Razor's Edge (Underworld Kings)

I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

“Later Fox!” I yelled to the basement. Music was blasting and the sound of weights hitting the floor meant that Fox was pumping iron. He hollered something back over the music that I couldn’t hear. Knowing him, it was crass and filled with stupid insults directed at me.

Ellison answered the door before I even rang the bell, blinding me with her beauty and a smile that gave away how excited she was. El was wearing a black dress that accentuated her curves. She’d grown up a lot in the years we’d been together and was no longer a little girl.

“Hey baby!” She nearly leapt into my arms. I couldn’t help but scan the foyer through the open door on the lookout for parents, in other words Chief Kraft. Ellison was their only child left, they’re protective. I got it, and I tried to respect their boundaries. Ellison talked to her mother about sex. She knew I was waiting until El was ready—that I didn’t pressure her. It went a long way, in fact, it might be the only reason they trusted me, that and the obvious reality that I loved her.

“You look so beautiful.” I leaned in and whispered in her ear and then nipped at her earlobe softly. She giggled and pink crept up her cheeks. Seeing her blush never got old. I hoped to God we never lost this, the ability to affect one another.

Ellison slid down to the step above me, never letting go of my neck. She’s petite in height, short, but she’s voluptuous and curvy.

“Let’s run away to Vegas tonight and get married. Then gamble all night and buy porn magazines. And cigars!”

“Someone is happy they’re finally eighteen, huh?”

I was six months older than El and the novelty had already worn off a bit. “We can do whatever you want, as long as I have you home by midnight.” She raised one eyebrow and gave me her naughty look. A look that sprinted right to my dick. This girl was the only chink in my armor. Her touch was a drug I could never say no to. Her need debilitated me. I’d walk across burning coals just for the look of adoration in her eyes.

My birthright made me a lot of things, but it was Ellison Kraft who made me a man. I planned to spend the rest of my life making her aware of just how truly grateful I was.

“Call me crazy, but something tells me your dad would really appreciate walking you down the aisle. Getting to give you away with all the fanfare you deserve.”

“You’re ruining my outlaw fantasy,” Ellison pouted.

I didn’t have those, my house was full of real outlaws.

“I’ll give you anything else besides that.”

El waggled her eyebrows at me as she pulled back from our embrace.

“Ellison, let the man in the door for Christ’s sake! Maybe Cal wants to greet your old man, like the well-mannered young man that he is!” Chief Kraft yelled from his spot on the couch. He liked me enough to want me to come into his house.

Ellison’s eyes shot toward the sky in an exaggerated roll.

“No, cause he’s mine and you’ll steal him to talk football all night. It’s my birthday, Daddy!”

“Better go in. Sounds like your dad wants to talk to me.” I dragged a protesting birthday girl into the house, wobbly in too-high heels that she’d been dying to wear out. Her parents called this morning to let me know that together we’d surprise her with a cake. Emily is hiding out in the kitchen with strawberry shortcake and eighteen candles. Last year, my mom and Fox would have been here with us. After the sleep-over incident, we all stopped pretending we’re merging families and instead concentrated only on what we could change.

“Surprise!” Emily flicked on the lights as we made our way into the kitchen. Chief Kraft followed behind us. El’s cheer friends Tanner and Riley were already in the kitchen. To my surprise Fox was there too—the sneaky bastard was in on it.

Ellison covered her face and cried while her girlfriends fawned over her. I took a step back, conscious of how possessive I get. It only took about four seconds. After a round of hugs, thank yous, and blowing out the candles, El was back in my arms.

“I’ll let you take the Mustang if you promise not to drive to Vegas,” Kraft whispered in my ear. Emily handed him a huge piece of cake, pink frosting, even pinker rosettes, ripe red strawberries sliding down the side.

“You’ve got my word.” I shook Kraft’s hand. Somehow the strict officer and my burly brother shoveling in mouthfuls of pink frosting cracked me up.

From the back pocket of my dark denim, I pulled out a small box.

“It isn’t what you think it is,” I told the girls. El’s friends were instantaneously tearing up and pulling out their phones.