A Fighting Man
Table of Contents
WILDE CITY PRESS
A Fighting Man © 2014 Sandrine Gasq-Dion
Published in the US and Australia by Wilde City Press 2014
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-1-925180-02-2
Cover Art © 2014 Wilde City Press
A FIGHTING MAN
Sandrine Gasq-Dion
Dedication
To my editor, Jenjo.
Brandi Reynolds
My Facebook Family
Casper
My day had long passed excruciating and was knocking on the door of unbearable. I banged my head on my boss’ desk with an exaggerated sigh. My boss, Blaine McKlintock, looked every bit as tired as I was. We’d been looking at pictures of male models for over a month. The CEO of the company launching a new energy drink called Rush wanted just the right look in the ad campaign. We’d sent over hundreds of pictures of models, but each and every time, the pictures would come back marked ‘too skinny,’ ‘too big,’ ‘not enough tattoos,’ ‘too many tattoos.’ It was enough to drive me to drink.
I eyed Blaine sideways; he really had changed a lot since I’d come to work for him. I’d been fresh out of college when I came to New York in hopes of making it big. Well, bigger than I could in the small town I came from. I got off the plane with big hopes and dreams of becoming an administrative assistant with an advertising firm. Those were squashed within two weeks. “Not enough job experience” was the excuse I got time after time. How was I going to get experience if I couldn’t get a job? So I worked in a few bars for a bit as I continually put in resumes with big firms. Finally, I got a call back from Hawke Advertising.
Blaine McKlintock needed an administrative assistant.
I wouldn’t say I’m the hottest guy on the planet, but I clean up nicely. The way Blaine looked me over during the interview made me feel like I’d just come off the pig farm. Then there’s my name: Casper Kennedy. I took a lot of shit for my name all through school, so it didn’t surprise me one bit when Blaine chuckled.
“Casper?” he’d snorted. “Parents hate you much?”
I’d almost, almost, said something about his name, but I really needed the job, so I just smiled.
Obviously, I got the job. Over the next two years, I watched Blaine transformed right before my eyes. The biggest catalyst for that change came in the form of Spencer Cassidy, Blaine’s now fiancé. Since meeting Spencer, I’d never seen my boss smile so much. They were a cute little family. Spencer had a precious nine-year-old daughter from his first marriage.
“Casper?”
I rolled my head quickly to find Blaine smiling at me.
“Yes? Was I snoring?” I chuckled.
“No. I was just saying we should call it a day. We’ve got another file folder of models to tackle tomorrow.”
I stood up and my knees cracked. I winced and stretched my arms out.
“What time?” I asked, barely containing a yawn.
“Let’s make it nine. I don’t want to see this office for twelve hours at least.”
I nodded and grabbed my briefcase. “Say hi to Spencer and Valerie for me.” I winked.
“Will do.” Blaine grinned at me.
I walked to the door and stopped as Blaine chuckled behind me.
“I heard you had a surprise for your birthday,” he said innocently.
I turned slowly, with my eyes narrowed. “You told him?”
‘Him’ was Slater Cassidy, Spencer’s younger brother. He was an Army Ranger and total pain in my ass. The man absolutely could not take a hint—even one delivered so clearly that it was pretty much one step away from a restraining order. He had hit on me every chance he got when he was in town for Christmas. It was now almost June and the man had not let up at all.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Blaine averted his eyes.
“He sent a singing telegram to my apartment. The guy was dressed as the Easter Bunny. The whole floor came out to watch.”
“Bet no one’s ever done that before,” Blaine chuckled as he strode past me to the door.
My eyes widened. “You knew! That’s why you guys wanted me back at my apartment by ten!”
“I can’t hear you!” Blaine called as he hurriedly walked toward the elevators.
“Ugh!” I shut the office door behind me and ran to catch up. I slid in just as the doors were closing. “Why are you encouraging Slater? You know I’m not interested.” I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.
Blaine mirrored my stance.
“Please,” he drawled. “I’d need a chainsaw to cut the sexual tension between you two.”
“I repeat—not interested. He’s wasting his time and money.”
“Well, it’s his money to waste. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Cassidy men, it’s that they’re tenacious. So if I were you, I’d be prepared for a long siege.”
I sighed in exasperation.
Blaine winked at me as the doors opened. “Have a good night.”
I trudged out to the sidewalk and hailed a cab. New York was bustling with people headed home for the day and I idly watched the city fly through the window. I didn’t have a huge apartment, but it was perfect for me. In fact, Terry Barron had offered it to me. He’d had time left on his lease when he and Kent married and moved into Kent’s place so I took it over.
I had to smile at the thought.
Kent Samson had met his husband in a most unusual way. I got the whole story from Blaine when we became friends and not just boss and employee. He and Kent had made a bet that the next person to walk through Kent’s door at the agency had to fall in love with him. Terry Barron had walked in and the rest was history.
Blaine and Kent had each learned some hard lessons from the fallout when Terry realized the relationship began as a bet. Blaine took the lessons to heart and was reunited with his Stock Exchange crush — his words, not mine. Spencer Cassidy was roughly six-foot-two, with coal-black hair and arresting grey eyes. His brother, Slater, was an exact replica. A few inches taller than his brother, Slater was a muscled wet dream. He was also military, which crossed him off my list immediately.
