.

  He’s got to be at least six three, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a sharply chiseled face that could easily rival any Greek god. His powerful biceps are flexed as they adsorb the unprovoked assault. I look into his eyes, expecting to see annoyance, or anger that I crashed into him. But instead, I see something that throws me off—concern.

  Before either of us can say anything, the idiot from the bar bursts through the door, and right away the stranger knows who I was running from. His look of concern quickly changes. And now, a murderous rage lies just beneath the surface. The change is swift and absolute. My blood runs cold.

  The idiot stares back, sizing up the stranger. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what I somehow already know—taking on the stranger is dangerous, if not lethal. The idiot inhales deeply and puffs his chest out
. The stranger looks back, unmoved. There’s no need for him to puff out his chest; his sheer mass is enough. The idiot wisely retreats inside the bar.

  “You good?” he asks, in a firm and commanding tone that actually scares me.

  “Ah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. He was…I tried to…um, thanks,” I mutter as I quickly start to walk away. I’m afraid of him. Yeah, I know that’s stupid since he just helped me out, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.

  There are no good guys…

  He follows me and calls out something, but I can’t hear him clearly. I pick up my pace. He picks up his. I start running. My heart is pounding in my ears as I run down the street. It’s pointless; his long legs enable him to close the gap between us quickly. I run across the street and into traffic.

  It was such a stupid thing to do, but I had to get away from him. The cars honk their horns and a driver heads straight for me. The driver is looking down at his cell and doesn’t see me. There’s no time to think, no time to regret my choice of outfits for my last day on Earth. All I can think is that maybe this is a good thing, maybe now I will be free.

  Seconds later, I’m being hurled to the ground, but not by the car, by something far more powerful and aggressive: the stranger. He tackles me and sends me back onto the sidewalk. The hit sends shock waves down my body, but it’s nothing like what would have happened had the car hit me. The stranger is on top of me, looking angrily into my face.

  “What the hell is your problem, lady?”

  “You were chasing me.”

  “To give you back your purse. You dropped it back at the bar.”

  “Oh.”

  “Un-fucking-believable. You could have gotten yourself killed!” he says as he rolls off me. He extends his hand, but I reject it and slowly gather myself up on my own. I take my handbag from him and inspect it.

  “Oh no,” I mutter.

  “What is it?”

  “My handbag, you scratched it!”

  “I saved your life.”

  “Well, you should have saved my handbag.”

  “Are you fucking joking?”

  “Humans come and go, but a Chanel handbag is forever. And now, so is the scratch you put on it,” I reply.

  He plants his face inside his wide hands and says, “Unbelievable.”

  “Me? You were chasing me, and then you tackled me. Is that what you have to do to meet women?”

  He looks up and says, “Forget it. Just didn’t want you to die. That’s all.” He shakes his head, annoyed. He starts to walk away.

  “Wait! I’m…sorry. I was being rude and—”

  “Ungrateful.”

  “Okay, that’s a little too far,” I reply, crossing my hands over my chest.

  “Again, saved your life,” he says.

  “Again, Chanel handbag.”

  He laughs mirthlessly and looks up at the sky as if asking God for help. “Fine, next time I see a woman running out of a sleazy bar with some dickhead in tow, I’ll be sure to ask her handbag if it would like some help.”

  “Look, you did help me out, so thanks for that. But I would have been fine without your help. I had the situation under control.”

  “Yeah, sure you did,” he mumbles, growing more frustrated.

  “Well, I did!” I reply, not sure why I let his tone get to me.

  “Okay, fine. I get it. You are Wonder Woman. I should have let you fight your own battles and fly off in your invisible airplane.”

  “Damn right you should have. I’m not helpless. I don’t need you or anyone else!”

  “Glad to hear it, Wonder Woman.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He turns around and faces me. His voice is filled with frustration and disbelief. “Look, Wonder—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Too late. From now on, you’ll always be ‘Wonder,’ the superhero that can almost save herself.”

  “Okay, maybe I needed a little help back there, but I would have figured something out. I’m not some lost little girl waiting to be rescued, thank you very much.”

  “Got it. Won’t happen again,” he snaps as he starts to walk away again.

  “Wait! I have a question.” Actually, I don’t have a question. It’s just that I hate the thought of him walking off down the street and fading away forever.

  Really, Shelby? Because moments ago you were running away from him.

  Yes, and I still want that distance. I just don’t want him to be gone completely from my view, at least not right this moment.

  Shelby, what the hell, woman?

  “Well, what’s the question?” he asks.

  “What question?” I ask, as his voice jars me out of my thoughts.

  He hangs his head, suggesting he’s at his wit’s end.

  Well fine, Mr. Hot and Impossibly Sexy. I will make it quick.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Gage.”

  “Wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting that. Nice name.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  “I do. Gage, one more thing—”

  “What is it?” he says impatiently.

  “Why is New York City spinning?” Before he can reply, the streetlights fade. My knees buckle, and everything goes dark.

  I catch the crazy woman just before she hits the ground. Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have let her get up on her own, without at least checking to see if her vision was blurry. What the hell was I thinking?

  You weren’t thinking, dickhead. The moment you laid eyes on her, your cock started to do all the thinking for you.

  I hail a cab and get her to the hospital, a few blocks from where we are. The moment I enter, the staff begins to tend to her. They place her on a gurney and rush her down the hallway. I try to follow, but they tell me I need to stay behind and fill out paperwork. I’m handed a form, and I am stuck on the very first question: Name of patient.

  Damn, I didn’t get her name. Screw it. I write down “Wonder Woman.” It’s odd, but I think that name fits her. The moment I laid eyes on her I was beside myself. It happened so fast. I was just walking down the street when the hottest fucking woman I’d ever seen slammed into me.

  Seriously, she came out of nowhere: an elegant, sexy bombshell. She wore eye shadow and lipstick, and while it was pretty, it was also unnecessary. The fact is, no amount of makeup could compete with the natural glow and beauty of her dark skin. She reminded me of my favorite time of day: midnight. I could spend hours lost in sheer awe of her skin tone.

  She has sparkling, cognac-colored eyes and high cheekbones. Her full, perky breasts, slim waist, and firm, round ass made me want her in the worst way. But what made my cock war against my brain were her lips. She has naturally full and pouty lips that are so tempting I’d give my entire fortune for a taste.

  When I pulled her out of traffic, I was pissed that she could risk her life in such a reckless way. It seemed like a cruel thing to do to the world—to take away something so beautiful, and yes, so wondrous.

  It was only after she scolded me about her purse that I realized “Wonder” is actually nuts. She has a defiant streak in her that I couldn’t help but admire. Also, when she’s pissed off and furrows her brows, she’s absolutely adorable. In fact, the more upset she got, the more adorable she became. However, none of that changed the fact that the woman was materialistic, ungrateful, and nuts!

  My plan was to walk away and forget I ever met her. And although I’m here in the hospital with her, my plan hasn’t changed. But before I go, I just want to make sure she’s okay. Then she will go her way, and I will go mine.

  “Mr. Hunter, are you done with the paperwork?” the woman behind the front desk asks.

  “Yeah, here you go,” I reply as I walk over to her. She takes the clipboard and looks it over with disapproval.

  “I just met her,” I explain.

  “Oh, you looked so concerned, I thought…”

  “No, there’s nothing between us. As soon as you guys tell me
she’s okay, I’ll take off.”

  “Certainly. Have a seat, and we’ll let you know as soon as the doctor is done.”

  I head back over to the row of chairs, and my mind wanders back to the bar. That fuckhead back at the bar did the right thing by going back inside. I keep replaying the look on her face when she ran into me. She was so on edge. What kind of asshole chases a woman out of a bar? What would have happened if he’d caught her?

  I swallow the wave of anger that comes over me. When you’re a CIA agent, you get used to seeing awful things, but I will never get used to women being attacked. And I don’t give a shit about the rules; I won’t let that stand. Even though Wonder is a basket of crazy, I’m glad I stopped that guy from getting to her.

  And when they wake her up, I’m gonna tell her off for not being more careful. Who thought it would be a good idea to let her go in a place like that by herself? Shit, I should call someone for her. Maybe there’s a sister or brother that needs to know she’s been hurt. I didn’t see a wedding ring, so no husband, but maybe she has a boyfriend.

  Boyfriend…

  Something about that thought makes the muscles in my chest tighten. I’m not sure why. I just met this chick, and the only thing I know about her is that she’s stunning, unreasonable, and stubborn as hell. The fact is, none of those things warrant me having any kind of emotion where her love life is concerned.

  And yet, I find myself picturing her life. It’s clear she comes from money. I’ve been with enough women to know her outfit cost a small fortune. I’m guessing she’s some kind of socialite and that she has some bullshit stockbroker boyfriend, Chad. Or maybe some real estate mogul named Asher or something equally douchey.

  So what the fuck was it, Chad, what were you doing that was so important you couldn’t be with her tonight?

  He probably had a business meeting and flaked out on their date. Or worse, he pretended he had a business meeting and is somewhere in midtown doing his secretary. Meanwhile, this woman is moments away from being attacked by some thug just outside of the bar.