I closed my eyes and brought up a vision of the thorn in my butt: strong, square jaw, with high cheekbones and a thin nose. He had plump, juicy lips and one hell of a nice ass. I shook my head clear as the cab stopped and the driver turned in the seat.
“Here ya go!”
“Thanks.” I slid him a twenty and got out of the cab. I looked up at the building with a smile. When I’d first moved to New York, I had a roach-infested tiny studio. Now I had a one-bedroom apartment with no rats or roaches, thanks to the cat I’d inherited from Terry, who had inherited it from a neighbor. I unlocked the door to the building and climbed the stairs to my unit. My phone sounded and I looked at the caller ID: Drakon Mavros.
“Hey, Drakon.”
Drakon worked for Spencer at Cassidy Messengers. I’d met him when Blaine and I stopped by the office once with lunch. He was my age, twenty-five, and a complete cutie. His Greek background showed all over his face—dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin.
“Hello! Just wanted to call and make sure we were doing the gym in the morning?”
I chuckled. “Why? You have a new pair of sneakers?”
Drakon loved sneakers. He had the latest, newest pair and wore a different pair to the gym every morning.
“I do! They are purple. Besides, I have got to work off my Twinkies.”
I laughed at that one. He was seriously addicted to the snack cakes.
“Yeah, seven okay?”
“Perfect! See you then.”
“Yup. Later, Drakon.”
I hung up and unlocked my unit. The cat sat in the middle of the room wearing what looked like a frown. I smiled and dropped off my bag, kneeling to scratch behind his ears.
“Hey, Figaro. Did you make long distance phone calls and watch porn while I was gone?”
I got a meow and a rub. I stood and walked to my little kitchen. Opening the freezer, I took stock of my dinner choices. Frozen dinner or frozen dinner?
“Oooh, look Figaro! A frozen meatloaf! Yum!”
Figaro meowed and trotted to the open window, letting himself out.
“That’s how I feel about it, too,” I mused, sticking the frozen dinner in the microwave.
I threw my jacket on my bed and sat down to remove my shoes. As I bent over, I noticed my nightstand drawer was cracked open. I pulled the drawer out and looked at the picture sitting there. My eyes pooled as I ran my fingers over the image. Mason Callahan, my now-deceased fiancé, smiled at me from the picture. I’d met Mason within two weeks of coming to New York. He was on several days of leave from Fort Drum and had come into the city to have fun. We clicked from the moment we met and started dating immediately. He wasn’t out to his parents and at the time the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy was in effect. So we dated in secrecy. The picture blurred and I realized I was crying.
Three years, and I still cried when I looked at his face.
I placed the picture carefully back in the drawer and closed it.
Slater Cassidy may be gorgeous, but he was military and I wasn’t going there again.
I grabbed my, oh-so-nummy meatloaf out of the microwave and powered up my laptop. My mail popped up and I clicked on my messages. I frowned when I noticed that I had one from Slater. How the hell did he get my e-mail address? I clicked ‘open’ and braced myself.
Hey Sexy,
Just wanted to warn you that I’m coming home on leave in June. I plan to hound you until you give in to me. I’m not giving up.
— Slater
I smiled despite myself and hit ‘reply.’
Slater,
It doesn’t matter when you’re coming home because I’m not going to say yes. Don’t you know when to give up? How did you get my e-mail address?
Casper
Two seconds later, I got a reply.
I am a Ranger.
A loud ping sounded from my computer, scaring me to death. I almost choked on my meatloaf. Fuck, shit and damn. Slater was online and wanted to chat.
Captain America: Hello, sexy ghost. ;)
CK: Ugh!
Captain America: Well that’s better than nothing.
CK: What part of “NO” don’t you get?
Captain America: the N and the O?:p
CK: This is not funny. I don’t how many ways to tell you I’m not going out with you.
Captain America: What?
CK: What what?
Captain America: in the butt.
I laughed so hard I almost fell off the chair. It took me a couple seconds to reply.
CK: Are you high?
Captain America: on you
CK: Look, I know you are used to getting what you want, but I’m not into thrill bangs.
Captain America: Who says that’s all I want?
CK: Um, you’re a player?
Captain America: Not this time.
CK: I highly doubt that. I’ve seen your kind in action before and I’m not falling for your charms.
Captain America: So you DO think I’m charming?;)
CK: I think you’re annoying.
I waited for Slater’s response and took another bite of my meatloaf. My computer stayed silent and I watched the clock as the minutes ticked by. Sweat pooled at the base of my throat as more time went by and nothing came from Slater.
CK: Slater?
Nothing. The silence was deafening and my panic rose. I’d been online with Mason a few times when mortars had come over the wall of the base. I was now worried the same thing had happened to Slater.
CK: Slater???
I stood up and paced. The more time that elapsed, the more frantic I became. The loud ping from my computer scared the shit out of me and I let out a huge breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Captain America: Had some trouble, sorry. I have to go. See you soon.
I expelled another huge breath and banged my head on the table. This was exactly what I didn’t want — that feeling of helplessness.
